#look. listen. i know. i know *logically* that if i did die or disappear or whatever i know people would miss me

[strawbearydreams]

.

[wwilsonbarness]

stay?

pairings:  bucky barnes x reader

summary: after one date with Bucky Barnes your life takes a turn for the worst.

warnings: awkward first date (kinda), violence, angst, fluff, sexual assault (warning just in case), kidnapping, sad bucky, sad reader, sadness lol (let me know if i forgot anything pleasee)

word count: 4170

a/n: enjoy :)

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

Your pinky finger was slowly inching towards his as he walked you up the steps to your door. It had been the perfect evening, starting off with a dinner at one of the fanciest restaurants in the city, then a couple games of mini golf followed by cheeseburgers because both of you agreed the portions at “WOZ” were nowhere near enough. You’d met Bucky through one of your friends, and if you were being honest the idea of dating an Avenger was very intimidating but she insisted you would be ‘perfect together’. 

“Thank you for tonight Bucky, I had a really good time.” You’d grown more confident as the night went on but now that the date was ending you were back to your shy self. You didn’t want the night to end and even though you’d only met Bucky a few hours ago you had felt an instant connection. It really felt like how the movies made first dates look. 

“I had a good time too, would..” He stops himself and you can tell he’s feeling nervous, so you smile up at him, silently asking him to continue. You see his shoulders loosen once he sees your smile, “..would you maybe wanna do this aga-..?” 

“Yes.” You answer before he can even finish his sentence. 

“You do?” 

“I do.” You were internally beating yourself up for being so awkward but you couldn’t help but jump at the chance at seeing Bucky again. What you didn’t know that was Bucky was doing the same thing, Steve had always described him as being smooth with the ladies but right now it was like all his flirting skills had completely disappeared. 

“I erm, I better get going, but I’ll call you!” 

“I’ll be waiting!” You cringed at yourself, why did you have to be so awkward? 

“See you doll.” Bucky flashes you a smile - which has become one of your favourite sights in the very short time you’ve known him - before he starts to walk down the steps. You wave to him as he walks away and wait until you can no longer see him before you close your door. 

You drop your bag on the counter, untie your shoes and start to unzip your dress as you walk to your bedroom before a knock at your door stops you. You don’t think twice before going over and opening the knock, the only logical person it could be was Bucky. Right? 

“Back alrea- Oh. Hi?” It wasn’t Bucky, it was a man with short black hair and tattoos and a black hood covering most of his face. “Can I help you?”

“You Y/N Y/L/N?” The man grunts at you in return.

“I am.. Who are you?” As soon as you answer him you regret it, it goes against every piece of advice you’d been given about being safe as a woman in the city. 

“You don’t need to know who I am sweetheart.” Your heartbeat was beginning to speed up now, panic setting in fast. You try to close your door as quickly as you can but his foot stops you. 

He begins to shake his head, “Uh uh, I don’t think so.” he pushes forward and you fall backwards landing on the floor. 

Your eyes were beginning to well up and you were frozen in fear, this was it wasn’t it? You’re gonna die right here. 

“Stop being such a baby jesus fucking christ.” He paced around your apartment a little, his jacket moving slightly which makes the gun he has in the back of his jeans become visible.

“P-Please, you can take anything you want. Just please don’t hurt me” You pleaded to him, hoping somehow there was a tiny part of him that would listen. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” You sighed deeply thinking there was a chance you’d get out of this alive, but if he wasn’t going to hurt you what was he planning to do?

“What do..what do you want from me?” 

“I’m just here to take ya to the big man.” 

You didn’t think you could feel any more scared than you already did, but the mention of “the big man” terrified you. Why were they targeting you? 

“Do me a favour, would ya sweetheart? Stop talking.” He smirked down at you which only made you feel worse, it looked like he was enjoying this. 

You were too scared to say anything else, and he was focusing on his phone instead of you. Part of you was tempted to try and escape but you were still frozen in fear, you had no defence skills and probably wouldn’t get very far and you really didn’t wanna piss this guy off anymore. 

Around 10 minutes pass of you sitting on the floor, wracking your brain to find any reason as to why someone would want to kidnap you. You weren't anything special, and you hadn’t even lived in New York for that long. 

“Get up. He’s ready for ya.” You get to your feet shakily and wait for him to tell you what to do next. 

“Go on then.” He shoves you towards the door, and follows behind you. As you near the door you feel something hard against your back. “Make any noise and I’ll use it.” Shit. You didn’t say anything back, just nodding to show you understood.

After you get into his car he drives for what feels like hours to an underground garage, you tried to memorise the route you went but it was hopeless. You’d never been to this side of the city before. A few minutes walk later and you’re standing outside an office, you assume this is the guy who sent someone to hunt you down. 

The door opens and you get pushed in, stumbling a little before you find your balance. There are two men waiting in there, who look you up and down before smirking. 

“Soldier chooses them well.” The taller one says to his shorter friend. 

“Sure does. Shame he’ll never see her again.” 

Soldier? Are they talking about Bucky? 

“What do you want from me?” You tried to keep your voice calm but you could tell it came out laced with fear. 

“You’ll find out soon enough.” The shorter man walks towards you and trials his finger over the edge of your dress. “All you need to worry about is standing here and looking pretty, sweetheart.” 

—----- 

On the other side of the city the soldier in question was sitting discussing ‘the best night of his life’ with Sam, who was silently judging how his friend was acting. 

“And everytime she told me a joke she'd wait a couple seconds before laughing to make sure I found it funny first. And when she laughs her nose scrunches up, it’s so adorable. And everytime i told her she looked nice she’d do this thing where she bites her lip and she can’t look me in the eye. It’s ad-“

“Adorable. I get it, Buck.”

Bucky blushes as he realises how long he’d been speaking about you, but he can’t help it. He’s never met someone like you before and he can’t stop thinking about you since he left your doorstep. 

“How long is an acceptable time before I call her?” Bucky knows Sam is probably sick of hearing about you but he’s Bucky’s favourite (and only) person he feels safe enough to talk to, not that he’d ever tell Sam that. 

Sam looks at the imaginary watch on his wrist before answering. “Not 3 hours Buck.” A frown appears on Bucky’s face to which Sam snickers at. “I thought you were a ladies man.” 

“I was. Things are different now.” Bucky tries to force a smile out but he can’t. His voice grows a lot quieter as he continues. “Do you think she doesn’t want me to call?” 

“Hey, I didn’t say that! The way you’ve described the night, it sounds like she feels the same as you.” 

“Hm. Maybe.” 

“Buck I’m serious, I was just joking before. I’m sure she’s waiting for your call.” 

“So tomorrow?” Bucky asks with his smirk growing again. 

Sam laughs, “Yeah, tomorrow.”

Safe to say Bucky does not wait until tomorrow, actually he doesn’t even make it another hour before texting you.” 

Hey, it’s Bucky! Sorry if this is too soon but I had a really good time tonight. We need a rematch soon! 

He spent a further 2 hours staring at the screen, with every minute that passed that the message was left on ‘delivered’ he picked apart his message more. He finally locks his phone and heads to his room for the night. But not without a lecture from Sam first. “You called her didn’t you?” 

“No!” Bucky rushes to defend himself. “But hypothetically if someone was to text their date 4 hours after the date. How would that look?”

“Bucky! I thought you were waiting until tomorrow.” 

“I tried.” 

“Has she responded?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Is this what ghosting is? Oh god. Am I being ghosted?” 

“Please for the love of god stop letting Peter teach you modern slang. You’re not being ghosted, it’s late she’s probably just sleeping. Bucky looks at the clock behind Sam and sighs in relief. 

“You’re right. Okay, I’m gonna sleep too.” It was nearing 3am, no wonder you haven't replied to him he thought to himself.

Bucky gets around 4 hours of sleep before he gets woken up by his phone ringing. He answers it without looking at who it is. “You’ve got 3 hours to give me back my brother, or else your girl gets a bullet through her pretty little face.” 

That wakes Bucky up faster than he ever has before. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“You heard me, Soldier. Clock’s ticking.” The call ends. 

Bucky freezes for a second trying to gain a little bit of understanding of what the fuck just happened. He pulls on the first piece of clothing he can find and runs towards the common room, hoping to find someone who can help him. Luckily the whole team is there, which is strange, normally the only time that happens is when there’s a mission going on. 

Before Bucky can even begin to explain what’s happening, Fury pipes up. “Barnes, what do you know about a Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Fuck!” This means he wasn’t imagining that phone call. We had one date, literally just last night. What the fuck is going on?” 

Half of the team moves so Bucky can see the big screen, and on it there’s a blown up picture of you, tied to a seat. Your dress is ripped, there’s blood dripping down the side of your face and your eyes are red, as if you’d been crying non stop for hours. Bucky walks slowly towards the screen and stops for a second to take in the picture, and almost instantly his brain switches to fighter mode. 

“What do we know?” 

“Bucky, maybe you should sit this one out.” Sam tries to reason with him, but Bucky doesn’t listen. 

“What the fuck do we know?”

Fury begins to tell Bucky all the information they have. “It seems your girlfriend wa-“

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Bucky wishes that statement wasn’t true, he wishes he could say you were his girl, but after this he was 100% sure that would never be the case.

“Okay.” Nick continues, wary of pissing Bucky off any more. “It seems Ms Y/L/N was taken from her home at around 11.30 last night. Her neighbours report seeing a black Audi sitting outside her apartment before she got home and say it left 30 minutes after you dropped her off. There’s no cameras in the area, her phone was left in her apartment so there is no way of tracking her. And just 30 minutes ago this picture was sent to my email. Along with a threat to her life if Zemo is not released from the raft in 3 hours.” 

Bucky tries to process all the information, you were taken just 30 minutes after he left? Guilt. Zemo has a brother? Anger. They were threatening to kill you? Fear. 

“I got a phone call a few minutes ago, said the same thing. Any leads on who this bastard is?” 

“None. No one is aware of Zemo having a brother.” 

Bucky nods along, “What’s the plan?”  

“You said you got a call? We’ll get tech to try and track it..” Nat suggests, knowing it most likely won’t work but it’s their best bet right now. “..and when they call again at least we’ll be ready to track it.”

“You think they’re gonna be dumb enough to leave a trace?” Bucky snapped at Nat. 

“It’s all we’ve got, Bucky. Look, we know you had some sort of relationship with this girl but you need to stay calm.” 

“I’m trying.” Bucky’s voice breaks a little, showing everyone how he is really feeling.

A couple minutes pass of everyone thinking the same thing but being too afraid to say it, until Fury finally breaks the silence. “There’s no way we can let Zemo out.” 

Bucky knows there’s no logical reason for them to listen to your kidnappers demands, he knows majority of the time they never stick to them, but the thought of you getting hurt anymore was too much to handle. 

“You’re just gonna let her die?” He shouts across the table. 

“Barnes I suggest you calm down or I’ll remove your clearance for this mission.” Bucky nods, knowing the best thing he can do right now is keep as calm as possible, panic will only make things worse. “As I was saying, I’m not willing to release Zemo from the raft, but we can make this brother of his think we are. When he next contacts us, we’ll let him believe we’re following what he is asking of us. Everyone got it?” 

The room fills with a mix of mumbles, mostly consisting of ‘yes sirs’ and ‘got it’s’. Bucky stays silent. He’d finally found a girl he liked and she ends up in this situation, the guilt he was feeling was worse than anything he’d ever felt before, including the years of physical and mental trauma he’s been through. 

Sam’s soft voice breaks him out of his thoughts, “Buck? You okay?” For the first time since he learned of your danger Bucky’s face softens, and his eyes begin to grow wet. 

“I don’t wanna lose her Sam.” Sam might not understand how Bucky feels this strongly about you in such a short amount of time but one thing he understands is that you are important to Bucky and that means you are important to him.

“We’ll get her back. Come on. Let’s suit up so we’re ready.”

—--

You made the mistake of asking for some water which resulted in you being slapped across the face with the back of a gun and tied up on a rickety old chair .You hadn’t spoken since. You’d accepted that it was just a matter of time before they killed you and part of you just wanted them to get it over with. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't stop the tears falling down your cheeks and these men did not like that at all.

“Tell me again why we’re keeping her alive? Her crying is starting to get real boring.” One guy asks the other. 

“Just shut her up will ya? I need to call them again” You try so hard to stop yourself from whimpering but the pain from the rope around your hands and the ache in your head hurts so bad and a couple of seconds later a rag is being stuffed in your mouth. 

“Darling.. You get what this means?” He lifts his gun up and trails it along the side of your face. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” You hold your breath, terrified that even a slight movement will make things worse. “Good girl.” His smile, it’s something you don’t think you’ll ever forget if you make it out of here alive. 

The other man dials a number and puts it on speaker. “You got my brother yet?” 

“He’s on his way to us. First we need some proof that Y/N is still alive.” 

The man walks over to you slowly and takes the rag slightly out your mouth. “Tell them sweetheart.” You couldn't answer even if you wanted to, the fear being too much. He whips his gun against your head again making you cry out again. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

“I.. I’m alive.” You had no idea who you were talking to, it was a voice you didn’t recognise but one you’d never forget, maybe, just maybe they’d be the one who saved you.

—---

“I.. I’m alive.” Bucky nearly breaks down right there at the sound of your voice, Sam's hand lands on his shoulder and squeezes gently. 

“Why are you doing this?” Fury asks, he doesn’t really care why, he knows people like these guys have no moral compass but he’s trying to make the call last as long as he can so they can track it. 

“You took my brother away from me, I’m only getting him back.”

“At the cost of an innocent life?” 

“You mean her?” He scoffs. “Can’t be that innocent if she's dating the winter soldier.” Sam can feel Bucky’s shoulders tense under his touch at the mention of his past life. “Stop wasting my time, just get my brother back to me. I’ll send you an address in 1 hour. Be there or the girl dies.” The call ends before Fury can reply.

“We got them!” An agent Bucky doesn’t know shouts up from the back of the room. “Sir, we’ve got them.” 

Bucky immediately makes his way over to where the agent is sitting and tries to read the computer but has no luck, it’s all in code. “Where is she?” 

“Water Crescent Garage, on the other side of the city.” She replies, as she continues typing. “The jet will get you there in 15 minutes.”

“Let’s go.” Bucky’s out of the room before anyone can respond, running through the halls and reaching the jet before anyone else.

“Barnes, I’ll remind you. Stay calm or you’re off.”

“I know. I’m calm” He was most certainly calm. “Can we please just go?” His voice is dripping in desperation, he just wants you safe.

—-------

“Looks like Soldier wants you back, hmm?” The taller guy asks you, knowing you can’t answer him. “Maybe I’ll see what he’s getting every night huh?” He begins to run his fingers over your bare shoulder, nearing your neck and beginning to squeeze slightly. You try to move away but the rope keeps you in place. “This what he likes doing to you? He likes having control? He likes to own you?” He brings his other hand towards the zip on the side of your dress before an alarm stops him. He looks around to the other guy in the room. “Stay with her. I’ll go.”

The other guy grunts in response. Once the taller guy has left he walks towards you, gun in his hand. “You better hope your boyfriend isn’t trying something sweetheart. It won’t end well.” You don’t understand why these guys think you and Bucky were so serious, you’d only had one date. 

You start to hear gunshots in the distance, getting closer and closer to you every second. You were praying the good guys were winning and that they were here to save you. 

A few minutes pass when the door to your room bursts open and none other than Captain America himself walks in. It takes him less than 15 seconds to disarm and knock out the guy who was left with you, although it feels like longer for you. “Buck, I’ve got her.” He walks over to you and removes the cloth in your mouth. 

Bucky was here. “Bucky?” 

“Hey Y/N, I’m here to help okay?” He begins to untie the rope around your hands, careful to not hurt you. “Bucky’s on his way. It’s over.” 

As Sam was untying your feet Bucky runs into the room and rushes over to you. His heart breaks when he sees you upclose. Your cheeks that were so rosy just last night were now white as a ghost, your lips once red were now blue and bruised, the sparkle he had just seen hours ago in your eyes was now replaced with fear.

You stand up with the help of Sam and look towards Bucky. 

“Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Sam, call the doc, let her know we’re coming.” Bucky's eyes are moving around your body, scouting out every injury he can find and taking note of it.

The only thing you can bring yourself to say is thank you, your lip wobbles as you say it and your voice is shaky with each word but Bucky understands. “Tha.. Thank you for saving me.” 

He slowly reaches out to hold you against him, giving you enough time to tell him to stop if you want to. He wraps his arm around you, carefully avoiding anywhere that looks injured. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why they came after you. I promise as soon as I found out what was happening I started looking for you. I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head, he doesn't owe you an apology, none of this was his fault. The motion only makes you feel nauseous, and you feel as if you might throw up if you move anymore. “I can’t. I can’t.. I feel sick.” Bucky stops as soon as you ask. 

“Can I carry you?”

“Please.” You were embarrassed to be feeling this weak but he didn’t seem bothered by it. He just seemed sad. 

—---

After you get seen by the avenger’s doctor and prescribed some pretty strong painkillers you finally arrive home. Bucky tried to get you to stay in for longer, he was worried you would be feeling worse once the shock had worn off but you insisted on coming home. You needed to be in your own space. 

“I’ll make you some food, you wanna get changed out of those?” You weren’t really hungry but you couldn't bring yourself to say no. You did want to badly get changed out of the clothes Natasha had lent you, they were very tight. 

“Thank you.” 

Bucky wanted to tell you to stop thanking him, you should be angry at him and it was killing him that you were treating him with so much kindness after everything you’d been through at his fault.

Bucky makes you a sandwich, knowing you probably wouldn't be too hungry. “It’s just to get some food in you. Some water too.” He said as he handed you a plate and glass of water. 

The next words that left Bucky’s mouth were ones he’d never wanted to say but it didn’t feel right staying with you after what he’d put you through. “Do you need anything else before I go?” 

You nearly choke as you swallow that bite. He gets down to his knee and looks up at you. “You okay?” You immediately start crying, not even trying to hide it. “Hey, what's wrong?” You hadn’t been apart from Bucky since he found you, and now that he was leaving you felt so scared again.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” His heart breaks again at how soft your voice comes out, almost as if you were afraid to speak.

He wants nothing more than to stay with you, keep you safe but he feels that with every second he spends with you the more you'll be at risk. 

“Is there anyone I can call to stay with you?” 

“Could you?” You almost whisper to him. 

“What was that?” He asks softly. 

“Could you stay?” 

“You really want me to?” 

“I do.” 

He almost, almost says yes before he remembers how you looked when he found you in that room. He stands up and backs away a little. “I don’t think I should.” 

You try to stand up and walk towards him but get a bit dizzy as you do, grabbing onto his arm for balance. “Why not?” 

“Doll, sit down.” He guides you gently back onto the couch. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“No Bucky, that’s not true. I really like you Bucky, and whilst this may not have been the second date we had in mind, I don’t want to lose you. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same.”

“I never said I didn't feel the same way, I just.. I just can't put you in any more danger.”

“The way I see it, you saved me from danger. And I know now that you’ll always be there to save me. Please stay?” He nods. 

“You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.”

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 2)

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 5k

—————

“Lady (Y/N)?”

I came back to myself suddenly, no longer stuck inside the memory of my introduction to Lord Tywin. Remembering that day made me even angrier than I had previously been. How on earth was I supposed to believe Baelish? Because either he was lying, or Tywin Lannister was desperate. Gods, the thought of denying him much needed assistance was a sweet one.

“Lady (Y/N), I understand that you aren’t fond of Lord Tywin, but I implore you to think not only of yourself. Look at your two siblings. Dare I say that they would very much appreciate this alliance,” Lord Baelish said, folding his fingers together in his usual manner. My eyes narrowed, because if there was one thing I would not stand it was being played. Not by this disgusting man, especially. 

“What are you getting at, Littlefinger? I’m not going to play Lord Tywin’s dirty game, nor yours just because you think-”

“Lord Baelish, would you permit us a few moments alone? To discuss this offer amongst ourselves,” Margaery interrupted, letting go of Loras and instead reaching out to touch my shoulder. I wondered how she tolerated having to manage her two older siblings. 

“Certainly, Lady Margaery. I would suggest that you take all the time you need, but it is also a rather urgent offer. Stannis intends to take Kings Landing, as you know,” he replied with his meek tone. Every time I heard Baelish speak I wanted nothing more than to press a blade to his throat and make him stop. 

I watched him leave the room, though the air of disturbance he had brought with him did not disappear. The second that the door closed, Margaery sighed out and turned to me, placing both of her hands on my arms. 

“(Y/N), I beg you to consider this. An alliance with House Lannister would be more than good for us, and if you’re honest with yourself you know I’m right. Sansa Stark’s betrothal to Joffrey is entirely irrelevant while her family is still in open rebellion, we could easily find a way to marry me to him. I could be queen. And Stannis Baratheon doesn’t stand a chance against both us and the Lannisters, which means that Loras would stop behaving… well, like this…” Margaery reasoned, pulling me aside and keeping her voice at a whisper. We both looked over at our brother who was sitting down at the table with his head in his hands. I’d never seen him like this before, and I couldn’t deny that it was distressing. 

“I… I understand where you’re coming from, Margaery, but this is Tywin Lannister and Petyr Baelish. The second that the war is won they’ll turn on us for rebelling against the crown, don’t you see that? Littlefinger and chaos go hand in hand, he isn’t here simply to ‘help’ us. And I don’t trust that Tywin Lannister is being genuine; I would rather die than believe otherwise,” I pointed out, grimacing at the idea of having to work alongside him. Margaery could see right through me, though. 

“I know how much you hate him, (Y/N), for the gods sake everyone in all seven kingdoms does. But you need to put that aside for House Tyrell. Remember that it took father almost an entire year to forgive you for what happened at Casterly Rock, and it was only because of grandmother's relentless convincing that he decided to let you represent House Tyrell in the Greyjoy Rebellion. Had it not been for that, who knows if he would’ve named you commander of our army. It is a title he can still revoke and give to Loras. However, if House Tyrell were to emerge from this war victorious because of a decision that you decided to make…” my sister reminded, not so subtly suggesting that if I played our cards right it might cement my position. I scowled, hating that she would use that logic on me.  

“Margaery, I don’t appreciate what you’re suggesting,” I muttered in reply, not hiding my glare whatsoever. My sister often played just as dirty as I did. 

“I know you don’t, and that’s why you’re going to listen.”

“It’s exactly why I’m not going to accept Lord Tywin’s offer, because it puts us in too much danger. I am not as foolish as Ned Stark, Margaery. When Kings Landing is safe and Robb Stark is dead, where will the lions turn their attention?” I questioned rhetorically, knowing that my sister understood all of the implications that came with us having chosen to back Renly. 

“Their attention will be on us no matter what we do, sister. But if we don’t ally with Tywin Lannister, they’ll be even more likely to remember it. If we help them defeat these enemies, the Lannisters will be certain to show us at least a little gratitude. And when I marry Joffrey and provide heirs, they’ll be forced to forget it. Plus, we would be reinforcing his claim. How many other houses are rushing to do that?” Margaery pointed out, giving me a sort of pleading look. She was pleading for me to see her side of it. To do the ‘right’ thing.

“If we join now, sister, I would be no better than Lord Tywin himself—sacking Kings Landing and ordering the murder of all the remaining Targaryens just so that King Robert would not distrust him,” I insisted wildly, making an excuse more than anything. I would never admit that, but deep down I knew it. 

“That is something entirely different, (Y/N), and no matter how good you are at lying it’ll never be good enough to fool yourself. You must put your anger aside. For me—for Loras! I am begging you, sister. I am begging you to be the reasonable, intelligent, and pragmatic leader that you usually are,” Margaery whispered, her stare so intense that I had to look away. I couldn’t recall a single time in my life that she had ever insisted upon something with such passion.

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and shaking my head to myself. Gods, what was I doing? I swallowed, blinking a few times and then taking several strides to my writing desk. It was dark, but the light from the hearth was enough to see what I was doing as I reached for my ink and quill. 

I grabbed a sheet of parchment with a sort of resentment, taking my anger out on the poor material as I scratched down some irrelevant words of agreement and signed my name at the bottom of it. This was nothing but a formality, and I hated myself for doing even this. 

Both Margaery and Loras watched me roll the thing up and seal it with golden rose. There was a sort of gratitude in both of their eyes, and for just a moment it made me less angry about what I was doing. 

If I was going to go against my principles for anybody, it ought to be them. They were worth far more than Tywin Lannister, and that was a fact I had to continually repeat to keep myself from tearing the paper in my hands. 

I approached my door, opening it and being met with Ser Elias’ armored back for just a moment as he moved aside. Baelish stood there, and the smug look on his pathetic face almost made me reconsider. From the moment that he had suggested Stannis and my siblings, he had won. He knew that, otherwise he wouldn’t have been smiling. 

“Where does Lord Tywin intend to meet us?” I questioned, knowing that the upcoming battle was so restricted on time that we would need to meet somewhere. Littlefinger would’ve been instructed to tell me where, too. 

“Tumblers Falls, my lady.”

I made a noise of affirmation, promptly handing him my scroll. He gave his little bow in return, and my stomach sank as I watched him go down the hallway. It felt as though I had just sold my soul.

I shook the feeling away, turning around and looking back into the room. My acceptance of Lord Tywin’s proposal seemed to have revived my younger brother, for he was on his feet and more alert than he had been in hours. The prospect of killing Stannis Baratheon was ringing around in his head, I supposed. 

I sighed once more, giving him a nod.

“I’ll call the banners, Loras. Go wake father.”

—————

It was early in the morning when we met with Lord Tywin and Lord Randyll Tarly, neither of whom sparked any joy in those around them. As we had approached their camp and seen the banners flying, I wondered if this was perhaps the most miserable alliance in all of history. Although—even despite my deep anger and annoyance—the thought of Tywin Lannister and Randyll Tarly having dinner together and sitting in a grim, brooding silence was somewhat amusing. 

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” 

I turned to Loras, raising both eyebrows to signal that I hadn’t entirely processed what he’d said to me. He sighed and opened his mouth to speak again. “(Y/N), you mustn't let this grudge interfere with things. Pretend that this is your first time meeting Lord Tywin, or- or remind yourself that it’s been 11 years since you last saw him. I cannot imagine he bears any intense animosity toward you, you were only a girl when it happened,” he said, attempting to calm me.

“Well I still bear intense animosity toward him, even if it has been 11 years. I pray that you understand, Loras, how little I truly want to be a part of this alliance. I am doing it for you and Margaery alone, because I am your older sister and it is my job to see to your happiness. If it wasn’t for the two of you, I would’ve gladly declined this offer,” I grumbled, shifting in my armor. I had been wearing it so much lately that I wanted nothing more than to be entirely free of it, even if just for one entire day. 

“Well, if it’s any motivation, sister, I’m certain that father will be more than pleased once it’s all over. Perhaps he’ll even step back from our army entirely,” Loras added on, hoping that at least one thing could console me. I sighed, shaking my head. 

“I would’ve found another way to make father entrust me entirely.”

“Perhaps, but this way is the best.”

As we entered the encampment, Loras and I instantly stopped all conversation, continuing on with just a few bannermen as the rest of our army settled in with my father. He was at the back, of course, just as most seasoned lords were. It seemed the older one got, the more comfortable they became leading men from the back. My father did it, and so would Randyll Tarly and Tywin Lannister. Loras and I would lead the vanguard, though. I had no doubt about that. 

It was no difficult task to find Tywin Lannister’s tent, and the two of us dismounted rather gracefully. It was a sort of Tyrell appearance that we meant to keep up. People never suspect roses of anything, which was perhaps one of the most advantageous things about our house. 

“Sister, if you should like it, I can speak with Lord Tywin in your place. I don’t want you to become too aggravated,” Loras offered quietly as we approached the entrance. I instantly shook my head.

“No, thank you. I’m hateful, not incompetent.” 

The guards stationed outside Lord Tywin’s tent obviously knew who we were, for it did not take any real common sense to decipher us: two obviously rich young adults dressed in armor and green capes. They announced our names and then opened the flaps of the tent, holding them until Loras and I were completely inside. 

As I entered, I instantly set my eyes upon my sworn enemy. I could not even process that this man was an ally, seated at the table and gazing down at his map. His hair was almost entirely white now, though it had a sort of blonde shine. His beard still had a bit more color, but was distinctly white along the edges. I noted the same piercing eyes when he did us the ‘honor’ of looking up. 

“Lady (Y/N), Ser Loras, thank you for coming,” he said casually, only holding our gazes long enough to be appropriate. I suddenly noticed the two men beside him, and based on their attire realized that they were Kevan Lannister and Randyll Tarly. 

“Of course, Lord Tywin. Nothing should please us more than an alliance to stop a common enemy,” Loras spoke first, using the term ‘us’ rather loosely in my opinion. I supposed there was some truth, though. I greatly sympathized with my brother and hoped that whatever grief he was processing would partly be healed by this endeavor. 

“We intend to move out in just over an hour. We should be there in time to surprise them and attack before they manage to cross the Blackwater Rush and reach the mud gate,” Lord Tywin said, rising from his seat. Lord Tarly did the same, and gave the Old Lion a simple nod before leaving the tent. I assumed they had previously discussed something. 

Kevan Lannister had remained at the table, and I found myself drifting toward the map and examining our plans for the evening. Seeing a fault, I looked up to find Lord Tywin already staring at me. He had not moved from the table, he had only stood up.

“Any criticisms for me this time, Lady (Y/N)?” He asked, voice icy and eyes equally so. I pressed my fists into the parchment as childish irritation found its way back to me.

“Yes, but I’ll try and make it constructive, my lord. Perhaps, by some miracle, you’ll be more responsive this time,” I scowled, trying my hardest to not be utterly disrespectful. I could tell by the look on Loras’ face that it was not a successful attempt.

“How reassuring it is, Lady (Y/N), to know that you’ve lost some of your vanity and ego,” Lord Tywin replied, face as firm as the stones that comprised Casterly Rock. Had I focused on anything but Lord Tywin, I would’ve realized that both Loras and Lord Kevan were open mouthed and ready to intervene should this conversation become explosive. 

“The sentiment is mutual, Lord Tywin.”

The two of us stared at each other for a good minute, neither relenting or breaking eye contact. Just as Lord Kevan stood up to speak, the Old Lion decided that he did not want assistance in this conversation.

“I have earned my pride, Lady (Y/N). Forgive me, but I find myself doubting how truthfully the same can be said of you,” he not-so-subtly insulted, his jaw emboldening with his anger. I felt my own teeth pressing together just before I replied.

“Quite truthfully, Lord Tywin, and if you have the decency to not be an insufferable cunt for once and actually listen to me, perhaps tonight’s battle can be added to the list of achievements that both of us have the right to feel proud of,” I snarled, serving the Lord of the Rock the brutally honest statement that he was so seemingly asking for. 

Loras attempted to put his hand out to me, but my sharp glare instantly made him freeze. Once he had, my eyes were once again on Lord Tywin. There was a glimmer of amusement, anger, and challenge in his eyes. I waited with angry anticipation for whatever he might say next.

With only a brief glance at his younger brother, something shifted. He decided to yield, simply moving around the table and standing beside me. I did not doubt he was furious, but I also knew that he understood the significance of our alliance and did not care so much to insult me as he cared to join the two largest armies in Westeros. 

“Go on then, girl. What would you have us do?”

His usage of the word ‘girl’ sparked fury just as he intended, but I knew it was now my turn to compromise despite that. And gods, it took so much strength. 

“Lord Tywin, based on the blocks you have laid out, I take it that you intend to have your troops north of the river?”

“Correct.”

“And that you would have Randyll Tarly accompany both the vanguard and my father south of the river?”

“Correct. What is your point?” Lord Tywin questioned, annoyance ingrained in his voice. I scowled, wishing he would learn to be patient for a single time in his miserable existence. 

“My point is that Randyll Tarly has the smallest number of men out of the three houses. The narrow stretch of land in front of the mud gate is too small for Stannis Baratheon to land any significant number of men on. What he is obviously going to do is have men land south of the river and take smaller boats to the mud gate while cannons from his ships attempt to batter the walls. It would be wisest for us to focus most men south of the river, for while our ships combat Stannis’ we need to prevent the rest of his soldiers from reaching the mud gate at all. We ought to have Randyll Tarly go on the north side of the river and instead join our two armies south of it. That, plus our collective vanguard, will prevent the continued crossing of the river. Plus, King Joffrey’s men will also be at the mud gate to assist Lord Tarly,” I explained, motioning with the different sigil blocks as I did. There was something inexplicably exciting about battle strategies. 

Lord Tywin thought about all that I had said entirely in silence, and after a moment he turned to look at his younger brother. Lord Kevan cleared his throat, nodding.

“It would be smart, Tywin. Lady Tyrell is correct in assuming that most of Stannis’ men will be south of the river. If we plan to move out earlier so we can beat them to it, we ought to make sure it’s effective once we do get there.”

There was another moment of silence, and then the older man beside me finally nodded. He seemed resentful that I had actually had a good idea, and it gave me satisfaction to see him bothered, even if it was subtly. Although, I had to admit that there was something else in his eyes. Almost like a look of revelation. 

“There is something else, my lords. Loras?”

My brother stepped toward the table, swallowing a bit anxiously. I did not blame him, the environment was unreasonably tense.

“I have the armor of Renly Baratheon. I believe that- well, if I were to wear it, perhaps some of the men that decided to join Stannis after his death will believe that he has come back and join our side,” Loras explained, making both of the lions raise their eyebrows. It was a clever idea, it could not be denied. Loras and I had discussed it before leaving Highgarden.

“A clever thought, Ser Loras. Perhaps that will be helpful,” Lord Kevan nodded, turning to his kin. Lord Tywin said nothing but similarly seemed appreciative. I wondered whether or not he would look so content if he knew it had truthfully been my idea. 

“Yes, perhaps. Kevan, would you inform Lord Tarly of the change in plans?” he asked his brother after a moment. Lord Kevan of course nodded and left us alone. I similarly whispered to Loras that he ought to prepare our own men to be moving out shortly, it was approaching noon and I expected it would be about half a day's ride to Kings Landing. We should want to be there at about dusk. 

Then it was only Lord Tywin and I in the tent. He had moved away from the map and toward a separate table. 

“Do you drink?” He asked suddenly, pouring himself a cup of wine. The question appeared odd to me, because of course I did. Who did not?

“Not before battles, my lord. When I have no height or strength advantages, my wits is all I have,” I told him, reasoning that perhaps he had meant to add ‘before battles’ at the end of his sentence. The Old Lion nodded.

“You’ve done well with them. Even if your temper has not simmered, nor your manners improved, you have at least become smarter,” he said, raising his cup to his lips. My eyes narrowed at him, and I wondered if it was possible for him to go even a minute without being utterly rude and annoying.

“Well, I would thank you if I was unaware of that fact. It is no wonder that I have gotten smarter, I have acquired more experience. And rest assured, Lord Tywin, it is only you that receives such ill-treatment,” I told him, fixing my gloves and flexing my hands to adjust. The leather was pleasant against the bitter cold, but the anger in me was causing a rising body temperature, and it was becoming uncomfortable.

“Ah yes, this treatment is reserved for insufferable cunts, is that it?” He shot back, hoping to make me feel small for calling him such a thing. How genuinely pathetic of him.

“Precisely. It’s good to know you still have your wits about you, Lord Tywin,” I affirmed, keeping my rock hard glare on him as he took a step closer and towered over me. I wanted to laugh, for he had attempted the same thing when I was a girl.

“You’d better be careful, Lady (Y/N). House Tyrell is an ally now, but that does not mean I’m going to accept your insults and childish behavior,” he said, speaking low and deep. 

“You forget, Lord Tywin, that my armies greatly outnumber yours. I will fight with you for my family, but nothing could ever possess me to feel civil towards you,” I replied, not afraid of his icy eyes. I would not take disrespect, nor would I ever permit myself to feel an ounce of fear. I was the Nightshade of the Garden now, not some 14 year old girl.

Tywin stayed quiet for a moment, and then turned around and walked a few steps to drink from his cup. As he set it down, he looked back at me and sighed with a sort of frustration. 

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed as though he was attempting to figure something out, and even if it was just a normal kind of observation, I immediately felt that he was scrutinizing me. It made me even more bitter, because after all, it wasn’t as though he was an adored man. Even he was not so prideful as to think that. 

“May I ask you something, Lady Tyrell?”

“No.”

“Why is it that you continue to hate me so much? I understand that you did not appreciate being informed of the fact that at the age of 14 you were not all knowing, but since that day I have done nothing more to slight you or your family. You, on the other hand, have been quite vocal about your contempt for me even despite it having been 11 years. So I ask, why?”

I stared at him rather seriously for a moment before laughing to myself in disbelief. Was he truly being serious? Why did I hate him? 

“I will be fighting in the vanguard with my brother tonight, Lord Tywin. I will see you after the battle, I’m certain. Men like you never actually partake in the fighting, after all,” I said, suddenly transforming into my sister as I gave him the most utterly charming smile that I could. He would expect anger from me, and so being polite would naturally frighten him more. 

I turned around to leave then, but his voice was sharp and clear in my ears.

“I have asked you a question, Lady Tyrell.”

Lady Tyrell… it was a title that I enjoyed hearing, but for some reason—that I assumed was my hatred—I could not stand hearing it from him. Gods, it sounded horrible coming from him. I almost wished he would revert back to ‘girl’. I had a feeling, however, that even despite his anger, manners would prevent him from any long term usage of it. I was a lady, after all. If he was going to be cruel to me, he was going to do it properly. 

“And I made it quite clear, Lord Lannister, that I have no intention of answering it. I will see you after the battle, my lord. Should you be in need of any more dire assistance from my family, you know where to find us,” I replied curtly, not giving him any opportunity to reply as I left his tent. I felt blood rushing to my face with a familiar anger.

Gods, I could not wait for this damned war to be over so I could return to Highgarden and never have to see the man again. And to be certain of that fact, I would pray for peace in the realm until he was dead. If only the gods would be so kind.

—————

“Does everything fit alright, Loras?” I asked, running my hands over his armor to make sure each part was properly in place. So far as I could tell, Renly’s armor fit him perfectly. 

“Yes, it fits just as well as my own. I fear the only thing that might not fit so well is his helm. His head was always far bigger than mine…” Loras trailed off, reaching for it and holding it in both of his hands. I could tell that looking at the helm took him somewhere else, perhaps deep into a memory. 

Seeing him this way calmed me, for it made this wretched alliance seem worth it. Even if Tywin Lannister was the worst cunt in all seven kingdoms, my brother deserved this. He deserved to avenge Renly and he deserved to shame Stannis. If this alliance meant he got those two things, then so be it. I would agree to it a million times for that, even despite my initial fury. 

I watched Loras pull the helm on then, and even though it was not a precise fit, it was good enough that there was no need to worry about it coming off during battle. For a moment, it was almost like I was looking at Renly again, and it was an odd sensation. Renly and I had been on good terms throughout the time of our alliance, and I had been saddened by his death to be certain. Wars just made it difficult to properly mourn anybody. 

“You know… even if I was only one of his knights and advisors, I was happy that way. Always with him, or at least near him. Gods, after my initial jealousy over his marriage to Margaery, that made me happy too. Their marriage would’ve meant he was never far,” Loras noted somberly, looking at himself in the mirror. Looking at Renly in the mirror.

It was an interesting thought, and one that I’d never considered before. The only reason that I had been happy about his marriage to Margaery was because it meant that it wasn’t to me. It had taken my father far too much convincing, and I was grateful that Renly hadn’t been offended by the second daughter. After all, he was a third son. Well, it was irrelevant. Margaery had always been better suited to marriage than I, and she had saved me from it. 

“Oh Loras…”

I had wanted to say something more to comfort my brother, but I found that nothing would come out. I had not a clue what to say to him, much to my frustration. Loras only reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of understanding. I was glad that he understood my sympathies. 

Just then, the flaps of our tent burst open and a young squire came in carrying my sword. The boy looked quite young, and it made me wary for a moment. How could a boy this young be trusted to do anything of real importance? Though, when I thought about it he was probably 14 or so. 

“Lady Tyrell, your sword. It’s been… it’s been coated in the poisons just as you asked. Ser Elias showed me how to do it before we left Highgarden,” the boy said, laying the sword down on a table as he attempted to catch his breath. He’d been running around, I presumed. 

“Thank you, young man. I’m certain Ser Elias taught you well.”

As the boy bowed his head and rushed out, I sighed. Gods, I missed Ser Elias. Even though he wasn’t anything close to a squire, he often took on such jobs because he knew that I trusted him more than anybody else. He had been with me when I’d learned how to use poisons and such as a young girl, and he’d picked it up just as quickly. There was never a doubt of his quality.

I moved over to the table, unsheathing my sword about halfway and inspecting the gleam. Yes, it had been done well enough. I pushed the weapon back in, a small smile emerging on my face. My use of poisons, especially when it came to weaponry, had become somewhat renowned throughout the seven kingdoms after the Greyjoy Rebellion. 

My father had originally had no intention to support Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark, but I had seen the opportunity for what it was. After remaining loyal during the king’s own rebellion, I knew that our ties to the crown were among some of the weakest, and to help suppress the Greyjoys would strengthen them. Of course, I had only been 15 at that time, and so it had taken quite a bit of convincing from both me and my grandmother in order for my father to grant me the privilege of leading men. The agreement had been that I would be given a host of around a thousand men, and that I was only to lead from the back—something I had not honored whatsoever.

When the rebellion had been successfully crushed, many tales began to spread about the 15 year old Tyrell girl who, at the head of her vanguard, charged straight into the battle and fearlessly plowed through man after man. And not only had I done that, but I’d also instructed all my men to coat their swords in poison. Thus, I was granted both command of the Tyrell army—for my father could hardly refuse me after I’d proven my skill and improved relations with the crown—and the nickname ‘the Nightshade of the Garden’. 

In my opinion, it was quite fitting. Well, fitting enough once I managed to look past the fact that nightshade is a consumed poison. I certainly had no desire to kill anybody that way. Not yet, at least. Spending too much time around Tywin Lannister and his family might be exactly the thing to change my mind. All I could do was pray that this war would be over soon enough, and the first step toward ending it would be tonight. For that reason, I prayed that my brother would get his wish: to see Stannis Baratheon dead by dawn. 

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady 

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[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

Tamed Seas - Poseidon x Reader

(A/N)

This is the very first post I’m making on this equally new account and also the very first time I am ever using a second person POV for the reader. Let me know your thoughts!

The following story is just for shits and giggles. I do not own any of the characters, they are the property of Shinya Umemura and Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

Warning: Swearing from my disclaimer.

Tamed Seas

Poseidon x Reader

They were never allowed to stare.

If Poseidon never looked anyone in the eye, deeming them unworthy of even a simple gaze, then anyone other than himself were equally unworthy in looking at his wife.

Just before the meeting had started about a decision to be made on humanity’s fate, Poseidon had entered in his full regalia, his wife walking alongside him. Of course, such a prestigious couple deserved such a special entrance, as Hermes, per Zeus’ request too, played his violin most ceremoniously, a proud smirk on his face upon seeing the royal feet step perfectly on the red carpet he had immediately placed upon knowing of their arrival. Zeus’ older brother held a record of never attending meetings, much more any simple get-togethers unless they were of real utmost importance such as this one.

Shiva’s eyes grew at the sight of the couple. Even though Poseidon’s wife had originally been a mortal who had ascended to godhood, you were glowing and looked as ethereal as Aphrodite. Was he seeing things? He blinked and leaned forward in his seat. The last time he saw you was at the announcement of your wedding, then after the ceremony he never caught a glimpse of you ever again and only heard stories of your new and impressive conquests. Were you always this godlike?

As if reading his thoughts, he gulped upon finding himself at the receiving end of Poseidon’s cold and stoic stare. He shrugged his shoulders. Man, he had heard rumors of his sudden protectiveness towards his wife, but he never expected him to be this overly protective. He was merely trying to figure out if his wife was always glowing like this or not. Both figuratively and literally.

Alright, maybe he was checking you out a little bit.

Unlike the god of the seas, his wife greeted Zeus, and all the familiar gods with a warm smile. It had been ages since you had seen them all together, and the sight brought a sense of nostalgia to the days where you had first earned their favor, then their respect, and then their friendship. Although your story might not be as mighty (and as physically taxing) as Hercules’ was, you considered those ‘young’ days to also be one of your best apart from getting married to the man god who you had given your heart for and will continue to love and cherish for the rest of your life. Since you became Poseidon’s wife, you had not had much time to do leisure outside the palace, and correspondingly after heralding the title of ‘queen of the seas,’ you had taken it upon yourself to help your husband in matters concerning his own kingdom and the vast seas themselves.

“Master Zeus—” Zeus threw you a knowing look. “My apologies, Zeus, it’s such a pleasure to see you again!”

“Same here, little lady! Judging by the frequent calmness of the Atlantic Ocean, I trust you and my brother are faring along quite well?” The father of all gods chuckled, then wiggled his gray eyebrows. “Why, I must say, me and most of the other Olympians have been waiting for some new gods and goddesses to rule alongside us, if you know what I mean! Ehe he~”

Characteristic of your husband, Poseidon simply scoffed before muttering how gods such as themselves need not gossip. Blue eyes never left the Hindu god however, and unbeknownst to his wife, he lingered closer to you than usual whenever the both of you were in public.

This time, Shiva had had enough. He was sure he only looked at the direction of Poseidon’s wife only once, and admired you only once as well, yet he was being skewered by the god’s gaze for longer than what he had intentionally allowed. As if he had openly claimed you as his! He was the god of destruction for heaven’s sake, and would not allow this sacrilegious act, regardless of whoever he had to settle the score with. If it was with another prominent deity, then it would be a lot more fun. Golden eyes narrowed daringly, an equally challenging aura oozing from his form and startling the nearby gods.

“Lord Shiva, are you okay—”

“(Name). How many times do I have to repeat myself? You have no need to refer to other gods with honorifics.” Your attention whipped to your husband, who to your surprise, held a familiar, challenging stance. Unbeknownst to you but the other gods especially Aphrodite, Poseidon simply matched the challenge of the Hindu god. “You are the wife of the seas. All the other gods are beneath you, as they are beneath me as well.”

Upon hearing this, Shiva gripped his concrete armrests too greatly and it crumbled to dust under his strength. Pumped at where this interaction seemed to be heading−the thought of fighting, he stood up, arms on the ready to cause destruction. Despite being in the middle of the crowd and quite far away from the center of the stadium where the couple stood, he caught glimpse of the famous trident he would never be caught dead wielding. Now this was getting interesting!

“My rules are simple: you disrespect me, you die,” He pointed at Poseidon, which the latter found disgusting enough to scrunch up his nose.

“Should we put a stop to this, Lord Zeus?” Hermes asked behind a white gloved hand. Not exceeding any expectations, Zeus laughed after a stroke of his beard and clapped. He always was one to find entertainment in alike situations, especially after the fact that this was the only time, he and all the other gods had really felt Poseidon riled up. The expression on the god of the seas’ face remained calm but it was betrayed by the suffocating, dominating presence he emitted from where he stood.

“And after you die, your wife would become firsthand witness of realizing how your title betrays your strength,” Shiva stretched, but halfway through noticed Poseidon’s quick work of his trident. He took a stance and prepared for the parrying move.

Amidst the unexpected battle that was soon to happen, to everyone’s surprise, a whistling sound echoed along the tension-filled stadium. It was a tune most foreign to the gods, all except one. From your lips, a beautiful melody poured out as a soft gentle breeze seemed to have begun to blow. It was an old tune you had learned from one of your many lifetimes in the mortal world,

And the very same one you had sung to Poseidon that had sustained him in trying moments.

Poseidon came to a full stop, his muscles unmoving as he listened and slowly, put his trident down. What was he thinking? He should not have been swayed by a foolish taunt committed by a foolish god. He was perfection incarnate. His wife would never fall for a foolish antic, so why did he? Now he was both angry and confused with himself. How could he have allowed himself for even a moment, for others to see him angry over this? What even was this?

Without the need to look at you, relishing in your fine tunes reminded him of the initial catalyst to his reaction and an answer to his question. Whenever matters concerned his wife, his emotions, which he learned were out of his control, seemed to defy all rational logic, which, even at the very beginning of your courtship, bypassed his ego. Of course, despite these strong feelings, the one thing Poseidon had control over were his actions. Therefore, he had always had a grip on how he presented himself. Although it was still a slow progress to figuring out this foreign feeling with his wife, the only other being he deemed truly worthy to allow into his life, anyone else will never have a chance of being privy to this side of him−a sentiment that thankfully, his wife shared. Though he never admitted it, he was confused and left mulling over for some time when you had also told him before that you had meant a different thing.

“…Foolish. Gods have no need for wars, we are perfect beings ourselves. You are not the reason for my presence here and are not worthy of my time and attention.” Another long silence fell, finally broken by Poseidon, ignoring the mix of surprised and fearful stares. His legs started carrying him towards the direction of one of the high stage boxes in the stadium. “Come, (Name).”

Shiva, who had his fists out and ready to fight, blinked twice in confusion before grunting, scratching the back of his ear violently in frustration. “You Greek gods have always been boring! And here I thought I’d finally be able to cause some destruction again, this time in Valhalla…”

Other than the Hindu god himself, none would ever understand if he had riled up the Greek god on purpose for the sake of his own entertainment or, perhaps, for something more personal. Zeus, meanwhile, followed the sight of his older brother walking quietly alongside his wife. Aphrodite nodded her head in his direction, affirming his suspicions. He would never fully understand the concept of love, but hey, he did get the message that all would be damned if so much as a single hair went missing on (Name)’s hair. And it seems he was not alone in this thought, as despite Shiva’s aggressive taunting, he also managed to peak into the gravity of the god of seas’ feelings towards his wife.

After Shiva had been calmed down and more gods piled in along with the Valkyries, Zeus set his meeting in motion. From the stands, Poseidon and his wife occupied the two seats that closely resembled their thrones. Eagerly sitting beside the god, (Name) grinned. Every day she had to sit close to her husband or even at times on his lap, she always felt like her body fit snugly against his.

Blue eyes stared uninterested at the spectacle.

“Dearest?” Poseidon turned his head and met your gaze. Any dark smudges had disappeared beneath his eyes, and his mouth that was carved into a seemingly permanent frown softened. His lips went from a thin line to a gentle curve.

“Thank you.”

No more words needed to be said. Poseidon knew what you were thanking him for, and he responded by closing his eyes as though he was swallowing every ounce of serenity that emitted from you. And the taste was sweet…

Above the angry retaliation of the gods regarding the verdict of Ragnarok, Poseidon enjoyed an elusive peace. Even if it was just a simple moment like this, he set his features in calm lines and his shoulders sank−a truly rare sight, a special secret between himself and his wife.

“I don’t care about this. I am eager to go home.” Poseidon whispered under his breath.

A chuckle left his wife’s lips. “We’re going home soon, don’t fret.”

[lovelikedestiny]

Nicky is the mom of the team and has three grown-up children he has to take care of

“What the fuck did you two idiots do?” Andy wants to know sharply as soon as Booker and Joe stumble through the door and a very small part of Booker that isn’t freezing so bad he can’t feel any part of his body, knows she is asking not only Joe but also him.

“Booker fell into the frozen lake,” Joe sends him to his doom without hesitation and although Booker needs all of his strength to cling to Joe and stay awake, he makes an attempt to punch him in the side. Joe dodges it as elegantly as possible by carrying half the weight of a French giant. “I dutifully pulled him out.”

“Y-Y-You’re…s-s-s-such a liar. J-Joe was on the lake too b…ut he didn’t b-reak through the ice.” Booker is glad he manages it to not bite off his tongue.

“Because you’re fatter than me.” Joe’s grip on Booker tightens when Booker slumps towards the ground a little further.

Turns out, insulting one isn’t easy when your body fights for survival. “S-S-S-Shut the…fuck up, asshole!”

“Hey!” Andy cuts off their bickering, arms crossed in front of her chest. “You’re aware of the fact that Nicky explicitly told you to stay away from the lake for precisely the reason someone could break through the ice and die. Did you die, Booker?”

“No?” Booker says unclear as if drunk with non existing conviction and weak voice.

At the same time Joe blurts out: “Don’t tell Nicky, boss!”

Immediately, Andy makes a step back, raising her hands in a defensive gesture. “Are you fucking kidding me? When I don’t tell him, he’ll be angry with me too! That is your problem, boys, not mine.”

Booker’s fast breath is the only noise for a few seconds and he thinks that Joe and Andy have to hear his racing heart.

“If you don't tell him, Nicky will never know!” It confuses Booker how pleading Joe sounds, considering that an angry Nicky is not really that frightening. “It could be our secret for a decade or so until I tell him, ‘Oh, remember the time Booker and I didn’t listen to you and Booker died in the frozen lake?’ and Nicky will sigh but smile and not be angry at all. Please, Andy!”

“Booker looks like fucking death warmed-up, and your fucking puppy dog eyes can’t cover up the lies coming out of your mouth! You’re screwed. Don’t get me involved in your shit.”

The floor looks so soft. Booker is incredibly tired but the indefinable grunts he makes are being ignored by the others.

“I’ll give you my dessert for two month!”

“Tempting, but no. Not enough to stand against Nicky.”

“Andyyyyy,” Joe whines and Booker tries very hard to blink very pitifully up to her which is no Hercules-task in his state. “Booker and I will owe you each three, four, seven favors.”

Andy opens her mouth again, actually seeming to take it into consideration.

“Booker will even do your chores for three month,” Joe adds.

“H-uh?” Booker makes; his tongue like a dead thing in his mouth.

“Just don’t tell him, I’m begging you, Andromache!”

“Don’t tell me what?” It is still a secret to Booker how in the world Nicky always seems to know when they’re cooking shit up or talking about him.

All three of them freeze like deer in headlights - or well, Booker tries but he is shaking violently.

“Fuck,” Andy hisses not a bit unsuspiciously.

“Hello, light of my life!” Joe greets him in a terrible attempt to be cheerful and relaxed.

If Booker hadn’t been so cold, he probably would have made a dumb comment about Joe’s nervous grin or cracked a joke on how obvious the panic in Andy’s eyes can be seen.

“What happened?” Nicky asks, his small smile disappearing and being replaced by concern.

“iek.” This sound comes from Joe and Booker shakes his head inwardly.

This man can weave metaphors as colorful as the blossoms of bright flowers, bring you to tears with poetic words but faced with his husband, hands on his hips, he fails miserably and can’t lie for shit.

They all know that.

“Uh…” Neither Joe nor Booker can come up with a logical explanation fast enough.

A sigh which makes Joe wince and Andy twitch even though Nicky’s focus rests on Joe and Booker. “Let me guess: You two went to the frozen lake and stepped on its surface although I, let me remind you real quick, told you not to because the ice is dangerously thin and could break at any moment, causing someone to fall into the extremely cold water and die.”

He pauses, taking the time to stare them down with his pale eyes and Booker is glad he has an excuse to lower his head. “And one of you broke through the ice and into the, as I have already said, extremely cold water, am I right?”

“Maybe,” Joe admits timidly and Booker feels very useless, trembling at his side, the evidence in person.

“Booker, did you die?” Nicky talks to him and Booker curses in his mind, grimacing.

“M-Maybe,” he echoes Joe and gets a huff in return.

“Our immortality is nothing to waste. We don’t know when it will stop, so it is all the more important to use it carefully.”

“I already told these two idiots t-” Andy chimes in.

“Now I’m talking, Andy. You’re not better in this regard. Did you think I wouldn’t find the blood stains on your clothes because you tried to pet a bear yesterday?”

“That is absolutely…”

“Don’t you dare lie to my face, Andromache.” Nicky returns her gaze adamant until Andy mumbles something incomprehensible and shuffles to one of the chairs where she plops down and pouts like a child.

There is a gentle touch on Booker’s shoulder. “Can you look at me for a moment, Sebastien?” It irritates Booker how soft Nicky’s voice sounds and his eyes, reflecting the flickering flames of the lit fire, are kind. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold. Tired.” Booker tells him with clattering teeth and Nicky nods.

“Joe, help Booker out of his clothes and take yours off too. Andy, get all the blankets and put them in front of the fire.”

While Andy splutters but stands up again to do as she was told, Joe gasps dramatically. “What? Why?”

“We have to get Booker’s body temperature high again and body heat helps with that.”

“Okay…do you…come later too, Nicky?” Joe wiggles with his eyebrows and gets a pillow into his face.

“Not talking, doing.” In a blink Nicky is out of the room and shortly after, Andy shoves a nearly completely naked Booker roughly under the blankets she brought and Joe slips under the covers too, pressing his warm body to Booker’s back.

Feeling anything other than cold is surprisingly pleasant and Booker doesn’t mind it much that his brother is cuddling him with as good as no clothes on.

“W-W-Why is h-he not angry with m-me?” Booker whispers to Joe when he is certain that Nicky won’t return in the next seconds. “D-Do I have a b-bonus because I died?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Andy has taken position on the chair again, looking as grumpy as ever. “I will slit your throat myself if you should have a bonus. But thanks to you assholes he is angry with all of us.”

“B-But he didn’t seem angry to me.”

Joe shudders behind him. “That’s because it’s far worse than that.”

Before Booker can inquire more information, Nicky enters the room, a pair of socks in one hand, and everyone seems to hold their breath except for Booker who is fighting sleep. “I got you your fluffy socks.” He lifts the lower part of the blanket, carefully putting them on Booker’s feet.

“Oh…thank you.”

“Are you up for a hot chocolate or tea?” Nicky asks, already making his way over to the kitchen.

“C-Chocolate,” Booker answers sheepishly.

He hears Joe murmur an Arabic curse before saying: “Tea, please, my love.”

“Chocolate,” Andy says from her chair.

The moment Nicky is gone, she swears vulgarly, burying her face in her hands. “Motherfucking sake! You did a really good job, fucking idiots! Congratulations. I was doing just fine but no, you had to go to that fucking lake and now Nicky is fucking angry with me.”

“With us”, Joe corrects her and mutters something inaudible. “Fucking fuck, we’re fucked.”

Booker doesn’t understand why Joe and Andy make such a big deal out of it. “An angry Nicky is not t-t-the end of the w-w-orld.”

“Only someone who hasn’t experienced an angry Nicky yet would say bullshit like that,” Andy spits out and her scowl is almost hilarious.

“I-I have seen N-Nicky angry before,” Booker defends himself.

“You have never seen Nicky really angry,” Joe tells him seriously. “You’ve had the bonus of being the baby of the group.”

“W-What? B-But I’m like over a hundred n-now.”

“Well, I guess it’s time for your deflowering.” Joe chuckles behind him and Booker kicks his shin.

But what if Joe and Andy are right? Merde.

“Oh Allah, he is going to let us feel so, so, SO guilty that we punish ourselves with it.” This time Joe’s exclamation doesn’t even sound exaggerated.

“I didn’t sleep properly for two weeks in ‘13.” Andy stares lost in bad memories into the flames. “It was going so well, of course, the lucky string had to end.”

When Nicky sets down a tray in front of Booker, Booker knows instantly what Joe and Andy were talking about.

There are three steaming mugs and on both chocolates are cinnamon-smiley faces while the one with the tea has a heart where Booker has no idea how the hell Nicky did that. Despite the hot drinks, carefully arranged pastries and other snacks are on several plates, Booker detects Joe’s and Andy’s favorites and yup…

There is his comfort food.

“Do you feel like sitting up, Booker, or do you want me to help you?”

“Uh…”

It’s not helpful that Andy is cackling in her sleeve or that he can feel how Joe tries to hold his laughter and hides his face behind Booker’s back.

He takes the mug Nicky is giving him. “Careful, it is still quite hot. Don’t burn yourself. I made your chocolate with cardamom and a little vanilla, I hope you don’t mind.”

The exact way he prefers his chocolate. “Absolutely not, thank you, Nicky.”

“You’re very welcome. Joe, here is your tea. Two spoonfuls of sugar and the cookies you like to eat with tea because they don’t crumble when you dip them in.”

“How can I repay your kind heart, ya amar?” Joe makes an attempt to kiss Nicky’s hand when he is receiving his mug but Nicky stands up, leaves Joe kissing air and Andy’s snickering in the background breaks off abruptly as he turns to her.

“Cinnamon, chili and a shot of caramel, extra whipped cream and the last piece of baklava.” Nicky smiles and takes the empty tray. “If you need anything, call me. I’m in the kitchen preparing dinner from the ingredients I bought yesterday after walking through a snowstorm.”

“What the actual fuck,” Booker mumbles into his mug.

“I also used the last milk for your chocolates and tea, so there is nothing left for me.”

Andy eyes her hot drink with growing horror as if it would contain poison.

“Ah, before I forget.” Nicky stops dead in his tracks and turns around one last time. “I am incredibly disappointed with you.”

Joe chokes on a bite, nearly shedding his whole tea over him and Booker. “N…O!” Joe choughs out. “N-icolo, cuore mio, my soul, my heart, hayati.” Cough. “What can I d-” Cough.

Nicky gives them another smile. “Enjoy.”

When Nicky has left the room, Andy flips them off, whipped cream on her nose. “I fucking hate you all.”

“Nicolo, I love you very much!” Joe calls desperately, paying no attention to Andy.

“Shut up, Yusuf, and drink your tea,” Nicky shouts back and Booker clears his throat uncomfortably. “I think I want the baby-bonus back.”

[bloodycassian]

COLD NIGHTS - Cassian x Azriel x Reader - Prompt: 

hi i love your work so much!!! I was thinking a cassian x azriel x reader (i just love them sm, why have one when you can have two ) where the reader is sister of a high lord maybe day or winter court, and reader goes missing (kinda angsty) and her brother (a high lord) panics and goes to the night court for help (bc if her two bat boys can’t find her who will)  and az and cassian go full on panic mode and search for the reader, i was also thinking a fluffy cute ending where reader is just cuddling with azriel and cassian while her wounds heal take as much time as you need to write this, don’t pressure yourself. Take care lovely

Kallis would never forget the screams. The terror and panic that rushed through him when he realised that you were gone.  He sent half the city to search for you. He called upon Helion to inspect the magic. He was frantic in finding you. But it was like you had just disappeared out of nowhere. No sign of struggle, not a drop of blood spilled. The offender was sloppy in their ways, but their magic was strong. Helion could sense it.  They had a deathwish from Kallis himself if he ever found them. +  The first thing you saw were your cracked and bloody hands. They were split open from the dry cold wind. Sea air drifted into the cave. The cold brutal howling outside mixed with the roar of waves breaking confirmed your nightmares. Cape Tragedy. 

The islands off the coast of winter were known for their unforgiving nature to ships. Hence their name, Cape Tragedy. Also known as the Tragic coast, no stories were ever heard of any survivors of those crashes. If they had managed to survive the churning water, then the false salvation of the islands would kill them. It happened often enough that there were lighthouses set atop many of the bigger islands for ships to avoid on stormy days.

You coughed from the dry air, earning a pair of yellow eyes to dart to you. One of the three lesser fae males noticed you were awake and clapped. "She wakes! We've been waiting for you, sweetheart." His green skin was pale in the overcast light streaming in from the mouth of the cave. Snow Bear pelts lay all around. A disgrace in your culture. No citizen of Winter court would do such a thing. You looked to the walls to find weapons, and strange markings along the stone. Sailors from far away lands. 

Not even sailors. Pirates. A chill ran through you.  

"We're going to get your weight in gold, pretty one." The scaled male curled a piece of your hair behind you ear. Your stomach turned, and you tried to scoot away. "My brother will kill you first. And he'll take a long time doing it." You promised, trying to make your voice sound strong. Terror had you by it's grip though, and it was hard to do anything other than panic

. "Your brother? The pretty one that shears the Elk?" The green one asked. You laughed, and then were hissing in pain when the scaled male yanked on your hair. "What's so funny?" 

"You think my brother is an elk herder?" You spat "You must be dumber than you look." The males glanced between each other, then to the one who hadn't said anything yet.

"Who ye think you are then?" The male holding your hair stammered, trying to keep his panic under wraps. 

"Kallis' sister." You said with deadly calm. "And the high lord does not negotiate." 

"If you're so noble why you got such a mouth on ye?" The third male finally spoke.

They laughed.

"Maybe we will see just how much of a mouth-" He started again. He didnt have a chance to finish his disgusting words. You kicked, bending an ice spear straight up from the rocky ice floor and through the third male's body. Then the beating from the other two came. 

They bound your wrists and ankles in rope and tar. Their hands shook when they did it. It gave you a small bit of satisfaction. The potion they gave you to knock you out was just barely strong enough. You fought it as best you could, but it won. You could only hear the faint sounds of arguing then a crash of glass, then the cold winds whipping around you. And when you woke, your body ached.  The cold bit into your limbs. Your fingers were pale. Far too pale to be healthy. You knew frostbite when you saw it. Your body refused to move under your own power. Your blood was frozen to the icy ground. They had used a potion and transported you to a peninsula, and you could only faintly hear the ocean below. You could feel the potion wearing off, but you knew you weren't healing. Not yet. You reached down into your own mind, picking up the fading tendrils of power. Of your bond to the two you knew could save you. And you pulled as hard as you could manage.  --- "Fuck." The roaring thought shook Cassian awake. Bleary eyed, he glanced about the room as if there was someone actually shouting at him.  Then he felt it. The weak tug that had been silent for so long. And he knew it was nothing good. Frenzied, he met Azriel at the dining area. Where they spent the rest of the night planning, deducing a probable reason for you to be calling so weakly. They sent their worries to Rhys, but they were shooed away. "I'm researching. Meet me in the library at dawn." The two males tried to comfort each other. But the worry pulsating through the bond was too much to focus on. So they waited. Kallis appeared that morning. He spat his story and begged for help, practically in tears as he spoke to the three Illyrians. Cassian and Az knew something was wrong the moment you were attacked. Court laws forbade them interfering on Winter Court territory though.  As soon as the approval was given, the brothers winnowed to the border of Winter and started flying. + You were coming to terms that you would die in the cold. You had imagined death differently. Battle was the primary way you thought you'd die. Or at the end of a High Lord's magic for being too much of an advisor. Smiling at the memory of putting Tamlin in his place, you gave another tug down the bonds to your mates. And like a snap, they both tugged back. Almost in unison. It was hard to tell. You closed your eyes, listening to the soft waves below. They lulled you into a cold sleep yet again.  + Despite the cold, the Illyrians flew as fast as they could. They could sense your light fading, and chased it for mile after mile. Their wings cut through the harsh winter winds, fueled by rage and desperation. Then they spotted the dark figure frozen to the snow below. Cassian landed first, a few feet away. The ice cracked beneath him. "Get us out of here." He growled to Azriel.  "We need to make sure she's okay before we move."  Cassian growled, but didn't protest. Azriel understood. He felt the anguish and frustration through the shared bond. Az's hands pressed gently to your neck, checking your pulse. He swore. "Baby, we need you to wake up for us. We're here. We got you." Cassian put a hand to your cheek and fought back the tears that threatened.  You groaned in response. They both sighed in relief, their breath making clouds in front of them. "I'm stuck..." You managed through your stiff jaw.  Cassian stroked a thumb over your cheek. "Stuck? Honey you're-"  "Cas..." Azriel nodded to your side, to the ice that crept its way up your damp clothes. Azriel could have taken a very very long time torturing the beasts that did this to his mate. The rage coiled in his gut at the sight of your injuries. The only reason you hadn't bled out was the blood and water mix turning your wounds to ice.  Cassian pulled at the ice web that encapsulated you. Under the heat of his rage it broke, and broke and broke. Azriel placed small patches of his shield over your frostbitten fingers. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just stay still." Azriel smoothed back your hair, and darkness swirled over you. The change from the harsh overcast light of Winter court to the soft sun of Night court was jarring.  Madja put her hands on you and you were asleep in an instant. Her warm hands were a blessing from the Mother.  +  "She's lucky she has that Winter blood in her or she'd be dead." Madja wiped her hands off and handed both the Illyrians a small vial. "That is the scrap from a poisoned sword that broke off in her shoulder. I got all the pieces out, but the poison lingers. It may heal slowly, but it should get better."  Anguish burned both of their stomachs. Azriel's throat tightened and he looked away, but gripped the vial tightly. Cassian stared at it, his eyes murderous. Madja left without another word. "She was almost killed. And we couldn't do anything." Cassians' voice was low, with violence dripping from it. "We need her here. In Velaris where we can... watch her." He didn't know what he was saying, but the instinct to protect was overriding every other logical thought he had. Anger burned and burned in his stomach, swallowing him with rage. He could feel Az mirroring the same feeling, but with a cold deadliness that begged to simmer out of him.  "You know she wont go for that. She loves her home too much. Her brother." Azriel whispered back. "We're her mates. She should be with us." Cassian was looking for a fight. All the tension and anger of the day had to be worked out. Azriel felt it too. His shadows ran anxiously through the room.

The wind outside howled. It shifted the dark clouds that covered the moon. It seemed to be a cold day in all of Prythian. A cold day in your mates hearts to the pirates that had taken you. They spoke their rage mind to mind, imagining the ways to torture the bastards. 

How to find them would be the first priority. Azriel kept circling back to that part. + The healer cleared his throat at the door. "She's asking for you." He nodded to Rhys' brothers. They left Rhys behind in unison, walking in perfect step with each other. Their minds hummed together over that bond they shared with you. "Protect protect protect." They both seemed to demand.  Azriel knocked softly, his heart flipping when he heard your voice again. "Get in here." You demanded, giving them a broad smile when they practically shoved each other out of the way. 

"Come keep me warm." You weakly folded the blanket back, exposing some of the bruising on your skin. 

They complied with enthusiasm. Azriel's hands were cold at first, but they got better when he reached around you to hold Cassian closer. They worked in tandem to keep you covered, making sure that you weren't too crowded or too warm. Azriel summoned his cool shadows when you got too warm and had to kick the blankets off. Cassian's warm breath would keep you warm when they became too much. You traced Azriel's cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw while falling alseep. Cassian's muscled forearms hugging you from behind were like a heavy pillow. 

"Rest now, we can have more fun later." Az winked, making your stomach flutter. Cassian groaned and pulled you further to his lap. You tried not to think of the hardness that pressed to you now.  "Goodnight." The shadowsinger kissed your forehead and like a light, you were out. Finally resting peacefully wrapped between your two mates and their warm bond you all shared. 

[yemilnisu]

INCORRECT HAIKYUU QUOTES FROM BUZZFEED UNSOLVED

nisu entries:

i got this idea from @memekingofwwiii and some of it are theirs 🙇🏻‍♀️ thank you for letting me add it here 😊 it’s a mixture from buzzfeed unsolved supernatural and true crime 👀 i really had fun doing this!

warning: swearing, mentions of death/murder/killing/blood/weed

「part 2」

Tendou: i did have a neighbor who had an overhang of a lime tree, and it was great because i could go pick a little lime.

Ushijima: did you ever think about killing your neighbor?

Tendou: when he didn't give me limes, yeah.

Ushijima: oh, okay; all right.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: this is my bridge now, if you want it back you’re gonna have to kill me.

Oikawa: he did throw someone off the bridge once.

Matsukawa: fuck you, goatman!

Oikawa: Jesus Christ.

Kunimi: *behind the camera snickering as mattsun taunts the goatman much to oikawa’s dismay*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: hey demons, it’s me, ya boi.

Matsukawa: if you want to eat my heart, turn that light on. If you want to eat oikawa’s heart, turn that light on...

Oikawa: don’t drag me into your shit, mattsun.

*torch turns on*

Oikawa: *screams*

Matsukawa: *laughs hysterically as he continues to lie on the pentagram*

Kunimi: *actual wheezing*

Matsukawa: i think this demon’s a wimp.

Oikawa: he’s out of his fucking mind.

Kunimi: *having the time of his life*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Oikawa: every human's capable of murder if you push them enough. i just don't know if this is enough of a push.

Iwaizumi: okay.

Oikawa: it's true!

Iwaizumi: is that so?

Oikawa: yeah.

Oikawa: i bet you you would murder me if I pushed you enough.

Iwaizumi: yeah, probably.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: …

Tsukishima: so, you're telling me, at nine years old, you don’t go to church. the first time you cross the threshold into holy ground,

Nishinoya: *makes noise and imitates blood coming out of his nose*

Tsukishima: blood expels from your nostrils?

Nishinoya: yeah, yeah. they ran outta tissues! mopping that up.

Tsukishima: …

Nishinoya: it was wild!

Tsukishima: it sounds wild.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: i think it was the neighbor. look, i’m a simple man. i see a trail of blood going to someone's house. even if they didn't do it, come on; you're going to jail.

Kenma: i think it might've been a random person.

Kuroo: all right.

Kenma: it just seems too obvious.

Kuroo: okay.

Kenma: there's a paper trail of their feud. why the hell would he be that dumb?

Kuroo: rage, you know? lust, rage. rage just- just building up, bursting out.

Kenma: well, i've never really gotten that angry. i don't really have that capacity.

Kuroo: it's building. it's building inside you. everyone sees it; we all see it.

Kenma: that's great. oh man, i can't wait for krakatoa then.

Kuroo: *shuddering* oh- oh- i shudder.

Kenma: hope no one's in the way 😺

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: scary.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Daichi: he allegedly chased his mother with an axe when he was 19.

Asahi: not great.

Daichi: (wheeze) no? not off- off to a bad start?

Asahi: no good. i’ve never done that. you didn’t do that did you?

Daichi: no! i didn't- what- is there anything to suggest that I would chase my mom with an axe?

Asahi: (inhales) not outright i feel like if you peel the layers back.

Daichi: you think if you peel the layers back from this onion, you'll see something you don’t want to see?

Asahi: yeah. i think you wear a mask sometimes 😅

Daichi: mm-hmm i think you should keep digging and maybe see what happens 🙂

Asahi: uh no i'm good 🧍🏻‍♂️

Daichi: *staring at asahi*

Asahi: 👁👄👁💧

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: my takeaway is people from chicago are weird.

Atsumu: the- this does not represent chicago. this is people and go "ey! chicago tylenol murders"

Osamu: (laugh) home with the beam, the cubs and the chicago tylenol murders and of course our nation's greatest tragedy, miya atsumu.

Atsumu: that- that's not me.

Osamu: i read it somewhere 🤷🏻

Atsumu: no, you didn’t, you probably wrote it.

Osamu: yeah.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suna: i’d love to be an heiress.

Kita: (snickers)

Suna: i know she’s probably gonna disappear or something.

Kita: so you wanna be a trust fund baby?

Suna: i’d like someone to give me a lot of money for doing nothing. but i want-

Kita: and then you wanna disappear?

Suna: yes. i want to get a lot of money and then vanish from the face of the earth.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ennoshita: her family believed that when she left at 11:30 am, she had as much as $30 in her purse, which in today’s dollars would be more than $750.

Nishinoya: holy moly!

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche—

Nishinoya: yeah.

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche.

Nishinoya: thirty bucks going that far in 1910.

Tanaka: i don’t even have $750 in my bank account.

Nishinoya: i’ve never had $750 in my pocket! i rarely have had $30 in my pocket.

Ennoshita: well i don’t really carry cash anymore-

Nishinoya & Tanaka: who does!?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yaku: stop number one, mothman statue.

Lev: it looks very ornate.

Yaku: *shocked that lev knows that word*

Yaku: you’ll be able to stare at it eye to eye.

Lev: what’s that supposed to mean?

Yaku: it means you’re eight feet tall, it’s a tall joke. get it?

Lev: 🧍🏼

Yaku: 🤦🏼‍♂️

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: any... any thought in that so far?

Bokuto: (fart sound) nope. what year is it, ‘66?

Akaashi: ‘66.

Bokuto: few teens out there probably smoking a few funny cigarettes.

Akaashi: you could say weed. it’s 2018.

Bokuto: ...some grass.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kageyama: so my guess is the couples were somewhere around here, maybe on that road over there.

Hinata: yeah.

Kageyama: and i'm not sure of the exact location but this is where they saw him stumbling around.

Hinata: they just… saw him kinda shambling?

Kageyama: yeah.

Hinata: big shambling man. kinda *shuffling his body*

Kageyama: i- i don’t know, maybe he was just taking a walk, i mean, what's it to you?

Hinata: why would you take a walk if you had wings?

Kageyama: he's a fucking creature, he can do what he wants.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: but all im saying is that what you need to gather from this is that he has an effect on people's psyche.

Lev: this mothman's a complicated character.

Kuroo: what does he sound like? what does he sound like?

Lev: he sound like the blood bird.

Kuroo: …

Lev: flappy spookster.

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: that's- come on.

Kuroo: *glances over to lev's notes*

Lev: the winged wretch. did i already say that?

Kuroo: this just says fright terror.

Kuroo: *throws away the notes*

Lev: you know, just call him batman, why is that hard? 😩

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(howling)

Goshiki: what the fuck.

Shirabu: well those are coyotes… or dogs. Or a large pack of something.

Goshiki: holy shit.

Shirabu: just some coyotes.

Goshiki: are you not fucking alarmed right now?

Shirabu: are you scared? (laugh)

Goshiki: dude wait- this goes beyond belief, that was a pack of, whatever the fuck that was.

Shirabu: it was coyotes!

Goshiki: is that our cue to leave? i think maybe. we've been out here for quite a bit.

Shirabu: yeah, i don’t know if were gonna find anything tonight.

Goshiki: i don’t wanna be in the mouth of some coyote later, that's not how i want the picture wrap on old tsutomu to be.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Atsumu: air force one? they filmed air force one here?

Atsumu: air force one actually, now that i think of it, remember the reason they hijacked the plane is to release for the-

Sakusa: i’m gonna go ahead and cut you off right there 'cause i don’t give a shit.

Sakusa: we’re gonna move over here.

Atsumu: …okay.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kai: four people in a cell, that's a lot

Kuroo: i mean, you put any normal people in a room that's too small. like if you’re in a dorm in college, if you hate your roommate…

Kai: it's tough business

Kuroo: listening to music too loud when i'm trying to study

Kai: hwfrrrrr…

Kuroo: cookin' uhh… top ramen in the microwave when i'm trying to sleep

Kai: you got some axes to grind?

Kuroo: no.

Kai: oh

Kuroo: fuck you, daishou.

Kai: daishou?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(distant thud)

Yamamoto: what the fuck?

Kenma: :3

Yamamoto: is all i have to say to that.

Kenma: they didn’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: you didn't like the thumb talk? was it too much thumb talk? i thought we went about two minutes long on the-

(distant thud)

Kenma: they don’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: *looking around in shock*

Kenma: *stopping himself from laughing*

Yamamoto: uhhhh… holy fuck. holy fuck, holy fuck. if you’re one of the people that had that thumb thing to happen to you, that sucks. what was it like?

Kenma: what do you think you're gonna get right now? 😑

Yamamoto: i feel like we should go see what that is, to be honest.

Kenma: *shakes his head*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: we’re walking over to the source of the disturbance.

Hinata: hello? (sigh) i’m gonna lose my mind. so, it did that twice within the span of 10 seconds but nothing else?

Tsukishima: but, we can confirm that it did sound like this right? *slams the cabinet door*

Hinata: yeah.

Tsukishima: that was the sound.

Hinata: do you think the wind’s gonna do that twice?

Tsukishima: *blows on the cabinet door*

Tsukishima: not moving 🙄

Hinata: well, shit.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sugawara: oh there it is. it’s that. *pointing to where the sound was coming from*

Asahi: what?

Sugawara: there’s a logical explanation for you.

Asahi: ah! okay, there it is. well, there you go, there you go.

Sugawara: but, if we hadn’t seen that...

Asahi: if we hadn’t seen that we would be fooled 😅

Sugawara: no, we wouldn’t have been fooled. you would have been telling me for months.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

*inside the prisoners of ohio state penitentiary*

Kageyama: this is fucking terrible.

Tsukishima: it’s the opportunity of a lifetime to be here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tendou: i’m separating from the group.

Semi: it’s the ideal time to kill him.

Tendou: yeah i mean, if i were gonna die in camera it would be a pretty noble thing.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: I don’t understand what’s wrong with atsumu sometimes.

Atsumu: what was that?

Osamu: i didn’t say anything.

Atsumu: you sure you didn’t say anything, ‘samu?

Osamu: now go back and set ‘em off to make sure they work.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: *inhales*

Atsumu: *inhales*

Sakusa: you need to back up from me. i can feel your air intake. it’s like a gross nasal jet, i don’t know.

Atsumu: *takes a step towards sakusa*

Sakusa: uh no *takes a step backwards*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Futakuchi: latch yourself onto my soul, come back to hollywood with me, and destroy the lives of all my friends and coworkers.

Koganegawa: a little hard to follow, but i like where you’re going.

Futakuchi: kogane’s family has a little-

Koganegawa: ey! ey! do-! do-! don’t!

Futakuchi: -dog named mickey.

Koganegawa:*trying to stop futakuchi*

Futakuchi: real good. you wanted me to give it my all. i’m throwing stuff on the table.

Koganegawa: insults, not personal information. you’re giving him a dossier on my life!

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[danielxricciardo]

Can you do one with Max, with 46 and 55 from angst list?

Summary: You are suffering from depression and Max tries to be by your side

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of suicide, depression

Word count: 3.6k+

46. “I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

55. “You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay.”

Depression feels like a lot of things.

It feels like sadness, which is what everyone will tell you. It's a pretty common thread.

"I'm worthless."

"Everyone thinks I'm a horrible burden."

So on and so forth.

Everyone in the world is happy but you, and in the end, you are a worthless piece of shit that doesn't belong in this otherwise glorious and happy place. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you are lying there on your bed in the same unlaundered pair of pajamas, wondering why you are even allowed to keep living any longer. Some meteor strikes or lightning bolts should be reserved for people like you because you are taking up space and oxygen and food and other resources that real, happy, productive people need.

It feels like emptiness. You have all these possibilities and none of them seem interesting. You could do some art, or play some music, but that just doesn't feel right. There's no joy in it. You could have sex with your significant other, but you can't muster up the desire. You could play video games, or read a book. But what's the point? There's no real benefit to all of it but passing the time. You could get up and make lunch. But no, you're not that hungry, and if you close your eyes, time will pass a little faster. You can lie there. That works. It doesn't require active effort to do something fruitless. Everything is as empty and fruitless as lying and staring out your window at the clouds and the shifting shadows of tree branches, and so why do anything else?

It feels like fatigue. Standing up out of your bed requires the same amount of bodily effort as climbing several flights of stairs. Managing to get dressed and walk outside is like running a race. Heaven helps you if you try to go to the store or a friend's house -- that may as well be on the other side of the continent. Every step is heavy. Every muscle motion requires ten times the work it used to. Exercise becomes difficult, and control over your body expires quickly. You become clumsier, so heavy lifting is right out. You daze out randomly, daydreaming, even dozing, so biking or running is hard. You feel most at home when you are entirely relaxed, so you lie down...and don't get up again until something like your bladder compels you.

It feels like a loss of control. You have no idea why your brain and body are doing this. You don't want to feel sad. Nobody wants to feel shitty and tired and empty all the time. People will look at you and say, "It's like you don't want to get better." Those people are idiots. You truly, deeply, from the bottom of your soul, have no idea why this has happened or what to do. It's not logical. It makes no sense. You woke up like this, or it crept in overtime or something like that. It's like a fog, a force of nature that sweeps in, occludes everything, and there's not one thing you can do about it from where you stand. Trying feels like taking a paper fan outside and trying to blow away the morning mist. Someone has tied puppet strings to your brain and is playing this hideous dance with it, and you don't have the scissors to cut them away. The dance doesn't make sense; it's arbitrary and rhythmless. If you had any sort of reasoning behind it, you could take control. But you don't.

It feels like desperation. You can't find a way out. You lie there at night, keening into your pillow like a wounded animal, making all sorts of noises that no human being should be able to make. You claw and scratch at the sheets, or at yourself, as the pain wrings itself out through bodily expression. The tears won't stop. You don't know why. All you know is that it hurts, it really and truly hurts, and you think if it goes on any longer, you're going to die. Right there. Bleed out on the floor. So you grab up your phone, and you call someone at 4 AM, and you beg them to please just make it stop. You bury yourself in books and movies because at least then you can imagine something else than yourself. You read nonstop. You have to have your fix. It's like an addiction, no, more like a life support machine. Otherworlds, fantasies of happiness, and real experiences that aren't your horrible existence become the iron lung keeping air flowing in and out. You are alive because you can stop thinking for a while. Your friends come over to comfort you. Their stories keep you sane and well, like dialysis for all the toxins in you. Your mind has failed at being independent, and now it relies on a thousand little machines to keep itself running. You rely on one machine until another comes to save you. You read books until your friends come by. You stretch out your time with friends until you have to bury yourself in a movie again just to keep the thought of real-life away.

It feels like untamed anger. Your friends can't keep this up forever. You fall further and further, and you eventually start dropping commitments. You have become That Person, the flake that everyone knows will back out. People start getting annoyed at you, annoyed at how they have to spend so much time just keeping you afloat, annoyed at how often you're causing them trouble by constantly disappearing and backing out of appointments, and so on. Your workplace gets annoyed at your lack of productivity. And then you can't take it anymore, and you want to scream at them, grab them by the throat and shake them because IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! You start having twisted fantasies, the ones where you walk up to that person who keeps telling you he can't do this anymore, you're just too unreliable, putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger. Just to make him know, for once, that FUCK HIM, your problems are REAL, DAMMIT, REAL, and he better FUCKING RESPECT that. And when you're gone, he'll fall to his knees and cry, and he'll say, he wishes he had understood, that he didn't mean to be so unkind, and the scar on his heart from his own failure will remain fresh and knotted for eternity. And then you shake yourself out of the daydream, and you wonder why you have turned into such a horrible person, someone who even considers ending their own life just to spite another human being. Then it creeps back in, the knowledge that the world is getting fed up with you...and the cycle begins again. You start thriving off these daydreams, because at the very least if you can't be happy, you can throw caution to the wind and get the petty, oddly satisfying revenge buried under all those layers of morality that are becoming worn and flaking away. It's just a fantasy, right? And it helps pass the time...

It feels like forever. You have forgotten what it's like to truly be joyful. You can imagine it, but it's not really you in those thoughts. This is who you are. This is your life. This is you.

It feels like you have only one thing truly under your power: your existence. You cannot choose what life throws at you. Your brain and body have betrayed you. Your friends have worn away, and you've fled from your job and any commitments you have.

It feels empowering. You can jump whenever you want.

But he accepted you the way you are. He never reproached you for negatively influencing his mentality or life, even though you knew he felt it too. He always listened to you, he was with you even at 2 in the morning when you were crying on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest, and you knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right for him to go through, basically, what you were going through. But no matter how much you told him you could do it without his help, Max was coming back more insistently than ever.

He came up with the idea to start therapy. "You have to find out why you feel this way. Go at least once, see how it is, if you don't like it or feel that it doesn't help you, you will give up, okay?" That was a year and a half ago.

The psychologist gave you a diagnosis from the first session: Major Depressive Disorder. Sure you knew what the three words meant, but you didn't know what it meant to have a label on your condition.

"A major depressive disorder is characterized by one or more of these depressive episodes. the diagnosis of major depressive disorder requires depressed mood or anhedonia which is the loss of interest in pleasure and five or more signs or symptoms for the SIGECAPS mnemonic for a 2-week period. (SIGECAPS) Sleep Disturbance, loss of Interest, feeling Guilty, feeling fatigued and low in Energy, having decreased Concentration, decreased or increased Appetite and been agitated and slow and having Suicidal ideation."

It sounds incredible to you. Suicidal thoughts? Not everyone has a thought, somewhere, behind their mind 'What if I disappeared?'

You were prescribed Prozac and Zoloft and it helped. You weren't always sad anymore, you could go to the races with Max and support him as a normal girlfriend does. You apologized to my friends who tried to help me and whose lives you made impossible and you managed to get back to work, from home anyway. Sure, you still had moments when you felt like you weren't 100% yourself but not like before. You did therapy twice a week and the psychologist was happy with your evolution.

But being the stupid ass that you are, you stopped taking the medication. You took the last pill on Friday. Because you were fine. You felt ok, everyone around you told you you were better, you were doing amazing, so you were cured, right? Or so you thought. Saturday was normal. Sunday was not. Your mood and energy were very low. You woke up at like 2 in the afternoon. That is not unusual for you. You’re used to it. You were sad. You were exhausted. You knew that feeling like this was “no excuse” so you tried to force yourself to do it anyway. Typical of your life. You feel like you had already taken so much off work because of the triple-header, you were for three weeks attached to the hips with Max.

The only thing you thought of was dying. And that terrified you. And Max senses something was wrong. But he didn't want to tell something and ending up being wrong and you being upset by his misinterpretation. But, yes, he sensed that you were becoming your old self.

"Hey, babe," he snapped you out of your daydreaming. A tragic one, where you were finally at peace and Max was crying for you. You were on the verge of crying yourself at the mere image of Max in your head. But you pushed it far from your mind, somewhere in a dark corner for you to find it at an appropriate time to fantasize about your dying. "How about we go to a picnic? It's sunny outside."

Yes, the wheater was amazing. It was finally summer and you could go outside and spend some time with Max. But your brain literally is tricking you into thinking you don't deserve to enjoy the sunny day. Why? You don't have an answer.

"I'm not really in the mood, Max. Sorry."

You are not in the mood. That was his affirmation. You are not ok.

"You feeling good?"

"Yeah. Just tired I guess."

"But you just woke up."

You shrugged. He was right. You just woke up, so why do you feel like you were carrying a ton of bricks on your shoulders? You couldn't walk. You almost felt like 18 months ago. And that is when it hit you. And Max, at the same time.

"Still taking your meds, I hope."

Silence. Your mind was like overcrowded and you couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your head and pulled your hair because you wanted it to stop. You were thinking that you didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know how to think. You didn’t know how you felt. You were like anxious-depressed-angry-miserable-irritable all in one. Your head was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts were talking over thoughts. So fast that you couldn’t even make out one complete sentence. It was just too much for you to handle. You just wanted someone to kill you.

Max came to you and he hugged you so hard you thought he could crush your bones right there and then. You calmed down eventually. But now you were embarrassed. Because Max saw you, again, at your lowest. Because you promised you'll get better, and for a while, you were better, but now you are fucked and back into square one. All those money on therapy and your pills, for what? For you to stop taking them because you thought you were feeling better? Well, you definitely were not ok, nor you'll be. So, yeah, being fucked sounded good.

Max brought you the medicine and a glass of water. Taking the pills again? For what? The pills only fuel the feeling that everything is fine and that you are a normal person. Nothing was good and you were not a normal person.

But you took the pills. And you looked Max in the eyes and you wanted to die. He seemed crushed. He was sad, devastated, maybe angry but definitely disappointed. In you. Because maybe you don't realize this, but while you were doing good, he was doing great. He knew you could be on your own so he stopped worrying that much, and that could also be seen in his driving. He was winning more races, he was at his best and now he was at his lowest. Because you were at your lowest; co-dependency and shit.

"I'm sorry, baby. I thought I was doing well enough to stop taking the meds," you say in a broken voice but the tears are yet to appear. He stroked your hair and kissed you on your forehead.

"You should have told me. You don't have to go thru this alone. I am here."

"Yeah, you are here. But you don't have to be!" you snapped. Irritability, one thing your depression came with. "I am just a burden for you. And no, this does not come from the fact I stopped taking my pills. You took care of me like I was a child, and, fuck it, you don't deserve this."

"Stop talking like this, alright? If I would suffer from depression you would have done the same thing. You would have taken care of me. Or am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong. To be honest, I don't think I would be here if it wasn't for you, but I don't want you to be. It's obvious that I would never get better. This is me. I am fucked in the head, half wishing I was dead and I am just bringing you down."

"Don't tell me this is a fucking break up, Y/N." he narrows his brows and looks at your features to make sure you were being serious.

“I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

"What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a break-up or a suicidal vocal note?"

You broke down. Crying can be cathartic and healthy, but if it goes on too long it can lock your body in a feeling of despair. Even if your mind works through the problem that caused the crying, because your body is still feeling the physical effects it will cause your mind to revert to the negative state. It's not sadness. It's dread and paralysis. You had a certain feeling of emptiness and purposelessness.

“You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay,” you say between sobs.

"You want me to find you a reason to stay alive or to stay in this relationship? To be frank, I can name a thousand reasons, but it all depends on you."

Max hugs you from behind and you lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was stronger than ever. You allowed yourself to inhale Max's scent, a soothing scent you could get drunk on.

"I want to believe you love me. I mean, I love you and I consider you the love of my life, you know? We are so young and I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise you, I'm gonna marry you someday, even if right now you don't think you're gonna make it till tomorrow. So, yeah, this is reason number one," he said and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "This is not the worst you have been through in life. Remember where you were 18 months ago; you had no idea what was wrong with you. Now you know and you know you can be better. I know you get sick of those pills, but maybe, in the future, you won't need them. Isn't that exciting? This was reason number two," he said and pressed another kiss to your cheek. He was going to do that every time he would give you a reason. "Have you been to all the beautiful places around the world? Sure, you came to a few Grand Prix, but you never saw Great Ocean Road in Australia, you know Daniel promised he would take us there someday. You never saw Pamukkale in Turkey or Japan in Cherry Blossom season or the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. There are many places you need to visit, baby. So, yeah, this was reason number three. I don't know if you want me to continue but I can give you one more reason. Reason number four. Do it for you, baby. You deserve to live and be happy. I know you can be happy and I promise you I will do my best to help you. You just have to take it one step at a time. You just have to let me in. Let me help you, baby."

You turn around, facing him now. You loved him, with all of your heart. You love him for who he is. You love him because he literally came into your life as your lifeline. You love him because he helped you crawl up the deep bottomless abyss of depression. You love him because he had the patience and the audacity to bear with your depression, anxiety, and panic attacks, your phobias, your mood swings, your temperamental and short-tempered nature, your overthinking, your being overprotectiveness, and possessiveness. You love him because never once he thought of giving up on you in your hard times. You love him because he stands by you like a rock of unwavering support and he’s someone you can fall back on. You love him because he listens to you talking non-stop about your past, your pains, your fears, and your losses without complaining even once. You love him because he rediscovered you and helped you find yourself again when you were lost in darkness. You love him because he filled you with confidence and hope and strength and belief and determination. You love him because he believes you are the best when you set your mind on something and no one can stop you from achieving your goals. You love him because he is protective, caring, understanding, loving, and easy to be with while never being too suffocating or taking up your space. You love him because sooner or later he does everything you ask of him and does with his whole attention. You love him because whatever endeavor he engages in, he likes to give his 100% and hates doing half-hearted things. You love him because he can decode the nuances in your voice and judge your mood just perfectly. You love him because he read you like an open book and he can hear your silence. You love him because he never doubts your loyalty, your intentions, your hard work, and your million issues. You love him because no matter how busy he might get he never forgets that you are waiting for his message or his call. You love him because he keeps you in his priorities. You love him because he gave you a passion you never knew you had. You love him because he very strongly believes that you deserve the best of everything. You love him because he is empathic, kind, magnanimous, thoughtful, and down to Earth. You love him because he has eyes for no one but you. You love him because he wants to see you healthy, wealthy, prosperous, famous and he wants you to hold back at nothing, for no one, he wants you to be a Go-Getter. And most importantly you love him because no one ever loved you like he did.

"I will let you in," you say and you kiss him hard. "I'm sorry for the scene I caused."

"Don't be. It happens."

[eirikaanemo]

Can You Keep A Secret?

Warnings: imprisonment, mentions of starvation and sickness

Note: I haven't actually played Dvalin's quest but I tried to keep it as close to canon as possible. Feel free to leave a comment or message me if you see something wrong.

Venti x GN!Reader

1.9k Words

Your soulmate is secretly Barbatos... now what?

Everyone has a soulmate. And everyone is born knowing your soulmate's biggest secret. For most people it’s really unhelpful, but for some people it helps them find their soulmate. You’re in the latter group, because yours gives you a name.

You've known your whole life that your soulmate is secretly Barbatos. It's… interesting, to say the least. Of course you'd never dare to tell anyone. Thankfully, asking someone what their soulmate’s secret is isn’t very common. It’s considered to be very rude, so no one asks you what your secret is. They'd think you're crazy!

Barbatos hasn't been around for centuries and you're a mortal. This is the sort of thing you would read about in trashy romance novels! But even though it’s crazy and kind of overwhelming, you know it's true. You don't know if he'd ever accept you or want to be with you, in fact, you’re pretty sure he won’t, but you want to try.

Once that’s settled, you just have to find him. If he's anywhere, it's probably the city of Mondstadt. That’s where he seems to have shown up the most in the past, after all. So you move to Mondstadt. It’s a nice place and the people are friendly. Finding a job with the Knights of Favonius was fairly easy and it paid pretty well.

Unfortunately, the 'Storm-terror' problem starts shortly after you move. He throws the whole city into chaos the first time, and then proceeds to keep doing it regularly. The fear is all encompassing, but that's fine, you try to convince yourself. It will all be worth it when you find him. ‘If you find him’, your traitorous mind whispers.

It's been months, a year even, and you're starting to lose hope. How were you expecting to find Barbatos anyway? Shout from the rooftops for him to reveal himself and whisk you away? He hasn't been around for a long time and you knew that. And to be honest, at this point you've given up.

Going home is the logical thing to do, it’s where your family is after all. But you stay because you made yourself a home here. You have friends: Jean, Lisa, and Kaeya. You have come to love the city: music, freedom, and camaraderie. Well, you love the city except for the 'Storm-terror' attacks. Those aren't very lovable.

What concerns you the most though is that 'Storm-terror' is a dragon. And dragons trend to be important (like, archon important). But no one seems to remember this one. So you research. You visit the cathedral and speak with some nuns. You dedicate some time to listening to bard’s tales, asking them if they know any songs about dragons. One does, and it's surprisingly informational. You spend time at the library, pouring through book after book. And after all this investigation, you've come to the conclusion that 'Storm-terror' is actually Dvalin of the Four Winds. Not that anyone actually believes you

It didn't stop you from telling people your theory though, and being more respectful in how you refer to him, despite all the damage he's caused. Eventually they do start considering it and the city starts catching on. If you keep doing this, you may be able to change the city's perspective of and reaction to Dvalin.

The abyss mage catches on to this, and he just can't let that happen. It could compromise the whole plan. So one day he has Dvalin abduct you and locks you up. And true to your luck, this happens out of the blue while you’re taking a walk that you’d finally convinced Jean to go on with you. Which, of course, reverses all your progress and makes the situation even worse than it was before. Incidentally, this also does the exact opposite of what you’d been trying to do by stressing out poor Jean more.

The abyss mage doesn’t care about anything other than making sure you’re not able to go back to Mondstadt. The mage does not care about human necessities. Who cares if you die? Not him. He hates humans. It's kind of part of his job description.

Your prison is where Dvalin retreats to when not attacking. And the mage has to go report to someone else sometimes, giving you opportunities to speak with Dvalin. He never responds to you, but you can tell he eventually starts listening. You start by rambling about various subjects; then talking about how you know he's Dvalin, and that you're sorry he was being treated like he was, once you know he is listening. Because while you don’t know the whole situation, you know that he feels hurt by how humans have treated him.

After several days of talking to him, he slowly starts warming up to you. It’s a strange sort of bond that grows stronger as time goes on. He starts responding and the two of you actually have conversations instead of just you talking. Eventually you even mention how you know your soulmate is actually Barbatos and that you've kind of given up finding him.

He gives a thoughtful hum, lets you vent out your feelings, tries to think of an appropriate response, then allows you to drop the subject once you’ve worn yourself out emotionally. It’s becoming obvious that your health, physical, mental, and emotional, is degrading faster as time goes on.

One day Dvalin and the mage both disappear for longer than usual. After the mage makes sure you won’t be able to escape, of course. It’s not like you would’ve been able to leave anyway. At that point you’re not able to do much at all.

Little did you know that only Dvalin would be returning. They ended up facing the traveler and their companions in battle, and Dvalin was freed from the mage’s influence. The first thing Dvalin does is take them to help "the one decent human, that he actually cares about". You're in bad shape at this point, starving, sick, and weak. But you’re aware enough to hear Jean call your name and feel someone gather you in their arms before blacking out.

When you wake up you're at the cathedral and are feeling much better. Certainly you are not fully recovered, that will take weeks. That one bard who was able to play you a song about Dvalin is always there. You vaguely remember him being there when you were found. He doesn’t really interact with you much, he’s just kind of there, but he does play peaceful music that helps you fall asleep when you’re struggling to rest.

Then the day comes for you to go home. They’ve done all they can for you and you’re past the worst of it. But you’re well enough to be out and about. “Now you take care of yourself,” Barbara lectures you. “Don’t push yourself, get plenty of rest, drink lots of water, and eat three square meals a day, got it?”

“Got it,” you confirm. “Thank you for taking care of me, I really appreciate your help.” She smiles, wishes you well, and returns to the cathedral. You take a moment to breathe and just appreciate being back home, free of your prison and the small cathedral room they’d kept you in while treating you.

Taking a deep breathe you start on your way home. “Hey!” You hear someone exclaim behind you. “Could you hold on a second?” Turning around, you see the bard quickly excusing himself from a street performance before running to catch up to you. Once he’s caught up, he gives you a smile.

“Hi! I’m Venti the bard! Would you be willing to speak with me about something? It’s kind of private so we would need to go to windrise or something, but you’ll want to hear this, I promise.” He says. “Alright,” you agree, “but I can’t make it all the way to windrise. Would my home do? I live alone so we’ll have privacy.” He nods, “that’ll work great!”

The walk home is quiet but comfortable. The bard’s content to hum a tune as he follows you through the streets. Soon you’re home, unlocking the door to let you and your guest in. You lead him over to the couch where you both sit down. “So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

“Well, I was talking with Dvalin a day or so after we freed both of you and he said you mentioned you came to Mondstadt searching for your soulmate. And that you said your soulmate’s biggest secret, the one that you know, is that they’re Barbatos,” he explains. You feel a pang of betrayal at Dvalin’s actions and some guilt for sharing your soulmate’s secret in the first place.

It probably showed on your face because he quickly spoke up again. “He didn’t just tell me for no reason though. You see, I am Barbatos. I’m your soulmate.” Your head, which had been drooping with the weight of your emotions suddenly shot up as you fumbled for a response.

Apparently that showed too because he continued, “And I’m sorry I made it so hard for you to find me. I’m sorry I almost made you give up on me. Most of my waking time is spent incognito so I can watch over everyone while not being put in a position of authority. I didn’t anticipate meeting you ”

There’s a moment or two of silence as you gather your thoughts. “It’s okay,” you assure him. “I understand why you did what you did and I’ll never hold it against you. How were you supposed to know I was even born yet, not to mention that I’ve been in the area searching for you.”

You take another moment or two to gather your wits. “I will also understand if you don’t want to do anything about this,” you state. “I don’t want you to feel forced into having a relationship with me if you don’t want to. The last thing I’d want to do is be responsible for making you miserable. And that’s not to mention how you’re an archon and I’m just a mortal.”

Your talking speeds up as you start rambling, losing control of the conversation as you feel more and more nervous. Once you realize you’re rambling you shut your mouth with a click. “Sorry about that,” you mutter. “I do that sometimes when I’m nervous.”

When you chance a glance at him, he honestly looks a little offended but mostly just really sad. “Is- is that really what you think I think about this?” He asks softly. “Because it’s not. I absolutely want this. I absolutely want you. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for millenia and I wouldn’t give this up for the world.”

He reaches over and slowly, hesitantly, so as to give you time to escape if you want, gathers you into his arms. You realize that he’s the one who picked you up to bring you home. Your ear rests against his chest as lean against him, and his heart skips a beat as you gently grab one of his hands and kiss it. “I’m glad,” you breathe. “I’m glad too,” he voices softly.

You yawn, feeling the exhaustion from your journey home and the rest of the day hit you. He pulls you close and whispers in your ear, “Sleep well, my cecilia, I’ll be here when the sun comes up and when you wake up.” You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

[darthkruge]

Okay okay okay so imagine Reader is abducted by the separatists because she ( or nb reader ) is a very well loved member of the senate. So obviously Anakin goes to save her, but his idiot plan gets him captured as well so then it's up to Reader to talk her way out of this mess, get to her idiot boyfriend, free him and then both of them try to make it out alive. Bonus points for Obi-Wan looking very tired and sick of Anakin's ideas in the background. What do you think?

Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader ~ Rescue Operations?

Summary: After the Reader is captured by the Separatists, Anakin rushes to save her. When this doesn’t work out, the Reader has to get her and her boyfriend out of this mess. 

Warnings: Language, whump, one scene where the Reader gets beat up, Reader is a badass, Anakin is completely in love with his badass girlfriend and we love that for him

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Catherine, my love!! I’m sorry this took me so long, I have nothing to say for myself other than my poor organization skills. But I’m obsessed with this request, I hope I did it justice <3

gif credit (x)

You groaned as you opened your eyes and attempted to shake the drowsiness that seemed to cling to your very bones. You blinked, trying to get your bearings and remember what had happened. You were preparing for your speech at the Senate, trying to pass a peace treaty between the Republic and some smaller territories that were debating joining the fight against the Separatists. You’d been fighting for support for the treaty for months and you finally had the chance to give one last speech before the vote. 

You’d been pacing in your Coruscant apartment, practicing the speech for your boyfriend a million times. After you finished your recitation, you exited the room, needing to get your notes that you’d seemed to misplace. So you went into your office and… nothing.

Why couldn’t you remember after that?! You opened the door to your office, walked inside, and… 

You sighed as you came back to the present, leaning against the wall behind you and looking around. You were clearly in a cell of some sort and the Separatists were almost certainly behind this. You were still in your Senate attire, although it had been thoroughly scuffed up, and they’d taken your datapad and other communication devices. You felt around your boot and smiled. Your knife was still there. They must have assumed you wouldn’t be carrying a weapon to your speech and not done a thorough enough check. Whatever the reason, you were thanking the Maker it was still there. 

Back in Coruscant, Anakin was walking the Temple halls in a crazed state. When you didn’t show up for your speech, he immediately panicked. He knew how important this treaty was for you and the entire Republic; you’d been going over it for forever and there is no way you’d just blow it off without telling anyone. The rest of the Senate was also concerned. You’d grown up in one of the poorer districts and, thus, had a sense of relatability and humility that most were drawn to. Whether or not they agreed with your policies, almost everyone could understand that you always kept the interest of the people at the forefront of your mind. 

When Obi-Wan walked up to him with a ripped piece of your clothes and your scattered and crumpled notes, Anakin felt his heart drop. 

“It was the Separatists. They must have knocked her out in her office and escaped through the vents.”

Upon seeing his absolutely heartbroken expression, Obi-Wan added, “We’ll get her back, Anakin. I promise.”

Anakin could only nod, ideas for a plan to save you already running round his head. 

You’d been in this kriffing cell for four days now. Or maybe it was five? You were desperately trying to keep your wits about you but it was so hard; they brought you a tiny ration of food and water once a day and it was not near enough to keep your strength up. You’d spent your time trying to carve your way through the bars but your knife was no match and you quickly gave up, not wanting to dull the blade. You’d found a loose brick hidden around the floor and used the knife to cut it out, allowing you to hide your weapon under it on the off chance they searched you again. 

You tried to think of a plan to escape but they hadn’t even opened your door yet. There was no way you could get out by yourself and, until someone came in that you could attack, it was pointless to even try. They kept you in complete darkness and silence, no way to tell how much time had passed aside from the daily rations. You assumed you were on a Separatist base but that proved unhelpful; they were widespread and the cell held no defining features of climate or location. You had tried calling out to see if anyone else was around. Each time, you were met with your own echo. 

You stilled, hearing footsteps approach you. A Separatist guard opened your cell door, roughly pulling you out. You yelped, legs not cooperating after so long of sitting in the cramped cell. He led you into another room that was barely brighter than your own. Sizing up the guard, you felt fear creep in. No matter how hard you tried to banish your anxieties, knowing they’d only serve to lessen your already shaken focus, it was sometimes impossible. 

“Tell us which planets are deserting.” He commanded.

You met his stare evenly, refusing to let your fear betray you. There was absolutely no chance you’d tell him anything. As soon as the Separatists learned which planets were thinking about joining the Republic, they’d send armies to wipe them out immediately. You refused to let that happen.

“Fine. Be that way.” The man pulled his fist back and sent it into your cheek, the impact sending sparks of pain throughout your entire body. He brought his foot up, kicking you in the gut and you fell harshly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hair, hoisting up your body as if it were a ragdoll. You gathered your strength and spit in his face, enjoying the way his smug look disappeared. In retaliation, he slammed you into the wall, the impact making stars cloud your vision. 

The man released you and you fell, your consciousness already starting to detach from your body. You tried to reason with yourself, hoping logic would aid you. This is a trauma response. I’m not going to die. My body can take this. I will black out, but I will wake up again. They’re not going to kill me. They need me alive. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. Somehow, the hardest part is this was banishing the thoughts of that beautiful boy from your head. You knew that if you allowed yourself to think of him, to fathom how he would blame himself should this be your end, you would give in. 

Instead, you focussed on the physical pain you felt, on the rage you channeled to this guard. You hated how weak you felt, how exhausted you were. You allowed your mind to hone in on all the ways you could hurt this man, given you had your full strength. You let yourself hate yourself, appalled at how you couldn’t even fight back. With every punch he threw at you, you went further into your head, into the one place this man couldn’t touch. Eventually, your mind started spinning from dehydration, pain, and overexertion. All you could do was curl into a fetal position and hope it somehow stopped. 

“What do you mean you’re going to find her?” Obi-Wan said, running after Anakin.

“It’s been days, Obi-Wan, days. There are only so many Separatist bases in the galaxy and Y/N’s on one of them.”

“Anakin, don’t you think they’ve planned for a rescue mission?! This is Senator L/N we’re talking about! And they took her right before the vote, this was clearly a thought-out attack, stop acting like it’s simple!”

“It is simple! Those Separatist assholes have Y/N. And it’s been days. What if she thinks we forgot about her? What if she thinks we’ve given up? They could be doing fucking anything to her and I’m not going to let her stay there for another minute!”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan began but Anakin waved him off.

“I’m sorry, Master. But if the Council won’t do anything, I will.”

“Anakin, the Council is trying! They just don’t have enough troops right now to send a full rescue mission after one Senator. They just want a few more days, then some troops should be back from their missions and you can have your full battalion.” Obi-Wan took a breath and lowered his voice, empathy for his friend clear in his words. “I know you love her. I want her back, too, you know. I’ve grown quite fond of her; her friendship is quite dear to me. All I’m asking is you be careful and think this through.”

“Believe me, I have thought this through. I wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger, we both know that. And while a few days doesn’t seem like much to the Council, we’ve seen the harm these Separatists can inflict in far less. Listen, it might not be the strongest plan I’ve ever made but, if it’s between a semi-formed plan and none at all, the choice is already made.”

With that, Anakin jumped into his ship and took off into the night. Obi-Wan sighed, leaning his head into his palm. He knew how much you meant to him and he knew of Anakin’s frustration with the Council. They moved slowly, wanting to figure out every angle before jumping into a decision. While Anakin was a brilliant strategist, he tended to act impulsively when someone he loved was in danger. As Anakin traveled further and further from Coruscant, the older Jedi could only hope that the both of you returned home quickly and safely. 

Anakin looked at his ship’s display and cursed when he realized he was low on fuel. He’d been piloting for hours and there was still no sign of you. He was searching out for you with the Force and, still, nothing. Finally, he felt a faint energy pulse through the Force. He followed it to what was supposed to be an old abandoned Separatist base, concerned by how weak your lifeforce felt. 

He parked the ship and got out carefully, trying not to alert anyone to his presence. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it. He saw an open door and ran through it, relief blinding him as he felt your energy grow stronger with each step he took. He turned the corner and saw a crumpled body on the floor of a tiny cell.

No, Anakin thought, it can’t be her. 

Without thinking, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, wanting to use the light to discern if the figure was truly you. The noise bounced off the walls and startled you awake. He mentally cursed himself and instinctively turned off the saber, not missing the even louder noise it made with it turned off. He inwardly facepalmed, realizing if he hadn’t alerted the guards before, they sure as hell knew now. 

You blinked groggily, wincing at your immense injuries and bruises. You remembered passing out while that asshole beat you and now you-

Wait, You thought, is that a fucking lightsaber?

You knew you must have heard it wrong, there’s no way the Council would have approved a relief mission this quickly. Further, there is no way it would consist of just one Jedi. 

Suddenly, the lightsaber re-lit, illuminating your boyfriend’s face. His determined expression grew stronger as he noticed the 10 guards surrounding him and pointing their blasters directly at his head. You smiled. He could take out ten guards with his eyes closed. You called to him in shock, hardly believing your eyes. He looked at you and immediately widened his eyes as he saw a guard come up behind you and point a blaster directly at you from outside your cell. 

“Lightsaber on the floor, Jedi, or the girl dies.” The guard growled. 

He looked at you in anguish and you could tell he was already beating himself up for “messing up” your escape plan. You shook your head, hoping he understood your message: this isn’t your fault. 

“Anakin don’t-” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before his weapon was on the floor. He put his hands on his head. As they grabbed him, you stood in helpless silence as they threw him in the cell beside you. They locked the doors and, once again, you were in darkness. 

You desperately crawled to the edge of your cell, trying to reach out to him. He was doing the same and when you felt his fingertips against yours, you almost started sobbing. You weren’t alone anymore.

“You came for me.” Your voice was soft, disbelief lacing your words. 

“Of course I did, my love.”

Then, as if everything finally registered in your brain, you reached out and tried to slap his arm. “Anakin, what about the Council? They’ll kill you when they realize you went on a rescue mission, alone, and without approval! Ani, the only thing keeping me going in here was knowing that you were safe! And now you’ve gotten yourself thrown right next to me, no weapons, no light, no food, no water, no escape! What the fuck are we going to do?!”

Anakin had opened and closed his mouth multiple times throughout your speech, trying to find a way to plead his case but was left without one. 

“I just wanted to save you.” The grief in his voice made you sigh and take a step back. This was your Anakin you were talking about. Your safety was his priority, always. Besides, doing all this because he was afraid for you? You couldn’t possibly stay mad. You smiled, despite yourself. Anakin. You thought, slightly shaking your head. 

“Fuck, I love you. Is it selfish that there’s a small part of me that’s glad you’re here with me?” You said, breaking the silence. 

Anakin breathed out a sigh of relief, glad you weren’t upset with him anymore. “Not at all, my love. So long as it isn’t bad that my least favorite part of this is not being able to see or kiss you properly because of this damn darkness.”

You chuckled, lacing your fingers with his once again. “You wouldn’t want to see me right now.”

Anakin froze. “Y/N? What are you talking about?” His voice was serious, clipped. He knew you would try and make it seem less than it was. You winced, realizing there was no way to lie your way out of this one.

“Just what the Separatists would call aggressive negotiations, I presume.”

“How bad?”

“It’s fine, Ani, I promise. Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?”

Anakin took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Alright. But as soon as we get back you’re going to a medical droid.”

You groaned. “Anakin I hate-”

“I know you hate the medical droids. But that’s only because they always rat you out when you try and lie to me about the extensiveness of your injuries.”

“You lie about how bad your injuries are, too! Remember that one time you came back from Kamino?!”

Anakin laughed, despite himself. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You were literally bleeding from the head! And you said, and I quote, ‘it’s just a scratch’” Every time you thought back to that day, you were incredulous. 

“Alright, alright! Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“That’s my line!”

“Y/N,” He warned.

You smiled. Maker, you missed him. You honestly didn’t think that anyone else would have you laughing while you were beaten and captured. 

“Okay. What’s the plan?” Anakin said, back to the matter at hand.

You lowered your voice, leaning toward his cell so you could talk without being heard. “I snuck a knife in with me and I’ve been able to keep it a secret. Now that you’re here, it might actually come in handy. The problem was that I couldn’t stab anyone because no one would come into the cell. I need you to get them here. Push them against the side of your cell, the one closest to me, and I’ll stab them. Then while they’re hurt, you run out, unlatch my cell, and we’ll go.”

“I’m dating a fucking genius!” You could just about hear the smile in his voice. 

You smirked. All things considered, you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“When do you want to do this?”

“They bring daily food and water rations in the morning, I think? I can’t exactly tell what time it is, they’ve kept it so dark and isolated. Regardless, the next time they come by I need you to get them in here. They normally just leave the food outside and push it under the door.”

Anakin could hear the disorientation in your words and wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, to be able to hold you and reassure you that it would all be alright. 

“Okay, angel. Got it.”

“Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming to get me. It’s really good to hear your voice.”

“Always, my love.”

Both of you silenced when you heard those footsteps. You smiled for the first time as you heard them. We’re going to get out of here.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Y/N! This brick in here is loose!” Anakin announced loudly. You bit your cheek to suppress a smile as you watched Anakin catch the guard’s attention.

“What did you say, Jedi?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Anakin responded, dramatically feigning innocence. 

The guard huffed and you internally cheered as he roughly opened the door. He walked over to your boyfriend, keeping the blaster pointed at him. As soon as the guard’s attention shifted to the “loose” brick, Anakin used the force to knock the blaster out of his hand and push him against the wall of the cell where you slashed his Achilles tendons. 

The guard howled in pain and you knew you had to work quickly if you were to get out of here before the rest of the Separatists found you. Anakin fumbled with the latch on your cell, the immense darkness making it difficult. Finally, he got it open and ushered you out. The both of you took off in a run and he gripped your hand with his metal one as you did so. 

You immediately stopped as you felt his hand roughly pulled from yours. 

“We’ve got you now, Skywalker” The guard said.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You blinked, unsure what he was referring to. Then, you heard an object whipping through the air and on instinct shot your hand out, catching it. You ignited Anakin’s lightsaber that he had summoned to you with the Force, it’s signature buzz making you feel powerful beyond words. 

The light caught you off guard and you squinted until your eyes adjusted. You saw Anakin held back by two guards. Hearing faint footsteps, you took off in a run. Anakin ducked as you swung wildly, hitting and taking out both guards.

“You done holding us up?” You said, extending your hand toward him once more and passing him his lightsaber. 

Anakin smiled, accepting it. “My sincerest apologies.” 

You both ran, hand-in-hand, until you finally made it to the exit.

“What?” You said, as Anakin stopped abruptly and looked at you, panicked. 

“The ship! It’s out of fuel!”

“It’s what?!”

“I-” Anakin and you stared at each other, flickers of doubt coming into your gaze. You can’t believe that you’d been able to escape for nothing. 

“Anakin! Y/N!”

You whipped your head around at the sound and were met with another ship a few meters down, Obi-Wan piloting it.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?” You and Anakin looked at each other in shock before taking off in a sprint, one guard now close behind you. 

He started shooting and Anakin pulled out his lightsaber, deflecting some of the shots. As he focused on that, you pulled your knife back out of your boot and sent it flying into the guard’s chest, effectively stopping his pursuit. 

Anakin smirked at you, awestruck. You shrugged before jumping into the ship, extending your arm to Anakin and helping to pull him up with you. You entered and immediately leaned against the wall of the ship, relief coursing through you. You laughed and Anakin joined in. He immediately pulled you into him, kissing you hard. 

He broke away from the kiss, looking at you with adoration. “You are a fucking badass!! You’ve never even held a lightsaber and between that and your fucking tiny knife you took out four guards!! I didn’t even get any! I’m not going to lie, Y/N, I’m a bit jealous.”

You laughed, leaning into him but wincing. As the adrenaline wore off, your pain was suddenly quite palpable. He noticed and pulled back, scanning your face and body. 

His smile fell as the extent of your injuries sunk in. Your busted cheek, scratched face, and ripped clothing that exposed some of your many bruises across your torso and limbs were overwhelming. 

“You kids alright in there?” Obi-Wan said, walking in from the cockpit. His smile died on his face as well as he took in your form.

“I’m alright, guys. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You said dismissively.

“That doesn’t look like nothing!” Anakin shot back. 

Obi-Wan looked at you apologetically. “Anakin’s right, Y/N. Please, rest. We’ll be back to Coruscant soon.” 

Coruscant! The Senate! “My speech!! Fuck, I had to present my speech! I’ve been gone, what, a week? They’ve probably already voted, Kriff.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “They decided to suspend the vote until you were back, Senator. They truly care for you and your policies.”

Your heart swelled at Obi-Wan’s words. You looked into Anakin’s eyes and saw that he agreed with the statement full heartedly. He took your hand and gently ran his thumb up and down its back. 

“Rest, my love.” He whispered to you, coaxing you to lie down on the coach and pulling off his Jedi cloak. He wrapped it around you as a makeshift blanket, smiling as you pulled it closer to you and drifted off. 

Obi-Wan walked up to Anakin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s leave her be, okay?”

“I don’t want her to wake up when I’m not here.”

The elder Jedi nodded in understanding. “She’s exhausted, she won’t awaken until we get back to the temple, I assure you. And if she does, you’ll just be in the other room.”

Anakin looked at you once more before smoothing the hair back from your face and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. He let his palm run down your cheek before he finally pulled himself away and walked into the cockpit with Obi-Wan. 

“So, how did you plan pan out?”

Anakin looked at his former Master, unamused. “I think you already know. How’d you know to come get us, anyway?”

“Well, when you didn’t come back or even attempt to contact the Council for over a day I assumed something had happened. I tracked your ship.”

Anakin nodded. “If not for Y/N, we’d probably both be dead.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I heard! Four guards?! You’ve found yourself a good one.”

Anakin smiled. No words were needed, everyone knew that was completely and utterly true.

------

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[nejibaby]

Memories

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: There are a lot of terrible things that have happened to you as an Uchiha that you wanted to forget. But with Neji’s help, you’re able to move on and move along. Things have started getting better for you, however, once the Fourth Shinobi War was declared, time seemed to start running out.

Word Count: 2.1k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: I didn’t exactly follow the plot and somehow it turned so angsty 🙈 Please let me know your thoughts~

There are memories you hold so dear that you refuse to have them tainted no matter what. Most of those memories are of the times you spent playing or training with your brother Shishui, his best friend Itachi, and Itachi’s brother Sasuke. Those times were the golden days for you; the best of the best, if you may.

Conversely, there are also memories that you just wish would disappear. They’re the memories of incidents you wish didn’t happen at all. They’re the type of memories that you push at the back of your mind, because you believe that if you think about it or even spare a single second for it, then it’ll be more real. Because you’re in denial. You’re in denial not only about the death of Shisui, but also of the Uchiha clan.

But then there’s a single memory you have that always stands out. It’s a memory that you both want to forget and remember.

The tragedy of the Uchiha clan had changed the only survivors — you and Sasuke. You had already started changing a little because you had to deal with your brother’s death, but seeing the horrible scene in the clan’s district had been the icing on top.

Your drastic change had been evident on the day you came back to the Academy after you were discharged at the hospital. What once was a girl full of life had become an empty shell.

The moment you sat down entered the room, people had started talking. Mostly it’s just about asking someone else if you were an Uchiha or if they know about the clan’s misfortune. They were meaningless chatters so you easily drowned them out.

But there was a comment that had reached your ears. “Why is it such a big deal? People die anyway, it just so happened her clan died on the same day.”

The comment kept ringing inside your head but then someone beside you spoke up, “Don’t you have anything else better to do than talk about someone else’s life?”

He was met with silence so he continued saying, “People die everyday, it’s a fact. Some die because of illnesses, some because of old age, some because of poverty, accidents, or murder. As shinobi, we can die in the line of duty. But that doesn’t make death any less painful to the one left behind.

“If your family is alive, then good, but maybe use that brain of yours because logic says not everyone gets to be as lucky as you.”

Naturally, you want to forget about the unsolicited comment of your classmate, but you want to remember that among the students inside the room, one boy had stood up for you. Quite frankly, you needed his saving that day. Otherwise, you would’ve beaten yourself up for mourning too long.

And when you realized who that boy was, his words weighed even more. Because Hyuga Neji was a boy notoriously known for thinking that everyone’s fate is predetermined from birth and that luck plays absolutely no part in it.

“Not everyone gets to be as lucky as you.”

And for a hot minute he had abandoned his belief as he stood up for you.

It sounds hypocritical if you think about it.

But maybe just as he had saved you, you had opened his eyes just a little bit and helped him see that his beliefs were skewed too. In a way, you had helped each other, at least you hoped.

It’s because of that day, that memory, that you find yourself gravitating towards Neji.

It isn’t attraction at all at first, more like genuine curiosity about him and his life. But you didn’t get to know him further until the Chunin exams where he had disclosed the way of their clan. It’s at that time where you understood why he acts the way he acts.

You can’t help but wonder about how two clans with almost similar circumstances— both with kekkei genkai, both living in Konoha, both considered to be one of the strongest clans in the shinobi world— could have completely different ways of living. One clan is almost completely annihilated, while the other has slaves of their own blood. And if you’re being completely honest, you aren’t exactly sure which is better.

You have gotten the urge to talk to him after hearing his story, although you really didn’t know what to say. But then the chance never came up because of the chaos orchestrated by Orochimaru.

After the Chunin exams and the attack of Orochimaru, you hadn’t heard of Neji for a while since you’ve been tasked to help with the repairs of the village. And when you did hear about him, it was terrible, terrible news.

Sasuke left the village to seek power from the very person who just wrecked havoc in Konoha. His leaving alone left you in despair. What Itachi was to Shisui is exactly what Sasuke means to you, and him doing such a thing without even letting you know makes you feel like a failure both as a friend and as a family.

The news didn’t end there, however. Apparently the squad that Shikamaru had led to retrieve Sasuke had been severely injured and were on the brink of death — one of them being Neji.

You remember feeling guilt and regret burning your skin. You remember the shame of not being able to save Sasuke from the darkness and not being able to help the retrieval squad in any way. You blame yourself for the horrible things that happened.

Since then, you have made it a point to visit the squad in the hospital every day, making sure you apologize and thank them for their service. But admittedly, it’s Neji that you always stay with longer.

It’s not that you aren’t comfortable with the others, they’re really nice and easy to get along with. But they always have other visitors with them, mostly their team members and relatives. Neji, on the other hand, didn’t get as many visits since his other teammate, Rock Lee, was also injured because of his fight with Gaara. So Tenten and Guy sensei would switch visits between the two every other day.

Besides that, his clan members rarely ever visited. And you didn’t want him to be alone in such trying moments, especially when you didn’t get to do anything to prevent this from happening.

As closed off as Neji is, because of your constant visits, you have found a way to worm yourself into the walls he put up. And by the time he’s discharged from the hospital, you somehow became close friends.

From that moment on, you find yourself coming to Neji on times that you’re in despair and in doubt. You trust him enough to tell him your stories, worries, and fears because he doesn’t judge you. And he does the same with you.

Neji listens when you want him to listen, and talks when you need him to talk. He’s quite level headed and very much rational, and because of that he gives the best advice.

With him, you find yourself healing and growing. With you, he finds himself learning to forgive.

Neji easily makes you see things in a different way; a different light; a different perspective, and helps you become a better shinobi and a better person in general.

For you, Neji has such a comforting aura. While he’s sometimes cold and stoic around others, with you, he softens up. With you, he’s gentle; careful even. And it’s because of this that you find yourself admiring him more and more.

But before anything could happen — before you could even confess — the Fourth Shinobi War was declared.

Just like that, time seemed to start running out. And you have lost all hopes of being together with Neji as a lover rather than a friend.

The war is awful. Quite frankly, it overwhelmed you too much, too easily. The bodies lying on the floor with dried out blood reminded you of the massacre of the Uchiha clan. But the only person who’s able to calm you down and help you move along is Neji.

The both of you fight side by side, always nearby Hinata in case she would need help. When the night comes and the enemies cease their attack, it’s your turn to talk Neji into relaxing a bit because he’s started straining his eyes from too much use. And because it’s you who asked and it’s you who’s there with him, he knows he and the rest of the Allied Forces are safe, so he rests.

But somehow chaos ensues and in the middle of it, you both get separated. You’re worried deeply, but you trust his skills and his strength, and you know you’ll be reuniting with him again.

And reunited with him you did. But when you have found him once again, he’s blocking out the Ten Tails’ attack with... his body.

With desperation, you transported to his side as quickly as you can. Summoning your last bits of chakra, you use Susanoo to protect him, Hinata, and Naruto. The last thing you remember is the look of relief on Neji’s face, but before it could morph into worry, you have already blacked out.

By the time you have woken up, you’re in Konoha’s hospital. The first thing you see is Neji resting his head on the side of your bed, peacefully sleeping, looking as angelic as ever.

Your body aches with every breath you take, even more so with little movement. But you didn’t let that deter you from weaving your fingers along the Hyuga’s hair. He stirs almost immediately and then he opens his pretty eyes. He sits up upon seeing you.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You softly ask.

He doesn’t respond to your question. “You’re awake,” he sighs in relief. “You’re finally awake. Let me go call Lady Tsunade and Sakura.” He stands up.

But before he can even take a step, you grab his wrist. “Stay,” you mumble.

Neji looks at you, reading your face. But then he nods and sits.

“Is it over?” You ask.

“Yes, the war’s over.”

“What happened after?”

“It’s a long story… but tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine. My body aches, but it’s not a big deal.”

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal?!” Neji looks upset that it takes you by surprise. “Do you remember what happened? Didn’t you know you almost died?! You almost used up all your chakra to use Susanoo! That’s so stupid and reckless!”

His aggressive tone effectively gets you angry. “I did it for you!” You snap. “Of course I remember what happened! Even if I want to forget, the memory is branded in my mind! You fucking wanted to use your body to shield Naruto from that attack, didn’t you? How is that not stupid and reckless? Huh?”

Neji’s chakra flares up as he clenches his jaw. Yet, he doesn’t speak.

You breathe out, trying to calm down. You rarely ever fought with Neji and he’s never really raised his voice to you. With your body still tired and aching from the war, you didn’t want this conversation to escalate further so you try to diffuse the situation before it blows even more out of proportion.

In a low voice, you speak, “I was so scared, Neji. I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved.”

A tear falls down from your eye and Neji’s heart breaks at your forlorn state. “I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t…” you squeak. “I love you so much, I can’t lose you.”

Neji’s breath hitches at your declaration. He could hear his heart drumming against his chest.

You love him?

He doesn’t know if he heard you right or if his mind is just playing tricks on him. It happened before. He’s loved you for so long… and there have been plenty of days he dreamt of hearing you say you love him too. And right now he isn’t sure if this is the reality or just another one of his dreams.

As if you’ve read his mind — like you always seem to be able to do — you repeat your words. “I love you, Neji.”

It’s the confirmation that he needs. And hearing your words knocked the wind out of him. “I… I…” he starts saying.

But you’ve taken his stuttering and his pale, panic-stricken face as a sign of an incoming rejection, so you look down instantly and say, “It’s fine if you don’t like me the same way. I just hope we can still be friends after—”

“No, I… I love you too,” he breathlessly confesses before you even finish your rambling.

Your head whips up after the words left his lips. You stare at him, unbelieving.

And just as you did a while ago, he repeats his words with conviction, “I love you too.”

A smile makes its way to your face, and when he smiles back, you immediately know this is a memory you won’t ever forget.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Already Gone

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 3477

Part One of Two

Summary: With a relationship interfering with your dangerous job, you force yourself to break things off with your boyfriend. Reid tries to maintain a professional relationship, but can’t deny his heart break. Inspired by Already Gone, a cover by Sleeping at Last. 

Notes: Welp. I can’t resist putting my boys through as much pain as possible and Spencer is no exception. I was actually inspired by a pair of imagines I did for Bellamy Blake a couple of years ago, so I recommend checking those out as well. As always, let me know what you think and what you look forward for in part two!

Warnings: Plenty of angst and violence

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

It never would have worked out right

We were never meant for do or die

You had finally let it happen. You’d let your feelings cloud your judgement and nearly got a hostage killed. Throwing your badge down on your desk, you hunched over it, hands gripping the wooden edge and breathing heavily. You wanted to break something, anything, but most of all you wanted to punch the wall until your knuckles split. 

The rest of the team walked by your desk silently. They each knew you were beating yourself up, but they collectively decided it’d be best to let you cool off before anybody said anything. Even Hotch just gave you a reassuring nod and went to his office to fill out paperwork. While the group all moved on, one person remained. The one person you couldn’t look at right now. 

“Not now, Reid.” You snapped, jerking your head up to see his concerned eyes. You had hoped that your aggressive tone would make him steer clear, but he stood his ground. 

“You know what happened wasn’t your fault-”

“Don’t you start on me too.” You fell back into your chair, wanting to just disappear into the floor. 

“Can we at least talk?” Spencer’s quiet and hurt voice was breaking you and you just wanted to shut it out. You buried your face in your hands and felt his hand on your shoulder. You melted into his touch, your body giving in while your heart still ached over your mistake. You knew what you had to do. It was the only way to ensure nothing like today ever happened again. 

“Yeah, let’s go talk.” You said suddenly, heading to the elevator. Spencer followed you hesitantly, his face still painted with worry and confusion. As soon as the doors closed, he spoke. 

“I understand that you are upset about how things happened, but we still saved a young girl today.”

“No, Prentiss saved that girl. I almost let her die.” The elevator started its descent and you felt your body pulling you down with it. The weight on your chest was crushing you and while part of you knew that Spencer was the only one that could lift it off of you, you couldn’t afford to be that selfish anymore. 

“Y/N, that wasn’t your fault.” He reached out for you, but you pulled away. You kept your eyes forward, avoiding the wounded look in his eyes. 

“Yes. It was. Reid, the unsub got to me by using you.” 

“W-what do you mean?” His eyes widened. 

“He could tell that we’re together. Somehow, he knew and he used that against me. He told me everything he would do to you and I almost killed him.” You balled your fists at your sides, your mind running through everything that psycho had threatened to do to Spencer. “I almost killed him and lost that little girl because I couldn’t control myself. If Prentiss hadn’t found her in time…” 

“Y/N,” This time, when he grabbed your hands, you didn’t back away. He brought them up to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles- bruised from your struggle with the unsub, “it was one mistake. You hesitated. Agents hesitate all the time when they’re in a situation like that.”

“Not us, Reid. Not me.” You started to pull away, but his hands gripped yours. He wasn’t rough, but it was enough to keep you in place. 

“That’s another thing,” He started, his voice sounding more hurt than before, “why do you keep calling me Reid?” He was right. Like J.J., you always called him Spence, or Spencer, even before you’d started seeing each other. You never called him Reid like the rest of the team. Spencer let go of your hands so he could put a hand on your cheek. “Something else is wrong.”

“Yeah, Spence, it is.” You resisted the urge to lean into his touch. Instead, you stepped away from it. “We can’t do this anymore.” You kept your expression cold and collected, even if you were shattered within. Spencer’s face fell, eyes filling with even more confusion and pain. 

“What?”

“Come on, Reid. We were kidding ourselves into thinking this would work. There’s a reason team members aren’t supposed to hook up.”

“We aren’t just ‘hooking up’, Y/N. We understand each other and-and we make each other better at our job, not worse. We’ve made it work. That doesn’t have to change.” 

“You’re supposed to be the logical one, right?” You snapped. “Tell me the logic in us staying together.” He had tears in his eyes now and you had to fight to hold your guard up. 

“I love you.” He said softly. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. He just kept looking at you in that way that made you want to hold him and say you were sorry. But you couldn’t. Not this time. “Logic isn’t a part of it.” 

“That’s the problem.” You put as much anger into your words as you could. It was the final piece for him and a tear escaped onto his cheek. You tore your eyes away, looking down at the pavement. “I have paperwork to do.” 

You kept yourself from all out running until you got inside. You didn’t have the patients for the elevator, so you just sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time and tripping more than once. You kept a straight face until you closed the door to Garcia’s office. 

“Hey girl, what’s-” She started, but immediately stopped when you threw your arms around her and started to sob. 

-

I want you to know, that it doesn’t matter

Where we take this road

But someone’s gotta go

You were never sure if he was looking at you because you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You’d spent the weekend at Penelope’s house, bawling and convincing yourself that you did the right thing because you knew that even one moment of hesitation, and you would be at his apartment begging him to forgive you. 

Sensing the tension at the table, Morgan and Prentiss exchanged an uncomfortable look. Hotch had called you in on another case, but Rossi was stuck in traffic so you were forced to wait in a painfully awkward silence. 

“Jeez, kid, what’s going on with you?” Morgan looked at Reid, trying to get a read of what might be bothering him. 

“Nothing’s going on with me.” He replied coolly, keeping his gaze on the smooth surface of the desk. You felt Morgan’s inquiring stare turn to you, but you kept your eyes forward, desperately hoping Rossi would get there soon. 

“Sorry I’m late,” He entered the room with a scowl and took a seat with the rest of the team. “Damn roadwork.” 

“Alright, everyone,” J.J. began, passing out the files as she went around the table. Her hand briefly grazed your shoulder in a sign of sympathy. Somehow, she always knew. “Local authorities in Maine found the bodies of two women who had been reported missing two weeks ago. Their wrists showed signs of being bound, probably with duct tape, and they suffered multiple wounds to the chest. The M.E. thinks it was an arrow.”

“Bow hunting?” Prentiss suggested. 

“They said from the looks of the injuries, the arrow had to have been shot from a distance, so hunting is a possibility.” 

“Why shoot them more than once?” Morgan wondered, taking a look at the crime scene photos. 

“There’s one more thing.” J.J. sighed, clicking to a new picture on the screen. It was a smiling woman holding a child. “Rachel Bratton, 32, was reported missing a week after the first two victims. Police didn’t find her with the others so-”

“The unsubs might be holding her somewhere.” Hotch finished grimly. “Alright, everyone. Let’s move. Plane leaves in fifteen minutes.” 

Everyone hurried to grab their things from their desks. You just wanted to get out of that room. Before you grabbed your bag, however, you heard a quiet voice. 

“You aren’t even going to talk to me?” Spencer wondered, his voice sounded soft and broken. “I thought we could at least be friends.” 

“Reid, don’t do this now.” You begged. If he kept this up, you would break too and you couldn’t afford for that to happen. His jaw clenched and he reached into his jacket pocket. 

“Here.” He held out a closed fist, slowly opening his fingers to reveal a small golden star. It was your favorite hair pin. “You left this at my apartment. I thought you might want it back.” You picked up the small metal clip, running your fingers along the points. 

“Spence…”

“I’ll see you on the plane.” He snapped, snatching up his own bag and heading out. You cursed to yourself, shoving the pin into your pocket and following the team out to go to the airport. 

You found a seat to yourself and focused on looking over the case files despite the aching feeling in your chest. By the time the plane was ready to take off, everyone had found places and a blonde-framed face appeared in front of you. 

“Alright, spill.” J.J. ordered, crossing her arms over her chest. You sighed, keeping your eyes on the M.E.’s report. 

“I’m fine, Jen.” 

“Come on, don’t give me that. You’re lucky I convinced Morgan to back off. He was ready for a full on interrogation.” 

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N, everybody knows something happened between you and Spence. You’ve been distant from everyone. He has been burying his head in books every spare second when he isn’t painfully looking at you.” She was blunt because it made you listen. “We’re worried.” 

“There’s nothing to be worried about. We got into a little fight. Friends fight.” 

“Just friends?” She raised a brow. She always knew. You leaned back in your seat, defeated. 

“We dated for a while, but it got in the way of work so I broke things off.” You finally admitted, trying to read her face for a reaction. “Happy?” She frowned sympathetically. 

“How long were you together?” She asked. Just thinking about it still stung. 

“Almost a year.” 

“And you two didn’t tell anyone this whole time?” She gasped. You shook your head. 

“We knew that Hotch wouldn’t approve.” You turned to the team as they got ready to make a plan. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.” Just saying the words made the lump in your throat bigger. 

Hotch briefed everyone on their focus and where each member would be headed. You would be meeting with the missing woman’s fiancé. Along with Reid. 

“Shouldn’t I go with Morgan and Rossi to the dump sight? I feel like I can be more helpful there than talking to the distressed fiancé.” Reid said, his gaze slipping in your direction. Hotch just blinked in annoyance. 

“If we can understand Rachel’s routine, we can figure out how and where she was abducted. I need you to work on the geological profile.” He said sternly. He wasn’t oblivious to the awkwardness on the plane, but it wasn’t remotely on his list of problems. Reid didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting. 

-

I didn’t come here to hurt you

Now I can’t stop

“I still feel like it’s my fault.” Brendon Nathonson sat with his head in his hands. “I was in a rush to get to work so I didn’t stop to see if she came back from her run that morning. I should have checked.”

“Does Rachel run every morning?” You asked, your tone sympathetic and soothing. You’d lost count of how many grieving or panicked loved-ones you’d spoken to over the years. It was one of the common parts of the job, but sitting next to Spencer made it feel different. Brendon nodded. 

“She was a track star in high school. Guess she never grew out of it, right?” He sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Do you have any idea where these psychos could be keeping her?”

“That’s actually what you might be able to help us with, Mr. Nathonson.” 

“What do you mean?”

“If we can figure out exactly where Rachel was taken, we can compare it to where the other two women were taken and found and possibly create a geological profile that could help us narrow down where the unsubs may operate out of.” Reid explained. The poor man still looked incredibly confused so you translated. 

“He means that these guys probably have an area that they’re comfortable working in, meaning both where they take their victims and where they may be keeping them.” 

“Oh god,” Brendon cried, covering his eyes with his hand. “You know, we kept pushing it back? The wedding. It was supposed to be in June, but then her sister couldn’t make it so we made it October, but then my best friend got sick. And now I might never get to marry her.” 

“We are going to do everything we can to bring Rachel home, Mr. Nathonson.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the presence beside you was making your heart beat out of your chest. 

“She’s my everything, you know?” Brendon finally looked up again. “When you lose that… it’s like losing a part of yourself.” 

When the interview was over, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Everything that Brendon Nathonson said was searing itself into your brain, echoing around and around like a bad song on repeat. You slammed the door of the main office, making sure no one was already in there. You pressed your forehead against the cool wood of the door, trying to calm yourself down. This was why you wanted to end things to begin with. You couldn’t control your emotions around him. Even now, despite the case, all you could think about was him and how much he hated you. 

A quiet knock startled you. You jumped back from the door, and forced yourself to calm down. Spencer slowly stepped inside, closing the door again behind him. 

“I saw you run in here.” He started softly. 

“I didn’t run.” You scoffed, more frustrated with yourself than anything else. “You probably need some time to do the geological profile. I’ll call Hotch and tell him what Nathonson said-” You started to leave, but his hand gently grabbed your arm. 

“Wait.” He pleaded, those perfect eyes staring deeply into yours. “Can we just talk?” 

“Spence…” You trailed off. Frankly, it’s all you had wanted to do. He at least deserved that. You blew out a heavy sigh and sat down. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to focus on this case because of all of this.” You ran a hand down your face.

“Neither have I.” Spencer sat down across from you, placing his hand on top of yours. “All I can think about is you.” Before, whenever he was with you, he thought clearer, focused more, and noticed every little detail of a case. Now, all he could think about was how much he missed you. 

“Once we get through this case, I promise that we’ll talk, okay?” There was so much you wanted to say right there, but you couldn’t find the words. I still love you was all that came to mind. Spencer nodded. 

“Then let’s make sure we solve this.” His awkward, crooked smile made you laugh and the two of you got to work trying to find Rachel Bratton.

-

You know that I love you so

I love you enough to let you go

The team circled the building, ready to go in. You were with Reid and Rossi, guns drawn as you went in the back door. It was an old meat processing plant that was located right in the middle of both the abduction and dump sights. Without Reid, you wouldn’t have been able to find it. You checked the back warehouse before moving onto another room, but not before you noticed something. A big metal door was cracked open just enough for you to get a peek inside. 

“Guys, over here.” You signaled, seeing Rachel Bratton sitting on the far side of a cage just inside the room.

“Please help me.” She begged. You tried to pry the door open more, but it wouldn’t budge. The opening was just wide enough that you could barely slide through, but you would have to take off your vest to fit. Before Rossi or Reid could say anything, you had undone the straps and were sliding through the narrow gap. 

“Is anybody in there with you?” You asked, still keeping your gun ready. Rachel shook her head. 

“No.” She gulped back a sob. “No, they went out that hatch.” 

“Y/N, maybe you should wait-”

“I’m fine, Reid.” You glanced back at him as you finally slipped into the room. “She said that they went outside. Let Hotch know.” 

Reluctantly, Reid followed Rossi back outside in pursuit of the killers. You made quick work of the lock on the cage and helped Rachel stand up. She collapsed against you, sobbing and thanking you over and over again. 

“Can you walk?” You asked gently. She nodded and you approached the hatch on the floor. Sure enough, it led down to the forest floor. You helped her down and kept your weapon out in front of you, keeping Rachel close behind. 

“Y/N!” Reid shouted, joining you again. Rossi flanked Rachel’s other side, keeping his eyes on the trees. 

“Have they found them?” You asked, afraid of the answer. Rossi shook his head. “Alright, we need to get back to the car so we can get Rachel to the hospital. Let’s move.” 

The four of you moved cautiously towards the front of the warehouse. The trees surrounding you rustled and groaned in the midwestern winds. You thought it was a trick of light at first, but when you saw the shining tip of an arrow, you aimed your weapon and fired. Mikah Roman tumbled across the forest floor towards you. Rachel screamed and latched onto Spencer. 

“Mikah Roman, you’re under arrest for the murder of Abbie Stockwell and Bonnie Andrews and the kidnapping of Rachel Bratton.” You yanked Mikah’s arms behind his back, causing him to scream out. The shot in his arm was gushing blood as you cuffed his wrists. 

Rossi’s gaze jerked upwards suddenly and Reid pushed away from Rachel, calling out your name. You whirled around to see what they were looking at.

“No!” Spencer screamed, watching the arrow enter the center of your chest. You didn’t hear your own gasp over the sound of Rossi’s gun shot, taking out the second killer without hesitation. Funnily enough, you couldn’t hear Rachel’s screaming sobs. You just heard a small voice in your ear. Arms were holding you up off the ground, pulling you into their lap. When did you fall? Why was your shirt wet? 

“Spencer…” You started, but your words came out garbled and breathy. What was happening? Why was your chest so sore? 

“Shhh, don’t talk.” Spence put his hands on your wound. Why did he look so scared? 

“W-what’s going on?” You gasped, the pressure from his hands making you cry out. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He muttered, blood quickly coating his hands. Rossi was lifting Micah to his feet and speaking into the radio in a panicked voice. That’s when Spencer started yelling. “Somebody help! Help us! Agent down! Somebody help us! Please, she needs help!” You finally understood what was going on, the initial shock of your injury clearing from your mind. 

“Spencer…”

“Somebody help!”

“Spence.” You reached up and touched his cheek. “I-I’m okay.” 

“Help is on the way.” Through the sound of his heart pounding, he could hear footsteps approaching. The rest of the team gathered around, Prentiss stopping cold at the sight in front of her. Spencer smiled with delusional relief. “See, Hotch and Morgan and Prentiss are all here. They can help you-” He looked back down and stopped. 

Your head was tilted back, a small trail of blood trickled down from your mouth. Your eyes blankly staring up at the clouded, grey sky. His crimson stained hands reached for your face, smearing the blood on the skin of your cheek. He recoiled from the sight, instead wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him. 

Morgan made a step towards Reid, the younger agent’s quiet sobs growing louder and louder until they were unbearable. Hotch put a hand out to stop him. He knew that Reid needed this moment. He needed to say goodbye.

And I want you to know, you couldn’t have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I’m already gone

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

This story takes place during the summer of 1987. It’s the time of the Cold War, and heavy metal, and Just Say No.

Ten chapters, each with a specific song as its soundtrack.

I’m so excited to finally share it with you.

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Also posted at AO3

—-

Chapter 3: Dancing On Glass

I've been through hell // And I'm never goin' back // To dancing on glass // Going way too fast...

Need one more rush // Then I know, I know I'll stop // One extra push // Last trip to the top...

Soundtrack: “Dancing On Glass,” Mötley Crüe, 1987 [click here to listen]

Three P.M.

Group.

Claire’s hands wrapped around the hard sides of the plastic chair, holding herself upright, watching about two dozen fellow patients? inmates? addicts? shuffle into the room.

Two people stood at the door – greeting others as they entered, handing out small packets of tissues and bottles of Coke.

Today’s facilitator – a middle-aged, bearded man – stood to one side, chatting with a few people.

“Hey!”

Claire startled – and turned to her right to see Jamie slide into the chair beside her.

“How’s it going today? Day two, right?”

She nodded. “Met with my therapist this morning.”

“That’s great! Who’ve you got?”

“Gillian.”

Jamie cracked open a bottle. “Oh, she’s great. Been here a long time. She’s married to the director – did you know that?”

Claire’s eyebrows raised. “No, but that’s really interesting.”

Jamie gulped about half the bottle in one shot. “Yeah. We owe everything to them.”

“Yeah, well. I got assigned to dinner set-up duty.”

He beamed. “Great! I’ve been on that rotation for the last few weeks. I’ll show you all the ropes.”

“Few weeks? How long have you been here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He set down his Coke. “I don’t. And I’ve been here eight weeks. The best eight weeks of my fucked-up life.”

“Don’t say that,” she chided. “Surely everything can’t be so terrible.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“It can be, if you were the reason why a sold-out European tour couldn’t happen, and it cost your backers and buddies tens of millions of dollars, and it pissed off countless thousands of fans.”

Now the greeters took their seats within the circle.

“Couldn’t, or didn’t?” Claire hoped her words were gentle, but when her head split with pain like this she could never tell. “And what do you mean by ‘tour’?”

His eyes narrowed. “Couldn’t. My manager said I’d come back from Europe in a body bag. He’s a bloodsucker but he had enough sense to not kill the golden goose.” He finished his Coke in one long gulp – flexing the tattoos swirling on his forearm and elbow. “And I’m a professional musician – in case you couldn’t guess from the way I look.”

“I see.”

He grinned. “How about that – someone who doesn’t recognize me.”

She folded her hands in her lap, closing her eyes against the pain, so desperately wanting to disappear. “I guess between medical school, and being a surgeon, and my ex-husband…and the pills…there are a lot of things I haven’t paid attention to.”

“Hey.” Softly he reached out to touch her knee – and she looked up at him.

“I’m not making fun of you, Claire. It’s just…I don’t know. Refreshing.”

She smiled tightly.

The facilitator clapped his hands. “Everyone – are we ready?”

People around the circle nodded, and the man sat down in the last empty chair.

“Great. Well, hi everyone. For those of you who don’t know me – I’m Murtagh. Been clean for just about eleven years now. Before that I spent a small fortune that I didn’t have – ”

“ – on enough blow to kill an elephant,” Jamie and several others chorused.

Murtagh smiled. “Wiseasses. Now – today’s topic is: clarity.”

“Can you be more specific?” A heavyset, bearded man across the circle piped up.

“You mean – provide more clarity?” Geneva snickered from somewhere near Jamie.

“Easy,” Murtagh interjected. “And yes, Rupert, of course. What I mean is: something I hear a lot from people here is that being away from substances gives them clarity for the first time in years. Clarity of thoughts – meaning, you’re logical and rational. Clarity of judgment – meaning, you feel like you are empowered to make good decisions. And overall, clarity to step away from all the bullshit that the substances made you do, or made it easier for you to do, and say – damn, what the hell was I doing?”

Across the circle, Rupert nodded. “OK. Oh – hi everyone, I’m Rupert, and I’m an alcoholic. Yeah – I can definitely relate. I wanted to not have clarity, so that I didn’t have to think about how much I was screwing up my job, and my marriage.”

“Good,” Murtagh praised. “And now that you can’t avoid it – how do you feel?”

Rupert stroked his thick beard. “Like shit. I love Scarlet so much, and I fucked it all up. I understand that now.”

“I feel the same way,” Jamie added. “Hi, I'm Jamie, and I'm an alcoholic, too. I drank because I’ve always felt so responsible for everything going on in my band – because I’m the guy that brought us together, and I’m the guy who writes the songs, and I’m the guy who’s across the table from the record company executives, advocating on our behalf.” He bounced a long, thin, jean-clad leg rapidly up and down. “I felt like I was being used, and that I was the only one who cared. I felt that really clearly. So I drank to…to avoid that clarity.”

Claire carefully watched the others around the circle. What Jamie was sharing could make any one of them a quick buck – all it would take was one phone call to a tabloid. But everyone was listening raptly – clearly thinking about parallels in their own lives – and it began to dawn on her that Jamie had one thing she didn’t have much of for herself: respect.

“And then when I drank, I’d just get really mean,” he continued. “I’d say things to rile up my drummer. I had a fling with my manager’s girlfriend, just to fuck with him. And yeah, I’d destroy hotel rooms.”

“Your reaction was to want to hurt people,” Murtagh said gently. “You had had clarity – clarity that you were shouldering too much, for too many people – and you reacted by wanting to push them away.”

“Yeah.” Claire spoke without thinking. “Um – hi everyone, I’m Claire, and I’m addicted to pills. Halcions, mostly.”

“Oh, those are the best,” a woman to Claire’s left remarked.

“Hey – no positive talk,” Murtagh interjected. “You know better than that, Letitia.”

Letitia huffed.

Murtagh turned back to face Claire. “Tell us more, Claire, if you’re comfortable?”

Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. “I was – am – a trauma surgeon for an emergency room. I love it – I love the adrenaline of it, and of course being able to help people on the worst day of their lives. I love being able to heal people. But…but it’s pretty heavy stuff. People die, no matter how hard you try to save them. People wake up and they’re not happy that they don’t have a leg anymore – and I say, would you rather be dead?”

“And you wanted to get away from that?” Jamie asked gently.

She closed her eyes. “I had to have clarity to do my job properly – it’s hard to describe, but it’s like having a laser focus on what’s in front of you. Getting in the zone. Shutting out everything else. And then when it’s all done – I would crash. The whole world would come rushing back, and I’d be covered in someone else’s blood and barely able to sit down before I had to work on the next person. That was so, so hard to deal with.”

“I understand.” Claire opened her eyes – it was an older man speaking right next to Jamie. “Hi everyone – I’m Ned, I’m a lawyer and crack addict, and there are a lot of jokes I’m sure you could make based on that.”

Claire managed a small smile.

“I’m a defense attorney – I’m that guy you see on TV arguing in a courtroom and presenting to a jury. I totally get what Claire said, because I needed to have that kind of really focused clarity, too. It was kind of like acting – I had to remember my argument, and I had to present it to the jury, and I had to pick up on cues from them to see how well I was doing. And then afterward I’d just crash. But I still had to have energy to prep for the next day, and that’s where Miss Crack came in.”

“So what I’m hearing is that clarity is something you already had – and then you turn to substances to get away from it.” Murtagh folded his arms. “Because it’s hard to flip that ‘off’ switch. And then eventually, the substances change from being something to take a vacation from that clarity, to completely blocking out that clarity altogether.”

“Exactly.” It was easier for Claire to focus on Murtagh than the sea of faces surrounding her. “And it’s a deliberate choice. I’m sure, Ned and Rupert and Jamie, that you deliberately sought out something to prevent that clarity. I know I did – I wrote the prescriptions for the pills that I consumed.”

Rupert nodded. “The bottle didn’t pick itself up and pour the liquor down my throat. And you’re right, Claire – at first, at least, it was a conscious decision. Until it became something I had to depend on.”

“I think that there are ways for this to happen more positively.” A woman seated beside Rupert quietly spoke. “Oh – hi, everyone, I’m Marsali, and I’m an alcoholic. What I mean is, there are ways to flip that ‘off’ switch that aren’t so…destructive. You can go for a run. Listen to music. Cook a meal. Watch a movie. Make love to your significant other.”

Murtagh nodded. “Marsali brings up a good point here. I’ll repeat something that I’ve already told many of you before, because it bears repeating. Substance addiction is addiction, first and foremost. All of us are here because our brains are hard-wired for addiction. We can’t change that. But we can change what it is that we’re addicted to.”

“Like what?” Letitia had calmed down a bit, but clearly she was skeptical.

“Whatever works for you,” Murtagh shrugged. “Jiu Jitsu. Flower Arranging. Reading. Playing the drums. Writing. Riding motorcycles. Not all addictions are bad – we just need to find the addictions that help us, and don’t hurt us or the people around us.”

Everyone’s heads nodded in agreement, quietly reflecting.

“So – that’s my homework assignment for all of you.” Murtagh pulled a small spiral notebook from his pocket, flipped to a fresh page, and began scribbling in it. “To think about the thing that you can become positively addicted to. Something you already enjoy, or something you’ve never done before. But I hope that even just thinking about it will give you focus. Improve your clarity.”

“Got it,” Ned said quietly.

Murtagh flipped back to an earlier page in his notebook. “Now – I have here my notes from the last time I facilitated Group. OK if I start going around and asking people for follow-up thoughts to those? Rupert?”

Rupert nodded, and began to speak.

“Facilitators take turns hosting Group every fourth day.” Claire started a bit, but held steady as Jamie leaned in close, spoke quietly into her ear. “We talk about things, and we’re assigned homework, and then the next time the facilitator is back we talk about it.”

“Thanks,” Claire murmured.

Jamie didn’t pull away. “If you ever just want to talk…”

She swallowed. “Thanks. I do. I just – it’s a lot to process.”

“It is. But you’ll get there. Talk more at our dinner prep.”

With that he pulled back, and a low buzz settled somewhere between Claire’s ears as the people around her chimed in to the conversation.

[wdwmarveldisney]

okay i don’t know if you still write for ouat but i’d die for you to write a henry mills fanfic when he’s a teen and he’s in a relationship with a girl of the same age and her parents are villains(but dead now) so regina, emma and the rest of the gang don’t like her and they try to keep henry away from her but he gets upset at them or something because of it.

there are little to none henry mills fanfics out there and it makes me annoyed since i’ve recently refallen down a rabbit hole of wanting to read love stories about him

Don’t

Henry Mills x Fem!reader

Requested

Summary: Reader is the daughter of two recent villains but is nothing like them. When her and Henry start dating, the family don’t take it so well. They begin to try and separate you two out of the belief it was best for him. Having enough of it, Henry snaps at them.

Masterlist

A/N: I agree with there not being enough Henry fics. Also this isn’t set in a certain season. Mentions briefly death, kidnapping and verbal abuse but not in any detail.

(GIF isn’t mine)

Living in Storybrooke was dull when you weren't one of the heroes or villains and especially when your parents were villains leading to no one trusting you. Your parents had recently tried to kill a bunch of people for some ritual. To everyone else, they claimed it was for you but you knew better. They were greedy and self-centred and blinded by it. Everything they did was for personal gain including marrying each other and having you. As much as you didn't want to believe it, it was a story your mum had told you many a times. How they had to pass on their evil legacy to someone and that they had to have a little villain just like them. And so they raised you by neglecting you and verbally abusing you and making you feel like you weren't worth it.

But you didn't believe it. You couldn't. There was so many heroes in the world and you had the opportunity to help. Through tricking your parents into little unnoticeable things. So when they had started to execute their plan, you had headed straight over to the only person you deemed worthy of your trust for the time being. Henry agreed to not tell the heroes that you helped as long as you did. If something went wrong and you had done it purposely, he had swore that he was going to eat you out, no matter the amount of promises you made.

You gave him valuable information of the next person to be kidnapped and when and he relayed the information. And you were parents were caught. You weren't surprised when Henry told you they had chosen to drink an incurable poison to escape doing time for their crimes. It just further proved the theory that they didn't give a damn about you. Apparently they had asked for their maid on their deathbed instead of their daughter and you didn't plan on visiting them. You were free. No more pretending to be evil because no matter what they did, you had told yourself you'd be nothing like them. They were villains, all that was wrong in the world and all you wanted to be was a beacon of light.

After you not visiting your parents, Henry started asking questions. Questions you didn't want to answer. So he connected things and he had got the idea, confirmed by a small nod of your head. Henry understood you weren't your parents and that you wanted to be different so he stuck by you. His family started noticing and whenever passing them in the street, you'd get hesitant or suspicious looks but Henry assured you it was nothing. And then you started dating. Boy, that did not help matters at all.

It was good at first, amazing. You went on so many dates, spent so much time together and knew each other better than anybody could believe. But his family began worrying more, scared you were using him or corrupting him. You couldn't blame them. You're parents were villains and you had asked Henry if he was ok with keeping what your parents were like a secret because you hated the idea of it defining you. He had agreed saying that it was only fair since it was your life and you should be the one to decide who knows. So his family strongly disliked you and you hated it.

One thing you admired about Henry was his love for his family. They were everything to him and so they were important to you. Them hating you tore you apart because it upset Henry. You tried everything to try to prove yourself to them but the recent kidnappings and murders your parents did were fresh in their mind. You explained that to Henry, every time he began to apologise. They had reason and logic on their side and they had every right to dislike you.

Even with the dislike, they never really did anything to get in between you and Henry until recently. Every time there was a date, something magically happened that Henry couldn't get out of. Decorating rooms instead of the arcade dates, clearing out garages instead of the picnics, running the shop instead of lunches at Granny's, helping Hook with his boat instead of movie nights. You could see what they were doing and, though it hurt, you accepted their side of the story. Henry, however, hadn't noticed what they were doing. He had complained about not being able to spend enough time with you and you didn't want to be the one to tell him what was happening.

He had worked it out soon enough and had ranted about it in his cute little way you loved. The over exaggerated retellings, the massive hand gesture that had made him accidentally hit you at times, the cute little pout. After spending the time with you on your 'secret date', he seemed to have planned something. You were complaining about the old lady in the next room at the inn who couldn't seem to keep her nose out of your business when his eyes had lit up and his grip tightened ever so slightly on your hand. "You ok there?"

"Come on," Henry practically dragged out of the diner, giving just enough time to leave way too much money on the table. He had dragged you straight to the loft, where everyone was and pulled you over to the sofa. He began to put in a movie whilst you had an internal breakdown. You always did movie nights at your room to avoid his family and any possible outcomes it may have. The start to Peter Pan began to play and a smile made its way onto your face, your hand having to cover your lips when you remembered Hook was right behind you. Henry gave you a grin and a shrug before sitting next to you and pulling you into his side despite your attempts to avoid it.

It was silent apart from the TV and you could feel the eyes on the back of your head glaring at you. Taking a deep breath, you moved closer to Henry and grabbed his hand in order to play with his fingers, a habit you had began to do when stressed. His focus went from the movie to you as all your focus was on his fingers. He had this small grin on his face as he watched you interlaced your fingers with his and turn back to the movie. He soared a glance over his shoulder to see his family still watching with hesitant looks. He sighed, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie, standing up in the process. You had ended up almost laying on the sofa from his sudden disappearance and sighed when you saw the look on his face. He was going to have a go at them. You'd convinced him not to but he was going to anyway. You stood up too, in front of him, hands on his chest as you two made eye contact. "Don't,"

"I have to," his voice was strong but soft and you sighed, resting your forehead against his shoulder, praying to every god above this went well. "I know you guys have been trying to keep her away from me because of who her parents are but she's not like that. She's the complete opposite!" He looked to you for permission, understanding that it was probably best to tell them. You nodded, not facing the adults in order to ignore the reactions, "Her parents were horrible. They neglected her and verbally abused her and tried to force her to become this mirror image of them but she's good. She's the kindest, sweetest and cutest person I know. She's spent money she doesn't have on me because I've forgotten to eat or I can't pay for something. She drops everything if I need her and she listens to everything I say. I," he paused, sending you a quick smile, "We hate that you don't like her. She's been trying so hard to prove to you guys she's good and you're just ignoring it!"

"Kid-"

"No mum. You can't justify that. And I've wanted to talk to you about it for a while now but Y/N has constantly stood up for you and stopped me." You finally looked at the adults' expression, the shock and surprise and a hint of guilt possibly. You were never really good at reading expressions. "I love her," that got your attention. You quickly stepped in front of him, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. "Say what now?" He laughed, glancing down to where you had subconsciously grabbed his hand and began to play with his fingers. "I love you,"

"I love you too," his grin widen at your dopey smile and giddy expression. You lifted your hand and shoved his shoulder lightly making him laugh and reach to hold that hand as well. "We're sorry," With what was happening, the fact there were adults in the room had completely slipped from your mind. Facing them, you saw them glancing between you two and let a confused look take over your features. "Why?"

"We shouldn’t have done what we did. We should’ve given you a chance,” Snow was the one to speak but from their similar expressions, you guessed they all felt the same. Even with the apology you were confused. “But you had every right too. You were trying to protect Henry and I’m the daughter of two evil monsters. I don’t blame you,” they all smiled, Regina clapping her hands together before speaking, “Well, how about we watch the movie?” As the adults worked on popcorn and blankets and Hook not so secretly changing the movie, you and Henry sat on the sofa. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, the two of you smiling like maniacs. You had both wanted this since the beginning and now all you felt was relief and love.

You finally felt like you had a family.

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Welcome to the End

Summary: Y/N Winchester was a hunter like her brothers, following in their fathers footsteps. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

During a case in Georgia, you meet the Dixon brothers and after saving Daryl's life against a Chupacabra, the two of you become close. But, when the zombie apocalypse starts, life as you know it changes forever.

FANFIC TRAILER 

Basically a Supernatural/The Walking Dead crossover fic where Chuck starts the zombie apocalypse in S14E20 'Welcome to The End'

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Language, minor descriptions of blood 

A/N- Well here it is. I've been writing and planning this for well over a year and it's finally ready.

The first half of this chapter is slow because it's basically just background info, but I promise it gets better.

This fic basically picks up straight into Season 14 Episode 20 of SPN when Chuck gives the boys the 'Equaliser' handgun to kill Jack.

Chapter 1- Prologue 

Your father was a hunter. Your mother was an angel. They were from two worlds that were never meant to meet. They made you what you are today. A daughter of an angel. A born hunter. A Nephilim. But, most importantly; a Winchester.

You were only two years younger than your brother, Sam, but despite your powers your older brothers were extremely protective over you and you were protective over them. If anyone so much as laid a finger on either of them, they'd have hell to pay. 

You never knew about your powers when you were younger. You never even knew you were a Nephilim or that they even existed and you never knew who your mother was. The only thing you did know about her was her name; Lucille.

Your Dad used to say your mother was just some woman he hooked up with one day. She got pregnant and he got left with the baby, but there was so much more to the story that he never told you.

Your mother was an angel.

Your Dad did hook up with her, that part was true. However, it wasn't just a one night stand, John Winchester fell in love with her, but Lucille ended it.

She told him who she really was and said that she couldn't stay because it was too dangerous for him and his two sons. So, Lucille left. Until one day she showed up on his doorstep covered in blood and bruises with a baby in her arms. She gave him the baby saying the name 'Y/N' before she disappeared and he never heard or saw her ever again.

You grew up as a hunter, following in your fathers footsteps beside your eldest brother, Dean. Although, Sam didn't like the hunter life, the three of you came together when your Dad went missing and life as you knew it changed within just a few short months.

Before John died he told you who your true mother was, and told you what you were, but you refused to believe it. It was impossible, angels didn't exist. But, then you met Castiel and your whole world changed. Over the years Cas helped you with your powers, taught you how to use them and how to control them.

Sam and Dean were shocked to say the least, but were always there and supportive while you were trying to figure everything out. Despite being part angel, nothing really changed. You went on hunts with your brothers and your powers were just an added bonus that helped you take down whatever supernatural creature you were facing. 

Then years later, the whole thing with Jack Kline happened. Then the archangel Michael, and then Jack lost his soul... and then he killed Mary Winchester and that drew the line.

Mary wasn't your biological mother, but when she got bought back she became like the mother you never had. It was a bit rocky at first especially between her and Dean when she first came back, but things were just starting to get better, it starting to feel like a proper family and within a second it was all over.

Then, because things weren't already fucked up and complicated enough Chuck finally showed up.

He gave you a weapon that was powerful enough to kill Jack. It looked like just your average silver desert eagle handgun, but apparently it could kill anything, except it had a catch. What happened to the person you shoot at also happened to you, so in other words; you die.

After talking about it between Dean, Sam, Cas and Chuck it was clear everyone was on different pages. Cas wanted to save Jack, Dean wanted to kill Jack while you and Sam were sort of sitting in the middle unsure of what to do, but deep down you knew it had to be done. You couldn't risk the fate of the world, like Chuck had said, Jack was dangerous and could easily destroy the world if he wanted to.

"Sam, you know what needs to happen." You said breaking the silence.

You looked over at your brother who was sitting on the other side of the war table, shaking his head.

Cas had stormed off after an argument with Dean and Dean had walked out the room shortly after. Chuck had disappeared again which left you and Sam sitting at the table in total confusion.

"Don't you start too." Sam sighed looking over at you in disbelief and you just shrugged your shoulders.

"Just thinking logically here, bro. But, we should probably go talk to Dean. I don't like how he walked off and took that gun with him." You stated causing Sam's eyes to quickly dart down to the table not realising Dean had taken it.

In an instant, Sam was on his feet and you followed him down the hallway to Deans bedroom.

"Dean?" You called out, knocking on his door that was already slightly open.

"Yeah?"

You took that as your cue to open the door, but all you could see was his empty bed before you heard the soft clinking of a glass bottle coming from behind the door.

"Over here." Dean called out as you turned around to find him sitting at the small table that was located behind the door.

You eyed the bottle of Jack Daniels that was he currently pouring into a flask, but decided not to ask.

"Glad you guys are here. I actually need to talk to you about something. Um... have a seat." Dean said motioning towards his bed.

You shared a quick glance at Sam before you both sat down on the edge of his bed and looked over at your older brother.

"What's going, bro?" You asked, trying to keep your tone calm although you already knew where this conversation was going and like hell were you going to let Dean be the one to pull the trigger on the suicidal gun.

"You know what I'm gonna say." Dean responded, leaning back in his chair.

"Let me guess. This is where you tell us that you're gonna pull the trigger?" Sam asked, but it was clear he already knew the answer.

"Yeah, it is. We don't have a choice, Sam." Dean said, his eyes glancing between the two of you.

"Of course we do. Don't we always? I mean, isn't that the point of everything we've ever done, that we always have a choice?" Sam questioned and you could tell he was trying to keep his voice under control, but you could hear the emotion behind it.

"He killed our mom." Dean said in defeat.

"I get it. I was mad too. Or you know what? Hell, I'm still mad. And a part of me still wants Jack dead, it really does. But Dean, we haven't even tried to save him-" Sam began to say before he was cut off.

"Save- Okay. You heard him, right? He actually blamed mom for what happened." Dean argued.

"He doesn't have a soul!" Sam exclaimed using his hands to try made a point causing Dean to shake his head.

"And who's fault is that?" He asked and you couldn't sit back and listen to this any longer.

"Ours. He burnt off his soul for us. You, me, Sam and Cas. Us. Now, I don't like this idea, the kid is family, but Dean’s right. We don't have a choice." You explained, looking between your two brothers as Dean nodded in agreement, but Sam looked ready to argue and you held your hand up to silence him.

"Don't. Now one of us has to pull that trigger and it's gonna be me." You declared causing Dean to suddenly sit up straight in his chair as he stared at you like you had gone crazy.

"No!" They both shouted in sync causing you to roll your eyes. How many times have you heard them say that to you over the years?

"It's not up for discussion. Jack is a Nephilim, a son of Lucifer and a lot more powerful than me, but I'm still a Nephilim too and heal quickly. If anyone can survive pulling the trigger it's me." You tried to explain, but you might as well be talking to a brick wall because neither of them were listening.

"Like hell we're letting you risk that. That's not happening, ever." Dean stated sternly, his eyes narrowing in your direction and you sighed.

"Dean-" You began to say before Sam spoke up.

"No. Neither of you are doing it. You guys want me to say that I'm cool with losing Jack and one of you all at once? Because I can't do that. I won't do that... I... No. We've already lost too much." Sam responded, wiping the tears from his eyes before he stood up and walked out the room, not giving you or Dean a chance to say anything further.

You glanced over Dean who shook his head and picked up a glass of whiskey tipping it back in one shot. You sighed and fell backwards until your back hit his mattress as you stared up at the ceiling.

"I miss the days where the only things we had to worry about were cases about Wendigos or hell, even just ordinary demons." You commented a few moments later causing Dean to chuckle from the table.

"Me too, sis. Me too." He sighed as you sat yourself back up and looked over at him.

"We'll figure something out. I'll go talk to Sam." You said and Dean nodded as you stood up and began to walking out, patting him on the shoulder before you closed the door behind you.

You slowly made your way back to the main room of the bunker, going via your bedroom to put a flannel on over your tank top.

"You're scared of him." Sam's voice spoke up from the main room of the bunker causing you to freeze where you stood in the hallway as you tried to figure out who he was talking to. Was Cas back?

"Aren't you?" Chucks voice responded. Great, he was back. Maybe he might be useful for once.

"Do you know where Jack is?" You asked, walking into the room, spotting the two of them standing on the other side of the war table.

"Yes."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Sam questioned in confusion, focusing back on Chuck.

"Oh, nothing. Dean's already gone." He informed causing Sam's eyes to snap over at you in panic.

Without a second thought you quickly used your powers and teleported into Deans room, but it was empty. Son of a bitch. .

"He's not in his room. Where the hell is Jack?" You questioned angrily as you teleported back into the main room.

Your eyes started to glow bright purple as you marched towards Chuck before Sam quickly grabbed your shoulders to stop you from doing something stupid.

"The cemetery." Chuck answered before he vanished into thin air.

Shit, you've never been to this towns cemetery before which meant you couldn't teleport there. Stupid fucking teleportation limits. The one damn cemetery you hadn't visited before, typical.

"My car, now." You instructed as you and Sam sprinted out the room to the garage and you jumped into the drivers seat, slamming the gear stick into reverse.

The drive across town felt like it would never end, but eventually you reached the cemetery. You had driven way to fast to be even considered dangerous driving, but neither of you cared as you pulled in and parked beside the Impala before hurriedly climbing out.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, spotting your brother first as he began to run off.

You quickly turned in his direction to find Dean standing in the middle of the cemetery. He had the gun raised at Jack who was sitting on his knees in front of him. Shit.

"Dean!" You shouted, quickly teleporting closer, landing only a few metres away. "Dean." You said again, your voice now softer as you glanced down at Jack who was just staring up at Dean waiting for him to pull the trigger.

"I understand. I know what I have done." Jack said calmly.

The kid glanced over at you for a second and gave you a small smile before he looked back towards Dean while Sam was still running across the cemetery, trying to catch up.

"Stay back, Y/N. You too, Sam." Dean instructed and you glanced over your shoulder to find Sam only a few metres behind you now, but he stopped, listening to his brother's warning.

"You were right, all along. I am a monster." Jack said, but you shook your head.

Shit, you might have agreed that this was the only choice, but you didn't want him to die. You didn't want Jack to die, he was just a kid.

"Dean, please don't." You whispered watching as he pushed the hammer down with his thumb, loading the gun.

For a moment you thought about using your powers on Dean, to stop him, but you quickly shook that idea. You refused to use your powers on your family unless it was to heal them. You nearly killed Sam once when you were still learning how to control your powers and you hadn't so much as thought about using them on someone you cared about ever again.

Dean hovered his finger over the trigger, the gun still raised to Jacks head. But, but not a second later he lowered the gun and you let out a shaky breath that you didn't even realise that you were holding in.

Sudden movement caught your eye and you looked up spotting Cas standing himself up and walking over to you. You frowned wondering what happened to him as Dean tossed the gun to the ground.

"No! Pick it up." Chucks voice shouted causing you to jump slightly as you turned around to find him now standing next to Sam.

Chuck really needed a damn bell on him or something.

"This isn't how the story is supposed to end." Chuck stated walking over to you and Dean as he glanced down at Jack.

"The story?" Cas questioned in confusion as he helped Jack to his feet.

"Look at it. The gathering storm, the gun, the father killing his own son. This is Abraham and Isaac. This is epic." Chuck explained motioning towards Dean and Jack causing you to shake your head in confusion as you tried to figure out what the hell that all meant.

"Wait, what are you saying?" Dean asked, but before Chuck could answer Sam did.

"He's saying, he's been playing us. This whole time. Our entire lives. Mom... Dad... Everything. This is all you because you wrote it all, right? Because... Because what? We're your favourite show? Because we're a part of your story?" Sam questioned and you looked back towards Chuck in absolute shock.

He had been playing you, right from the start. From the moment you were born and handed to your birth father after your mother disappeared. Did he make your mother come to earth to meet John? Did he make her leave? What even happened to your mother? Was she still alive? Did he make John die just because he thought it was fucking funny?!

"Okay, Dean, no offence, but your brother is stupid and crazy. And that kid is still dangerous. So, pick up the gun. Pick it up and pull the trigger... and I'll bring her back. Your mom." Chuck negotiated and your jaw dropped. Was he seriously going to bring Mary into this?

Dean glanced over at Sam and Cas before looking towards you like he was at a loss for what do before he looked back at Chuck and shook his head.

"No." He answered, taking a few steps back until he was standing beside Sam. "My mom is my hero and I miss her. I will miss her every second of my life, but she would not want this."

"It's not like you even really care. The apocalypse, the first go-around, with Lucifer and Michael. You knew everything that was going on, so why the games, Chuck? Why didn't you snap your fingers and end it?!" You shouted, your eyes flashing bright purple as you stared at him.

"Look I-" Chuck began to say before Sam cut him off.

"And every other bad thing we've been killing, been dying over. Where were you? Just sitting back and watching us suffer, so we can do this over and over and over again. Fighting, losing people we love? When does it end? Tell me!" Sam shouted, but Chuck just completely ignored him as he looked over at your other brother.

"Dean, don't do this-" Chuck tried to say.

"We're done talking. Because this... this isn't just a story. It's our lives! So God or no God, you go to hell." Dean yelled pointing towards Chuck causing him to chuckle in disbelief.

"Have it your way." Chuck responded as he raised his hand, clicking his fingers causing Jack to suddenly scream.

You quickly looked over at kid in horror as bright light burst through his eyes and mouth like he had just been stabbed with an angel blade, but he didn't. Chuck was killing him.

"Jack!" You shouted, watching as he fell to the floor still screaming in pain and you quickly dropped to your knees beside him, Cas right there with you. But, there was nothing either of you could do.

"Stop it. Stop it!" Dean and Sam both yelled and you glanced over your shoulder just in time to watch Chuck throw Dean and Sam across the cemetery as their bodies slammed into a couple gravestones before they landed on the ground. 

You glanced down at Jack and that's when you spotted the handgun just lying on the ground a few metres away where Dean had tossed it.

Without any further thought you held your hand out, using your powers as the gun flew into your hand. You caught it easily, noting that it was still loaded before you turned towards Chuck, who was standing a few metres away looking at your brother's.

"Hey, Chuck!" You shouted, catching his attention as he began to turn around and you quickly squeezed the trigger.

Sudden pain burst through your shoulder as you watched the bullet pierce through Chucks left shoulder. The force of the hit sent you flying back a few feet, landing on the ground and you weren't to able to stop the small cry of pain from escaping your lips.

You glanced down spotting a bullet wound in your left shoulder and it wasn't like you hadn't been shot before, but this one hurt a hell of a lot worse.

"Fine! That's the way you want it? Alright, you'll be seeing your father soon!" Chuck yelled, drawing your attention back to him to find him still standing there with a bullet wound through the same shoulder.

"Story's over. Welcome to the end." He declared as he snapped his fingers and he suddenly disappeared, but nothing else happened. What the hell? Was something meant to happen? It sure as hell felt like something dramatic was meant to happen.

"Hey, hey, you okay? Y/N?" Dean's voice shouted bringing you out of your thoughts as him and Sam crouched down in front of you with panicked eyes.

"Yeah, I'm good." You winced as you touched the bullet wound.

You expected it to be healed up already, but as you pulled your fingers away they were laced with blood causing you to frown.

Your brother's helped you to your feet, seeming worried that the bullet wound hasn't healed yet, but you ignored them as you rushed over to Jack.

His lifelessly body was just lying on the ground as Cas knelt down beside him. No. No. No. He couldn't be dead. Not Jack, not like this. This couldn't be happening. None of this could be happening. You had to be dreaming, no if you were dreaming then your shoulder wouldn't be hurting. Fuck.

"Wait, I thought Chuck said the gun was the only thing that could..." Dean trailed off as you tried to force the tears in your eyes to go away. He was dead. Jack was gone.

"He's a writer. Writers lie." Cas responded and you knew he was fighting back tears as well.

You dropped to your knees beside him unable to stop the tears falling down your cheeks as you covered your mouth with your hands to try a muffle your sobs.

Cas' hand gently grabbed your shoulder for comfort and that was all it took before you broke down. Cas quickly wrapped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side as you cried into him.

Your brothers dropped to the ground behind you, you could hear Sam's sharp breaths as he struggled to hold himself together and you were pretty sure Dean was in the same boat. 

None of you said anything for nearly 10 minutes as you sat there and stared at Jack's dead body. His eyes burnt out from whatever Chuck had done to him before Sam and Dean carried his body back to the Impala announcing that he deserved a hunters funeral.

Sam and Cas drove your car back to the bunker to collect a few of Jacks things and supplies while you and Dean drove out to the woods. He parked near a creek which was where him and Jack had gone fishing together and figured it was a good place to do it.

You remembered how happy the kid was when him and Dean had came home that day. He wouldn't shut about the fishing trip for the whole week and you knew Dean loved it too, but he'd never admit it.

"I'm gonna go get some smaller sticks by the creek." You called out, your voice hoarse from all the crying and Dean just nodded.

You teleported over to the creek, but the second you did your legs instantly buckled from underneath you as searing pain erupted through your head.

You could feel blood starting to drip from your nose as you grabbed your head, squeezing your eyes shut at the pain. It was like someone was hammering a thousand nails into your skull at the same time and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"Y/N?!" Dean's voice shouted in the background somewhere, but you could barely hear it through the blood rushing in your ears.

What the hell was happening? You could always teleport and never be affected like this.

"Hey, hey, talk to me. What's happening? Y/N?" Dean questioned in panic.

You just shook your head unable to get words out your mouth as you kept your eyes closed and hands over your head, hoping it would try to lessen the pain.

"Sam, get here now. Something's happening to Y/N- Fucked if I know, she teleported and now she's in pain, I think it's her head and her nose it bleeding- I don't know! -Okay, just get here." Dean shouted into his phone, but you couldn't hear him.

What felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, the pain eventually reduced into a dull ache and you slowly opened your eyes to find your brother sitting right in front of you with worried eyes.

"I-I'm okay." You whispered breathlessly as you wiped the blood from your nose, but Deans face hardened as he shook his head.

"What just happened?" He asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know. It's my powers. I can't heal myself and when I tried earlier I got a dull ache in my head, but after teleporting it felt like my head was going to explode. Hang on, let me try something." You said as you shakily stood yourself up.

You held your hands out and tried to move a stone from the ground with your powers, but the second the stone started to rise the sharp pain spiked through your head and you quickly lowered your hands.

"It's my powers. Fuck, this has to be Chuck. Whatever he did when he snapped his fingers, this must be part of it." You groaned, rubbing the side of your head.

Dean looked at you hopelessly, not knowing what to say or what to do because what the hell were you meant to do? Your powers were screwed, Jack was dead, everything was falling apart. 

By the time Sam and Cas came back, you and Dean had cut most of the wooden logs and the four of you neatly stacked them up around Jack's body.

Sam and Cas had asked what was wrong with you earlier and you explained what happened hoping Cas might have an answer, but he didn't. He didn't know why your powers were having side effects.

After you burned Jack and gave him a send-off that he deserved, you all went back to bunker. The wound on your shoulder wasn't showing any signs of healing on it's own. Cas had tried to heal it too, but for some reason he couldn't.

So, Sam stitched it up and bandaged it, saying to just keep an eye on it and make sure it didn't get worse. But, that was the furthest thing on your mind right now as the four of you all sat down around the war table.

"What the hell did Chuck mean? He said 'story's over, welcome to the end', what the hell does that mean?" Dean questioned, unable to hide the anger in his tone as he glanced around the table hoping one of you knew the answer.

"Maybe he was bluffing." Sam answered, although it was clear he didn't believe a word he just said. Chuck never bluffed. Whenever he did something, it was always go big or go home.

"Something's going to happen... or somethings already happened, I can feel it. Best guess is another apocalypse or maybe the ground will just open up and swallow everyone whole. I don't know, but something big is going to happen." You insisted.

"She's right, I can feel it too. I fear whatever Chuck had in mind, has already begun." Cas spoke up and you nodded in agreement causing Dean to sigh, rubbing his face with his hands.

"We should call everyone. Warn them that something is going to happen." Sam suggested and you all began pulling your phones out. "I'll call Donna and Jodie." He said, standing up from the table as he began to dial their numbers and walk out the room.

"I'll call Bobby, Charlie and Rick." Dean stated, following his brothers lead as he stood up, patting your good shoulder gently before he wandered off to his bedroom.

"Cas, can you give me a moment." You said, holding up your phone and he nodded, giving you a sad smile before he walked out the room to give you some privacy.

You unlocked your phone and scrolled through the contacts until you came across the familiar name. 

Daryl Dixon.

You stared at his name for a few seconds before you took a deep breath and pressed the green call button. 

-

MASTERLIST  

Next Chapter

Tag Lists- I will reblog with my tag lists, so if you wanted to be added to just let me know. 

A/N- Well, there’s the first chapter. I am very nervous about this fic, it’s my first ever crossover and it’s my first time writing for SPN, so I really want to get it right. 

Now, I know this chapter was a little slow, but like I said above it needed to be more background info before we get into the apocalypse and start meeting TWD characters. 

Throughout the next few chapters there will be some flashback scenes which will explain how Y/N and Daryl know each other, also if you’re wondering why Dean said he would call ‘Bobby, Charlie and Rick’ it’ll be explained later how the Winchesters know Rick Grimes so don’t worry. 

Anyway, that’s enough rambling from me. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I would love to hear your thoughts about it below and the next chapter will be up next week, so stay tuned. But, until next time, stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

[schrijverr]

Surprise Hit

On a con Eliot is recognized by someone who has a hit on him and has to run.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of some mafia dealings

~~~~~~~~~~~

The con went to shit.

This happened often enough with a mark not making the expected choice, a firewall taking longer to crack than anticipated or someone showing up that was not supposed to. It was normal, however the way it went to shit this time was unique. “Nate, I got a problem,” Eliot announced.

“What is it?” Nate asked over the coms. It was an integral part of the plan that Eliot talked to their mark, John Fernsby, and convinced him to meet with Sophie. Nate would have done it, but he had already been the one to go in and convince the billionaire that thebusiness was worth investing in and Hardison was needed to help Parker into the safe. It had to be Eliot.

But Eliot said there was a problem, which was bad. However, it was about to get worse when Eliot answered: “He’s talking with a foreign dignitary, but I know he isn’t. That’s Mikhail Volkov, Russian mob. He has a hit out on me.”

“The fuck, man,” Hardison replied.

“I didn’t pick it either, okay,” Eliot hissed back. “But if he sees me, we’re fucked. Well, I’m fucked and someone has to take my part in the con.”

Hardison had pulled up the camera feed of the gala and watched how Eliot turned away from the mark and tried to leave them room without pulling any attention to himself. He almost managed too, were it not for a serenade band coming in right as he was near the exit.

It was such a stupid little thing that they couldn't have predicted and it was so incredibly ill-timed that Eliot had no room to come up with something. Mikhail turned to the band and saw Eliot, his brow furrowed and he yelled: “Stop that man!” as Eliot started to sprint, multiple people now on his trail.

He pushed over furniture behind him and swerved while a few bullets started to fly around his head, dangerously close. In his ear Hardison was giving him directions to Lucille, but he knew he could not return to the team. Not right now.

The Russian mob was not known for their leniency and if they thought he had people he worked with, then they would only target them as well. No, he had to go into hiding on his own and return to them later, when he could shake off his pursuers. In his ear he heard Hardison rant at him as he took the wrong turn, but Eliot didn’t care. He had a plan.

On the street it was easier to disappear, though he got many looks from people as they cleared the way for him while he ran like a madman. There were a few screams when the Russians appeared behind him with guns.

If it were a normal day and he was on his own, he would have stayed to fight them, but he was wearing a suit he couldn't easily fight in and Sophie and Parker had still been in the building, he couldn't risk them for something stupid he’d done in the past. And when he was outside, he didn’t have the surprise advantage or the closeness to take on that many guys with guns.

So, he ran.

His lungs were burning in his chest and his legs would be jelly were it not for the fact that he regularly ran long tracks in case he got in this exact situation.

It took a while, but the bullets stopped flying around his head and he couldn't hear any footsteps behind him anymore. He took a moment to focus on the chatter over the coms. His brain hadn’t heardany of the key words to get his attention in the background, so he assumed it was all fine.

“Eliot, Eliot, are you listening to me?” That was Nate.

“I’m here,” he grunted, checking in the alley if there was anyone still following, before starting to climb the fire escape.

“What are you doing? Hardison’s GPS says you’re nowhere near the hotel. We need to regroup and figure out our next move,” Nate said as Sophie asked: “Are you okay, Eliot?”

He replied: “I’m fine, Sophie. Just didn’t want to lead a group of armed mobster to our hotel room when their goal is to kill me and all my associates.”

“They’re coming to kill us?” Hardison’s squeaky voice came through the speaker.

“Not if they don’t know I’m with you,” Eliot assured him, “which is why I’m not at the hotel right now. I think I’ve shaken them off, but just in case I’m taking a long way round. Probably won’t come through the doors.”

Thenhe tuned them out again. It might be rude and he heard they were still asking him all sorts of questions, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer. He had other things to focus on and the last thing he wanted was to tell them why there was a hit on his head from this particular mobster.

Going through the city over the roof, he saw a few familiar stances and haircuts stationed at public places where he would hide, as well as at the hotels and he knew he had made the right decision to take this route.

Mentally he was trying to figure out why Mikhail was here of all places talking with their mark. It could be that he was laundering money and their mark having a connection with the mob could both help and be an issue. He could get into witness protection in turn for information, but it was also proof that his business wasn’t clean, even if they had wanted to get him for the stealing of company funds that screwed over his employees’ safety.

But that was not his business to think about, but Nate’s. He would wait for what the man had to say about this development, but in order to do that, he needed to get back to the hotel.

There were also “guards” at the entrance of their hotel, but the team was only on the fourth floor and while they weren’t close to the fire escape, Eliot could get up high and then go side wards over the ridge to their window.

He gave Hardison a heart attack when he got at the window. They hadn’t left it open, much to his chagrin, but were luckily there to open it for him and it was better not to have a weakness in the defense, so he couldn't blame them.

“What the hell, man,” Hardison said. “Give someone a warning before you go around showing up in front of the window. Did you even have safety or something? We’re up high. You could have fallen to your death, Eliot.”

“Yeah and if I had gone through the front door, I would have been shot,” he pointed out tiredly from where he was lying on the floor.

Parker was looking out the window and smiled: “Oeh, that’s a good climbing ridge indeed.”

“Woman!” Hardison exclaimed, while Eliot said: “We could do without the attention to our room, Parker, maybe next time.” She looked sad and glanced over one more time, before closing the window with a pout.

“Care to explain what happened?” Nate asked as he leaned over him. He did that face where he attempted innocence, but failed.

“Got recognized by someone who’s sort of actively trying to kill me,” Eliot replied with what they already knew.

“Sort of actively?” Sophie asked and Eliot was glad he could explain something not that bad to them instead of the other stuff. “Yeah, there’s a difference between saying, ‘hey if you manage to kill this person and prove it you get money,’ and ‘I am hiring you to kill this person within a time frame.’ Mikhail is the former. If I die, he would be happy, but he’s not putting extra resources in finding me and eliminating me.”

“And why would be be happy if you’re dead?” Fucking Nate always sticking his nose everywhere.

“I met him once,” Eliot wasn’t giving him shit.

“Would I be correct in assuming that the meeting ended in a loss on his end?” Nate replied.

“Maybe.” He was neither confirming or denying, not if there was no explicit reason. He hadn’t felt bad about the blow to Mikhail’s organization. It hadn’t been the worst he’d done and Mikhail had a smuggling ring of sex workers and that had been awful to find.

“Okay, so we know Fernsby has connections to the Russian mob,” Nate thought out loud. “So, he’s not only stealing money from his employees, but laundering dirty money as well. If we can tie those together then we’re set.”

“Mikhail has a weakness for brunettes,” Eliot informed him, not telling him how he got that tidbit of knowledge. “He also likes gambling.”

Nate got a glint in his eye as he looked to Sophie, who smiled back. Of course those two would have a plan without needing to communicate.

“You’re out for the rest of the con,” Nate told him. “Can’t have you risk the entire thing if you’re recognized.”

“What? No!” Eliot sat up. “I need to be there to have your back. With the Russians it’s only going to get more dangerous. I’m not leaving you to your fate with those people, they’re dangerous, Nate. This isn’t just some cushy billionaire anymore.”

“And what if he gets suspicious of Sophie because of you, what will you do then, Eliot?” Nate shot back. “I’m not saying you need to stay here, but I am saying you need to keep out of sight. You’re with Hardison in Lucille.”

Eliot wanted to protest, wanted to be closer to the danger in case it went to shit, he wanted to be there when a mistake from his past came back, but he couldn't argue with Nate’s logic and sometimes he hated that about the man.

So, he found himself watching the screens in Lucille as Sophie tried to get Mikhail to make a gamble on her company, to ditch Fernsby, because he was doing it without him and leaving him out of the profits.

He was filled with jittery energy, but so far so good.

“Hey, Eliot,” Hardison opened. “What’s it like, you know, to have a hit on your head? I mean, I’m wanted in some countries, but that’s just boring government stuff, not actual people, like persons, wanting me dead personally, you know.”

“Are you really asking me what it’s like when someone wants you killed?” Eliot asked him.

“I guess,” Hardison shrugged, trying not to look like he wanted to know the answer and failing miserably.

“It’s not that different from being wanted by the government, I suppose,” Eliot finally answered, surprising Hardison. “You just gotta watch out for different things and hope no one is desperate enough for cash to go after you. I have a good enough reputation that hardly anyone tries, but I’ve had periods where I had multiple people on my trail across a dozen countries. It was exhausting, but I get it. Kill me and you can make a lot of people with a lot of money happy.”

“Wait, hold on, reverse and repeat,” Hardison said. “A lot of people?”

“Yeah,” Eliot replied, didn’t Hardison know this? “I got more than one hit on my head. I think it’s five. Used to be six, but one of them died and the bounty fell through. Though I never knew if that one English guy put one on my head as well. And of course, the countries, but those are always lazy about it, so I don’t worrry too much about those.”

“What the fuck, man.”

Eliot didn’t see the big deal. He had done a lot to deserve it and he had learned to live with it. He hadalways kept one eye open anyway.

He focused back on the screen, despite the hiccup earlier with him, the con ran smoothly on its new course and Sophie was phenomenal as he pitted the two guys against one another, making them sell each other out in the end.

Nate was there with the police and both were arrested with illegal cash on their hands and a lot of bank records detailing their dirty schemes as well as showing the abysmal circumstances of the workers that had gone unaddressed in favor of laundering money.

Later when they were sitting in the bar, Nate turned to him and asked: “Any more of that we should be worried about?”

Before Eliot could answer, Hardison had jumped in: “Apparently between five and six more times.”

“No, between four and five,” Eliot corrected. “Mikhail is no longer on the list, but honestly we couldn't have predicted this and there are too many bad guys I’ve known, double crossed, worked for or left that are still out there. We can’t account for all of them. I’ll try to be aware of which marks could have ties to other’s I’ve known, but you don’t get to be good in my line of work without enemies.”

Nate wanted to say something else, but Sophie was quicker. “I’m not keeping track of all the people I have grifted either, Nate,” she said. “We all have a past and you’re not harping me about that or Parker on all she’s stolen. Just because Eliot’s past is a bit different, doesn’t mean we can treat it differently in our team.”

Eliot didn’t fully agree with the comparison. His enemies we’re not the same and one of them coming back would be worse than it was for others.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. Not right now.

He thought of all the people he killed, all the families he’d left behind with one member less. He thought of Moreau and the horrible things he’d done for that man. He thought of the US Army that had turned him into a killer and set him loose on foreign soil for the first time.

And he thought of his team. Of how glad he was he knew them and how they made him better and didn’t force him to be a person he hated. How much they meant to him and how badly he didn’t want to loose that.

So he stayed quiet and let Sophie defend him, hoping his past would not come back like that again.

~~

A/N:

Sorry that the con is kinda vague, I only had the ‘the mark/someone there has a hit on Eliot and he needs to run’ and no clear plan on running the con in the background. Hope it was still enjoyable :D