So I decided to do a little crossover with Death Parade for today's prompt. I hope you enjoy :3
The elevator chimed as the door opened, you hesitantly walked out into the elegant hallway. You wanted to take the time to admire the beautiful aesthetic but you couldn't, you had no memory of how you got here and it made you uneasy. Looking around you noticed a man stepping out of another elevator, he seemed to be just as lost.
"Hey," you greeted, waving.
"Hey there!" The man smiled, he took his orange cowboy hat off and gave a small bow. "My name's Portgas D. Ace."
"[L/n] [Y/n]." You bowed in return as you introduced yourself to Ace.
"That's a nice name," Ace complimented. Your cheeks grew red but he didn't pay any mind to that as he asked, "Do you know where I am, [Y/n]?"
"No, sorry, I just got here. I don't even remember how I got here," you informed him becoming worried once more.
"It should be fine, we can ask someone," Ace reassured you, holding out his hand. "Come on."
You grasped his hand, feeling a warmth take over you. You smiled, feeling safe by his friendly side. The two of you made your way down the hallway, turning left and finding a lounge at the end with a bar.
"Hello, welcome to the Quindecim," a man with white hair and blue eyes welcomed you. "My name is Decim and I will be your bartender."
"This is a nice place you got here," Ace commented holding his hat with freehand and looking around, seeing all of the fancy lights around.
"Thank you very much, sir." Decim bowed then continued. "Please, take a seat."
You shared a glance with Ace, both of you hoping you could get some answers. The two of you went over to the bar, Ace pulled out a chair for you, you thanked him as you sat down. Ace got his own seat and sat in it, resting his elbows on the table.
"A pleasure to meet you both," Decim said, his voice remaining in a monotone. "You may find this a strange question to ask but I'm afraid I have to ask. Do you remember anything prior to your arrival here?"
You thought about it, you don't remember how you got to the place, but when you tried to really think back prior to any of this it all appeared to be a blur to you. You found that strange, maybe you just have some amnesia, at least you remember your name.
"No, I can barely remember anything," you answered truthfully. "But I do remember my name."
"Thank you for indulging me." Decim bowed again, it was beginning to get creepy.
"Not really, the last thing I remember was sailing alone in the middle of the ocean," Ace told him a hand on his chin. "I think I was searching for something."
"Very good, thank you." Decim bowed once more. "Moving on, I will now explain some details of your current situation. This is important, please pay close attention. First, I can not provide you with any information regarding this location. However, now that you are here, I shall ask you to play a game."
"I don't see why not, sounds like fun," Ace commented. "What game?"
"As for the game selection, that will be decided upon roulette," Decim stated, a green board lowered behind him, causing you to jump at its sudden entrance. "You'll find the stakes of the game are very high, your lives in fact."
Your eyes widened, you could feel the inside of your heart dropping into fear. 'Was this guy serious?'
"That's a little extreme, don't you think?" Ace protested, frowning his brows at the bartender.
"Don't worry, this is the final point," Decim continued not acknowledging Ace's outburst. "Until the game is complete, you won't be able to leave."
"And what if we don't agree to play?"
"I'd strongly advise against it," Decim passively suggested, stepping to the side. The lights behind the bar moved to reveal a secret room. There hanging around were multiple bodies, some dismembered, but all were lifeless.
"No... no..." You felt yourself pale and starting to back away. "No- no no no!"
You spun around and slipped off the barstool, making a break for the elevator. Dashing down the hall, you came in front of the elevator and began to spam the button. You needed to get out of here, you didn't want to die.
"[Y/n]! [Y/n]..."
A hand came onto your shoulder and you glanced over to see Ace standing there, a sympathetic expression on his face. Tears formed in your eyes and you turned to him, letting yourself cry, needing comfort in your time of fear. Ace wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him, but he was equally as terrified.
You were both trapped in a place you didn't know with someone threatening you to play a game that was life or death.
Cole came to slowly, consciousness ebbing in like the tide.
It was cold, the floor beneath him hard in a vague sort of way, almost as if he were numbed.
But why would the Bounty be cold?
Cole’s eyes snapped open.
This was not the Bounty.
This was a dark room in a skyscraper, glass ceiling shattered by Cole slamming right through it.
Cole stood, noting how he didn’t feel any of the pain he’d expect to feel after a fall.
Weird.
Cole was brought out of his musing by a clatter somewhere above. His gaze snapped back up to the ceiling, eyes widening as he saw the tendrils of smoke beginning to creep in through the broken skylight.
“Shit shit shit—” Cole looked around frantically, spotting another room behind a (still intact!) glass pane.
Bingo.
Cole began to move, heedful of the smoke following behind him.
The door handle was right there—
Cole froze as a chill curled around his ankle.
Oh no.
The smoke curled around his leg, snaking up to his chest too fast for him to react—
It wasn’t doing anything.
What.
Cole reached out and poked the smoke with a finger.
It curled out towards his hand but…
Nothing.
No agony, no numbness, no turning to stone—
Oh.
Cole turned back to the door and punched it. Where before his knuckles would have stung slightly, there was nothing.
The door cracked under his punch, though, so he knew he’d hit it hard enough.
Cole grinned, the smile not quite as slight as it would have been before he’d become a ghost. “Oh hell yeah.”
It felt so good to be back to the way he should be: animated stone.
Cole threw a few experimental punches at the air, the smoke coiling around him doing absolutely nothing.
It must have been his fall through the smoke that did it.
Cole laughed. Finally! He was back to his strong and steady self, the self that his mother had crafted.
But the smoke twisting uselessly around his ankles reminded him that now was not the time to celebrate. Not with the oni still posing a threat to the realm.
Cole needed to catch up with the others and get to the monastery, and fast.
He wouldn’t be able to do that on foot.
Cole dug through his pockets. “C’mon…”
Bingo!
Cole wouldn’t be fast enough on foot, but if he could get to the Earth Driller and get it working…
The light on the key blinked, the steady hum of the driller’s engine starting to get louder in the distance.
Yeah, this could work.
+=+=+=+=+
Cole had been making his way down to the ground floor, where the Earth Driller was waiting, when it happened.
The building groaned, shifting. Cole froze, grabbing onto the nearest wall to feel out the concrete making up parts of the building.
He wasn’t an expert on architecture, and he couldn’t actually see the metal supports in the walls, nor any of the insulation—
But he was pretty sure buildings weren’t supposed to feel crooked.
That was probably not a good sign.
+=+=+=+=+
Cole had made it down to the third floor when the building shuddered, the subtle groan of metal twisting making it clear what was happening.
The ground shook, and the building shuddered again.
Cole made it five more steps down before the building collapsed.
+=+=+=+=+
Cole came to under a giant slab. A huge chunk of building, with bits of rebar sticking out one of the edges.
His legs were pinned, but he had maybe a few inches of air between the slab and his face.
Well, at least becoming stone again meant his legs were still intact.
Grunting, Cole shifted his arms to get some leverage, and shoved at the slab.
It didn’t budge.
“Okay. Okay. You can handle this,” Cole rambled, trying to at least get at the Earth Driller key. But in the confusion of the collapse he had dropped it, and it was to his left, just beyond his reach.
If he could just shift the slab enough to allow himself to move, then—
He felt the shab shift as he tried to wriggle towards the key.
It shifted the wrong way, putting even more pressure on his arm. Cole brought up his other arm to push with, but he could already hear the tell-tale crack of his arms starting to chip.
“Shit—” Cole hissed, the pain unexpected. It had never hurt when something cracked before.
Side effect of the years spent as a ghost, then a human maybe?
Either way, rather than the vague discomfort that came with cracking, Cole’s arms were racked with pain.
But he was durable, and strong, and wouldn’t let a heavy piece of building take him down. He was a golem! He was made to last!
Another spider webbing crack. Cole winced, his arms falling away from the slab.
No longer supported, the slap slid down, pinning Cole to the floor but thankfully doing nothing more.
Cole groaned. The slab was heavy, and his arms ached too much to try and move it again.
Here is a part 13 to Ira’s story. I decided to use some alternate prompts for day 4- Near Death Experience, and Trapped. The previous part to this is right here.
CW: non-human whumpee, pinned down, talk of death, blood mention, whumpee seen as an object.
- - -
He was trapped.
Heavy weights lined up and down his wings as he lay on his side. Rocks were crumbling everywhere. One hit him right above the eye and he whimpered.
The creature called out as he saw his mother in front of him.
“Ira! Ira, my baby!”
She was calling for him, arms outstretched as she was torn backwards, dragged through the stone and the dirt into the outside world. He tried to reach for her, but his limbs felt heavy. He shifted and cried out as his feathers were pulled and crushed.
“Momma!-” There was a loud rumble, a crash, and a shake of the earth- and Ira closed his eyes.
The creature stirred awake, moaning lightly as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
There was a soft rag on his forehead, it was cool and he felt his hair damp underneath. His limbs felt incredibly heavy, and his heart fluttered as he thought to his dreams. His wings- had they, were they?-
As he wiggled his feathers underneath him he breathed a sigh, they were okay. At least they seemed like it.
Ira’s eyes scanned the room. This was- this was new. It looked bright- the colors were different, and it seemed soft. So much softer than the cold bars of the cage and the cement floor. His eyes landed on a figure, sitting across the room from him, a cigar in one hand and his eyes fixated on Ira.
“Oh it’s not dead. Thank goodness.” The man stated casually. He muttered to himself as he pulled himself off of the chair. “Had me worried there for a second.”
Dead? Ira questioned. What happened?
He remembered, being tied down. And then, then they took his blood. A lot of it.
That was all he remembered before he got really cold, and then fell asleep. He had thought he had died.
The creature flinched back in shock, his heart pounding as the man drew closer. He hunched over him, and Ira curled in tighter to himself.
“Hmm. I might just have to keep you here.” Ira could smell the smoke on his breath as he spoke. “After that near death experience, I’d be foolish to trust you to anyone else.”
Ira shivered, wishing Nora was there to comfort him.
Pairings: Stucky x Reader
Summary: after coming out of medical, you deal with the fallout.
@whumptober2019 alt#10 : Nightmare
Warning: night terrors
masterlist || whumptober masterpost || part one
Cuddled up in between two furnaces in the middle of the summer would be unbearable were you not in love with the two idiots.
After ‘the incident’, however, they had become almost unbearably overprotective to the point where at least one of them would be in the same room as you at all times (or stood right outside of the bathroom if you needed to use the toilet). You couldn’t really complain though, as you’d been just as bad after Steve had returned from a mission-gone-wrong with a punctured lung and fractured skull which resulted in a 3 day hospital stay, which for supersoldiers was like a month.
A small groan escaped your lips as you were roused from sleep, jerking movements to your left alerting your brain enough to recognise someone was having a nightmare. Sitting up, you shook Bucky awake, his eyes regarding you blearily.
“Steve’s having a nightmare” you whispered, gesturing to the blond.
No other words were needed. The three of you had all seen some shit, resulting in nightmares pretty much all the time (especially from Bucky) after the resurgence of your relationship. You had all come a long way from the teenagers who snuck around Brooklyn, exchanging kisses in the dead of night.
Blinking himself awake, Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before climbing out of the bed and moving around to Steve’s side.
“Steve - you’re safe” he started, softly placing his hand on his shoulder, caressing the bare skin, “I need you to wake up for me Stevie”
You reached out to do the same, your hands running softly across his arms, trying to wake him up with gentle touches.
Watching Steve crying never got easier, and the muffled sobs he made during a nightmare were the most heart-breaking.
“Steve” Bucky said, slightly more firmly this time, brows furrowing as the blond just seemed to work himself up even more, “Steve, I need you to wake up for me now”
Steve gasped, sitting up so fast that he almost launched Bucky backwards off the bed. Sobs continued to shake him as his hands scrabbled around, blindly latching on to Bucky’s shirt to tug him back towards him, burying his face into the brunet’s neck.
“Is she okay?”
His voice was tight, wrecked from the sobs that were torn from his throat
“I’m safe, I’m okay. You got me out” you cooed, moving to encompass him in between the two of you, “You’re here with the two of us, we’re both okay”
Your hand stroked through his hair softly, pressing small kisses along the back of his shoulders as a way to ground him. Eventually Steve's crying let up, a small whimper escaping his lips as his whole body went lax in your hold.
“We’ve got you” Bucky hummed, lifting his chin up with his finger to wipe the tear tracks from his flushed cheeks, ”You’re okay Stevie”
“You wanna talk about it?”
Steve shook his head, shuffling slightly.
“Can we lay down? I just wanna be held”
His voice was small, reminiscent of the much smaller man from 40s Brooklyn. At times like these Steve wanted to feel small, to feel like the man he used to be before the serum, secure between the two of you.
“Sure thing punk” Bucky said, easing Steve back down on to the middle of the bed, “We’re not going anywhere”
As the two of you encased Steve in an embrace, limbs entangling, you whispered stories of your childhood.
Steve’s first piece of art that won an award.
The day Steve first admitted he liked boys, and Bucky flung himself at him so hard that he was scared he’d broken a bone.
Your first kiss.
When you managed to buy that piece of chocolate cake that put the rest of puddings you’d ever had to shame.
That time Mrs Hannagan from the apartment downstairs almost caught Bucky and Steve kissing after coming home from the dance hall.
Your first ‘I love yous’ as a throuple.
And for a while, reminiscing in the middle of the night, everything was alright.
hi here's a short little thing set early in their partnership (don't think too closely about when). it's pre-ship and that's all i've got to say. hope you enjoy!
She runs into Nurmi in the parking lot, and it takes her all of five seconds to realize that something is the matter with him.
“You’re shivering,” she remarks, in lieu of a greeting.
Nurmi looks at her blankly. “It’s cold out.”
“I’m not shivering, and I’m in the same cold as you.”
She reaches out a hand to touch his forehead, more on instinct than anything else, years of dealing with her childrens’ illnesses telling her what might be wrong.
He scowls, tries to swat her hand away, doesn’t quite manage it. “Leave me alone.”
He’s definitely sick.
“You’re sick.”
“I’m not.”
“Why else would you be burning up but also shivering?”
He shrugs. “Maybe you’re sick.”
“I think I would know.”
He starts walking towards the door, and she steps in front of him. He could just go around, but he doesn’t. She feels like she’s gained a victory with that.
“Why are you even here?” she asks. She’d imagine that he’d be eager to take advantage of a sick day or two, relaxing, probably ordering a fancy pasta for delivery.
“I’m not that sick. I’m fine, Karppi, really.”
She crosses her arms, stares him down. He doesn’t look fine—hence her having noticed his illness in the first place. His hair is sweaty and his skin is a sickly pale shade. His eyes are tired and slightly bloodshot.
“I don’t believe you.”
He shrugs again. “You don’t have to.”
With this he does push past her, and makes it all the way to the door before he stops in his tracks and starts coughing.
It sounds painful and harsh, and Karppi approaches him and puts a hand on his elbow. When the fit seems to be over, she says, “I really don’t believe you now.”
He looks at her, looking far more exhausted than he had a few seconds ago, and sighs in defeat. This is immediately followed by a sharp sniff. He scrubs a hand beneath his nose and just like that, acquiesces.
“Fine. Maybe I’m sick.”
“So go home.”
He looks at the ground. “I’d rather not.”
“So, what? You want to come into the station and get all of the rest of us sick, too?”
He looks back up at her, and she can tell he hadn’t actually thought of that.
“No,” he admits.
“So…”
He looks miserable, but nods. “I’ll go home.”
He begins walking back towards his car, sort of hunched over on himself, still shivering, and Sofia calls after him, partly exasperated, mostly concerned,
“I’ll come over after work, okay?”
He turns back to her, uncurls slightly. “Okay,” he calls back, his voice strained. When he continues on his way, he looks noticeably lighter.
Sofia stares after him, shakes her head slightly, and wonders when, exactly, it had happened that she’d grown so fond of him.
