do not fucking tag anyone in a post about how much you don't like their fic. like i can not believe i have to say this but that is so fucking rude and you do not have to give any of that information up. this is part of the reason why i do not rate or suggest fics anywhere!! the people who are writing these fics are doing so for fun and i would never go around telling people "yeah, i liked this part, but god the ending was so bad" or whatever the fuck. it's disrespectful and bitchy. unless they say the words "please tell me how you actually feel about this writing so i can improve/give me constructive criticism" DON'T OPEN YOUR MOUTH. if you like a fic, leave a comment. otherwise, just shut up?? and do not TAG the author in your own post talking about how much you didn't like it
summary: nya's just gotten jay back, but god, is she tired of losing the people she loves
a/n: SIGH i feel like i'm going crazy thinking about ninjago but anyways it was giving me a lot of grief so this is what came out; also this is actually a projection piece! so don't come for me on that please. + also on ao3
tags: jaya, drs4p1, hurt/comfort, but mostly comfort but lots of references to hurt hehe, that said maybe i should've picked a better preview lol my b
warnings: n/a
preview:
Jay stepped into the room and eased himself down next to her with a light grunt, before slumping all the way down. “Sheesh, I needed this.” He exhaled, and Nya watched him sink his spine into the floor. “I’m not exactly out of shape, but I’m definitely not in ninja-shape anymore.” He paused for a moment. “Not like Kai, though. He’s really slowed down.”
Nya chuckled, lightly nudging his head with her foot as soft reprimand. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not! It’s true!”
“Sure, sparky.”
Nya lay on the floor of her room, letting her back rest against the hardwood after the long day. Her eyes tracked the flecks of dust blinking by, intermittently caught in the losing glow of sunset from her window, but ever proof of how infrequently she was really here. The room was tidy, but it wasn’t clean; it was musty when she got home, so she pulled the windows open before lying down. Nya tried catching her breath, somehow still breathless even though it had been hours since dinner and things had certainly settled since then. But Nya felt like she was buzzing, adrenaline and experience making her ever too skeptical of the circumstances to settle. Things were good, then they were bad. A constant, binary ricochet that she hated being thrust between, even if this time was technically—gladly, to be clear—going up. It was what would come right after that terrified her.
He was really back, she could finally tell herself. Might still be a little slow coming to himself, but it’s really him.
Spirits, was she glad that Jay was so adamant about trying the simulation machine. Not that he needed to, because he finally trusted them all enough to weather relearning himself without those memories. But Nya felt a little selfish admitting that if the machine hadn’t worked and his memories didn’t come back, things would probably never be the same between them. They’d still be in love, sure, eventually, but the weight of Nadakhan would suddenly be hers alone, as would her recovery with and because of Jay after she merged with the sea. It would be unnerving and isolating in a way she would never really be able to explain, and they would just have to be okay with that. Should it have come to that. Thank goodness it didn't.
So there was a strange kind of anticipation prickling her skin, for things never got so good that she could just let go. It felt like she was running without putting her full body weight on her feet, afraid the earth would swallow her up if she did.
A gentle knock broke her thought train. “Nya? It’s me,” Jay mumbled through the wooden door. She sat herself up as Jay pushed the door open, messy hair short and free from the sweatband he’d worn all day. Nya’s heart skipped a little at his easy grin, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop them.
He raised an eyebrow, gaze lingering on where her hair stood up flat at the back of her head. “Comfy?” He asked.
Nya shrugged. “Better than the bed, sometimes.” She pushed herself back to lean against her bed frame, making more space for him. “Sit with me?”
Jay stepped into the room and eased himself down next to her with a light grunt, before slumping all the way down. “Sheesh, I needed this.” He exhaled, and Nya watched him sink his spine into the floor. “I’m not exactly out of shape, but I’m definitely not in ninja-shape anymore.” He paused for a moment. “Not like Kai, though. He’s really slowed down.”
Nya chuckled, lightly nudging his head with her foot as soft reprimand. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not! It’s true!”
“Sure, sparky.”
She rolled her eyes, but truthfully, having Kai and Jay’s banter back—as annoying as it could be—was one of the best things to have happened since Jay got his memories back. Jay babbled on about Kai’s recent lapses on the battlefield, coalescing selective evidence like a seasoned pro (which he was, especially as of recent, with how he was “choosing to remember” things). Whatever he was rambling on about, though, Nya had stopped listening to, still stuck in the mental tunnel she’d been digging just before.
Nya hadn’t realized all that could fit inside a human brain until she lost her own memories. It was like she was still a real person—as real as one could be merged with the sea—but was less of a self for no reason she could pinpoint. Then, when her memories came back, she felt actualized and whole. Yet, even that wasn’t as much of a revelation to her re: the depths of the mind as when Jay had his memories taken. With the former, she didn’t quite know what she had to grieve at first, amnesia giving her some strange reprieve. But to have Jay stare her down with that utter vacancy… It still gave her chills. It shook her confidence in them to the bone, even though she knew it wasn’t him. The stuff of nightmares. There was a real version of Jay that forgot her, that hated her, that hated the world enough to shatter his core desire to change it.
She hoped to never see that Jay again, the one entrenched in a crueler culture.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jay asked, scrambling back up into a seat. His hands reached up to cup her cheeks, and his thumbs carefully prodded just under her eyes, searching for the threat of tears. Nya wasn’t crying, but she didn’t think her thoughts were so visible on her face for it to be noticeable.
“I’m fine,” she started, exhaling and reaching for his wrists. She pulled his hands down and held them in her own, seated in her lap as she shifted to match his posture. “It’s just all so… good.”
The thought came to her briefly: A decade ago, when they were much younger and much less experienced in both matters of saving the world and of the heart, Jay would’ve taken a sentence like that and steamrolled forward. He would’ve agreed and babbled on, naive in a way he didn’t mean. Nya would’ve gotten annoyed and left, frustrated that he would listen but wouldn’t hear her. They would’ve fought, and it would take weeks before Jay understood what bothered her. But now, Jay squeezed her hands tighter, scooching closer.
“Too good,” he murmured. No question, just quiet understanding as he tilted his chin down to catch her drifting gaze. Nya nodded slowly.
Jay was always bringing her back. These past few years, it was her turn to return the favor, even if it took far longer than she would’ve liked. The sea and storm lines were corny more often than not, but they were poetic nonetheless and she let them slide because they were true: Call him an anchor, a lighthouse, a harbor—whatever, it didn’t matter. He’d always be home, not because she needed one but because she wanted it and his arms were always open.
“I’m not leaving, Nya,” he said, blue eyes holding her in place. She was still resistant.
“None of us ever think we will,” she replied. Nya averted his efforts to stare at the floor. “But then something happens and we give everything up because that’s what we do. We have to. It’s worth it.” She trailed off, voice growing quiet.
She meant what she said. It was always worth it, every single time. They’d all done it. Who else could? They were ninja. They never quit. They didn’t know how.
When Nya was 16, she felt much more empowered by this thought. Of course she was willing to fight or die trying if it meant keeping the whole world safe. It was an easy decision. But taking Arin, Sora, Wyldfyre, Frak, Euphrasia, and Riyu under her wing (in different capacities, of course) jolted her to the realities and burdens of their work. They were children, flippantly putting their lives on the line with little to no regard for what dying actually meant. Back then, she was a child doing the same thing, but this, now, felt so different. Theirs were lives she really would be held responsible for. She could justify her own death wish. Not theirs.
Nya and the other older ninja were easily more in their prime now than they were as teenagers. But ever since the merge, and especially since Jay came back, she felt herself more frequently imagining what a more normal life would be like. Just for fun. They’d all hang out at the karaoke bar every Friday night, casually, instead of as a freak exception after some crazy, barely-diverted world-ending fight. They’d have homes and apartments walking distance from each other. They’d have kids that didn’t go out every night searching the streets for problems to solve, kids who didn’t stumble upon mass corruption scandals and exploitation.
But Nya also got a little bored with that imaginary. She loved feeling like this duty she fulfilled was her accomplishment alone, an utter testament to her ability and dedication to the cause. The team needed her. They all needed each other, and in turn, the world needed them. It absolutely thrilledher. But as much as she loved it, every time she watched one of them die in one way or another—Zane, Cole, Lloyd, P.I.X.A.L., Kai, Jay—she was driven a little closer to the edge. She could only take so much grief. Even when they came back, it was a kind of insane surge of feelings. Unfathomable grief and joy, propelling them all through life. How many heartbreaks could a person take in a lifetime? How many heartbreaks was she willing to go through?
Jay was rubbing small circles into her palms with his thumbs, sitting in the silence with her, mulling over their fears and wants together. “Let me correct myself, then.” His breath fanned the stray hairs hanging in front of her face. “I will never, ever choose to leave you. As long as I’m me,” he added.
“I know,” Nya said, exasperated with herself. “It’s just that—something always happens to us.” She smiled, a little somber, finally looking back to him. “We never seem to get a break.”
A flash of recognition darted across Jay’s face, only seeming to startle him briefly. He paused.
“You know, I heard you say that.” His voice was soft. “Even though I was drowning.” Jay shook his head, as if he were trying to flick out water from his hair. “I was dying, and you gave up everything you knew to save me.” His brow creased, and his fingers flexed around hers.
“Sorry,” Nya sputtered. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“It’s okay, Nya. They’re not all bad.” He squeezed her hands again. “Still brought me back to you. Eventually.”
They were like the fluid versions of glass-half-full vs. glass-half-empty. The ricochets Nya felt assaulted by were always anticipating the downfall, and Jay’s were always looking toward the rise. It tempered her now, here. Not a careless optimism, but a faithful one. Reverent, even, of the process of balance and life.
Nya sighed, her head feeling heavy and finding its place on Jay’s shoulder. He shifted and maneuvered an arm behind her to wrap securely around her waist, and she felt his cheek rest atop her head just after he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
“We will handle whatever it is when it happens,” Jay said. “Trust me.” The gentle vibrations of his chest, the reassurance, went straight to Nya’s ears, pressed flush against him. It made her sleepy, feeling cozy and safe even if they were planted on the floor. Dusk was long gone, and the only light left came from the hallway through the inches around her cracked door, and the moonlight at their backs. Frogs croaked outside, and she could just barely hear Kai’s snores down the hall.
“What if,” Nya mumbled halfheartedly, eyelids drooping, “I don’t want to handle it anymore?”
Jay’s hand had been running up and down her side, soothing her ever further. He stilled, and though Jay could hear she’d already drifted off, he couldn’t leave something so delicate hanging. “Then you can give it to me,” he answered, resolute.
But Jay was tired, too. So he begged whoever would listen—the Source Dragons, the First Spinjitzu Master, the elements themselves—that there would be nothing for Nya to give. No more grief, for as long as they could help it. For the duration of their lifetimes, at least. A foolish wish, maybe, but Jay wasn’t afraid of wishing anymore. Risky business nonetheless.
xx
Nya woke up the next morning with a crick in her neck and her underside numb from sitting all night. She was still tucked under Jay, but he’d curled her deeper into him while they slept, cocooning her against the bed. The smell of rice and eggs wafted into her room, and she nudged Jay awake with her knuckles.
“C’mon, Jay,” Nya said. Jay yawned and rolled his shoulders back, stretching them out.
“Not our brightest idea to sleep like this,” he complained.
“Definitely not.”
“Do it again tomorrow?”
“Absolutely not!” Nya shoved his shoulder, laughing.
So... working on this fic. What is the reason I shall give Elain as to why she is not visiting Nesta ever?
She could potentially be respecting Nesta’s space, but I can’t necessarily have that if I start off at the intervention scene, where she’s ready to pack up her things. She could be very much insulted, but only after one blatant insult (which really isn’t an insult because it never extended beyond “you have your life, I have mine” Did she say something else???)??? Or... that she’s a snob like Feyre suggests in acosf, about how she won’t come to taverns, and she won’t go to Nesta’s slummy apartment.
I already know how Feyre is going to work in this fic... but Elain... damn. I’m having a hard time making her look good with what we’ve got.
Per a request, I’ll start putting read mores on the prompt responses going forward, since they keep getting longer - it didn’t seem necessary at first, but I’ll admit they’re stretching out now. I’m not going to go back and revise any of the ones I’ve already posted unless anyone specifically requests that I do.
