#It was like waking up to explosions from outside every hour and needing to run immediately. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feathers-in-the-night · 11 months

Text

I’m placing the snippet under a read more because it does contain mild spoilers

(its a very early scene so not any huge plot spoilers, but just in case anyone wants to read the story spoilerfree when it’s finally uoploaded)

April 27th Watchtower Morgan

“How has meditation been going? You told me last time it was helping your telekinesis stay under control, but I’m more interested in hearing about the mental and psychological benefits.”

Morgan tore her eyes away from the stunning view of space outside the window. “It’s good. It helps me stay on top of things.” She fidgeted with a curl resting loosely on her collarbone. Not because she was nervous, but because talking so openly about her vulnerabilities was still difficult for her. “I don’t get stressed because I start every day by grounding myself. It helps with keeping unwanted memories at bay too because my mind is more at peace. And I feel more in control of it.”

She redirected her eyes onto Earth, watching a storm gather in the ocean just outside of the Chilean coastline. She wondered if the League was going to be deployed to help if the weather got too dangerous.

Dinah cleared her throat, forcing Morgan to refocus. “You’re distracted.” Her sharp eyes pinned Morgan down and she found she couldn’t lie.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to lose focus. I’m just tired. I’ve been having.. nightmares.” She coughed awkwardly once and gnawed on her lower lip.

“Nightmares?”

“I’ve been having them every other night for two weeks or so now. They’re about fire.”

“Tell me a bit about them, if you want to.”

She didn’t, but Morgan knew these sessions were good for her – sharing – was good for her. Dinah had already helped her sort through a lot of stuff and Morgan trusted her enough at this point to tell her everything.

“I’m in a burning building and I keep running up the stairs to different floors. Every floor is the same except the fire seems to be getting closer with each one.” She fidgeted in her chair again. “There’s something else though. There’s this.. black shape, its undefinable, like it’s made of smoke. And it’s chasing me. Everywhere I go, it’s always behind me and it’s always getting closer. The dreams either end when the fire gets to me and I burn alive, or when the figure reaches me and consumes me.”

She chanced a look at Dinah, who was wearing a serious but not unsympathetic look. “That sounds intense.”

“It is!” Morgan kept going, feeling a strange sort of relief to have finally told someone about her nightmares. “I wake up in a cold sweat every time. My heart is pounding like it’s about to give out and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“And how do you deal with it when this happens?”

Morgan shrugged. “I just get up. There’s no point in going back to sleep – I’ve tried, it doesn’t work. I just lie in bed for hours afterwards thinking about the dream. So, I get up – I distract myself, I meditate, I go to the gym. Whatever is needed.”

Dinah nodded in approval. “Do you have any idea why you’re having these nightmares?”

Morgan shook her head. “No clue. I guess maybe the explosions at M’gann and Connor’s wedding triggered something, because they’ve been happening since then.”

“When you first came to me, you told me you used to have nightmares about your father’s death. That you were constantly dreaming about explosions and fire. Do you think this could be the same thing?”

“I – well, I guess?” Morgan frowned. She hadn’t considered that. “I suppose the explosions at the wedding might have trigged some kind of – some kind of relapse?”

Dinah nodded. “It is possible. Do you think you still have unresolved feelings or trauma related to the incident?”

“What, my father’s death?” she tried to sound casual, but her voice still got thick. “I lost a parent. And sure, he was an absent asshole, but he was still a parent. I don’t think I’ll ever fully resolve that trauma. But I think as long as I admit that and don’t try to squash down those feelings, they aren’t unhealthy.”

Dinah gave her a proud smile. “That’s very insightful.” She cocked her head slightly to the side and studied the girl briefly. “You’ve come a long way since you first approached me and asked for these sessions. I’m proud of you.”

Morgan fought down a pleased smile at the praise, but she couldn’t stop her wings from fluttering with delight. “I’ve been working hard. I realized how much energy I was wasting every day keeping my emotional shields up, how much of my anger was from unresolved traumas. You’ve helped me a lot – I’m really grateful.”

Just her being able to talk so openly and vulnerably was a testament to the therapy. She hadn’t been able to do that six months ago. Still, it was a steep learning curve, and it wasn’t without some tough battles.

“Now, tell me about the dark figure. Why do you think you’re being chased by it?”

Morgan gnawed on her lower lip again. After four months of these bi-weekly therapy sessions with Dinah, she’d gotten better at this introspection, but sometimes she still felt like she was at an exam she hadn’t been allowed to study for. “I suppose maybe the figure represents something I’m running from?”

Dinah made a thoughtful noise. “Do you have anything you’re running from, currently?”

Morgan shrugged, slumping further down into the comfy chair. “Not to my own recollection.” she feigned casualty.

“How was the wedding?”

Morgan blinked at this sudden change of topic. “It was good? I mean, aside from the way it ended.” She frowned and pointed an accusatory finger at Dinah. “Weren’t you also there, though?”

Dinah nodded. “I was. But just because we attended the same event doesn’t mean we had the same experience.”

Morgan raised a challenging eyebrow at her, feeling her internal shields twitch. What was Dinah getting at?

Mind open, Morgan.

“How is Nightwing doing?”

Her mental shields slammed into place immediately.

Mind closed.

“I’m not talking about this.” She quickly shut the conversation down before it had a chance to begin.

Dinah held up her hands in a placating way. “You said you thought the black figure represented something you were running from.” Her eyes nailed Morgan to her seat. “Morgan, you reached out to me a few weeks after your breakup with Dick, and you’ve refused to talk about it since. I assume it’s what must’ve gotten you to realize you needed therapy and yet it’s the one thing you won’t look into.”

Morgan opened her mouth to protest but Dinah had already launched her attack, and she wasn’t about to lose her footing. “Now, we’ve been talking a whole lot about stuff from your past and you’ve worked through a lot of traumas related to your father’s absence and eventual death, and dealing with an alien invasion during your first year as a superhero. Almost all those events, Nightwing was heavily implicated in. I am just worried we’re missing a big piece of the puzzle here because you refuse to even speak his name.”

This time Morgan did interject. “I can say his name,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest in defense. She felt like she’d been led into an ambush, and she was thrown completely off balance.

“Do it then.” Dinah challenged.

Morgan huffed. “This is stupid. And pointless.”

The older hero didn’t move.

She looked around the room, search for anything to focus on but Dinah’s unrelenting gaze. The longer she tried to look away, the more energy she spent avoiding this, the more she began to realize Dinah was right.

“Nightwing.” She mumbled sullenly, hating that her heart did a small jump. She tried to appear casual and unbothered. “See? I’ll even do it again: Nightwing! Or Dick, if you prefer.” her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Dinah raised a singular eyebrow. Morgan felt defiance flare up and she look back, challenge in her eyes. They sat like that for an extended moment. Eventually, the other woman sighed, probably realizing she was getting nowhere with the stubborn girl, and looked at the clock on her desk.

“It looks like the hour is up.”

Morgan got up as quickly as she could without seeming rude. Talk about great timing. “Cool. I’ll see you in two weeks? Same time?”

“Unless something comes up,” Dinah relented. They both knew the probability of one or both getting help up with superhero work was high.

Morgan was halfway out the door when Dinah spoke up again.

“Morgan?” her voice allowed for no shenanigans. Morgan halted in her escape and looked at the other hero over her shoulder.

“You will have to talk about it at some point. Nothing stays bottled up for long.”

She met Dinah’s gaze quickly, but found she had nothing to say in response. She thought about the fight she’d had with Dick the night of M’gann and Connor’s wedding, how devastated she’d been when she got home. How she’d cried in her bed for hours, letting out weeks of bottled up hurt and heartache. But she wasn’t ready to talk about any of that yet. She wasn’t ready to admit every day felt like a punishment, like leaving him had been the biggest mistake of her life. How, every day, she wondered if she should’ve tried harder, should’ve done more to get through to him before giving up.

No, she wasn’t ready to admit any of that. Not to Dinah – not even to herself.

And so, she left.

Bottle; closed.

#i hope you like <3 #i like this scene a lot. the conversation flows in a way im very pleased with #anyway itll have to partly rewritten because of some timeline stuff - it takes place before the wedding in the new version #and some other things. but i wont go into detail!

7 notes · View notes

sariahsue · 2 years

Text

These Are The Things, The Things We Lost

Chapter One

Marinette woke to the feel of her husband's hands skimming her body, around her waist, up her arms, and finally pulling her hair away from her face. Goosebumps followed his touch. Even though she was barely conscious, she snuggled into him, seeking out his warmth, and he responded by looping his arms around her and drawing her closer. She never wanted to move from this spot.

"Wake up, M'Lady." He pressed a soft kiss against her cheek. "There's an akuma."

Marinette groaned. Leave it to Hawk Moth to ruin yet another moment of domestic bliss. He seemed to be making that a priority lately.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty," Adrien said, trying to drag her with him off the side of the bed. "Time to get up."

"You get up." Eyes still closed, she flailed one arm until she found something she could grab, his pillow, and hit him in the face with it. All it earned her was a laugh and another flirty compliment. How could he be so coherent at this hour? She was so tired she hadn't even heard the phone's akuma alert go off.

Marinette finally blinked in the dark, squinting against her exhaustion. In front of her Adrien's adoring face smiled at her, so close he was almost nose to nose. A perfect kissing distance.

After so many years of using the cat miraculous, his eyes glowed faintly even when he wasn't transformed.

"Do you think if we just… refused to fight until morning that Hawk Moth would stop sending akumas outside of normal business hours?" she asked.

"Hmm," he said, running one finger over her stomach and drawing lazy circles. Marinette shivered. "Somehow I don't think that's going to work."

His fingers wandered to her side, just to the dip of her waist, and his smile became mischievous. She stumbled out of bed before the tickles came.

"Hey, come back!" he said with a laugh.

"Get out of bed. There's an akuma. We have to hurry." She reached under her nightstand for slippers, just in case they needed to detransform out there, and then for the jackets they always kept slung across the back of the rocking chair. (No children to rock in it yet, but someday…)

The bed creaked as Adrien shifted, reaching under the bed for his own shoes, and she tossed his jacket toward him. It landed with a soft thump next to him.

"Did the alert say anything about the victim?" she asked.

Adrien finished pulling his coat on and stretched. "No," he said as he walked over to her. "It's not far, though. And I can't hear anything, so probably no explosives."

"That's always good news." Marinette scanned their room quickly. Plagg and Tikki slept in the guest room with her phone. The alert would have woken them up too, and she'd expected them to phase through the wall by now.

"Hey." Adrien grabbed her from behind, leaning down so he could press his face into her shoulder, and breathing deeply into her loose hair. "G'morning."

"Morning to you too, alley cat."

The arms encircling her waist squeezed gently. "Excuse me, this alley cat is also your husband."

Marinette hummed. "Oh really?" The wedding was almost six months ago, and at this rate she didn't think he was ever going to stop bringing up that they were married at every opportunity. "I must have forgotten somehow."

"Would you like me to remind you? I have lots of photos I could show you or-"

"Maybe later. I think there's an akuma or something we have to deal with now."

He grunted but let her go as she pulled away and opened the door to the hallway.

"Tikki? Plagg?" she called into the darkness. "It's time to- Oh." The kwamis floated in from their hiding spot just outside the door. Tikki was all smiles, her antennae perky and waving. Plagg had his arms folded in disgust.

"Let's hurry, M'Lady. There's an akuma running amok." Adrien laughed at his own bad joke - as if he hadn't made the same one at least twice a month for the last eight years - and pushed aside the heavy curtain to reveal the glass balcony door. The tall panes diffused the pinpricks of light from the cityscape in the distance. It was picturesque, perfect and still. Cold air and the gentle sound of traffic seeped into the room when he pushed the door open. She could barely pick up the scent of the flowers they were growing out there.

Adrien grabbed her hand, bringing it up for a quick kiss. "Ready?"

"I'm ready for you two to stop being gross," Plagg grumbled.

"He was smiling while we were waiting in the hallway," Tikki said smugly.

Plagg stuck out his tongue. "Traitor."

Marinette didn't bother to hide her amusement as Plagg whispered something about "gooey lovesick idiots" under his breath. Years of experience had taught her that he didn't mean a word of it.

She pulled her jacket more tightly around herself as cold air pooled at her ankles. Wind whistled through the open doorway. It was almost winter.

Adrien gave her a quick hug and a peck on the head. "We'll make this quick. Then we can come back and snuggle until morning."

She grinned through their transformations. "I'll hold you to that."

"Please do!" And without another word, Chat extended his baton and flew up to their roof. Ladybug quickly followed him into the night, cold muscles stretching uncomfortably. Bed and snuggles sounded amazing right now. She landed next to her husband with an ungraceful thud.

He was turned in the opposite direction of their balcony, and it was easy to see what had caught his attention. A swirling, massive storm cloud rotated in the distance. The wind around them felt like it was all being pulled toward the vortex, moaning lowly. Faint blue-black light pulsed throughout the whole thing, reaching from the streets and high up into the sky, where it merged with the dark blanket of clouds above them. It must have swallowed several dozen city blocks.

As one, Ladybug and Chat Noir took off toward the danger.

---

Dark nights were always a struggle for Ladybug. Her night vision wasn't nearly as good as her husband's, so when her feet touched down two rooftops away from the edge of the wide cloudy pillar and he grabbed her and jumped off a few seconds later, she wasn't really that surprised.

"Where's the akuma?" She swung her head around and spotted him, ensconced in the cloud wall. Blue and black costume, with a cape fluttering behind him. Ladybug could barely make him out, even with the glow of the clouds backlighting him. He was stretching his hands toward them. They'd probably just avoided an energy beam of some kind.

Chat dropped them onto a second-story balcony but didn't let her go. A drizzle started, and the rain mixed in with the chill. She pushed into him for warmth.

"Let's make this quick," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know you hate the cold." And then he blew a raspberry and raced up the wall and onto the roof, out of her immediate reach.

The akuma screamed in rage in the background. "You two should be iced over like my heart! All will be frozen like Gale!"

"Sounds like someone has a tempestuous relationship."

Ladybug shook her head with a smile. They'd been doing this for 10 years. She'd hoped his senses of humor and timing would have improved, but no. That was her kitten through and through.

While Chat provided a cover of taunting, Ladybug surveyed what she could of Gale. Goggles that glowed, probably giving him some enhanced night vision. She would be the only one of the three at a disadvantage, then. And based on the commentary and the big, tacky broken heart symbol on his chest, they were probably dealing with a breakup or a confession gone wrong.

There wasn't much in the area to work with. This was a generic street. Lampposts. A couple flower pots. Still a few cars on the road, even this close to the akuma. The people of Paris were too desensitized for her liking.

Gale floated closer and Chat took the opportunity to jump off the roof above her and use his baton to launch himself toward their enemy. Gale shot a narrow beam of ice blue light directly at him.

Ladybug felt her stomach drop and threw her yoyo without thinking. It wrapped around the bottom of the baton and she yanked, knocking an empty pot off the balcony and onto the street below in the process. The crash was swallowed by the rushing wind. But it changed Chat's trajectory enough that he slipped underneath the beam and rolled harmlessly onto the next roof. The light hit a window, coating it with a thick layer of ice, and she thought she heard a faint, "Thanks, Lovebug!"

Before she could decide if a tactical retreat to get some power-ups would be helpful, Gale dove in her direction, black cape streaming out in a line behind him.

Ladybug braced for impact.

"Get away from my wife!" Chat Noir snarled.

Gale was only a few meters away when her husband knocked him out of the sky and they both tumbled to the ground. Gale looked dazed. Ladybug threw her yoyo down and fished Chat up to her level before leaping onto the roof above and calling for Lucky Charm. It was a rectangular mirror, about a meter long, and curved like a bow. She set it gently against the railing.

"Shooting the beams back at him, probably," Chat observed. He took a step forward, reaching to cup her face. "Are you okay?"

She leaned into his warmth while he brushed her cheek with his thumb. "Me?" she said. "I've just been standing here. How are you?"

He shrugged, dropping his hand. "As indestructible as always, M'Lady. And glad I'm not a cat-sicle right now."

"Frozen solid isn't a good look on you," she said, looking away from the hand that he'd dropped and trying not to miss his touch too much.

Later.

She turned her focus to Gale, who was rising to his feet shakily. The wind wasn't helping him. He stumbled more than once. Was there something there they could use?

"You're making that thinking face again," Chat said, leaning into her space. "It's very beautiful. Will you marry me?"

Ladybug felt her cheeks flare up in a deep blush and shoved him. She leaned over the railing and called down to the akuma. "Are you okay? I know relationships are hard when the other person-"

"No!" Gale found his footing, and he glared up at them before slowly levitating. "She did nothing wrong. I hated to turn her down. No one should have to go through pain like ours!"

"Oh, just like we used to be," Chat said happily. "Glad we're past that part."

Ladybug shuddered at the memories, but if anyone had asked she would have said it was the sudden drop in temperature.

As Gale and Chat traded a few barbs about whether or not it was better to get akumatized over it or let her go, Ladybug studied their enemy. One tiny detail she hadn't noticed before jumped out at her: a flower pinned to his lapel. It was the only part of his costume that wasn't blue or black. It pulsed a faint purple. Perfect.

She'd lost the thread of the conversation. Gale raised his hands and shot a beam straight at them before she could react. Chat had just enough time to jump in front of her and push her head down to shield her from the blast of ice, but it never came. Instead of a blue beam, it was black, a wide, sweeping void.

She reached out under Chat's arm, lassoed the akuma, and flung him back into his own stormcloud.

"Are you hurt, Chaton?" she asked. He wasn't frozen. He didn't look hurt, just like he was focusing on something in the distance.

He blinked and looked down at her, confused. "No, I don't think so." He checked himself over, twisting his wrists and shaking each foot. "Not frozen."

"That beam was different," she said. "It could have had some other effects."

"I really feel fine." He frowned. "Why are you so worried?"

Something felt off. Something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't think of how to quantify it. "It could have some delayed effects," she finally said. "Just look out for them?"

He nodded, watching the cloud wall until a disheveled and glowering Gale reemerged. "Figure out what to do with the Charm," he said. "I'll buy you some time." And then he was off.

The mirror gave her a distorted image of the roof around her, adding to her gnawing uncertainty that something was wrong. The sooner they finished this fight, the sooner she could set everything back to normal, so she picked up the Charm and started looking around.

Turning the beams back on Gale was too straightforward, and they would only get one chance. If they got the black instead of blue, they would waste the element of surprise. So what else was around that she could use?

A car screamed around around the corner as Gale chased behind it, trying to hit its wheels and freeze it in place.

Perfect.

Ladybug leaped down to the street, cradling the mirror. She'd have to be in just the right spot to get the angle she needed. Where was Chat?

He leapt into her view, delivered an overhand blow that knocked the akuma off his feet, and then turned tail and ran when Gale popped up from a graceful roll, murder in his eyes. Chat yelped as a blue beam narrowly missed the tips of his ears. Ladybug flinched but stopped herself from calling out to him. She couldn't give away her position.

Most of the traffic had been coming from the north, so she headed up the street, keeping an ear out for the hum of an approaching engine and an eye out for her often hapless husband – who just happened to be sticking his tongue out at a supervillain, his eyes sparkling with joy. She could see it even from half the street away. He looked okay, and that eased a little of the worry she had about him. Later she would have to thoroughly look him over and make sure–

Ladybug ran into a lamppost.

The mirror slipped out of her hands and fell toward the cement sidewalk. She scrambled to catch it, knees buckling with the speed with which she dropped to the ground. She hadn't realized that Gale had been aiming at her until she felt a rush of cool air wrap around her and was temporarily blinded by a dark void, empty as a pit.

The lights of the surrounding buildings were the first things she saw, like the pinpricks of stars, before her vision zoomed back into view. She blinked. Nothing felt wrong. She wasn't injured. And she had managed to save the mirror.

Gale was flying toward her, her partner was hot on his tail, and a car was rounding the corner. Ladybug raised the mirror to waist height, using it to bend the headlights' beams directly into Gale's face. His straight flight path twisted and curled until he painfully bellyflopped in the middle of the street. Chat Noir landed gracefully beside him, pinning him to the ground with his staff.

"No," Ladybug commanded. "Get the flower. It's on his lapel."

Her partner gave a quick nod and flipped Gale over. Ashen flower dust was all that was left a few seconds later. The mirror was heavy, but with her enhanced strength, it was easy to fling it into the air and set everything to rights again. The wind died down, leaving only a faint rustling in the leaves. The clouds parted instantly, leaving a perfectly clear night. No hint that anything strange had happened here just a few minutes before. Ladybug helped a slender brunette man to his feet. His face was kind, and his smile was sheepish.

More flashes of blue bounced off the buildings around them, sending her into a defensive stance, but they were only police lights.

Officer Roger was a familiar sight, and his thanks were familiar but no less genuine even after all the years. She and her partner were left alone in the middle of the street five minutes after the fight ended, and the sliver of uneasiness started to creep back in. It was too still. Everything felt empty, like she was back in the void beam.

"I'm going home," her partner announced.

And because it was cold and she was tired and she probably wasn't going to find any answers by the side of the road at three in the morning, she followed him. Bed would fix most of her problems right now, and everything else could wait until morning.

She followed him through the window and transformed back without a word. The rocking chair moved only slightly when she flung her jacket back onto it. She stretched, rubbed her eyes, and walked toward her bed. As she reached to pull the blanket up, she looked down, surprised to see that Adrien was already lying there, and her stomach curled with uneasiness. She shouldn't be climbing into bed with him. It felt so wrong.

He felt like a stranger.

And that was the final thought that sent her heart and thoughts racing.

Adrien was staring up at the ceiling like his life had ended. "What did that black beam do?"

Marinette slipped into bed, lying stiffly next to him, far enough away for another person to fit between them. She didn't want to voice her thoughts. Didn't want to think that she hadn't purified the akuma properly. Didn't want it to be real. She shut her eyes against the darkness of their room. "It's probably just a weird aftereffect," she whispered. "It'll be gone by morning."

The black pushed against her eyelids and they flew open again. The bed frame creaked as Adrien flung the blankets off and stood. "I'm sleeping on the couch."

"What?"

"It'll be gone by morning, right?" He grabbed his pillow. "I'll be fine for one night."

"Oh." She knew should protest. This was his bed as much as hers. They could share without feeling weird about it.

But she did feel weird about it. And she didn't want him to stay. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Marinette breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she found herself finally alone in her room. She started to stretch out before she remembered that she should probably feel bad about having the whole bed to herself when someone she'd loved for a decade was sleeping on the couch. She curled up into a ball instead, and didn't get much sleep.

The void had settled inside of them.

---

Author’s note: Hey! I'm back with a new story! And it's a collab too! @sketchy-panda will be drawing some art for it! I’ll be linking/reblogging it when she posts. :D

(I give this story a T rating, which is probably generous. It's darker than I normally write and therefore feels more mature, but there won't be a ton of blood or swearing. Just so you know.)

@tbehartoo

#ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #miraculous fanfic

59 notes · View notes

spiritlessatlas · 1 year

Text

Monster Horror

CharacterxReader

Word count: 1,244

It's a late night and you've decided to stay up late studying for college finals while you had the news on as background noise. As you're beginning to zone out and fall asleep here people are running in the hallways, you compose yourself and get up to check the commotion going on in the halla putting your shoes on and grabbing your phone.

As people are running by your room you stop one and ask "What's going on? Why is everyone in such a rush?"

The girl that stopped looked at you confused "Didn't you get the email? We have an emergency meeting in the auditorium. Everyone is supposed to get there as soon as possible. There was a murder on campus not too far from here." She said as she jogged off to catch up with her friend.

You stand there and contemplate if it's worth going or if you could be filled in later from your best friend Jess. You decide to go and see what the announcement was. As you step outside the dorm room doors to make your way to the auditorium the night air was frigid and the wind was piercing cold. You covered your face as best you can with the little jacket you could spare. As you get closer to the auditorium you spot your friend group and briskly walk to them.

"Hey Y/N where have you been?! We've been trying to reach you since finding out that this happened!!" Jess said as she hugged you tight as she was worried bout you , but mostly because she was freezing and needed the quick warmth.

"Sorry.. I was studying and must've fallen asleep sometime during it only to be awoken by a stompede running by the dorm room.." you say as you wrap your arms around her rubbing her back to warm her up. "Let's go inside. It's cold and I wanna know what the hell we are gathering up for this late at night for."

As y'all make your way into the auditorium there's police, sheriffs,crying girls from the person's friend group, almost every news outlet in the town was there as well as a wailing mom and a tearful eyed man who must've been an important figure of the school who you assumed were parents of the person who was killed. Y'all get seated near the front as y'all were the few of the last people getting filed into the space. Everyone was talking when the mic buzzed on and the dean, the guy who was holding the wailing woman started talking trying to get everyone to calm down and quiet so the police could talk and they can go over details that can be released to the public. As everyone quieted down and the mic was handed off to the sheriff he was definitely choked up about the situation because he was close to the family and as well as an alumni of the school.

The sheriff went over details when you felt the back of your neck get goosebumps and the hairs on your arm start to raise. You shook this off as it being cold but noticed everyone was noticing it and was experiencing the same thing.

"What's going on?" "Do you feel that?" You kept hearing being murmured from all different parts of the auditorium. The sheriff shushed everyone and told us that it was probably nothing and it was just our nerves and to let him finish. As he finished up the lights quickly went out and there was a loud explosion coming from down the hall before the school heard screaming coming from the same direction. As the police went to go investigate you snuck off behind them to go 'Help', as you entered the hallway behind them letting your distance you felt something hard make contact with the back of your head before you could even hear footsteps approaching you.

You wake up finally after what feels like a few hours. You're groggy and now face a sizable bump on the back of your head along with some dried blood. Your vision was getting used to the bright light over head but the darkness all around.

"Hello?" You say struggling to get out of the restraints that are wrapped around both your wrists and ankles. You let out a cry that echoes down the corridor. Your fear skyrockets as you try and figure out how to escape. Out of the corner of your eye you see a shadow turn the corner and make its way towards you, you freeze for a second

"H-Hello? Can you call 911 for me please??" You say as your voice is shaking.

"Now why would I do that y/n? This wouldn't be as fun as the last time." The person says you as it's walking closer to you.

You started trembling 'last time??' Was there a last time? When did this happen before?? Your mind is racing you don't even realize the this person has made it to you just standing there watching you tremble in your clothes ready to start crying.

"You finished now y/n? We have some work to do.." they said with a low growl to their voice. They step out of the shadows and it was a man who you only saw walking into the local pub you work at and the convenience store down the strip mall for a pack of smokes.

"You're that guy from the pub.. why are you doing this?? What kind of sick game is this??" You say spitting in his face.

He chuckles and smiles grabbing a handkerchief off of his back pocket wiping his face before looking back at you with deep black eyes growling "You always make me laugh cause this is how it always starts.."

You felt the blood drain from your face as you realized this is the same monster from your younger years coming back to terrorize you. The 'Boogeyman' you called him, yet you knew he was much more than that and even more dangerous than that.

"W-why do you keep doing this?" You shakily say.

"To have some fun with you.. Now that person they found.. I thought it was you.. she smelled exactly like you but when I realized she wasn't.. I had to kill her.. she knew too much of our game Y/N.. I couldn't let her in on our fun now can I Y/N? So what do you say? Let's continue?"

You gulped and gasped for air trying to hold back a sob. "I-I.. I don't think so.. I don't like this game anymore.. I don't want to be here Micheal.."

The man chuckled and gave you a gnarly grin showing all of his devilish teeth.. "So you still remember my name huh? That's what I like to hear Y/N. Now come on.. we got some work to do.. you'll never outrun your fate y/n. I'm bound to you. Bound to always find you and drag you right back now let's go.. you've been gone for too long and we have lots to work on shall we." He grinned as his eyes turned dark blood red picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder still bound by your hands and feet walking off into the darkness opening a door and just beyond a dark and fiery escape into the underworld.

#fanfiction #tumblr fanfic #active fanfic #fanfic writing #wattpad fanfiction #fanfic #monster horror #monster fanfic #Spotify

1 note · View note

homesickgoodbyes · 2 years

Text

headcanons about VALORANT agents pt. 2 (i think)

most agents share clothes

jett and neon are (relatively) the same size in most clothes, so they tend to share

phoenix, yoru, and jett all share clothes, mostly for pajamas/staying in one of their rooms all day

skye shares clothes with yoru, raze, and kj which has lead the latter two to wear something of yoru’s after they raid skye’s closet

cypher has worn something other than his usual stuff exactly 1 time. his normal shirt and all that stuff got absolutely ruined so he had to wear something else except he didn’t have anything else so sova let him borrow one of his long sleeved shirts

sage and viper share clothes, mostly causal stuff

kj, viper, sage, sova, omen, and neon all have jackets/shirts of brims (they’re super oversized on everyone, including sova and omen. omen doesn’t wear his often, but they’ve been seen wearing it)

phoenix has a coat/jacket/hoodie that he “stole“ from sova (sova let him steal it) and it becomes a comfort item of sorts

the agents are in some way nd (neurodivergent) or have some funky stuff goin on in their head

phoenix and neon have adhd and dyslexia

yoru, sage, skye, cypher, and astra all have anxiety

kj has depression, anxiety, and autism

brim, viper, omen, KAY/O, reyna, and sova all have ptsd and depression

sova, jett, and raze have adhd and anxiety

chamber has depression and anxiety (maybe dyslexia too? not sure)

most agents have some form of ptsd/anxiety from all the fighting and missions

fade has ptsd, depression, and anxiety (mayhaps adhd or autism too)

all of the agents have gotten nightmares

viper, brim, sage, reyna, yoru, breach, and chamber all train after they wake up from nightmares

kj and raze will go down to their labs where skye will find them and bring them to her room for cuddle times

phoenix, yoru, and jett seek each other out to just be around them, to make sure they’re safe

astra, skye, neon, and cypher have all been found making different types of comfort foods at early hours of the morning

sova has trained with viper after a nightmare before, usually ending after they both vent about the stress of the Protocol

omen and KAY/O don’t really sleep, but they've been terrified that they didn’t save someone (or something along those lines) and had to be around them to know that they are safe (usually these people are brim, sage, viper, and sova)

sometimes after neon wakes up from a nightmare, it’s really close to when skye goes on her morning run so they’ll go together

fade never sleeps to prevent seeing her nightmares so she basically lives and runs on coffee

kj and raze like building things/gadgets for people

raze will usually come up with the idea, or and exaggerated version of it, while kj makes the plans and puts the base of it together

raze will do the outer layers/the outside and (with the help of skye occasionally) decorate it

they made training versions of some weapons so the agents could go against each other and not get super hurt (before MAX bot)

skye likes to sit in the lab with them when she needs rest (she prefers to be outside in the garden but sometimes she wants to hangout with her techie besties)

kj came up with the training room but raze adds her own personal touches every once in a while

pranks

phoenix and jett LOVE pranking people (mostly yoru)

all their pranks are harmless and cause minimal damage (the couch has been replaced several times)

when raze joins/finds out about the pranks they get so much more messy and brim has to outlaw explosions inside (he’s tired)

raze then recruits kj, skye, and breach and soon there’s a prank war

the prank war is unspoken, brim makes rules that vaguely prohibit things but that’s as close to acknowledging it that anyones ever gotten

the teams were created naturally, the leaders being phoenix and jett vs raze

phoenix and jett have KAY/O, sova, and neon

raze has kj, skye, breach, and astra

everyone else can be recruited onto either of the teams and once you’ve participated in a prank, you’re in the war

cypher ends up on raze’s team after he helps kj with a trap to get phoenix and sova

anytime viper, sage, or brim see anything that looks sus they walk the opposite direction because somehow the rules are known by everyone

reyna ends up on raze’s team too after she finds out KAY/O is on the other one

chamber is on his own team where he just places his slow traps in hidden places and messes with everyone

yoru gets dragged into it after he messes with skye one day and as soon as phoenix and jett find out they drag him onto their team

yoru had been betting on which team was going to win with viper (he was winning and after he join p&j viper considered joining raze to get back at him)

no one even looks at fade after she joins and they try to avoid getting her involved in the prank war at all costs

here are some more VALORANT agent headcanons!! i started writing all these down before fade was announced and we knew a lot about her but i added her into some parts :D

anyway i’d just like to say thank you so much for loving all the headcanon posts ive made so far, it really means a lot!!!

195 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 3 years

Note

Imagine Naoya coming home a little bruised and is staggering. Forgetting etiquette and manners, you run towards him and helps him then POOF, Naoya turns into a child.

Getting Shoko to check him up and cue to Gojo laughing his ass off at Naoya's state to which you were a little irritated—no, you were ready to break Gojo's legs if it weren't for his infinity.

Maybe an hour later or the next day, little Naoya wakes up. To your surprise, he's so cute and innocent, staring at you with wide eyes, looking so lost.

crying. yes my heart is soft, i am in love. thank you so much for this, i really loved writing it and writing naoya always comforts me. thank you for making my day 💕

# soft naoya hours

# part of the trophy wife collection

Three hours. That’s how much time has passed since Naoya promised he’d come home. It had been three dreadful hours, and your husband still wasn’t home.

The servants have grown weary of watching you pace back and forth, your perfectly manicured nails chipped down from nibbling on it too much. He’ll be fine, they reassured, it’s Naoya-sama, he’ll come home safely. It’s not that you didn’t trust in his abilities – hell, you experienced his skills in speed and strength firsthand way too many times in bed before to know he’ll come out mostly unscathed – but he promised he’d be home three hours ago, and your husband never broke his promises.

Naoya himself knew better than not to keep his word. With you as his wife, he’s not worried you’ll nag or give him the cold shoulder should he come late since you’re perfectly content being submissive and meek, but the way you worry for him.

You always fret so much for him – not because he’s not capable of taking care of himself – but because you can’t handle the thought of losing him that if anything happens to him, you’ll quickly get rid of your trophy wife title in the blink of an eye and release the powers you’ve kept dormant since your marriage. Safe to say, you’re always so worried for him that he feels bad about it. It would’ve been better if you screamed at him at least once, but you’re too quiet, too gentle, that your perturbation manifests in anxious glances, endless pouting, and cold, trembling hands that he doesn’t have it in himself to make you worry any further.

But if such was the case, where was he?

The storm is unforgiving outside. Thunder erupts and claps even at the sturdy roofs of the Zen’in Estate, the lights blinking every now and then with each roar that wouldn’t simmer down to pit-pattering murmurs. Every now and then, lightning would illuminate the gardens outside, and still, not a sight of Naoya.

A few minutes later, just when you’re quite sure you’ve dug deep into the floorings from your endless pacing, your husband appears.

Bruises littered his face and neck, staggering forwards as he clutches his bicep. His feline eyes run across the room for a moment, the servants shock still upon seeing their master heavily wounded – and then there’s you.

He feels you before he sees you. Setting aside all etiquettes and manners drilled into your head that is becoming of the clan head’s wife, you lunge yourself into his arms. His pained groans and whimpers are heard, verbal protests absent. Softly, Naoya buries his cut cheeks into the crook of your neck as you quite literally lose it and cry as you pull him closer, almost muted whispers sorry I’m late disappearing into your silken robes.

You shake your head and fret over him once more, gesturing to the servants to get him a towel, call the healers and just do something. At your sudden commands, the servants come back to life and rush in all directions. Naoya begins to breathe heavily the further he weakens and you try to steady him, his eyes drooping close when – POOF!

Your husband shrunk.

Arms frozen in the air in the shape of Naoya’s figure, you stare wide-eyed onto the now crying child below you.

Blood and bruises are still matted on his skin, his clothes, his hair – and he’s peering up at you, small, chubby arms extended as his sobs grow louder.

“Oh, baby,” you coo and pick him up, not wasting another minute before you dial Shoko, cradling the tiny, vulnerable human that is now clinging to your robes like his life depended on it.

Unsurprisingly, Naoya hates it.

The moment Shoko arrives – along with goddamn Gojo Satoru who’s been taking pictures of a hissing red-cheeked Naoya, his chaotic howling painting the walls of the infirmary – Naoya refuses to leave your side. He doesn’t even want to be set down on the reclining bed where Shoko is supposed to take a look at him. He bares his tiny fangs to the healer at all times, glaring heatedly at the white-haired sorcerer behind you.

You’re strong – you know you are – and breaking Satoru’s legs really wouldn’t be difficult. But as if sensing your hostility – which is always expected every time people even looked at Naoya wrongly – the idiot (who wasn’t so stupid right now) had activated his Infinity.

“I can’t undo it,” Shoko announces with a frown, “He must’ve picked up the curse somewhere when he weakened, but I’ve already healed his previous injuries. The stress probably let the curse manifest as well. It should wear off soon enough if he’s feeling better.”

“So he’ll turn back to normal?”

“Yes, of course,” Shoko’s smirk was mysterious. “With you as his wife, I’m sure he’ll revert back to normal quickly. Just keep taking care of him. He needs it now more than ever.”

The pair leaves not long afterwards, though not without Satoru forwarding you images of a young Naoya whose wide eyes were crystallized with annoyed tears. You hate to admit it, but he’s really adorable. That’s not your main focus though, and you immediately retreat back to your room where you wrap Naoya around your coats before settling him on the pillows.

His cheeks are round and glistening with tears, lips pouty and chubby fingers clutching your sleeves. It’s so rare to see him this vulnerable, so open, that your heart melts.

You scoot closer to him and pat his back as you sing lullabies, your lips hovering just about the soft tuft of blond hair. He yelps when another set of thunder booms like an explosion and he cries, head buried in your chest as he listens to the lulling sound of your heartbeat. It breaks your heart that he’s this unguarded, so exposed to everything that you do everything you can to comfort him, wiping his tears away with the pads of your thumb.

Singing a little louder to hopefully silence the storm, you let his cries dwindle down, the grip on your clothes loosening as he slowly falls into slumber.

“You’re safe, Naoya,” you promise, “I’ll never let anything happen to you. You’re safe now.”

The exhaustion of today’s events finally catches up to you, and it doesn’t take long before your eyes are falling as well. You dream of nothing that night, only stirring every now and then in the dead hours of the night to make sure you’re not crushing him with your weight (you’re a messy sleeper.) Thankfully, he’s fast asleep, breathing evenly and cheeks bouncing every time he huffed out from whatever he’s witnessing in dreamland.

You wake up hours later when you’re pulled into a warm, solid chest. Large, calloused hands brush over your exposed collarbones from when your clothes had ridden down in your sleep, and you freeze in his arms, about to turn and stir, to litter him with kisses but Naoya merely cages you in his arms.

“Naoya,” you croak out, almost shyly since you’re squished between his muscles that are somehow still so flawless despite his scars. “Your breakfast…let me prepare it for you. You need to heal.”

“Just a little bit longer,” his deep, morning husky voice resonates through the tranquility of the morning, and he pulls you closer with his bicep before he finally lets you pull away, his eyes nothing but soft and adoring as he smiles at you. “Let me be with you a little longer.”

You don’t know why you cried, but it’s definitely tears of happiness as you playfully pound a fist to his chest. “Silly. I’m not going anywhere. ‘Til death do us part, remember?”

“Hmm,” he nods once, “I’m not going anywhere either. And even if I leave for a bit to save the world, I’ll always find my way back home to you.”

#naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin #naoya x reader fluff #naoya zenin x reader fluff #naoya zenin fluff #naoya x reader imagines #naoya x reader scenarios #naoya zenin x reader imagines #naoya zenin x reader scenarios #naoya zenin imagines #naoya zenin scenarios #naoya best husband 💕#ugh i've been feeling sad but this made me feel better tysm #asks with naoya's trophy wife #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines

873 notes · View notes

jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

Aliit Be Cuur

Pairings: Mando x Reader

Summary: While waiting in the hospital in Mos Pelgo after you were inured in the attack on the Krayt Dragon, Mando accidentally learns some life changing information for the both of you. You’re pregnant.

Warnings: Description of injuries, Pregnancy, Talk about miscarriage, Mando sees a sonogram-like image of reader’s uterus while she’s unconscious, general discussion of pregnancy while reader is unconscious and unaware, made up Star Wars level medical equipment

Word Count: 2800

Read Part 2 Here!

________________________________________

Watching you lay unconscious, body littered in cuts and burns, had to be the most terrifying thing Mando had ever experienced, and that was coming from a man that had seen some horrific things in his life. It was his fault you were hurt. If only his plan to kill the Krayt Dragon had gone as it was supposed to, you wouldn’t be in this position. This was supposed to be what he was good at. Killing. Sure, he killed the dragon, but at what cost?

When the initial plan of luring out the dragon and detonating the explosive just at his weak spot under his belly had gone south, he knew he had to think of something else. He could not leave the Mandalorian armor with Cobb Vanth. He needed it back.

The plan to use the bantha as bait had come to him quickly but he should have known better than to not tell you what he was doing. There was just no time. Everything had happened so fast. After months of travelling together, he’d hoped that maybe by some miracle, you could read his mind and know that everything was going to be okay when he allowed the dragon to swallow him with the bantha.

You were with the villagers and Tusken Raiders, struggling to fix the devices you’d built to throw the harpoons so you’d have a fighting chance. Being so caught up in your own tasks, sweat beading on your forehead from the heat and pressure, you hadn’t known Mando had strapped explosives to the bantha and was using it as bait. A loud screeching roar from the dragon ripped your attention away from the trying to kick a piece of wood back into place just in time to see the dragon’s mouth open, massive teeth bared, as it plunged down, straight on top of Mando and the bantha.

You screamed in horror, running towards the beast, “MANDO!” About halfway there from your post, you whipped out your blaster and shot at the beast as it dove back into the sand. The lasers were useless and you knew that but it was the only thing you could think of to do. Your legs fumbled to a halt, the realization that Mando was really gone actually hitting you.

But then something else hit you.

There was a loud explosion and a wave of fire, rocks, sand, and dragon flesh hit you, throwing your body back. The last thing you saw was the wave of orange and red coming at you before everything went black.

Just as planned, Mando had managed to escape the beast’s clutches before the explosion but suddenly regretted every decision he’d ever made when he saw the little figure of your body running towards where you assumed Mando to be. Even from dozens of feet in the air, he knew it was you. He couldn’t imagine anyone else there willing to run straight at the monster to try and save him. The bombs were sure to detonate any second but by the time he’d noticed you, it was too late. The bomb detonated with a massive wave of heat and debris.

He watched in horror as your body flew back at least twenty feet before sliding another fifteen across the sand after the impact. Time seemed to stop around him as he jetted to you in less than a few seconds. He couldn’t breathe, fear that he had caused your death choking his airways. “Y/N!” He yelled, landing harshly on his feet right beside you before falling to his knees. You were lying face down, eyes closed. “Y/N, talk to me.” Mando looked over your body and, by some miracle, there didn’t appear to be any broken bones, at least not any that looked immediately disfiguring. With a nearly effortless nudge, he rolled your body over. Your clothes had been ripped and/ or singed in many places. Multiple large holes in your pants revealed reddening burns and blood dripping from sand scraped skin. Your shirt was torn in multiple places, the left strap of your shirt torn so severely it could barely count as a sleeve. The side of your face that was on the sand was also scraped up, thankfully not too deep, but enough to cause bleeding.

Now the two of you were in the little hospital in Mos Pelga, along with the rest of those who'd been injured in the attack. You slept now, bandages covering large portions of you body that was now largely exposed. They had had to strip you down to your underwear to reach all the wounds but had wrapped your chest in wrappings in place of a bra for the sake of your privacy. Mando had pulled his cape over the majority of your body, knowing you'd be upset if you were to wake up practically naked in front of everyone.

He hadn't left your side since the explosion. He carried you to the infirmary. He laid you down on the cot. He watched as both human nurses and medic droids worked to patch you up and take blood for tests. They had told Mando that they wouldn’t know anything for sure until the tests came back. Even with the bacta that they’d lathered on you, it would take time for it to work and there was a possibility for further damage that they couldn’t see on the outside.

The child had been sleeping in his little cot, sealed up safely inside the levitating metal object. Mando had just been sitting beside you on a crate, leaning forward on his knees. This was his fault. He should have known you’d run in. He should have known that something like this could happen.

“Mandalorian.” A robotic voice gently called for Mando’s attention.

He looked up at the awkwardly proportioned grey medic droid who stood on the opposite side of the bed. “Is she going to be okay?”

The droid spoke again, its body shifting unnecessarily to emphasize some of its words, “Patient 728, also known as Y/N. Female. Age: (Y/A). 2nd degree burns on the abdomen, arms, and legs. Superficial graze abrasions on the face, neck, arms, hands, abdomen, and legs. Bruising on face, back, hips, and legs. Probability of death: 7%. No damage to the fetus. Probability of miscarriage: 19%.”

Mando found a hard time finding any solace in the words of a droid. When a young male nurse walked up beside the droid, Mando immediately turned his attention to him.

“It’s a miracle the baby survived unharmed. I’ve seen much less cause a miscarriage.” The nurse mused, flipping through the clipboard in his hands.

Mando stood up, brows furrowed beneath the helmet, “That must be someone else’s chart.”

The nurse flipped back to the front page, “Patient 728? Y/N L/N?” The young man confirmed.

“Yes.”

He shook his head, “Nope, this is hers.”

Mando gestured to you, “There must have been a mistake. She’s not pregnant.”

The young nurse looked at the beskar helmet that he was actually slightly taller than and swallowed hard, “I’m sorry. I assumed that you were the father. If not, this is confidential information that I can’t share with you.” It was obvious that the man was afraid to stand up to a Mandalorian, surely hundreds of stories of their superior killing ability running through his head. Nonetheless, he held fast to what was right.

Mando’s head was reeling and all he wanted was to run and take off the helmet and take actual, non-filtered breaths. Instead, he was wide eyed and silent as thoughts ran through his head a million lightyears an hour. The beskar betrayed none of his emotions. To the rest of the world, he appeared frozen, standing strong and staring right at the nurse when in reality Mando had zoned out somewhere off to the side.

If you were pregnant, the baby had to be his. For the last few months, the two of you had had an unofficial relationship of sorts. Nothing was ever said, no official labels, but the two of you behaved like any other couple, or at least a much less touchy-feely version of one. After a night of confessions brought on by an unrelated argument, it had become an unspoken truth that you were only taken by each other. You were his riduur, no doubt, and, as far as he knew, he was yours. You would never lay with another man as long as you and Mando were together, that much he was sure of.

“If she’s pregnant, I am the father.” His voice was calm as always but he thanked the modulator for the slight distortion. If it hadn’t been there, he would have sounded shaky.

The nurse sighed, choosing to believe him because he really didn’t see much use in lying over something like this. He flipped to the next page on his chart and walked over to stand beside Mando, pointing at some numbers that meant nothing to him. “hCG is a hormone that’s created in the placenta and is only present in pregnant women. According to her levels, I’d say she’s about eight weeks.” He paused for a moment, allowing time for the new information to sink in. “You really didn’t know?”

“If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have let her fight the Krayt Dragon.” Mando snapped, almost angry at the mere suggestion that he would put his own child in that sort of danger.

The nurse put his hand up in defense before continuing, “Do you think she knows?”

Mando shook his head. He believed that you still would have jumped into battle even if you had known, at least from a distance. It was just who you were. But he really didn’t think you had any idea that you were pregnant. Mando had been trained to read people his entire life and surely such news would have brought about some change in your demeanor. Mando hadn’t noticed any change in your behavior. Besides, he would like to believe that you would have told him if you knew.

He couldn’t believe this. How were you pregnant? Okay, well he knew how you could have possibly gotten pregnant but the two of you had always tried to be as safe as you could to avoid this exact scenario. Neither of you were in a position for children, the Child being a special circumstance. Your life was full of danger and violence. How could Mando protect you for an entire nine months while pregnant and then for the rest of forever, while also protecting the Child against what felt like an entire galaxy that wanted him at any cost?

“Do you want to see?” The nurse’s voice brought Mando back to the present and his helmet tilted in curiosity.

“See what?”

“The baby. I need to do a scan to ensure that it's still doing alright. You can see the fetus on the screen while you scan.” He set the clipboard at the foot of your bed and procured a moderately sized glass panel with a metal border that he’d had pinned between his arm and side while he spoke to Mando.

With a few taps on the glass, bright blue words and images appeared. He tapped on one selection and the middle of the screen cleared, aside from a thin column on the right hand side that had stats and vitals. “See, if you put anything under this, it will show you an interior view of the body. This mode shows organs and blood vessels and stuff like that. See?” The nurse put his hand under the glass panel. The screen showed a light blue version of his hand but instead of skin and nails, it clearly showed the lines of his muscles and the veins that overlapped them clearly.

Politely as he could, he pulled the cape that had been draped over you down just enough to expose your lower belly, stopping just above the hemline of your underwear. The only thing indicating that you were even alive at this point was the deep inhale you took, drawing both Mando’s and the nurse’s attention. It was the only time Mando hoped that you weren’t waking up. He had no idea how to explain this new situation to you. Hell, he was still having a hard time understanding it for himself. Thankfully, a deep breath was all it was though. You were still asleep.

The nurse moved the glass panel over your lower stomach, just about where your belly button was, and the image began to form on the screen as he adjusted a few things. Mando’s helmet tilted forward as he leaned over to see the image.

A nearly perfect view of your reproductive system appeared as a blue digital image. Mando felt uncomfortable looking at the image, feeling like he was violating you in some way. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at this without your permission but then the nurse zoomed in on your uterus to the point where the only thing that could really be seen was a little being.

Mando’s first thought was that it looked like a little alien. There was an identifiable head that appeared to be looking down and the cord that was attached to you through its belly. The rest of the body was curled into a fetal position.

The nurse tapped something on the screen and there was a rapid thudding sound that emanated from the device.

“Is that the heartbeat?” Mando asked, knowing that the answer was probably obvious. For someone who was used to working under pressure, he felt like his brain was only receiving radio static.

“Mhm, nice and strong.” The nurse said with a warm smile. He tapped a few notes onto the board and then turned it off, the blue image disappearing and the amplified heartbeat ceasing.

Mando couldn't believe this was happening. How could you not know you were pregnant? He was no expert on the female body, aside from the basics, but weren't you supposed to be throwing up or missing periods or something? He couldn't wrap his head around how you were eight weeks along with seemingly no clue of your condition.

"Look, I can see that clearly this was something unexpected. I don't know if this is something you want to tell her or want me to, but either way, there are some conversations you two need to have." The nurse told Mando matter-of-factly while gathering the few things he’d brought over before leaving.

Mando shifted on his feet and reached down to pull his cape back up over your torso so you wouldn’t be cold and exposed, though it was mostly for the second reason. It was next to impossible to be cold on Tatooine, at least during the day. That was when he noticed the small, barely there bump on your lower stomach. It was such a slight variation from its normal size that he never would have noticed it had he not just learned about the life now growing inside you. It was so slight that he imagined you probably would have just attributed it to bloating perhaps, since you were unaware as well, considering all the less-than-pleasant food you both came across in your work.

Part of him wanted to place his hands over the ever-so-slight swell of your belly, just to see if by some chance he could feel anything. Mando decided against it, shaking his helmet at himself with a heavy sigh. He would wait until you woke up and the two of you had a chance to discuss everything before he did anything relating to the baby.

Gently, he pulled the cape back up over your body and sat down on the crate again, leaning his elbows on his knees where he sat with his thoughts for several minutes in a zoned out daze. His attention was only broken by the cooing from the Child’s metal pram. Mando tapped on the controls on his arm, opening the pram, and removing the little green baby who was now wide awake.

“Hey, buddy.” Mando breathed out, watching as the baby stretched his arms out to you, “I know, I know. She’ll wake up soon.”

The Child looked up at Mando sadly before snuggling down onto his lap, sitting there comfortably. The weight of such a small being had become comfortable and normal for Mando now after all this time with him. He was, by Creed, his son now. Mando was already a father. You had stepped up as a mother for the young child. So why did this feel different?

Mando imagined the new future, assuming you had decided to stay with him and care for the baby together. He had every intention of raising the baby with you and would do whatever it took to keep the two of you safe. He loved you more than he knew was possible to love another person and the last thing he wanted was to leave. Mando hoped that, one day, you would be officially bound by riduurok. Once the Alor approved it, Mando’s clan of two would become an aliit be cuur. Clan of four.

#mando x y/n #the mandolorian x reader #mando x you #mando imagine #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djaren #din djarin fics #pedro pascal #dad!mando #mando x pregnant!reader #star wars #star wars imagines

1K notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Illuminated, pt.2

Summary: Seeing an old friend isn’t always a happy occasion, but it can direct you to someone who undoubtedly makes your heart beat faster.

Warnings: talk of war and death, book spoilers

Part 1

=================================

It felt strange to be walking the same halls she once revered. Y/N had barely grown at all since her time at Little Palace, if anything she'd claim she got shorter, but the walls didn't seem as intimidating as they used to.

Back then, she was just a clueless girl with dreams that turned into nightmares. The war had left deep wounds everywhere in Ravka and for that, Y/N would curse Alina Starkov's name until her dying breath.

Ravka trusted Alina to rescue them from the darkness, but she only expanded it. She fled from her responsibility and responded with force when General Kirigan asked for accountability.

Y/N was considered too young to be allowed in battle, sent away by the Darkling with children who have not yet mastered their particular branch of small science. Grisha a year older than her were given the chance to protect Ravka, something she wished she could have done.

If it were up to her, she'd have stood by him instead of hiding.

Y/N had always been quite capable of controlling her power. Whether it be fire, wind or water, she held a firm grasp over all three elements with an iron fist and a terrifyingly sharp mind. She had developed attacks no one else is capable of, the kind that made other Grisha wary of her ferocity.

Naturally, she assumed that was why General Kirigan had called on her. The last thing she expected was to have the General, her King, admire the abominable blue flames she wields.

"Y/N?" A breathless reminder of a voice she once knew had stopped her in her tracks.

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N's lips break into a wide smile at the sight of her old friend and confidant.

She didn't waste time, running toward the girl who had fiery hair Y/N always wanted to have too. Colliding with Genya, Y/N couldn't stop a laugh that escaped her as she wrapped her arms around her much taller friend.

“I. Can’t. Breathe!” Genya manages to say between shallow, strained breaths.

Chuckling, Y/N releases her from the death grip she calls a hug. She’s never been subtle in showing affection, or hate.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Y/N exclaims, her attempt to quiet down failing before she even tries.

With a surprised smile set on her lips, Genya nods. “I didn’t realize you’d be at Little Palace.”

Faltering, Y/N licks her lips as her smile is erased. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“Little Palace isn’t exactly the safest place in Ravka anymore”, Genya musses.

Scoffing, Y/N furrows her eyebrows. “Alina made it unsafe.” Lifting her chin, Y/N continues, “The Darkling will protect us.”

Pursing her lips, Genya looks around carefully to ensure they’re alone. “That’s the problem. While he’s here, no one is safe.” Taking Y/N by the elbow, she pulls her aside toward the open window to help disguise their voices from any curious listeners. “Alina was our only hope of killing him.”

Ripping her arm away from Genya’s hold, Y/N narrows her eyes at the friend she once trusted more than anyone else in this world. When there was no hope, Genya put a smile on her face. Even when Y/N was losing herself, she had Genya to remind her of who she is.

She never doubted her friend, never questioned her loyalty or sanity. Until now.

“Genya, who did you fight alongside with?” Y/N asks sharply, her lips forming a thin line.

“You don’t know the entire story”, Genya tries but Y/N steps away as if she’d been burned.

The war had made warriors from children for no matter how they tried to protect their innocence, war leaves no one untouched. When Alina Starkov decided to turn her back on Grisha, Y/N and many others have been forced to grow up far too quickly. No silly crushes or petty arguments mattered for the blood had reached them once Alina slaughtered Botkin in front of them. It was the only taste of war Y/N had for she had killed for the first time on that day.

Alina is the reason she has blood on her hands.

“The story I do know is enough for me”, Y/N huffs as she shakes her head at Genya. “The fact our General did not kill you is proof of his generosity. Perhaps you should learn to appreciate him. Your precious Alina never showed such mercy.”

Turning her back on Genya, Y/N headed back. She didn’t want to explore the old corridors anymore, but to bathe and sleep. From tomorrow on, she’ll be working with Kirigan on her new ability and she didn’t want to display any reasons for him to distrust her.

She pauses as Genya speaks up.

“I wonder what will get you killed faster – your loyalty or stubbornness?”

Turning her head to the left, Y/N could see her old friend in her peripheral vision. “At least I’ll die for something I believe in. I’ll die for Ravka. Can you say the same?”

Fuming, Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. She turned the pillow to the colder side, she even tried turning her head on the opposite side of the headboard, but nothing could calm her mind or the itching to use her powers to blow off some steam.

The one part of herself she truly did connect with the Inferni was the temper she often got in trouble for. When Nina Zenik called her stupid, she burned off her eyebrows and Botkin forced her to wake up at the crack of dawn and do sprints for the next month as punishment. It’s probably the only time in her life she was truly in good form.

Grunting, she raised her legs and slammed them back on the mattress in frustration. Tossing the blanket off, she grabbed her blue kefta and left the room.

Her footsteps echo the halls as she all but runs out, straight into the foggy morning air outside. The cold pinches her skin, her lips trembling for a moment before she sinks her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her breaths come in visible puffs of air as she wraps her arms around her middle while securing her hands under her armpits to stop herself from using her power that’s calling to her like the siren song calls sailors to their certain death.

Y/N always had the misfortune of wearing her heart on her sleeve with those she cares for. She also has a nasty tendency to either feel nothing or everything at once and when someone she loves turns out to be different than what she believed, it causes an uncontrollable explosion of emotion deep within.

“Is there a particular reason you’re outside at this ungodly hour?” A deep voice makes her gasp as she turns to look at the very person she most admires.

Raising her eyebrows, she nearly laughed as she realized the Darkling wore not his kefta, but the clothes he sleeps in. It’s loose clothing, black as his kefta and horse and yet it gives off a softness she did not realize a man as powerful as him could ever possess.

“I’d ask you the same, General”, she retorts with her eyebrows still raised as if she’s challenging him to come closer and make her stop ogling him.

For a moment, she thought he might turn away and leave as he stood there calmly. It feels as if he’s studying her, taking in every inch of her and committing it to memory. If it were any other man, Y/N would have spoken up or acted out to prevent the uncomfortable feeling of being watched so intimately, yet she didn’t want Kirigan to ever stop looking at her. If not for her fear of being too forward, she’d invite him closer.

As if he read her mind, Kirigan takes a step closer….and then another one. She can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

What does he see when he looks at her?

How does she look in his eyes, because the way he’s looking at her now is taking her breath away?

He looks at her as if there is something worth looking at.

“Sometimes my mind turns on me”, he admits in a low, quiet tone that Y/N has to strain to hear him properly. “I’ve lived a long life and a longer one awaits me. My mind is full of ghosts that want retribution for what I did to them.”

Swallowing thickly, she straightens her back as she comes closer – close enough to feel his breath as it fans the hair at the top of her head.

“What did you do to them?”

The left corner of his lips twitches. “You’d think ill of me if I told you.”

Averting her gaze to his bare chest revealed by the wind as it pulled the fabric of his shirt, Y/N licks her lips. She argues with herself on her next move, wondering if it would be improper to touch the man who had been considered untouchable by everyone she ever met. Her fingers years to feel his skin under their tips, to slowly trail the jawline she wants to press her lips against.

Frowning softly, she bites her lower lip as she locks her eyes on his dark ones. Unlike many before her, she does not crumble under the weight of his heavy gaze. Her heart trembles as she reaches out and places her palm on his chest.

He didn’t expect her to touch him, tensing up. It’s surprising how warm her hand is, more so how inviting the warmth is. He’s hyper-aware of every breath he takes as his chest expands under her touch, hoping this incredibly brazen Grisha does not feel the way his heart jumps with the sudden surge of her bravery.

When he notices her lips move, he holds his breath as if the simple act of breathing could muffle her voice and make it harder for him to soak up the blind loyalty and love she holds for him.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things. You’re not evil for choosing to protect yourself and your country. I could never think badly of you, General.”

It’s been a long time since he found someone so incredibly devoted to him and his cause, exhilarating him to the core. Alina had never truly believed in him for she always considered him wicked, but Y/N couldn’t be more different. Perhaps he’s right and this time it will work.

With someone trusting as Y/N is, he can’t possibly fail again.

Letting her hand fall, Y/N looks away as she realizes she crossed the line and his silence is the easiest way for him to inform her of it. Truth be told, she wondered who was the last woman who got to lay her hand on his chest.

Was it Alina?

There were rumors of the relationship Kirigan and Alina supposedly had and Y/N always felt a pang of jealousy upon hearing the girls talk. She never knew him, she never truly had him and she never will, but the idea someone else does brought her pain.

Perhaps her overthinking or the increasingly awkward silence prompted her temper to speak instead of her brain.

"Did you love her?" Y/N blurts out.

Her eyes widen as she realizes her thoughts have become vocal and in the presence of the very man she should be watching her mouth around.

"I apologize. It must be a difficult time to reminisce about." Maybe Nina was right – she is stupid!

"It is quite alright.” Darkling lets out an audibly heavy breath. “I did not love her, I trusted her. I trusted her enough to put all my hope for a better Ravka on her shoulders and she betrayed our country."

"No", she reaches out slowly, her hand finding its way to his as it gingerly grasps his fingers. "She betrayed you."

Smiling reluctantly, Kirigan finds himself wondering if he should embrace the fact Y/N seems to be a very touchy person or if he should set some boundaries. Despite the shiver that runs down his spine, he allows her hand to fully take his as he closes his fingers around hers.

"I should have seen it coming. I'm far too used to betrayal."

"I'd never do that", she pauses. "I'd never betray you. I'd never break your trust."

Her responses are quick, so innocent and naïve that he can’t help but feel guilty about every moment he spends near her. No one should send a doe eyed beauty into the clutches of a beast so easily, yet he has no desire to force her to leave.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Smiling, her entire face lights up. It’s a true delight to witness so early in the morning after a long night of nightmares he faced.

“Do not worry, General. I have every intention on proving myself to you.”

Glancing at their hands, her smile widens. She spent years wishing for this and now that it’s happening she can’t seem to believe it’s real.

“The sun will come up soon”, he changes the topic.

Y/N fears he might leave and her hand would be back at her side as she watches his retreating figure, but when he speaks again her heart dances in her chest.

“Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

Inhaling sharply, she nods. “Very much so.”

Unfortunately for them, someone else couldn’t sleep that night and they had seen just enough for a terrible plan to be born.

=================================

A/N - So, I’m definitely going to play with the books here and twist some things to fit the storyline I have in mind. There might be some spoilers, so read with caution. I debated on making more than a one shot for this and taking on some ideas I have for Darkling but also Nikolai, so I’m not sure how long this will be just yet.

Tags: @deceivedeer @evyiione @measshaw

Part 3

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadown and bone

197 notes · View notes

helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Scientia Potentia Est (Adrenaline Junkie Part 10)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: slight PTSD, mentions of death/dying, some description of injury/scars, slight panic attack

Word count: 2,734

(A/N): how are yall liking the story so far?

You were woken up by the obnoxious chirping of various songbirds right outside your window. Cracking open your heavy eyes, you glanced at the clock on your wall. 7 AM. You only got about an hour of sleep. Great.

Groaning, you reluctantly left the beckoning warmth of your comfortable blanket cocoon and stretched out your limbs. You stood up and trudged towards your luggage that laid haphazardly in the corner of your childhood room. Awkwardly twisting your body around to take off the sensors attached to your back and sliding off the prosthetic, you put it on your bed. Pulling out a random shirt and pants without giving them any real thought, you shambled off to the bathroom to shower and preen your wing.

You stood under the warm running water for a while just doing nothing but trying to wake yourself up. The steam drifted idly throughout the room as you stepped out of the shower and finished your morning routine. You still felt dead inside even after your refreshing shower. Is this what Philza felt like in the mornings? Is this what death feels like? Oh wait. You already knew what dying felt like, you’ve died twice already and you had the scars to prove it.

The scar on the right side of your back remained prominent and very noticable, but it faded slightly around the edges. The other scar that stretched across your cheek and stretched down to your stomach was new. They were red and raised. You remembered how you got them like it was yesterday. You, your brothers, your nephew, and Tubbo were following Eret still celebrating your win. You all completely trusted him, he was your teammate after all. Trusting him was a mistake. It was foolish. That power hungry bastard blew up everything you and your brothers built and worked for. He was a traitor to L’manberg. Everyone present lost a life in the explosion.

You shuddered, remembering the explosion. You remembered the feeling of extreme heat on your skin and the deafening boom that left a ringing in your ears. You remembered laying on the ground several feet away from your brothers’ corpses. You were the last to die that day. Everything hurt as you laid there slowly bleeding out from the deep gash running from under your eye to your midsection. The plumes of smoke floated up towards the sunny sky as everything burned around you. You hoped you would suffocate from smoke inhalation before you would bleed out again. The flames licked at your skin, almost taunting you with your oncoming death. Why couldn’t you have died instantly like everyone else? Why did you always have to die painfully?

A soft knock snapped you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you realized that you were clutching the side of the sink so hard that your knuckles were turning white.

“(Y/n), are you in there?” It was Arthur. What was he doing up so early?

You wiped at the tears that had gathered in your eyes and cleared your throat. “Y-yeah buddy. I’ll be out in a second.”

You turned on the water faucet and splashed some cold water in your face. It somewhat worked for the blotchiness and redness, but your eyes were still puffy. You were just going to have to get out of the bathroom and pray that Arthur and Philza won’t notice. You took a deep breath and opened the door. There Arthur stood looking at you happily.

“What’re ya doing up so early bud?”

“My brother said that I’m a morning person.”

Brother?

Despite your confusion, you did your best to grin at him. “Well, early bird, do you wanna help me make breakfast?”

His eyes lit up with excitement and he jumped up and down slightly. “Yes please! I love cooking, Mama and Papa would always let me help!”

Oh, you absolutely hated not knowing something. You needed to have that chat with him as soon as you could.

You smirked. “C’mon then, lets go get started!”

He sprinted down the hallway and towards the stairs. You felt a slight panic flare up inside of you. “Arthur, please don’t run down the stairs!”

To your great relief, he listened and slowed down to a brisk walking speed. You speedwalked over to him. For someone so little, he was surprisingly fast. By the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, he was already in the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Philza was sitting at the table with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. As per usual, he looked like he’d rather go back to sleep. You walked over to the coffee maker and poured yourself a cup, you were going to need it. Philza’s tired eyes followed you as you poured the steaming liquid into your mug.

“Tired?” His voice was raspier and deeper than usual.

“Yeah, didn’t get much sleep last night.” You sipped at the bitter drink before wrinkling your nose and stirring in an ungodly amount of sugar. Sipping it again, you sighed in content. That was much better.

You walked to the chest and pulled out some bacon strips, eggs, and bread. Setting them on the counter, you turned to Arthur. He was standing on his tiptoes trying to clearly see over the counter. You chuckled, pulling a chair out from the table and dragging it over to him so he could stand on it.

“Don’t get too excited kid, we have to wash our hands first. Then we can get to the fun part.”

Arthur scrambled over to the sink, pulling his chair along with him. Though he was extremely excited, he actually took the time to properly wash his hands. Once you both were clean, you both got to cooking. You let him scramble the eggs and butter the toast while you did the rest of the work. You didn’t want him to get burned, especially by the bacon grease.

Cooking was quickly done with Arthur’s help and before you knew it, breakfast was already halfway done. Over the course of eating, Philza was slowly waking up and adding his own input into the conversation. You were hardly paying attention when Arthur asked you a question.

“Hey, (y/n), where’s your wing?”

“Hm?”

“The fake one.”

Your eyes widened. Shit, you forgot to put it back on after your shower. You suddenly felt every single little touch on your amputated wing. The chair, a light breeze from the open window, the brush of feathers from your complete wing, everything. You felt vulnerable and naked without it on. You felt powerless.

“Oh, I- must’ve forgot to put it back on again. Excuse me.”

You stood up from your chair, a screech resounding from the legs scratching against the floor. Taking care of your half-eaten breakfast, you tried to hurry up to your room as fast as you could scolding yourself the entire way for being so forgetful. So stupid.

You locked the door behind you and saw your silver wing laying on your bed staring at you, as if taunting you for leaving it behind. You rushed to put it back on. Though you felt your muscles tense up because of the sudden cool, it felt incredibly relieving to have your wing back on. You felt whole.

You awkwardly twisted around to fasten the leather belts around the base of your amputated wing and attach the sensors back onto specific spots on your back where your flight muscles were. You put one on your deltoid, one on your trapezius, one on both teres muscles, one on your infraspinatus, and lastly two on your latissimus dorsi muscle. It usually took you at least thirty minutes of testing the prosthetic’s movements and moving the sensors around slightly to get the placement of the sensors exactly correct, so you assumed that breakfast was over and done with ten minutes ago.

Your wing was finally connected and fully functional, so you left your room in search for Arthur. You eventually found him in the basement in your old workshop looking through your filing cabinet of blueprints. He mustn't have heard you come down the stairs because he didn’t react. He just kept looking through your old papers, pulling a few out and putting them on a nearby crafting table.

“Arthur?”

He jumped, the paper he was in the middle of pulling out slipped back into its place inside the filing cabinet. He didn’t turn around to face you at first, so you thought that he was just trying to catch his breath from your little scare. Feeling bad, you walked closer and put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. What’re ya doin?”

“I-I’m looking at your old inventions, Philza let me come down here to look at them while he tried to find me more clothes I could wear that fit.”

“Buddy, you should’ve waited until I put my wing back on, I could’ve shown you my prized inventions.”

He looked down to his feet. “I’m sorry (y/n), I just really wanted to see them and you were taking so long. I couldn’t wait.”

You frowned, putting a finger under his chin and making him look at you. You saw guilt darkening his eyes. “Arthur, never say sorry for wanting knowledge. Knowledge is perhaps our greatest weapon against the unknown in the universe. I want you to remember the phrase ‘scientia potentia est’.”

He sniffled. “Scientia… potentia est?”

“Yes, it means ‘knowledge is power’. Knowledge and power are two very… wide subjects, which is why I like the phrase. In a way, it means that you could pull off anything with knowledge. A lot of inventors live by that motto. Personally, it’s a motto that I swear by. Having knowledge gets me out of a lot of sticky situations,” you kindly smiled at him. “Now, do you want me to show you how my prosthetic works? I could even show you the first prototype if you’d like.”

To your delight, the smile that you often saw him wearing quickly returned and he nodded vigorously. You could get used to people wanting to know how your inventions work and why they worked the way that they did. You spent the next two hours explaining and answering questions about your prosthetic. You let him hold and examine your old leather wing. You showed him how the sensors were placed and warned him that if they were even very very slightly off, the wing wouldn’t work right. You even let him craft a sensor with you.

“So, do you have any interest in being an inventor when you grow up?”

“Yes, I wanna be just like you! You’re like, the bestest inventor ever!”

You took a deep breath, kneeling in front of him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “Arthur, would you like to become my protégé?”

He scrunched up his face and squinted his eyes in confusion. “Your what?”

You lightly laughed. “Do you know what an apprentice is?” He shook his head. “Well, I want to take you under my wing. Teach you everything I know.”

His eyes comically stretched and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water. If it were possible, you’d imagine stars shining in his eyes. “You’d do that?”

“Naturally. You’re perhaps the most ambitious person I’ve ever met in terms of your goals, and at such a young age too. I’ve never met anybody besides fellow innovators that actually wants to know how my inventions are made. It’s refreshing in a sense. Would you accept me being your mentor?”

“I- yes! Yes, yes! A million, no, a billion times yes! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He cheered, squealing with delight and jumping up and down.

You laughed. “Woah there bud, cool your jets. We have work to do, but first…” you sighed. You really didn’t want to ruin his moment, but you needed to talk to him about this if he were to become your apprentice.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes still wide with excitement. “First what?” “First… we need to talk. About your story, I mean.”

“What do you mean? We are talking.”

“No, not like that. We need to talk about your family. And how you want me to help you with The Warden.”

He visibly deflated, you didn’t think it was possible for someone to change moods so quickly. It was almost unnatural how fast he switched emotions. “Oh… Do we have to?”

“Yes, Arthur. We have to trust each other if we’re gonna work together.”

He shifted on the balls of his feet and fiddled with his thumbs. He looked very anxious to talk about his family.

“If you want, I can show you where I go to relax and think. Would you like that?”

He nodded and wiped at his eyes. You grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs. Since Philza was out, you wrote him a little note and put it on the table where he should see it right away if he came back before you two. You grabbed your satchel and filled it with two glass vials of water, a few snacks, and a blanket. Arthur just stared at you confusedly.

You led him outside and hesitated. Should you ask him if he wanted to fly? It would be a lot faster to get there. “Arthur, would you like to fly there? I know it’s scary, but once you get used to it it’s so much fun!”

He reluctantly nodded, so you bent over and wrapped your arms around him to pick him up. You felt him tense up as you prepped for take off. “Hold on tight, I promise I won’t drop you.”

You pushed yourself off from the ground with a powerful flap of your wings causing Arthur to shriek in surprise. You and Arthur shot into the sky at a moderate speed. When you steadied yourself high above the treeline, you looked down at the boy in your arms. He had his eyes tightly closed and he was shaking slightly. “Arthur, you can open your eyes now.”

You watched as he peeked one of his eyes open and looked at you, you smiled encouragingly at him. “Go ahead, look around.” He observed his surroundings with caution before he opened his other eye. He was looking around in amazement, taking in every single detail from a bird’s eye view. You snorted before redirecting your attention back to flying. You needed to pay attention, especially when you had a passenger that would carry on your legacy after you die.

The flight went by with Arthur giggling at various mobs below and sometimes pointing out something he thought was interesting to you. Your destination was now several meters ahead of you. Landing, you set Arthur down steadying him when he stumbled a little.

You took out the blanket and spread it across the grassy ground, smoothing it out. You beckoned Arthur to sit down next to you on it and you two overlooked the boundless expanse of the grassy plains.

“This is where I came up with most of my inventions. It’s where I first tested my prosthetic. There’s where I jumped off.”

“How’d you know it worked?”

“I didn’t before I tested it. Looking back, it was stupid of me to do. Never, ever, do what I did.”

“What if-”

“No what if’s. Consult me before you test out anything dangerous in the future. I mean it, Arthur.”

“But I want to be like you.”

“Trust me kid, you don’t wanna be exactly like me. Besides, you’re you. You’re not (y/n) Minecraft. You’re Arthur Fox. You’re your own person and it’s important for you to understand that. Never let anyone take that away from you.”

He fell silent as he contemplated your words. You assumed that nobody’s ever told him that before, both due to his young age and potential lack of adult figures in his life.

“Artie, you can tell me about your life when you’re ready. Take as much time as you need, we still have half the day left before we have to start heading back.”

He wordlessly nodded, turning his gaze to stare blankly past the cliff. In the meantime, you would wait patiently until he felt comfortable telling you.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @goldenstarofthunderclan @ravennightingaleandavatempus @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @m1lkmandan @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam

@bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash4 @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @lestrangenymph @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @sparkling-gayyyy @angelic-scent @shinipii @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional @used-avocado @laura--444 @wing-non @lovely-echoo @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @mysteryartisticwriter

421 notes · View notes

sparrowjaywrites · 3 years

Text

Forget-Me-Not

-Spencer Reid x Female Reader- Plot: When the team is caught in explosion you wake up with no memory of who you are, or who anyone on your team is.

Y/N = Your name

Y/L/N = Your last name

H/C = Hair color

Heat burned around her as the young woman stumbled to her feet; her vision was hazy, blurred. There was a part of her who wondered if the blurriness was from her pounding head or her missing glasses… glasses moments ago she hadn’t even known she wore. Her feet kicked against debris small stones and smoldering pieces of wood; she could see an opening… a doorway red and blue lights flashed through it. She coughed as she moved, she needed to run, to get out faster… yet despite her desperate need to escape, a need she didn’t understand she couldn’t make her feet drag any quicker over the soot covered floor.

She stumbled through the doorway the red and orange haze of smoke quickly replaced by police lights that blinked fast enough she wasn’t sure if everything was washed in blue and red or possibly purple as her vision began to blur more each time she coughed. A man… no two men raced towards her shouting words she couldn’t make out past the ringing in her ears. Her knees gave out just as one of the men a handsome black man with kind eyes reached her. The other man was just as handsome though in another way… cute with curly brown hair and a singed sweater vest over a buttoned up shirt that she was sure had once been white.

She let the men drag her towards the ambulance slumping into their arms her boots dragging on the black cement. She was placed on a stretcher the second man, the nerdy one she dubbed him simply climbed in with her holding her hand tightly in his. She didn’t know why he held onto her so tightly but she found she liked it; it was comforting for some unknown reason.

The drive to the hospital seemed to pass in a blink of an eye… or maybe she’d just passed out for a moment; that was more likely she mused as she was rolled through the ER doors. Nerdy man followed her inside but was quickly rushed away by a nurse. The nurses were speaking to her asking questions she still couldn’t fully hear though she could now make out the low hum of their voices. They quickly stopped speaking to her just offering her comforting smiles as they worked. She knew she must have been loud with her hisses and yelps of pain as they began to remove blackened pieces of cloth from her legs and chest, and small pieces of metal from throughout her body.

Nerdy man was back as soon as the nurses let him past. Again her hand was in his as he talked to her and tried to smile at her. She blinked at him blankly, she couldn’t hear him… the nurses must have said as much, a doctor had even looked in her ears. Why was he bothering? Who was he, why did he seem so upset by her blank stare? He lifted a hand from hers and brushed his fingers along her cheek, she jerked her head back at the motion. Holding her hand was one thing, to touch her face when she didn’t even know him was another. The man quickly moved his hand back looking at her questioningly; hurt clear in his brown eyes.

A nurse quickly joined them injecting something into her IV, it wasn’t until her eyes began to shut that she recognized the burn in her throat and realized she had been yelling. What she had yelled she had no idea, nor did she care as her eyes drifted closed.

---Line Break---

The next time the young woman awoke she was in a room. She scanned the room with squinted eyes, she couldn’t see much of anything clearly, no she would need her glasses for that. Glasses she had left behind in the burning warehouse she had woken in originally. She cursed her stupidity her eyes landing on a man reading a book beside her, she could hear the turn of the page every few moments, far too quickly for anyone to actually read she suspected. Blinking back the haze of sleep… or drugs, yeah definitely drugs, she recognized the man.

Why was Nerdy man by her bedside again? She blinked at him staring silently until he glanced up as the beeping of her heart monitor sped up as she tried to figure out who he was. Those brown eyes that seemed so very precious to her though she knew not why locked with hers. A relieved smile split the man’s face as she immediately set the book he’d been holding aside.

“Y/N?” His voice fit him, his long lanky form straightening as he grasped her hand once again. Y/N? Who was Y/N? Was she Y/N? The woman blinked fear flickering through her as she realized she didn’t know… what was her name? How old was she? When was her birthday? Who was the man sitting next to her? “Whoa, hey it’s okay, you’re safe, we’re safe.” Nerdy man quickly reached out cupping her cheek in his large hand his long fingers gently caressing her skin as she began to hyperventilate.

“Who are you?” She managed to rasp out past her smoke damaged throat. Brown eyes widened at her question his hand quickly falling from her cheek as he gazed into her eyes worriedly.

“Y/N? It’s me, Spencer.” Spencer… the name fit, recognition pinged in the back of her mind, though the sensation was short and fleeting gone before she could grasp it.

“I… am I Y/N?” She swallowed thickly speaking her words slowly, she could hear the fear in her voice, it was almost solid it was so thick. Nerdy man… no, Spencer closed his eyes clearly blinking back panicked tears as he took a deep breath then nodded.

“Yes, you’re Y/N. I’ll be right back.” He quickly stood striding out of the room in long strides on long legs. Though blurred Y/N couldn’t help but note he had a very nice ass… shut up, Y/N, this isn’t the time. She chastised herself surprised how quickly she accepted her new… or old name. It felt like a long while before Spencer returned followed by two men, one clearly a doctor in a white coat the other a man in what was clearly a suit, though he had the tie and jacket draped over his arm.

“Hello, Agent Y/L/N, my name is Doctor Lynn; Spencer here tells me you don’t remember him?” The doctor asked slowly giving her a content smile. Y/N shakes her head silently noting the deep frown on the suited older man’s face and the pain that quickly covered Spencer’s face. “Agent Y/L/N do you know where you are?”

“A hospital… is Y/L/N my last name?” Her eyes move to Spencer as she asks the question, he had stood by her through everything from the moment she’d stumbled out of the warehouse too lying in the bed she was now in. He was who she trusted to answer her honestly.

“Yes,” Spencer said clearly though his voice rasped with unshed tears. Suit man placed a hand on his arm reassuringly.

“Agent Y/L/N, can you tell me what you remember about yourself?”

“I… I have H/C hair…” She responds after a moment of thought, small flashes of cutting off long H/C locks in a bathroom, a school bathroom as a teenager flashing through her mind, “I wear glasses… I left them in the warehouse… I couldn’t fully remember them so I didn’t pick them up.” She adds after a moment.

“Well you’re correct on those counts. Agent Hotchner, Dr. Reid could you please wait in the waiting room?” Both men shared wary looks but nodded leaving the room. The suited man shooting her a caring smile on his way out. The next few hours… at least it felt like hours were spent being whisked through the hospital from one machine to another then back again. Nurses explained what they were doing every step of the way, every hour she was asked if the remembered the three words the doctor had told her before her bed had been rolled from her room. Spoon, House, Rock. She passed with flying colors or so her Nurse, Rebecca Jones informed after each memory check.

“It seems you have amnesia Agent Y/L/N. We believe it was caused by the head injury you received in the blast along with brain damage caused by multiple seizures you experienced in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.” Dr. Lynn explained slowly and simply making sure she nodded before continuing. “You seem to be forming new memories and retaining information perfectly well, which is a surprise considering your ADHD, making us believe your experiencing retrograde amnesia, your bouts of recognition also assure us your symptoms are temporary.”

“So I’ll get my memories back?”

“You should, I can’t promise you’ll get them all back, you’ll likely never remember the moments before the blast, but overall we have high hopes for your prognosis, Agent Y/L/N.” They discussed more technical things such as bringing in a social worker and psychologist to determine if she is mentally sound enough to be in charge of herself or if her medical power of attorney would need to be brought in. It was quickly determined she would need to be placed under her medical power of attorney’s power until she at least remembered more about herself and her life. From there though she was informed of everything being done and all conversations she was not a part of them.

Normally she’d have been furious about this she suspected but considering she couldn’t even remembered her damn birthday let alone what medications she was one, where she worked, or any of her family she agreed this was probably for the best. She didn’t see Spencer or suit man again until the next day; they came into the room cleaned up and in fresh clothes.

“Hey, Y/N how you feeling?” Suit man asked smiling at her.

“Like I was blown up… which I was so that seems pretty apt.” She shrugs in response. She had learned she had second degree burns covering both her legs and a good portion of her chest. She had also been riddled with shrapnel though all of it had been removed and the cut’s either sewn or glued closed and covered. She was told she could be released in about forty eight hours when she’d been woken for the billionth time by her nurse that morning. All her wounds could be managed outside the hospital but they wanted to keep her a few days due to her concussion.

“Memories or not you’re still you.” Suit man snorts with a small grin.

“Good to know. So which of you is my medical power of attorney? They said you two were handling my affairs so I assume it’s gotta be one of ya?”

“I am, I uh… we made each other our power of attorney’s when we moved in together.” Spencer spoke up nervously. Y/N’s eyebrow rose at his words… moved in together? Her mind flicked to the sense of comfort she got from him clutching her hand, the way her mind immediately jumped to… less than appropriate thoughts when looking at his very fine ass, and the way he hand caressed her cheek. Oh… oh, that made a lot more sense now.

“Dating, engaged, or married?” She asked calmly smiling as he immediately turned bright red and started stuttering over himself.

“You two are married.” Suit man snorted. Y/N nodded slowly, thinking hard she could remember a wedding dress, blue flowers… forget-me-nots… huh ironic she snorted at the memory before smiling. It may have only been flashes but the memories brought joy, so very much joy.

“What are you smiling about?” Spencer finally found his voice sitting beside her in the same chair he’d been sat in the night before.

“I was trying to remember, forget-me-nots… at our wedding? A bit ironic now wouldn’t you say?” She asked with a small laugh. Spencer’s face lit up at her words as he chuckled along with her.

“I’ve never known anything to fit the meaning of the word better.”

“I mean, the odds, we tempted fate with that one didn’t we?”

“Clearly...” He took her hand in his squeezing it. “Do you… remember anything else?”

“My dress, at least I’m assuming I was the one in the dress,” She raises an eyebrow her eyes moving up and down his slim form. “Though I’m sure you’d look very beautiful in one.” The laughter from her other side was sudden and quickly covered up with a cough as suit guy quickly left the room.

“Your dress… I don’t wear dresses” Spencer quickly confirmed his own amused smile blindingly bright. Maybe, just maybe she could get through this after all?

______________________________________________________ AN: Hey Everyone I know it’s been years since I posted but I’m back with this little story I suddenly had the urge to write at 3 am. I plan to post the original version of this which is with my original character as well for anyone interested in that. I may make a part 2 if people are interested, and if not then the one with my character will probably at least get a part two. I hope you all enjoy!

#spencer reid x reader #reader insert #spencer reid x female reader insert

94 notes · View notes

unrequitedloveletter · 3 years

Text

Certainly- Kaz Brekker

The reader is a bit of an astrology and astronomy alike geek for this, which I hope y’all don’t mind! Also, in this case, phones exist so lets pretend that phones exist in Ketterdam, making it a bit of a modern au, I guess!

Also, this’ll probably be a bit ooc for Kaz

Fic type- angsty fluff

Warnings- blood, mentions of death, and the reader is sick (nothing specific, I just kind of took random symptoms and made up a word for the sickness)

You were determined to see the stars before you went, and as you grew sicker, none of the crows knew when that would be, so, after a little convincing, the crows had gotten Colm to let you spend a couple of months at his farm in Novyi Zem, where the stars were the clearest at night, not burdened by light pollution or the screams of lively cities.

It was the seven of you crammed into a basement, sharing beds, but none of them cared, and you were just glad to be with the people you called family. You were happy that they were with you, that Kaz was willing to wheel you everywhere when you got too weak to stand, that Jesper still made jokes, even despite watching you deteriorate. You were grateful for Inejs smile, Wylans music, Ninas impeccable tastes and Matthias and his big arms that could lift you and put you down without issue.

The six of them had started taking shifts taking you outside. Nina took you outside Sunday nights, Matthias Mondays, Wylan Tuesdays, Jesper Thursdays, Inej Fridays and Kaz Saturdays. Wednesdays you rested up; ate when it was time to eat, used the bathroom when you needed, took a shower if it were the appropriate time, but other than that, you slept.

It was Kaz’s day to wheel you out, and you’d had a particularly rough day that day. Inej went with him, promising not to intrude on the time that you would spend together. She’d do backflips and run across the roof of the farm if you asked her to, but she’d not interrupt otherwise.

“I love the stars,” you whispered, leaning back in your wheelchair and tightening the hold of the blanket over your lap. “Thank you both. For doing this.”

“Don’t you worry, love,” Kaz murmured. “Just keep your eyes on the stars, okay?”

“We’re happy to do this,” Inej added. “All of us are. Really.” It was like both of them could sense it as well as you could. You had a feeling that the night would end terribly, just like the morning had begun.

You’d woken up only to need to rush to the toilet immediately, blood coming up your throat like bile, staining your skin and leaving your bottom lip red as a cherry.

Kaz had been at your side in a minute, Nina and Wylan right behind him. Wylan kept your hair away from the sides of your face, Nina slowed your heartrate and Kaz wet a cloth with cold water to get your body temp down.

Kaz had forced himself to stay in the moment, to not let his thoughts stray to the urge to sleep in the same bed as you to make sure that nothing happened while you slept--to be there in case something did--but to stay on the sun as it set and the faraway sound of Wylan playing his flute with the window open so that you’d be able to hear it.

Once you’d gotten settled under a tree, Inej ran off, making her way inside and up to the barns roof, where she sat, keeping a watch from a distance as Kaz let you rest your head against his shoulder, gloved hand interlaced with yours.

“I love you, Brekker,” you murmured. “Please don’t forget that. Ever.”

“I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re gonna stay around and get better until we can spar again, and you can beat my ass even though I’ve my cane as a weapon.”

“You know full well I can’t promise that,” you wished that you could. You desperately wished. “I’m going to die young, Kaz. I’m not gonna get to eighteen, much less eighty.” Kaz hated you for that.

He hated you because everything that you said somehow managed to be right. It was like you had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and while, on missions, it proved useful, in that scenario, it just proved annoying.

“You’re gonna make it to eighteen if it kills me,” he informed you. “I’ll take you around the globe if I need to, just to make sure you end up okay. I will not live a life without you in it, Y/N.”

“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “Incredibly sweet.”

“Only to you, L/N.” That was the last bit of conversation for a long while as the sun set and the stars came out.

“Did you know that the moon isn’t circular?” You pointed lazily to it, bright and beautiful amongst the even brighter stars. “According to scientests, it’s actually shaped like a lemon!” Kaz didn’t fight his smile.

Of course you’d be spouting off the little factoids you knew about space. You loved it, how vast and crazy it all seemed.

“And that the clouds at the center of the Milky Way smell like raspberries and rum?” Kaz snorted.

“Okay, now, theres no way that ones true!”

“Oh,” you leaned up, booping his nose without a care in the world. “But it is! It’s in a study somewhere, I think! Look it up!” He laughed, pulling you closer to him as you rambled.

Inej had started doing running flips across the roof, spinning and dancing and no doubt laughing as she did. Kaz knew it was an elaborate effort to get you to smile, and it seemed to work as she moved; a delightful silhouette amongst a star filled sky.

“I love you, Kaz Brekker,” you whispered. “You don’t need to say it back, but I really, truly do love you with every bone that exists in my body.”

“I love you too,” he said it without hesitation. “And I’ll love you until we’re old and grey, I swear it.”

“Don’t hold me to that promise,” you murmured. “You know how bad this is. Stop thinking that I’ll make it into the new year. I probably wont.”

“You will if it kills me, Y/N,” he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll drain the bank dry if I have to, I swear to Ghezen.”

You didn’t say anything after, too exhausted to even think about starting an argument with him, simply not wanting to.

But then, an hour later, Kaz felt fear trickle into his stomach like it hadn’t ever in his life.

“And then theres Supernova. It’s like a star that’s dying having it’s last celebration. Like when we get a really big win, or when we get away with what we intended to get away with, and we all get shitfaced before we collapse onto our beds and sleep for the night? A supernova is a dying stars explosion. It’s the last celebration that the star has before it dies out.” you’d been rambling.

“Tonight is my... tonight is my...” Kaz had called for Nina right then and there, screaming her name while he felt you go slack against him.

“Zenik!” He screamed, not caring at all if he were to wake up Jespers father. “Zenik, call in that fucking favor with the bloody Ravkan prince!” Matthias came barreling out after her, phone in hand, already speaking to someone as Nina began working, steadying your heart and trying her hardest to keep you alive.

Kaz had to force himself to walk away from it all, pushing his feet away after giving your shoulders one last squeeze and walking far out into the field.

Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he found himself glaring at the sky, wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wishing that there was someone around that he could gut like a fish.

“Saints,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Sankt Ilya, Sankt Adrik, Sankta Alina of The Fold, I know I am a terrible person, but Y/N is not. They’re good, they smile, they laugh, they’re kind to others when those people probably don’t deserve their kindness. I know I’m damned, I know that you probably strongly dislike me, but they’re different.” He’d never asked the Saints for anything before, and he never would again.

“Please, just, let them live. Let them get the life that they deserve. I’ll do my best to make them happy, but you have to let me,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as they came. “They deserve the life that you’re so willing to take away, and all I ask is that you don’t take it.” He heard the sounds of the ambulance car and raced back to you, gripping your hand as they helped you onto a stretcher and out of the field, through the house and out the entrance.

I won’t lose them, he told himself. A world without them is one that’s unbearable.

O N E Y E A R L A T E R

You laughed as Nina chased you through the halls of the Little Palace, running quickly through the endless corridors, your laughter carrying through them as you kept yourself in front of Nina.

Nikolai had kept you in the Os Altan palace since that night, where Inej laughed and danced and did her flips, whilst Wylan played the piano and Kaz sat beside you, listening to your ramblings without a care in the world.

“You seem delighted,” Nikolai noticed as you stopped in front of his office. “I’ve never seen you walk without that Brekker boy at your side, much less run while Zenik is on your tail!” You shrugged, laughing as Ninas front crashed into your back.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a year,” you murmured. “I figured I’d see if Nina was up to chase me around this morning, and I haven’t stopped running since!” You peered in through the open office door, looking for that familliar mop of dark brown hair.

Nina wrapped her arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be here any minute,” she murmured. “He and the boys are just finishing up a job for Nik in East Ravka, but Matthias told me the second that they’d left!”

“Trust me. Y/N,” Nikolais smooth voice murmured. “I put them on one of my fastest boats. I knew how long it’d take them to get from here to east Ravka and back, and I promised him he’d be here when you finally awoke.”

“Hows it feel, anyway?” Zoya appeared at his side. “Eighteen, I mean.” You shrugged.

“I miss Kaz,” you murmured bluntly. “I hate that I have to tell him that he was right, but I still miss him.”

Nikolai took Zoyas hand, pulling her close as you and Nina watched, smiles on your faces.

“Young love,” Zoya teased. “Zenik, let go of them so that they can turn around.” Nina obeyed, letting you go and moving to lean against the doorway with Nikolai and Zoya.

You turned, and smiled when your gazes met. “You were right, Brekker,” you murmured, walking toward him as he held out your gift to you. “I’m better now, and the second that you’re ready to spar, I’m gonna beat your ass, even though you’ve your cane as a weapon.” He grabbed your pinky with his the moment you were within distance.

“How’d the heist go?” You murmured once the two of you had walked out of earshot.

“Good,” Kaz let himself be close to you as you two moved, squeezing your pinky as you slowed your steps. “Plan went off without a hitch, for three idiots and a mastermind with a limp. I brought you this from it,” he held the gift out to you again, and you took it in your free hand, examining it.

“I had to ask permission for that,” he murmured. “I had to get the Ravkan kings seal of approval to steal that for you.” You laughed, looking it over.

It was a journal. Black and leather bound, pages crisp and untouched. A pen was tucked into the cover.

“I promise, we’ll go home soon,” you responded. “I miss Ketterdam. I could go for some waffles.”

“Don’t they have waffles here?” Kaz questioned.

“Not Ketterdam waffles, love. Ketterdam waffles are unlike any pathetic waffle from here! Doused in syrup and whip cream--” You let out a satisfied sigh. “So good it’s almost surreal!” Kaz smirked.

“Waffle date when you’re well enough to return home then?”

“Certainly.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #platonic inej ghafa x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #waffles

250 notes · View notes

phantomrose96 · 4 years

Text

King

cw: heavy angst, non-canon character death, violent imagery, emetophobia

It’s pretty long, so heed the Read More.

...

Bakugou is sitting in the police station.

Time isn’t moving forward with him. It has a hand over his mouth holding him back, holding him down, beneath the surface of the unreal waters which suspend him. All sounds reach his ears muffled. The phone ringing, and the station hand answering. Chatter, officers exchanging details, Bakugou winces at the utterance of the word “explosion”. None of it is real. None of it can be happening to him.

He jangles the handcuffs on his wrist, and this attracts the weary attention of the station hands. The cuffs aren’t necessary. He is not going anywhere. He sits, and he stares forward, and his ears ring.

Bakugou has fucked up. Bakugou understands for the first time in his life the sensation of fucking up beyond repair. He is watching dreams evaporate in front of his eyes, staring forward unseeingly at the pallid white floor tiles around him. His eyes trace their lines. He does not see them. They are not real. He is not real. He has fucked up. He has fucked up.

Behind his eyelids, a single image burns. It is branded into his eyes. The scorched wick of a torso lingers there, shifting to a negative impression of itself with each blink. A torched wick, balanced on disembodied legs, falling forward. Falling forward. Falling forward. Falling forward again with each blink. It’s a sight he has no way to unsee.

His heart rate picks up. His breathing comes faster and shallower. He says nothing. He has fucked up. He has fucked up, and he can never fix this.

Because he is still, and because he is silent, no one pays him any mind.

…

A man walks into the precinct. He is just a bit portly, immaculately dressed in a suit and tie. He shrugs off the tweed overcoat, leaving just vest and undershirt and tie, and hangs it with familiarity on the coat rack by the entrance. He lifts his bowler’s hat in greeting, and overlapping responses greet him from the precinct office. “Fujimori” is uttered, affably. He extends a hand, and several workers shake it with a smile. A joke is cracked. A chorus of deep belly laughs follow. The man with the bowler’s hat – Fujimori – calms his mirth and asks one of the officers about his kids, and when the idle chatter ends, he asks where his client is.

Fingers point toward Bakugou. Fujimori lumbers over, with a confidence that reminds Bakugou of lions, his face at ease. Fujimori lowers himself to a squat so he is eye level with Bakugou.

“I’m Hiroji Fujimori. I’m a lawyer with U.A. You’ve had a hell of a day, huh, Katsuki Bakugou? Why don’t I help get those handcuffs off and get you home for some rest?”

Bakugou looks up. He hears the words, but his ears are still ringing, so he clearly has not heard them correctly. It sounded like the man said he was going home.

“Home?” Bakugou asks.

“Well, the U.A. dorms. Under protective custody but, I promise, you won’t even notice.”

“I’m not going home,” Bakugou responds. He isn’t sure it’s his own voice speaking, or his own lips moving.

“Oh? Got somewhere else you’re headed?”

“Jail.”

Fujimori lets out a deep laugh, the kind that rumbles his whole body. He fans himself briefly with the casefile in hand. “Right. Right right right, no one’s given you the run-down. Ease back those shoulders, son, you’re not headed to jail. Chin up! Try for a smile. This isn’t my first rodeo.” He offers a nod back to the officers. “Ain’t that right?”

There’s a chorus of agreement. Bakugou is looking, but not processing. His mind hangs on “not headed to jail.”

“…When am I going to jail, then?”

“Hopefully never! Not very becoming of a U.A. Hero to be doing time, hmm? Come on. There’s a car waiting out front for you. Let’s gather up your stuff and get you home. Bet you’re dying for something more comfortable than this chair, and these cuffs. Hell, I bet you want nothing more than a night in your own bed right now. Poor boy,” and Fujimori angles his head over his shoulder, “just how many hours have you lot kept him all tied up here, hmm? A touch reprehensible.”

Fujimori is wrong. Bakugou is not thinking about his bed or rest or sleep. Nor is he concerned with how many hours he’s been sitting at the precinct – though it’s been several. He has not thought about those things because time has not restarted. Because there is no future of his to consider with a bed and rest and sleep, not with the unfixable thing he’s done.

Bakugou says none of what he’s thinking. He’s uncharacteristically uncapable of trying. So he silently stands when Fujimori motions him to, and follows as Fujimori takes him back to the precinct desk, where Fujimori strikes up another amicable conversation with the officer in possession of the keys.

…

Back at the dorms, Bakugou showers off the smell of flesh that isn’t his own. He crawls into his U.A. bed for what he is sure is the last time. Hours pass staring at the ceiling, until Bakugou slips into dreams which play back his own last calamitous explosion to him a few dozen more times.

…

Fujimori is waiting for him the next morning, parked alongside the grass outside with the dew brushing along the footboard of his Mercedes. He is wearing a different suit today, a darker one, and he is holding two steaming cups of coffee, one which he offers to Bakugou. Bakugou takes it, though he isn’t sure why. The feeling of heat soaking into his palm is abhorrent.

“How’d you sleep?” Fujimori asks. His attendant opens the back-left passenger door for Bakugou. Bakugou stares. He does not answer, and he does not get in. Fujimori continues. “We’ll just be headed into the office for a few hours this morning. Some of my colleagues would like to meet you and hash over some details from yesterday. Might ask you to sign a few papers, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Fujimori gets in the back-right passenger door. The attendant takes the wheel. Once settled, Fujimori cranks up the AC and fans himself with the documents in his hand. He motions for Bakugou to get in as well. This time, Bakugou complies. Fujimori leans over and shuts the car door for him.

“You said you’re a U.A. lawyer?” Bakugou finally asks. He grips the coffee too tightly in his lap. He’s wearing his U.A. uniform, with the pants hitched up correctly. It’s what he was ordered to wear.

“Sure am. Going on 20 years this September. Y’know, I’ve got a son a little bit younger than you. HUGE fan of the U.A. Sports Festival. I get tickets and bring him every year. You were his top-ringer, favorite by a mile. Your victory over that Todoroki kid—

“Stop.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop.”

“Ah, sports festival a sour subject with you, son? As I recall you did end up restrai—”

“No. Stop being so casual. And friendly. Like this. Sports festival. Sports festival?! Like that’s ever going to matter again!” Bakugou’s voice builds toa crescendo, pent up horror spilling from his mouth like a faucet. “It’s cruel, don’t you think, to make me talk about U.A. like I’m ever coming back.”

“Hey now, the way I see it you’ve still got another two full years at that school before they’re done with you.”

“If you think that then you don’t know what happened yesterday. What kind of lawyer are you who doesn’t even know—”

“I know your case file forward and back, son. I’m no amateur. In fact, I’m very very skilled at what I do.”

“Then you know that I k—”

“—Calculated an unwinnable risk, and acted under extreme duress, and fear for you own life, in the face of a paralyzingly dangerous situation. And I know that your actions were necessary to ensure the safety of yourself and all others in the area.” Fujimori raises his own coffee to his lips and drinks from it, leaving the both of them to ruminate in the whir of the A.C. “An admirable and heroic act, with a tragic but unavoidable outcome.”

Bakugou feels colder, in a part of himself untouched by the A.C.

“…It wasn’t like that,” he whispers.

“I assure you it was, boy.”

The car blinker clicks on. They hang a left. Bakugou fixes his eyes out the window, watching the world spin by him. There’s an anger like solid ice encasing his heart, the kind he cannot act on, the kind that paralyzes him in his seat, the kind he’d only felt once before – when All Might lost his power for him – that Bakugou had vowed to never feel again.

Self-hatred. Ice instead of fire. That is what makes it so paralyzing.

“…Why are you representing me?”

“Because U.A. requested that I do.”

“And why would U.A. care? This wasn’t a U.A. mission. This didn’t have anything to do with them.”

Fujimori turns and offers him a warm smile. His face is disarming, and gentle, and grandfatherly, and he extends a hand to pat Bakugou on the shoulder.

“Come now, I think you’re a sharp enough boy to figure out the answer to that question.”

…

Bakugou leaves the office numb again. His memories of the incident feel hazier now. They feel less his own. He’s been asked to hold on to someone else’s construction, to coddle it in his mind until he believes it is his own. He needs to sew it back into himself. And forget his own memories. And move on.

Six hours have passed since he walked into the conference room with Fujimori, met with a half-dozen other lawyers whose names and faces all escape him now. He’s been asked too many times to describe the villain’s face, to describe man’s dress and his expression and his body language. Bakugou no longer trusts any memory he has of face, and body, and dress, and name.

Bakugou does not remember what, precisely, the villain said to him. He does not remember how he said it or why. Or how the villain had used his quirk, or how many times, or how close to Bakugou. Bakugou knows with certainty the villain had smashed him into the pavement, because it is that white-hot rage he felt in response that is seared into the memory behind his eyelids, like an after-image in the wake of an atom bomb.

The missing details, the absent paint strokes in his memory, have been helpfully filled in for him. Bakugou has been informed by the half-dozen lawyers that the villain had attacked him first, and with such bloodlust and such aggression that Bakugou had acted purely, and only, in defense of himself. Bakugou has been informed that the contusions to the back of his skull, documented at the police station, and the abrasions along his arms and legs and back all constitute intense physical trauma, from the villain who struck first, against Bakugou who had every reason to fear for his life.

Bakugou has been informed that the villain was a scoundrel, a lowlife, a man with a record and no family and no ties to the community.

Bakugou ruminates on all these new elements he’s been told to graft into his memory, as the car vibrates beneath him and Fujimori makes idle one-sided chatter on their ride back to U.A. All these memories meld together, such that Bakugou cannot pick apart what is his own, and what is not. He stares into the blood-red setting sun over the horizon, and he realizes he never will be able to.

There were no witnesses. There were no cameras. The only other man, who might otherwise have had the chance to defend himself, is dead.

…

Bakugou showers again. He already showered this morning. Bakugou tells himself it is because he’s been out all day. He doesn’t let himself consider what about the outing has made him feel so unclean.

So he doesn’t think about it, and he scrubs off the phantom lingering smells of burnt flesh from his body, and towels off, and changes into sweats. Alone in his room, with the blood red of the setting sun eking through his window, Bakugou considers going right to bed. His eyes shift to the clock beside his bed. It’s 5pm, and he hasn’t eaten yet today.

Bakugou stands, indecisive, and moves to the door.

When he opens it, he sucks in a sharp breath. Todoroki is standing at his doorway, leaning ever so slightly against the wall, his appraising eyes roving once over Bakugou before he straightens up entirely.

“Move,” Bakugou says.

“Where did you go with Fujimori this morning?”

Bakugou balks, only for an instant. He shoves past Todoroki, and sets his focus on navigating to the dorm kitchen. “Who?”

“The lawyer. I saw from the window. You were talking to him. You got in his car. And you’ve been gone the whole day until now.”

“What do you care?” Bakugou picks up his pace. Todoroki matches it.

“Because it’s Fujimori.”

“I don’t know what that means. Fuck off and leave me alone.”

“What did he want with you? What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Fuck off.”

“Tell me.”

Bakugou stops cold and whirls on Todoroki. He feels his hand twitch, but he thinks better of it.

“It’s from my work study. It’s confidential. I can’t tell you, and I wouldn’t tell you anyway. We’re not friends. You don’t demand things from me. Fuck. Off.”

Bakugou takes off again.

“Fujimori…” Todoroki trails off. He hustles to keep himself in lock step with Bakugou, flanking him, refusing to be shaken off. “Just tell me why it’s Fujimori then.”

“Again, I do not fucking know what that question means. Why the fuck do you expect me to know anything? Do I look like a lawyer? Go bug Deku, you clingy piece of shit.”

“Did I hear my name?”

Bakugou rounds the corner, Todoroki in tow, and he finds himself face to face with Midoriya. Midoriya has one eyebrow quirked, hair wet from his own shower, grasping a glass of water in his hands. Midoriya’s eyes flicker between Bakugou and Todoroki.

“What… are you two up to? Uh, something fun?”

“Good.” Bakugou grabs Midoriya by the shoulders, lifts him, and spins halfway around in place. He plants Midoriya back down as a human divide between himself and Todoroki. “Deku’s here. Go bug each other.”

Midoriya looks back and forth between Bakugou and Todoroki. Worry creases his brow. “Um, okay? Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, Todoroki?”

Bakugou glances for a fraction of a second at the kitchen, and curses under his breath, and turns in place, and shoves past Todoroki and Midoriya. He stalks back to his room, where he slams the door shut and locks it. He throws himself onto his bed and buries his face in his pillow, not bothering with the lights.

There’s muffled chatter in the hall. There are footsteps pattering overhead. There is a world outside his room that has spun on without him.

The question ‘why Fujimori?’ sits like a rock in Bakugou’s chest, and he rips the pillow out from beneath himself, pressing it over his head completely.

It’s fully dark now. Bakugou has no intention of moving from bed.

It is 5:07 pm.

…

Bakugou remembers very few details from the incident, anymore.

His memories are more like wispy embers, and they burn, and they flash-ignite without warning. He remembers heat, humidity, sapping sweat dripping down his hairline and curving along his nose. Heaving breath like a swelling knife wound in his bruised chest cavity. The viscous wetness of blood mingling and running in spider veins down his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, where it painted his teeth and tasted coppery on his tongue.

He remembers rage, white hot, swamping his mind. He remembers uproarious indignation that anyone could fell him like that, crack his head open on the concrete like that, knock the air from his lungs like that, make him taste his own blood like that. He remembers his every breath being a wheezing effort. He remembers the sun searing him, blisteringly bright, when he could manage to pry his eyes open to the spinning sky above. He remembers a ringing that stole all sound from his ears.

Bakugou no longer knows anything past that. His memories aren’t his own. The ones that were are overwritten, or buried, deformed beneath the crushing weight of denial. But he hadn’t meant to. He knows he hadn’t meant to. It has to be that he hadn’t meant to.

A slamming at his door tears him from his hazy half sleep. Bakugou sits bolt-upright, and his heart is slamming in his throat.

“Yo, dude, you get dinner yet? I haven’t seen you like all day. What’s up?”

Bakugou blinks, bleary-eyed, and the clock at his bedside swims into view. It’s 8:47 pm.

Bakugou lays back down. His every nerve remains on fire.

“Go away, I’m sleeping.”

Bakugou can sense the hesitation at the door.

“Alright,” Kirishima answers, and his voice is careful. “Catch you tomorrow then.”

…

In the common area, Kirishima walks in with his fingers threaded through his loose hair, his motions agitated, and he falls onto the couch beside Midoriya.

“Yo, hey, Midoriya, you know Bakugou pretty well, yeah? Do you think something’s like, up with him?”

Midoriya looks up from his phone. Iida, sitting on the adjacent couch, slams his book shut with entirely too much force. “Bakugou had an excused absence from class today! I can confirm this, if you are worried he is shirking from his student duties.”

“Nah nah – I mean – maybe that’s part of it, I dunno. But it’s not just that he wasn’t in class but like, I haven’t seen him at all today. And I tried to go bug him just now but he shut me out.”

“Bakugou goes to bed early,” Iida continues.

“I know he does but like. I dunno. It’s different. It’s kinda reminding me of how he acted after Kamino.”

“I saw him earlier today, but just for a little bit,” Midoriya answers. “Todoroki was talking to him, then he told me to talk to Todoroki.”

“Why?”

“Um, I don’t actually know. Do you know, Todoroki?”

“I don’t know,” Todoroki answers from the floor, where he sits leaning against the couch Kirishima and Midoriya occupy. After a moment of silence, he adds in, “But it’s something bad.”

Kirishima straightens, couch springs straining beneath him. “What do you mean bad? What do you know?”

“He was with Fujimori.”

“Who’s Fujimori?” Kirishima asks. All eyes remain pinned on Todoroki, not a flash of recognition in anyone else’s face, not even Iida’s.

“He’s a U.A. lawyer.” Todoroki fidgets. “He’s… a specific kind of U.A. lawyer. I saw a lot of him, when I was very young. After Mom went away, I saw a lot of him, pretty much every day.” Subconsciously, Todoroki raises a hand to skim along the uneven skin of his left eye. “Dad was his client.”

“Oh, um, I met a couple U.A. lawyers after we rescued Eri.” Midoriya shoots a quick glance to Kirishima. “Me and Kirishima both. Bakugou’s doing a work study right now. Maybe it’s like… maybe something like Eri happened.”

Todoroki shakes his head. “You and Kirishima have not met Fujimori. Whatever U.A. lawyers you talked to, they weren’t Fujimori.”

“What makes you sure?”

Todoroki lingers in the silence. His lips part, but he says nothing immediately. He thinks long and hard on the words hanging behind his tongue. There’s a twitch along his mouth, some repressed fidget of hostility that comes slowly burning into his eyes.

“I’ve been told not to talk about Fujimori. My father has told me not to. But… I think I don’t care what my father told me.” Todoroki pushes off from the couch he is leaning on, settling toward the center of the carpet and turning in place, so that he completes a circle made of himself, Kirishima, Midoriya, and Iida. “I might still get in trouble with U.A.… But maybe I don’t care about that either.” Todoroki pauses. “Fujimori… Fujimori is a monster. Scum, the lowest and most disgusting sort of person humanity has to offer—no, not humanity. Calling human would be too generous. He’s a weapon, not a human.”

Midoriya scoots a fraction forward. His body leaks with uneasy tension. “And he’s… you said he’s someone who works for U.A.? U.A. hired him?”

“U.A. would be sunk without him,” Todoroki declares coldly. “And Fujimori… does not get involved lightly. And he would never be involved in the Eri mission, because U.A. wasn’t at fault for anything bad that happened there.”

“I…” Midoriya fidgets again, waxing uncomfortable. “I mean, um, not all the details of that mission were made public, you know. It um… that mission didn’t go as planned. I mean, I don’t… I’m not blameless, I think, for the things that went wrong.”

“Me neither,” Kirishima cuts in.

“Sir Night Eye—”

“I know Sir Night Eye died,” Todoroki responds, chillingly flat. His eyes appraise Midoriya once-over. “Did you kill Sir Night Eye?”

“No,” Midoriya answers. “Why would you even—”

“Then Fujimori was not your lawyer.”

Silence fills the room. A palpable dread sets in over them, like a blanket of fog, clammy and cold to the touch.

“What… do you think Bakugou did?” Iida asks.

“Something as bad as my father did to me and my mother,” Todoroki answers, and he does not hide the personal condemnation from his voice. “Or worse.”

…

Bakugou wakes at 6:15 am to another message from Fujimori. It requests Bakugou meet him outside once more. No dress code is specified.

Bakugou appears wearing the sweats he fell asleep in, leery eyes meeting Fujimori who stands along the same dew-swept section of street beside the U.A. dorms. Bakugou shifts furtive glances up and to the dorm windows, face racked with tension.

“People can see us from the windows,” Bakugou comments, curt.

“Does that worry you?”

“Yes. Todoroki knows you. Why the fuck does Todoroki know you?”

Fujimori lets out a good-humored chuckle. “Ah, Todoroki’s boy. Figures he may not be too fond of me.” Fujimori adjusts the suspenders digging into his shoulders. He is more casually dressed today. “Well then – here’s some excellent news for you: this will be very, very brief, so brief you don’t have to worry about being spotted with me.” Fujimori curls a smile, wide and self-satisfied on his flushed red face. “Would you like to hear another lick of good news?”

“What?”

Fujimori extends a hand, low and firm, an invite to be grasped and shaken. “All charges against you have been dropped. You’re a free man with a clean record, Katsuki Bakugou.”

Bakugou does not take Fujimori’s hand. He doesn’t so much as move. He feels as if the ringing in his ears is back. He feels again as if he’s misheard.

“…There hasn’t been a trial yet.”

“You’re right about that. We nipped it in the bud before it even reached that stage. That’s a fantastic development, because trials have their way of dragging their feet. For years, sometimes. You’re a fortunate young man.”

“How?”

“Hmm?”

“How did the charges get dropped?”

“Well I just compiled your case is all. Argued it before the district judge and the chief of police over a nice batch of chamomile tea I brewed early this morning, and they’re both exceptional, bright, reasonable men of conscience. Not one person in that room wanted to see a U.A. star’s future snuffed out before it could even begin.”

“I killed—”

“—And there’s a few weeks off, being offered to you too, courtesy of the U.A. President Nedzu himself. He wants you to take the time you need to heal from this trauma. There’s a therapist too, under U.A.’s direction, that we’d like you to meet with daily. Sorry, that part’s non-negotiable. But she’ll be good for you. You’ve been through a lot for a boy so young. Everyone just wants to see you succeed.” Fujimori steps closer, and he rests a heavy hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. “And most importantly, the events from that day are under gag order. No word of this will ever reach anyone outside that precinct or outside U.A.”

“The villain…”

“Pardon?”

“What happens to him now? With his—with the—with what’s left of him. …What happens?”

“That’s not for people like you or me to worry about. You, especially, my boy. Just focus on the happy news.” Fujimori retracts his hand, and he lumbers back toward his car. There is no attendant this time. He opens the driver’s side door and glances back to Bakugou from overtop the car. “There will be a few more meetings in the coming weeks that you’ll have to attend with my colleagues, and a few more things for you to sign, and just a few attestations. But no one will ask anything difficult of you from here-on out. The hard part’s over. Quite luckily, this may be the last you see of me.”

Fujimori tips his hat once more, and disappears into his car with the tinted windows. It’s nice—the car. It’s exceptionally too nice, and too proper, and too clean for a man like Fujimori.

The engine revs. Fujimori vanishes along with the car at the next left turn.

Bakugou is left alone in the cold clammy morning air, with the sun wicking at the grass-top dew drops mingling with the cuffs of his pants.

Time restarts for Bakugou.

Now, and only now, Bakugou feels the passing wind against his cheek, and the wetness at his ankles, and the cadence of songbirds characterized by their punctuation through time. Time is moving fast again, with him in the stream, spinning dizzyingly forward.

Fujimori is right, this news is good news, Bakugou understands that. There’s a future in front of him again. A hero path ahead of him. He can carry on. He can graduate from U.A. He can become the #1 Hero. He can surpass All Might.

Bakugou’s memory stirs.

He is stricken with the image of two eyes looking back at him, gray and befuddled, panicked and unsure. They are eyes which belong to a head, a head with belongs to a body, all atop legs too scattered to know where to run. The image is a quivering bit of prey in front of him, cowed into a quaking revolting shell. It is a thing filled with regret at the sight of the rage it spurred from Bakugou by daring to slam Bakugou into the pavement first.

Bakugou remembers pulling the pin from his gauntlet. He remembers doing it with revelry. He remembers the sweet, nigh-intoxicating high, the euphoria that came with the sense of complete command, absolute control, unchecked power, the drive to win, to win, to win.

He remembers the lock and jolt to his shoulder, now. The eruption of searing heat. The explosion ringing in his ears. And the quaking, shivering thing of prey, in a moment of panic, darting directly into the blast, when all common sense dictated that it should have darted away.

Bakugou now remembers the blast erupting into black smoke, with a smell so wretched on its wind that Bakugou had buckled on spot. Bakugou now remembers the feeling -- suddenly greasy, suddenly unclean with the blowback of the blast, suddenly sticky dripping sapping wet with—

Bakugou remembers the torched wick of a torso – with full context now, he sees it. Suspended in time. Atop legs that should not stand.

Alone now in the cold morning air, alone outside the U.A. dorms, Bakugou buckles at the waist. He doubles over, falls forward like the image so seared into his mind. He moves forward in time with the dismembered legs, both his knees and its knees hitting the ground. Bakugou’s palms strike the dew-strewn lawn, his legs sink into the wetness. He holds himself up a moment, on arms too trembling to command, with a heartbeat too slammingly loud in his ears, and he loses his stomach contents into the grass below.

…

Bakugou is in class that same day. He does not take any of the offered leave, even when Nedzu appears at his dormitory door that morning at 7:30, even when Aizawa pulls him aside at the classroom entrance to ask, in as few specifics as possible, if Bakugou really intends to be here.

Bakugou confirms both times that he’s fine, and that he’s going to class, and that he doesn’t want them to mention anything to do with this ever again.

In class, he pretends to not see when Kirishima tries to catch his attention. He pretends not to feel the cold lick of malice from Todoroki’s eyes probing his back. Hardest of all, he pretends not to notice Midoriya’s pleading look, that detestable, abhorrent disarmed expression of weakness and worry so characteristic of him.

…

The partners are presumably random, but Bakugou stares on with disgusted certainty that Midoriya’s been intentionally assigned to him for sparring practice. Each pair of students has been spread about in sparring rings around Ground Beta, ample room given between each location, such that no quirks, and no voice, could carry between any two. Only the loudspeaker affixed to the Ground Beta building issues commands to each group.

The round starts.

Bakugou squares his feet, crouched slightly, hatred burning cold in his eyes. Midoriya meets his gaze, and squares his own feet, and raises his own hands. A silent few seconds of tense nothing passes between them. Bakugou’s gauntlet-less hands itch.

“Dodge!” Bakugou barks across the makeshift arena.

Midoriya loosens his footing a fraction, confusion crawling back into his face. “You haven’t attacked me yet.”

“Well get out of the way before I do!”

“If you attack me, then I’ll dodge.”

“Well you better! Because I’m telling you to dodge!”

Midoriya blinks. Bakugou remains rooted in place. In a split second, Midoriya has bounced from his spot. He winds back a kick, the shimmer of green iridescent veins spawning like stream rivulets down his thigh, down his leg. He closes the distance between them, and Bakugou only stares back wide-eyed as Midoriya’s shin connects with his jaw.

Bakugou stumbles, face smarting, a white-hot lick of rage exploding like a cannon from within his chest. The anger swamps his mind and drowns all thought and leaves him only with the livid, licking, untamable desire to fire back.

He thrusts a palm out, arm locked in tight at the elbow, immaculately drawing Midoriya into his line of attack. Midoriya’s eyes go wide, but he is still in the air, still falling, and won’t get the chance to course correct until he hits the ground. Bakugou has the shot.

Bakugou does not take it.

Time slips around him again. Leaving him behind, knocking him at the ankles, as if he is standing knee-deep in a stream to which he does not belong. The force threatens to make him stumble. He simply stands, hand extended, the promise of an explosion sputtering behind his palm.

Midoriya lands, and Bakugou has left himself wide open.

Midoriya doesn’t take his shot either.

“Do you want to… maybe call off the fight, Kacchan?”

“No! Attack me again!” Bakugou yells, hand thrown out harder, though nothing bursts on his palms.

“I…” Midoriya hesitates. He looks around, and he lets the rivulets of power bleed away from his arms and legs. He loosens his footing, stands taller, lets the tension ease out of his body. “You know, um… After we rescued Eri, I couldn’t really do much of anything for a few days. I couldn’t even use my quirk without having to focus way too hard on it.”

“I don’t care about your stupid mission. Attack me! Attack, you damn nerd!”

“Is it… something like that for you too, Kacchan? …Is it something worse?”

“Mind your own damn business! And get out of the way before I fire at you!”

“Todoroki isn’t being too kind with his guesses. …Kirishima refuses to believe what Todoroki has to say, if that makes you feel better. But I think I know you a bit better than Kirishima, actually, and I’m not sure what to believe.”

“What makes you think I give a single shit about what Icy-Hot thinks? Or what you think?”

“Are you allowed to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“…How bad is it? The thing that happened?”

“’How bad?’” Bakugou mocks. “Not at all! Zero! Nothing! Everything got resolved this morning. Nothing’s happening. There’s nothing more to it. You can tell that to Todoroki, and tell him he can keep his prying eyes the fuck off me cuz there’s nothing more for him to see. And you can fuck off for good measure too.”

“Everything got resolved… because of Fujimori?”

“We’re still fighting. Shut up and dodge! Attack! Do something!”

“Because – what Todoroki said – is that’s what Fujimori does. He makes problems go away. No matter what. By whatever means necessary. That he’s U.A.’s ace in the hole. That U.A.’s spotless track record – its perfect reputation – for decades…” Midoriya trails off. Bakugou falters at the sight of Midoriya wiping at his own cheek with the heel of his palm. “Stupid of me, huh, Kacchan?” Midoriya says with a bitter laugh. “I just assumed U.A. put out perfect heroes, all perfect heroes. That every pro from U.A. was like All Might. That every pro from U.A. just�� could never do anything wrong. I idolized all of them. Every single one of them, for being perfect heroes. I thought Endeavor was a fluke… I wonder how many Endeavors U.A. has made?”

Bakugou lets out a strangled noise. He thrusts his right palm out with force, and he fires off a blast that lights and catches, erupting outward, hurdling toward Midoriya. Midoriya dodges it with hardly any effort, a simple step to the right and the blast does not so much as lick him. Midoriya doesn’t bother striking back just yet.

“What about you, Kacchan? …It wasn’t as bad as Endeavor, was it?”

“No—it—aggh! I told Icy-Hot it wasn’t even about me. My work-study—it’s just because my work study—”

“With Moonshot, yeah?” Deku curls a hand. He lets a wick of electric green static burst in his palm, which whips his hair with its ebb and flow. “Your work study is with Moonshot right now. Moonshot’s office is small. She only has herself and three sidekicks, and none of them are U.A. graduates. You’re the only person from U.A. working there.”

Deku strikes. His attack clips Bakugou’s left side. Bakugou bears it, not so much as a noise escaping his lips. He side-steps, ducks, and slams Midoriya beneath the ribcage with enough force to knock the wind from Midoriya’s lungs.

“You always think you’re helping, you damn fucking nerd. You’re not helping! You’re just prying into shit that doesn’t concern you. It’s over. It’s done with. And I can’t talk about it anyway! So shut up, before I make you shut up.”

Midoriya pulls in a few wheezing breathes. He coughs, and straightens, and speaks along a rasp.

“Actually… I don’t even think I’m trying to help, Kacchan. I want to help you. I always do. You know that. …But I’m afraid this might be something I can’t help with, or can’t bring myself to help you with, if Todoroki is right.”

“Icy-Hot knows nothing. He’s full of hot air and conspiracy theories, and it’s none of his business. Whatever he thinks happened is wrong, and he should shut the fuck up about it.”

“Are you sure he’s wrong… King Explosion Murder?”

“Shut up.” Bakugou’s palms crackle, and he squares his feet again. “Shut up and di--… Shut up and fight me.”

Bakugou doesn’t wait for a response. He throws himself right into the fray, with the one and only goal of firing his explosions off in quick enough succession to prevent Midoriya from getting another word in.

…

“Sensei! Sensei Sensei!”

Aizawa pauses at the sound of pounding mechanical feet hitting pavement, the rumble of vibrations shaking the ground, and fence, and rubble near Ground Beta. A wetness has stirred in the air, the threat of an impending thunderstorm.

“Iida, I was just coming to collect eve—”

“There’s a fight! Uh—well of course there are fights as this is a sparing match exercise but there is a fight which is not part of the designated sparing activity I mean! I’ve come to report an incident of student violence which I witnessed! I saw it happen and promptly came to find an authority figure and luckily you’re right here but I request you accompany me back to the meeting grounds where—”

“Who?”

“Bakugou, and—”

“Midoriya,” Aizawa concludes.

Iida shakes his head, frantic, spinning on spot and motioning Aizawa to follow as his suited legs take off once more. “Not Midoriya! Todoroki…”

Aizawa falters, and then he picks up his pace to match Iida. He steels himself, and it takes no longer than 20 seconds of threading through rubble for the two of them to round the corner, and enter the scene which had already announced itself with the rising cacophony of voices from 30 feet out.

With a split-second glance, Aizawa gleans three immediate pieces of information from the gaggle of 19 assembled students standing at the center of the training ground.

One, that Bakugou has been knocked down to the pavement, soles of his shoes, seat of his pants, and palms of his hands flat to the ground, left cheek split and leaking blood, with a creeping redness threatening to swell many times over in size across the breadth of the wound.

Two, that Midoriya has grasped Todoroki from behind, his arms looped up beneath Todoroki’s armpits and locked in place in a forceful attempt to restrain Todoroki, who’s lashing against the hold.

Three, that Todoroki’s right fist is split and bleeding, and he is staring down at Bakugou with the spark of murderous intent in his eyes.

“Tell me what you mean by ‘It’s been resolved’. It’s over? Meaning Fujimori already— What did you get away with? I think I know. I think I know what you did. So tell me I’m wrong. Tell me what that scumbag let you get away with.”

Bakugou says nothing. He raises his left hand to his cheek, pressing lightly. A heavy raindrop falls from above, landing with a patter on his cheek.

Todoroki pulls against Midoriya. “Answer me!”

“Todoroki!” Aizawa shouts. He marches forward, eyes alight with his quirk activation, though there is no need for it. Neither boy has used his quirk.

“This bastard’s been meeting with Fujimori.” Todoroki thrusts a hand out, index finger extended, sharp in its accusation as he turns bodily to Aizawa. “And whatever he did, he got off scot-free this morning! He’s bragging about it!”

“Todoroki. That’s enough.”

“He needs to tell us!” Todoroki challenges. A rumble of thunder affixes itself along the end of his words, as if chorusing agreement. “How can we be comfortable calling Bakugou a classmate until we know?”

“Midoriya, you can let him go. I’ve got this under control.” Aizawa’s eye flicker to Midoriya, who blinks, and hesitantly releases his arms from Todoroki.

Todoroki looks between Aizawa and Midoriya, his confidence wavering. “Sensei, you know who Fujimori is. You have to know who he is. You’ve been at U.A. long enough.”

“Yes, I know who Fujimori is. He’s a U.A. employee. Not a villain.”

“Then you don’t know who Fujimori is.” Todoroki counters. He thrusts both hands out. “He’s the reason my mom—he’s the reason my dad—he’s the reason I—” Todoroki catches himself all three times, unable to, or perhaps forbidden from saying more.

He backtracks, calms himself, a glint of desperation lighting in his eyes. Todoroki turns in place, bodily facing Bakugou once more. “Just defend yourself. Just tell me what happened. If you’re innocent then clear your name, and just tell us what Fujimori wanted with you! Why can’t you do that? Why?”

“Todoroki that is enough. This is not like you, and it is not acceptable,” Aizawa growls this time. He stalks forward, using himself as a means of separation between the boys, and he grips Todoroki by the shoulder. “I think you’re letting your personal feelings get in the way of common rationality. My office. With me. Now.”

Todoroki appraises Aizawa, and then his eyes go wide. A few more heavy drops leak from the blackened clouds above. They plick across Todoroki’s face, riding his expression, loosening with shock.

Todoroki opens his mouth, and the energy has been sapped from his words.

“…You know. You know what it is, don’t know? You’re part of this. You really are okay with this.”

“Not another word until we reach my office, Todoroki. If you defy me, I’ll consider it grounds for suspension.” Aizawa turns in place, and he surveys the rest of the class with deathly cold eyes. “Midoriya, Iida, take Bakugou to Recovery Girl’s office. Everyone else, get back to the dorm. I don’t want to hear a word about this by tomorrow morning, understood? The threat of suspension extends to all of you.”

There is a palpable unease in the air that rides along the rumble of the clouds. The rest of the students nod, Uraraka and Asui with a prick of tears at the corner of their eyes. Wordlessly, Iida extends a hand for Bakugou to grab, and lifts him from the ground.

Kirishima throws one last worried look in Bakugou’s direction as the skies fully open. The class is caught in the downpour, the scenery effaced by a thick sheet of heavy rain. The three boys vanish from view, and Kirishima raises an arm overtop his head for cover, and he joins the others headed back to the dorm.

…

Class begins wordlessly the next day. No one dares to mention it, but everyone has noticed Todoroki’s empty desk. The threat of suspension, of following in Todoroki’s footsteps, cows everyone into compliance. Bakugou sits stiff in his own seat, his insides too mangled, his dreams too riddled with his haunting memories playing on repeat to afford him more than a few moments of uninterrupted sleep the previous night. He feels full of cotton, his stomach in knots, his brain too much a hazy mess to make sense of what’s unfolded. His jaw has swollen, hot to the touch.

Aizawa enters, his face blank and tired. He shuffles a few papers and greets the class with a monotone Good morning. Most voices echo the greeting back, but quieter, mumbled. Only Iida seems to muster the energy for a proper greeting. The downpour from the previous day has lightened, but not vanished. It plicks against the muted gray windows, sealing in the atmosphere.

“The bin for your English essays is now on the front table. Present Mic says you may turn them in any time between now and Friday. Late submissions will not be accepted.” Aizawa shuffles the papers in his hands. “Also, we have another announcement.” Aizawa nods to the doorway. Faces turn.

Shinsou stands at the entrance, face drawn into a bit of a grimace. He rubs at his neck and looks away. “Um… Hi. I’m Hitoshi Shinsou. Some of you already know me.”

No one answers him, because the class already knows Shinsou, and they’re all weary of what answering him may lead to. On a different day, friendliness might have won out over fear. Today, no one can muster the optimism.

“He’s transferring into 1-A starting today. Please extend a warm welcome.”

Silence beats around them. Iida manages a clipped greeting. A few more students nod. Bakugou watches it all unfold from his hazy fog.

Shinsou is no more lively in his acknowledgement of his introduction. He looks away, hoisting his bag on his shoulder, and shuffles down the aisle. He reaches Todoroki’s seat, and places his bag atop it, and sits down.

Midoriya’s chair screeches backward. He is standing, his face a mask of concern. “Uh, Sensei, Shinsou, um, that’s Todoroki’s desk. Todoroki sits there.”

“Todoroki has decided to transfer to Shiketsu High School, effective today,” Aizawa states simply. “Sit down, Midoriya, and raise your hand in the future if you wish to speak.”

Bakugou feels the ripple through the air. The potent unease. The prickle of disbelief that comes in just the form of a few slipped gasps, a few wide eyes swinging to Todoroki’s seat, and then swinging over to him, as if staring at him may reveal the answers they’re never allowed to know.

The haze in Bakugou’s brain won’t let him think. It’s made worse by his own shock, and his own disbelief, and his own gnawing discomfort in his gut when he looks over, and finds Todoroki absent from his seat.

It’s Kirishima’s pained eyes that he accidentally meets in the process.

“Bro… what’s happening?” Kirishima leans across the aisle. He speaks as quietly as he can for someone suppressing shock. “Please man, please just tell me it isn’t anything bad. Tell me Todoroki was wrong. Please dude. Please, I just gotta know you didn’t—”

“Kirishima!” Aizawa barks from the front of the room. Kirishima goes stock-still, spine stiff, head snapping forward to face the teacher. Aizawa turns to face the board, and he grabs a piece of chalk, snapped at the midpoint, and begins to write textbook page numbers on the board. “Not another word on the topic. I thought I made myself clear yesterday, or would you like to be an example?” Aizawa turns, and lifts an eyebrow in Kirishima’s direction. Kirishima, white in the face, shakes his head. “Good. I didn’t think so. Now be quiet. Class is starting.”

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #violence //#non-canon character death //#angst //#hello welcome to a bad idea that got worse.

738 notes · View notes

aster-aspera · 3 years

Photo

It’s just my skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: loss of hearing

Pairings: (platonic) jonmartim

Warnings: claustrophobia, hospitals, hearing loss

Masterlist

If you liked it please reblog <3

The aftermath isn’t as quiet as Tim thought it would be.

Maybe it’s the fact that he isn’t dead even though he should be, maybe it’s the dreadful ringing in his ear, maybe it’s the way his chest is heaving in gasping breaths he can’t hear.

There’s a thousand pounds of stone pressing down on his back and somewhere far above him he can feel the ground rumble and shift. He can’t even find it in himself to worry about the whole place coming down. He wasn't planning on making it out alive either way.

He thinks he floats in and out of consciousness for a bit. Time seems to wind and stretch and loop back, only the rubble on his back and the incessant ringing to keep him company.

Something shifts eventually, a change in the air at first, the darkness becoming just a bit softer, a bit less cloying.

And then there are hands and stretchers and needles and people pulling and prodding him and over it all is still that high pitched ringing, rising higher and higher into an impossible crescendo. He thinks they ask him things, he is sure he sees their lips moving and their expectant gazes. He thinks he tries to say something, but his lips feel awkward and unwieldy.

Everything goes dark after that. A cool blessed darkness where he just floats, no stone, no rubble, no dust, just peace.

He thinks about Danny for a while, and the ritual and the burning collapse of it all and the way Sasha smiled at him every morning when he came into the archives. Then he just sleeps.

He wakes up a bit more coherent the next time. The ringing isn’t gone yet, but at least his brain doesn’t feel like it’s through different planes of dimensions at a hundred kilometres per hour anymore. At least now he can breathe without the dust clogging his lungs.

He looks around the overbright hospital room, the disconnected monitor and the IV dripping a clear fluid into his veins. There’s a bouquet of orange flowers on the bedside table. Probably from Martin, he thinks bitterly. There’s no one else who would go through the trouble.

Martin walks into his room at some point and Tim wonders why he’s here and not hovering around Jon like some lost puppy. Maybe Jon didn’t make it out of the explosion.

Something sharp and painful shoots through Tim’s chest at the thought and he does his best not to examine it too closely.

He looks up at Martin, whose lips are moving as he fusses with the flowers on the little table. Tim stares up at him uncomprehendingly, waiting for sound to come through, waiting for that unbearable ringing to resolve itself into something he can understand.

It doesn’t.

“I can’t hear,” He says, his lips forming the words, his vocal cords vibrating, but no sound comes out, not to him at least. Martin looks up at him with concern, his mouth moving in shapes that should have been familiar, had they been accompanied by the right noises.

“I can’t hear,” Tim says again. And this time, it doesn’t come out half as controlled. He can feel something very close to panic crawling it’s way up his throat and he doesn’t quite manage to swallow it down.

Martin presumably says something else, before giving up and typing something on his phone, shoving it into Tim’s hands before stalking out of the room.

Getting a doctor, stay here

Well of course he’s going to stay here, does Martin really think he’s going to wander around London when he’s just survived an explosion? He isn’t Jon.

He waits impatiently in his bed, rubbing the uncomfortably thin hospital sheets between his fingers and trying to adjust the flat pillows so he can sit up.

Eventually the doctors come in and once again, it’s back to being poked and prodded. Doctors examining his ears and brain and all the million scans they take, with Martin occasionally coming in to hover over him, bringing along coffee from the cafeteria.

In the end, the verdict is predictable. Permanent damage from his proximity to the explosion. Figures he couldn’t just walk out of that unscathed.

And most people would probably consider being permanently deaf better than being dead. Tim wasn’t too sure he agreed with them yet.

They let him go home eventually, with a whole laundry list of instructions on how to care for himself. Tim throws the papers into a corner as soon as he gets home. He’ll be fine, he’s survived Jane Prentiss, he can survive this. And it isn’t like it matters much.

His phone buzzes to life when he sticks it into the socket, all the messages he missed streaming in at once, a tidal wave of promotional mails and push notifications. He’s half tempted to just shut it off again when he notices one text notification between all the others.

Jon

Martin had told him he was alive, of course. But something about seeing his name displayed black on white on his phone screen drives the point home in a way Martin’s scribbled notes hadn’t done. Something sharp and hot shoots through his chest and he wants desperately for it to be that familiar anger that carried him through the last few months.

But as he lets his head fall back onto the couch, he can’t quite feel it burn the same, and without its familiar warmth, he feels hollow in a way he hasn’t since Danny died.

He swipes away the message without reading it and curls up on the couch, pulling an old, dusty blanket over himself and shutting his eyes. He tries not to think too much of the darkness after the explosion, of the plaster dust swirling through the air and settling in his lungs, of the stone crushing his limbs at awkward angles.

A dark apartment isn’t much like a collapsed building but his brain doesn’t care when it brings up vivid images of his time under the rubble. Despite it all, he does eventually drift into the comforting darkness of sleep, his slumber taking the pain and weariness out of his bones for just a moment.

It’s peaceful, till he wakes up gasping from a nightmare.

His desk rattles slightly when a heavy book is dropped on it and Tim looks up in annoyance, ignoring the painful squeezing in his chest when he meets Jon’s tired, regretful eyes.

‘Learning sign’ The book proclaims and Tim feels irritation bubbling up.

“Fuck off,” He says, focusing his attention once again on his desk.

‘I know sign, I can help, or at least recommend you some classes/books’ Jon informs him through the notes app on his phone.

“I don’t need your help.”

‘I know you don’t, but I’d like to'

“Why? So you can feel better about everything that happened? You think this is going to fix it?”

‘I’m sorry Tim’

“Sorry is too late,” he bites out, shoving out of his chair roughly. He tries to move past Jon, make it out of this stifling, dusty room, get somewhere it doesn’t feel like the walls are watching him.

A rough, calloused hand shoots out, wraps around his wrist like a vice. Jon’s eyes are dark with concern and Tim feels an odd anger at the expression. How can he show so much empathy after everything that happened?

He looks at the hand wrapped around his wrist and suddenly, it’s all just too much.

The deafening ringing in his ears, this wretched place that trapped him and choked him and took his best friend from him. And Jon, eyes still hopeful, still compassionate, after Tim had blamed him and hurt him for months on end.

“Go away,” He tries to say and he doesn’t even make it to the first syllable before his voice betrays him with a choked sob. A shudder runs through him and he looks down at the wooden floor, trying to compose himself.

The grief has never felt as all consuming as it does in this moment and it chokes and burns and pulls him under all at once.

And then, there are arms around him. A familiar touch, a familiar weight, from days so long ago Tim can barely remember them. The first touch that isn’t hostile, the first comfort he has felt in so long.

And it’s all from the man he’s tried to hate for months.

His hands curl themselves tightly into Jon’s cardigan and he buries his face in his shoulder, biting back tears with all his might. It doesn’t do much good against the tidal wave of emotions sweeping through him and soon he’s shaking all over with the sobs that wrack through his body.

Jon’s hand comes up in a familiar movement, brushing through Tim’s messed up curls. It’s hesitant at first, as if Tim will yell at him again, but when he makes no motion to do so, only melting deeper into the hold, the fingers carding through his hair become surer.

There’s a rumble against his cheek as Jon says something and Tim wishes desperately he could still hear it, hear Jon’s sure and steadying voice.

He remembers when, near the beginning of it all, he would stand in the corridor outside of Jon’s office and listen as his voice drifted through the halls, all the pain and fear and emotions painted so clearly on it. He’d always thought Jon a bit ridiculous for the way he read those statements. Now he just wished he could hear it one more time.

He closes his eyes as the loss of his family and his friend and even his hearing tear through his chest, leaving him shattered and shaking.

Jon’s chest rumbles again and Tim presses his cheek into it, pretending for just a moment he can hear a sound that isn’t the awful ringing.

Another pair of hands close around him, softer ones, broader ones. They pull him up gently and he’s not entirely sure how they both ended up on the floor, it probably has something to do with how broad he is and how skinny Jon is.

He’s pulled close against a soft, broad chest and relaxes into it almost immediately. Martin’s safe, he always has been.

He’s deposited gently on the cot, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a warm mug of tea pressed into his hands. He feels a bit like a child, being coddled and carted around. But right now, he can’t find it in himself to care.

He thinks Jon and Martin are saying stuff. Martin’s chest is rumbling against his back and he tilts his face so he can feel it better. Martin runs a comforting hand along his face, brushing away the tears that stick to it.

A hand settles on his knee, comforting and grounding and he’s sure it’s Jon’s. Both of Martin’s hands are occupied holding him together after all.

He closes his eyes. He can deal with the mess of it all tomorrow.

Right now, he just feels safe. His friends are here and that’s enough.

#tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #tim stoker #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jontim #jonmartim #martim #jonmartin #i do not know how to tag for this fandom yet #anyway tell me if i missed any warnings #bad things happen bingo #my writing

76 notes · View notes

thanksjro · 3 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #33: In Which I Write the Word ‘Quantum‘ 19 Times

Dang, I forgot what happened at the end of the last issue. It was pretty important, too, but I don’t have time to reread. Maybe the establishing shot can help me out?

Oh, that’s right, Rewind happened!

Everyone’s pretty jazzed that Rewind is here, non-exploded, and supposedly alive. Megatron carries this ridiculously small man over to a table, while Skids is busy admonishing Nightbeat for trying to put the pieces of this mystery together.

That’s one of the two first canonically, openly gay Transformers, Megatron. You bet your ass he’s important.

Nightbeat’s dragged Nautica over to look at that poster for Crosscut’s play they saw last issue. Together, they discover something interesting, and it’s not that Nightbeat’s chin has elongated to the point of absurdity. On this future ship, the play was completed and produced a mere few weeks after the initial launch of the Lost Light.

While this is going on, Rewind wakes up and asks Skids what the hell is going on. Skids, likely not wanting to poke at farm-fresh trauma, glosses over the fact that everyone on this ship was violently murdered, and that they found Rewind blacked out inside the hollowed torso of his brother-in-law.

…This is a dark story line.

You see, the joke here is that “Dark Cybertron” sucked major chrome.

Megatron reminds everyone that they’re still in grave danger every moment they stay aboard this ship, but Skids is more concerned with Rewind’s mental health. Which is sweet, but maybe not the thing to prioritize in such a precarious situation.

Rewind takes the fact that Megatron is an Autobot now pretty friggin’ well, as well as the introduction of gender into his species. That is, until Nightbeat, the king of social graces, saunters up to the scene to ask Rewind what the hell happened to the ship. He does get his answers, despite Rewind being horrified to the point of speechlessness.

Over at the hole in the wall, Nautica and Riptide are taking a gander at the quantum drums, which house the quantum foam for the quantum engines so quantum jumps can happen.

As Nautica explains the process by which quantum travel works, she realizes that the answer to what happened to everyone who disappeared was right in front of them this whole time.

Quantum, quantum, quantum- doesn’t even sound like a word anymore, does it?

The data slug Rewind made corroborates this theory, showing a series of events that definitely didn’t happen to the Lost Light we’ve been following throughout this story so far. The data slug contains this Rewind’s version of dead Rewind’s “Little Victories”, the travelogue that was never completed, where the question “are you happy?” revealed just how emotionally unhealthy most of the crew is. I’d like to imagine this Rewind’s film is called “Small Achievements”, or perhaps “Dear Fucking Lord, We’ve Been on this Trip for Three Hours and the Captain Has Been Killed by a Goddamned Soul-Vampire”, or maybe even “Where the FUCK is Our Therapist”.

The DJD came into the equation by way of someone having led them to the Lost Light. We get a flashback panel of the gorefest, in which Tarn appears to have learned how to fly, given the angle he’s coming from.

Because Rewind’s big thing in this series is being the guy who records stuff, the DJD take the opportunity to make some movies of their visit to the space yacht.

James, why do you keep getting Rewind involved with snuff films? I’m starting to get concerned.

Now, the thing about Rewind is that he’s almost always accompanied by his other half. Where is Chromedome, anyway?

He’s dead, that’s where.

Turns out, when you tell the DJD that you won’t do the thing they want you to do, they have a habit of doing nasty things in retaliation. Chromedome got stabbed in the friggin’ visor with his own finger needles, because Vos enjoys ironic deaths, I suppose. There’s some other stuff that’s implied to have happened, but we’ll get to that once we learn a little more about the DJD themselves.

While Rewind recounts the grisly tale of his husband’s demise, Riptide notes that the quantum foam has begun to spread at a remarkable rate. This is a bad thing, because that shit can and will explode, given half the chance, and this wreck is floating right above a potentially-inhabited planet.

Though I could have sworn we established that this planet was a Smartplanet, and therefore very much populated by students and staff. I don’t know. Maybe we conveniently forgot that, so we could make this a learning moment for Megatron.

Jiminy Christmas, Megs, do you even listen to yourself?

Skids, who has had a very long day of finding corpses and learning about quantum theory, snaps at Megatron, telling him that in order to actually be an Autobot, you have to have a little frickin’ compassion for those outside of your peer group.

Which is sort of contradictory to the Aequitas trials, the Killswitch debacle, the POW situation back on Cybertron, and whatever the fuck Prowl’s whole deal is, but maybe Skids is speaking about his own, personal relationship with being an Autobot. Hopefully so, otherwise he needs a class on critical thinking, STAT.

Never mind all of that though, because the problem just got a lot worse- the quantum foam has expanded to a point where any holes in the stuff are too small for the Rod Pod to get through. We’re going to have to get creative if we want to save the day.

Luckily, we’ve got a quantum duplicate of just about the tiniest little dude in the franchise here to do the job. Now we just need another, equally tiny little man, so the quantum drums can be shut off at the same time. Nautica commits more microaggressions, and this gives Getaway inspiration for a witty quip, which in turn gives Skids a brilliant idea.

The gang heads down to Brainstorm’s lab, to look for the mass displacement gun that was used for treating Ultra Magnus’s nanocon infestation back in the 2012 Annual. While they search, Nautica explains just why the hell the Lost Light disappeared in the first place. You see, quantum duplication acts on the Cain Instinct— it’s fine, as long as the duplicates don’t perceive each other. However, the moment contact is made, it says “oh man, guess I’m gonna have to end you” to one of the duplicates. The contact in this case happened when the Coffin Rodimus was brought aboard the ship.

Anything that wasn’t aboard the Lost Light at the point of the takeoff/explosion was never duplicated, and thus wasn’t erased from reality once shit started going to hell. This is why the Rod Pod is still around, and why the remaining cast are— well, the remaining cast.

While this conversation is going on, Nautica and Nightbeat uncover yet another dead body; it’s Brainstorm, and he’s a little underdressed.

…Someone run a paternity test, I think Cyclonus might be the father.

Also, Brainstorm’s a double agent.

Fucked up.

Getaway is furious that a Decepticon has been living on the same ship as him for the last six months, right under his proverbial nose. Even Megatron’s surprised, stating that Brainstorm isn’t usually who the recruiters aim for.

So, no mass displacement gun, and now they’re aware of the fact that there’s a traitor on the ship who’s had access to a LOT of weapon tech. It’s at this point that Megatron decides to stop lying by omission and tells everyone that he can mass-displace, since he used to turn into a handgun.

Smashcut to Megatron and Rewind floating out in space, the former now not much taller than the latter, as they traverse the web of quantum foam to get to the drums. Nautica instructs them from the Rod Pod. If this works, anything produced or connected to the quantum engine will be neutralized, and maybe we’ll even get the other Lost Light back! YAAAAAY!!!

Y’all really let this man go out there to fuckin’ kill himself for the greater good, didn’t you?

Rewind is honestly pretty chill with ceasing to be, seeing as he watched 200/+ people die today, including his long-time spouse.

Jesus. I’d say get him a therapist, but in order to do that, we’re going to have to wipe him off the map anyway.

Rewind asks Megatron if the Chromedome that isn’t his and his duplicate are still together. And I mean…

Luckily, Megatron has the good sense to lie.

With that, they flip the switches, and deactivate the drums.

And that’s a series wrap on Rewind! Congrats to Mr. James Roberts for the esteemed honor of burying the same gay twice!

Later on, everyone is back inside the Rod Pod, as their disappeared shipmates return from being nonexistent. Chromedome pops back in, and Skids is on him like a shark, telling him to go on the roof. Skids doesn’t even try to explain why. Which, fair. How the hell do you explain to someone that their dead husband’s quantum duplicate survived both a terrorist splinter cell attack, and the laws of quantum sci-fi bullshit crashing down on his tiny, tiny body, and that he’s right there on the roof waiting for them?

Welp, there goes the Chromedome/Dominus endgame. Shame, that.

Looks like Chromedome finally hit the threshold for having earned Roberts’ pity, and won’t be directly targeted by the plot for a little while. This isn’t something you see very often, so let’s really soak this in.

…Someone had to have told Rewind what happened to the other Rewind, right? I wonder what that conversation was like.

Back inside the ship, Blaster gets word that the Lost Light has reappeared. As they navigate towards it, Megatron requests that an encrypted call be made to Rodimus, to discuss the Brainstorm problem.

In the interim, Ravage is offered the opportunity to be a part of the crew, so he doesn’t have to keep skulking around in the shadows. We don’t get an answer from him, as our focus shifts over to Nightbeat and Nautica.

Nightbeaaaaaaaaaat, stop stating the themes of the comic verbatim! People are going to start thinking you’re a shonen anime protagonist!

Nightbeat’s somehow managed to keep ahold of the briefcase that they found on the other Lost Light. Unless Brainstorm’s boyfriend is in there, I don’t think this one was the work of Huey Lewis and the News’ hit single from the Back to the Future soundtrack.

Over on the Lost Light, specifically in Swerve’s, Brainstorm’s making his way through the crowd, briefcase held gentle like hamburger as he goes. He makes it to the bar, where Atomizer tells him he can’t have his briefcase in here. Brainstorm has what most would accept to be a healthy response to being told “no.”

It’s what I would do.

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #slaughterhouse #issue 33 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

206 notes · View notes

sweetyaoigirl · 3 years

Note

Hii, could you write an angst/fluff Deidara x Reader where was Dei hurt during a fight and after he was not returning home, reader would go to look for him and then after she found him, she would take care of his injuries.

Yes of course ^^

I hope you enjoy anon <3

Warnings: Blood, cursing, little bit yandere reader

(Also Deidara is a bit tsundere X3)

It was another boring day as usual in the Akatsuki base.

I woke up and the first thing I noticed is that Deidara is missing.

Early mission ? Yeah but he will be fine. I'm just worried about how many people will he blow up again. Actually I'm not. I don't care about the others. I was only invited to the Akatsuki because of my assassin skills.

Even if leader praise me I simply don't care. In my opinion Deidara is the only normal person here.

Also the most important person to me. I took a liking to that evil terrorist man.

Everyone in the base is teasing me about that.

They are even making fun of me that how can I love someone who is smaller than me. (if you are not that tall reader-chan I'm sorry you can read it how you want X3 ) .

Some days I would like to slice their throats open. But I can't do that because of leader. And Deidara would also be not happy about that.

But because of my assassin skills they can't predict my moves since my kunai is pressed against their throats long time ago.

I smile as I prepared my breakfast thinking about flustrated Deidara every time I compliment his art.

His cheeks always turn pink and says that he knows it even without me saying that. He is so cute when he is like that. If only he knew about my little crush towards him. The whole base already knows that but only Dei is the one who is so blind. But it doesn't matter. I ate my breakfast and sat on my bed.

So how should I spend my free day without mission ? I guess I should paint my nails. The color is coming off. I grabbed my nail polish that was on my shelf and I painted my nails f/c.

When it dried off I stood up and admired my painted nails.

Good. I walked my way to Deidara's room and gently opened the door in case some explosion would fly off.

He used to prepare traps because of Tobi.

When I fully opened the door I noticed all the mess on the floor. He was probably in hurry and leaved his room messy. Geez.

I'm bored so I guess I will clean it. I lazily started cleaning room and when I finished I tossed myself on his bed.

He should be grateful. But I can't just lay on the bed the whole day. I should go train for the rest of the day. By that time Deidara should be back. I stood up and go outside.

The weather was nice, ideal for training.

Let's get started.

Timeskip

It was night already so I decided to return to the base. Deidara should be here any minute. I will make him something for dinner. I started preparing food with a smile on my face.

I put a lot of oil in the meat to make it more delicious and when it was finished I placed it on the table with my eyes widened. It was a little burn up but the taste should be fine. In that minute Sasori came to kitchen and looked at the food that was on the plate.

What is that ? Even my puppets wouldn't eat that if they could to. Sasori said as he leaved.

I grabbed a pan and clenched my fist.

I hate to admit it but he's right. I'm not really expert at cooking but I tried. And he is puppet too so what was he trying to say ? Nevermind I will just lay here and wait for Deidara. I made myself comfortable on the chair I was sitting and laid my head on my hands.

Soon I drifted into a deep sleep.

When I woke up I rubbed my eyes and noticed Zetsu eating human. Great right in front of me.

Hey ! Did Deidara returned ? I asked the plant creature.

He just ate the human and disappeared without saying anything.

Weird creature. At least answer me.

I will go ask the others about Deidara. Maybe they know something.

After I asked every single member nothing came out of their mouths. What is wrong with them ? I'm pretty sure Deidara already had a birthday. Everyone is acting weird. Even Tobi was silent when I asked him. He is the loudest member of the Akatsuki and he should be worried about Deidara. I mean he is always calling him senpai senpai which is pissing me off but now nothing. No I didn't asked everybody. Leader gave him the mission so he should answer me.

I knocked on his door and no one came off. Maybe he is not here. Just when I wanted to leave the door opened and revealed Pain himself.

Leader can I ask about Deidara's mission ? When will he come back ?

Out of my way. I'm busy. He said in that cold tone in his voice.

Even leader ? What is wrong with them ?

Deidara should be already back. He should be here even sooner since he is using his clay bird. I sneaked into the leader's office to search for the files about Deidara's mission. So 2 days mission huh. He should be back today. I was worrying for nothing. Maybe that's why leader didn't answered me.

He is going to be fine. He is going to be fine. I'm sure of it. But my mind was saying something else. Is he okay ? Or is he already coming back ?

No no calm down Y/N. He is going to be fine. If he won't return today, he should be here early in the morning. I reassured myself.

But all day I thought only of Deidara. I don't have a good feeling about this. I came out of the base and sat next to big rock.

I hugged myself as I continued trembling.

Come back as soon as you can Dei. I closed my eyes and few tears escaped from my eyes.

I woke up at the next day but Deidara was nowhere to be seen.

This is bad. He should be here. Something must happened. I must go save him. But I don't know where he is. What should I do ?

The files...

Of course I just need to read where he is.

I sneaked into the office to read about Deidara's mission.

Near the hidden wind village ? I will be right there. Wait for me Deidara. Just be safe. I packed a bunch of kunai and mini shurikens just in case and run away from the akatsuki base.

I was running for my life to get in here as soon as possible.

Did they outnumbered him ? The wind village is very dangerous place even I know that.

Damn it why is it so far ?! How many days will it took me to get here ? There is nothing I can do about it. I must just run.

Why did leader let Deidara go alone ? Even he knows that it is very dangerous country.

Another timeskip ╰(▔∀▔)╯

I made it in one day. That is incredible. Okay where is Dei ? I noticed someone laying on ground and run up to the it seemed like wounded person.

When I look closely it was Deidara.

T-that's no way. Deidara wake up ! Come on you are not dead are you ? Wake up this is not funny !

Hey....

Don't leave me Dei. I placed my hand on top of his bloody hand.

Are you kidding ? There is no way you can die that easily. I sobbed.

W-who i-is there ? Deidara asked.

It's me Deidara. Y/N. I said now with a smile on my face.

W-wha what a-are you doing here ? He asked weakly.

You were not coming back and I was worried about you. I said.

Y-you came a little late. I can't feel my leg. I don't even know if I still have my leg. Deidara chuckled.

What ? I checked his leg and my eyes widened.

With my eyes I could tell he was stabbed more like twenty times.

His entire leg was covered with his blood.

I can't believe that you survived that. Why didn't you come back ?

T-there were so many of them. I-I'm not asking for your help. He caughed blood from his mouth.

His entire body is covered with nasty wounds.

I will help you stand up Deidara.

W-who asked you to help me hmm ?

I came on my own ! I will help you if you like it or not. I placed his hand around my neck.

Do whatever you want. He said avoiding my gaze.

Is your other leg okay ?

Yeah. I can move freely with my other leg un. B-but I'm not saying thank you.

You don't need to. I'm afraid you will lose more blood if we keep walking the whole time to the base. I should have bring some healing supplies.

Don't talk nonsense. Let's move. I faced death so many times.

But now you have someone who cares about you !

I don't care if someone cares about me or not. Just go away.

Deidara are you okay ? Hey stay with me ! He is losing a lot of blood. There is no chance that he will survive if we keep moving.

Y/N I'm afraid that we will not make it in time to the base.

I have my last words.

What are you saying ? Stop joking.

Tell Sasori danna that my art is better than his.

This is your last words ? You idiot. I smiled at him with tears rolling on my face.

And I want to tell you something too. I always admired you. You are such a fine women un. Too bad I won't see you again.

I will watch over you. Deidara fell on ground.

Stop joking ! You are not dying ! This isn't even like you to say such a nice words to me. Or is it because you are really dying ? I clenched my fists as I fell on my knees.

Don't leave me don't leave me don't leave don't leave me don't leave me !!!! I yelled.

No. I refuse to accept this ! I won't let you die ! I know that you can still survive. We will get to the base in no time.

I ripped a fabric from my shirt and wrapped it around Deidara's leg.

The wince in pain means that he is still alive. Thank Jashin.

We crossed the river and I tried to clean his wounds.

When I saw the wounds that were deep and the blood were escaping from them, I ripped my shirt again many times in order to bandage all the wounds.

I'm glad that I'm wearing my Akatsuki cloak because I used almost the whole shirt for Deidara's wounds.

I panted heavily as I dragged Deidara with me. I couldn't feel my legs but I kept walking. I don't know how many hours are we even walking.

With a lot of breaks and walking I looked up at the two rock platforms.

We are home Deidara. I turned to face the still unconscious Deidara.

I opened his door with my leg and gently laid him on the bed.

I changed his bandages and cleaned his wounds.

Ughhh. He grunted.

It might hurt a little bit but you will be okay. I caressed his cheek and it seemed like he calmed down.

I came to my room to put something on beneath my akatsuki cloak and then I returned to Deidara's room. He was sleeping peacefully so I decided to let him rest.

The next day Deidara finally woke up.

Where am I un ? He asked still sleepy.

In the base. I'm suprised that you woke up so soon. I said.

You ! You bringed me here ?! Alone ? Are you out of your mind ?! Who would go so far for me ?!!

Me. I'm so glad that you are okay. I hugged him tightly.

Ow ow my wounds ! Are you out of your mind ? Who allowed you to hug me un ?!

Sorry I couldn't helped myself. I just want to say welcome back. I said shily.

You are really big idiot going so far for me. He smiled.

Is that true that I'm important to you ? I asked.

What ? What are you saying un ?

You said it. You even said that it's too bad I won't see you again. Do you feel the same like me ? I asked all curious.

Shut up ! I never said something like that. It must be your imagination. I would never say something like that even if I would die. Deidara crossed his arms.

Is that so ? But I remember that you said it. I teased.

Leave me alone ! I would never say such a bullshit.

Right right. I will leave you now. I opened the door my leg already outside but voice stopped me.

Wait ! Maybe what I said is true but don't you dare say it to others you got it un ?!

I smiled at his confession.

Yes don't worry. It will be our secret. I winked at him.

Also.....thank you......for saving me. He tried to hide his blush but I noticed it.

I will never let something bad happen to you ever again Dei.

Shut up ! Just because you are a little bit taller than me doesn't mean that I can't protect you too !

So you would protect me too ?

I-I didn't said that ! Just shut up !!!

#deidara x reader #akatsuki x reader #deidara x you #deidara x y/n #naruto x reader #deidara #tsundere deidara x yandere reader #naruto x you #naruto x y/n

74 notes · View notes

wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

WandaNat x Reader : Angel

Summary: You are their guardian angel.

Warning: Language, Injuries

Word Count: 2,159

* * * * * *

Your foot taps nervously against the bottom of the stool, eyes fixed on the folder in front of you, that contains the briefing of your mission. Nerves trying to further expel themselves through the clinking of your nails against the glass mug of tea.

Your mission in Vienna.

The first mission you’ve had overseas.

Being the newest member of the Avengers meant countless months of training until the team deemed you fit to go on missions. And even then you had to continue to prove that you’re ready to go further than you had.

It also meant still learning your teammates. There’d already been very strong relationships set between the team when Nick Fury pulled you in, claiming all your abilities would benefit them.

Having been born with special abilities meant dealing with the hate that comes with being different. When people found out it was rarely a good reaction.

So even though you agreed to join the Avengers, you kept your special abilities to yourself and instead trained to perfect the normal ones you had.

“Y/n?”

Thoughts get interrupted by the familiarly sultry voice of your teammate and half of your assigned mission partners.

Natasha gently sets her bag at the door and walks closer to you, choosing to lean on the kitchen counter beside you.

“I know this is your first, fairly major, mission. Which can be nerve wracking. But I promise, myself and Wanda have your back. And I also know you’re more than ready for this.”

E/c eyes raise to green, searching for sincerity and finding it.

You nod, the corner of your lips just barely tugging up. Then you stand, silent as always, to leave the kitchen.

All the while Natasha watches you, hoping her words had the proper effect, but still glad she didn’t fumble over them or say the wrong thing.

Since you’d joined her team the redhead was unsure of you, almost as unsure as you were of all of them. Over time though, she’d grown more interested than unsure. She wondered what kept you so quiet, what was holding you back from them, from her, and what it was that seemed to plague your mind at every moment of the day.

Trying to become closer to you became the goal which meant tailoring her approach. Natasha couldn’t come to you as the Black Widow, she couldn’t intimidate or seduce you into opening up. You have a fragile soul and she knew that.

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d tried speaking to you and said the wrong thing or worded her thoughts the wrong way. But each time ended with you walking away and her, sometimes literally, smacking herself.

With a huff, she picks up her bag, and starts toward the jet. It doesn’t take long to make sure everything is running properly so she waits inside for you and Wanda.

The two of you appearing shortly after.

Natasha watches as her girlfriend speaks to you, your expression unwavering. It seems Wanda is walking on the same eggshells with you, pausing for long moments to think of what to say before speaking.

It was no secret that Wanda is more in touch with her emotions and those of others out of the two, so it’s slightly odd to see the woman struggle with you as well.

But just like Natasha, she tries. Because just like Natasha, she’s intrigued.

Wanda was taken with your beauty the second she saw you. Both internally and externally. Without invading your mental space, simply put she read your aura. But it was as if she could only read the surface of it. Like you were blocking her powers. Still what she found was beautiful.

That had drawn her to you even though you were keeping her at a distance. And so she did her best to make you feel comfortable and understood one the rare occasions you let her in.

Now isn’t one of those times.

Wanda can tell that you’re anxious about your first international mission. She understands that, which is what she had been sharing with you when you got on the jet.

Two hours into the flight though, she’d stepped away, not wanting to crowd you.

So as you laid down to calm yourself and rest, she moved to the co-pilots seat beside Natasha.

Reaching over, Wanda grabs her girlfriend’s hand and laces their fingers together.

A look is shared between the two, both worried about you but also confident in your ability to do complete this mission.

There had long since been a discussion between the girlfriends about you. Revolving around their feelings for you.

They’d both admittedly felt guilty for developing feelings for someone outside of their relationship but Natasha had noticed the signs of Wanda’s crush and on the chance that she was right, she mentioned hers.

Being honest with each other lead to the idea of bringing you into their relationship, but that would all depend on you. Your feelings for them and your willingness to let them in.

But that was something to come later.

Now they focused on the mission at hand.

The mission had begun exactly as planned. A simple data collection.

Honestly you all should’ve seen the problem when the enemy base was empty, the data left unprotected. While your guards had been up for ambushes or unexpected threats.

Despite that, none of you had been prepared for a bomb.

While leaving the base you’d caught the glare of a red light in the dark and the faint ticking and knew what it was.

“There’s a bomb, we need to move now.” You rush, anxiety climbing as you all ran from the building.

The three of you bad just barely stepped foot out the base when the bombs went off and despite your running you knew you weren’t clear of the blast.

Your eyes frantically searched the field as the heat of the explosion got closer and there was no escaping it. So, in an attempt to protect the women, you laced your arms around them and pulled them to your body.

In seconds their visions were obscured by beautiful white feathers. And while they had confusedly stared at their new unfamiliar surroundings, you gritted your teeth at the searing pain of the heat and shrapnel of the explosion.

You held on though, unmoving until you no longer felt the suddenness of it.

“Y/n,” Wanda breathes, eyes following the shimmering white feathers to you, only to find your eyes drooping.

They caught your now unconscious form. Your wings slacking away from their body as you were no longer awake to control them.

Using their joint strength, they drug you to the jet.

Natasha moved almost in a panic, but kept her expression neutral, as she put in the coordinates of the mission assigned safe house. It would take hours to fly back to New York and that was time they weren’t sure they had.

As they flew, Wanda took in your wings. The wings no one on the team knew about.

Even though feathers were singed and there were bloody cuts, they still managed to leave her awestruck.

“Did you know-” Wanda begins, looking up to Natasha who simply shook her head.

When you landed at the safe house, they carried you inside and to the nearest bedroom.

It’d taken a lot rushed research on their part to clean and patch up your wounds. They both knew how to tend to human skin but nothing about wings. But they managed, moving with care and gentleness as they removed the scattered pieces of shrapnel, tended to the burned feathers, and cleared away the blood.

Seeing you hurt yet so beautiful stirred their emotions more than usual. Causing them both to act without thinking.

“Please be okay.” Wanda whispers, fingers smoothing over your silk like wings. Beside her Natasha repeating the same sentiment in her head as she leaned down and pressed a kissed to your forehead.

Neither woman could leave you, resulting in Wanda falling asleep beside you, tucked under your wing, and Natasha occupying the chair in the corner of the room with her eyes trained on both of you.

The woman was tired but more than that she was determined to make sure you were okay. Something she didn’t find out until hours later.

The signs of your consciousness came gradually but still alerted her, as the first one was the retracting of your wings.

Green eyes focused on the way the angelic appendages seemingly folded into your back and under your skin. It looked painful and the woman’s concern for you increased.

She was so focused on you she didn’t notice Wanda wake up to see it as well, the second the warmth of your wings left her body.

Now both sets of green eyes were trained on you back. Mainly the very noticeable extra bones. They were raised a little higher than the normal back bones, both perpendicular to your spine.

Still acting without much thought, Wanda reached out, her fingers ghosting over the smooth skin covering the bones. It felt as if there had been no wings there, as if the skin hadn’t just opened to let the large additions into your body.

Neither woman noticed you wake up, not until a shiver wracked you at Wanda’s touch.

Wanda jerked away, silently praying she hadn’t overstepped by touching you.

“Could-”‘ your small voice reached their ears and Natasha moved to kneel beside the bed,“ can you get me a shirt?”

She nods, disappearing from your eyesight for seconds and returning with a top.

After awkwardly pulling it on to make sure they didn’t see your naked front, you hesitantly moved to sit up against the headboard.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around your legs.

Natasha’s brow furrows at the way you seemingly tried to hide from them, curling in on yourself.

The redhead sits in front of you on the bed, hand laying against the bed as if she really wanted to rest it on your leg.“ You have nothing to be sorry for Y/n.”

“Really. You didn’t scare us, we were worried, not scared.”

It was your turn to frown.

You hadn’t been blind to their attempts to get closer to you. You felt guilty about it though. You were hiding such an important part of yourself from them, a part you weren’t sure you’d ever share.

Not that that mattered now. They’d seen the real you.

Whatever opinions they’d formed on you are sure to change. You’d lose them. Like everyone else.

Both women watched the emotions flashing through your eyes and across your face. The confusion, the guilt, the sadness, then settling on fear.

What were you scared of?

Ever the emotionally observant, Wanda guesses correctly on why you’re scared, and takes the proper approach at talking about it with you.

“Y/n, why hadn’t you said anything about your wings?” She asks.

Your gaze moves to her slowly and your breath catches.

Where was the hatred? The disgust? The fear?

“I-” your words fall short, eyes searching hers deeply for the reaction you usually got.

When her hand wraps around yours in comfort and encouragement to speak you’re even more perplexed.

Had you truly misread them? Mistaken them for the people in your past?

“I was afraid you’d be scared of them.” You swallow.“ Or find them ugly. I know it’s not normal but I was born with them.”

Natasha feels her heartbreak at the obvious pain you’d endured because of them in your past. It was written in your eyes.

She scoots closer and takes your other hand.“ Your wings are beautiful Y/n. And anyone in your past who thought otherwise were ignorant. People fear what they don’t understand.”

Your frown returns,“ why aren’t you?” You direct to them both.

“Because as beautiful as your wings are, as much as we don’t know about them, we see beyond that.” Wanda answers.

Natasha stands, gently nudging you to the center of the bed, then sitting so you’re between the two.

“Trusting new people is hard when you’ve been hurt by people you thought you could in the past. But I promise you can trust us and we won’t let you down if and when you begin to.” She assures.

How could you not believe the soft and honest admission? Especially coming from two of the most powerful women you’ve ever met.

“I think I may be starting to.”

Moving with caution, hoping you aren’t the one overstepping this time, you lean your head on Natasha’s shoulder, and squeeze the hand Wanda is holding.

Natasha and Wanda know it will take time for you to fully open up to them but they’re more than patient. And if a time ever comes when you reciprocate their romantic feelings, they’d gladly treat you like the angel you are.

* * * * * *

taglist: @trikruismybitch

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #asks #request #reader insert

485 notes · View notes