#accept my apology for last week by being predictable yet again
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Break me Slowly|Part 8|Yandere Levi x Evelyn
A/N: I freaking love this version of Levi, the amount of unhinged smut and headcanons I could write with these two is unreal, if only I had ideassss
WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.
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Levi rolled out of bed with a soft smirk on his face, remembering the night before. This past week had been the best of his life, years of pent up frustration could finally have an outlet. Evelyn was still fighting him, she didn't understand what her place was just yet, but that would change. Sooner or later she would come to understand that his wishes were commands whether she liked it or not.
He turned to look at her, he knew she was awake but just avoiding him. She had barely spoken in the last week and had lost most of her appetite, but she'd come around. Levi leans down and brushes his lips on her cheek, simultaneously breathing in her scent.
"Good morning my love..." He tried to keep his voice warm and loving, his method in winning her over. When she behaved she got a soft side to him, when she disobeyed she received his wrath. The bruises on her neck and face were evidence of this wrath, once he trained her enough he could hold back and she could go outside again.
After a moment of her silence, he grabbed her arm and turned her towards him forcefully. "I said good morning."
Evelyn stares him down, her eyes always shone a little differently when she was being defiant, but he didn't mind really, it just gave him an excuse.
In a singular motion Levi straddles her and presses his lips to her cheek and neck, moving to her collarbone. Sure enough her hands come up to push him away, she pretended to ignore him but he always knew how to get a reaction out of her.
"Don't touch me Levi- Just leave me alone-"
"You know how this always goes. Just accept it already and I'll get you to cum."
"You haven't yet." Her tone was filled with venom.
Levi took that opportunity to slap her in the face again, he was almost becoming addicted to the feeling of his stinging knuckles against her face. It was so satisfying to feel empowered and over her in every way. "Why can't you learn to shut your goddamn mouth?"
She cries and holds her face, she was perfect but it was almost annoying how predictable she was. That didn't matter, his fingers slid over her cool skin, he was so used to it by now. Evelyn was right in the fact he hadn't made her cum, but in his defence that was because he didn't care to try. Until she deserved it sex would be about his pleasure and his pleasure alone.
By now his dick was at home inside her, so he slid in with ease, spit was enough to make the process at least bearable for her. There was a slight eye roll from him in bliss once he was fully inside, and a satisfied sigh escaped his lips. No matter what she still flailed and tried to get away but that didn't matter to him. Railing her hard and rough was good to make her shut up but what felt the best for him was long a slow strokes to get as deep as possible, and he knew she could feel it all the way inside too. Part of him felt bad that she felt uncomfortable by being pushed into so hard, but instead of stopping he apologized with kisses to her neck, he couldn't afford to be too aggressive this morning.
Today was his first day back to work after their wedding, Erwin had been generous enough to give him the week off. If Levi came in still aggressive and pent up people would ask questions. He could see it in his eyes how wild he got after being with her. The last thing he needed was some nosy asshole poking his nose into his business.
Evelyn cried out a bit louder then, and Levi snapped back to reality, he must have pushed in a little rougher than intended. He kissed the side of her lips to make up for it.
He looked down at her then, studying her pretty face, she always stopped struggling eventually and right now she was being good so he could indulge her just a little bit. Levi bent his head and gently sucked on her hardened nipples, every time he had pinched them she gave him a reaction so maybe something a bit softer would feel nicer. She responded with a slight gasp and then soft sighs, it must have felt nice so he continued, the texture on his tongue different but pleasant.
His eyes snapped up to hers, the look he gave must have had some kind of effect because he felt her squeeze him gently. "Do you like that sweetheart?"
She quickly shakes her head, but the way she looks at him says otherwise.
"Don't lie woman. I'll get you to moan my name yet."
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Levi smiles as he ties his cravat around his neck once he closes the bedroom door behind him. He had left her filled and weak, just as he always did.
His mood was light and happy for the first time in a long time. Part of him almost wished people noticed, he wanted the questions now. He wanted to tell someone how he fucks his wife in detail. Pride swells in his chest, he feels like such a man, able to leave his wife satisfied and worn out when he's finished with her. He knows the other officer's wives barely get satisfied and turn to other men for some kind of release.
All morning he has a soft smile on his face in the privacy of his office, until someone knocks on the door, making him forcibly drop the smile and return to his cold and collected expression. Great sex doesn't excuse unprofessionalism at the end of the day.
"Come in." He clears his throat to ensure there's no happy edge to it.
Petra enters holding a tray with his morning tea, a small pang of loneliness hits him because usually Evelyn made that for him when she still was in active duty. "Good morning Captain!" Her voice is cheerful, too cheerful, it was going to give him a headache.
"Good morning Petra." He takes the cup of tea without more than a glance or two at her. "Thank you."
"Of course sir," She took this as an invitation to sit down as if he wanted a morning chat. "I'm so happy you decided to come back to work. I've missed you so much. Did you have a good vacation?"
"Honeymoon." He said matter-of-factly. "And yes, it was most enjoyable."
"Well yes, that-" She clears her throat. "It was just so weird without you here, like a piece of this place was missing."
"I'm sure everyone survived." He finally looks up at her again. "You may go."
"I've kept your office clean while you were gone- just how you like it."
He had noticed it had been kept clean, but she had still missed spots. "Yes, thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to get back to."
Petra frowns but gets up out of the chair and leaves the office, taking a bit longer than he would have liked.
His thoughts are divided between work and his wife at home, he pauses and puts his pen down, pulling a picture of Evelyn out of his desk drawer. He had taken it from her military file when she had first enlisted. It was worn and faded in areas from many uses on lonely nights. Now it wasn't odd to have a picture of her on his desk since they were married. So he quickly took an old photo of his squad out of a frame and replaced it with her, holding it in his hand for a moment longer than intended. He gave the picture a soft kiss before returning it to his desk and silently counting down the hours and minutes before he could see her again.
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When he had finally headed home every step was a sigh of relief that he was so close to seeing his wife again. As he walked through town he noticed a man selling flowers in the market and tried to restrain from spoiling her but he couldn't help but want to anyway. He was in such a good mood he wanted to give her a gift and see her respond in kind, happily, maybe she'd even be willing this time. Maybe she'd express her gratitude towards his generosity that she'd suck his dick in payment.
The thought makes him stop at the vendor and look at the different flowers. The owner, an older and balding man approaches him with a smile.
"Captain Levi, what a pleasure and surprise to see you stop at my stall. How can I help you?"
"My wife, I want to do something nice for her. What kind of flowers do women like?"
The man laughed. "Who knows what women like half the time? But I can put something together that I think she'll love all the same."
He turns from Levi and grabs various flowers, putting together a custom bouquet, making it so Levi wouldn't be able to see until he was finished.
"So how is married life treating you Captain?"
"Like a dream. Who could ask for any more? I have married perfection."
The man laughs again. "Of course Levi." He returns with a bouquet of white roses, lavender, baby's breath, and some blue flowers he'd never heard of. "Here you go."
Levi paid and left, not saying anything more.
Once he arrived home, he was excited to see his wife at the door waiting from him. What he was met with was his housekeeper.
"Sir-"
"What is it?"
"Mrs. Ackerman- I-"
"Spit it out woman!"
"We- we can't find her- she escaped-"
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#attack on titan#break me slowly#levi ackerman#levi aot#levi x oc#levi x reader#shingeki no kyojin#yandere levi#yandere levi ackerman
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Worry's Only Wasted Time
It’s Friday again! If you noticed, there was no blog post last week, I do apologize. I simply never had time within my week to accomplish it at any point and now here we are. If you missed the sermon on Sunday, you can watch it here: https://fb.watch/mvjqNfHwhY/ I was able to chat with Pastor Chad via email regarding the message and it went like this:
I wasn’t really left with a ton of questions after this message, but I have some thoughts. Obviously, things would be easier to commit to if we had some assurance that we were going to succeed at what we were trying to do. If God would show us some glimmer of the future, some shred of what's to come, that it all works out, sure, it would be so much easier to keep fighting the battles. That was the whole point though, right? We will never have that assurance? (Other than the fact that we've read the Bible and we know in the last chapter that God wins, the end.) We don't get to know all the details of how everything in our lives is going to work out, or how God is going to use our trials to better us. We are just supposed to trust that He will. Why is that SO hard though?
I think it's so hard because we want things on our terms. The human-ness of all of us wants to be in control and order all things to what we see is the best. In many ways, this is our self-idolatry or pride getting in the way of our faith. We lose sight and don't want to accept that there is a God who knows more, sees more, and is capable of more than we are. We humans (at the top of the food chain) tend to think we are the supreme beings of the land and to concede that control and order push against our human nature. Stress is a natural response to uncertainty and we want to eliminate stress by being in control of the future. The reality is we are caught up in our own perception of wants and needs that we lose sight of bigger focuses. The harsh reality is, if it were this way and there were no uncertainty we would complain and moan about the lack of spontaneity in our world. Maybe we're just unhappy people (just kidding). The trick is in seeing the beauty in the unknown, finding the excitement in the uncertainty, and growing in faith all the time.
Letting go is probably particularly difficult for women. Not to stereotype, but women are typically the keepers of schedule and order for the household, kids, etc, and carry the mental load for the family. Not knowing HOW something is going to happen is pure torture. We NEED to have the details; we NEED to plan. Or maybe that's just a me thing and I'm projecting it onto "most" women. I can't imagine having been one of the apostles trying to figure out how to feed the crowd! Let alone feeling confident in any man saying, "it'll be fine, just let me pass out these five loaves!" I mean, have you ever planned a dinner party?? I'm getting heart palpitations just thinking about it! How did the apostles know that it was going to be ok? Did they know? Do you think that even until their deaths, the apostles struggled with "believing is seeing"?
Oh, they didn't, and most scripture points to a sneaking suspicion they all had that this may end horribly. They knew from the get-go that this was radical and different, and would most likely not be perceived well by everyone. As things went along there are hints that this thing was going to end with a bang, and not necessarily a good bang. Christ himself gave several Passion Predictions where he prepared them for the worst, and as the crucifixion took place, they began to understand that their own lives would most likely end up the same. So, all of these clues, red flags, indicators, whatever we want to call them were there, and yet they still hung in there. They never gave up, they never abandoned the call, they followed it even unto death... why? The answer is simple, the grace they found and were called to share with the world was worth dying for. Not only that, it was worth living for as it changed their very lives. The love of Jesus was so powerful in their lives that they couldn't do anything else, and they didn't. I wonder how many would sign up to be Christians today if it were the same; if this faith would cost you your life at some point? The reality is that we're going to lose our lives at some point anyhow, might as well use it doing something that matters. Life itself is fleeting, what we do with it can last forever. This again comes back to giving up control and letting our faith guide our steps, not our own comforts, dreams, plans, proclivities, etc.
Man, that’s hard. I’m sure it’s harder for some than others, just like everything else we do in this life. All people aren’t designed the same, with the same strengths and weaknesses, and that’s a good thing. It’s terrifying to admit that you don’t really have control over anything when you truly think about it. Maybe the small, mundane tasks of your everyday existence, but not much else. Admitting that can be really scary. It reminds me of a song – because all things do. If you have some time today, check out this song:
Afraid by Tenth Avenue North
youtube
My favorite line is “worry’s only wasted time”. There’s so much truth in that statement. I wonder how much time the apostles wasted worrying about feeding the crowd before Jesus performed His miracle with the loves and fish? I wonder how afraid they were? Were they afraid that the crowd would turn on them? God says we don’t have to worry. We don’t have to fear. He is in control and all we have to do is let Him.
Until next time… If you have any thoughts or questions that you would like to share in our blog, send them to me via the church email, text message, call the office, tumblr message, or Facebook message me!
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Omake:
#otayuri#Yuri on ice#strips#accept my apology for last week by being predictable yet again#I'm sorry this authoress ideas are always like this#yoi
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Moments of Despair #1 [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]
Synopsis: “The man who was on fire and realized it too late.”
(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).
Albedo's despair
Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death, graphic depictions of violence perhaps
(A/n): Had these ideas for a while after reading @/serensama To Mourn series of another fandom. So much sorrow and feeling I just was inspired to write 😫
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The moment you fell lifeless in Diluc's arms, he wanted to disappear.
It was raining again, he had always despised the rain. How it trickles down the slope of your cheek, like tears falling from the heavens. The sight of it mixing with your blood creating a thin stream of red rivers flowing beside him. They patter down obnoxiously because time didn't care, the gods don't care, the world didn't care. You were just a small fragile person to their eyes but to him you were his light. A candle that used to shine in his dark world was now dissipitated by the waters of reality.
Many droplets have passed and he was still holding you. Diluc could do nothing but stare. He hadn't shed any tears nor could he make a coherent sound. Perhaps it was because his tears have long run out when his father was held in the very same way. Or it was because he was heartless. He's usually told for being cold and indifferent. But the pain clenching in his chest was proof that he still had one (proof that it was still beating), much to his dismay. It would be better if he didn't.
So why can't he just look away? Your wounds, your bruised features, everything now etched so deep into the back of his conciousness that is was starting to awaken his worst nightmares. They were the source of the bile growing in his stomach. The irony stench filling up his nostrils felt so sickening. He couldn't turn away. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. As if reality had yet to register, or maybe he refused to accept it, Diluc helplessly gazed down your body with blank and empty eyes.
"Master Diluc..."
Jean's voice called out to him pitifully. He rises up with his back turned, ignoring the stares given to him, "Leave. The knights of favonius are not needed here."
"But she's a Mondstadt citizen," The anemo user retorts, slightly taken aback by his impassive reaction, "It's my responsibility to ensure this case doesn't go unnoticed."
Unnoticed. Diluc scoffs in his mind, what a tasteless joke.
"It seems you weren't listening," he announces as his head was turned ajar so they could see the deep hatred glowing red in his eyes, "Leave. Now."
Jean's lips trembled before barely being able to say, "Alright" and retreating her knights back to the city. Kaeya narrows his gaze at his bother, the sorrow was evident through his pupils. He steps forward until he was arms length away from his brother. Too little too late, another failure was added to the belt.
Kaeya was a man of many words but for once he was at loss of what to say. No underhanded suggestions, no ideas taunting him to spill his thoughts, he simply asks Diluc, "What are you planning to do now?"
Silence. Kaeya couldn't predict what sort of expression his brother was making as he looks at your corpse. It brought a heavy weight of unsettlement upon him and here he thought he had already grown used to his brother's quietness.
Slowly, he turns around while letting the water pour down his face. Kaeya tightens his jaw as Diluc drags his feet towards him, stopping when their shoulders were parallel, "It's none of your concern."
"You're just going to leave her here?"
There was a slight pause which was enough of an answer. The Cavalry Captain sighs when he watched him walk away, what was the point of asking when Kaeya knew Diluc so well? He glances at your form before swiftly shutting his eyes.
It was his concern.
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A week later, the staff of the Ragnvindr household could hardly recognize their Master's appearance. They knew not to bother him when he decides to lock himself in his chambers. Diluc drowns himself with work from hours to no end as he connects the findings of the person that took your life. As expected, it was one of his enemies- a fatui member. The question was, which one?
"Master Diluc, I beg of you, please take care of yourself," Elzer pleads.
The pyro user didn't bother to spare him a glance or look at the tray of food he carried.
Food...you always brought them whenever he had to work overtime.
"I do not remember specifiying anyone to be allowed in my office," he voices aloud, "If it's related to business affairs simply leave that with Adelinde and I'll take a look at it tomorrow."
"I understand. But you've been working all day and night yet refusing to take any breaks in between. At this rate, you'll harm your health."
The feather pen in his grip kept dragging it's course, "This is beyond the duties assigned to you Elzer."
"That's because it was a request sent by your father," he adds, knowing that stepping over his boundaries may cost him, "If Master Crepus was still here, I'm sure he would have said the same thing."
Taking a deep breath, Elzer lays out his last card, "And also your wife."
The pen slows into a halt.
No one had brought you up until now. Elzer anxiously watches his Master shifting in his seat, his red bangs covering half of his face but he could still see the frown pressing firmly on his lips. It wouldn't be a surprise if Diluc suddenly bursted at him for mentioning such a sensitive topic, all that matters was his master's well being and Elzer was willing to risk everything for it. But nothing. Diluc turns his attention ever so slightly at the tray he carried.
"Fine, but I'm not eating that."
"What? Wasn't this was her favourite-"
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
Elzer furrows his brows before sighing, "...No, Master Diluc."
He exits the room while carrying the fresh dish of Once Upon A Mondstadt that you loved so much. The door closes with a soft click and he was alone again.
People found it strange how Diluc seemed so vacant to your passing. He didn't even show up at your funeral. Instead, he continues his duties as a Mondstadt nobleman like usual while taking care of business matters associated with the winery. Except those who were close to him could see the difference in his actions. Apathy, he was so mechanical in every task he did. Like a marionette attatched on strings, a doll without a soul. After all, his soul died the moment when yours did too. What remains was a shadow of Diluc and a being existing solely for revenge and duty. He was nothing but a remnant.
Fatigue begins to wash over him and he fights to stay awake. Because once he gives in it will all be over. Once he closes his eyes, he would see your face with a multitude of images from the past. He would hear your voice calling out his name from a distant space as it echoes off the walls of his mind. He would fall into a dream where you were still with him and as always, waking up to see that it was never real.
I should have pushed you away.
Because what hurt Diluc the most wasn't that you were gone, rather, it was how you were still here.
Then you'd still be-
Something breaks and it turned out to be the pen he was holding so tightly. Only now Diluc realized how fast his heart was thrumming as beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead. Focus. Don't waste time. He won't grant himself the liberty of anything when your murderer was still on the run. Every wound they inflicted on you was going to be returned in tenfold. He'll make sure of it. That's why, he refuses to think about you at all. Diluc occupies his mind with other matters since at this point, work was the only efficient method of keeping his sanity in tact.
She needs you to focus.
The door opens and Kaeya enters the room while holding a document, "We found the guy."
His reaction was immediate, "Where?"
"Hm, now that we meet, it's actually quite debateable," The captain notes wryly, "When was the last time you've gotten proper rest?"
"I don't have time for this, either you tell me or I'll do it by force."
Kaeya couldn't help but sigh, "Apologies but you don't seem to be in any state for a fight. I'm sure you know how it would end up if you were to face your enemy right now."
"..."
"Diluc, this isn't healthy," Kaeya asserts, it's been a while since he sounded so sincere, "I'm not here to prevent you from doing what's necessary however, perhaps it would be better if I finished it in your stead."
"No," Diluc stubbornly answers, "Hand that over."
"...Heh, then there's really nothing I can do to stop you it seems," he whispers with a sad smile, "At the very least, be careful."
"I intend to," The pyro user snatches the paper parchment out of Kaeya's hands before opening the window, "Also, if Elzer returns, tell him there's a few errands I have to take care of."
The night was a full moon and the sky was empty, Diluc leaps off the edge and disappears into the darkness. There was no telling of what could happen next. Since you weren't here, it was up to Kaeya to watch over him.
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The claymore dropped to the ground with a clang as it soaks up the blood of the fatui he just killed.
Diluc was tired, so tired.
He slumps down against the wall from pure exhaustion, all that adrenaline and hatred went up in fumes, leaving behind whatever was left in his heart: nothing. Two hours, not even that far from Mondstadt, the fatui hid in an abandoned building as he cowarded for his life. When Diluc arrived, he never expected this monster to be so weak. This was the person who murdered you? A pathetic nobody that was simply following orders? This was the reason why he lost you forever?
In the end, the only one to blame was himself, for being weak and unable to protect you. He was supposed to be your hero ("Darknight hero," you'd always tease), the rock that shields you just as you had been the warmth he longed for many years, did he give you enough? Was this enough? He thought avenging your death would grant him a peace of mind and the justice you deserved but deep down, he knew it will never be enough when it comes to his love for you.
"Diluc."
He closes his eyes, he hears your voice. He was so tired, it wouldn't be a surprise if he started hallucinating.
"Diluc."
"I'm sorry..."
The man lets out a trembled breath as he apologized to the image of you in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you. They were repeated like a mantra in hopes to reach you somehow. Of course that was impossible, his feelings, his emotions, love and sorrow altogether will never reach you again. And your arms that once comforted him and brushed his hair with a soothing voice, saying everything will be okay, where are they now?
"Diluc."
"Stop," he didn't want to hear your voice.
"Diluc, I'm here."
"Stop..."
"Diluc..."
He jolts his eyes open and lets out a yell, what was he saying? He doesn't know. All he needed now was to drown out the fake voices mocking in his head. Diluc grabs the nearest object and shatters it against the floor, the dam was broken and it flooded uncontrollably, breaking everything in it's way. The abandoned house was filled with loud cries of a man sobbing with agony like a broken-hearted child. He crumbles to his knees and falls to his side, lifting his forearms while clutching his face.
And screamed.
Archons, what did he do to deserve this? Why do the people he cherish get taken away from him? Diluc never wanted to be the Darknight hero if it meant having his father perish in his arms. He didn't want the feeling of stabs against his chest with every breath he took. He didn't want to feel cold while knowing it was because you weren't here to hold him. He didn't want your voice, your pictures or your memory.
He wanted you.
"(Y/n)..." he chokes. Rolling to his back, Diluc moves his arms to cover his eyes, letting the tears run down to his ears, "(Y/n)..."
For who knows how long, he lays there in the abandoned building and mourns. Diluc doesn't have the strength to move from his position, he found himself staring mindlessly through the cracks of the roof when his voice had gone hoarse. The corners of his eyes still burned and his head was throbbing with so much pain. Maybe he should just stay here but the thought of being in the same room as your murderer was unfathomable.
Picking up his claymore once again, Diluc drags himself out of the door. Where would he go? It's not like he had a home to return to because home was when he was with you. A doll without a soul, the marionette moves as if the strings have commanded him to do so. Where ever it takes him, he didn't care. He just knew he had to go.
#genshin impact#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact scenarios#diluc ragnvindr#diluc#diluc x reader#jean gunnhildr#genshin impact diluc#genshin impact jean#kaeya alberich#Kaeya#genshin impact kaeya#genshin impact angst#genshin impact imagines#genshin imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin x reader#tragedy#nya-writes
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Pop Star Wars AU: Waking
Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.
Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )
Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.
Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):
After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier.
The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future.
The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.
The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.
He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.
Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.
He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.
The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up.
Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations.
Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.
Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.
Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.
Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was.
He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.
Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.
The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.
The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time.
He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.
Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place.
“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.”
Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer.
Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU.
For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind.
“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”
And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.
Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door.
Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on.
Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”
Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense.
“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.”
This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.
To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.
After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.
“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”
Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.
“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”
“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”
Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.
“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”
Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”
Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”
“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.”
It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.
“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.
Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).
“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”
He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.
Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”
“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.
Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere.
They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.
“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”
“You know, I think I am”
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Aisle 7
loved the way this one turned out hope you enjoy!
warnings: public oral sex, robbery, masturbation, overstimulation mention, etc, just regular smutty shit
Warren Lipka and you were inseparable. You were best friends, boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife, soulmates, enemies, lovers, but for most you were fuck buddies. You'd travel around together, even if that were to be across the globe or for a quick joint wrap to the nearest corner store. No matter what you guys' were up to the adrenaline was always there, leading you guys to do unholy things in the most unholy places. Even if that were to be in a church, a kids' playground or even in the middle of fucking nowhere, to clubs, reunions, rooftops or a stranger's left open garage. But there was one place you and Warren haven't tested yet, and it was very much needed to be checked out of your bucket list.
Waking up to Warren's angelic self laying beside you, taking a moment to breath in his masculine heaven sent scent and his beautifully unique facial features you soon realize a cute perfect curl resting on his forehead, using your finger tips to swipe it softly behind his ear so it doesn't bug him, hearing a soft groan fall out of his pink lips. Shifting a little, Warren pulled you in close to him wrapping his muscular arms around your bruised naked body, causing a small whimper to fall out of you as he accidentally held a little too hard on your contused waist, from your guys' long night.
"S-sorry." apologized Warren in his adorable morning voice, half awake kissing your shoulder caustiously, loosening his grip on you as you're now the little spoon. Warren wasn't the type to apologize, his way of apologizing was pleasing you through sex, he never wanted to show his vulnerability to you.
"Since when do you apologize, Warren Lipka?" you asked as he replied with "God. I love the way you say my name.." completely avoiding your question lifting his huge pointer finger to your lips to shush you nicely, still half asleep.
Getting up now and getting dressed for some food you look over at the man shifting aggressively looking for his most comfortable position peeking over at you discreetly, you ask him what'd he want from Dunkin's. "Gonna go to dunkin's, want a coffee, a bagle or something?" "Yeah.. no sugar and a bagle.. maybe get some wraps while you're out, hm?" Warren mumbled under his breath lazyly lifting an eyebrow to your sudden silence and unmovibility. "wanna come.. maybe?" you fill in the silence, in hopes to him agreeing since you feered going out alone.
Warren just strecthed and hummed pushing the blue striped covers to the side as he lazyly dragged himself out of the bed, unaware he was still butt naked from the previous night you rested your head on the windowsill, unable to keep your eyes off of his morning wood, in which was fully hard for you to see. Your arousal was soon arising, causing you to tighten your legs in amusement.
Clothed now, Warren points at the keys signaling you to pick them up and get the car running while he looks for some money he had misplaced. As you speed walked to your car, tripping along the way. You struggle to catch your breath as you sigh in sexual frustration. Even after your guys' long overstimulated night you couldn't bare the need of wanting more. So, unwilling of simply asking Warren to fulfill your needs you pull up one of his old nudes that you had saved on your phone, satisfying yourself quickly before he'd notice.
You groaned to yourself lowly as you massaged your clothed clit, not daring to take your eyes off of his nudes. So lost in the moment you hear a faded knock on your car's window, taking you by surprise. With the knocking fading in now, you look up to Warren who's eyes were lustfilled and lips were smirked signaling you to open the door and slide over to the passenger seat.
"I- I–" "Shh, princess." Warren shushed you as he buckled up his seatbelt, reaching out for yours and buckling it in for you also, his hand swiping pass your lower abdomen making you jump slightly.
The ride quiet and awkward you look over to him, only to catch your focus onto his hands now, which were swiftly and roughly operating the steering wheel. His hands veiny and pale, you zone out to only get zoned back in to a harsh grip onto your upper thigh.
"Dare or dare, Y/N?" Warren dares you, sharp stare suited on his eyes, which move from your own to the road in a rapid manner. "Bring it on, baby." you tease, knowing he had evil plans coming for you after what he's witnessed.
"Suck me off in the supermarket."
"What-"
Warren only chuckled to your reaction but he was dead fucking serious. This man is literally crazy. It amazed you how you've put up with him for all that time, but you matching his level of crazy you accept his dare, causing Warren to give your thigh a little slap as he parked in the empty parking lot an evil grin glued to his face. "I'll go in and order if you want." he tells you whislt shoving a couple hundreds in his green coat, you nod in response. Him now jogging into dunkin to place your orders as fast as he possibly could, he stops a little to give you a wink before going in, an evil ass wink.
As Warren took a little longer than usual you predicted that he were to be committing yet another crime, so you prepare to be his getaway driver for the third time that week, it only being Thursday.
Rolling your last blunt to waste some time, you spot Warren from the corner of your eyes running like a maniac towards your car, dozens of bags and coffee placers in hand, bright big smile suited on his face as he sped to the passenger seat. Throwing all the bags to the back seat he slaps your thigh repeatedly demanding you to go.
"Fuck Y/N! I fucking love you!" Warren yelled in between pants, the huge wide smile still placed on his face as he sweated like a pig, taking off his heavy green coat replacing it with a brown one to semi-cover his identity, as you guys sped off uncautiously manefesting a ticket.
"Yeah, yeah. I fucking love you too." you sighed in between giggles.
The adrenaline now going to its norm you feel a sharp familiar gaze on you. Keeping your eyes on the road, you hear Warren's breathing escalate inconspicuously, making your curiosity grow by the second you attempt to ask the man what was going on, only for him to shush you once again.
"Park right there." ordered Warren, pointing at a supermarket's uninhabited parking lot. You follow his orders instantly, carefully parking your car near some trees, making the parking lot appear more blank than what it should've been.
Warren's stare only intensified as you grew in curiosity. With him placing his huge hand on your thigh once again, you couldn't bare the need to kiss him, crashing your lips onto his sloppily to soon straddling ontop of him. Warren didn't hesitate to kiss back, placing his hands on your waist grinding his rising clothed boner onto your clothed pussy roughly.
"Fuck me.. baby please" you insist in between the makeout, panting pathetically against his shoulder, as you two humped for several minutes now.
"You owe me a dare, Y/N." replies Warren in between heavy grunts, referring to his previous 'Give me head in a supermarket' dare.
"But- bu-" "No ifs or buts Y/N, dare or nothing?" Warren teases giving you no other option,you needing all of him desperately you accept his dare getting off of him to unlock the car and walk out of it.
Warren only looked up at you in amusement, with the coincidence of you guys' being parked outside of a supermarket he only grew excited, jumping out of the car walking behind you exhilaratedly.
Now entering the unoccupied supermarket you look around to make sure there wasn't a soul around to witness the unholiness you were about to commit to. Not a single person around other than the 2 cashiers up front you grab Warren's hand and drag him down aisle to aisle speed walking almost, as you search for the most hidden aisle in the back of the supermarket.
"Aisle 7." you murmured under your breath as you pull Warren in for a kiss, the kiss transforming into a unconditional make out. Warren suddenly held onto your waist firmly once again as you kissed down his neck, him leaning his head back, giving you more access. You lose no time to fidget your fingers curling on his sweats strings, to massaging his shaft softly.
This producing some soft groans to fall out of your comrade's mouth you push him slightly onto the tide pod shelf behind him, lowering yourself smoothly. Your face now confronting his clothed member you look up to him in concern of getting caught. He only whispers "No cameras." to give you comfort.
Pulling down his sweats you are suprisingly tapped across your nose with your lover's tip, in which is leaking in precum, turning you on incredibly. Twirling your wet tongue around his reddened tip you take time to give his balls attention also, massaging them thoughtfully. "Oh fuck." moaned Warren to your delicate and thoughtful touch on him as he struggled to keep an eye out for anyone coming.
You sucked on him desperately, now allowing his shaft to torture your throat leisurely. The situation becoming heated by the time you lightly tap on Warren's thigh to shush him from his loud disturbing moans and groans, struggling to not come too quick.
"Come for me." you order, soon feeling a creamy warm liquid drip from your lips. You intentionally keep sucking to make his manly self beg for you to stop.
"W-wait." stuttered Warren, looking down at you with squinting eyes, you ignore him supposing he wanted you to stop overstimulating him, continuing since he hadn't said his safe word. "Y/N!" he called for you once more, causing you to annoyingly stop to face him.
"Camera.." was all he said, looking up to it nervously. You get up to face a security camera pointing directly at you guys.
"Well fuck, we can cross that off the list now, can't we?" joked Warren as you wanted to instantly die from embarrassment leaving through the emergency back door unable to look at the cashier after what you've just done.
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He Looks After You On Your Period ~ Park Jimin
He smiled softly as he felt your hand grab onto his arm and pull it tighter around your waist. He was more than willing to hold you a little bit tighter as you tried to ease the uncomfortable ache that was beginning to grow in your tummy. No matter how you laid or how close you got to Jimin, nothing seemed to do the trick.
You were struggling in silence whilst Jimin continued to watch the film without any idea of your discomfort. The ache only seemed to be getting worse as time passed, your body was crying out for a bit of comfort, but your tummy seemed to have other ideas. As time went by, you could tell that Jimin was beginning to catch onto your shuffling, but he was far too kind to say anything to you.
Once the movie was finished, his eyes finally looked down at you properly, noticing your body hunched over as you tried to settle your stomach pain. His hand moved in between your arms to rest against your tummy gently, snapping you out of your pained daydream.
“What’s going on?” He concerningly asked, moving his hand around in light circular motions, “is it hurting?”
Your head nodded as yet another sharp pain attacked you causing you to flinch, pushing his hand away from you. Of course, you didn’t mean it, and Jimin knew it too, waiting until you settled once again to rest his hand against your tummy.
“I think I must have had something dodgy at lunch,” you sighed, trying to think of what could have been the cause to your pain.
Jimin hummed, resting his head against the top of yours, “are you sure that it was lunch? Only you had the same to eat as everyone else, and they all seem fine.”
“What do you think it could be then if you’re so smart?”
He couldn’t help but sigh at how quickly you snapped at him, moving his hand away from your stomach in disapproval. He didn’t want to upset you more, but his mind couldn’t settle on the idea that dinner was the cause of this.
“I’m just saying that there’s other things that could have caused your stomach-ache, are you due on your period soon?” He asked, knowing that too was an option.
Your head quickly shook, you only just finished your last period, there was still a couple of weeks before you were due on again. You could only feel yourself getting more annoyed as Jimin searched for every objection as to why dinner was at fault.
“I’m within my rights to call the restaurant and complain,” you sighed, tensing up as yet another sharp pain overwhelmed your body.
Jimin sighed, sitting you up on the bed, “I’m telling you; this can’t have been dinner, it just doesn’t make sense. Check your calendar or something jagi.”
“Why are you so defensive over that damn place!” You shouted, standing yourself up from the bed, “why can’t you just-“
Your body froze as soon as you stood up feeling a wave of pain strike your tummy, quickly pressing your hands to just under your tummy as the pain trailed down. Your eyes closed momentarily as you soon realised that Jimin had been right all along.
“Come on,” he smiled, standing up from the bed too, taking a hold of your hand to lead you into the bathroom.
As much as he wanted to yell back at you for not listening to him, he knew the anger wasn’t from you, but your period, as he’d predicted all along. The stubbornness of your time of the month was something he’d learnt to deal with over the years.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered as he sat you down, pressing a kiss to your head.
He was keen to forget all about it and focus on helping you get yourself sorted. Once he’d sat you down, he headed back into your bedroom to find a clean pair of trousers and underwear for you, throwing the duvet off of the bed as he noticed a marking there too.
“This is stupid,” you sighed, burying your head in your hands in embarrassment as Jimin helped strip you down and replace it with the clean clothing he’d fetched. He smiled up at your hidden face, trying to pry your hands apart so he could look at you.
“Now do you see why you should listen to me,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose once he eventually managed to look at you again.
You felt stupid enough without him trying to make you feel worse, biting your lip before you snapped at him yet again. He could tell straight away that his comment was more of a hinderance then a help, offering you a sympathetic smile.
“There’s no need to feel bad about all of this, it’s why I’m here to look after you,” he reminded you, placing your messy clothes to side to wash once you were all sorted. “I’ll go and grab you a hot water bottle to try and ease the pain if it will make things easier,” he smiled, passing you your box from the side of the toilet to sort yourself out.
You quickly changed everything whilst Jimin rummaged around downstairs before reappearing with a hot water bottle and a packet of tablets. “You don’t need to do all of this; I was horrible to you.”
“You were,” he acknowledged with a laugh, “but what sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t accept that these things happen when you’re on your period.”
“I can’t believe you know my cycles better than I do too,” you blushed, “I could’ve sworn I only came off my period last week, none of it makes sense.”
He was yet to tell you about his secret tip, having installed an app last year when he noticed your periods beginning to get worse. He enjoyed being able to look after you before you even needed it, not to mention the time he had to prepare for all your moods and groans too.
Once you were all sorted and clean, you stood yourself up from the toilet, clutching tightly to the water bottle Jimin had given you, making your way back into the bedroom. Before he joined you, he quickly grabbed two blankets from the cupboard to replace the duvet he’d chucked aside.
You muttered a quick apology as soon as you realised what the blankets were for, grabbing the duvet to try and strip it down, but Jimin quickly stopped you. “It doesn’t matter for now,” he informed you, dropping it back to the floor.
“I’ll fix it,” you told him, laying back down across the bed like you had done a few moments ago, tucking yourself back into Jimin’s side a lot more comfortably than you had done before.
“I’ll throw everything in the wash once you’re resting and it’ll be fixed,” he smiled, trying to not let you worry. “How about you try and get some rest whilst you’re feeling a bit easier, I have a feeling you won’t be able to get much sleep tonight.”
You gladly nodded, laying your head against his chest, allowing your eyes to close. “Thank you for looking after me and my moods, not many people would be able to have the patience that you do.”
He chuckled, holding you closely as you shook, “I do it because I love you.”
“I love you too.”
---
Masterlist
#bts#bts imagine#jimin#jimin imagine#park jimin#park jimin imagine#bts scenario#bts reaction#bts drabble#bts one shot#bts fluff#jimin reaction#jimin scenario#jimin drabble#jimin one shot#jimin fluff#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#kpop#kpop imagine
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You Should’ve Come to Shiratorizawa
Pairing: Oikawa x Reader
Word Count: idk because I’m too lazy to check Word. So maybe 2K?
Summary: after losing his chance at going to nationals in his second-year, Oikawa sees a different reason why he should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa.
Warnings: nothing but fluff
A/N: inspired by ushijima’s favorite phrase lol
⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━⊰
This was Oikawa’s moment. It was his second-year and he must make it to nationals. No - he would make it to nationals. He absolutely had to, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. All the days, hours, minutes, and pure seconds he dedicated to this match would mean something. Iwaizumi had to stop the determined setter from training himself to the point of breaking. Yet, it would all be worth it in this match.
Oikawa remembers the monster Ushijima Wakatoshi, and how that monster looked down on him in his last year of junior high. The mere memory of inferiority made him grind his teeth and furrow his eyebrows with his arms crossed. Even when they had a practice match together, Shiratorizawa still won. And that same condescending expression still haunted him.
“You’re going to break your teeth.”
Oikawa turned around, knowing that it would be Iwaizumi anyways. He plastered his classic, fake smile onto his face. In a sing-song voice, he replied, “Iwa-chan! You do care!”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked him on the back of the head. “Just don’t get yourself out of the game before it even starts.”
Not wanting to hear another lecture, Oikawa nodded and returned to glaring at the doors that had yet to open.
~
On the other side, the predicted-champions were stretching. Ushijima laid out on the floor, stretching out his lower back. Usually, Tendo would’ve joined him but he decided to try to progress his gymnastics career. Did you understand what position he was in with his head in between his legs that grew closer and closer to the floor? No. But did you know that was something Tendo would do? Yep.
“‘Tori, you need to win the match so I can win a bet,” you said, with an imaginary halo hovering over your head. You even tilted your head to meet his eyes as he peered at you from upside down.
Being Shiratorizawa’s manager meant that you had an insight into their training; so, you knew you’d be eating well tonight. The comment wasn’t filled with any tone of concern. After all, this was Shiratorizawa.
“Nani?” Your redheaded friend asked, raising his head to look at you. Tendo’s wide eyes stared at you and into you, serious as Ushijima. Then he burst into his warm persona with a chocolate-sweet smile, “You put a bet on us to win? That’s so sweet!”
“Of course, I did! You guys always win,” you replied like it was a fact. As of this moment, Shiratorizawa hasn’t lost a match this season. You were absolutely sure that they would beat Aoba Seijoh, too. They’ve done it before and it will happen again.
Finally, the doors opened.
The blue and white colors greeted you from across the court. Banners hoping to garner the attention of Oikawa Tooru, the pretty boy setter of their team, were waved around proudly and erratically. Girlish screams echoed through the gym as their team entered.
“They’re very loud,” Wakatoshi muttered under his breath. He glowered at the opposing cheer section, probably putting some people in the hospital from mere shock.
“That’s because they have a pretty boy to cheer for,” Tendo said, lightening the mood as Wakatoshi grew more and more annoyed at the noise.
Oikawa’s reputation for being ‘perfect’ was well-known, mostly amongst the girls. Clearly, the girls in the gym believed in that wholeheartedly. To you, it was annoying. After all, no one was perfect. It was even more annoying dealing with that personality in person. During the practice match, his ego took up half of the gym. Hopefully, he’d be humbled today.
“Didn’t you want Oikawa to come to Shiratorizawa?” You asked despite knowing the answer. Admittedly, you just loved seeing how riled up Wakatoshi got about the ordeal. It was one of the few times the statue showed emotion.
“He’s an amazing setter and would’ve performed to his highest level had he come to our team,” the ace explained without skipping a beat. His eagle eyes focused on the brunette from across the floor, poking holes in him. It seemed that the setter felt the intense stare, because he returned it before turning away with a reddened face immediately.
~
“They’re so loud already,” Iwaizumi complained as soon as they entered the gym. He tried his best to mask his distaste for the cheers, but the outrageous screams for Oikawa made it difficult. “Can you tell them to be quiet?”
“Of course not! They’re my fans and I love them,” Oikawa replied with his cutest smile as he waved to everyone. Squeals of excitement greeted him back, making him grin all the more from the attention to his ego.
“I think I see another fan,” Matsukawa teased, subtly pointing across the gym.
Oikawa’s eyes followed his finger and saw his worst nightmare. Shiratorizawa’s prized possession, Ushijima Wakatoshi, was staring holes into his very being. Oikawa shivered with fear, until his eyes narrowed in on the girl beside him.
Wow, she’s really pretty. Wait – I can’t hit on the enemy!
Turning red, he shifted away from the opposing team. Hanamaki quirked an eyebrow, “Finally realize your attraction towards Ushiwaka?”
Oikawa shivered with disgust, “I’m not attracted to him!”
“Oh?” Matsukawa cheekily smiled. He turned to Hanamaki, continuing, “I bet that he’s hitting on the manager.”
The setter’s ears perked up, “That’s their manager?”
“If you actually looked at your surroundings, you would’ve realized this sooner,” Iwaizumi stated with disappointment. He added, “She was at our practice match, too, Shittykawa.”
Choosing to ignore the obvious slander, Oikawa pouted and sighed, “Too bad she’s with the enemy.”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “Only you could care about that type of thing.”
“Get your head in the game,” the captain barked at the second-years, clearly annoyed that they were just goofing off instead of warming up.
“We’ll win,” Oikawa said before stretching. “We need to.”
~
As expected, Shiratorizawa won with flying colors, led by the genius that was Ushijima Wakatoshi. The match point started with a serve from Oikawa and ended with a powerful spike from Ushijima.
Across from the gym, you saw the setter crumble to the ground. Even with the distance, you could hear Oikawa’s heartfelt apologizes that he couldn’t land an ace service. Some tears were wiped away hastily with shame. Not even the reassurances from his fans stopped the waterfall.
Surprisingly, the pretty boy was an ugly cryer. Seeing him in this imperfect state made you not want to look away. Was all that ego just a show to hide his insecurities?
“Don’t feel bad for him,” Ushijima said, drawing you out of your haze. If anyone who didn’t know him overheard what he said, he would’ve sounded like a cold hearted victor without any humility. But you knew him and his meaning. “He should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”
You sighed but still smiled. “I knew you’d say that.” Then, upon further inspection with your nose, you cringed, “Come on, you need to shower.”
After Coach Tanji gave his victory speech, the boys were dismissed to the locker room. As usual, you were left outside of the restrooms to wait. Fangirls whimpered over Oikawa’s melancholy state and even dared to suggest that Shiratorizawa tipped off the referee.
“If you think we needed bribes to win, then you know nothing about volleyball,” you defended your team, glaring at them like an eagle ready to snatch their prey. After watching these boys practice and endure yelling from their coach for hours on end, no mere suggestion of cheating or bribery would be tolerated.
As the girls opened their mouths to snap back at you, a different voice flew through the air. One that was noticeably deeper than these whiny pigeons. “As much as I hate to admit it, Shiratorizawa won fair and square.”
Of course, that voice belonged to Oikawa. You’ve heard his voice before. Most of the time, it would be higher pitched, flirtatious, and vibrant. Now, it was deeper, more serious, and grey.
“Thank you,” you muttered before being overrun by his fangirls who rushed to console him. You rolled your eyes. Reminding him of his loss wouldn’t make him feel better at all.
Yet, Oikawa perked up to the attention like a sunflower reaching for light. The usual tone of voice returned and his classic smile rose to his face. But when they were gone, the show drew to a close. The setter’s gaze turned to you. Something about it was sad and longing. He just couldn’t accept the fact, that along with this match’s victory, Ushijima had you, too.
“Oikawa,” a voice behind you rumbled. You turned to see a freshly showered Wakatoshi, who smelled infinitely better now. “You should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”
The victim of this constant reminder grimaced and sighed from dejection. “Not this again.”
“You know that I’m right.”
“I could never go there with you, my enemy,” Oikawa spat and crossed his arms.
Should you be here? Probably not since it felt like a lovers’ quarrel but hey, free entertainment. You closed your eyes and leaned back on the bench, blocking out their voices. It was quite easy since you couldn’t rest well from the anxiety of the results for nationals these past few weeks.
Soon, you opened your eyes to find Ushijima gone and Oikawa staring at you. “Why did you go to Shiratorizawa?”
In reality, it was because you didn’t want to leave Tendo alone. Instead, you shrugged, “Good academics.”
“… so why are you with Ushijima?” Oikawa asked, ready to scrutinize your reason. A part of him wanted to know if you were actually single. Another part wondered how anyone could tolerate his presence.
Although you tried to hold yourself back, laughter poured from you. You tried to calm yourself down, but the idea of dating a literal statue with no social awareness - no matter how handsome - made you laugh once more.
Students from Shiratorizawa had a reputation of being stern - unless you were Tendo, of course. In fact, most Shiratorizawa students that Oikawa had the displeasure of meeting seemed that way. So, seeing someone loosely enjoying themselves brought you even closer to Oikawa’s type. Your laughter made him want to laugh, even if he didn’t know why you were laughing.
“I couldn’t date Ushijima,” you explained. “We don’t have the same sense of humor.”
Oikawa shifted to his side, slightly with relief. Subconsciously, he started preening himself. “I don’t think Ushijima can be funny.”
“No, no. He can be funny, but it’s mostly by accident,” you elaborated with a chuckle.
“I like your laugh,” Oikawa declared. You weren’t sure if it was a compliment, since it sounded more like he was telling himself of that fact.
You quirked an eyebrow, “You’re even weirder than I thought.”
“Hey, my team already bullies me enough!” Oikawa whined. Despite his little facade of being sad, he still couldn’t hold back his smile.
You giggled, “They bully you?”
“Over everything!” Oikawa stated with a show of his arms in defeat.
“I wouldn’t bully you,” you proclaimed with sincerity.
“You really are an angel,” Oikawa complimented with awe. “I wish you went to Aoba Josai.”
“Awh, really?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Oikawa nodded. Smirking, you chuckled, “Then, you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”
⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━⊰
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru#oikawa x y/n#oikawa x you#hq ushijima#haikyuu tendou#iwa chan
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I had this idea for some beautiful izuku angst:
so we all know heroes rising, right? of how bakugou got ofa and subsequently lost his memories due to the incomplete transfer or whatever. I have a thought based on that concept.
ofa is a stockpiling quirk, right? we see that it can stockpile quirks for sure, but as a quirk it also keeps in the previous users and their memories, their personalities. I personally headcanon that the reason why bakugou can not remember that he held ofa is because ofa stole his memories. the moments before it happened and the moments during it were taken, absorbed by ofa because that’s all it could take.
so :) if you aren’t quite yet following my thought process, imagine what would happen if midoriya izuku used up the last remaining bits of ofa in his final battle with afo & shiggy... per my headcanon, with ofa being gone from his body, and his memories, experience, his identity stockpiled and saved within ofa, he forgets.
in this... storyline, I guess, deku doesnt find afo & shiggy again until he’s in his 20’s. he has so many friends, mentors, became best friends with bakugou even, and fell in love with you. a high school sweetheart of sorts.
but in order to begin the journey of becoming the greatest hero in the world, he has to end afo & shiggy. it’s just that no one predicted that with the intensity of how ofa was used, and a battle within the vestige that the previous ofa users disappear within the quirk and with the final remnants of ofa, deku succeeds in defeating them at the price of his quirk.
he falls unconscious, so fucking hurt, injured, shaken from the fight as the world cheers for this victory. he’s taken to the hospital, as are many others, and the world waits for him to wake up. and when he wakes up, truly wakes up, in a room filled with faces he can’t name except for inko and bakugou, everyone feels like they’ve been stabbed.
“m-mom?” deku gasps, wincing from his injuries. “what happened, whys kacchan here?” his green eyes look so young, so lost, so confused — and finally they land on you. “who are you?”
there’s nothing wrong with his brain, the doctors confirm, and theres a realization that izuku believed that today was the day in middle school where they were going to be selecting high schools for registration. it isn’t quite said, but you and bakugou already know... ofa stockpiled his memories and burned it away with it.
so now with the war ended, and the world looking for a leader in a man who can’t even remember meeting his idol all might, can’t remember why he’s hurt, can’t remember he was the hero deku, why he’s suddenly 23, and why he can’t explain to the press why he’s suddenly quirkless.
you have to watch deku re navigate himself in this world, refigure himself out. you can’t hope he regains his memories because it’s literally impossible, and it’s a struggle to get him to fall back in love with you because he has so much going on. how do you begin to explain that you were set to elope a week ago? how do you tell a man who can never be who he was who he was? how do you get him to fall back in love with you?
how?
and so you watch and you wait. he’s still the man you love and yet he’s not, and you struggle to accept that. but the thing is, can you accept the same old yet new izuku? can he accept you?
fate versus free will... what a bitch for rearing it’s ugly head so late in the game.
—
—
—
I would like to clarify that you might be like: omg but all might didnt forget!!!!¡¡ so I would like to explain my logic although it’s not good logic lol
all might only remembers his memories and past because he still resided within ofa. his spirit/essence is in it whereas bakugous was ripped out and cast away — like his memories. all might is currently dead in this storyline so like ofa doesn’t even exist within him anymore, keeping izuku from ever remembering anything from when he was 14 till his current age 23. he’s missing 9 super important years in his life and will never get it back & I think this is a type of slowburn angst that can be beautiful because the options of what can happen are endless.
like how would bakugou, todoroki, eri, kouta, uraraka, iida behave towards this knowledge? would eri try to rewind deku to when he had his quirk? what happens if even if she does it, he no longer possess it?
todoroki who literally was able to be who he is right now because of deku? how involved would he be? how hurt would he be?
I feel like uraraka and iida and kouta will be there 100% but they don’t have that emotional weight behind them that bkg, shouto, and eri have but feel free to disagree!!
but bakugou... AUGH!!!! imagine spending a near 8+ years atoning, apologizing, becoming your childhood friend prized rival, friend, and like... he’s currently going above and beyond for an atonement & future apology deku doesnt except or even demand of him because deku never wanted one. the angstttttttt.
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Lycoris Radiata Pt. 3 - Deku x Reader -
Inspired by the piano piece, "Lycoris Radiata," Written by Spikes, played by MusicalBasics.
Highly recommend listening to it whilst reading.
[1] [2] [3]
Word Count: 1.7k
When a childhood love shows up after being lost to time, it's unnerving to be presented by something so familiar yet different. Deku, lost to his own love and presented with the stresses of life and unrequited love, it isn't easy to see the world with an unbiased gaze.
!WARNING!
(This is for the entire series and not just this part)
BIG TW for death, suicide, abuse,
Minor TW for death imagery, toxic relationship, toxic friendship, toxic shit all around
A/n: First off, this last part, please read with caution. There are a lot of serious topics in this one that can be triggering to some people. This feels really weird to post ngl, I was actually planning on posting the entire thing in 1 part but it was ridiculously long and the pacing was so incredibly slow. After editing it down and proofreading, I'm extremely proud and glad I made it a 3 parter. So, again, read with caution, enjoy the story, and I hope you cried.
Imagery used:
Snapdragon seed pods, red snapdragons, red spider lilies
He came to your café a little bit more often now, there was a fear inside of him that he wouldn’t be able to save you either.
He didn’t know from what, where, or when. But after the two innocent girl’s life was taken away from them just because they were in the wrong situation. He felt a little bit paranoid at your own safety.
But almost every time he inquired you to get extra precautions, your boyfriend would always assure Deku that you were safe with him. And Deku trusted him.
Deku would constantly talk to you about whatever topic came into his mind, he wanted to talk to you more and love you even more even if it hurt him. Call him a masochist he didn’t care, love to him was a drug he couldn’t get enough of, even if that very thing giving him so much love can’t receive it from him, because you were receiving it from someone else.
His pink tinted eyes now growing red from the sheer amount of love he had for you. It grew cloudy and red, to the point where he found everything you do close to perfect.
He saw you as a beautiful goddess.
As the days slowly change from Summer to Fall, he saw more of the red flowers he found in the cemetery growing near your café.
When he asked you if you wanted to get rid of them, you laughed and brushed it off with what he thinks was a sly smile.
He wanted to believe that you actually started blooming them around the café since you knew he found them fascinating. Of course, there was no proof to this theory of his, but something Deku liked to do was a dream, and right now he dreamt of you giving hints of your love.
Then one day, he walked by the café just as it was closing on his way home and found your boyfriend yelling at you. You yelled back at him in retaliation and brought your hand up, only to get it caught by your boyfriend. For the first time, Deku finally saw how tight his grip was when he was mad.
He was sure it was going to leave a bruise on your skin. But he didn’t want to interfere.
When your boyfriend left, he finally revealed himself and comforted you. He told himself he was doing this not because he liked you but because you were his friend. He asked you what the argument was about but you looked up at him and smiled.
There was something weird about your smile, something he couldn’t quite place.
“It’s fine. He broke up with me.” Your smile didn’t match the tone of your cracking voice, and he had to stop himself from tightening his grip on you when you pushed him slightly away and begun walking back home.
He saw the red flowers around you bloom brighter than they ever had before, and he thought if it was a sign from her subconscious asking him to prod further. But he won’t, he can’t.
His rose gaze along with the sweet image he has of your boyfriend prevented him from going further.
After all, he was a hero, he knows best when to prod further. Even if he was biased in the situation.
~
Deku looked at his phone and found his text messages unanswered and ignored. He had just gotten accepted to UA, he wants to share the news with you.
But you had moved out from your parents’ house to go live alone in a different city with the school of your dreams. He confirmed this by asking your parents, though they did seem slightly worried over you he expected that of such caring parents. He thinks it was just because you were finally living alone.
But he wasn’t sure why there were so many unanswered texts, why you had completely left his life.
He felt his heart crashing into a million pieces.
It took him a rather long time to get over you. An even longer time to forget about the lasting memories of you.
On his daily run in UA just after getting into his 2nd year, on the road, he found a red snapdragon flower. It was radiant and beautiful. For a split second he got reminded of you, and your strange love for red flowers, though he thought it was just due to your unique quirk.
Not wanting to feel any more pain towards the coming memories, he dropped the flower and continued on his jog.
For some reason, he chose the exact same route the next day, this time he found the snapdragon dried and dead. The seed pods in the fallen stem were terrifying. They looked like miniature skulls and he shivered at the thought of something so beautiful being able to die so quickly.
Finally reaching his third year, he readied himself to become a fully-fledged hero as it was just a year away.
He found himself re-living some of his old memories though, Bakugou had asked him to go back to the forest they used to play as a child. It was his way of apologizing to Deku after all the years of torment.
In their path, they found a red camelia tree. The flowers were beautiful and Deku again thought of you.
Just in cue, Bakugou laughed, “Remember when I made Y/n cry because I smashed one?” Deku laughed at the thought but Bakugou grew quiet, “You know, they never respond to my texts ever again. I never told you that, but we stayed close even after I began bullying you. At the time I didn’t see them as a worthless quirkless person like you.”
Deku rolled his eyes, “Thank you Kaachan.” He said rather passive-aggressively.
“No that wasn’t my point, my point is when you told me they disappeared from your life they disappeared from mine as well.”
Deku shook his eyes, forcing the memories back down, “I don’t want to remember it Kaachan, you know I had the biggest crush on them. They must’ve found better people now.”
Deku pushed the memories down and didn’t let them resurface.
After all, if he was to become a hero, he couldn’t have old memories dragging him down. Even if it meant denying he still had feelings for you.
~
Deku checked his phone repeatedly.
20 unanswered texts, 10 unanswered calls since last week.
Fear bubbled up in his stomach.
What if you decided to leave him behind once again???
What does Deku do when he was stressed?
Drown himself in work.
He opened his laptop and begun reading and replying to hundreds of emails, even reading a lot of spam emails from his admirers. One did catch his eye though.
It was filled with videos. He opened it and from the thumbnails of the videos immediately grew even more panicked.
He clicked on one and watched through it. His eyes widened and fear washed over him like a tide in the sea.
He clicked on another one hoping his hunch wasn’t through.
He clicked on another and another.
He finally accepted it.
All of the videos you sent to him were your recordings of weekly diary entries in the form of video. Each of them you were covered in bruises, tear-stained cheeks, and ragged breathing. Your desperate pleas of not being able to break up with your boyfriend.
He quickly realized your boyfriend was not who he said he was, and that all his actions were just acted. He was a manipulative son of a bitch who trapped you in his spider web. He was the spider stringing a beautiful butterfly in his web. Slowly but surely wrapping you in silk, trapping you, suffocating you.
When he finally finished the last one he quickly ran towards your place. Begging to whatever god there was that you were safe.
“Did you know Izuku?”
Your words in the video echoed in his mind as he ran and ran.
“The flower you gave me were actually Red Spider Lilies.”
He lived rather far away but he couldn’t stop, he won’t.
“I’m surprised you didn’t know what they were nor what they symbolized”
His legs ached and burned but he continued on running.
“They’re symbols of death and moving on, sometimes even reincarnations.”
He finally got to your city and ran to your café, hoping you were there.
“They symbolize the change of seasons from Summer to Fall, truly beautiful flowers.”
When he saw the café closed with neither you nor your boyfriend in sight he continues running to your apartment.
“I never told you this about my quirk, but you know they predict my emotions? I think they can predict my future too.”
He felt like a rabid dog with tears flowing down like waterfalls.
“The spider lilies growing through my subconscious around the café were proof of that theory.”
No, no NO, he won’t let this happen. He won’t let you leave him once again.
He won’t let his rose-tinted gaze show him only your best parts, making him deny all your bad sides all your woes and tears.
He immediately barged into your apartment only to be greeted by the sickeningly sweet smell of flowers.
The room was dark, despite it being 1pm.
He walked slowly through the entrance and found a scatter of red flowers blooming everywhere.
He called your name, no answer.
He screamed for your name, no answer.
But he did get his answer when he arrived at your living room.
The entire room was almost covered from ceiling to the floor with red spider lilies, and the lushest areas where they grew the densest were in the middle of the room.
Deku screamed in agony as he held your hanging body close to his chest.
It wasn’t blood that now stained his fingers nor his clothes. It was the red petals falling down from the ceiling to his hair that taunted him.
It mocked him.
It told him that you gave all the signs, you showed him everything, and yet he was too drugged in the most addictive drug of them all, love, to even notice your hints.
And now he was paying the price.
After all, he was a hero, he needed to be responsible for his actions. Even if it meant finally accepting that you were gone… forever.
#deku angst#izuku midoriya#deku x reader#izuku x reader#midoriya angst#deku fluff#my hero academia#mha#bnha#boku no hero academia#mha x reader#deku x you#izuku midoriya x you#bnha x reader#izuku fanfic#deku fanfiction
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Shoto Todoroki x Reader
A little bit of help
Okay, hiii~ so... I really don't know what this is, I finished boku no hero and I started to read the manga ASAP and now I just want to give some love to my baby todoroki but this is more like... I was trying to set the ambient for my idea of a Midoriya x "useless" reader scenario but then my love for Shoto took over me and it ended up being about him so... I will write that one someday
Warnings: none, it takes place on season 1 and has no angst. Also gender neutral reader (I think...)
The first class with the great All Might had ended and you felt... stupid.
Every single one of your teammates had incredible abilities at fighting
And there you were, with a sweet gas making them fall asleep, but only if you touched them
It could have been good if they weren't much better, there was no way to touch them.
You couldn't even find the invisible girl
And everytime you tried to approach the half an half haired boy a wall of ice would appear between the two of you
No matter how fast you ran or how hard you tried you felt absolutely useless
Your teammate had to carry you all the fight and you were just a burden for your team, you knew it
You knew you were useless since the very beginning. You had been working with your grandma, recovery girl, in the school nursery this last year and you loved it, don't get me wrong
But seeing all those brave kids getting into fights to save the world, thinking about yourself saving people that way... yeah, grandma had told you lots of times that your quirk did also save people but you weren't her, your quirk wasn't really useful at healing either. Yes you could put on a sweet dream someone who was in pain and that same fluid that made them dream could heal them but it couldn't save a life, maybe an arm but not a life
You wanted to go to the battle and rescue the civilians, you wanted to calm them and cure them when they needed it the most
So you decided to take the joining exam for the UA
You still couldn't understand how you made it through, you wanted to believe that even if your gas did not affect the artificial villains your strength sure did but it was... quite difficult to believe
And your only answer was that your cute little grandma had convinced then to let you join
Of course she claims they let you in because how you threw yourself to heal every single one of the soon to be heroes on the field even altough they were your rivals
But what they wanted was for you to beat the villains not to have a great teamwork and a sweet heart oh baby you should listen to your grandma
You tried to shake that thought of your brain and enjoy your very first day as an student on the UA
You failed
"Let's use our quirks to make our phisical abilities greater" yeah, that didn't work out
Luckily for you that thing about expelling the worst calificated was a lie because you were sure that either Midoriya or you were going back home forever that day
'Things can go better tomorrow' you think but yet again you fail in your prediction
After the disastrous fight on All Might's class you had obviously stated to all of your classmates and teachers that you were, in fact, useless
But then again, you already knew you were useless and yet chose to try and become a hero
And your mind could have thought of something better, maybe ask Aizawa for some help or a nicer classmate
But your feet moved towards Todoroki
If you try to give it a rational explanation you can actually find it. He was, alongside with Bakugo, the strongest one of the class and, being honest, you were not brave enough to get even near that angry boy
So yeah... you could say you chose to speak to him because he was the best prepared but deep inside you, you knew well it was the 15 years old teenage that you, even if you deny to accept, actually were. A handsome tall boy who fitted quite well on your type, and to be honest, everyone's, had fight against you, being pretty close, trying to touch any part of his body, avoiding his attacks and trying to prevent what he was going to do... maybe it had made you develope a little crush, but it was for sure little!
So you took the opportunity when you had it right in front your eyes
He approached you just after your fight
"I hitted you with that last wall of ice right?"
Yes, yes he did, you weren't fast enought to avoid the hit but you were stubborn enough to be too close to him even although you knew he would make an ice panel
Maybe in a desperate intent, you tried to make him step back and don't throw his attack at you directly
That failed
And now you had a little hurting mark on your right leg and your right arm
But you weren't angry, you both did what you had to do to get good grades, this was a friendly competition after all
"Yes but-"
"I'm sorry I may have been too tough for a first class fight" you could tell by his face this wasn't the apologies of someone who is genuinely sorry but of someone who knows it's polite to apologise after it
"it's nothing, really, you were fighting for that 10 and so was I, it's cool"
He nodded and turned his back
"Wait! Todoroki... could I ask you... a favour? Please" your checks- No! Your whole face- was turning red now, you were not good at asking for help and even less to someone you barely knew
"Hm?" He nodded again, giving you permission to request that favour
"I'm so weak, I just can't fight, I can't fight like you or Bakugo or even Iida or Uraraka I just... I can't, I can't do anything but to heal and stay still watching how everyone loses" he kept looking straight to your eyes, truth be said, he hadn't took his eyes out of yours since you started talking but now he looked confused and even kinda angry at your statements
"And so what?" Did he took you for an idiot? He surely talked to you like if you were a 6 years old kid
"That I want to be a hero" his eyebrowns bent "and I need help, I... no one has ever really taught me how to fight, no one saw any potential for that on me and... maybe if you could... give me some basic knowledge? I could at least avoid getting hit"
Silent
Absolute silent
You only heard one thing, your heart bumping at an scarily fast race and your
Not only it was beating, your stomach ached, your skin burned and you felt stupid for asking for help so you opened your mouth to retract your words and admit that it was an stupid idea
"I don't train anyone, I have my reasons, I won't train you or teach anything"
And with that he left you, even more disappointed than before
Of course that night you could only think about leaving the heroes course
But after thinking about it you chose to keep fighting
And from that day on, you would train everyday, without any exception.
It didn't mattered that your classmates would though you were a weirdo, you kept imitating every single thing they did.
You stopped attending those classes that were not about fighting, you did not needed them as much as you needed free time on the special playground that the UA had, there you could train much better than on your small room
And one day, while your classmates were eating- something that you hadn't done since the day you started using every second on the UA for training- your body failed you, it needed a break and you wouldn't accept it so it just failed to get some rest.
You weren't able to keep your breathing and your legs weren't going to obey you anymore
So you just... felt
And without having any real strength to stand back you stood there, surrendering
You had been weeks working with no hesitation and yet you hadn't improved in the slightest
You were giving up when Todoroki tended you his hand to lift you up
"I did not want to train you because I really don't want you to get hurt by my training or to feel that I am pressing you too much" you weren't really following him "but if you are going to do that to yourself all alone then it will be better if I help you so you can, at least, improve"
Was he agreeing to train you?
"But first, go eat, second attend all your classes and then we will train"
"Yes!" You answered, ready to become a real hero
#boku no hero headcanons#boku no hero x reader#boku no hero academia#bnha fanfiction#bnha imagines#bnha insert#bnha headcanons#bnha todoroki#shoto todoroki x reader#todoroki x reader#shoto todoroki#shoto x you#boku no hero imagines
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And In Darkness, I Stand- Chapter 4
Kallus' leg is never quite the same after Bahryn. But then again, neither is he.
1 2 3 4 5
4. Yavin IV
“Captain Kallus.”
Kallus turns the best he can, gripping the handle of his cane as he does. Zeb is making his way over, his tall frame parting the flow of traffic in the hall.
“Kal,” Zeb amends with a smile, brushing a hand against the small of Kallus’ back. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Kallus nods, and grimaces. “I don't suppose I can use my position to get out of physical therapy?”
“No. I’ll still carry you there myself if I have to.”
Heat flames across Kallus’ cheek, but there’s nothing he can say to defend himself. His daily routine has been centered around his recovery for weeks, despite his protestations. On his first day back, he reported to Command for an extra few hours rather than going to the medbay, which caused a small uproar among the likes of Hera and Zeb. The resulting situation was a lecture from Zeb and the entire medical staff, as well as a warning from Command as to where his priorities should lie.
But aside from the initial excitement, Kallus has settled in quite well. He has his own post and a small command to his name. He’s been forgiven by the Rebels in an official capacity, and has learned when to ignore the snide comments made by his less-forgiving compatriots. For the most part, his job is normal and steady- he’s in the company of fellow spies most of the time, but everyone on Yavin is well acquainted with danger, regardless of their roles within the Rebellion. He nearly fits in.
It would be better if he were not so limited by his physical ability. He cannot stand on his leg unsupported, so he has been using a cane constantly, save for a few small excursions across his quarters, which, so far, have been painful and short-lived.
Suddenly, Kallus is bad at keeping himself out of trouble, between his efforts to heal and his apparently lacking self-care habits. This is yet another change he attributes to rebel influence, but he rather likes it, even if he is adjusting to this new life slowly.
“You’re improving and you’re not going to stop now,” Zeb growls. He may as well be threatening Kallus, who minds this fact very little. His hand tightens on his cane.
“I know,” Kallus breathes, and drops his gaze. His next step forward is slightly unsteady, but he’s overly aware of Zeb watching him closely and that his friend is fully prepared to catch him should he trip.
Kallus hasn’t fallen in weeks. He can make it all the way across base without needing to rest now. The medics say the fracture is largely healed, and he thinks he must have made some kind of progress over the last few weeks.
“Are you coming with me?” Kallus tries not to sound too hopeful or excited; Zeb usually accompanies him to the medcenter for checkups and therapy, if only to ensure that Kallus himself actually attends.
“Of course.” Zeb glances at him. “‘Til you say you don’t want me there.”
“I do,” Kallus affirms, too quickly, and tries to discern if he’s blushing again. His face still feels hot.
They make their way down to the medcenter, where the staff greets him and Zeb both by name. The journey takes longer than he’d like, and Kallus tries not to count how many people pass him. It’s mid-afternoon by then, and his leg has started to twinge, although he turns away from Zeb and bites the inside of his cheek to get through the moments of pain.
Zeb steadies him as he strips off his jacket and boots, clutching Kallus’ left elbow. Kallus shoots him a grateful smile. He wobbles on one leg, unsteady, and he knows he will not fall.
“Ready?”
It’s not Zeb who asks, but a nurse. Cida Amada, who was one of the first people he got to know during his stay in the medcenter. She barely looks old enough to have such responsibility, with her shy smiles and soft tones, but she and Kallus took a liking to each other. They made each other cry, he lost in frustration and agony, and she hurt after discovering his tendency to yell and swear when in crippling pain. Yet once he had apologized, their relationship improved, and Amada became his primary caretaker, which most predominantly includes cajoling him into showing up for his appointments.
She and Zeb seem to adore each other for this fact. Kallus can only pretend he hates it so much.
He nods, his mouth suddenly dry, and she reaches out to take his hand. He lets her, and Cida smiles at him, not meeting his eyes for more than a few seconds.
“It’ll feel better later even if it’s uncomfortable right now, Alexsandr. How have the last few rotations been?”
She is gentle and kind. Forgiving, too, which is the strangest of offerings he’s even been gifted in his life. Kallus mostly expected to be dead by now, rather than guided through a half-stocked medbay by a medic exclusively trained by war doctors. Cida genuinely likes him, too, which is odd. Both Hera and Zeb had to assure him of this fact, though Kallus is sure she wouldn’t be capable of pretending otherwise. He first had doubts about the girl’s abilities as a liar since she apologized for taking a blood sample from him. She is too good to lie, which, he supposes, is why he’s a former Imperial-turned-spy, and she is a rebel war doctor.
Cida stretches his legs and guides him through a few exercises that should be simple but prove exceedingly difficult for Kallus. He has to touch his toes. Climb stairs. Walk 2 meters with support on either side. He grits his teeth and sweats through it, mumbling curses that Cida and Zeb pretend not to hear when he inevitably falters.
His hands shake for an hour afterward. Kallus showers and lies on his bunk, exhausted.
His leg feels better than it did before.
Had he stayed with the Empire, Kallus would have received higher quality medical care.
He might not be stuck with a limp and a cane.
First, he would have needed to swallow his damned pride and ask for treatment, and then the initial break would not have affected him for the rest of his life. The Imperial meddroids would have returned him to normal in a matter of days, if not weeks, and Thrawn would have never rebroken the leg, even if Kallus had pursued life as Fulcrum. The Empire is equipped with better resources and better training.
But he didn’t ask for help, not upon his return from Bahryn nor any of the painful days after. Konstantine didn’t even look up at him. If anyone noticed he was uncomfortable or weaker, they politely looked away and saved that topic of discussion for when his back was turned. Kallus was alone in caring for himself, and it was thus unimportant to everyone in the Empire, including him. He adopted the same attitude regarding his own health.
Hera had caught him when he collapsed, after Atollon. Cida cried when he cried because she hated seeing him in pain. Zeb has been there for him in more ways than he can count.
Sometimes, Zeb calls him Alex. He hasn’t had that nickname since he was a little boy- his parents never bothered with it and he had few friends by the time he entered the Imperial Academy.
Zeb is the only one, in his entire life, who has called him Kal.
That’s yet another thing they share. Kallus has gleamed that Zeb never fully revealed the truth of what happened on Bahryn, even to the rest of the Ghost crew.
He does not know what would be enough to repay the Rebels. They have so little, yet they give to him, in time and effort and supplies and trust. It would be more just if these things were diverted to another, not to a formal Imperial, but they will not let him refuse their generosity.
Kallus would give his life for these people. For Zeb and the Spectres, certainly, but for those he does not know, too. For the ones who hurl dirty looks and harsh words at him in the mess and hallways, for Cida, for the other Fulcrums, for every rebel on Yavin and the galaxy beyond.
His life would not be enough, when they are the very people who have given it back to him. Kallus’ life is marred and stained and broken. He can offer the rebels service and secrets and loyalty, and he will do all he can to see them to victory.
He wonders about that, too. He would be more confident about winning the war were he still an Imperial agent. He is a man of facts and logic, and he knows that the odds are against the rebels to prevail over the Empire.
But he believes in the rebels. Kallus believes in their cause and their people. That alone has carried them further than Kallus ever predicted.
He would give his life for them without thinking. He gives his hope and keeps his doubt and his cynicism, heavy as they are, so that they do not burden those like Pica and Leia Organa and Ezra Bridger.
Even as a rebel, being a spy still demands a certain mindset of coldness and hardness. Kallus is learning mercy, and he is learning how mercy does and doesn’t fit into his role. Draven has told him more than once that they serve the cause of the Rebellion, not its people.
Kallus is not sure he agrees. Draven has the end of the war in sight, and that is what grants Kallus peace of mind while the familiarity of Draven’s words nags at him.
Draven has also told Kallus that he is still useful, despite his leg. The General had looked at Kallus with pity while he had said it. Kallus will prove him wrong, and his heart sings with a small amount of pride with the knowledge of the difference he has made already under and to Draven’s command.
Kallus is trying to be good in his new role. He is also trying to become someone worthy of the friendship and care that the rebels have shown him.
He wants to be accepted by them. He wants to be their friend.
“Alexsandr!”
The use of his full first name startles him, nearly as much as the alarm in Zeb’s voice does. Zeb is staring at him from across the hangar, Hera by his size. The droid, Chopper, makes some obscene noise that Kallus can only assume is scolding.
The trio is at his side quickly, and Kallus grunts as he loads the shipment onto the shuttle.
“I can do that,” Hera says. She sounds mildly scandalized, and she takes the box from his hands. Chopper wags his mechanical arm at Kallus, and emits a horrifying cackle at the indignation on his face.
“No cane?” Zeb sounds surprised, but Kallus has had a good few days. He’s permitted not to use it for short amounts of time, given that his leg doesn’t start hurting. He and Cida are hoping that this will become the norm, that he will only need his cane some days. Kallus has floated the idea of field missions once or twice already, but he’ll push for more unsupervised walking first.
“Not for a while.” It’s nearly strange not to have the cane in his hand, but he’s been making good use of his free hands for a while. Then: “General, I assure you I am very capable of doing that.”
Kallus tries to take the next box from Hera, who passes to Zeb. In turn, he holds the box over their heads, then sets it in the shuttle.
“You could hurt yourself,” Hera chides. “Let us help you.”
“Lifting a few crates will hardly send me into critical condition,” Kallus protests, but the words are weakened when Hera glares at him. Chopper laughs again. “My leg is injured, not my arms.”
“No extra weight,” Zeb reminds him, taking another box from Hera. “Don’t strain yourself.”
“It’s just-”
“We’re happy to help,” Hera interrupts. She exchanges a look with Zeb, and Kallus bites back a retort. He’s perfectly capable.
The next time he sees Cida, Kallus is sure to mention lightening the restrictions on his carrying weight. She’s willing to negotiate, at the very least, and they argue until it’s agreed that Kallus can lift, but not carry, a few kilos. He’s sure to complain very little for the rest of the session, and the nurse sends him away with a smile at the end of the day.
She tells him he’s making progress; a statement constantly echoed by Zeb. Physical therapy becomes easier and less frequent; he’s fully adjusted to using his cane, although he has started to go many days without it. At first, it’s painful- he can only endure the day without his cane if he stays in Command, but then weeks pass and he can move around base on his own. He’s outfitted with temporary mechanical braces, and he goes on his first field mission as a rebel.
The days are not bad, and the initial mission goes smoothly, as do all the ones after that.
When night falls after he returns, Kallus can barely stand, and the pain reduces him mostly immobile.
Cida worms this fact out of him after he spends two rotations chasing down a rogue informant. He had been late to see her, and stiff and quiet during their appointment.
“You’ll make it worse,” she warns him. His leg has been swelling, too. “Too much at once will only hurt you.”
“I’m useful out there,” Kallus insists, staring at his injured leg. It would be a waste if he remained on base all the time. “If I can get stronger, then I can fight.”
Cida sighs, her eyes full of worry. Kallus looks away, his heart poisoned with guilt. “If you keep doing this, you may last a few months or a cycle. After that, you could spend the rest of your life walking with pain and assistance.”
He nods once. That’s as much time as he needs, regardless of what follows.
Kallus has greater potential than what his leg allows. He could be one of the best ground fighters on base, if his body worked right.
“Does your leg hurt?”
Kallus grunts. “My leg always hurts.” He shifts, moving his lower body as little as possible, but Zeb moves into his full view a moment later.
“You shoulda said something on way back-”
“I’m fine, Zeb.”
“Your cane-”
“It hurts with or without the cane,” Kallus snaps, then averts his eyes. Zeb’s ears flatten, and Kallus’ stomach flips.
“Are you gonna use it now?” Zeb asks quietly. They still don’t look at each other.
Kallus reaches for the offending object and thumps it against the ground. “Yes,” he mutters. That’s the only reason he got here, in some dirty corner of the base. The cane saw him back from the medbay and into the spot where he had chosen to sulk.
Apparently, the covert location wasn’t quite private enough. That, or Zeb knows him too well, because he seems to have sought Kallus out with ease. But here he is, sitting on the floor with Kallus and watching the rest of the Rebellion walk by, totally oblivious to their discussion.
“Today is a bad day,” Kallus says. That’s how he measures time- in good days and bad ones. “I’ve been having a lot of those, recently.”
“You’ve been working hard.”
“I want to go back to normal,” Kallus mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m sick of being weak. I’m tired.” He smiles at Zeb, his lips thin and pursed. “I’m done.”
“Alex.” Zeb is imploring.”How could you think you’re weak?”
“Because I can’t walk down the damned hallway!” Kallus scoffs. “Because I have gone through all this suffering and I am not better! And all I wish is that it would end!”
“That makes you weak, does it?”
“It doesn’t make me strong, Garazeb. Not the way you think I am.”
The Lasat next to him snorts. “Kal, I have seen you walk through hell and back-”
“That doesn’t make-”
“- I know how strong you are,” Zeb finishes, talking over him. “Do you trust me?”
Kallus blanches, his heart pounding. “Of course.”
“Then believe me when I say you’re strong.”
“I’ve never seen it that way.”
The words are nearly inaudible. It’s a shamefaced confession, and Zeb stares at him with wide eyes, taking both of Alexsandr’s hands in his.
“Just because I survived doesn’t mean I’m a martyr, Zeb. Or some inspiration to look up to.”
“That’s half of one of the many reasons I care for you,” Zeb whispers, his voice so, so low. “Not because you’ve managed to survive, but because of how determined you are. It’s the stupid face you make when you’re concentrating and the way your voice gets all high when you tell me about how fine and capable you are.” Zeb chuckles, and Kallus is very acutely aware that Zeb is sitting so close to him that their thighs are touching. “You’ve always been so damn stubborn.”
“You like that about me?” Some alarmed voice in Alexsandr’s head warns him that this is barely tangential to the topic at hand.
“Yeah.” Zeb’s ears twitch, and he drops his eyes from Kallus’ wondrous stare. “Even if it pisses me off.”
“I know it does.”
“Yeah,” Zeb growls, then he deflates as he sighs. “I’ve always known that about you. Even when you were trying to kill me.” He gestures to Kallus, to his brace and cane. “Seeing you recover is another way you’re proving this to me. Your absurd relentlessness. And your strength.” He glowers at Kallus when he says the last word, as if daring him to object. “You’ve always had that.”
“Someone better would have handled it with grace.”
“Maybe.” Zeb shrugs. “You’re tough, not a saint.”
“Thank you, Garazeb.”
Zeb rolls his eyes, shoving against Kallus’ shoulder gently. “Whatever.” He clears his throat. “Maybe all this made you stronger. I don’t care if you get back to normal, or whatever you’ve dreamed up for yourself. I only want you to be happy with where you were.”
“And go to physical therapy.”
“I don’t want you to be in pain.”
“Right.”
Zeb grins. “By the way, if you didn’t want the hurt from your serious injury to go away, then you’re twice as big of an idiot as I thought you were. I have no idea what else you expected.”
“I expected for it to last a few weeks. Not the rest of my life.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wishing for that.” Zeb looks up at the trees, and Kallus thinks of a burning world, razed to the ground by the Empire. Zeb didn’t come away from Lasan unscathed, he knows. “Whatever happens though, here you are, Kal. Even if all you’ve done is survive.”
Alexsandr reaches out for Zeb’s hand, and his friend takes it. Zeb’s words are muddled with affection and friendship and respect. The person Zeb describes sounds like someone Kallus can appreciate. Somebody with an iron will and a conviction for the right kind of things. Somebody worthy of love
That night, Kallus cannot rest. He wanders the halls, on a dreadfully familiar path- the one Zeb takes him on when Kallus has to stretch out his leg. His feet carry him into the cool night air, his cane thumping against the stone after every uneven step.
Kallus searches for privacy, but he cannot make it far outside the base. There are still lights blinking from the hangars and a quiet bustle of nightlife shows that the base is still busy, but Kallus staggers along as far as he can and settles on a log under the cover of some trees.
“Can’t sleep?”
Alexsandr jumps, then he squints in the dark. Some 30 feet away is Kanan Jarrus, sitting on the forest floor with his legs folded beneath him. He appears to be meditating; his shoulder pauldrons and mask are off, and he sounds relaxed.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Kallus calls. He fumbles with his cane and readies himself to stand; he’s still slightly out of breath and now he has nowhere to go.
“No.” Kanan stands instead and approaches Kallus, nimbly stepping over branches and rocks. Kallus stares up at the blind Jedi, then averts his gaze when Kanan takes a seat next to him.
They sit together in silence. Kallus doesn’t mind the company very much; he fiddles with his hands and does his best to ignore the aching in his leg.
“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” Kanan says finally. He turns to Kallus expectantly.
Kallus gives a nervous chuckle. “What is?”
“Healing.” Kanan opens his hands as if he’s referring to the whole jungle, instead. “Even with the people who love you at your side.”
Kallus opens his mouth to protest- he’s not sure who loves him, even if a few people come to mind- but the depth of Kanan’s words hit him a moment later.
“I don’t-” Kallus struggles for the right words. “I don’t believe I’m alone.”
Kanan nods slowly. “I had Hera with me every step of the way. She’s the most understanding, caring person I know.” Then, Kanan shrugs. “But it was impossible for her to understand what it was like, no matter how hard she tried. It was lonely.”
“Yes,” Kallus says slowly, exhaling. “Even- even-”
“Zeb doesn’t understand?” He can hear the humor in Kanan’s voice, although Kallus cannot piece together why Kanan would be amused. “I think that’d be impossible unless he’d been through it, too.”
“Do you know anyone who did?”
Kanan shakes his head. “Not quite.” He smiles, and again, Kallus can’t comprehend why. “I had to find solace in other places.”
“Do you think you’re on the other side?”
“Of recovery?” Kallus inclines his head. “Yes. It’s different now.” Kanan’s smile becomes wistful. “But there’s no going back.”
“You made it through.”
“I did. And you will too. In time.”
“I want it to be over.” The confession falls from Kallus’ lips before he can help it. “I’m so tired of being in pain.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think it will ever pass.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then…” Kallus sighs. “Then I move forward with it, anyway.”
There’s no other choice. He will stay with the rebels until the end, and he will do so however he can. He could lose his leg tonight or he could wake up entirely healed tomorrow morning. Either way, there will be little change to his plans.
“I thought you’d say that.” Kanan rests his hand on Kallus’ knee. “It gets easier.”
“I know.” It has already. Maybe Zeb is right. Maybe he is strong because of what he has survived, and maybe there’s truth to Kanan’s words, too.
“I think you’ll find someone who makes it less lonely. I believe you’ll find yourself on the other side.”
Kallus bows his head in acknowledgment, suddenly exhausted. “Zeb will be yours again, once we get back from Lothal.” Kanan’s seriousness disappears, and Kallus knows the moment has passed. He can’t help that the corners of his lips are quirking up, and Kanan seems to both know and enjoy this fact.
“You leave soon?” The thought is bittersweet; the Lothal rebels returning home again, and Zeb will leave his side.
“Three rotations.” Kanan answers. His tone has become heavy again, but the Jedi does not sound afraid.
“I wish you luck.”
The earliest sign of civilization is a healed femur.
#kalluzeb#kalluzeb fanfic#swr#rebels#kallus x zeb#alexsandr kallus#kallus#agent kallus#star wars#star wars fanfic#sw rebels#rebels fanfic#star wars rebels#SWR fanfic#star wars rebels fanfiction#kalluzeb fanfiction#kalluzeb imagine#kalluzeb headcanons#and in darkness i stand
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HASO, “Connections.”
Hope everyone is having a good day today, and hope you like the story
“Explain the difference to me one more time, I just want to make sure I understand.”
“Of course, sir you see t-”
“Admiral, I’m sorry to bother you but the Chairwoman just called, and she needs to speak with you.”
Admiral Vir stood from where he had been sitting with one of the crewmen, and tucked a notebook under one arm. “My Apologies corporal, can we continue this at a later time.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll send those resources I was talking about.”
“It would be much appreciated.”
He stepped out into the hallway pausing by Lt. Simon as she stood waiting for him.
“What is this about?”
“They didn't say, apparently it's too classified for me.”
“Uh-huh.”
Simon looked back over her shoulder as the two of them made their way down the hall, “What was that abou?”
“Corporal Isaa is a bit of a chemistry genius, I was just picking his brain.”
Simon frowned, “Since when did you care about chemistry.”
Since my ex girlfriend became an exalted saint of her entire planet leaving me to wonder if I ever even deserved her in the first place, and with an overwhelming desire to be better person both morally, physically and intellectually hoping that I might eventually evolve into the kind of man that could ever compare to a woman like her. Even if it never leads to anything because regardless of how I feel, the desire to become better is never a bad thing.
He shrugged, “You can never know too much, Simon.”
She glanced down at her clipboard, “You’ve been very busy the past few days, are you….ok?” She wasn’t really sure if she should be worried. She wasn't exactly good at reading people emotionally. She only really noticed the changes in patterns, and his sudden change to serious intellectual study and going to the gym twice a day struck her as odd.
Adam smiled little, “Fine, in fact….. Better than I have in a while. Turns out, I like to stay busy, I like having things to do, and with two hours before bed to relax and unwind, it's not like I’m working myself to death.”
She supposed that was true enough. Where once the men's schedule had been as hard to predict as the evolution of the seasons, his new routine was as plotted as a grid carved by a laser. He hadn’t changed all that much, still goofy, still insistent on listening to distracting music on the ridge, and wearing those annoying shoes with wheels, but all between his visits to different departments and scrawled notes on hard-copy notebooks, he was beginning to collect in large piles in his quarters.
Two visits to the gym every day, once to work out and once for sparring practice with anyone who would take him on was…. Odd.
A little more so the amount of times he had let Cannon kick the shit out of him, which was many, but the man could take a beating without complaint, so she supposed that was to be…. Admiried?
Pitied?
No
“Is this about, Sunny?”
Admiral vir almost walked himself into a wall stopping just short as he turned to look at her eyebrows furrowed, “Simon?”
“What/”
“I think you’re getting better at reading people.”
He walked past her without answering the question and into the elevator up to the bridge. They stood quietly inside together as they waited, and Admiral Vir left her behind as he stepped onto deck walking over to take the call.
He sat in the captain's chair as the holo projection buzzed to life before him.
“Chairwoman.”
“Admiral.”
“What can I do for you.”
“Are you busy?”
“I don’t have to be, ma’am.”
“Good, good, something has come up, and we need the expertise of your crew.”
He leaned forward in his seat just a bit, “Go on.”
“You recall the planet we sent you too, the one with proof of ancient alien inhabitants though there was no evidence of them?”
He shivered, “how could I forget.”
“And you say you encountered… something.”
He nodded “I seem to recall your psychological experts rejected my experience out of hand as…. Head trauma, wasn’t it?”
She sighed “yes, well…. There have been some developments, come to light, and we believe that…. That we were wrong. We would like you to meet up with the scientific team we are sending over, and, if you don’t mind, bring an evaluation of your experience from Dr. Adric, we may want to analyse it more. Our Team wishes to study it in more depth, if that would be acceptable.”
He bowed his head, “Yes, Ma’am. I will. Expect us there within the hour.”
“Our team won’t be ready for a few of your hours yet, so that should give you time to get that evaluation for us.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
***
Dr. Adric stared at the Admiral, sitting across from him in his office. Despite him being here for wildly different reasons than were normal, he couldn't help but analyse the man as if he were one of his patients.
He looked good, healthy, rested, and relaxed, which seemed uncommon for the man within the last year. He was also more reserved than he had been, which could potentially be a sign of emotional exhaustion or simply increasing maturity, but the man’s easy smile and relaxed posture calmed him to that idea, and he sat back in his chair.
“How are you doing?”
Adam smiled again, “Just can’t help yourself, can you doctor,”
“No, afraid not.”
“I’m alright, hope to keep doing better in the future. I think, Like everyone, I still have my days, but they are less and less as the weeks go on.”
“I am very glad to hear that.”
“Did you get the message from the Chairwoman?”
He nodded, “About your experience on RM-46.”
“Yes.”
“What do you remember?”
He held his holopad in front of him and held it up, recording while he took notes.
“I remember feeling like I was being watched, that was a big one, probably more to do with how eerie the planet was than anything. I was on edge, but not afraid. When I fell into the trapdoor, I remember it was dark at first,”
“Did you hit your head?”
“No, but I did get the wind knocked out of me pretty badly.”
“Go on.”
“There were these little red glowing orbs on the wall and they pulsed on and off as I walked. They were everywhere, and they sort of permeated the room around me which grew bigger and bigger and bigger as I walked, until I was in a massive room, it could have housed a stadium inside it, and at the center of the room I saw this….. this …. Thing… It's hard to describe really but…. Not, impossible to describe, like a tree root, but curled into impossible combinations and connections, where it seemed like one should end another would begin, and where you would assume one would go in front of another it went behind, but in ways that seemed impossible. Like… Like an M.C Echer painting where the water flows uphill. Everything about it seemed to defy the laws of nature but not in a way that one could really explain…. And when I saw it I…. I had such an urge to… to touch it. Like i…. It's impossible to describe. But you know when you've been underwater for too long and you really need to breathe, and you are so desperate for air that you claw your way back to the surface….. It was like that. And so I reached out, and when I touched it it was… warm, and soft like skin. I Didn’t really have long to think about that thought because before I knew it, itw was like I had been knocked away from my body. Ripped out of myself and cast into the universe.”
He raised a hnd to his head rubbing his temples eyes squinted slightly, “Trying to think about it…. Makes my head hurt because…. It was, unfathomable, there was so much of everything extending into infinity, and all of it was trying to fit inside my head at once. I saw things made and unmade and I felt like I was part of the universe. I was being pulled through everything and nothing and…. I.” He closed his eyes, “I’m sorry, it… it almost hurts to think about.”
He took a deep breath,
“And then I felt as if I was going towards something, somewhere specific, and as I approached…. I…. I felt as if I was going home. Not like home to my parents or even my brothers and sisters but… home.” He sighed, “I’m not explaining this very well. But I felt like I was heading back to somewhere I belonged, it felt warm, like if peace was a location, and there was the only place I could find it. It felt like going to somewhere where I would never hurt again, I would never, want anything ever again. And then…..” he rubbed his head again, “And then I can’t describe, it was like I could see…. Like a veil was being lifted from over my eyes and just as I was looking into… whatever it was, the veil slammed down like an iron shutter and I was pulled back…. I…. Have never felt such a sense of loss….”
He reached up a hand and wiped at his eyes, “I can’t even think about it without crying. It hurts so bad, like heartbreak, not metaphorical,but it physically hurts like my chest is being pulled apart. I think about it and I can’t breathe.” He took a deep breath resting his hand against his chest, “It never seems to fade. If I try to think about it too much, I just hurt.”
Dr. Adric reached out a hand and rested it on the other man’s arm, “We can stop.”
He took a deep breath and nodded, “It's just so, strange. Nothing has ever had that kind of effect on me before, and then just to be told it was all from head trauma, well I don’t buy it. But that wasn’t even the weird part.”
“No?”
“No, when I was there… I didn’t feel… alone…. It felt like, as I was carried away, I was wrapped in the arms of…. something …. Like a child, and when they took me away they said that I wasn't’ ready yet. I Could have imagined it I guess, but I swear, it told me that I wasn’t ready yet, and that is when I woke up five miles away from the city before it collapsed.”
They drew into a long silence.”
“I see.”
“Do I sound crazy?”
“No, I have just never seen a reaction like that…. And you say whenever you think about it.”
“I try to think very little about it. The last time I tried in any sort of way I ended up on the floor in the fetal position sobbing like a child and fell asleep there waking up with an absolutely massive headache, so ys, I try to avoid it whenever possible.”
Dr Adric frowned, “I think that is something we should look into.”
It looked as if Adam was about to argue, but then sighed, “Alright after this is over, I promise, we can look into it, but I am almost 100 percent positive, it isn’t just my head. There was something out there…. something …. Something I am supposed to be a part of, but I’m not.”
Adam turned his head to stare out of the room and into space.
***
Deus, that word again.
He sat at the desk in his room staring at the piles of notebooks before him, and the projected map hanging in the air just off to the side. He spun in his chair to stare at the projections.
Deus…. The latin word for god or deity repeated back to him from the mouths of aliens.
At the projected map before him, the locations where he had heard those words blinked and pulsed slightly as little lines of glowing thread connected them.
First, it had been the infected starborn, and then it had been the Leviathan, and then from the city before the collapse. Why would a latin word make its way into the vocabulary of creatures who had never even heard latin before. Or perhaps this was just some sort of fluke, it was a big universe and some of the sounds that alien made sometimes made human words, it was bound to happen. But the fact that they meant the same thing swas odd.
He wondered if it was some kind of greeting instead, but shook his head thoughtfully, no, they had been talking to him when they said it, directly speaking to him, but that hardly made sense either, last time he checked he wasn’t some great dity of overwhelming power.
He assumed he would have noticed by now.
He tapped his foot lightly against the ground, and off to the side waffles raised her head, wagging her tail slowly across the floor.
“You confused too, girl?”
She whined softly and rested her head back on her paws.
He turned to look back at the map. He was missing something here, a very big piece of something. And he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what.
Of course that wasn’t going to stop him he supposed.
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I spun the wheel! Trapped + Beach = John :)
From Across The Ocean
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: Teen
Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort
Characters: John, Scott
And this should be the last one from the original batch that came through, at least. Sorry it’s taken a whole week to answer... uni is hectic and my muses rebelled by being unco-operative.
I’m eyeing this prompt and I’m thinking this might get a little into panic attack territory, rather than anything physically whumpy, so small warning there.
Spin the wheel of whump and give me a character!
This was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea and John had no idea why he’d ever agreed to it. Had he even agreed to it, or was it one of those times where no-one had bothered to ask him and he’d just been dragged along anyway? It had been a few years since the last time that had happened, his family learning their lesson about forcing him out of his comfort zone the hard way, and he found it hard to believe that they’d make that mistake again.
Then again, his family weren’t here. His family were back home, probably fast asleep because of the time difference, leaving him with a group of college peers who had decided for some reason that the best thing to do was a day trip to the beach. He’d been dragged, entirely reluctantly, to join them with promises that it was a quiet beach and no, there wouldn’t be many people.
Clearly, they thought it was a little white lie and that he’d get over it. His course mates were still strangers, acquaintances at best, and hadn’t yet understood that his reclusive nature was entirely by choice. He wasn’t shy, he just didn’t like people.
And he hated crowds.
The beach was a hive of activity, teeming with humans in a living, breathing, pulse of people. He’d frozen up, unable to take another foot forwards, to join that monster, and his stupid, ignorant course mates had just laughed and dragged him through the sand until he was stuck right in the heart of it all.
Then they’d left him, dumped him on bag duty on the assumption that he was just being antisocial and therefore could guard their bags while they all threw themselves into the sea - teeming with almost as many bodies as the sand of the beach itself - and all John could feel was the pressure of so many people.
Packed in like sardines, people kept touching him, a hand on his shoulder as they skipped over the bags piled around him in a scrambled defensive barrier that completely failed at its designated task, tripping over his feet even though he was hugging his knees tightly to his body, trying to make himself small enough that no-one would notice him, no-one would touch him.
It didn’t help. It didn’t stop the noise, didn’t stop the people brushing past him, didn’t stop the claustrophobia or the choked-up feeling in his throat. Breathing was hard, too hard, and he should unfurl himself, but that meant making a larger surface area for people to interact with, and just the thought of that tightened his airways more.
He couldn’t get out. He didn’t care about the bags, would happily abandon them in a heartbeat if it meant escaping, no matter how his course mates would react, but getting out meant clambering over warm bodies, meant doing to other people what was being done to him, meant more physical contact, and the mere idea of it was enough to have tears running down his cheeks, air harder and harder to draw in.
He was trapped. No way out, no escape, and he curled up tighter, praying for the hell to miraculously disappear.
His phone dug into his thigh, poking through the thin shorts he’d been prodded into wearing for the trip, and it was stupid, but John was long past rational thought as he fumbled it from his pocket, almost dropping it into the sand when trembling fingers failed to grip it properly, and instinctively mashed the first number on speed dial.
Almost immediately, he went to end the call, a spike of rationality hitting again. A phone call wasn’t going to help, and the time difference meant he’d still be asleep anyway and-
“John?”
The call connected before he could cut it, his big brother’s voice distorted by the speakers and still drowsy with sleep, and his trembling fingers froze just short of the end call symbol.
“John, are you okay?”
Scott’s first instinct was concern, even though he was clearly still waking up, but perhaps that should be because he was still waking up. John knew the timezones, did the math instinctively, and never called them before dawn.
Back in Kansas, dawn was still a little way off.
“John?”
Concern was rapidly shifting to worry, and it was that familiar tone, the big brother sensing something was wrong and immediately hunting for ways to set things right, that had him whimpering his brother’s name.
Scotty. He hadn’t called him that in years. Not like this, a plea and a prayer.
“I’m here, John,” Scott promised, even though he was just a voice in his ear, not one of the warm bodies pressing against him - the only warm body John ever willingly suffered on a regular basis, because the rest of the world was one thing, but his big brother was a barrier of safety. “Can you talk to me?”
The sleep had vanished from his voice, big brother wide awake at the prospect of a little brother in distress. John hadn’t been that little brother in years.
Since the last time he’d called for Scotty in that little whimpered plea and prayer.
He tried, searched for words, attempted to vocalise them, but he couldn’t grasp them, couldn’t get his breathing to stop hitching long enough for his lips to form them.
“Okay, okay.” Scott cut through his attempts, calm and steady in a whirlwind world that wouldn’t stay still. “Okay, John, you need to breathe. Can you take a breath for me? As deep as you can.”
He tried, clinging to his brother’s voice, but his throat hitched again and it turned into the gasp of a drowning man. Scott stayed steady in his ear, reassuring him, coaxing him to try again, counting him until there was air reaching his lungs again and wrapping him in the security of a big brother.
There was no demand what was wrong. No insistence that he talk to him, even though John knew Scott had to be panicking and running through scenario after scenario in his head, trying to work out what had sparked the whole mess. Just reassurance, a steady voice in his ear keeping him grounded and helping him breathe.
“Sorry.” It slipped out, an apology for worrying his brother, for waking him up, for forcing him to help him from the other side of the Atlantic.
“Don’t apologise.” Scott’s reply was quick, automatic, and predictable. “I’m always here if you need me, John. Always.” The last word was more than a promise, it was an insistence, a full binding oath. “Where are you?”
The warm bodies were still there, but Scott’s voice was like a forcefield, keeping the full force of them from hitting him. Keeping him safe.
He told him, even though there was nothing Scott could do about it. His big brother couldn’t work miracles, no matter how hard he tried, but a small part of John clung to the childish hope that maybe, just maybe, Scott would appear in front of him and guide him out of there.
Of course, that didn’t happen. Scott was in Kansas, teleportation still only existed in fiction, and John was on a beach in England.
What did happen, a while later but John was still on the phone, still talking to Scott about anything and everything and trying desperately to forget where he was, was a flash of blond and designer sunglasses covering bright blue eyes.
“John, darling,” Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward said, delicately picking her way past the warm bodies towards him, her own forcefield of upper class and a scowling bodyguard parting them like the old story of Moses and the Red Sea. “You look rather lost.”
A perfectly manicured hand hovered in front of him, not quite touching but an invitation, and John accepted it.
The bags were forgotten, a lesson for course mates to learn, as she led him out through the crowds and into a familiar pink car.
His phone was still pressed to his ear, the call still connected even though Scott had stopped talking when John had stopped responding, and John didn’t know how he’d done it, but, “Scott?”
“Yes, John?”
“Thank you.”
“Any time, little brother.”
There was only one way Penelope could have known to come looking for him.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds are go fanfiction#tsari writes fanfiction#john tracy#scott tracy#thunderangst#drabbles#such-a-random-rambler#from across the ocean
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Kerry/Sandy Angst (of course) #49!
Thank you for the ask ❤️.
This turned into more of a one-shot than a drabble/ficlet even though it was hard to write. Angst below the cut.
Kerry/Sandy Angst #49 - “I wish we never met.”
Ispeci pa reci (Think before you speak)
With a gentle shake of her head, Sandy let her hair out of the towel as she walked into the living room. Kerry was curled up in the corner of the couch, or at least, curled up as much as her hip would let her. Sandy knew it had been bothering her more than usual recently, not that she had said anything. But Sandy had grown well attuned to the little hints and giveaways, that she could just about always tell when Kerry was hurting. And it seemed that was the defining feature of their lives recently; pain.
Draping the damp towel over the back of a chair temporarily, Sandy made her way over to where Kerry was sitting and hovered in front of her with an apologetic smile. Kerry didn’t look up from her reading material but bunched her feet up more towards herself and Sandy took it as an invitation to sit down at the other end of the couch.
“You’re not still giving me the silent treatment are you?” Sandy asked lightly, bringing her own feet up onto the couch cushion and mirroring Kerry.
Kerry sighed. “I’m not doing that,” She spat out, speaking properly for the first time since Sandy had arrived home.
The lack of communication between them was starting to annoyingly eat away at Sandy, who wasn’t as used to keeping things bottled up like her wife. She had always thought it was best to be open and that was what she had tried to do.
But for the second night in a row, she had come home to a glum-looking Kerry and even her attempts to cheer her up with an offer of ordering her favorite takeout had failed. No longer feeling like eating, Sandy had chosen to try and relax with a shower instead, but even in a different room the tension had still lingered between them.
“Well, you’ve been like this since the other night,” Sandy tried again, knowing she was bordering on unpredictable territory. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of earlier this week, but she took the risk and lent forward.
Gently she brushed the bangs that were in Kerry’s glassy eyes away, ending the action with a gentle stroke of her cheek. Kerry reciprocated the moment, letting the tension drop out of her body, and reached for Sandy’s hand that was resting against the side of her thigh. No longer putting up a barrier, Kerry appeared a lot smaller.
“I’m just tired, Sandy,” She said, trying to look busy organizing the papers in her hands to buy more time before she spoke again, not completely trusting her voice not to devolve into something she could not control. “Tired of everything being so hard for us.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Sandy squeezed her hand tight. The simple contact made Kerry’s vision blur more with tears. “I know it’s hard, but things will get easier. I promise.”
“I’m not upset with you,” Kerry assured. “And I’m not trying to force you into anything. I understand. But it is just-“ She paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “You won’t even consider it?”
Sandy threw her head back in frustration, recognizing the small pleading tone in Kerry’s voice that had returned. “Who says I haven’t considered it?” She replied. “Kerry, ever since we started talking about it, about having a baby, even though you were set on carrying yourself, it still crossed my mind. Whether I wanted to carry a child of my own one day. And I came to the same decision then as I am now.” She explained. “I want this for you. I want this for us.” There was regret in her voice as she watched Kerry unravel before her again, though she had to be firm. “But I can’t be the one.”
“Well I can’t do it again can I?” Kerry cried, her words equal part question and statement. “I can’t have that happen again!”
“Maybe not now, but when you're ready. You will want to try again. It won’t feel like this so much.”
“No,” Kerry shook her head furiously and wiped her nose with the end of her sleeve. “It hurts too much.”
Sandy swallowed down the lump of guilt in her throat. It would be so easy. So easy to just say yes. To take this pain away. But she couldn’t.
Kerry had got it into her head that it would be such an easy fix. But even if it was something Sandy wanted, it was never going to be that. But she couldn’t accept that, not yet, not when everything was still so raw.
“I don’t know what you want me to say...”
Kerry lent forward and took her hands, a pitiful smile falling on her face. “I want you to say that you will try. Try as I tried. That it will work out. That it will be okay.”
Sandy tilted her head to the side and shook it slowly. “Kerry, don’t do this again, it’s not fair.”
“Is it that you don’t want a baby with me? Is that it?” She questioned harshly, cutting Sandy off. Things were racing out of her mouth now without much thought. Her desperation turned into anger. Anger at the world which was being pushed on the one person she loved most.
“You know that’s not true,” Sandy said calmly, knowing that Kerry didn’t truly mean what she was saying. She would give her a chance, but before she had even finished her sentence Kerry was already speaking again.
“How do I even know you actually wanted it? The baby we lost?”
The words hung in the air like spears. Jamming themselves into Sandy’s sides and piercing every single doubt and emotion she held within. She’d found it difficult to navigate her own feelings after the miscarriage. Not truly understanding her own emotions nor feeling that she had the right to be that upset. It had happened to her but at the same time it felt like it hadn’t. And now Kerry was throwing it back in her face.
“I-” Kerry froze. She had crossed the line. Crossed it badly. The cruelty of her own statement shocked her. An apology built in her throat, but she couldn’t force the words out. Fear blocked her.
Sandy watched her for a few moments before nodding as she realized Kerry had clammed up and that an apology wasn’t going to be forthcoming. Not that she even wanted an apology. The conversation had been all so predictable, but this was different. It was too much.
“You know what Kerry? Sometimes…just sometimes,” Sandy stood up slowly, her movements collected and calm, contrasting against the intensity in her voice. She walked towards the hanger and picked up her coat which she straightened down onto herself with a force that pulled on her aching shoulders.
“I wish we never met,” She said, punctuating the end of her sentence with the slamming of their apartment door as she left.
#cause there wasn’t already enough canon-ish baby angst being written#i edited this quickly so sorry for any mistakes#my writing#prompt ask#er fanfiction#kerry weaver#sandy lopez#tw: miscarriage#tw: infertility
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@humongousturkeywinnerflap
It was once again 5PM on a Friday evening, and Akira was nearly vibrating in place at the anticipation of what this hour would bring once again. He fluffed a bouquet on display on a stand nearby just to occupy his hands, wishing that time would pass faster. College this week had been rough, preparations for winter finals fully under way, and Akira couldn’t wait to relax over the weekend, his very first step to unloading his stress soon to walk through the doors of the flower store.
“What’s got you in such a bright mood, Kurusu?” his boss asked, trimming stems on a bucket of tulips at the counter. “You’re so chipper on Friday evenings, even though you come here straight out of school!”
“It’s nothing. I just thought of something nice,” Akira dismissed her, and when the door to the store suddenly opened with a jingle of the glass chime, Akira whipped around with his heart in his throat. “Welcome to Rafflesia!”
“Hello.” The boy who had walked in was the one Akira had been waiting for, the one that he waited for every Friday evening for the last month. The urge to grin was strong, but Akira settled for a polite smile, bowing to his favourite customer.
“Welcome back,” he amended his greeting, walking up to meet the young man with the soft brown hair and the yellow peacoat. “What bouquet can I help you with today?”
“I didn’t realize I was being remembered,” the man chuckled, low and pleasant but distinctively sad somehow. He loosened the knitted scarf around his neck as he met Akira’s gaze, his dark red eyes tired, but curious. The twinkle in them spoke both of melancholy and amusement.
Akira’s heart skipped a beat, overcome with the urge to unravel all the dichotomies that made up the man he wanted to love.
“Not many of our customers know exactly what they want when they walk in here,” Akira simply explained, glad for the opportunity at conversation. “You’ve come here for the past four weeks, at the same time, asking for the same thing; a bouquet for the flower of your choosing, different each week. It would be difficult not to remember you.”
“I see.” The young man seemed conflicted about how to respond, swallowing visibly but ultimately nodding his head in gratitude. “Well, forgive my predictability, but I am here to do just that once more.”
“I’d be happy to help,” Akira immediately assured him, flashing him a bright smile. “My name is Akira Kurusu, by the way.”
“Thank you, Kurusu,” the young man smiled back, placid and controlled, and didn’t offer his name in return. “I was wondering if you had any purple hyacinths today. A bouquet of them with white accents might be nice.”
Purple hyacinths; sorrow, like an apology with hope for forgiveness not yet granted. Akira’s heart quaked once again at the pain he saw in the actions of his favourite customer, always managing to catch him off guard despite asking for roughly the same thing.
His bouquets, like his eyes, were always so sad.
“Follow me, I’ll get started,” Akira invited, leading the young man to the counter. Gratefully, he noted that his boss had gone to the back, leaving the two of them alone in the store.
After collecting the hyacinths and accent flowers from the fridge, Akira brought them back to the counter where the young man was busying himself on his phone.
“I don’t mean to pry,” he ventured, trimming the stems slowly as to extend the conversation, “but I was wondering if you knew what the flowers you request stand for in floral language.”
“Why do you ask?” The red of his eyes glinted with curiosity and perhaps some cautiousness.
“There’s always something sad about the flowers you’ve chosen so far,” Akira simply replied, jumping into it with both feet. “The first week, you chose petunias; resentment and anger, but also admitting to a soothing presence.”
He saw how the man’s face froze, eyes widening slightly. He wondered if perhaps he should stop, just to alleviate the stress suddenly visible in his shoulders, but figured that he may as well break down the walls between them and hope for the best.
“The second week, it was dark crimson tea roses; for mourning, and eternal remembrance.” He arranged the accent flowers around the hyacinths with a steady hand. “The third week, it was a bouquet of mixed zinnias, for the memory of a loved one absent or long gone.” He didn’t meet the young man’s eyes, wrapping the bouquet in paper, then film. “On week four, it was a gorgeous bouquet of cyclamens. Resignation and goodbye.”
Wrapping a yellow ribbon around the base of the bouquet, Akira tied it into a bow and finally presented it to his customer.
“And this week, it’s purple hyacinths,” he finished, meeting his eyes and noting how shaken he seemed. The shock quickly dissipated, however, replaced by something a little more bitter.
“An apology,” the young man scoffed, accepting the bouquet almost resentfully. “And begging to be forgiven.”
In the silence left by the vacuum of the heavy admission, Akira could not help but admire the boy who spoke of devastation and yet still stood so tall. Quietly, he drank in the sight of him, wishing he could be on the other side of the counter, wishing he could be a primrose boutonniere on his breast pocket, laying radiantly claim to his heart. Instead, however, all he could do was punch the total into the register, and ring him up in total silence.
There was still silence when the young man rifled through his pocket for his wallet, slow and contemplative at first, and then a little more urgently. Akira watched as suddenly, the sorrow morphed into fear, and he placed the bouquet down on the counter to search his pockets better.
“Oh no,” he finally concluded,looking totally lost. It was an innocent look, one that Akira found cute on his otherwise-austere face. “It seems I’ve forgotten my wallet somewhere today. I’m sorry. You went through all the trouble of making me a bouquet and I’m unable to pay for it.”
“It’s okay,” Akira said on a whim, his heart beginning to race as he spoke faster than he could process his words. “This bouquet is important to you, right? I’ll let you have it for free for today.”
“I couldn’t possibly accept.”
“Please do,” Akira insisted. “Whoever is receiving these bouquets will surely be heartbroken if they don’t get one today.”
He watched the gears turn in the young man’s head as he contemplated the offer, his pride weighing against his heavy heart. Finally, when he sighed, Akira knew he’d won.
“Alright. I accept.” Bowing lightly to Akira, he accepted the bouquet, cradling it reverently in his hands. “I’m in your debt.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Akira assured him lightly, although he didn’t like the look of sadness that had encroached back onto his face at the sight of the flowers. “Although if you really want to make it up to me, how about you to let me meet the person who’s getting all these thoughtful, expensive bouquets every week?”
“Huh?” Seemingly caught completely off guard, the young man’s eyes widened. “I, I can’t, it’s-”
“I’m not forcing you,” Akira corrected quickly. “I just... You always look like something’s on your mind. The past four weeks have shown me as much, and I just... wish I could do something for you, other than wrap your regrets together with a colourful bow and send you off to wither away alongside them.”
It must have felt like an accusation, for the brown-haired boy glanced away, guilty, burdened. It broke Akira’s heart to see him like that.
“I just want to know who you are,” he murmured, his voice loud like thunder in the empty store. “All of you.”
“Goro Akechi.”
“Huh?”
“Goro Akechi,” the young man replied, his eyes still sad, but his voice firm as he contemplated the purple hyacinths. “That’s my name.”
“Goro.” Akira loved it. He loved the sound of it, he loved the feel of it, he loved how it suited him. He wanted to plant a field of gardenias to the melody of his name. “Are these flowers for someone you love?”
“My...” he hesitated again, but then sighed, his shoulders dropping under the invisible weight he carried. “My mother. They’re for my mother.”
“Oh...” It didn’t take much to guess the story behind the flowers, then. “I’m... sorry about your loss.”
“Don’t be,” Goro corrected him hastily. “She passed away a long time ago. It’s just that... my father died recently as well, and that’s brought up some... difficult feelings from my past.”
“I see.” There didn’t seem to be much else to say, and the conversation drained through the cracks at their feet. The silence stretched, so much so that eventually, Goro shuffled back, beginning to leave. At the sound of his footsteps, Akira’s heart tugged in every direction.
“Well, I suppose I-”
“I want to hear it,” Akira cut him off, breathless in his haste to keep him anchored, not to let him drift away into the dark sea again. “Your story. If you’ll tell me, I want to listen.”
Innocent surprise in his eyes, Goro stared at him for a moment, as if trying to guess his intentions. Akira didn’t have any, however, and bared himself to his new acquaintance’s gaze. Goro must have determined his transparency to be true, for finally, he etched a tiny smile that he attempted to hide by turning around.
Akira caught sight of it just as he turned, however, and elation welled up in his heart.
“I finish at 9PM tonight,” he said breathlessly, watching as Goro’s shoulders hitched, like laughter or perhaps a sob. He wouldn’t know. “I’ll be here for you.”
And Goro left wordlessly, letting Akira watch his retreating back with hope and affection riding upon it.
When Goro came back that night, Akira waited for him in front of the closed shutters of the store, and as they met, he pinned a single white violet to the lapel of his coat, slipping his hand into Goro’s and holding on tight.
#shuake#akeshu#p5r#persona 5#i used one dictionary for the flowers so the meaning might differ but heres what they mean#primrose means i can't live without you#gardenias mean you're lovely or a secret love#a white violet means let's take a chance on happiness#anyway i love shuake thanks for coming to my ted talk#flower shop au#persona 5 royal#p5 royal#akira kurusu#goro akechi#ren amamiya#cin's writing
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