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its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons · 3 years

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pairings: Lucifer x Fem!Reader, Mammon x Fem!Reader, Leviathan x Fem!Reader

warnings: tw abandonment (but it turns out okay, I promise), mentions of the act of birthing,

A/N: you came to the right place! as the second oldest of six children, I have some experience when it comes to pregnancy:) I hope you don't mind, nonny, but I'm gonna split this up into a few parts so I can do the dateables as well!

Lucifer

The moment you had shyly produced the positive pregnancy test from the pocket of your hoodie, it felt like Lucifer had entered into a fever dream filled with nursery designs, baby names, the expenses that pile up before the baby even arrives, researching human pregnancy, keeping you out of harm's way and healthy and happy...

So when you first stagger out of bed and rush to his bathroom, hand clamped over your mouth and one shaky hand on your slightly swollen tummy, Lucifer isn't surprised

He is very concerned, however. You had been so nervous to tell him of your pregnancy, you waited until the last moment before your bump was noticeable to tell him

That meant you had been suffering from all of these pregnancy side effects before he'd permanently moved you to sleep in his room

Lucifer hoists himself out of bed and pads into the bathroom, gathering up your hair, if any, into his fist and pulling your hunched form between his legs for support

You hate this feeling with a passion; throbbing stomach and a lump in your throat with little to no vertigo and tears rolling down your face as you try and catch your breath

You tell him it hurts, you ask him if he can take the pain away as your head rests on his chest, lashes fluttering with wooziness

Lightheadedness was unbearably common; you would suddenly grip his sleeve and he could watch the color drain from your face and your knees get shaky, body beginning to sway

He always catches you though, finding a place for you to sit or lie down and gather yourself

Tummy rubs become more common; the feeling of his hands against your bare tummy, spreading their warmth and nullifying the ache, allowing you to relax

He's extremely attentive as well and can tell whenever you need something

Water? Here's a cup sweetheart, remember, you're hydrating and eating for two people!

Craving something? Chocolate? Fried pickles? Chips of some kind? sweets? He's stockpiled anything you could want and locked it away just for you.

I feel like Lucifer would want your baby to be a little girl. A little princess he can carry on his shoulders and spoil with his love and gifts.

Satan ruined him for having another baby boy, but if that's how the cards fall, he certainly wouldn't mind. Unfortunately, he'd be constantly walking on eggshells, afraid he'll make your little boy into another rebellious child

That's the last thing he wants

Lucifer does his best to keep his kid away from Satan and Belphie and out of the 'Formerly Anti-Lucifer League', but sometimes you're taking a nap or out shopping with Asmodeus, and Satan and his brothers manage to coerce the little one into their shenanigans

One thing is for sure though, even if Lucifer didn't want any kids and the creation of one was unplanned, he would never ever turn you away

He's very responsible and does anything in his power to make the pregnancy as easy and happy as possible

On the day you are to give birth, he's a mess

He has already sweat through 3 shirts by the time the IV has been secured to your hand

Everything he says doesn't come without a stutter

He's squeezing your hand and kissing your hair during labor, trying to distract you from the burn between your legs as much as he can

You probably need extra stitches from baby's horns ngl

Definitely cries before the baby is even put in your arms

Refuses to let his brothers come and see you, "They can wait until we go home."

Lucifer is Smitten™

He smooches the tiredness under your eyes and tells you to get some rest

Surprisingly, he enjoys a lot of the names from the human world you discuss and will most likely pick one of those

But if it's a girl, her name is Lilith. I'm sorry MC, your input is invalid at this time

You don't regret 'final day in the devildom sex' at all when you get to witness the Avatar of Pride reduced to tears when the nurse puts the child in his arms

P-P-Pregnant? MC, ya better be jokin'...

Mammon

You weren't, judging by the pregnancy test(s) clutched in your fist

He's not mad at you, he's not upset, (in fact, he's the happiest he's ever been), he just scared

Broken Condom Victim™

He loved you just a bit too hard last week...

but let's be real here, HIS MC, carrying HIS baby?

That's like the highest level of ownership on his lovely human you could get! Levi, Asmo, Beel, Lucifer, everyone would be SOOOO JEALOUS!!!

AND

He gets to have a little one running around again!

You saw how sweet he was to babified Satan in the obey me anime premier! He LOVES little kids and nothing would make him happier than someone to play with (besides MC of course) that wouldn't make fun of him for messing up and being silly!

AND

You're so pretty!!

I mean, ya were always pretty, but somethin' about ya is different and yer even more beautiful than before somehow!

Mammon said, his entire face the shade of a pomegranate

Pregnancy glow is REAL

Asmo agrees, after stealing you away from an extremely overprotective mammon and hiding in the attic to chat without disturbance (mammon)

But as much as YOU know he would be the BEST father, comments from his brothers continue to drag him down and the evenings he cried into your shoulder became more and more frequent as your pregnancy progresses

Mammon, as we all know, is, in fact, a tiddy man

He likes to touch and squeeze them, and just gently hold them while cuddling or even browsing in a store, he'd just come up behind you and touch your boobs

(also, mammon likes all sizes, so if you have next to no tiddy like me, you'll be at his mercy as well. those with the large honkers, however, watch yourself)

Now that there's a miracle growing in your tummy, other parts of your body are preparing for its arrival, including your chest

Swelling, swelling, soreness, growing and darkening of the nipples, and swelling make it so Mammon can no longer touch your pretty tiddies :(((

(grammarly didn't like that word)

On the day mammon snack size was to be born, mammon is silent but extremely fidgety

It was early in the morning when you'd shaken him awake like, "mammoney, I'm going into labor" and he was out of bed and out the door with your luggage before you finished blinking

After grabbing your DDD's and you, he carries you down to the car (what dysfunctional family doesn't have a car? a nice one (Mercedes, Audi, you get the idea) for lucifer and a Volkswagon bus or something for his siblings to share) and drives quickly, but very carefully drives to the hospital, holding your hand the whole way.

He covers your eyes when they put the IV in, just in case you're squeamish, and rubs your arms as the drugs begin to take effect and there's a little fear in your eyes at the thought of pushing an entire human/demon being out of your coochie

He assures you and never lets go of your hand no matter how long you're in labor

When it's all over with and you are resting in your hospital bed waiting for the doctors to finish the Apgar tests and give you your baby

Mammon is speechless as the nurse places the baby in your arms

That's HIS KID!!

Immediately starts crying

The little horns poking out of the blanket? Those look just like his!!

Judging by the bit of hair on it's head, it looks like the baby will have hair like yours

If it's a baby boy, he thinks it should be named "Mammon II" but you just giggle and remind him of the deal he made with lucifer long ago, that his first born child, no matter the gender, had to have 'Lucifer' somewhere in their name

Human names are dumb, except for yours of course, so he searches for suitable demon names

The last thing he wants is a kid named Lucifer, so that will be the kid's middle name

He really regrets his past decisions now

Leviathan

"Levi?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I'm pregnant."

*leviathan has been KO'd*

No joke, this man is literally floored and didn't wake up for a while and you were afraid you had just slain the fucking Lord of Shadows

Some Henry you were

You had to call Lucifer in to wake him up because he was still flat on the floor a half and hour later

Mammon is more that happy to tip a bucket of ice water on the face of the son of a bitch that impregnated HIS MC

Levi wakes up and pounces on you, gripping you tightly by the arms

"You're k-kidding r-right?"

Him? A father?

Uhhhhhhh

Unfortunately, Leviathan.exe has stopped working, try again in two thousand years

I hate to say this, but he definitely detaches himself for a while until his brothers, especially Asmodeus, literally beat him into shape

He comes back to you, a little bruised and sobbing, but not from the beating he just received

He's so sorry he neglected you! He's such a horrible demon, undeserving of your welcoming nature

He's gonna be the worst dad, and he's not good enough for you, and his kid will hate him just like everyone else does, he doesn't deserve you, he's so sorry for making you suffer the side effects and feel all alone,

Sir, I-

FALSE

It's your turn to shake some sense into him, reminding him that he would be the. best. dad!!

Not to mention the fact that you were just happy he realized his mistakes and came back to you

He begs you to sleep in his bed tub with him for security, and you have to admit his tail is very comforting

Levi does extensive research on human pregnancy and now at the dinner table, instead of talking about the latest slice of life anime he'd been watching, he's just spouting random pregnancy facts and you're laughing so hard it brings you to tears

When the weird dreams and vivid nightmares happen, Levi is right behind you, rubbing your swollen tummy, and letting you talk about them

A lot of them were about him and about your future child

Most of them were about how they got hurt in some way, either that or YOU got hurt and the baby died

These, more often than not, brought you to tears and stress you out, but Levi is right there, okay? Nothing can hurt you, nor would he let anything happen to you on his watch

Learns how to massage you (safely) to reduce stress

Definitely talks to the baby a lot

Levi begged you to be induced so the birth was safe and not a sudden occasion and you agree

On the day the doctor recommended, you arrived at the hospital and got down to business

Levi didn't really want to be in the room with you, but he knew he had to for your sake and he'd played a few birth simulators from both perspectives and you really needed him

Kinda sits there awkwardly comforting you and encouraging you, holding your hand and caressing your cheeks, a bit flushed from exertion and tears

Listen

If the baby is a boy, his name will be Henry and that's final

If it's a girl, he doesn't really care, as long as you don't name her 'mammonia' or something dumb like that

definitely crashes your hospital bed to snuggle until the baby is ready

cries when the baby wraps its extremely small digits around one of his own

also at the little horns protruding from its head

and the tuft of purple in its head

Also Smitten™

He's so excited to get home and show off his beautiful baby to his brothers and then formulate a plan to raise the kid to live and breathe TSL just like his daddy <3

July 9th: VIP MEMBERS, GET YALLS JUICE!!

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jeonfiles · 3 years

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better left unsaid - jjk

genre: angst, rebounds

pairings: jungkook x reader (ft. namjoon)

warnings: arguing, alcohol, profanity, break ups, light smut, use of drugs, jungkook is a fucking dick, jungkook has major attachment issues, toxic relationships, oc cries a lot, namjoon has a heart of gold, unrequited love

synopsis: you knew you shouldnt have given him that second chance, not the third or the fourth either. no matter how much you try he always slithers his way underneath your sheets, arms wrapped around you.

word count: 2.7k

music: into your arms, so it ends?, you will fade, thinkin bout you, julia, my insecurities not yours, fuck u, goodluck, my dear i will think of you

note: uhh ive never written a y/n fic so bare with me, if u listen to the music you’ll be able to feel the story a lot more so yeah if u have time u should, not proof read

Light coming through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes when the daylight beams into your eyes, head resting on the kitchen island Looking up, you saw the clock ticking on the wall, 11:32 am.

You had stayed up till 5 am, waiting for him to come home, but seemingly, he never did. Reaching for your phone, you saw 4 missed calls from the one and only,

Jeon Jungkook, saved in your phone as “Koo <3″, Rows of messages too, all from the same contact.

Koo <3 [05:34 am]

baby pkck me up pleseee

im so wsated

Koo <3 [06.46am]

dont be mad at me jsut pick me up

i dont knw hewere the fuck i am

i love you

Koo <3 [07:31 am]

i got a rde home i’ll be home by 12

i need to talk to someone frsit

im sorry if i woke ypu dont be worried

You took a few moments to collect your thoughts, but there wasn’t much to collect. This whole thing, was a routine by now.

Standing up to make yourself a cup of coffee, you could literally not feel your own backside, you were so sore from the barstool you had been sitting on all night, and it made you groan in pain.

Two coffee cups right beside the kitchen sink, which you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up, because it was from the last time you had coffee together, which was 2 weeks ago.

The inside of the cup had a coffee crust at the top, and both your lip tint marks on the outside.

When you finish your cup of coffee while watching a bad telenovela, you go sit in your favorite chair and pull out a few books from the backpack hanging on the chair next to you, getting ready to get some studying done.

For a few seconds you imagine Jungkook hanging over your shoulder laughing at the way you write your A-s and R-s, or the way you always sign your homework at the bottom of the page.

And when you open them, there’s no one there. The only sound is from the refrigerator, making refrigerator noises.

You had met Jungkook 3 years ago, when you were at college orientation, senior year of high school. He also wanted to attend Yonsei, just like you.

And when he whispered to you about how bored he was, you couldn’t help but giggle, and then you got yelled at.

It was worth it though, because everyone was jealous of you afterwards,the Jeon Jungkook had talked to you.

Jungkook was an all-rounder as they called it; great physique, intelligent, charismatic and great at sports.

And god, he had a beautiful face, and such a filthy mouth, and it didn’t go long before you gave in to his seductive ways and slept with him. The morning after, he wasn’t in bed with you, and your heart sank.

Luckily, he was in the kitchen making you breakfast.

It was all bliss from there, showering you with love, gifts and kisses for two years, and you even ended up moving in together.

And now? You barely remember what he sounds like, smells like and is like.

A distant memory, just as distant as him.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as you heard 3 knocks on your door. The exact same way he had always knocked when he had forgotten (or lost) his keys.

And even though you should have let him suffer a little, you rushed to the door to open it, and in front of you, was your biggest nightmare.

It was your love, crying his eyes out, bleeding from one of many cuts on his face, looking nearly dead. He collapsed into your arms, and you could only utter a few words, along the lines of:

“How could you do this to us?”

As he was laying curled up in a ball on the couch, face plastered up, ice bag on his knee, wrapped up in a blanket, you realized. this was your que to cry.

So, you did. You cried in silence, sitting across the room from him. You weren’t mad at him for coming home late, or getting in another fight, probably the 5th just these past months, you had gotten used to that by now.

There was a whole other reason that made you cry.

He smelled like Victorias Secret Bombshell, you recognized the scent because it used to be your favorite, however, now you’ve moved onto something less sweet, and more elegant, like Caroline Herrera.

He smelled like someone who wasn’t you, his girlfriend.

He smelled like another girl.

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe because the Jungkook that had come home to you that morning wasn’t your Jungkook.

Your Jungkook was varsity jackets, star of the american football team (which your school was known for), selfless and humorous, and he would always take care of you.

Your Jungkook was not ungroomed hair, cigarettes and worsening grades. He was not cold and lifeless, and he would never make you cry.

Despite this, you were carding your fingers though his hair, thumb wiping away the blood on his lips while he was sound asleep as you slowly fell asleep next to him.

Maybe it was time to let him go.

Maybe.

You woke a few hours later from your phone vibrating.

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:01 pm]

Hey Y/N! Have you started working on the statistics assignment?

If you haven’t, would you be interested in meeting at the library tomorrow? You’re really smart and i’m kinda struggling ://

You [07:03 pm]

i finished it yesterday, but if you buy me coffee i’ll come help you hehe

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:04 pm]

You’re the best, I’ll bring you a machiatto!! :D

Maybe it would be nice for you to get out of the house, even though you hate the thought of it, and you would much rather just swim in your own sorrow.

But you did go out the next day, and you helped Namjoon get a decent grade, enough to pass with good margines, he thanked you by taking you out for ramen at a convenial store not too far away.

You thanked him for the ramen with a trip to the museum, and he thanked you for the museum trip with a picnic in the park at night, which led you to crying over Jungkook in his embrace, telling him every single little detail.

He made you realize it was time to let Jungkook go and make room for new people to enter your life.

You went home that night, and you found Jungkook passed out on the couch, and you could genuienly feel your chest tighten. Soft features which stood out under the moonlight glow, disheveled brown locks which hung down in his eyes.

He was gorgeous, until you saw the credit card on the table next to three bottles of soju and an empty beer can on the floor. And you knew what he had used the credit card for, though you didn’t want to say it out loud.

You cleaned everything up, and you threw the residue of the white powder right in the trash can, and you recycled his bottles and cans before finally, nudging him to wake up.

“Jungkook, wake up.” You spat coldly, or at least you attempted to.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before opening his eyes, and s huge smile on his face. “Y/N, you’re home!” He reached to kiss you, but you backed away.

“Y/N?” Jungkook questioned, he didn’t quite understand what your intentions were.

“Don’t try anything Jungkook. This was your last chance, and you fucked it up, again.” The room turned ice cold. “I’m getting you help Jungkook, you need help. And then...”

He understood what kind of help you meant, and since he had now sobered up, he agreed, nodding. “And then...?”

“And then.” Your words were ludged in your throat. “And then I’m leaving you.”

His whole face dropped, smile turned into the frowniest frown you had ever seen, and it was all silent before his lower lip starts trembling, and his eyes start turning glassy.

“It’s alright. Sorry for burdening you.” Was all he could say before tears rushed down his cheeks, and he started shaking.

So you did what you always had done, and you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on your chest as he sobbed.

“Is there anyone else?” he cried out before another wave of sobs hit him.

This exact question made your stomach hurt, and your throat burn. You really had no idea.

Or you did, but you didn’t want to.

You loved Jungkook so much, but you couldn’t be with him in this state. So you did what every rational person would do in this situation.

“Yeah.”

You lied.

“Oh ok. I don’t have the right to be mad do I?”

You shake your head no.

“I love you Y/N. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“It’s ok.” was all he said before he fell asleep in your arms again.

That night you slither your way out of his embrace and you pack your suitcase in the dark, bringing all your essentials, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Jungkook.

Packing enough for two weeks or so, you make the bed and leave your t-shirt “accidentally” in the bathroom, and you make sure all his clothes are folded, and then you sort his pencil case, throwing out old pens and worn out erasers.

You leave a grocery list on the counter, and you tuck him in good under the blankets after you took his jeans and socks off so he could sleep comfortably.

You placed his vitamins and medicine by the refrigerator so he’ll see it when he goes to grab something to eat.

Puffed up pillows, a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt and underwear is now placed neatly on his bed. Then you walk into the kitchen again, and you see Jungkook still sound asleep, sniffling a little still.

There’s one last thing, and it makes you cry. It makes you sob so loud you cover your mouth and muffle the sound you make. Sinking to the floor, your whole body is in contact with the cold tiles.

Only a year ago you could never imagine yourself even shedding a single tear over something as small as this, but here you were, on the edge of a panic attack.

Two worn out, matching couple mugs still placed by the counter. one if the first things you two had bought together, as well as the necklace hanging around your neck.

Finally, you stopped crying and started cleaning the mugs, lip trembling as you dried them and placed them in the back of the cabinet.

You unhooked your necklace and laid it down on the counter, and the biggest lump formed in your throat.

Actually, there’s a little detail you forget.

You kiss Jungkook on the forehead and leave a note on the coffee table.

“Dear Jungkook,

If you want to make this up to me (this does not mean a new chance!!) you call the number at the bottom of the page. No matter what happens, I’ll always have room for you in my heart. You even have your own little VIP lobby in there. And - if it’s urgent, call. I still care for you, and I always have. You were the best boyfriend I’ve had, but good things always come to and end, don’t they? Anyways, I’m tired so this letter fucking sucks, but deep down you know how much I love you. Remember to get groceries, shower, get fresh air and study. If I forgot something you can keep it, as long as you call the number and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll help you love. Try and get a part time job too, your student loan and your dad’s money won’t last forever. Good luck Koo. Hwaiting!!

-L/N Y/N <33″

You cringe when you think of the letter’s contents, before you roll out your suitcase out of the front door, whispering a faint “Goodnight Love.” as you close and lock the door behind you.

Standing by the elevator, you cry again. This time, louder, but you still reach for your phone and type out a text to the newly edited contact in your phone.

You [02:13 am]

coming outside now, im a crying mess and im super cold, is your car heated?

sorry for making you wait btw :((

Joonie <3 [02:13 am]

dont worry about the crying part, i’ll hold you. and yeah car is heated, so waiting here wasnt all that bad. you ready for this?

You [02:14 am]

i have no idea but i cant stay here any longer and i trust you sooo

lets start our new chapter. eh?

4 months later...

He had been good to you, great even.

You had been on expensive dates, picnics, had heart to heart conversations, and he’d been so understanding.

Today, it was your 2 month anniversary, and he had asked you on a magnificent date, which he had planned every second of.

At the end of the day, you told him how you don’t love him. He said it was alright. Namjoon loved you, so much, yet he understood you needed time.

You went to sleep that day, warm in Namjoon’s embrace, wondering how Jungkook was doing.

You felt bad, but you missed Jungkook.

You were both with someone new now, and you knew he was in good hands with someone stable enough to care for him.

Before your eyes closed shut, you shed a few quiet tears and hoped that you’d fall in love with Namjoon soon, and deep down you knew you would.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #namjoon smut #jungkook ff #bts ff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon ff #bangtan smut #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk ff

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

𖨆. 05 / all for us

summary: after the recent incident, you don’t feel a real reason to live. so why try to live?

note: this was supposed to be longer, but i loved how it ended. i’m also a suffering from headaches again. please be patient with me. also, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IVE LISTED. this is a DARK chapter.

taglist: @the-sun-baby @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @uniquepickle @ascybous @saturnalya @messyhairday-me @stupid-stinky

word count: 1.4k

warnings/notes: cursing, suicidal thoughts, self harm, attempt of suicide, dark, panic attack

YOU lay on the floor of your closet once again, the scratchy carpet being the only thing that provided you with warmth. the only person you'd seen for the past few days was erwin. anytime he'd even mention levi, you'd beg for him not to see you.

you groan quietly, deciding to go lay in your bed for a while so your skin won't keep itching. your foot chills when it touches the hardwood floor of your room, and it distracts you from the task at hand.

you're dizzy now, only being able to focus on your foot. it didn't help much since you collapsed onto your side, breathing heavily through your nose as you stare blankly to the wall. you haven't stood up for hours, opting to leave the closet only to go to the restroom.

you blink while getting back onto your feet, hand pressed against your head as if you were soothing it. you decide to go to the bathroom, if you go now that means you won't have to go later.

you watch your hands afterwards, tired eyes watching your reflection in the crystal clear mirror.

your face was bruised, you have a black eye and a deep cut on your cheek from levi's wedding band.

you look back down to your hands, wanting to focus on something else in order to soothe yourself. you don't bother to dry your hands off with a towel, opting to shaking them around in the air.

your feet drag against the floor as you jump into your bed, body smoothly sliding across it so your head rests against a pillow. you curl up under the covers, genuine warmth crashing against your body for the first time in days. it's almost overwhelming, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

you watch a movie to help pass the first hour and a half of you being outside of the closet. you play another movie for background noise, getting off of your bed and walking to the bookshelf.

you grab a black book with white font, grabbing a smaller blanket and throwing it over your lap once you sit in a chair.

you’re going to read some of this book and then retreat back to your safe space whenever they come to feed you.

even though you’re reading the story, you can barely comprehend the words along with the plot line. everything seems to be a jumbled mess inside of your mind, so much that it makes your head hurt right behind your eyes. time stretches longer than you meant for it to as you keep rereading all the sentences, hoping to gain at least a tiny bit of understanding.

you’re attention is taken away by the sound of the door opening and closing. you’d been so focused you hadn’t even noticed that someone was coming to see you. and not only was it someone, it was levi.

the book falls out of your hands and onto the floor, eyes wide as you stare at levi with fear.

he’s holding your tray of food for lunch, which you don’t think you’ll be eating today since it’s not erwin who’s going to feed you.

levi tries not to get irritated at the way your body is trembling. he hasn’t even said a single word and you’re already cowering.

when levi steps closer, you jump out of the chair and into the corner furthest from him. you cry out for erwin, for help, anyone that will be able to take levi away from you.

it startles levi for a moment, but it’s soon replaced with frustration as he makes another step.

you scream while tears gush out of your eyes, nailing planting onto the wall you’re up against. levi angrily puts the tray of food down onto your windowsill, metal and glass clinking against one another in unsynchronized harmony.

for whatever reason, it has you screeching with you dropping to the floor and cover your head with your arms. levi’s worried and goes to make a move towards you, but you’re too frightened to think.

your screeching has his head pounding, so much that he’s silently praying that erwin would just come in already.

“i’m—i’m trying to fucking help!” he barks at you, stomping his foot onto the hardwood flooring.

you jump once more, protecting yourself more than before.

levi goes to scream again, but he’s interrupted by the door to your room slamming open.

erwin’s there, half dressed and messy hair while his eyes frantically scan the area. his eyes widen at the sight of your cowering, quickly rushing over to you to sit in front of you.

“what happened,” he asks levi while cautiously pressing a hand to your knee.

“i just walked in and she just went batshit,” levi says with exasperation, confusion and anger flashing on his face.

“get out. you scare her,” he orders with furrowed brows, stroking the skin of your kneecap with his thumb.

levi scoffs but listens anyways, shutting the door behind him.

“my love, everything’s okay. it’s just us now,” he murmurs sweetly, managing to coax you out of your panicked state just a bit.

“us? j... just us,” your voice is shaky as your hand absentmindedly reaches out for erwin.

“yes, just us,” he confirms with a smile, managing to gather you in his large arms.

you continue to cry, only this time you can breathe.

“can’t be with ‘im... i’m scared,” you admit while attaching yourself to erwin, “so scared.”

shushing you, he coos, “you can, i believe in you.”

wrong choice.

“no! no! NO,” you start to trash in his arms, once again entering the almost inconsolable mind state.

since he wasn’t expecting your panicked reactions, you manage to kick him in the chest and push him away. his body bangs against the stool of your vanity, knocking it onto his side with a loud crash.

levi runs back inside, watching how you jump to your feet and over to your vanity. erwin manages to scoot further away from you, slightly unsure of your next move.

you’re sobbing uncontrollably as you slam your fast into your vanity’s mirror. it’s so clean, not a smudge on it. not even a speck of lint. it’s perfect.

the shards cut your hand, but you don’t care, too high on adrenaline. levi and erwin go to disarm you just as you manage to grasp a particularly large and sharp shard of glass.

the moment it’s in your hand, you raise your opposite wrist to the glass while screaming at the two men.

“NOT ANOTHER STEP,” you cry as you push the glass against your skin, freezing both levi and erwin, “not another fucking step or i kill myself with this shard right fucking here.”

“(name), my love, it’s alright! it’s okay! no one’s going to hurt you,” erwin barely moves an inch while he pleads, but you don’t care.

“I SAID NOT ANOTHER STEP!!” you roar while slicing the glass against your skin, blood immediately pouring from the new wound.

dark red paints the glass as your finger swipes against the blood by accident.

“get out,” you whimper, “just leave me alone to die, please.”

“we can’t do that,” levi says calmly, accidentally taking a step out of instinct.

it feels comparable to flour whenever the blade slices through your pretty skin. it burns and you know that you might end up having to get stitches from just how deep it is if you want to live. and considering you can only really get stitches from hospitals, you say your goodbyes in your head.

“if you can’t do that,” your vision is starting to grow hazy as your breath comes out ragged, “then, i’ll just kill myself right here, knife at the vein.”

this is the only way you’ll be free again. the only way you’ll be away from them. the only way you’ll probably ever get to see your friends again.

your hope has dwindled into nothing. you know you cannot get away, not in a million years. now, there’s only one way to escape. death.

and by god if you let one of them slaughter you.

and so, you slash your arm once more right against the vein. blood oozes from the wound with ease while your eyes roll back and your knees hit the floor. the last thing you see is erwin and levi running towards you with panicked looks on their faces. it almost makes you laugh.

you hope to see them in hell.

150 notes · View notes

marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Subtitles: Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] is still recovering from one of the worst migraines they’ve ever had and they have the scars to prove it… Wait. Those scars weren’t there before and they certainly weren’t from passing out on the sidewalk a few days prior!

Word count: 9,361

Warnings: Mentions of (not super graphic) death and mental illness. Also Reader being just a little horny on main, but what’s new; almost 9.5k words and they’re simping for most of them. Lots of dorky fluff and also talking about insecurities.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend

~~~

In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, voices were conversing.

“[Y/N] [L/N]…” one started.

[Y/N] [L/N]. Age twenty-five. Born to Killian and Alice [L/N] in [city, state] but Dad wasn’t in the picture. No siblings, no living relatives. They wanted to go to school for botany but Mom was diagnosed with early-onset dementia while they were still in high school, so they changed their career path to neurology in hopes of finding a way to help her. She still lives in their hometown.

“Oh, wait,” another voice chimed in, almost indistinguishable from the first, “I know this one. Oh, God.”

[Y/N] was an Honors student, at the top of all their classes. A degree in neurology with phytotoxicology on the side. They took an internship in Europe one year and somehow found themselves in Sokovia. HYDRA was still laying low at the time, caught wind of them.

“Wait,” a third voice, this one easier to differentiate from the other two. “They’re HYDRA?”

The second voice responded, “Former.”

[Y/N] had no idea what they were getting into. HYDRA, always good at hiding in the shadows; they brought [Y/N] in under the guise of an assistant job studying new forms of neural regeneration. A job that paid well enough to live comfortably and even send a little extra home, while developing something that just might solve all their mother’s problems? It was a dream come true.

Fortunately for HYDRA but unfortunately for [Y/N], they were very good at their job too. They helped HYDRA develop all kinds of nasty stuff. Nanobots that changed brain chemistry, near foolproof brainwashing tech— They even helped develop special toxins, one of the world’s deadliest poisons. All the while, thinking they were doing something good.

“How is that possible?” the original voice asked. “How could they have been so oblivious?”

“One-track mind?” the second voice offered, “Plus misinformation on HYDRA’s part and ‘routine health checks’ with something a little extra mixed in.”

“They were tested on?”

“A victim of almost everything they’d helped create, except the fatal stuff and anything that would disrupt business as usual. IVs and shots full of toxins, nanobots being released into their room while they slept.”

The third asked, “What changed?”

“Wanda.”

[Y/N] stumbled upon Wanda and her brother by pure accident. They’d been late that day and in their hurry, ran through a wrong door to where HYDRA was keeping Sokovian volunteers for testing. The twins were the youngest in their group, [Y/N] was only a couple of years older and the youngest in their division. It was a match made in heaven, really.

“Try hell,” the first voice suggested with a scoff.

The other voices offered their murmured agreements.

“So they knew each other,” the third voice said, “Before.”

That’s when [Y/N] started pulling at threads and HYDRA’s costume began to unravel; their one-track mind had switched gears. There was something too weird about the whole thing, these Sokovian civilians had stories that didn’t line up with [Y/N]’s own.

“And they believed them?”

They believed Wanda. She and her brother were just two more Sokovian citizens suffering at the hands of war and wanting to help their people. They had no reason to lie. They had more reason to be honest to [Y/N] than HYDRA ever did, actually. It was just a bonus that for Wanda and [Y/N], being around each other was like being a moth drawn to a flame.

[Y/N] may have been naive but they were far from stupid. When they figured out what was going on, they wriggled their way deeper into HYDRA’s ranks under their own disguise of loyalty. They became a full-fledged HYDRA agent, tasked with assisting in neural and poisonous weaponry. They weren’t able to protect Pietro and Wanda from testing, obviously—not that Wanda would have let them; she and her brother still believed they were being tested on for the greater good—but they did their best to stay nearby and keep the Maximoffs’ sanity intact for as long as they could. They even managed to save a couple of the other test victims by injecting them with temporary poisons that lowered their heart rate to the point of appearing dead. When the bodies were dropped off, the poison wore off not long after and some of the victims were able to escape. No side effects to be seen.

“I have a question,” Original voice said abruptly. “Why do we know this much information on one person? Like, this is some in-depth, intimate stuff. Why do we know that [Y/N] and Wanda had the hots for each other since day one?”

Second voice answered, “We’ve done extensive research on [Y/N]. The result of an investigation on the person who caused the apprehension of an entire faction of HYDRA after successfully poisoning them.”

The tests that were done on [Y/N] were not without their outcomes. They gained the ability to transform almost any matter into almost any other form.

“Huh,” Third voice hummed, “That reminds me of a series of disappearances a few years back. One house was replaced by rose bushes and another—get this—burned down because the roof had been turned to lava. Whoever it was, they either stopped on their own or died. What were they called?”

“The Alchemist,” Second stated simply, much to Third’s dismay. “And those were incognito HYDRA agents.”

After Pietro died and Wanda disappeared—not really disappeared, just left with the Avengers—[Y/N] had a choice to make. They were far too deep into HYDRA’s work now, the awful things that they had done were beginning to weigh on them, as Wanda and her brother had been just as grounding for [Y/N] as [Y/N] had been for her. After she was gone, they had a hard time dealing with the horrible business going on around them. So they did what they knew how to do; they mixed up a combination of poison and nanobots.

[Y/N] had fully committed to perishing with the rest of their coworkers but apparently, the poison hadn’t been quite strong enough. They’d made a miscalculation in a time of poor mental state and woke up the next day to hear that not all of the HYDRA agents had died either. At least the survivors had been taken in for the time being but that just wasn’t enough for them; they’d had a right to be concerned too because HYDRA had a habit of getting themselves out of sticky situations. This case was no different.

[Y/N] most likely felt responsible for having a hand in HYDRA’s dirty work, for not doing more, and they must have felt even more responsible when they learned that HYDRA was a much bigger problem than they could have ever imagined.

First blurted, “Well, what happened next?”

Second answered, “They went after agents until they got caught, the only way they knew how.”

The second miscalculation that they’d ever made got them caught. The agent put a gun to [Y/N]’s head and pulled the trigger.

“So are they dead too?” First asked. The voice seemed to quiver.

The third voice hemmed and hawed a bit before saying, “They must have, with the way all this weirdness had been going. Oh my god, poor Wanda, not one dead partner but two—”

Second spoke over the other two voices’ rambling, forcing them to calm down and listen. “They didn’t die, though, they—”

The voices started cutting out like the dream was a TV program being interfered by a poor connection and static.

“—Found by—Barely alive—Hospital—Braindead—Westview—Find a doct—”

Suddenly gunshots sounded, one followed by several more, and the darkness cracked and shattered, revealing blinding light behind it. A silhouette walked silently through the wall of light; it was Geraldine—no, Monica—poised with a gun in the outfit she helped deliver Maximoff twins in. As she walked forward, crossing from a plane of burning white to one of void black, the image of her warped and distorted until it changed. Monica, looking much more modern, in a uniform that included a bulletproof vest and a lanyard with S.W.O.R.D. printed at the top, moving carefully towards a broken and bleeding body on the ground with another in a heap behind her. The image distorted and changed again, and the first body was sitting on their knees and looking up defiant defeat. The person they were looking at was no longer Monica but a bulky figure in a dark outfit with straps in the form of an H across their chest, the body that had been laying in a battered pile behind Monica just a moment earlier. The H-adorned assailant held a still-raised gun to the kneeling person’s forehead.

[Y/N] could only spit at their feet before another gunshot sounded and the image disappeared to black.

You woke up sweating and choking on your breath. Your brain, throbbing with a pain that shot through it like a bullet, didn’t register fast enough that you were standing instead of laying down so when you flailed, you threw yourself off balance and fell forward. Catching a quick glimpse of your surroundings on your way down told you that you were somewhere outside and that it was the dead of night. You tried last minute to brace yourself for a concrete-laden impact.

You were instead greeted with soft fabric and arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Goodness, [Y/N], are you quite alright?”

You squinted at the striped sleepwear for a moment before looking up where Vision’s worried gaze and whirling irises were waiting for you; it took your eyes a moment to fully focus as the pain in your head faded but left a faint ringing behind. Then you looked around at your surroundings; not only were you outside but you were standing in Vision and Wanda’s driveway. Your gaze settled on a particular section of the house’s exterior where you vividly remembered a vaguely human shape exploding out of its walls.

You were standing in the exact same place you had been when it happened.

“[Y/N]?” Vision said again, drawing your attention back to him.

“Oh, cosmo, I’m sorry,” you said but your throat was too dry and you had to stop and clear your throat halfway through. Being in Vision’s arms, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were both in your bedwear and that yours had been sweated through. You slumped against him, partially to hide your embarrassed face but also because you felt like you hadn’t slept at all.

“Vis?”

“Yes, my favorite teacup?”

You snorted softly at that. “You don’t even drink tea.”

“Oh, I know,” Vision lilted back. Then he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I do like the patterns and the daintiness of them though.”

That time you laughed a bit. Feeling his warm breath against your scalp and his strong arms holding you safely in place against him, you almost instantly melted into the embrace. You wrapped your own arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. “What are we doing outside?”

“Ah, yes, about that. You appeared to be sleepwalking again.”

You groaned. “Again? This is a nightmare.”

One of Vision’s hands moved to run itself through your hair and down your neck. “That accident you had the other day certainly did a number on you.”

The accident. In other words, that time where you walked off in the middle of a conversation with Vision, Agnes, and Herb to mumble at a wall and then faceplant onto the sidewalk. Not only was your nose still recovering but your mind and dignity as well.

“The only time I’ve slept well since is when I fell asleep on your couch,” you whined. Then you lowered your voice and grumbled into Vision’s chest.

Vision chuckled. “What was that?”

You looked up at him and scowled. “The four of you are over here in your stupid, big, warm, cozy house. Meanwhile, I’m across the way, alone and uncomfortable, with only Bernard to keep me company. Bernard’s terrible company.”

“Truly,” Vision agreed, grinning slightly. He loved your strange, cute, not at all challenging struggles.

The both of you turned to give the lawn ornament in question a pointed look. Bernard seemed to glower back.

“Well,” Vision said as he pulled away from you a bit, “why don’t you come inside then? Wanda’s up with the babies anyway. You might as well join us, especially if it means you’ll be able to sleep better.” Not taking no for an answer, the synthezoid was already tugging you towards the lit-up porch.

You were too tired to argue and, quite frankly, you didn’t want to, so you allowed yourself to be pulled along as you admired the soft cotton of Vision’s matching pajama set.

“Oh, my.”

“What?” You looked at Vision’s face again only to catch him staring at a spot above your eyes. The porch light glinted off the gem embedded in his own. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Vision responded slowly, “but you must have done something to it. You have quite the scar.”

Your eyebrows raised. You moved away from him to look at your reflection in one of the windows and surely enough, you had a raised scar on your forehead, near your hairline. You gingerly pressed your fingers against it; it certainly wasn’t new.

A seemingly random thought popped into your head. Is that… a scar from a bullet?

“What on earth did you do to yourself?” Vision asked. Him walking up to stand directly behind you and press his hands to your neck, under the collar of your shirt no less, was more than a little distracting. “You’ve got one back here too.”

You reached back to where Vision was touching and when he removed his fingers, you could feel a similar scar at the base of your neck.

You thought again, Bullet… exit wound…?

Something about the dream you were having earlier called out to you but you couldn’t remember anything about it. When you tried to think about it further, the excruciating pain came back in waves and you had to steady yourself on the windowsill to prevent yourself from collapsing.

“Huh,” you said instead, “I have no idea.”

“They don’t hurt?” Vision questioned. “They’re not just… odd raised bruises perhaps? Welts maybe?”

“No, I don’t think so. They don’t hurt at all, though.” To make a point, you pressed down hard on the raised scar on your forehead, watched the skin turn a few shades lighter before releasing the pressure and dropping your hand again. Under the thick, stiff tissue, you barely felt the pressure at all.

Vision thoughtfully hummed, placing his hands back on the curves of your neck; you prayed to whatever deities existed that you didn’t make any sounds you’d regret.

“Well,” your partner said, “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

A pause. Your eyes stayed trained on the window’s reflection, specifically where you could see Vision’s fingers gently cupping your neck.

Then he abruptly leaned down and pressed a kiss on the scar tissue, missing a pulse point by a hair. “We should head inside then.”

You had to take a solid minute to recover from the shockwave of tingles that briefly made your veins turn into lightning. Then you shuffled after Vision into the ever so inviting house.

Stepping out of chilly darkness and into a home of cozy furniture and warm light that turned the entire place a golden brown felt like walking into another world. An extra added layer of comfort to the usually perfect home was the slight disarray of baby equipment almost everywhere that wasn’t the floor itself, most of which you had gone out and bought during the babies’ day of birth and all of which Vision and Wanda appreciated; somehow, you had prepared for the babies’ accelerated growing on a panicked whim better than the Maximoffs. Tiny baby blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about and each visible part of the house—the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen, although the kitchen was partially blocked off by a drying rack of baby clothes and swaddles of various patterns and sizes—had a designated Baby Tray. These trays, perched on whatever flat surface had been previously free of decor or clutter, held bottles, nonperishable treats, diaper-changing equipment, teething toys, a mini first aid kit for each, and other useful trinkets; the new parents had apparently completely forgotten that almost all their house’s rooms were openly attached to each other and that, if one singular Baby Tray was designated to the dining area, it would take the same amount of about five steps to get to it from either the living area or the kitchen. It was almost comedic, the number of baby care items that were laying anywhere but the floor or in proper storage because, according to Vision, god forbid something gets a speck of dust on it and have to be washed or, according to Wanda, one of the babies be without their favorite toys easily accessible at every given moment. The only thing allowed to touch the ground, aside from feet, was a playpen that now replaced the usual coffee table in the living room area and a play mat in the babies’ room with its attached toys for the twins to play with. A final touch to the hominess was the soft light that you could see streaming out of the baby room’s open door, and the gentle voice of Wanda, singing a Sokovian lullaby, fluttering out of it.

It felt like coming home.

Vision stepped away from your side to clean up somewhat, picking up a few toys and folding baby blankets and onesies to move them aside in case you wanted to make yourself comfortable on the couch. Standing inside now, you could much better make out Vision’s dark blue terry robe over a pair of bright yellow pajama pants that no doubt had a shirt to match hidden beneath dark blue fabric. The yellow of his pants matched the yellow gem that was embedded in his forehead, glittering with an unused power that you had yet to experience and that felt warm whenever you went to place a kiss on it. Poking out from the hems of his robe and pants were perfectly human hands and feet, despite their deep red color that matched the rest of his body; you found the continued presence of fingernails when not in his human disguise—absolutely unnecessary to his design, he’d pointed out when you initially asked about them—weirdly cute and continuously felt the urge to grab nail polish and paint them to match either the color of the gem or the same silver as the plating that started at his scalp and trailed down beneath the collar of his shirt. You briefly wondered how far that plating traveled across his body before mentally kicking yourself.

The greatest thing about this still-fresh reveal of Vision’s inhuman identity—aside from the fact that he was no longer hiding something important from you, obviously—was that you now knew that he wasn’t just difficult to make blush but rather he quite literally couldn’t blush. You wondered what else he could and couldn’t do, only to mentally kick yourself again.

I can’t tell if I’ve gotten worse or better since I’ve started dating them, you thought.

Oh, your brain responded on its own accord, so much worse.

Shhh!

Vision was still puttering why while you stared and inwardly argued with yourself. At this point, he’d cleaned up most of the chaos and moved the stuffed animals and now-folded blankies to sit neatly on the dining area table.

“Vis,” you said.

Before you could continue, the man perked up and looked in your direction. “Yes, duck?”

You blinked. “You make my heart go rainbow-colored. Anyway—” You broke off into a laugh when Vision went flustered, his hands flapping about while he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I win this round?”

Sometimes Vision got into the habit of ending all of his sentences around you and Wanda with a pet name. When you had first noticed this feat, you’d decided to start doing the same, just to see what would happen. He noticed and began purposely doing it back, where he had previously done it unintentionally, and now doing the occasional back-and-forth conversation that ended in pet names more than punctuation was somewhat of a competition between you two.

Vision scoffed at you, picked up a plushie, and tossed it at you. “Not fair!”

Being in the house that was beginning to feel more like home than your own, around your partners and their sweet baby boys, seemed to shield and reenergize you from the exhaustion you felt after first waking up that night. You caught the stuffed animal, a plushie of a wizard, grinned and tossed it back at him.

“Oh,” Vision chirped, catching the plush wizard again, “I see how it is.” He puffed out his chest and gave you a warning, albeit amused, glare, then picked up a couple more plushes. In a lower, sort of growling voice that made your heart leap out of your chest and into your stomach, he continued, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you shall get.”

You yelped as he started in your direction and dived across the front of the couch to get some stuffed animal ammo of your own. He nailed you in the foot with a cream-colored bunny and you returned the favor with a plushie of a witch in a red dress after taking cover behind the playpen. Now each of you was standing where the other had previously been, with you poking your head over the playpen’s sheer wall and Vision slowly pacing around the back of the couch for his second lap. You pulled the playpen with you with one hand as you moved away from him and the two of you began circling each other.

Oh, if Wanda could see her partners now.

“Oh, Wanda—” you started to stand, only to get smacked in the face with a blue teddy bear; luckily, it was of the very soft variety. You stared at Vision in disbelief.

Vision stared back, eyes bulging, unsure of whether he should apologize or prepare for an attack. He was too torn to do either, though, and had to scramble back to avoid an onslaught of stuffed bullets flying his way.

Still aware that it was very late at night, your war-cry was softened, “Revenge!”

Then your attack quickly diminished, partially because you were running out of ammo and Vision wasn’t throwing anything back and partially because Vision was now floating off the ground and heading towards you, arms full of said ammo.

Wow, didn’t know it did that, you thought randomly, eyes fixed Vision floating in general, before specifically fixating on the devilish grin he wore while doing so. He looked like a very handsome, well, vision.

A handsome Vision, if you will, your brain offered. You almost snorted before remembering you had not yet moved to avoid Vision’s floating plushie attack. You stumbled backward and scrambled out of the living room just as Vision started throwing.

“No no no no no nonononono—” You were choking between laughter and squawking as you got up and began running down the hallway to save yourself. “Not fair, not fair not fair, not fair—!”

You ran past the baby room and caught Wanda mid-turnaround, saying, “What on earth is going on out there?” You reeled back to pause in the doorway, caught a glimpse of the babies in their one large crib, smiled, went to pant out an answer—

Only to feel arms wrap around you and drag you back down the hallway. You started to shriek, then forced it into a startled laugh as to not disturb the babies, and flailed around in Vision’s arms as he lifted you off the ground. It was brief, though, because then your struggling caught Vision off balance and the two you tumbled to the ground. There, you both harmlessly pummeled each other until you both were out of breath and snickering, and you somehow ended up with his top half under you but his legs pinning down your own.

“You can fly?” you bubbled. You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks in your hands. “What the hell?”

He laughed and nodded, and one of his hands caught your own. He glanced up at you as he kissed your palm and replied, “Yes, just a little.”

“Just a little—”

“And his wife can move things with her mind, like the crib she just finished rocking to put the boys back to sleep, and if she has to do it again because of her partners’ roughhousing…”

You and Vision quickly disentangled yourselves from each other and looked up at Wanda, whose face said serious but whose eyes twinkled with amusement and who looked no less terrifying in a pale pink, puff-sleeved nightgown.

You got up and straightened your clothes, with Vision following closely behind. “I will very happily take over the next shift because I started it and I’m very sorry.”

“What? Nonsense, [Y/N], I threw the first stuffed animal.”

“I threw it back,” you pointed out.

“Neither of you better have thrown and hit something,” Wanda warned.

You glanced at Vision for confirmation; you didn’t exactly see much when you were chucking plushies aplenty and then running from your flying boyfriend.

Vision nodded. “Nothing at all, although I did make the evaluation that we do have a plethora of plushies and baby blankets.”

“I thought I was the one who pointed that out when you first gave me the shopping list, but okay,” you huffed under your breath, then grinned with Vision lightly bumped you with his hip. “So, the babies having a bad night?”

“Actually, they were apparently worried about you,” Wanda said.

That made your head do a confused tilt. “Me?”

“Ah, yes,” Vision nodded, “We fell asleep with them in the living room and Billy started crying. We woke up to figure out what was wrong and Wanda saw you standing outside.”

Wanda added, “Tommy started crying shortly after I walked to the door with him like he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Aww,” you cooed, peering over Wanda’s shoulder to see the babies. She stepped to the side so you could walk in and shuffle over to the crib, and she and Vision stood nearby as you crouched down to brush a hand over their little sleeping heads. You continued, much softer this time, “Were the boys trying to make sure I was safe? Are they my little protectors? My little superheroes?”

Tommy gurgled happily in his sleep. Billy remained quiet but his head leaned into your hand.

You looked up at their parents with big, awestruck eyes to see them leaning comfortably into each other, watching you with the same level of affection you felt for them and their babies.

“Heroes indeed,” Vision said. He walked over as you stood up again and lightly rocked the crib; Wanda strolled over to join the group. He continued to the twins in baby-talk, “But no hero-ing until after college, my little honeydews. For now, leave the protecting to your parents.”

“Especially this one,” Wanda chirped, making her way over to your side and slipping her arm around your back. “They’re a handful.”

You faked a gasp, “I’m a treasure.”

“You’re a putz,” Wanda said simply, with a smirk and a light pinch to your hip.

You gasped harder and stared at her with utter betrayal.

“A goof,” Vision chimed in. He slipped his own arm around you, the final piece of your three-person puzzle.

You gasped harder still— and almost choked on air. Then you looked to the babies. “Bullies! Bullies, both of them! Billy, Tommy, you must protect me!”

Very enthusiastically, neither baby did anything.

“I’ve been betrayed yet again,” you cried, not too loudly, though. You slumped against Vision and Wanda’s waiting arms. “Betrayed by my own brood!”

“Your brood?” Wanda questioned, quirking a brow. Vision was giggling softly at your other side.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking at her with wide, distraught eyes, “My brood. My pack. My murder.”

“Your what?” Vision said.

“It’s a group of crows,” you explained under your breath, before slumping down farther and continuing your distraught monologue. “I’m all alone! Oh, the horror—”

“Well,” Wanda said, “We’re supporting you very well a family that has completely abandoned you.”

You flopped your head back in her direction. You were so far to the ground now that you were practically on your knees, only your arms and shoulders being held by Wanda and Vision. You traced fingers lamely across each of their arms. “So strong, those who once held me…”

The married couple exchanged an amused but mysterious look.

“Wanda, darling,” Vision said, “They seem to have gone delusional.”

Wanda nodded sagely in response. “Clearly lost their mind.”

You squinted, glancing between them. What were they up to?

“To the ward with you,” Wanda suddenly announced.

Then you caught a red glow by your feet, but not fast enough before you were swept up into the air on a cloud of red mist. You burst into startled laughter but quickly slapped a hand over your mouth so you didn’t wake up the children. Once you relaxed—enough to stop laughing anyway, not enough to not be freaking out about being magically escorted out of the nursery—you waved your hands through the red; it felt like waving your hands through the open air. The only thing actually felt was the pressure on the back of your body that was holding you afloat and carrying you out of the room, but when you tried to balance on it and move to a different position, all you did was squirm and twist awkwardly in the air before flopping back down. You craned your neck, mostly to make sure Tommy and Billy hadn’t woken up from your outburst, but you only caught Wanda, hands glowing red, following you out of the room and Vision trailing after wishing his babies a goodnight.

You looked back at the ceiling for a moment. After you heard the nursery door shut, you asked at a normal volume, “I’m not gonna fall, right?”

“Not unless I let you,” Wanda reassured you. You couldn’t see her but the teasing tone of her voice made you imagine her with a smirk. A smirk, narrowed eyes, her pretty nightgown floating around her, magical powers that she could definitely use to crush you if she wanted to and you’d probably thank her if she did.

Wow, okay, I either need to confess my sins or go to sleep.

“Why?” Wanda asked suddenly.

“Why what?” you choked back, heat rushing to your face. Surely, she couldn’t read your thoughts…

“Why ask if you would fall?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started flopping around in the cloud of magic, testing the proverbial waters; you were being taken to the living area now. You heard both Wanda and her husband laughing from beneath and behind you when you settled again.

Vision asked through chuckling, “What could you possibly be doing?”

You suddenly flung yourself to one of the magic surrounding you, thinking maybe you would fall through, but the magic held. You huffed and laid back again but not before you caught a glimpse of the couch that you now hovered over. You grasped at the magic again, watching it wisp through your fingers but feeling nothing at all. “This is so cool.”

Wanda’s voice was softer when she spoke this time. “You think?”

You couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laughter that bubbled up. Suddenly breathless out of sheer excitement of learning more about the people you cared for most, you sighed, “Wanda, baby, you must know that you’re amazing.”

Then you squawked as the magic suddenly disappeared around you, but instead of falling straight to the couch below, Vision flew up to catch you. He held you bridal style as he gently dropped back to his feet next to the couch, grinning—he very rarely just smiled, it was always a big, happy grin when it was directed at you or Wanda or the babies—and giving you a peck on the forehead when you stared up at him, doe-eyed.

“Got my own Superman, too,” you said, “Damn.”

Vision plopped you down on the couch. “Who?”

“Comic book character,” you responded with a wave of your hand, “Doesn’t matter. You’re far better looking than him anyway.”

You shifted a bit to get more comfortable and watched as glowing red magic started swirling all around you. The magic was misty, red around the edges and glowing orange-white in the center, picking up the scattered toys from your and Vision’s scuffle and tossing them into the playpen, pulling said playpen out of the way and sliding the original coffee table back from its place against the wall, picking up any other stray blankets or baby items and placing them neatly out of the way; it also straightened out Vision’s robe and ruffled your hair. Part of the magic moved out of your line of vision, so you twisted to follow it and saw it taking the baby clothes off the drying rack to fold and put on the counter next to it, then continued watching as it folded the rack itself and moved it out of the way.

Wanda was now in your sight again too; she was standing still, palms up with magic flowing outward from the red clouds around them, and looking around to see if there was anything else she needed to put away. She was also blushing, from you calling her baby or saying she’s amazing, you couldn’t tell. After staring for probably way too long, probably looking at her with the same starry-eyed, dopey look that a teenager had at their first concert or after a first kiss, her gaze flitted to yours and made a nose-scrunching face at you before finishing her magical cleanup and making her way over to the couch as well.

You slumped back in the pile of throw pillows behind you, covered your face with your hands, and flutter-kicked your feet few times. “This is so cool!”

You felt a nudge at your feet and you raised your legs so he could sit, then did the same with your head when you felt Wanda’s hand brush across your forehead. When they were both seated, you laid your legs and head on their respective laps and the three of you settled into the comfortable position that had been adopted long after your relationship had started.

That is until you quickly sat up again. “Is that how you unpacked your house so quickly?”

Wanda smiled and nodded. She rested a cheek in the palm of her hand, endeared by your wonderment towards her powers.

“Is that you unpacked my house?”

Another nod.

“And the magic show was real— Wait.” You scowled. “But all the pulleys and stuff.”

“That was, ah, my bad,” Vision offered with a raised hand.

“Covering for him actually using his powers,” Wanda explained.

“I knew the mirrors didn’t make sense with you putting your hat through your body!” you exclaimed. “So flight, super strong, and… not sure what to call that last one. What was with you that day, by the way? You acted drunk, but you can’t get drunk!”

“I swallowed some gum,” Vision muttered, glancing away and rubbing the side of his neck. His other hand waved towards his torso as he continued, “It got all… stuck. Gummed up my gears, if you will.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the pun. You snickered at it.

“I had to magic it out of him,” she added.

Your gaze flitted back and forth between your two superhuman partners multiple times as you took in the information. Because you were sitting between the two, this involved the turning of your head various times, which made your head swim a bit. You almost wished that they were both sitting to one side of you.

Instead of suggesting this, you settled your gaze to stare aimlessly ahead and said simply, “I’m dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar people in the world. How the hell did I manage that?”

“Charisma,” Vision offered, even though you and him both knew at this point how you’d weirdly creeped on him at the office the first day the two of you met.

“Sheer force of will,” Wanda suggested, but you guaranteed she was remembering how, for the few dates you went on with them, you’d had to be reminded that you were actually on dates and that they weren’t just casual friendly hangouts.

You looked between them once more and then you wished you had suggested they sit to one side of you. Despite their steady, comfortable voices, Wanda was in the process of hiding her flustered face behind the curtain of her hair and Vision was chewing on his lip and couldn’t seem to keep his hands and feet from tapping away.

“Okay,” you said after a moment, patting your thighs to do something with your hands. “I’m grasping that you guys don’t agree with me here. Wanda, go sit by him so I don’t get whiplash from trying to look at you both.”

You and Wanda quickly switched places. You sat cross-legged on the couch to face them and Wanda and Vision shifted around to sit in a way that allowed them to face you without one blocking the other. After a moment, you waved your hands at them; the cheery air has since faded into something more somber. “What is it? Tell me why you get all quiet like that when I tell you, with evidence, why you’re the actual grooviest people I’ve ever met.”

There were a few more moments of silence before Vision went to speak first, which surprised Wanda. She looked at him, eyebrows raised high on her forehead, and lightly grasped his wrist.

“Vis?” she murmured.

He sighed softly and placed his other hand over hers. “Oh, it’s really nothing dear, I promise. It’s just… Well, you’ve heard how the people of the cul-de-sac talk about us sometimes.”

“Mean girls,” you grumbled under your breath with a nod, “the lot of them sometimes.”

Wanda seemed to suddenly sag with sadness and both you and Vision reached over quickly to hold her.

“Oh, darling,” Vision said, “It’s not your fault—”

“That’s not true,” Wanda whispered.

“It is true,” Vision said, and this time he said it with a fierceness that was familiar to you, whenever Wanda was being treated poorly by people like the Queen of the Cul-de-Sac, Dotty, or when Wanda decided to get down on herself. He grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezed them until she looked up at him. “Wanda, darling, love, I didn’t exist before I meant you. I mean, I did, of course, I did, but I was just this strange, non-human, non-machine thing that was just… kind of… there. It was you that gave me an existence, Wanda. You made me human.”

Both you and Wanda stared at him, surprised. Wanda stared because she obviously didn’t fully agree with his opinion of her. You stared because of course, you were dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar, and most romantic people ever.

Get yourself a man like that, you thought. Then after a moment, Wait, that is in fact also my man.

“And you—” Vision said, turning his head in your direction.

“Oh, I’m next?” you stammered. “I thought it was Wanda’s turn.”

Vision still held Wanda but also reached over to tightly grasp your hand and bring it to his mouth. “I just wished we could have confessed to you sooner. I just hate, hate, hated lying to you and now you’re involved with all this too—”

The synthezoid with the English accent looked up at you with eyes begging forgiveness as if he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. You let out a hoarse laugh and ran your thumb across the side of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still chuckling as you wriggled closer to your couple, “but as much as you might like to think you’ve subjected me to something I didn’t sign up for, I’d like to point out that I’ve been about a month ahead of you. I was here before you.” You felt a nagging urge to look at Wanda and repeat the last sentence, and there was something extra special about saying it that second time like there was a double and then a triple meaning behind it, but the way you both furrowed your brows afterward made it clear that neither of you really knew what those meanings were.

Not yet, anyway.

You cleared your throat and removed your hand from Vision’s grasp to place it on the back of the couch. “I moved into this town with no husband or wife, no family, nothing but a pile of letters and a new deed to a new house that happened to be the smallest in the neighborhood. My first week here I told one man in front of the entire night watch that I thought the joke he made about his wife was distasteful, and then the week after I tripped and spilled wine all over his wife. Agnes brought because she thought I’d be a form of entertainment and we somehow ended up becoming friends over a flask that she hid in a pocket sewed into the inside of her skirt.” You offered a look to Wanda again while you mentioned that Agnes never thought your “for the children” jokes were all that funny, though. “I’ve dealt with the comments and the rumors and the ‘what’s wrong with them, they don’t have no kids!’ People are weird and they’re mean and they’re fun and they suck. You want human, dude? You got it. If I was still bothered by comments that are nothing but a bummer, I think I’d be trying a little bit more than wearing clothes that I enjoy over the clothes that are expected of me, telling Dotty she needs to stop being awful before she gets frown lines, or, you know, pining over two people—a married couple nonetheless—until I somehow seduced them with my staring at them from around corners and just generally horrible, awful attempts at eye contact.”

The married couple in question chortled at that.

You used your hand on the back of the couch to hoist yourself up on your knees so you towered over Vision just slightly.

“Here’s the thing, sunshine,” you continued, “I’m not in your boat on this one, you dorks, you’re in mine. I was here first and I don’t give a fuck.”

Wanda gave a sudden laugh. “What language.”

“Has he not told you about the time I said ‘Fuck you’ to a plastic bird in my garden?” you asked. “Multiple times? His name is Bernard and he’s plotting to kill me, I swear.”

Wanda’s troubled expression was split by a wobbly smile.

You threw up your arms in the dramatic fashion that you knew the two people in front of you loved and hollered—then quickly quieted back down to not disturb Billy and Tommy in the other room—“All this for my rambling putz ass to say, who cares about what’s outside this house! You two, and your kids, and I are the only people that matter here. Here being the house, Westview, whatever! Everyone else? Nonexistent.

“Also, just to clarify,” you paused to wave your arms around, gesturing at the entire house, “Love it here. Love this shit.”

You suddenly caught Vision’s slacked jaw in your hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “This face? Love it.” You moved to peck a spot of silver on his skull. “Love this too.” You pecked the gem on his forehead and swore it glowed brighter in response. “Love this.” You pecked one of his ear plates. “Love these goofy things.” You pecked the tip of his nose. “Love this and the fact that you have it even though you don’t technically even need to breathe. Oh, speaking of which!”

You lifted one of his hands with one of your own and tapped on his red fingernails with your other. You caught a glimpse of his face now that yours wasn’t directly in front of it and noticed him trying to hold back a giddy smile—and failing—while he watched you from underneath red lashes; your whole body would have tried to twist itself in knots under that look if you weren’t too busy swearing to kiss those eyelids and lashes too, at another time. Instead, you pecked each fingertip of the hand you were holding. “Love these ‘useless to my design’ things too. You know what, just speaking of hands—” You dropped Vision’s hand, which made itself to your waist as you went to grab Wanda’s; you were vaguely aware that you were practically leaning into their laps at that point but that could be dealt with when you weren’t trying to make a point.

When you went to touch her, she let you hold her wrist but quickly squeezed her hand into firsts before you could hold it like you had with Vision’s. She was looking away.

You pressed a kiss to her whitening knuckles. “Wanda.”

She looked at you, her perfect face distorted by a deep sadness that almost shattered your heart on the spot. She tightened her first further. The deep emotion appeared to make her slip back into her natural Sokovian accent when she spoke again. “You don’t know the pain it’s caused.”

“I’ve done my fair share,” you affirmed even though you weren’t quite sure why. Then you kissed her knuckles again. “And maybe I don’t, but I know what good it’s caused, that you have.”

Her face twisted into an ugly grimace. She asked hoarsely, “Like what?”

“The first time I saw your face, I wanted to go to space, grab the moon, shrink it down—so it looked like one of those cool little lava rocks, you know? But prettier—and get it put on a ring,” you offered, then kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “and that’s after I found out you were married to a very attractive man too…”

Vision snorted. Wanda cracked the smallest of smiles.

You whispered lower, “And I may or may not have even been interested in marriage before that…”

That time Wanda rolled her eyes; you smiled and grabbed her other clenched hand to share the attention with. You continued, “You’re also so nice, like so nice. You are so kind and care about what people think so much, it’s almost buggy—and bordering on self-destructive but that’s not what we’re talking about— And I sort of get it now, you know, but wow, making your magic show worse for the sake of people’s sanity? Wouldn’t even be on my radar.”

Another little smile.

“I’d be like, ‘Who wants to see me turn this entire table into a rosebush! Dotty’s rosebush specifically; Dotty, I stole your rosebush.’ I actually did steal a rose from her bush that day.”

Wanda blinked and you noticed the lines of her expression weren’t as deeply etched into her face anymore.

“That was Dotty’s?”

You grinned and nodded, then kissed both of her hands. “Also, I love your hair and the way it perfectly frames your perfect face, and I love your little nose scrunches, and I love your eyelashes and the way you look at me from under them sometimes, and I’d kiss all those things but I’m not going to because I gotta get these stubborn, always-working, never-wanna-take-a-break, always-somehow-perfect-nails-having hands to relax before they hurt themselves even though it’s very clearly hard enough to make who woman who owns them do the same. Oh, I did I mention that smile—hoo, Wanda, that foxy smile…”

Wanda was blushing now and bringing up her smile made it happen again, just slightly. You took advantage of the moment anyway and flung yourself back onto the couch with a hand over your heart. “Be still, my pounding heart!”

Vision, who was watching by your and Wanda’s sides, laughed a bit. Wanda herself rolled her eyes again; the smile didn’t disappear afterward.

You sat up again and pointed at Vision, now that he’d brought attention to himself again. “And I don’t know whether you heard any of the stuff this guy said! You made him exist? You made him human? What? You two also do this thing where you just look at each other and have a whole conversation, I don’t know if you guys know you do that or not. You do, though, and I don’t know if either or both of you are psychic but if you are and still love me? With my unhinged brain? Migraines and all? I wouldn’t understand, even if you explained it to me.”

Vision offered, “Neither of us is psychic but anyway, please continue.”

“Have anything to add?”

“You’re doing wonderfully.”

“Thank you.” You looked back and Wanda, noting that her face had almost completely softened now, as she was too busy being flustered to be sad at this point. You quickly scooped her hands before they could curl into fists again placed kissed on each of the crescent moon-shaped marks now dug into their palms. “Your magic rocked your babies to sleep. Your magic cleaned up all their and put it all in one nice, neat place. You floated me around the house with your magic and even protected me from falling when I was wriggling around up there; bet that was fun for both of you to watch. Vision said earlier that that was your job, to protect me, and while I don’t fully agree because I consider it the other way around, is that not what you did?”

“I thought it was cute,” Wanda replied softly to the second to last sentence you said. She watched as you gave her hands a few more pecks.

“So, you agree then,” you said, “that your magic protected me and also made me cuter?”

She laughed and the sound made your heart soared, performing an aerial performance in your chest. She tried to wriggle her hands free from you but then you scowled and tucked them protectively under your chin.

“Gotta say it. Gotta say your magic made me cute.”

“I’m not saying that.”

You shrugged and got comfy, laying your head in her lap with her hands still hidden. “Have to. Otherwise, no hands for you. Oh, did I not mention how good you are to your kids yet? You’re so good—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Wanda forfeited through a wet laugh. Hearing said laugh, your head shot up in concern, but the woman was smiling as she snagged your hands back; what she chose to do with them next was grab your face and place a kiss directly on your mouth.

It was quick and soft and sweet and absolutely none of that prevented the fireworks that went off in your skull and your chest and your stomach and your veins that made tingles shoot all the way down to your toes. She pulled away as quickly as she had moved in and you blinked; your brain was still short-circuiting, like a robot—like a Vision with his gears all gummed up, and your dazed brain thought that was a very funny connection, so it repeated the joke verbally.

Luckily, Vision was close enough to the level of dork that you were and he laughed at it with you.

It took a deep breath and a head shake to de-gum your brain—if only Wanda could magic that—but after the excitement wore off, you felt sleepiness start creeping in and decided to make your final push. You curled a hand around both of your partners’ necks and brought their faces closer to nuzzle your noses together; they responded by each of them wrapping an arm around your waist and returning the affectionate action.

“So, in conclusion,” you stated, which caused Vision to laugh lightly and Wanda to grin just slightly, “I love both of these perfect faces.” You kissed each of their noses. “And these funky, magical brains.” You kissed Wanda at the base of her hairline, then Vision just below his forehead gem. “And these equally funky, magical hands.” You grabbed the hands not looped around your waist and kissed the back of them. “And both of those babies, and this house, and y—”

You sucked in a sudden breath to stop yourself so hard that you almost choked and you reeled back to the other side of the couch only to drag Vision and Wanda with you. The three of you tumbled into a flustered heap on the couch and over their shoulders, you could see early morning light filtering through the windows. This barely registered, though, as you were too busy focusing on the fact that you almost L-worded them on a silly, tired whim.

Despite the awkwardness of the moment and the unspoken words, no one made a move to remove themselves from the warm, cozy entanglement. One of both Wanda and Vision’s arms was pinned under your back, keeping them solid in place against you while simultaneously and successfully enveloping you in between them; your own arms, which had instinctively wrapped protectively around their shoulders in the tumble, kept them in a similar state. Wanda’s hair fanned found and covered the three of you like a blanket, and you were keenly aware of her breath softly wafting over the exposed skin of your neck from where her head now rested on your shoulder. Vision’s rested slightly lower, on your chest, and you felt a quickened pulse where his gem pressed into your neck, but you couldn’t be sure whether it was yours or his.

You stared past their shoulders and watched as sunlight shone through the curtains and dappled the ceiling. You tried to figure out whether you were stupider for stopping yourself from finishing that sentence or for not saying it at all.

Then you felt a kiss being pressed to your clothed shoulder.

“You’ve said so many things that you’ve loved tonight [Y/N],” Wanda murmured, her hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “What’s two more?”

“I—” you started, then bit your tongue again. There was something about saying that phrase that made you worried; you felt like if you said it now, the happy little world you lived in would begin to crumble, like it would all end far too soon. You sighed softly and said instead, “I don’t know how I would live without you.”

There were a few moments of silence where you watched more sunlight filter in and wished you could take it back because what a way to talk a big game and then not follow through—

Then Vision’s head appeared above you and he pressed a dizziness-inducing kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he nuzzled your nose with his own as he murmured, “I love you too.”

In almost the same moment, Wanda was mumbling the same phrase against your jawline.

Sleepy and hazy-brained you couldn’t do much else but stare at Vision like a lovesick puppy that struggled to say that L-word, then snuggle back down with both him and Wanda when they relaxed against you again. That seemed to be the last of what needed to be said, though, because everything was cozy and warm and golden brown in your home again and, one by one, the three of you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, you heard the vaguely familiar First Voice finish chewing something and then go, “Aww…”

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years

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↳ ❝burn❞ dabi x fem!reader → part III

summary: touya todoroki, your childhood friend was dead or so you thought. trying to dig deep you find dabi at a local bar known for being a villain hangout. word count: 1.8k tags/warnings: flashback, bar setting a/n: now we’re getting somewhere, hope you guys enjoy!

masterlist

part II part III part IV

It didn’t take long for you to realize that things weren’t okay at home for Touya. You were a smart kid, observant. You didn’t miss how tired he looked, the bags under his eyes. The bruises that covered his skin, the burns. Whenever you asked him he would just brush it off and say he fell or hurt himself with his quirk again.

There were only so many times you could believe that. Eventually, he opened up about it. He trusted you more than anyone but he carried an amount of shame at the truth of what happened at home. His father trained him, harder than a child should ever have to train. Even when Fuyumi and Natsuo were born and got their quirks he continued to train Touya because he was still the best bet at becoming a hero out of all of them despite his quirks drawbacks.

There were many nights Touya would go to your house, climbing in your window. You would play video games, watch movies, or sometimes fall asleep beside each other. Anything that you could do to distract or give him shelter from what he faced at home.

It was only when Shoto got his quirk that Enji Todoroki gave up on Touya. It was the first year of UA. You remember him tapping at your window, tears in his eyes. He never cried, it hurt to see him cry more than you could ever describe.

It was complicated, in a way he was free from his father’s torment but at the same time, he felt so abandoned. The training and suffering he went through all for nothing. His own father didn’t believe he could be a good hero.

That night you found Touya at your window. Letting him in he explained what had happened before breaking down.

You took him in your arms and held him close as he let out all of the emotions he had stored up for years. The music you had playing softly a background to his quiet sobs. You pressed a kiss against the crown of his red hair, holding back the blooming feelings you had for him.

As he eventually calmed down, he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low and raspy from crying.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, you know I’m always here for you.” You said, brushing your hands through his hair.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He whispered.

“Me neither.” You said giving him a soft smile before hugging him closer.

There was nothing harder than watching Touya and what he went through during all the years you knew him and not being able to do anything about it.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to look into something that the hero commission seemed to want to look the other way on but you were always one to get into things you shouldn’t. It wasn’t like you had a high rank you’d be at risk of losing, the worst they could do was take away your hero license and they were dumb if they thought you wouldn’t become a vigilante.

It was a dangerous game. You had two options, tail Hawks, and see what he was up to on a normal day. Hawks was far faster than you which would leave you struggling to keep up not to mention he had keen senses that would probably pick up on you quickly. The other option was to follow Dabi from the League of Villains, finding him wouldn’t be easy and the likelihood of him trying to kill you if he caught on was high.

Neither option was good but if you didn’t do something it would bother you. You had to get to the bottom of this.

Villains could be predictable, they had spots they liked to hang out in or make deals at. You dressed in civilian clothes, put a wig on, and did what you could to look different from your usual appearance. Waiting till night time you went to a bar that was a hot spot for villains. It was hard but you could repress the rain that followed you these days. It would take a lot of energy but it was possible and would help your cover.

Entering the bar you were hit by a cloud of smoke and the sound of music playing, the bass rumbling through the floor. This was the last place anyone wanted to be if they weren’t looking to get in trouble. Walking in you recognized a few villains right away. You carefully scanned the room as you made your way to the bar.

Ordering a whiskey neat you made your way to an empty corner of the bar, making sure to keep you back to the wall and your eyes on the entrance. You made note of the exits of the building.

Time passed and you waited, sipping your drink slowly and watching your surroundings. Some people glanced over at you but didn’t bother you. If you acted like you belonged somewhere people usually didn’t question that confidence.

The door opened and finally, you caught sight of the man you were looking for. Dabi walked in, you watched as other villains looked nervous at the sight of him. From what you had heard he was dangerous and quick to act if he felt the need to. No doubt people had learned not to mess with him here.

For a moment his gaze scanned the room pausing at the sight of you in the corner. He looked you up and down before walking to the bar, sitting down there. You watched him carefully as he ordered a drink and started sipping on it. You weren’t sure what exactly you were looking for, you doubted Hawks would show his face here and you didn’t think talking to him was the best idea.

At the same time if you missed your chance to get information from him now you might not get another chance. You could tail him home but if he caught on it would be bad, worse if you ended up at the league’s hideout.

After mulling it over you decided you should take the chance. If worse came to worse you knew you could escape if things got violent here. Standing up you made your way to the bar, placing your empty glass down before waving the bartender over for another one.

Dabi was next to you but you didn’t look over hoping to get his interest by seeming indifferent. You could feel his gaze on you.

“What brings someone like you to a dark place like this?” His raspy voice cut through the music of the bar. You looked over slowly smirking at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased.

Seeing him this close up it was odd. You took in the dark patches of skin that covered his face, the staples connecting them to his unmarred skin. His eyes, the striking blue eyes felt familiar.

“Dabi, you bastard.” A man stepped up to his other side grabbing his shoulder roughly. The drunk man looked angry.

“Shove off.” He growled at the man before standing up pushing him back.

“Take it outside!” The bartender shouted at them.

“Gladly,” Dabi said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. He grabbed onto the man by the back of his shirt. “Sorry, doll. Another time.”

You stood there shocked by what happened. You had been so close to having a conversation with him before that man had interrupted. You let out a huff finishing off your drink. You waited a moment before following them out. You wanted to see what was going on.

Turning around the corner into the alley you could hear the commotion of Dabi and the man fighting. What you didn’t expect was the gas that had filled the small area. It must have been from the man’s quirk. You stopped breathing, hoping to stop whatever effects it might have but you were too late. You already felt woozy, your vision fading.

Blue flames filled the alley, the heat intense against your skin but not hurting you. You collapsed to the ground, falling onto your hands and knees. As everything faded to black you saw one last thing. The figure of Dabi approached you slowly, intimidating as he drew closer.

“You never could stay out of trouble, huh?” His voice sounded fuzzy, you could barely make out his words before your head hit the ground.

The breeze was soft a cool, moving through the petals of the cherry blossom tree above you. You laid across the soft grass, Touya next to you. You looked overtaking in his features as he watched the tree sway above the two of you. You smiled at how peaceful he looked.

“What are you smiling at, raindrop?” He said looking over with a teasing look.

“Trying to figure it out.” You teased. Touya let out a short laugh.

“Very creative.” He said. In one quick moment, he was over you, leaning down, his nose almost against yours. “If I didn’t know better I would say you were admiring me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know what you're talking about.” You said cheekily.

“Really?” He said leaning in closer, pressing his forehead against yours, almost brushing his lips against yours. “Then I guess you don’t want a kiss.” He said before laying back down at your side.

“Wait,” You said in a huff, pouting as you rolled to your side, leaning over him. You leaned down for a kiss but he turned his head.

“Nope.” He said as you tried again only to be dodged once again.

“Touya.” You whined. “Fine, I was admiring your handsome looks. Are you happy.”

“Yes.” He said with a smirk, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you on top of him. His lips finally met yours, softly. You smiled against him, content.

Sighing, you rest your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and taking in his comforting scent. Your eyes drifted closed, sleepy from how relaxed you were.

“Go to sleep, raindrop. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.” He said, his hand brushing up and down your back helping you fall to sleep even more.

You woke with a gasp, your lungs burning. Looking around you expected to be in the alley or somewhere worse but you were in your home. In your bed.

Had there been a hero nearby? Or perhaps one undercover at the bar that saw you hurt? Why hadn’t they left a note or taken you to the hospital?

You laid back down, exhausted still. Too tired to wonder what happened. You could figure that out later.

Your mind drifted back to your dream. It made your heartache it was so real. You could feel his arms around you, his lips against yours. Tears welled in your eyes. You never had the chance to kiss Touya, never had the chance to tell him how you felt and that would haunt you till the end of your days.

taglist(message to be added or taken out): @flowersgirl02 @wesparklebitch @moon-write @strangely-charmed @ibookishqueen @tomomoni @why-so-red

#dabi x reader #dabi #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki #x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #my writing #burn

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romiithebirdie · 3 years

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Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 3

"Never fear, for I am here!"

That was the cheerful catchphrase of the children's television icon, All Might. When anything bad happened, All Might would arrive and save the day. He always won with a bright beam worn proudly across his face, radiating pure joy not only in the show but for children all over the nation who tuned in to watch him.

But for Toshinori Yagi it was a part of his past that he'd rather move on from. Living in solitude as a wealthy retired actor with only a few friends and family members made it difficult for him to genuinely smile nowadays.

Something he could still not grasp to this day;

He had everything.

Money, fame, properties and adoring fans all around the world.

Yet, his heart felt so hollow. Like somebody had reached in and torn in from his chest, discarding it like the useless piece of flesh it was.

If you asked him, he'd be surprised if he even still had a heart under his paper-thin skin.

During the last few years of his starring role as the smiling superhero, he had been involved in a major car collision that damaged his internal organs beyond repair. After months of surgeries and other frequent visits to the hospital, he had retired due to his declining health.

His adoptive father-figure Sorahiko Torino always made it a habit to visit frequently, though Toshinori himself preferred to stay in isolation. Far, far away from the prying eyes of his stern and no-nonsense father and his constant lectures about bad habits and whatnot.

Though he knew it was deeply childish, Toshinori still felt a rebellious thrill from aggravating Sorahiko just as he had done in his youth.

While Torino had always been known for his grumpy attitude, he took up to eleven after the incident involving his closest friend, Nana Shimura. Like Sorahiko, she had worked as a high-ranking member of the Police Force and had taken a squad to raid the hideout of a dangerous wanted criminal.

The notorious A.F.O killer.

He had been given that name due to the fact that all of his victims had the three initials carved into parts of their bodies.

However, it hadn't gone as planned and the entire building went up in flames. The majority of the squad had escaped with minor injuries, but Nana inhaled far too much smoke during her attempts at fleeing to safety which caused her to fall unconscious. Several hours later, she had passed away in the ER department.

It was a massive shock to everybody. Nobody could have seen it coming.

The criminal's body was never found or recovered, the authorities eventually pegging it down to have burned into nothing during the inferno due to the fact nobody had come forward with grievous burns in any of the hospitals in Japan.

A fitting way to end the life of such a cruel and evil man. Scorched into a smudge on the ground, leaving nothing but joy to the civilians who had feared for their lives during his spree.

While many would call it a horrifying end, Toshinori called it justice.

Losing Nana was truly a tragedy and both Toshinori and Sorahiko suffered badly with mourning the kind woman's death. While Sorahiko took to his study and spent many days and nights alone, Toshinori's behaviour grew more challenging and he had started fighting at school and in public.

He wasn't a bad kid.

He just hadn't known how to deal with his own grief. It made him feel hollow inside, like his heart was devoid of anything.

Nana Shimura was like a secondary parental figure to Toshinori. She would watch movies with him, take him and Torino out for long drives in the city and countryside while always proudly wearing a smile on her face.

The television hero All Might's constant beam was a complete homage to Shimura in every way.

If only she had been around to see him in his hayday…

Would she still be proud of him now?

Knowing how far he'd fallen.

Turning to drinking and not taking care of his health properly… Every time he'd cough up the coppery taste of blood from the back of his throat, he truly felt as if the Grim Reaper himself was slowly approaching, waiting for his final breath before tearing his soul and taking his spirit to the afterlife.

No. What he'd thought about Nana...

That wasn't true.

Nana would have never judged him. Back then and even now.

She was kind-hearted and had so much empathy, especially for somebody who worked in the field that she did. It was something Toshinori truly admired about the woman, other than her fierce passion for her work.

Glancing at the IV cord that was attached to his arm, he let out a deep sigh before heaving himself from his own hospital bed and beginning to hobble out of his private room. A coffee from the café downstairs sounded pretty good right about now…

Whisky would have been better but beggars couldn't be choosers.

.-.-.-.-.

Izuku rushed through the hospital entrance, clutching the leather straps of his backpack as his crimson shoes squeaked along the polished floor. He'd been given the brief details of what had happened at his apartment by the police officers after his mother had been taken away in an ambulance.

The kind officers had then given the teen a ride to the hospital where they had accompanied Izuku with getting the name of the ward where his mother had been taken. After giving a quick bow of thanks, Izuku had shot across the car park and towards the building at lightning fast speed.

From the looks of the ward names, it seemed his mother was on one of the higher floors so Izuku decided to take the elevator up; only to almost crash into a tall, blond haired man holding a steaming paper cup who was also waiting for the elevator doors to open.

"I'm so sorry!" the boy yelped, ducking his head while the blond chuckled, fondly shaking his head at the teen. Izuku noted the IV drip and was stricken with more guilt, so much so that he ignored an unpleasant feeling wash over him while being in close range of the stranger.

You nearly knocked a patient over, you complete idiot.

Ding!

As sweet as mercy, the elevator doors opened and the two entered with Izuku allowing the older man to go in first out of respect. It was the least he could do after almost barrelling into him.

"Why thank you, young man," Toshinori smiled, taking a sip of his coffee while watching Izuku fidget around the elevator buttons. He chose to step in, "I'm going to the fifth floor, my boy."

"Ah, that's great, I'm going up to the ninth."

Izuku pressed the buttons and stepped back, feeling the weight of the floor lift underneath his feet. For a few awkward seconds, nobody said a word until a familiar, unwanted chill blew into the boy's face.

He knew it all too well.

They wanted to communicate with him again.

The tiny space of the elevator only did more to trigger an overwhelming feeling of utter claustrophobia, it felt like the silver reflective walls were closing in on him. Izuku suddenly wanted nothing more than to shrink into himself and cower away with his face covered.

Please go away.

Izuku's desperate emeralds met with Toshinori's dull blue, the two immediately connected as the teen bit back a choked gasp that he tried to fight. Foggy imagery immediately began taking over his senses as the familiar raven-haired lady held onto the blond's shoulders like she was embracing him.

No, no, no.

Izuku was seeing them once again, just like all the other times.

Usually he'd see them in short-timed wisps like the smoke of a dead candle flame. A few whispers in his ears and cold spots but nothing as humanoid as what he was seeing now.

He immediately reached for his bag and fumbled around for the zipper, shakily trying to fight against the fabric trapping his zip in the same position. Upon ripping it open, not caring whether or not he'd broken the lining, he began frantically raking through the contents inside.

Where was that damned medication?!

Various whispers combined into one ghostly chorus entered his ears, making them ring like a loud case of tinnitus as he stepped back, trying to compose himself.

"Tell him. Please. Tell him."

"Please," Izuku pleaded as he squirmed, hand darting out and snatching the blond stranger's striped pyjama sleeve. They wouldn't leave until he did what they asked, "She says she's proud. N-never think otherwise."

Toshinori's mind screeched to a complete halt as he whirled around completely on the teen holding onto him, "What?" he spluttered, not quite sure he'd heard what had just come out of the kid's mouth properly. Surely he'd misheard?

"She's proud," Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, as if speaking the words pained him. "Nana says she'll always be proud of you."

Toshinori turned his head around so fast, Izuku's own neck ached at the sight.

Finally, he spoke; "How do you know Nana?"

"I don't," Izuku wavered, glancing at the ghostly hands clutching the thin fabric covering Toshinori's shoulders. "But she said you knows you."

Knows? The older male frowned, unsure of what that even meant.

"Let me rephrase," Toshinori's grip on his IV tightened, a small wave of nausea threatening his weak body as he tried to steady himself. "How could you know something like that?"

The words that had come out of the kid's mouth were enough for him to pray for the doors to open;

"Because she's standing behind you and telling me what to say."

As if by magic, the elevator doors opened and allowed the blond to shuffle out of the small space at the fasted speed he could. In silence, Toshinori dragged his IV along with him while keeping his gaze fixed on the boy.

As the doors began to close, he finally chose to speak again suddenly finding his voice, though it was barely coherent;

"What's your name, kid?"

"Izuku," the greenette answered immediately, "Izuku Midoriya."

"Toshinori Yagi," the blond responded, just as the twin doors shut and cut off their sight of one another.

Toshinori set his cup down and covered his mouth, muffled exhales echoing down the empty corridor as he attempted to compose himself.

Did that really just happen?

.-.-.-.-.

"Mum!"

Previous issues with his unwelcome undead buddies immediately dropped the moment he saw her. The teen dropped everything and launched himself forward, sliding to a halt beside his eerily still mother. The heart monitor beeped slowly, duetting with Inko's raspy gasps for air from her oxygen mask.

"Izuku?" Inko croaked, her face ghostly pale as she shakily attempted to lift her head from the pillows supporting her. Izuku immediately grabbed her hand tightly, fearful of letting her go.

"What happened?" he stressed, trying to force down the hard lump in his throat. He couldn't cry in front of her. She needed him to be strong.

"A man," she whispered, gently giving his hand a squeeze, "red eyes. He knew about Mitsuki, said I deserved it."

"Deserved it?" Izuku repeated, dumbfounded. Deserved what? His mother had nothing to do with the Bakugou tragedy…

"He knocked me down a-and did this," she used her free hand to shakily imitate stabbing motions. Her eyes welled up and Izuku fought back his own tears at seeing his mother so broken. "Tried to start a fire in the lounge b-but couldn't, the neighbours heard the commotion and he ran away."

Inko heaved out roughly, each breath sounding painful as she shifted slightly, wincing every now and again while the monitor beeped beside her.

"I'm sorry, Izuku," she whispered, mother and son's eyes meeting before she began closing them slowly. "I'm so sorry."

"Mum?" Izuku released her hand and gave her a few gentle nudges. She moaned softly, streaks of tears lined down her cheeks as her chest slowly rose and fell.

She was alive. Injured but alive.

The teen pushed himself away and slowly made his way out of the ward, feeling like his head was filled with cotton wool. The second the doors to the ward shut behind him, he allowed himself to break down, sobbing quietly against one of the off-white walls of the long and empty hospital corridor.

Who could have done this?

His mother was the most gentle soul he had ever known, rarely raising her voice or getting angry. Why had somebody attacked her?

The mystery person was wrong; his mother didn't deserve what had happened to her.

Izuku thought back to what the police had explained to him, about the attacker. According to the report made, he had mentioned Mitsuki Bakugou. Which was not only confusing but odd too.

Then there was that weird guy with the unusual red eyes back in his neighbourhood, he was wearing a hoodie so his hair was completely concealed. His mother had mentioned red eyes hadn't she?

Izuku only knew one person with that rare eye colour and then there was another thought playing on his mind;

Who truly knew Mitsuki Bakugou besides the Midoriya Family?

Aside from…

"Kacchan?"

#my writing #epilogue for the lost #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha #izuku midoriya #all might #dfo #afo is hisashi midoriya #inko midoriya #dad for one

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aquarianlights · 3 years

Text

I am in a serious financial bind. 😥 If anyone is in a position to listen & help or signal boost, pls keep reading...

This is from my apartment complex. I am in low-income housing. I called them & sent them proof I could pay on the 23rd. I told them I could (just barely) put 100 down now & they said that was too little.

They said they would file for eviction on the 16th, which adds $150 to my rent. They will cancel the court date and eviction on the 23rd when I pay.

But that doesn't cancel the $150 filing fee.

Idk where that $150 would come from. Idky they think it's fair that someone who cannot pay should be forced to pay even more??? That makes no sense. I can only just barely afford my rent every month as is.

These are from my energy company. I apparently owe them over $600. I genuinely do not know how this happened. We were on the phone for a very long time trying to figure it out & I was in tears for the latter portion of it because I swear I paid.

I usually keep record of my payments via taking a picture of my receipt since they are electronic, but my dog chewed up my phone (which I have pics of if need be for evidence) and broke it, so I had to get a replacement phone sent to me from the insurance company & nothing transferred from the old phone, so all my pics were wiped.

I found no record in my emails, either.

The meds I am taking to try to go into remission and the autoimmune disease itself both cause brain fog and issues with time warping, so it is possible maybe I skipped a month or something, but I highly doubt I would have skipped up to 600+ dollars worth of payments.

I have tons of electronic and hard copy calendars & they are all synced and constantly updated so that I know when payments are due. I also have text and email reminders sent to me, but I could find no reminders in my email for MONTHS now until they were telling me they were going to shut my power off if I didn't pay this. Idk why I was not sent reminders for months???

In the end, I agreed to set up a payment plan. Paying, like... 50-60ish on top of whatever my electric bill is every month for 12 months. It was the lowest they could go.

I can barely afford my electric bill as it is, so idk how I will be able to do this? They did give me a list of charities in my area so I will be using what little energy I have to call around & see if any of them would be willing to help me pay this. Idk how those work (they're mostly churches???), so I'm just gonna try & see what happens. 🤔

On top of all that, I *think* this is telling me my Medicaid has been cancelled but I'm not 100% sure?????

I'm going through treatment for a very serious, disabling problem that should last ~1 year and rn Medicaid is picking up what my Medicare doesn't cover and some of my doctors/specialists and treatments are medicaid only.

If I lose this, I'm basically done.

I know they'll do backpay if I get it back, but Idk if I *will* get it back. I'll be trying to get it back, but in the meantime, I guess I'll just have to pay out of pocket, idk??? Which I do not have.

I have lost almost ALL autonomy due to this autoimmune disease, which (in a very simplified form) is basically my immune cells "eating" my muscle tissue. I can barely get out of bed. Treatment should put me in remission & give me my life back. I am seeing a rheumatologist, neurologist, dermatologist, PCP, physical therapist, psychiatrist, psychologist, and going to a holistic pain treatment center that does a different kind of physical therapy to bring down pain levels (which I was put into that program by my rheum). All of these are in relation to & necessary for my disease. I am going through TONS of testing almost weekly now & trying out treatments like IVIG and chemo where I am in the hospital hooked up to an IV for 4-6+ hrs of that day and the cost of those things without Medicaid picking up what Medicare doesn't cover is astronomical. I have to sign waivers every time I get my blood drawn (which is almost weekly now), do tests, and do treatments saying I will pay if Medicaid does not pick up the extra.

I already have crippling medical debt; I don't need more. I'm scared they won't let me do any more tests or treatments if they see I am just letting it all go to collections & am not paying.

This could mean the difference between having a life worth living (to me) where I am happy & thriving & autonomous or being bed-bound & living a life of just existing from day to day & miserable & in pain & suffering & unable to do anything for myself. This is literally life and death for me because I wouldn't be able to handle continuing to live in the latter scenario. I cannot handle living like I am now. Knowing my treatments are progressing is what keeps me going. Knowing I can go into remission is what keeps me going. Knowing my future is one completely different from now is what keeps me going. But if I cannot have that and am destined to live in this current state, it's just not worth it. I don't know a person alive who would want to live like this.

Finally, my anger noodle needs to get to the vet for MULTIPLE things. Nothing is, like... life threatening or super immediate like his cancer was last year, but they're things that need to be addressed in terms of preventative care & to make sure he isn't in pain.

He needs his trachea checked, possibly x-rays for that, maybe more...

He needs some medication updates, needs a physical, needs a full groom & nail clip under anesthesia (for those who are not familiar with Echo, he has extreme fear-based aggression & usually gets this done under anesthesia; since I worked with him so much, he had his first non-anesthesia nail clip at the beginning of quarantine, but he has gotten worse during quarantine & with my muscle eating disease, I can no longer restrain him & don't have the physical strength to run a brush through his thicker fur as his winter coat is in, so I can no longer groom certain areas of him at home, so his tummy & back legs are matted & I fear he may need to be shaved... which breaks my heart since you don't shave double coat dogs unless medically necessary.), he needs a full physical, & needs to be checked over for MCT's.

He may also need a fecal test or something else, as he has been having odd bowel movements. 😥 His tummy has been upset lately.

I have been crying myself to sleep every single night & often during the day because I cannot get him to the vet. No, it isn't urgent or life threatening. But he is reverse sneezing more than normal & I worry about tracheal collapse, which is a common small dog thing & even MORE common in pomeranians specifically. Every time he has a fit, I think "Oh god, this is it. This is the time I'm gonna have to rush him to the e-vet & get slammed with a huge bill & he is not gonna be okay..."

It breaks my heart to see his legs & belly matted. He is horrible about letting me groom him coz of his aggression so he only gets a full grooms at the vet, but I do short grooming sessions at home with him nightly. Takes about 2 hours just to do the majority of one side of him (not even all of it; just most) coz he needs breaks & lots of praise every few strokes or he will tear me to shreds & hurt himself snapping on the undercoat rake. 😥

But now that my autoimmune disease has atrophied my muscles to the point holding up my phone without something to prop it up feels like I am lifting weights & tires my arms out with a lactic acid burn & pain, I can no longer groom him with the patience he needs & can only groom in 20 minute intervals at the VERY longest. By the time I have gotten one leg done during the week, his entire other side is matted. 😞 Matting on dogs---especially double coat dogs---hurts them. It's like if someone were to wrap your hair around their fingers & then pull it taut. It's a constant pulling pressure on their skin... it's painful & irritates the epidermis. I feel miserable feeling the matting on his back legs & tummy & now feeling the mats beginning to form on the rest of him. He hates me working them out, even with the detangling spray. I know it must hurt so much...

So he may need to be shaved at this point & that will destroy me. I feel sick thinking about it. But anything to get him out of pain. Maybe it is what's best for him while I go through this year of treatment & get my muscles back. But in order to do that, I need to get him to the vet.

The stress of not being able to get him to a vet is tearing me apart & literally making me physically ill.

He is my world. My everything. My #1. My heart dog. My priority in life. My entire universe revolves around him. I would do anything for him. Not a single person, animal, thing, etc, comes before him. It is KILLING me that I cannot provide proper care for him right now. I always always always make sure to sacrifice for him if need be & his things ALWAYS come first, even if it means I'm not eating or not paying bills or whatever. As long as he is taken care of & his needs & wants are met, nothing else matters to me. And right now........ I feel he is suffering because of my finances & the fact my treatment with building my muscles up is not going fast enough.

I cannot control the latter one, but the first one is something I can at least ask for help for. So that is what I am doing.

If anyone is in a place to help, these are my venmo & cashapp codes. I also have paypal.

💙 Venmo: @kqroswell

💚 Cashapp: $kqroswell

💜 Paypal: @kqroswell or [email protected]

If there is another form of payment you're thinking of, lemme know. I also have fb pay activated if you have me on FB (Killian Q Roswell).

Thank you to everyone who read through this & anyone who can help or reblog this. 💖

Sincerely,

Your v scared, struggling transman who really wants his bills/rent paid & his dog to go to the vet,

Killian 💞

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mangekyuou · 4 years

Text

LET ME IN ━ﾞ

⁺◟ CHARACTERS . . . kujo jotaro fem!reader holly ‘ joseph ‘ suzi q ‘ jolyne mentions of the crusaders

⁺◟ GENRE . . . angst fluff oneshot

⁺◟ SYNOPSIS . . . 1989 was a scary year for jotaro. from the threat of his mother dying to going all the way to egypt to fight a vampire who took over his great great grandfather’s body. when coming back to japan, he finds out about, ( y/n ), the principal’s daughter’s who had brought his work home and took care of his mother while he was gone. after getting to know her, he does something he has never done before, let someone in and tell them how he’s feeling.

⁺◟ TRIGGER WARNINGS . . . mentions of death ‘ mental illness ptsd ‘ depression

⁺◟ WORD COUNT . . . 4.7k.

⁺◟ COMMENTARY . . . i originally didn’t plan for this to be this long. i have NEVER written so many words. oh wow.

Tap...tap...tap, the bamboo well sounded to the right of a young schoolgirl dressed a purple uniform, the ascot on her uniform being dark blue with a small mermaid tail on one the sides that her mother had stitched into it to make the young woman stand out, despite her will to never stand out.

School had let out a few hours ago, and she, ( y/n ) was tasked with heading to the Kujo household to give Jotaro his homework for the past few weeks.

The tall, muscular delinquent had pretty much disappeared from their school. He just up and left, without a word. Leaving his grades and fanclub to somewhat suffer, which was where ( y/n ) came in.

One of the top and most well behaved students at their school, trusted by the admiration. She was known for her good girl status across the campus. But she was fairly timid, quiet and, very reserved. If she spent half as much time as she did focusing on her work, she would have more friends than she did.

But what could you expect from her? It was expected of her. Her father was the school’s principal, while her mother was a college professor. She was expected to be smart and top of her class. Anything lower than that would be unacceptable. It was stressed to her from a young age from both of her parents as well as the rest of her family, as they had high expectations for her future, hoping she would become a doctor or a lawyer, even if she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life after high school at this point.

Now the principal’s daughter stood in front of the luxurious Kujo home, coming just from school, holding a large vanilla folder full of worksheets, handwritten notes from her very own journal that she copied onto her own loose-leaf paper because she ran out of printer paper at home and she was too scared to ask her mother for more, and many more papers that served as guides that would help Jotaro with all of his homework and studies since he wasn’t in class for the lessons.

She didn’t want to be here. She barely even knew the guy, only having any a handful of encounters with him.

He was her lab partner for a physics project once, but the two never talked after that. They had barely talked during the project. She tried to introduce herself and he blew her off, wanting to do the project alone. But he came around in the end, helping her but he wasn’t in school the day the two had to present as he was rumored to have been arrested the night before for beating a group of thugs to a pulp.

She always felt weird around him, like she was unwanted and she understood, trying to stay out of his hair often the project but at the discretion of her father, once again here she was having to meet the cold individual because he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.

In his own words: “You two are classmates. I’m sure he’ll be happier to get his work from a classmate rather than a teacher. And you’re one of the only students who doesn’t fangirl around him.”

Right, his fangirls who were both envious and angry at ( y/n ) for getting the chance to go to Jotaro’s home and give him his homework. It’s not like she wanted to do it anyways.

The property was quite gorgeous, and quiet. In a way, too quiet. She crossed the wooden bridge, walking to the home. She felt nervousness fill in her chest, as her heart began to race. She clung on tightly to the vanilla folder, as she approached the door.

Now face to face with the door, she knocked slightly, hoping and praying no one would answer the door, but she was wrong.

A sickly-looking fair headed woman with the prettiest blue-green eyes. Her skin was as pale as paper and beads of sweat decorated her forehead. She looked not only sick but in pain.

“A-Are you okay?” The young girl asked with a look of concern washing over her face.

The fair headed woman gave her a weak smile, “Y-Yes. I’m just a little tired. Luckily, I was already heading to the door when you came. C-Come in...”

“B-But I haven’t introduced myself ye―” She began, stopping midsentence as she watched the older woman’s eyes roll to the back of her head, as her body gave out from under her.

“MRS. KUJO!” She dropped the folder, quickly grabbing Holly before she could reach the ground. Her weak arms barely being able to hold the woman up. She quickly recovered herself, wrapping one of Holly’s arms around her shoulders and leading her over to a futon that sat in the middle of the floor and placing her down gently, “Easy does it.”

Holly opened her eyes, reaching up for her head, “What...what happened?”

“You passed out at the door, Mrs. Kujo, and I caught you before you fell. You only blacked out for a minute.” She placed the back of her hand to Holly’s forehead, feeling the extreme warmth, “You’re burning up. Have you seen a doctor? Do you need me to call an ambulance.”

“N-No! I’ll be okay...please don’t worry about me.”

“It’s kind of hard not to. You fainted at the door. And you’re here with a high fever all alone. Is Jotaro here with you? Is that why he hasn’t been coming to school?”

Holly eyed the girl up and down, noticing her school uniform, “Oh...you must be one of Jotaro’s classmates. He’s not here now and he won’t be here for a while. Did...did you come here to bring his work to him?”

“Yes, is that...is that okay?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want my boy to get behind on his school work.”

The girl lowered her head slightly, “I...I brought extensive notes for him as well, so he could understand the lesson despite not being there for it. If he needs more help, I’d be very happy to help him.”

“What’s your name?”

“( l/n ) ( y/n ), why?”

“Because I wanted to put a name to your face and so I can tell Jotaro who brought his work when he comes back,” Holly said with a smile. For a sickly woman, she sure did smile a lot. She struggled to sit up.

“M-Mrs, Kujo! You should lay down so you don’t hurt yourself,” ( y/n ) warned the woman, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder gently. Holly laid back down, letting a pained whimper.

“I...I should go. I’ll pick up the notes and worksheets and I’ll leave them on the table for Jotaro.”

Holly took ( y/n )’s hand into her soft one, putting her free hand on top of their joint hands, “Could you do one thing for me before you go?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Could you make me shogayu? I could really go for some.”

The young girl nodded, “Of course. It will only be a second.”

And she did just that, making the older woman shogayu. The best damn shogayu she ever made all for the mother of one of her classmates because it made her feel warm on the inside watching Holly smile.

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. Before ( y/n ) knew it, the sun was beginning to set and the moon was beginning to rise. She had gotten lost in conversation with the fair headed woman. It was the best type of conversation to have, one where you could talk about just about anything.

Holly had told embarrassing childhood tales of Jotaro, even some from her own childhood. Even at one point, ( y/n ) had opened up to Holly about her struggle with her own family and she listened. No one had ever listened to her before, at least not like Holly did. Here she felt like she was her own person and not the daughter of her parents.

Much to her dismay, she had to go home. But she made sure that wasn’t the last time she had met Holly.

Many more days after that, she returned to the home to check on her, each day she had gotten worse and it had scared her. She had made a new friend who was getting worse and worse by the day. She watched as random men from some unknown foundation came in and hooked her to IVs and many other machines to keep her breathing.

Seeing Holly like this, broke her. There she sat, on her knees in front of Holly’s futon, the sound of beeping from the machine and sniffles filled the now silent room. She had been since school had let out, her backpack was tossed across the room as she ran to Holly’s side to keep her company. Even if she was out cold, she still wanted to be there for her when she woke up. She held onto her hand, just like the first night she met the hair headed woman, how Holly held onto her hand, as she softly sang Japanese lullabies her own mother sang to her when she was sick.

The last few days were the worst, being told that Holly was on the verge of death and she didn’t understand why. She was told nothing. What was killing her? Why was she dying? Why were all these people from this organization here? What was going on?

She didn’t understand. Not even when a much older woman had walked in, claiming to be Holly’s mother. ( y/n ) didn’t talk much, only worrying about Holly’s condition. She had cried over someone else’s mother than she had over anything else. She had never experienced loss and she was afraid to.

Not only was the thought of losing a friend and mother figure on her mind, but the scary reality that Jotaro could be gone and his mother could die without even getting to tell him that she loves him one last time.

But her thoughts had disappeared one day.

It started out just like any day. After the dismissal bell had sounded through every room of the school, the girl rushed to grab her things, shoving them into her backpack and practically running out of the school and to the Kujo home.

Just as she reached the bridge, she halted. Standing on the other side was the tall stoic boy.

Jotaro was back.

There he stood in all his glory. He wore a purple tank top, his arm wrapped in a cast, a sling around his neck to hold it up. His upper arms on either side were decorated in red and purple bruises and elastic bandages. Even without his jacket on, she still recognized those bright blue eyes of his. That is of course without paying attention to his hat.

He noticed the panic and sadness in her eyes. But it wasn’t because she pitied him. He knew why she was here. She was here to check on his mother. He had become aware of her visits to his home from his grandmother, Suzi Q, who even told him, “there were even nights where she didn’t leave and slept over, but she always made sure to leave early in the morning so her family wouldn’t go out looking for her”.

To know that she cared for his mother so much, to come every day after school, it surprised him. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, it warmed his heart. And he knew that that was exactly reason she stood on the other side of the bridge right now, to see if Holly had made it.

He stepped to the side, giving her a clear walkway. He shoved his one hand into the pocket of his pants, looking away from her, “She hasn’t stopped talking about you since she woke up. She’ll be happy to see you.”

( y/n )’s ears peered up at the mention of ‘her’. She knew there was only one person he could be talking about. A look of glee replaced her look of panic and sadness, as she ran across the bridge right into his arms, hugging him gently, careful not to hurt his arm.

“Get off,” He said coldly, returning to the boy she knew. She did as he said, running toward the large home, calling out to Holly who met her halfway, pulling her in for a tight hug.

Dinner was fun that night, Holly inviting ( y/n ) to stay and take a seat between her and Jotaro. Holly quickly introduced the young girl to Joseph who had thanked her profusely for taking care and keeping his only baby girl company for as long as she did.

Jotaro had struggled slightly with his meal, the young girl had offered to help. Even after he declined a few times, she still helped him. And he watched her. Not in angry or annoyance, but in admiration and astonishment. From what he had recalled about his minimal encounters principal’s daughter, he wasn’t very nice to her. But here she was, in his home, trying to help him eat. And for the first time in a long time, he let go and allowed her to help him.

In the following weeks, she helped him get back on track with his studies, taking things slowly as he still injured and often would zone out when she was talking.

Unsure whether to ask him or not, she had asked his grandfather Joseph and she learned the truth or at least part of the truth. Her inability to see Stands had made it hard for the old man to explain some parts of what had happened to not only Jotaro but him and a friend they made along the way to Egypt.

She learned of the deaths of three.

Avdol.

Iggy.

Kakyoin.

All friends of Jotaro’s. Dead. Gone. Never coming back. He can never see them again. Never talk to them, never tell them how they made him feel. Joseph was mumbling on about survivor’s guilt when it hit her. He wasn’t only hurting physically but mentally as well. It was all too much for a 17-year-old to handle, let alone an adult! But yet here he was, trying to push onto the next day. Acting tough, like nothing ever happened.

She knew it was wrong to just bring it up if he didn’t want to talk about it with her. I mean who was she? Just a classmate of his. She wasn’t a friend. She wasn’t family. She was just a classmate who helped him on the side to help get his grades back up.

But she couldn’t lie and pretend she didn’t know, especially when the death of his three friends was beginning to affect his grades again. And so she told him.

“Jotaro...if you ever need someone to talk to...about anything...anything at all...I’m here for you and I will always be here for you. And I hope you know that.”

Though he didn’t say anything that day, he took her words and held onto them.

Weeks had passed since then and they were now about to graduate. She was top of the class, followed closely behind by Jotaro, who was only a point behind her.

Just by pure coincidence, the two had gotten accepted into the same university in America. He was going into marine biology, and she, law. According to Holly, it was somehow fate trying to tell her something but she blew it off and prepared for her great big move to America which would be happening soon.

During the night, on her last week in Japan, there was a light tapping at her window, waking her up. It was Jotaro at her window. She opened the window, asking him if something was wrong. Not only was it pitch black outside and probably past midnight, but he had never done this before.

But her questions were answered when she looked into his eyes, not seeing that tall, stoic man, but a sensitive young man who has been through a lot. He opened his mouth and reminded her of her own words, “( y/n ), do you remember you said I could talk to you about anything?”

“Of course I do, Jojo.”

“Are...are you available to talk right now?”

How was she going to say now? She allowed the man to climb into her bedroom, closing the window behind him. And he told her everything, from start to finish, beginning to end.

He told her about his Stand, Star Platinum, and the first time it had appeared. He told her of seeing Star’s true potential and when he learned of what a Stand really was. He told her of the friends he made along the way, the friends he had lost at the very end before coming home. He even told her why he left and why Holly was sick.

The man was sobbing by the end of it. She, not knowing how else to comfort him, pulled him in for a hug, allowing him to let out and thanking him for trusting her with such information. Though he found himself embarrassed for crying in front of her, she tried to let him know that it was okay to cry sometimes.

“Thank you, Jojo.”

“For what?”

“Letting me inside, letting me comfort you, letting me hold you.”

But that was all in 1989.

It was now 1999.

Ten years had past and the two were still inseparable.

Well, almost.

The now much older woman let out an annoyed whine, as she leaned against the side of the brown desk. She placed both of her hands onto the surface of the desk before scooting up onto it, much to the dismay of the man sitting next to her who was concentrated on a stack of papers in front of him.

“Jojo, I finally get some time between cases and you head off to leave us again?”

“I don’t particularly want to. Joseph wants me to.”

( y/n ) folded her arms across her chest, letting out a huff, “I forgot. Joseph’s illegitimate son is all the new rave. I know Grandma Suzi is taking it rough. I wonder how Mom is taking it.”

“I’m not sure and I don’t think I want to know right now. I’m only going to Morioh to investigate. I’ll be back before you know it,” He added, his eyes still scanning over the papers in front of him.

She rolled her eyes, “You always say that. You and this Stand stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever understand and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You could have married a girl with a Stand.”

“But I didn’t. You’re the perfect one for me.”

He had proposed a year and a half into their relationship, the pair getting married at the young age of 20. He had married his best friend and the woman who listened to him. A year later the pair welcomed their first and only child, Jolyne, Holly being the one who picked out her name.

Even at a young age, she had developed Jotaro’s personality and a modified version of his catchphrase, which annoyed her mother, hoping she would at least develop something from her.

In reality, she did. She developed ( y/n )’s annoyance toward Jotaro’s frequent absence. Oh, and her eyes.

The man took his wife’s left hand into his own, looking down at her wedding band and diamond engagement ring. She always wore both. Why just wear one when both were gorgeous? He continued, “I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Stand or not, you’re the only woman I want. Not for your looks, even though you’re the most beautiful woman alive. Not for your talents, even though you’re the most talented woman I know. Hell not even for your job, even though you’re the best damn lawyer on the face of this Earth. I love you because of your personality, because you’re my rock, you’re the woman who I trust my life with.”

“You’re only getting soft on me because you know you’re going to be gone for a while, don’t you?” The woman questioned, trying not to swoon over his words. It had worked many times before but now this time. They had been married for eight years now. She knew him inside and out.

He was smart enough not to answer, kissing her knuckles.

“You’re unbelievable, Jojo. But you flatter me. Do you really trust me with your life? Even if I don’t have a Stand?”

“You’re the only one I will ever trust. You said it yourself back when we were teenagers. That night when I came to your door, I let you inside. I let you comfort me. I let you hold me. And I don’t think I could ever do that with another person, let alone another woman,” He answered truthfully, pulling his wife of eight years from his desk, onto his lap.

( y/n ) giggled, “You’re still my stoic romantic. I love you, Jojo.”

“I love you too, ( y/n ).”

The woman wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate, loving kiss. He kissed back, wasting little time, wrapping one strong arm around her waist, pulling her as close as he could get. His strong chest had collided with hers, their fragrances intermixing with one another to create a new one, love.

He could feel her warmth, and she could feel his. It wasn’t often he would let her kiss him like this. It was always a simple peck on the cheek or sometimes on the lips.

She missed this. She missed her husband.

In marrying him, she knew he wasn’t the most affectionate man, so when he was affectionate, she didn’t waste a single touch, a single hug, a single kiss. She had always waited for it. And when it came, it had always made her giddy like a little child, this moment they shared in his office.

Interrupting their kiss, a small ‘yuck’ sounded from a crack in the door. Jotaro had pulled away from your lips, an audible whine leaving her lips. Jotaro looked toward the track in the door, seeing their daughter peeping at the two of them with a look of disgust.

Seeing as now she was caught, Jolyne’s eyes widened before she rubbed her eyes and opening the door. She faked a yawn, stepping into the office, “Mommy, I had a bad dream―”

“Jolyne, no need to lie. We both know you were standing right there the entire time. No one else is in the house but the three of us.”

The young girl, put her small hands behind her back, “Maybe...maybe there’s someone else in the house.”

( y/n ) raised an eyebrow, “Someone else in the house? Like a monster.” A small devilish grin appeared on her face. There was something about that grin that made set a flame inside of him. He knew what she was doing and decided to play along.

Jotaro hummed, “There might be a monster in the house. I remember seeing it on the way to work just when I stopped in Jolyne’s room to kiss her forehead before I left. He was in the closet.”

Jolyne’s eyes widened once more at the mention of a monster being in her closet. She stood frozen, as parents continued to relish over seeing some kind of monster. Her mother continued, “I think that was a different one. The one I saw was under her bed. It had long skinny hands with razor-sharp claws. It even asked me if it could eat her and I said―”

Before she could finish, Jolyne ran into her parents, pulling them both in for a tight hug as she sobbed, “MOMMY! DADDY! PLEASE DON’T LET THEM GET ME! I WON’T SPY ANYMORE! I WON’T BE BAD! PLEASE! DON’T LET THEM GET ME!”

“J-Jojo. There are no monsters. We were just messing with you. Daddy killed all the monsters,” ( y/n ) explained, trying to soothe the now sobbing Jolyne.

Jolyne sniffled, “Really?”

Jotaro kissed his daughter’s head, “Yes, I did. No monsters will ever get to you. I promise. Monsters...they’re scary but we have to fight them sometimes and if I didn’t fight the monsters I did, I wouldn’t have met your mother and you wouldn’t be here. After fighting the real monsters, I fought monsters that were in my head.”

Jolyne gasped, listening to her father, “Monsters can get in your head?”

Her father nodded, “They get in there and they stay in there. They suck the life out of you and remind you of what went wrong.”

( y/n ) listened closely, watching as Jolyne had slowly retracted her arms, climbing into her mother’s lap. Jotaro reached up slightly, wiping away the tears that had fallen from Jolyne’s emerald green eyes, which reminded him of what used to be. He continued.

“And when monsters get in your head it’s hard to get them out. Sometimes...people don’t get them out.”

“What happens when the monsters don’t come out?”

“It depends. Sometimes that person, goes a while they move on to a better place,” He tried to explain, not wanting to explain the concept of death to the seven-year-old.

Jolyne blinked, “But they come back, right? They have family and friends so they can’t leave, right?”

( y/n ) looked to her husband, noticing the sudden change in his face. She knew this was a sensitive subject. Though he claimed to be over the death of his friends, she knew he wasn’t. You don’t just get over the death of someone close to you.

To this day, he often woke up in cold sweats from nightmares about his trip to Egypt, seeing his friends die before his eyes and not being able to do anything about it.

His most recent nightmare being one about his own wife and daughter become victims of DIO. Hearing their screams and cries had stuck in his mind and wouldn’t leave. He...he broke out into tears in his sleep. ( y/n ) had woken him up from nightmare, and he hugged her tighter than he ever hugged her before. He even brought a sleeping Jolyne into the master bedroom, so he could watch over the most two important women in his life.

( y/n ) opened her mouth to speak, but Jotaro was quicker, “Sometimes, they don’t come back and they can’t come back. But when you have the right people to talk to and you have someone at your side, they can get better. I got a little better because your mother helped me fight my mind monsters.”

Jolyne looked to her mother in amazement, her eyes sparkling in joy, “Mommy, can fight mind monsters?! That’s so cool!”

He nodded in agreement, “She is really cool. She’s very cool. And I’m so happy I met her and opened up to her. And it was all because of―”

“GRANDMA!” Jolyne interrupted him, holding her small fists in the air with stars in her eyes. ( y/n ) ruffled her daughter’s hair gently, kissing her cheek, “I’m going to go make dinner―”

“No need. I already made it,” Jotaro chimed.

“But you didn’t...”

“Yeah! I’m ready to eat!”

With the flash of light, the couple’s emerald-eyed daughter had bolted out of the office.

( y/n ) was suspicious, “You stopped time to make dinner, didn’t you?”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. You’ll never know.”

She smiled at her husband, taking his hat off and putting it on her own head, “I’ll be taking this, Mr. Kujo.”

The man stood up from his chair, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her into his broad chest once more. He took his hat back, before unraveling his arm, earning an eye roll from the woman, “You’re such a tease, Mr. Kujo.”

“And you’re a pain in the ass, Mrs. Kujo.”

“But you love it.”

“You’re damn right, I do.”

A now annoyed voice spoke from the door, “Yare yare dawa...CAN YOU TWO STOP KISSING AND COME EAT?! I CAN’T REACH THE PLATES!”

⁺◟ BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Title: Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide [Livestream] Summary: Luke has a Space Youtube Channel and Leia watches his videos to de-stress from a terrible day. Mouse droids are named and the Empire and its terrible quality are dragged through the sarlacc pit. AN: Anyway, did somebody said TIE-Fighter story prequel? No? Too bad.

Leia was a well-composed and well-behaved serene princess right up until the doors of her rooms closed behind her. The moment she was out of sight, she kicked off her shoes with such a force that they soared half across the room and crashed against her wardrobe with a loud crack. She took the pins keeping her braids in place out of her hair and threw them onto the dresser. Then as graceless as a regular fifteen-year-old girl, Leia dropped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow.

Today had been terrible.

Leia hated all the pointless festivities that only ever served to make everyone there feel important and powerful but did absolutely nothing for the people they were supposed to govern. She couldn’t understand how her parents managed it. They were good and selfless people, always calm and serene even when the newest governor was basically spitting one insult after the other at them. Leia always wanted to shout back, it was her first instinct. Idiots who couldn’t be bothered to contribute anything productive or kind, should shut up and stop hindering others from doing their job. Leia had kept her mouth shut of course. She had smiled pleasantly as her mother had taught her and acted as expected from her.

But that didn’t mean that she hadn’t wanted to strip the gloves off her hands and show him how much of a bloodthirsty royal she really was. She shouldn’t have desired it, but it annoyed her so much when others purposefully misunderstood her. It had been a year since she picked her coronation color. When would people finally stop commenting on it?

Yes! Princess Leia Organa had chosen white! She’d forgone five-hundred-years of tradition and picked the color of the snow on Alderaan’s mountains, of ice so cold it burned, of the sheets upon which they wrote the names of their dead.

Leia wore the color of war, mourning and remembrance and she wore it well.

How could she not when the Empire was murdering innocents, subjugating whole worlds and waging an unjust war? Picking green or blue would be an insult upon the suffering she had been forced to witness. She didn’t want to be remembered as another impassive royal, bowing to the whims of the Empire. Leia hadn’t been meant to live in a tyrannizing Empire in which she had to watch her every word and step. She wanted to speak her mind and missed the Republic she never got to experience.

Her parents, while displeased she out herself in such danger, had understood it. Most Alderaanians understood it and supported her, but not that stupid new governor. Instead, he went on and on about her image and character flaws – and worse! Talked about marriage.

Leia was already dead set on staying unmarried. Her parents had been lucky. Despite their marriage being arranged, they’d loved each other. Or maybe they had been in love first and the political advantage of the marriage was just a bonus. Leia didn’t entirely know, but she knew to one hundred percent that all her potential Alderaani suitors sucked. They were arrogant and petty or worse, both of that but way older than her as well. She could marry somebody from a different planet, but the Old Houses would frown upon that and then she’d have to deal with more in-fighting and risk losing control of Alderaan’s society and give the Empire even more access to her planet. It was bad enough as it was.

Groaning, Leia rolled onto her back and got up from her bed again. She’d hate herself in the morning if she didn’t dress out of the fine robes completely. She fetched herself her sleeping clothes and washed the make-up off her face. It felt like taking off uncomfortable armor and she was more than glad to get rid of it. Leia didn’t mind dressing up. As a child, she had loved trying on her parents’ much too large clothes and she still loved picking out dresses together with her mother, but sometimes she wished it all wouldn’t take so much energy.

Redressed, Leia returned to her bed, ready to pretend to fall asleep when she knew that she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes now. Her mind was too unfocused, her thoughts all jumbled up. She laid still and waited until another moment had passed before reaching for her bed stand and pulling out her secret private comm.

Leia had three of them. One for official business, one was the officially private secret comm – the one every important person in the galaxy was supposed to have and hide – and then there was her own, which she used to stay up-to-date with activities unbefitting on an Imperial princess.

She checked the holonet, skimming through articles that made her blood boil and delightfully bright art that called for resistance. She was pleased to notice that more and more Alderaani artists were choosing lighter colors in their barely legal paintings and downright joyful when she saw an account post images of white flags. Those posts would probably be taken down once the meaning behind them spread a little more, but Leia was proud nonetheless. She had caused this, this was her contribution to the Rebellion.

In a better mood already, Leia went through her notifications. She had a few replies to articles she had written and- oh.

[Notification: Scrap Hunting has started a livestream – 1 Min ago]

Smiling widely, Leia clicked on the link connecting her to the video. The livestream had indeed only started recently, and not even properly. Leia had missed the last one sadly because she’d been in the Core, too far away for Scrap Hunting’s terrible holonet connection to reach. Alderaan was just close enough to Tatooine for Leia to watch them.

She couldn’t quite recall how she had stumbled upon the channel. She had just been clicking through some random videos one day and there it had been. Leia wasn’t all that knowledgeable about ships – her parents had kept a keen eye on her since the Speeder accident she’d had when she was ten – and didn’t really have much access to the hangers either. Droids, on the other hand, Leia knew plenty about. They were everywhere and nobody wanted to live without them, which made them the perfect spies with the right adjustments. Leia knew how to wipe a droid’s memory so clean, it was shinier than any crystal and how to hide protocols upon protocols in their storage. Her favorite droids were C-3PO and the R2D2 unite serving on the Tantive IV. Artoo especially had a lot of personality. Leia needed to sort out her Binary so she could catch all the colorful curses the astromech liked to inflict on people.

The two boys running Scrap Hunting – well, only really Luke actually – were sympathetic. They didn’t talk about droids like they were simple tools and they were proficient in fixing them up. Therefore Leia was very pleased to see that the title of the livestream was Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide. This would be fun, the right kind of distracting noise she needed after such a long day.

“Alright, we’re all set up now,” Luke said. “Hello everybody! I’m Luke and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting!”

He waved at the recorder and then picked up a small back droid from his table. “This is what today’s livestream will be about! An MSE-series droid! A lot of you guys said you’d like more livestreams and the weather’s been pretty good recently and I fixed the signals so I hope this works out just fine.”

Luke smiled and reached for the first tool lying in front of him. “I decided that fixing up this little guy here should be fine for a shorter video. I don’t have to think so much about what I’m doing and can talk at the same time.”

He began taking off the outer casing of the droid and carefully set it aside. “I know, I know, I’m always talking, but nobody complains about it.” Luke stopped spinning his wrench for a moment to think. “Okay, alright, maybe my uncle complains about it sometimes but that’s what he gets for making me check all the vaporators on my own. Anyway, I talk a lot and so does this chat. Lots of people joining in here! Hi!”

Luke looked through the chat, returned greetings and explained how he had gotten the droid as payment for helping out in a repair shop.

“And I know the owner thought he was just giving me so boring little plaything, but do you know how versatile these MSE droids are?”

Leia definitely knew how useful they could be. She grinned when Luke comically shook his head when people began sending in question marks and began belittling the tiny Mouse droids. They made excellent spies, infiltrators and guides. Underestimating them just because they were cute was fatal. Leia was happy when Luke reacted as outraged as she was and began elaborating on what the droids could be used for.

“And like, I get sending the droids back when they trigger your instincts, I wouldn’t keep around a droid that reminds me of a womp rat or a krayt dragon.” Luke paused, the half-open mouse droid lying on his lap, and apparently considered his suggestions.

“Okay, maybe I would actually want them. Could you imagine a droid krayt dragon? So cool.”

Luke reached for the nearest datapad and took a few notes, then put it next to him on the table and returned to working on the MSE.

“But yeah, point being: Why did the Aar’aa sell them to the Empire so cheaply? Add some extra software and boom, you can sell them for twice the price. Then you’d even make a bonus. Oh, well, I suppose the Empire at least made a good deal there.”

The MSE droid laid bare now and Luke could easily access its memory. He took his datapad once more and connected it to the droid. After a few seconds, he had access to its memory and immediately frowned.

“Or it did not. What is this programming? I researched what I could find before, downloaded some protocols-“ Luke looked away from his datapad to point down, “-links in the description as always. But just- honestly. Who wrote this protocol?”

He gently knocked his head against the droid’s frame. “I’m so sorry, don’t worry, I’ll speed up your processors.”

The next hour, Leia spent listening to Luke ramble on about what changes he made and why. Once or twice she even threw her own suggestions in the chat and watched contently as Luke picked up on them and began to work with them. She wished she didn’t have so many duties and could spend her days doing things she actually wanted, take a more active role in the rebellion. But she supposed that as long as she could escape annoying politicians for a while, she’d be fine.

Leia glanced at her chrono. While it appeared to be midday still on Tatooine, it was already early morning for her. She should head to sleep soon.

Thankfully, the livestream was also wrapping up. Luke had reassembled the droid and screwed the last bolt down.

“And done!” Luke said and helped up the repaired Mouse droid. “A Quick And Easy Guide to Mouse Droids. Now, the only thing left is repainting and naming it. Same rules as always, highest donator gets to choose the color and the name.”

Leia watched as a lot of people began donating. Some just threw in five credits, just to support the channel. She’d done so before as well. It was only right to help somebody else and give him a thanks after cheering her up. Leia typed the first one, then stopped.

She was tired, had been for at least thirty minutes now, but her mind was finally calm as well. She was still and upset, but not so that she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Leia shouldn’t waste her allowance on this, but Leia had also had a terrible horrible no-good day and wanted to name that Mouse Droid.

“And that was it!” Luke announced. “Many thanks for all your donations. I’ll keep you posted on what my next project will be. Hopefully something a little more interesting than this little buddy here. Now let’s see… The highest donation is one- one thousand credits from @rebelroyal!?”

Luke’s voice was awfully high-pitched, shock visible all over his face. “Is this real- oh gosh. Thank you so, so much! I’m not sure- Many thanks for supporting this channel! You may name any future Mouse Droids I come across, oh Force. Right. Uhm. What is your suggestion?”

Leia eyes her discarded white dress on the floor and chose.

History’s eyes on you @ rebelroyal

Paint it white and name it Emmy! Many thanks for all the lovely content you provide.

Little Emmy, it turned out, look much better in white than it did in the awful black so representative for the Empire.

[Notification: Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot has mentioned you in a new post]

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

[Foto: Five Mouse Droids standing in front of Luke, who was sitting on the ground, smiling cheerfully. The droid in the middle was Emmy. It was a little banged up and had a couple more scratches. On its right were an orange and a blue droid, freshly painted from the looks of it. On Emmy’s left were two black ones]

@ rebelroyal The orange and blue ones have been painted and named already, care to do the honors for the other two?

Leia smiled fondly at the picture and began to type.

History’s eyes on you @ rebelroyal

How about yellow and green? Benny and Penny so it rhymes?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Done :D

[Foto: The two previously black mouse droids have been painted as well and are furiously cleaning the floor of a ship]

#star wars #leia organa #Luke Skywalker #emmy the mouse droid #fanfic #im back on my social media mess

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pazvizslaplasmathrower · 3 years

Text

Father of Hopes and Dreams- Chapter 16

Read here or on Ao3

Chapter 16: The Offer

Summary: Your young master is gone, just at the birth of your bond, he has left you for many years, leaving you to survive the galaxy alone. After sustaining an injury from a drunken storm trooper, someone faces the decision to either leave or help you in your moment of need.

Chapter Summary: Paz Vizsla rushes to Telos IV to find you medical help after a rough escape from New Republic officials!

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: asdfgfghjkl;' i'm having fun writing this lmao pls let me know what you think if you can <3 muchas gracias <3

________________________________________

Paz thanked the stars he managed to hastily repair the shields which had malfunctioned when they had needed them most. Given his large hands were not optimal for the intricate process, the work was not shoddy by any means. When that had been finished, something else had broken, that being the oxygen supply, seeing as the child had their hands full, he found it best to simply fix it and not tell them, lest they break into a panic. The ancestors must have blessed him greatly, because had he just been a moment slower, the powerful jolt that sent him flying would have perhaps prevented any dire repairs and depleted the whole ship of oxygen. Relieved for having survived, he picked himself up from the floor and entered the cockpit, prepared to wonder what in Maker’s name had happened. There was an uncomfortable constriction in his chest as each limb started to feel oddly numb and for a moment the Mandalorian forgot how to stand properly, almost falling to his knees. He rationalized first, sure that the youth had decided to take a nap at an inappropriate time; their sanctuary did seem to be in the realm of sleep.

There was no clear movement and the longer he stared, the more he noticed, specifically the blood that had splattered all over the main console. At once Paz rushed forward, but faltered noticing the barely noticeable smoke wafting away from the controls. The child was positioned face first into the console, but flipping them over might cause more damage if not damage to himself as well.

“(Y/N)?” He kept his voice as gentle as possible. “(Y/N), please…”

Paz Vizsla hoped for something, anything. Frustrated, he shed one glove, carefully putting his hand right underneath the young one’s nose, and he could feel the invisible heat of their breath. Unwilling to let this change slip, he slipped the glove on again and gently tapped their shoulder, seeing there was no electric current still coursing through their body. Nothing major appeared to be broken, save their nose which had been clearly smashed, so he took their frame into his arms. Positioning them proved difficult and Vizsla accidentally jostled the pack they were wearing. The child let out a dry groan, their brows furrowed in pain.

“Kark…”

After whispering a few apologies, the Mandalorian carried them to his own quarters, setting them facedown on the bed. Taking his vibro blade from his belt, he begrudgingly sliced through the pack material with ease. Reduced to strips, he pulled the fabric away, coming to a halt once again. They were very much frazzled, feathers in disarray but the bones were in place. His hand immediately went to touch what the child had been hiding, but before he could even move his arm, the foundling shifted in their unconsciousness. There was no time to ponder about the dark wings protruding from the child’s back, he needed to seek out a medic as soon as possible and heading to the intended destination was his best shot. After gingerly draping a blanket over them, Paz made sure to strap them in before heading back to the cockpit.

***___***___***

Opening your eyes, you could feel the crust of your tears give way. You did not dare move. In the time you spent on your own, you found it best to remain still after being knocked unconscious, to move too quickly so suddenly could potentially worsen any injuries. Though this time, you were sure of the physical trauma endured, hell, the last thing you could remember was the searing agony before your face smacked the console. Without even flexing a muscle, you could feel the irritable sensation of pins and needles spreading across your skin, and against your will, muscles started to spasm on their own. Though each time they did so, there was no unbearable agony, not the kind that left you hopeless.

Deciding it was safe enough to move, you forced your arms to push you up from the stiff bed until you were able to shakily lean against the durasteel wall. Finding it too strenuous to go any further, all you could focus on was breathing and sorting through a host of thoughts. How the hell had you gone from the pilot’s seat to a bed? Where was the Mandalorian Paz Vizsla? What of the insidious New Republic officers? Perhaps it would be safest to lock the door to the room and wait until help arrived, but what if Paz was in need of your help? Trying to build the will to walk over to the door, your body feeling exhaustion of nearly being electrocuted to death pulled you back down into a deep sleep.

“Did you bring your weapon, young (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Master.”

They sighed, though kept walking. “You know very well how I feel about you bringing that out of your bag.”

Determined to not be drowned out once again, you kept your voice clear. “I think it would suit me better if I used my own. I know you worry, but-”

Your teacher turned on the heel of their weathered boot, kneeling down and grabbing your shoulder, the sensation nearly throwing you into a panic. Despite wanting to look away, all you could do was remain still in their grip and focus on muting the bond between the two of you.

“You would do well to heed the word of your master, little one.” The heat of their breath made you sick. With a firm hand, they released one shoulder, roughly pulling your lightsaber from your belt. “I would feel better if you would use mine.”

As they let you go, their expectations were clear.

“Yes, Master...I’m sorry, Master.”

Rattled from their steely grasp and furious insistence, you simply trailed behind them, deciding to keep your eyes on the ground as your boots filled in the prints of your Jedi teacher. Kashyyyk in all of its lush greenery should have provided a sense of relief, with no real Imperial threat and the mountainous forests providing plenty of cover, there should have been little to fret over. Yet, anxiety radiated off of your Master, the feeling only serving to leave you on edge. On almost any other trek, even ones that were moderately risky, they would offer up some lessons to keep your mind occupied and continuing to grow. There was none of that now, your Master’s lips were taut, the muscle of their jaw pulsing. With nothing to really do and your body too tense for meditation, thoughts of food began to freely flow through your mind. Saliva started pooling in your mouth, the clenching of your stomach only making it worse. Your teacher had insisted funds were low, therefore reducing meals to two ration bars a day. It felt cruel, unfair, yet this was what surviving required: suffering and following the lead of the experienced.

“Master,” you dared to raise your voice. “I’m tired.”

“It’s not much longer,” they replied, their voice suddenly becoming faintly sweet, “You’re doing well. We are going to rest soon, just keep walking, alright?”

“Yes, Master.”

Being the dutiful young padawan you were, you followed their lead deeper into the woods, letting the light breeze caress your face, within the small gusts you could just barely feel the sensation of a raindrop hitting the tip of your nose. Gradually the few drops increased until a heavy downpour, with a shiver, you pulled the hood of your cloak over your head. The silence remained.

***___***___***

“May I help you in some-”

“I need a medic! Immediately!”

Nearly out of breath, Paz could hardly believe there would be anyone present in the absolutely devastated ruins of Anglebay Station. But indeed there were small pockets of people who had taken residence in what the razing had left behind, and at the center of those residences was the largest structure, stitched together to form a most desperate ward. No one dared to step in the Mandalorian’s way, the townspeople scattering before he could get close, save the young girl who came rushing from the makeshift medical center. Truthfully he felt guilty for being the cause of the young girl’s fright, but the circumstances were dire and he despised being alone from the child while they were in such a state, not to mention the secret they chose to withhold up until a while ago.

“I-I do apologize, but my mentor is resting, so you will have to bear with me.”

“But you still possess the abilities of a healer?” Paz asked, maintaining his unrelenting pace.

“Yes, sir.”

The medic questioned the condition of the patient-to-be, to which Paz Vizsla could only offer minimal information. Entering the ship, there was an agonizing silence as Paz opened the door to his own quarters. He was not entirely surprised, but ever thankful that the foundling had moved and was still breathing, albeit unevenly. The attendant froze in the doorway for a moment, seemingly shocked at the state of the child.

“I-I will do what I can.” The girl said quietly, loosening a pack that had been secured to her belt. “But I think I should call my teacher to-to make sure nothing else is wrong.”

Setting to work, he could just watch from a few feet away as the nurse positioned (Y/N)’s body at an odd angle to keep pressure off of their wings while still allowing access to their very much broken nose. Her hands gently realigned what had been smashed, placed bandages, heavily soaked in bacta, then secured gauze to keep it in place. She did occasionally look back at him from the corner of her eye while treating the burns littered on their arms. After taking a few scans, the girl stood.

“The ribs are slightly fractured, so they will have to be careful. But to make sure they are...set on the right track, I would like to have my mentor come take a look if you don’t mind.”

He sighed, just wanting to definitively know the young one was alright, there was still the lead from the Armorer he had to follow up with on the other side of Telos IV, the sooner this teacher could arrive, the better. The Mandalorian approved, and the girl took off far more hastily than she had come. Once alone, He knelt down next to (Y/N) who was now laid on their stomach (the lesser of two evils) and head turned to the side. All he could bring himself to do was whisper assurances and praise for outrunning the New Republic officers. Paz could have sworn the edges of their mouth perk up into a pained smile. It was already plenty easy to talk to the foundling, though now with their silence (thus lack of any undesired remarks), any leftover reservations had vanished and he found himself talking about anything and everything that came into his mind. Though they were already quite injured it was a relief to know that they were there with him than anywhere else in the galaxy. When a soft silence eventually fell, Paz Vizsla could not help but stare at the onyx feathers that sprouted from their back. They had very carefully cut the fabric of their tunic to make room for said wings, even going so far as to make sure the edges were sewn so no fringes or loose threads remained.

Though they had not known each other for a terribly long time, Paz believed that there was no malice between him and the child. Of course mistrust was to be expected, but to hide something so strange? Thinking about it now, Paz had not noticed then having kriffing wings when they had first met, so this had clearly been a development in their time together. When they woke he wondered how angry they would be now that he had discovered them. The texture of the feathers appeared rather strange, perhaps light but the sheen implied otherwise. Had he been a reckless youth without any restraint he would have given in to the desire to feel the texture of the wings, but best to ask permission when they woke. When the Mandalorian started to hear an alarming rattle in the child’s breathing, he had little time to worry as there was a frantic rapping at the ship’s entrance. After promising to be back in a few moments, Paz made his way to the entrance, ready for the worst, though hoping for the promised help.

“A Mandalorian. A rare sight around these parts.”

“Are you-”

“Yes, I am the girl’s teacher, Gaius.” The Barabel replied quickly. “Where is the patient?”

Something about the nurse’s teacher made Paz Vizsla’s muscles tense, there was an urgent curiosity in the reptilian’s eyes, but he would be by the young one’s side to make sure nothing else happened to them. Reluctantly, he led the medic to his quarters where the child lay, still in a painful slumber. After crossing the threshold, eyes falling upon the foundling, the Barabel’s eyes grew wide.

After cursing in his own language he rushed over far too quickly for the Mandalorian’s liking, claws observing the work of his pupil. The work was rushed, and what had been a straight laced expression the Barabel morphed into a toothy smirk. Upon finishing, he paused.

“Well?” Paz growled. “Are they going to be alright?”

“Do you have any idea of what you have here?” Gaius stood as Paz placed a hand on one of his blasters. “Do you know what this is?”

“Excuse me? What you are referring to is my child. You would do well to refer to them as such.”

“Well, excuse my rude nature, but it is hard to compose myself when looking at what should be an extinct species.”

Gaius chuckled at Paz’s confused silence, glancing back at (Y/N) whose rattled breathing was becoming even more irritated. Though before he could get a threat to cross his lips, Paz could only watch as the damned Barabel took his enormous, scaly, clawed hands and lifted the child up into the air from under their arms, poor (Y/N) unconsciously giving a pained groan. Drawing a blaster, Paz aimed it at the reptile, though he could just use the child as a shield, leaving the Mandalorian at Gaius’ mercy.

“Put. Them. Down.”

“But aren’t you curious?” His grip tightened. “What you have here is a being thought to have died over a millenia ago! Just one of these feathers could buy a whole starship!”

He could feel whis whole body vibrating with a mixture of rage and absolute panic. The Barabel was moving in such a frenzy, a shot would likely hit (Y/N), perhaps killing them in the process. Though it was not truthfully his style, Paz sheathed his blaster and dashed forward, kicking at the Barabel’s legs. Gaius let out a sharp hiss, letting go of (Y/N). The Mandalorian seized the foundling, pulling them to his chest with one arm and turning to point his flamethrower at the bastardous lizard. Sure it might not scorch the scales, but the eyes were much more vulnerable. Both men stood still, while he was putting pressure on the child’s wounds, Paz was not willing to loosen his hold.

“You’re hurting them you know.” The Barabel laughed quietly. “Might not wanna soil those wings more than they already are. Sell em’ and you’d never have to work another day in your life.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m just telling you the truth.” Gaius paused. “Say if I had a working bacta tank, they could be healed in no time. But, I’d like a cut of whatever that little one sells for!”

The Mandalorian made a show of pulling out his heavy blaster, making sure it was set to kill rather than stun. The enemy’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet.

“Hey look, a guy has to make his way somehow in this kriffing galaxy and it's not like Anglebay is a sign of living well!”

“You are suggesting I sell my child,” Paz seethed, “You have no right to call yourself a healer! I should kill you where you stand!”

“Then you leave an apprentice without her teacher and your...child without knowing of themself.”

He faltered at that, looking down at (Y/N) for a moment. What Gaius said could of course have been nothing but nonsense, but his unrestrained excitement upon seeing the foundling was too genuine to be a lie. The reptilian man grinned knowing that he had proven himself worthy of being spared.

Paz clenched his fists, hics knuckles cracking in the process. “Speak quickly. You test my patience.”

“And you promise I will get to walk freely? Without any other scratches?”

He tapped the trigger lightly. “Like I said. Speak quickly.”

Gaius licked his lips nervously, eyeing the door like a desperate man and though Paz was shorter, his frame was large enough to block it off.

“What you have there is an ancient, carnivorous species of predator going back millions of years. No one knows what planet they hailed from but the few that knew of them believed them to be indigenous to Alderaan. Unnamed of course. While their extinction may be unfortunate, it’s not surprising. Too many hunters and so little of them.

“Paz wanted to riddle the Barabel full of blaster shots, his voice made his ears almost bleed.

“Nothing in the galaxy gives off a shine quite like the feathers and those along with the teeth are said to not only have medicinal properties, but spiritual as well. Mounting went out of fashion and with years of violence the rich used them to to heal themselves and those in their inner circle.”

Gaius pointed a jagged claw at the child’s pained face.

“I thought all of them died long ago...It is said that one of my kind still possessed a feather from eons ago…”

The child’s guardian gestured to the door with the blaster, “There, you have served your purpose. Now leave before I change our deal.”

Keeping his hands up in defense, Gaius skidded around Paz, giving a very dry laugh, “Come on, Mandalorian. My pupil did heal your child. Just one feather, that is all I ask.” The Mandalorian kept advancing, forcing the reptile out of his ship.

“You get to leave with your life. Be thankful.”

And with the bastard finally out of the craft, Paz Vizsla slammed the button and the hatch closed with a crash. Realizing he was still tightly clinging onto (Y/N), he rushed back to his quarters and gingerly placed them back on the bed how the young nurse had positioned them. A second after they had been laid down, their lids of their eyes started to twitch before opening completely.

“Ugh,” they let out a low groan, attempting to stretch but finding it too painful, “what the hell happened?” Their eyes finally focused on Paz much to his delight. “Hey, big blue.”

Their anguished smile gave him one of his own. For there was much to explain and no real gentle way to do so.

#the mandalorian #the mandolorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fic #paz #paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #mando #fic #fiction #fanfic #sw fic #sw fanfic

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arsonistslut · 3 years

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Chapter 13: The Demon's Hand

Jeff didn't know what to make of any of this. Was this his form of walking to the light? Was this all a dying illusion as the stench of his burnt flesh filled the air? Or had a demon truly clawed it's way into his head?

"I'm sure you have..many questions regarding what's happening to you, but right now, that isn't the focus. The future is your focus, Jeffrey. Do you remember that boy you got into a fight with when you were 7? A boy named Cassidy, said something mean about your brother?"

The creature that stood before Woods had an inhumanly deep voice, befitting the fact that it looked like it had the power to smite the earth with a flick of it's wrist.

"Yeah..I broke his nose and knocked 2 of his teeth out with a toilet top lid, right?"

"Surprised you remembered so vividly. I'm sure, then, that you remember how good it felt to fight back? To not be a victim anymore? Well..that catharsis hasn't evaded you since then, has it? Keith Winchester should know by now. Well, there is a way you can rid yourself of all the troubles in your life, and achieve an even greater catharsis, Jeffrey."

"And that would be?"

"There is endless joy in the suffering of others, Jeff. T-"

"You want me to kill people? Are you fucking insane?! The pigs'll know who's started killing people in no time flat!"

The demon let out a chuckle and put a hand on the young adult's shoulder.

"Does it matter? You wouldn't have much else to live for otherwise. I mean..your brother hates you, your parents aren't there for you, school life is hellish..you're a victim, once again. You aren't a victim, are you? There's so much more for you in this life!"

A few seconds felt like an eternity, Jeff going through the options in his head..was he ready to truly abandon the way he lived? His family, the trip to school, the students around him he'd grown to despise..despite the misery of it all, he'd found comfort in the inevitable monotony of everything around him..but he now questioned that bleak future. Why spend his life bathed in existential misery..when he could spend it bathed in the viscera of liars that hid away who they truly were to the world? Why limit himself to a corrupt world's ever-changing definition of right or wrong? He was always the wrong one, the outcast, the freak..the monster. What was stopping him from living up to those monikers?

"Come, take my hand, Jeffrey. We"ll show those cattle the true meaning of happiness."

The demon held out a hand to Jeff, and a smile creeped it's way onto his face as he firmly grasped it's hand.

The next time he woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed. The bandages wrapped around his face burned to the touch, but he was far too weak to move, or do anything about his predicament. The IV drip in his arm did serve to numb the pain somewhat, and in some places of his body, he couldn't feel anything. In a slightly drugged haze, he was barely able to make anything out from beyond the gauze wrapped around his face, but he'd recognize the voices of his parents anywhere.

"I..I just don't understand, I thought Jeffrey would be more responsible than this!"

Carla said to her husband, who looked at his son, and then back at his wife.

"Well, be grateful..he won't be here controlling us anymore."

"But..but what about Liu? He's gonna want to see him, not just wait in the car.."

Jeff could hear his mother slide her face into her own palms..out of sorrow, out of disgust, he couldn't tell.

"Why couldn't he have just died..?" She muttered as she looked at her son, lying in a hospital bed.

"Why can't we just live our own lives...?"

"Sweetheart, don't get like that..I'll go and grab you some coffee, alright?"

"Okay.."

Jeff Sr. rose from his seat to go grab some coffee for his wife from the waiting room, leaving her alone with Jeffrey. Something new was brewing inside of him, unbeknownst to his mother..a rage unlike any other. Holding back the urge to leap out of his hospital bed and strangle the life out of Clara's lungs, staff and burns be damned, was a herculean feat. He knew he had to wait for that moment..that moment of bliss, that moment of freedom.

A week had passed since Jeff's hospitalization, and Liu's mental state was only getting worse and worse. How the hell Randy managed to get away with glassing a classmate of his because of "self defense" was beyond him, and the fact that all the other students went along with this narrative was baffling. Did they really hate Jeffrey that much...? He tightened the scarf around his neck, lost in his own thoughts until he heard the roll of a skateboard behind him. He turned around to find..Randy, of all people. The meeting was strange, because Liu never saw him skateboard..must have some hobbies.

"Randy, I know why you're here. Fuck right the hell off."

"Hey, listen..."

For once..Ellsworth seemed sincere. He glanced around, as if checking for someone else who might hear him, before looking back to Liu.

"I'm sorry. For everything. I didn't care that what I was doing was wrong, and..I should've stopped a lot earlier than I am. I'm truly, truly sorry, Liu. You don't have to forgive me, I just needed to apologize for all the shit that's happened."

The darker side of Liu would probably attacked Randy right then, but the last time that darker side came out, he nearly lost his brother, so he decided to try and see the good in Randy. Before he could skate away, Liu put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's..It's fine, Randy. It really is."

"It...It's all just..fine?"

"There's nothing we can do about it now, may as well just forgive you instead of holding onto it."

And with that, Liu continued back home. He was headed on another date with Natalie soon, so he had to go get ready for that occasion.

Chapter 14: Stargazing

Liu was secretly thanking his lucky stars that Nat had a driver's licence, because lord knows what that officer's expression would be when he found a 15 year old who looked like he belonged on Instagram selling designer clothes or something.

"This the spot, babe?"

"Yeah, you wanna lie in the grass and..stargaze or something?"

"Sure, but no tickle fights, ok?"

"I'm making no promises."

Liu got out of his girlfriend's car and lay down in the nearby grass, quickly pulling her into his arms when she sat next to him. The two sat there in silence for a good while, just..gazing into the stars together. It was one of the best things Liu could've asked for, right now. Everything just seemed so chaotic and out of control, like a whirlwind..so to just sit there in the shade with the girl he loved so dearly was a more than welcome break.

"Hey, Liu.."

"Yeah?"

"Is..everything alright? I mean this has to have been a shitass month for you.."

"Heh, I'm fine..thanks for asking, though. It means a lot."

"What sort of girlfriend would I be if I didn't worry about my baby?"

Liu could feel his worries melt away as he curled up in his lover's embrace, his face quickly turning red.

"What about you, Nat? How've you been?"

"...You're not allowed to tell anyone at school about this, ok?"

Natalie looked Liu in the eyes as she spoke, and he nodded in response. She took a breath to prepare herself, then began to speak again.

"..The rumors about my dad being a piece of shit are true. He's one of those ex-military types who's just psychotic and can't adjust to normal life. Any little problem happens and he's already screaming at me over it like a fucking drill Sargent! He did teach me how to kick people's asses, though, so there is a bit of a silver lining, but being punched over getting a lyric of the US anthem wrong..I doubt that's worth it."

"Jesus..i-is there any way I can help..?"

"Heh..kill him, I dunno."

Natalie couldn't help but crack a smile when Liu looked at her with confusion.

"Babe, I'm joking."

"Oh, right! Eheh..really though, things'll get better, ok? This'll all-"

"Liu, I'm fine. Hey, if anyone needs to hear a spiel right now, it's you. Your brother got set on fire, for Christ's sake."

"That probably isn't anything compared to what you go through..daily, I presume."

"Liu..honey..it's fine, it really is."

Nat gently combed her fingers through Liu's hair to comfort him, and watching his concern expression melt away into one of distracted joy. She didn't know how to feel seeing this..Liu being happy was always something she liked to see, but she desperately wanted to tell him that she truly wasn't ok..she felt on the cusp of losing it, but it burdened others to make them deal with her prolems, her worries...wasn't it?

#creepypasta #jeffery woods #liu woods #jeff the killer #sully #clockwork #zalgo #tw very heavy topics that may hit too close to home #you've been warned

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akfanficlove · 4 years

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“What if I remember?” - #SeblaineWeek2020

Written for Seblaine Week 2020 – Hurt/ comfort

Sebastian had proposed. A week later, he was in an accident, Blaine not knowing if he’d make it and remembering the day he went back to Dalton, met Sebastian again and – in the end – fell in love. This hurt so much when I was even just writing it but I love how it turned out.

He remembers. He knows it happened, yet he can barely believe it. Why is he silently sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to beeping machines when he wants to scream at Sebastian to finally wake up? The hand that’s holding his boyfriend’s for dear life is sweaty. No, wait, not his boyfriend’s – his fiancé’s. It can’t be, it’s only been a week since Sebastian went down on one knee during their vacation in Paris.

Paris, where Sebastian had lived as a child and where he spent six months as an intern in college. Paris, where they wanted to go together after graduation, then after getting their first jobs, then after Blaine’s first show closed on Broadway.

Finally, 2 years after Sebastian had returned home to San Francisco, they finally went there and it was everything Blaine had dreamed about. They were strolling down the Seine late at night, eating crêpes and kissing under the Eiffel Tower, just like Sebastian had promised. And then, on their last night, Sebastian had insisted they’d go to this little restaurant in Montmartre that’s a cute café by day and a funky bar by night, even though they were both tired, so why exactly couldn’t they just order room service and go to bed?

Blaine knew why when Sebastian took his hand, his palms sweaty and shaking a little. “Blaine Anderson”, he said, “you are the most ridiculous person and a pain in my ass. But every day I wake up next to you and for a moment I am so in awe that you are still with me.”

His voice trembled a little and Blaine’s eyes started to fill with tears because, no, he couldn’t mean that, this couldn’t be… “You are stubborn and you drive me insane when I know there’s something bothering you but you brush me off like it’s fine. I hate it when you sing in the shower before I had my morning coffee and hate even more how I could never ever hate it when you’re singing because it’s beautiful. You have this smug smile when you know my arguments are better but your puppy eyes will make me give in anyways and we really need to talk about you not using them for evil purposes like having dinner with your strange public school friends you insist you like.”

Blaine gasps half-mockingly, half self-conscious (Sebastian might have a point about him using that method to get his way).

“All of this should have me running for my life as fast as I can, yet, you are in every way said puppy – one look, one smile and I’m done, Anderson. Actually, thinking about leaving you kind of leaves me shaking with fear because I might be able to survive without you but I would hardly call that living, so I’d really rather not.” Sebastian actually blushed and Blaine was about to yell “yes, I do!” before he even heard the question.

However, Sebastian got down on one knee, holding out a small velvet box with a beautiful simple silver ring with a row of very small black diamonds and asked Blaine to marry him right there in a little restaurant in Paris. It sounds cliché and cheesy but Blaine likes cheesy and he likes Paris and he likes the ring and, hell, yes, he wants to marry Sebastian! For a fraction of a second there’s an image in his head of the boy he used to love, the boy he thought he would marry one day and in another lifetime or universe maybe he would, would have proposed with a big romantic gesture and a moving speech, but here and now, he kissed Sebastian as he slid his finger through the ring.

At home, they threw a little get-together a few days later to break the news to their families and closest friends, both of them still basking in actually doing this, taking this next step together. They wanted to officially tell their fellow ex-Warblers, Blaine’s public school friends Sebastian pretends to dislike (although he knows Sebastian has a soft spot for Marley, likes playing video games with Sam and Sebastian’s relationship with Santana, founded on a deep respect for each other’s wit and snarky banter, Blaine will never understand) and a few other friends on a bigger party next saturday.

Next saturday seems so far away right now. He doesn’t really know what happened, couldn’t listen to what the doctor told him a few hours ago when he stormed into the hospital after a call that began with “Mr. Blaine Anderson? You are the emergency contact for a Mr. Sebastian Smythe. I’m sorry to inform you that there was an accident…”

Everything is a blur now. He went where they told him to go. He moved when the nurses needed some space to change Sebastian’s IV-drip. He laid his head in the crook between Sebastian’s head and his shoulder, held his hand carefully, unable to say anything but “Please don’t leave me…”. He’s been like that for hours.

It’s getting late and visiting hours are long over, one of the nurses obviously feels sorry for him, that’s the only explanation he has why he’s still allowed to be here. He really must look as awful as he feels. His whole body hurts when he moves to get up, not wanting to go but not wanting to cause any trouble for the lovely nurse who let him sit with Sebastian a little longer. He kisses Sebastian’s forehead. He knows, Sebastian doesn’t like this, feels like a little kid when he does it, and maybe Blaine does it on purpose to make Sebastian finally wake up. He remembers fragments now, that the doctor said something about “potential brain damage” and “we just need to give him a few hours, maybe a day or two” and Sebastian “being lucky”. He really wants to believe her, has a deep respect for doctors after seeing some of his friends like Wes and Jeff suffer through med school. So, he hopes she’s right and reluctantly let’s go off Sebastian’s hand.

Turns out, going back to their apartment was not a good idea. Everything around him is Sebastian and when he’s finally in bed, the only thing he can think about is What if?

What if Sebastian doesn’t wake up tomorrow?

What if he wakes up at night, now knowing where he is, what happened and looking for Blaine?

Or what if he wakes up not even knowing who Blaine is? What if what they had is gone now?

Something in Blaine’s stomach doesn’t feel right and he needs to get it out one way or the other. He runs towards the bathroom and makes it just in time before he throws up his breakfast and some of the shitty coffee he had at the hospital. For the first time since the call, he allows himself to break down into tears. He sits on the cold tiles of their bathroom floor, grabbing his curls when the sob’s ripple through his body.

What if Blaine goes back tomorrow and they tell him, Seb will never wake up?

What if they ask him to decide to turn off the machines or believe in wonders?

Oh dear god, what if he actually dies?

Usually, when Blaine is upset, he finds comfort in Seb’s arms and a solution for whatever problem in his analyzing way of thinking. Blaine gets up, washes out his mouth to get rid of the sour taste and makes his way back to the bedroom. He falls down on the mattress and curls up into a ball. He reaches for Sebastian’s pillow and hugs it tight, smelling the faint smell of the cologne he knows Blaine likes, and why? Why did it have to be Seb? Why now? Why doesn’t he wake up already?

Silent tears stream down Blaine’s face, memories flooding his brain: Sebastian laughing because Blaine’s very small mom was hugging him so tight when they told her about the engagement. Sebastian in Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the parks, the ring and his smile. Tears he tries to hide every time they watch “Moulin Rouge” or a Disney classic. Date nights in the park for the 4th July, sitting on a blanket watching the fire works explode over the Golden Gate Bridge. Little moments like them holding hands all the way back to the hotel with their National’s trophy. Their first kiss a few days later when Blaine burned his tongue on scalding hot coffee, Sebastian being there to soothe the ache. All the way back, Blaine’s first day back at Dalton, not officially attending classes yet but in his uniform anyway to try how it would feel. He remembers. He remembers Sebastian starstruck-expression and the hand on his back. He remembers the warmth that was partly because he was so excited to be back and partly because something stirred in his belly he didn’t dare name yet, not back then.

It’s that warmth he craves now. That warmth he wishes he could give Sebastian. He falls asleep with tears drying on his lashes, his body on Sebastian’s side of the bed. He sleeps restlessly but when he does, he dreams about that day at Dalton that changed everything.

It’s 7 a.m. when he slowly wakes up, feeling even more exhausted than when he fell asleep. He just wants to shower and go back to the hospital. Before getting up, he looks at his phone, a little anxious to see a message from the hospital there telling him bad news although it’s a ridiculous thought. They would’ve called if something was wrong, right? Yeah. But they would’ve also called if Seb had woken up, a bitter voice in his head tells him.

After the shower and getting dressed he dials the hospitals number where they tell him visitors were not allowed sooner than 8:30 which leaves Blaine with one more hour to ki– to spend. What he wanted to say is a bad, bad word. A bad, bad word he purposely doesn’t use, afraid he might jinx something. Blaine huffs. Sebastian would so make fun of this, of how Blaine behaves when the doctor’s prognosis was that he would be fine and Blaine wishes more than anything for Sebastian to come home and make fun of him. He’d gladly take a life full of rolling eyes, half-smiles and shaking heads if it meant that Sebastian would just be fine. He loves this man and no God would be cruel enough to take him from him, right?

Blaine sits down on the couch, completely ready with his shoes on and watches to clock on the wall on the left side of their TV tick. He unlocks his phone and scrolls through his pictures.

There are a lot from Paris, one of them in front of the Louvre – it didn’t stop raining this whole day. One of Sebastian in a small café with a French newspaper and an espresso. One of him kissing Sebastian’s cheek out of a sudden and Sebastian’s eyes wide in surprise from when they finally made it up the hill to Sacré-Cœur and enjoyed the view.

Then there are other pictures. Sebastian with his arms slung over Hunter’s and Beat’s shoulder on the night of their housewarming party for their offices of the advertisement agency the founded together. Sebastian, Kitty and Marley dancing on Sam’s birthday party last year, his boyfr– his fiancé’s tie undone and probably too many buttons of his shirt open to be appropriate. Yet, they seemed like they didn’t have a care in the world. A picture of Sebastian and him hugging in front of a huge poster of Blaine’s face on Blaine’s opening night on Broadway. It’s the look in Seb’s face, so proud, so in love, so excited that has Blaine’s heart breaking a little and makes tears sting in his eyes. His thumb brushes over their faces. “Seb, you can’t leave me now…”, he whispers although no one’s there that could hear him.

How he made it to the hospital, he has no idea. His whole body aches and it’s getting worse the closer he gets to the room door. When Blaine opens it, he actually stops breathing, only to let it out in a deep sigh when he finds Sebastian in exactly the same position as he was yesterday. “He looks so fragile”, Blaine thinks and he wants to do nothing but hold his boy in his arms. Maybe that’s why he dismisses the chair and lays down next to Sebastian, curled into his body, careful not to accidently pull out the IV-drip. How often he had found himself in almost exactly this position when they were cuddling in bed after an orgasm or when Blaine’s had this awful cold last winter. Blaine cups Sebastian’s cheek and stroked lightly. During the 5 days of the cold when he thought he might actually die, Sebastian kept him company in bed when he could, took a few days off of work to take care of him, brought him soup and water and tea and advil. And he sang to him, Blaine remembers, the memory might be a little fuzzy but he remembers his soft voice in his ear grounding him. So Blaine starts singing softly, if only to help Sebastian ground himself:

“I still love you

I still want you

I still need you

After all.

For better or worse

Sickness and health

Till death do us part

After all.

Please don’t leave me…”

It must be hours since Blaine has arrived. His voice is starting to get hoarse, his face is wet from tears Blaine couldn’t stop from falling and he feels exhausted. When the song is over, he burries his face in Sebastian’s neck and breathes in before getting up. He needs to go to the bathroom and even though he’s not hungry, he knows he should get something to eat. Before he turns to leave the room he leaves a lingering kiss against Sebastian’s forehead and mumbles “I’ll be right back…”. He walks towards the door.

“You know I hate it when you do that, B.”

Blaine stops in his tracks. He’s afraid to turn back around. What if his brain is playing tricks on him? What if he’s sleep-deprieved and going crazy?

“Makes me feel like a child.”

Blaine turns. Deep green is looking at him. There’s a crocked smile on a beautiful face and Blaine rushes back to the bed and grabs this handsome face. He doesn’t feel the tears of relief but he feels the chains that suffocated him burst in his chest, suddenly it’s easier to breath again. He doesn’t hear himself whisper his name again and again in awe. But he does feel it when Sebastian turns his head a little and winces but kisses his palms.

“Hey…”

Blaine blinks. “Hi… oh my god, Seb, you scared me so much!” He launches himself into his fiancé’s arms with an “I love you” but scrambles to his feet when he hears him groan in pain. “Shit, I’m sorry, Seb, I’m so, so sorry. Wait, let me get a nurse or a doctor, fuck, you must be in so much pain and I– I’m just so glad, you’re awake…” He wipes tears and snot away with the back of his right hand. Sebastian is awake. He’s awake.

Sebastian just smiles at him. “It’s okay, B, I’m okay, I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor, not right now.” He grab’s Blaine’s hand. “Why don’t you lay down again?” He scoots over and Blaine obliges, raveling in the feeling of Seb’s finger’s lacing through his curls. He’s awake.

“Oh, Blaine?” – “Mhm?” – “We have to postpone the party. I am so not giving Hunter the satisfaction of showing up with bruises on this usually perfect mark of beauty…”

Blaine just rolls his eyes and hugs Sebastian tighter even though he hears him hissing in obvious discomfort. Good. That’ll teach Sebastian to never, ever scare Blaine like that again. “I swear to God, Seb, if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll burn your French vintage-writing desk without batting an eye.”

#seblaine week 2020 #seblaine #2020 #blaine anderson #sebastian smythe #sebastian x blaine #hurt #hurt/ comfort

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ragesingoddess · 4 years

Text

Pynch rwrb au

Gansey is the first son of the United States. Adam is his best friend, and also his counselor. He lives with Gansey in the white house (only because he works there; he only accepted after he had graduated and had a reason to stay there)

Before that Adam lived in a small apartment that he was barely able to afford. Gansey of course tried countless times to pursade him to move in with them but Adam was having none of it.

Now Ronan, is the prince of Wales. He hates his brother Declan and after his father (the king) was killed mysteriously his mother became a ghost.

Ronan has had a crush on Adam for 4 years now, ever since he saw him standing next to the fist son. He always thought that the boy looked different, kind of out of place but at the same time he was intrigued by his determined stare.

Adam now claims he hates the arrogant and cocky prince of Wales who keeps his hair buzzed to piss off his brother and got a secret tattoo when he was 16. (in reality tho he always found him pretty, different from the rest of nobles who claimed to care for the people and in reality did nothing to help those suffering.)

They meet at Declan's wedding. Adam is there with Gansey and Gansey's girlfriend, Blue. Ronan is drinking somewhere with Noah, trying to avoid talking with anyone that is not an absolute necessity.

At some point Gansey is off doing his fsotus work or something and Adam is alone and Ronan takes the opportunity to go over and talk to him.

They don't really hit it off. Adam is not willing to let go of his 'I hate the prince' nonsense and he replies to all of Ronan's messy to say the least attemptes to make conversation.

Ronan doesn't know how to communicate™ so he tries to connect with Adam by offending him the best he can. Adam loses his temper, goes to leave, ronan tries to grab his hand, Ronan fails to hold him back and boom. They just kind of destroyed the wedding cake.

It's kind of a mess after that. Gansey is absolutely freaking out because they did just destroy the royal wedding and fuck Adam this is not good for any of us and rumors are starting to rise about the hatred between the kids of the white house and the prince. So of course he makes Adam start a fake friendship with ronan

Ronan is kind of freaking out on his own bassicly. Declan made him accept of course. And well Ronan says yes its not like he cares, or anything. ("Shut the hell up, Noah.")

Long story short Adam comes to visit. Along with Gansey and blue. The do everything they are supposed to, public appearances and all. (Ronan even allows Adam to post a picture on Instagram)

And well Adam is surprised to find out that he doesn't really hate Ronan. And Gansey and blue also get along with Ronan well (Noah is absolutely as heck fangirling "Ronan I can't believe it. You actually made friends.")

They start talking a bit after. Ronan is actually using his phone which earns him a lot of freaked out stares and impossibly loud cries from Noah and Matthew. (Ronan is not only using his phone he is also smiling can you believe)

Slow burn and everything, Ronan is in love Adam is having a gay crisis™ and blue is making bets with Henry about how long will it take for Adam to figure it all out. (hanry can also be a politicians kid what do I know)

It happens on Ronan's birthday. They are all on the palace for the party and then they leave to go celebrate as a friend group and Adam is laughing and even singing karaoke with Ronan who also happens to have a stupid grin on his face. Ronan kisses him when they return to the palace. They stayed outside while the others went to sleep, and Adam looked at him with his burning blue gaze and Ronan was kind of drunk but not drunk enough to not know what he was doing.

Ronan gets inside leaving Adam freaking out alone outside for a solid two hours.

Their flight is scheduled early the best day. Ronan does not show up.

Back on the white house everything is crisis. Adam is freaking out full on rambling on gansey, Henry and blue and trying to make him get his shit together and call Ronan.

Adam does. Ronan does not reply.

When they meet again at a charity event on the white house Adam shoves Ronan into his room and kisses his brains out.

They don't talk about what they are for a while. They make out a lot and they obviously both like each other but they are also idiots. Blue is trying to get Adam's head out of his ass, Noah is trying to get Ronan to just talk with Adam but his feelings while gansey is totally oblivious ("You mean to tell me that all this time they have not been dating?)

Ronan shows Adam the secret forest he used to go as child hidden in the palace's back gardens. Adam tells Ronan about his past. Ronan kisses him.

Chaos ensues, lots of making out in the closets before gansey comes back, lots of blue rolling her eyes every time they bumb their knees together under the table.

Noah makes the group chat of course. And it's a mess. A beautiful mess, really.

Ronan is the one to actually say I love you first.

Adam panics. Not because he doesn't love him back but because his upbringing had lead him to question if he is capable of love in the first place. He freaks out. He doesn't say it back. He also stops responding to ronan's messages.

Ronan is angry. Not because Adam does not love him back but because he doesn't have the guts to speak to him and tell it on his face. He is also so in love with him it hurts and the thought that he possibly just lost him is enough to fuck his mind

Blue tells Adam to get his shit together. Henry agrees. Maybe gansey nods. Adam takes the first place and goes to England.

He tells Ronan about his family some more. The whole truth this time. He cries. Ronan tells him he is an asshole for believing that bullshit his parents tried to make him feel about himself. They kiss (maybe angry kiss a bit what do I know). Adam says I love you back)

From now I'll change it up a bit, because I can

Ronan and Adam don't exchange emails so they don't get exposed. But the rumors start rising because they appear together more and more publicly and in intimate short of ways.

Adam panics. The last thing he wants is to mess up Gansey's mothers campaign. Gansey tells him he doesn't care. If he is really sure about this they will find a way to deal with this in the best possible way. He cares more about Adam than he does about politics. (also Gansey's mom isn't like Alex's. In my headcanon she is not even that dedicated to the cause. Adam cares though. Adam believes they can make a change.)

Ronan does. Not. Care.

Declan is NOT homophobic (Jesus can we stop portraying him as an asshole) he just wants what is best for Ronan, his image and the kingdom. Ronan tells him he is sure. Declan questions his choices (he has his reasons, hive him a break) but he goes along with it.

They don't exactly 'announce' anything. It's not their style. But they don't deny anything either, and when Adam is Ronan's plus one in the single random ass gala he was forced decided to actually go, no one questioned it at all.

Gansey's mother gets elected again. Adam is still Gansey's main counselor. He also just finished his masters and is finally accepting his role and his importance in the white house.

Adam also drives Ronan to Henrietta, to show to him where he was raised. But it's not only the place where the trailer park was. It was also the place where Adam learned to fight for himself, the place where he learned that hard work is the only way to get you where you want to be, the place where he met gansey and blue, the place where he learned to hope. And maybe Adam thinks, as Ronan is kissing his knuckles, some day, he may be coming back.

(i posted this a few months ago as a response to a headcanon but ive been thinking about it lately so im posting it again.)

#pynch #pynch headcanons #raven boys #red white and royal blue #adam x ronan #Adam Parrish #ronan lynch #richard gansey #blue sargent #henry cheng #noah czerny #Trc

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morganaofcamelot · 3 years

Text

If Wishes Came True (Chapter 4)

Title: If Wishes Came True Chapter IV: Killer on the Loose Pt.II

Fandom: BBC Robin Hood

Ships: Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character, Guy of Gisborne/Marian of Knighton, Original Female Character/Original Male Character

Definately an AU - Sir Guy of Gisborne has served the current Sheriff of Nottingham for five years prior to the beginning of the first season, and is considered a part of the family, both by Vaisey and his daughter Valerie. The chapters are from Val’s POV, as she struggles to maintain her youthful innocence in a place that’s all too willing to steal it away from her, and navigate the intrigues of her father. [Many changes from the show, although the fic loosely follows season 1]

Important Note: English is not my first language, so I’d appreciate if you can point out any mistakes I make.

On AO3

Tumblr: Ch I, Ch II, Ch III

Valerie had never seen the guards being so agitated; they ran from corner to corner, checking even the cracks on the walls. That a stone cold killer was hiding in their midst unnerved her; Lady Marian’s stay was also suspicious – Sir Edward was forced into an early retirement, in favor of Vaisey of Nottingham. Maybe her grievances were extended to her person, as well.

The situation laid heavily on Valerie’s soul – on the one hand, she was afraid of the elusive killer who had escaped her father’s justice. On the other, Valerie had made the decision to keep a close watch of Marian. What better way to do that, than to ask for the pleasure of her company in this dire time?

Lady Marian had agreed, and so the two women strolled about with two handpicked guards to protect them should the need arise.

“Your father believes it is Robin Hood is responsible for yesterday’s attack?” Lady Marian asked. Valerie contemplated her answer; the spring air carried the scent of flowers in bloom, and the sunshine felt warm on her face. It was easy to get distracted in such a rare spring morning. Lady Marian seemed to have little patience for it, though. “Lady Valerie,” she said tartly. “Are you not listening?”

Valerie clicked her tongue. “I heard you,” she quipped. “I have thought it over, and again in my head. That Robin Hood is the assaulter, is about the only thing that makes sense.”

Marian was not completely satisfied with her companion’s answer. “Yes, but why? What is it that makes you think he is the culprit?” She pressed.

“Well, I have seen the murderous look in his eyes myself, when he aimed an arrow to my father’s heart.” Valerie offered. “Furthermore, the use of bow and arrow rather gives up his identity. And he knows how to move around this castle unseen. As I said, it makes sense.”

Lady Marian shook her head in disbelief. Why are you so keen on discrediting the facts? Then, Valerie braved a question she wouldn’t otherwise dare to ask.

“You were once betrothed to the man, isn’t that right?”

The older woman paled and Valerie wondered why. It wasn’t a secret, and if it was, it was a poorly kept one. “I-I…Yes. It was a long time ago, and we broke off the engagement when he went to war.”

The younger one lowered her head. “Did you not believe that he would come back?” she asked in a low voice. Her thoughts strayed to Sir Guy, her brother in all but blood. Had she never worried about his well-being while he was off doing her father’s bidding? Had she not cried in the privacy of her bedchamber, when days had gone by and no news of him had reached them?

Valerie had done all these things and more for a man who wasn’t even promised to her. She remembered how her heart ached, making it impossible to sleep. When she was younger, she had told herself that she felt this way because Sir Guy was the closest thing to a brother, and a friend. As of lately, she had found herself to be mistaken.

It was Marian’s voice that brought her back the solid earth and the grim present. “I guess I did not want a man that would choose war over me, and he thought it his duty to release me.”

Yes, Valerie thought. I can understand that.

“May I ask you a question, Lady Valerie?”

She nodded. “Your lord father, he is not particularly fond of women. I have heard him speak with less than favorable terms of them. But what about your mother?” Marian’s inquiry took Valerie by surprise. It was an attempt to change the painful subject of being discarded in favor of warmongering.

“Oh, he loved my mother, there is no question about it. He often told me that the only other woman he would give his heart to would be I. He kept true to his word, even as the fancy ladies lined up, seeking his approval.” Valerie recalled with a smile on her face. A strange time, it was, when her father was first proclaimed a sheriff. He had barely spared them a look.

“What happened to her?” Marian asked with genuine interest. She has lost her mother, too. Valerie reminded herself.

This was an old, painful memory Valerie tried to conjure. She was burning with fever at the time, and she was really young. She only remembers her mother’s coughs, and the blood that trickled from her mouth.

“She suffered a very bad case of consumption,” Valerie started. “I was four or five, at the time and suffering from this malady myself, although my bout was much milder. She died a few weeks after, while I was still bedridden, but well on the road of recovery.”

Marian offered her sympathies. “I never got to know my mother,” she said, sadness heavily laced in her voice. “She died from childbed fever.

“I am very sorry,” Valerie offered, patting Marian’s back. Marian’s answer was a smile. “Shall we start back? Lunch will be served soon.”

“Yes,” Marian said. “I am very hungry.” A giggle escaped her, and Valerie mimicked her, musing on her feelings about this very strange woman. She has charm in abundance, Valerie’s mind supplied. No wonder Guy is so taken with her.

They made their way to the castle courtyard, their hands adjoint, their spirits a little lighter. It all changed when they neared the steps.

The familiar woosh of an arrow flying was heard. A grunt of pain from behind them; one of the guards had been shot straight at the neck, the wooden shaft protruding. Valerie saw him gurgle on his own blood, and turned her head away. She did not like the sight of blood. Their other guard drew his sword, but he was rendered useless when another arrow hit him on his sword arm. He screamed in pain and dropped his sword.

“Go!” Valerie shouted to Marian, grabbing the sword of the dead guard. “Now,” and the women raced up their stairs, holding their skirts. “We should split,” Valerie suggested. “I’ll go this way.” Without waiting for a response, she ran. She just hoped Marian would know to hide, since she isn’t the killer, apparently.

The sight of a guard a few paces away was a welcoming sight. “Guard!” She shouted with all the authority her status gave her – she was after all, the lady of this castle. “Raise the alarm. Hood is here!” She was frantically panting, her breath winded from all the running, and her chest burning from the spring dust. She had survived consumption, but long-lasting effects still remained with her.

The guard had not move, instead he just examined her. She was close enough to him by now, her mind slowly settling in. “Are you deaf? I told you to sound th-“

The gleam of steel flashed before her eyes. The guard was raising his sword to her. By instinct, the forgotten blade in her hand was raised to block the violent assault. He seemed surprised, as if he was not expecting her to be able to defend herself. She thanked Guy and his lessons, they might just keep her alive for a few moments longer.

Taken aback as he was, he was also quite determined to kill her. Valerie used the little time she had to correct her stance, to better face the traitor. She hadn’t been taught any offensive moves, but a loyal guard might come to help her. Then, a flurry of attacks hit her one after the other. Most she parried, albeit with much strain, others she blocked, and some slipped by her, despite her best of efforts. Still, there was no sight of help.

She held her sword with two hands now, because her right hand – her sword arm, Guy’s voice supplied – was tired and burning from the exertion. This was not as she had practiced in the abandoned side of the stable with Guy. He had been going easy on her, all this time.

Her breathing was heavy, too heavy. It made her head with swim. Still, she could not give up now. She was Vaisey’s daughter, and if there was one thing her father had taught her was to never give u-

She felt the blunt of the blade hit her straight on the side of her head. She was engulfed in darkness before she hit the ground.

***

When she came around, she was lain on a very uncomfortable kind of bed – too narrow, with no mattress or pillows. Her head ached as if the whole castle had fallen upon her and the buzzing of voices didn’t help.

A grunt escaped, attracting their attention.

Her father’s voice was the first she heard closely to her ear – somebody had come to save her, after all. “Hush, darling, you will be alright. The physician had assured me. Just some cuts and bruises, is all.”

“Father,” she said and opened her eyes. There he was, standing upon her, his hands cradling hers, the concern written all over his face.

Just as her head was relishing the sudden quiet, the thunderous voice of Guy was demanding answers.

“What is going on here? Three people have been killed under your nose!” he demanded. Curious, Valerie raised her head a little – it was Sir Marcus that Guy was raging against.

The master-at-arms was cool in his response. “It is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?!” Guy was now seething with the eerie quiet menace. “Valerie’s life was in peril and you call that unfortunate? It is incompetent!”

“And what have you achieved, so far?” the other man challenged. “You have discovered a food storage, some layabout outlaws roaming the woods, a few hastily ridden off horses, but Hood is still on the loose.”

“At least I have found something! And I have not endangered the lives of those in this castle”

“Stop it, you couple of women!” Her father hissed. “Be rest assured, Gisborne, that Sir Marcus will be held accountable for this, but not now. This is not the time to fight amongst ourselves.”

Sir Marcus bowed his head and left the room. Sir Guy was offered a goblet of wine from Lady Marian. He silently thanked her and drank it with one long gulp. “Lady Valerie,” he said, approaching the stretcher. “How are you feeling?” His voice was not devoid of emotion, but in her state she could not figure it.

“I-I,” her throat was dry. Realizing this, Sir Guy passed her the water from the table. Her father helped her sit uptight, his touch tender. She took small sips at first, but her thirst was awakened soon. She emptied the goblet. Better, she thought. “Cuts and bruises, Sir Guy.” She said slowly. He exchanged a glance with the sheriff, which Valerie did not miss. “Although I feel like my head has been split in two.”

Her father hastily assured her that everything was alright and that she should rest. The physician had declared her in good health, and that tomorrow morning he would examine her again and then order her to her chambers.

It felt too good to be true. “What about the guard that attacked me?” She asked, remembering his passion in seeing her dead. “Was he an associate of Hood?”

Sir Guy wanted an answer to this, as well, she knew. He had been out with his men chasing the blasted outlaw. “He certainly sympathizes with his cause, but he hasn’t been very forthcoming insofar. I hope that now Gisborne is back, he can make the man talk.”

The black-clad knight nodded in agreement. “On my way, my lord.” He took Valerie’s hand and kissed it in a true gallant fashion. Then he retreated, sparing an apologetic look at Marian.

“Was he truly a guard, my lord, or was he an impostor?” Marian’s question held some suggestion in it.

From the way her father pondered on it before giving his answer, made Valerie believe that none of them had thought of it so far. “Sir Marcus will undoubtedly figure it out – after all, he is the one responsible for every recruit. Him – and the Captain of the Guard.”

So, Valerie concluded, nobody had thought of it, so far. “If he is a corrupt guard, then he should hang, isn’t that right, father?”

He reassured her. “He will hang either way.”

Her head hurt from all the thinking she had to do. If only he’d been a little more forthcoming with information, she wouldn’t strain her mental capacity that much. “Which means that you are keeping him alive, in hopes that he would give you names. Names, like his likeminded peers and so on.”

The sheriff smiled. His daughter was smart, indeed. “Yes, my darling daughter. This is exactly what we’re hoping for.”

She found it in her heart to smile. The left side of her face wasn’t cooperating as much as she’d like to. “But, how would be able to tell whether the people he gives up are genuine peers of his? He could easily name the most loyal to you, in hopes of weakening you and the defense of this castle. He will still hang, but he’ll take a few men with him.”

The shock on their faces was evident. The sheriff recovered quickly, however. Before he made some speech or another, Valerie spoke again.

“Can I have a mirror? There’s something seriously wrong with my face.”

Her father agreed with a grim, tight smile. It didn’t bode well for her, she knew. Lady Marian produced a handheld mirror, gingerly offering it.

Valerie’s fingers felt weak, but she closed them around the hilt all the same. Steadying her breaths, she dared to look at her reflection.

The moment she gasped, her father placed his hands on her back, soothing her. It was a most hideous sight to behold and as soon as her gaze lingered on the large mauve bruise that covered most of the left side, the swelling accompanying it, and the little scar that above her eyebrow, where the sharp edge of the sword had met with her head, a stream of tears fell down her face. Lady Marian quickly took the mirror off her hand and her father embraced her.

“Hush, my darling,” he was almost pleading. “It will soon pass.”

And to think that Sir Guy had seen her like this…

She wished that she could kill that guard with her bare hands. She wished that he could inflict the same pain upon him. She took solace in the thought that her father would deliver justice on her behalf.

#robin hood bbc #bbc robin hood #guy of gisborne #guy of gisborne x original female character #*mine

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ottelis · 4 years

Photo

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv. v.

05—eliott, alone

tw: references to suicide attempts and suicidal ideation

july 22nd, 1968

05:34

caen, france

Eliott hasn't slept a wink; his whole body is heavy but his eyelids aren't. He hasn't felt well since his panic attack the other day, and it's only gotten worse as the anniversary of his attempt has drawn nearer. He swears his mood crashed as soon as the clock struck midnight. He swears that the night grew darker, that the shadows in his room grew larger, that the moon began to hide her face, that the whisperings in his mind grew colder, more menacing. His blood has run cold ever since. His body has curled in on itself, his sight has been ever so slightly out of focus, his teeth have dug into his lip, his skin has been riddled with goosebumps. He's silently cried out to the wind whispering outside, the crickets singing, the waves sighing, but they haven't responded to him. He screams, wails, but they're drowned out by the music of the night that has rarely been sweet to his ear.

So he's left to suffer in silence as that night plays over and over again. He watches himself reorganize his bookshelf over and over, every possible arrangement never making him feel better, whole. He watches himself write so furiously in his notebook he's puncturing and tearing the pages, hoping that writing down his thoughts will make them go away. He watches himself pace around his room, tearing out his hair, biting off his nails, chewing on the collar of his shirt to keep himself from crying out and disturbing his mother. He watches himself melt into a puddle, crying so hard he can barely breathe. He watches realization fill his eyes as he thinks about how could easily he could end all his pain. He watches himself dry his eyes, take a deep breath, then write two letters: one for his mother, one for Lucas. He watches himself leave the letters on his mother's nightstand, on Lucas's windowsill. He watches himself walk forward on the shore, the waves lapping at his ankles, then his knees, then his chest, then his mouth. He hears, so distantly and yet so clearly, Lucas call his name.

He squeezes his eyes shut, covers his ears, but it does nothing. He can't escape it.

Tears slip out of the corners of his eyes, but no sobs rip out of his sore throat. It's a quiet, defeated crying; tired, resigned. It doesn't shake his shoulders, or make his heart and lungs quiver. He's frozen, and the only thing he can really feel is the tears on his face. He can feel the salt carve out little trails on his face, chip away at his cheekbones, hollow out his cheeks, burn in the cuts in his lips from his teeth, fill his nostrils until he almost can't remember what fresh air smells like. Perhaps he's become the sea—salty, eroding, despondent, crashing. Perhaps he's flooding his room, rising until he destroys the house and finds its way to the water outside. Perhaps he's returning to that fatal idea he had two years ago—becoming one with the water, becoming at least one drop in the ocean.

He takes the deepest breath he can. He's not going to do something like that again. Not when it only caused more pain than he could've ever anticipated. He can stay in his room, stay in his bed, and try and calm his tears before they flood. Then he'll be okay. He'll be okay.

He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, hoping it will somehow force the tears back behind his eyes, back into the lump in his throat. He keeps breathing, keeps forcing. Keeps breathing, keeps forcing. He'll be okay.

He pulls his hands away, and his already fuzzy vision is covered in bruises. Purple and green sunspots, wide and growing and smarting. They begin to fade after a few minutes of waiting and trying to blink it away. Their edges start melting into the real world, and they're tinged with yellow. Then they disappear. He'll be okay.

He sighs, trying to focus on the feeling of his lungs filling and emptying, watching his own chest rise and fall. He holds his breath to feel that burn, that panic deep in his lungs and the dizzy alarm in his mind. He experiments with lengths of inhales and exhales, listening to the sound of the air escaping. He tries to tell himself that he's not a waste of air, and that he's grateful for every gulp he gets, no matter how big or small. He's not sure if it works. But breathing is a good distraction. It's slow. And he can control it. And it helps his mind and heart slow down. It makes his eyelids a little heavy, then heavier and heavier. He'll be okay. He has to be.

He finally, finally drifts into a deep, but dreamless sleep.

july 22nd, 1968

10:30

caen, france

Eliott wakes to the gentlest shaking from his mother. His eyes open slowly, and his vision is clear again. He sees his mother kneeling by his bed, her tired yet kind face smiling at him feebly.

"I'm sorry to wake you up, honey," she says, her voice quiet and sweet. "But I wanted to check up on you. Are you okay?"

"No," he answers quietly. "But I think I'll be okay if I just stay in here. I'm safe here."

She sighs, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Her hand is shaking. "Okay. Just let me know if you need anything. Call me from up here or come downstairs if you find me. I'll be there."

He manages a weak smile. "Thank you, Maman."

"I love you," she tells him, her thumb wiping away a tear he didn't know escaped his eye. "I love you more than I can comprehend."

Eliott wants to tell her that he loves her, too, but the words can't get around the lump in his throat.

"I wish I could take all this away from you," she adds, her voice suddenly thick with tears. "If I could drag the sun and moon across the sky so today could be over in the blink of an eye, I would. You know that, right?"

"I know," he chokes out, his tears beginning to pour faster.

"Do you want me to stay in here with you?" she asks. "So you don't have to be alone today?"

The brain is alone. I'll be alone regardless. Even when your fingertips brush my forehead, I can't quite feel it. It's like some other body is feeling it for me.

He sighs, shaking his head. "I'll be okay. I have my books. I have all my art supplies. I just need to wear through the day. I just need to wait it out."

"And you can start healing again," she says with a wobbly smile.

"I still haven't felt any of that healing yet, Maman," Eliott admits, his voice even quieter and weaker. "Maybe I've felt it for a second, but I swear every time I get close to it, something else happens and I don't feel it anymore." He chokes on the last few words, drowned out by a sob. "And... I don't think I healed at the institution. Not like I needed to."

He sees tears rolling down his mother's cheeks, and it only makes him cry harder. He's broken her heart again. His poor, sweet, lonely maman...

"I'm sorry, Maman," he sobs, throwing his arms around her and pulling her close. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't apologize, honey," she whispers in his ear. "You don't need to."

He bites back his argument, trying to hold onto his mother more tightly, trying to let out every single tear stinging his eyes and stopping his throat. He tries to push back the same thoughts he had two years ago. He tries to be better, to be well. He tries.

He doesn't know how long he cried in his mother's arms, and he doesn't remember falling asleep again.

july 22nd, 1968

17:17

caen, france

Eliott wakes to the light of the setting sun filtering into his room. He doesn't feel that intense, debilitating sadness he did before, but he feels fatigued. He hopes he can just fall back asleep until morning, and then the day will finally be over. He'll be okay.

I'll be okay.

He sits up slowly, taking in the golden light that's surrounding him. It's beautiful, comforting. A step closer to night, and a step closer to day. He holds out his hand, watching the light color and warm his skin. But then he can't help but think of the color of Lucas's skin that day, the day before his father died. He thinks of Lucas's skin the day he drowned, soaking wet and deathly pale and quickly losing its heat. He thinks of Lucas's skin the first time he touched it in almost two years, soft but almost unfamiliar, a little cooler than usual. He thinks of what would happen if he touched Lucas again, even if it was an innocent, accidental brush of fingertips. He wonders if the day he came home will be the last memory his skin has of Lucas, memories of shaking hands and trembling lips.

He moves his hand away, returning it to the shadows; to the cold and the dark. He sighs and rests his head against the wall, letting his eyes close. Of course his thoughts come back to Lucas. Of course once his intense, frightening emotions subside, his heart calls out to Lucas for comfort. Of course. When his tears dried after he left the hospital when his father died, he tapped on Lucas's window and fell into his arms. When he turned around as the waves were about to take him, his whole body told him to go to Lucas and hold onto him and never let go. When the daze from the shocks would finally fade away, he would spend hours in his room staring at Lucas's picture and writing him more letters. When those two long years of being at the institution passed, he dreamt of meeting Lucas again and scooping him up in his arms and kissing him until the world ended. And when he's almost weathered another anniversary, another year, he remembers Lucas and worries himself to death if memories will be all he has left of him.

He startles when he hears the doorbell ring, his eyes flying open. He sighs, closing his eyes again and lying back down. He's sure it's one of his mother's friends, or some sort of salesperson. He hears their front door open, and he hears windchimes and the waves—

Lucas.

Eliott's breath catches in his throat, his heart suddenly racing.

Lucas!

He quickly climbs out of his bed, throwing his door open and rushing down the stairs. He can see the light spilling onto the floor from the open window, and he sees a familiar shadow stand out against it.

Lucas!

He reaches the bottom of the stairs, and he finally looks up and sees him.

Lucas visibly tenses when he locks eyes with Eliott, quickly averting his gaze to the floor. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, and his lower lip trembles the slightest bit. He looks so much younger, like he was a scared, little 16-year-old boy again. It reminds Eliott of the way Lucas used to act around him right before they kissed for the first time. Lucas was a nervous wreck, had been betrayed by his own heart. Eliott remembers Lucas telling him all the horrible things he felt back then, and he feels a deep twinge in his chest that he might have made Lucas feel that way again, that's he's hurt him again.

Lucas looks up at him then, his face neutral but with a world, a nightmare behind his eyes. "Eliott," he says, his name quiet and sweet slipping off Lucas's tongue. He takes a breath, nods once, then barely smiles as he says, "I'm ready."

#ttmc #hush bailey #my writing

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