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redphlox · 3 years

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Dabi's fear of feelings and connections

Dabi is a walking contradiction; he says he doesn't care about anyone, but his flames, which are linked to his emotions, demonstrate otherwise when Twice is killed. Dabi brushes off the news that Natsuo could have died because of him but still refers to him affectionately as Natsu-kun. Touya went around calling Endeavor out for neglecting his children but still trained to regain his approval and attention anyway. He lashed out at baby Shouto, admitted Shouto had done nothing wrong, and then attacked him again years later. He cries blood while thinking about his family but doesn't go home to them or change his actions which hurt them even more. Dabi wants to destroy hero society for a better future but it's obvious he doesn't plan to live long enough to see that future.

The gaps between his actions and his words are a result of dissociation and repression. It's not that Dabi is emotionless. Actually, he feels too much and he's afraid of his feelings because they've done nothing but hurt him emotionally and physically. He literally almost burned to death the one time he had a burst of emotion on Sekoto Peak and in order to prevent a repeat of that, he operates under the flawed notion that safety lies in repressing his feelings and pushing people away. He lies to himself and others and therefore cannot reconcile with his true self and can’t trust others.

In this meta I'll discuss how Dabi deals with his unprocessed feelings of betrayal and neglect by denying himself connections with both his inner wounded child and those around him. I'll also address a few misconceptions surrounding Dabi because dismantling them is key to understanding him. Contrary to popular belief, he does not want to kill his father, he never wanted to be a hero for his own sake, and he doesn't hate Shouto or his family. At its core, Touya's hurt stems from discovering that his relationship with his father wasn't based on unconditional love. This realization destroyed his sense of self so much it caused him to start fearing his own feelings and being close to others because of the link between his emotions and his self-destructive quirk.

To understand Dabi we have to understand Touya. In 291 we see through Endeavor's flashback that Touya was eager to train under him and carry his legacy. It's implied by the fact they’re working on ultimate moves that not only is Touya a willing, eager participant but that the two have been training together for quite some time. In 301 we learn that after Touya's quirk started hurting him Endeavor not only abandoned the training regime but also abandoned Touya both emotionally and physically. Instead of using the time he spent training Touya to help Touya find a new hobby or purpose in life, or just hanging out with his kid, Endeavor chooses to remove himself from Touya’s life. When Touya confronts him about the change of routine, Endeavor is seen putting on his jacket and leaving the home, his body turned away from his son.

Maybe Endeavor had errands to run, but my point is that he was in Touya’s life one minute and then gone the next. Touya says so himself: why did Endeavor change his mind all of a sudden? The abrupt change in attitude was jarring for a 4-5 year old to handle. To Touya, training = love, so he felt compelled to keep training and demonstrate his worthiness despite the fact that his quirk was hurting him. To Touya, the pain was worth it if it meant hanging out with his dad again.

But why? Well, Touya was Endeavor's #1 fan, genuinely so. His admiration and fondness for his father was genuine, and he didn't question the triumphant look on Endeavor's face when Touya said he wanted to learn the ultimate move. Before his quirk started burning him, Touya had no idea he was born for his father's ulterior motives. He had no reason to question his father's attention. Touya lived under the impression his bond with his dad was genuine and special, and he probably felt lucky that his father was willing to share something so important to him (heroism). Even after the training stops and Endeavor stops paying attention to Touya, Touya still wears his merch and vies for his attention. Most kids see their parents as larger than life and Touya was no exception. Keigo Takami admired Endeavor the hero, and Touya Todoroki admired his father who just so happened to be the hero Endeavor. Since being a hero was such a big deal for Endeavor, it was a big deal for Touya.

But that's where Touya's story becomes tragic. His father is a flawed, flawed man with many insecurities and fallacies that he pushes onto his family. I’ll get to those in a moment, but as intelligent and observant Touya is to catch on that Endeavor never set out to marry to become a father, he is too young to separate himself from his father’s expectations. Touya realizes he was born for a purpose and Touya will be damned if he doesn't fulfill that purpose even if he knows it's wrong. His father's ‘love’ meant that much to him. For Touya, it's not about becoming a hero for the glory. It was about his relationship with his father because, as I mentioned earlier, Touya was his #1 fan in the sense that he loved Enji just for being his dad. There were no conditions tied to that. “You are my dad, and I love you.”

But that wasn’t a sentiment that Touya felt in return, and that hurt Touya. He internalized he wasn't good enough, that something about him was inherently wrong. But more than that, his world came tumbling down - he felt betrayed and lied to: his father didn't love him like Touya needed him to, and this truth destroyed him. Their relationship was a lie, a farce, and it hurt so much Touya became obsessed with not hurting anymore because he couldn’t get away from it.

Touya’s motivation to become a hero didn't rise from being inspired by All Might like Shouto. Touya’s thought process wasn’t "I want to be a hero to help others or be like All Might" like Deku. No, Touya only wanted to be a hero because he wanted his father to be proud of him for surpassing All Might. Notice that Touya's obsession with beating All Might slowly diminishes from “I can surpass All Might” to “I can surpass All Might like Shouto, too” to just “look at me, Endeavor.” It was never about being a hero per say, but about his relationship with his father. Touya realized that Endeavor isn't his father first, but a hero, and he understands that he has to be a hero too to fit into his father's world. Even upon realizing that his father was using him, Touya still wanted to be part of his life, still wanted that bond. Touya, in his desperation to be loved and accepted again, could look past his father's selfishness as long as he regained that approval. Touya could pretend the relationship was real as long as he stopped feeling so unlovable.

This is unhealthy thinking, of course. Even if Touya somehow managed to regain Endeavor's approval, the relationship would still be one-sided and dissatisfying because he wouldn't be able to ignore the truth. But, this is how he rationalized his insistence to keep training in his 4-5 year old mind and this line of thought stuck with him as he grew up just as those feelings of inadequacy never left him.

This is precisely why Natsuo's drowsy "can't you go talk to our sister?" hurt so much. Touya was already emotionally fragile, and hearing that felt like being rejected all over again when it was actually Natsuo just trying to sleep. Touya was hypersensitive to any words or actions that could be interpreted as dismissive. His trauma wouldn't listen to logic that Natsuo was 8 and too young to understand, that he was tired - no, Touya's brain said, you're being rejected again! This is also why he also stormed away crying from Fuyumi after she expressed her concern for him.

In Touya’s mind, why couldn't anyone just agree with him that he was good enough? He heard "your dad's right and you're not good enough so why try" not "I care about you, your father is wrong, and I don't want you to keep getting hurt" whenever Rei tried to get him to stop training because that's the message he got from his father, too. Nevermind that it infuriated Touya that his mother could stand there and preach to him when, from his perspective, she couldn’t take her own advice. All Endeavor ever did was teach him to turn up the heat, so why should it matter that doing just so hurts him? Touya didn't understand NOT training his quirk because he had been taught that raising his firepower was ideal in all situations. Those two statements didn't make sense to a 4-5 year old, a 13 year old, and it still doesn’t make sense as a 24 year old.

To take Endeavor's lack of self awareness a step further, because it's important to understand Endeavor to fully understand Dabi, Endeavor has yet to realize his own inherent worth. He doesn't have to prove anything to his family, especially his kids. They love him unconditionally, without special reason aside from the fact that he's theirs and he's himself. However, Endeavor is so obsessed with proving himself that he doesn't realize he never had to, and he projects this onto his children. They must prove themselves by winning the genetic lottery, by being useful to his plans, by surpassing All Might.

The irony that to be a great father he doesn't have to be a hero at all is ugly because Endeavor has no identity outside of being a hero. Endeavor has said before he wants to be a good hero and father to make Shouto proud, but he fails to realize he already had this in Touya all those years ago and it still left him unsatisfied. The issue isn’t his role as a hero, it’s his inner self. In 301 Endeavor literally reaches out to Touya to talk him out of training and hurting himself, and Touya allows his father to touch his shoulders because he wants a bond with his father - any bond. Shouto, on the other hand, wouldn't allow Endeavor to touch him in 167 and slaps his hand away because he doesn’t want Endeavor’s approval. Endeavor doesn't realize Natsuo carries deep abandonment and neglect issues because he wanted to be accepted by his father too (light novel #5) but was ignored. Endeavor doesn't realize he was always good enough by default and that by projecting onto his kids and trying to be the top hero he’s doing the opposite of what he wants. He just keeps pushing away his family.

It’s important to point out Endeavor’s illogical thinking because Touya learned some of these same ideas. Touya repeatedly tries to prove himself without realizing that he was always good enough by default. The problem wasn’t his quirk or his body, but his father’s flawed thinking and self-worth issues. Now as an adult, Dabi is selfish because he's Endeavor's son and emobidies his most negative characteristics. Dabi thinks of his flames as Endeavor's, and he thinks of himself as an extension of Endeavor because that's how Endeavor set him up for life. Touya has no identity to fall back on after his father casts him aside. He was supposed to be Endeavor 2.0, but now that title is Shouto’s. Dabi doesn’t hate Shouto as a person, but he has tricked himself into believing Shouto is their father’s puppet. Shouto is a doll being used by their father with no self agency, and Dabi is going to break all of Endeavor’s toys. It’s nothing personal against Shouto, it’s just Shouto’s bad luck that he happens to be Endeavor’s masterpiece. This is why Dabi doesn’t hurt Shouto when they first meet at the training camp, and why Dabi stops attacking Shouto after Endeavor passes out - it’s not about Shouto. It’s about Endeavor, and breaking Endeavor. Touya is still there trying to be part of his father’s world, only this time not as a hero but as a villain who will end his own suffering. He doesn't want Endeavor to die, he just wants him to suffer, to ruin his dreams. Dabi thinks of it as justice.

But because Touya is still there, there is still that goodness in him, too. His connection to Fuyumi and Natsuo is still there, repressed and compartmentalized. It’s why he calls them affectionately as Fuyumi-chan and Natsu-kun. Touya’s pain is so great he has decided he’d rather end it than to carry on and look elsewhere. He's stuck, rightfully so. He recognizes his mother is a flawed person and ultimately doesn’t blame her for being a victim - she could have done more for her son, but he still sees her and his other siblings, even Shouto, as people who fell victim to Endeavor’s abuse who don't challenge their situation. Dabi sees himself as someone who does stand up to the abuse but doesn’t realize he still wants his father’s attention. He's always wanted it. That's why he went around at 13 condemning his father's treatment of his children but still trained to prove himself. This is part of the reason he became a villain.

Not to mention that Dabi literally can't cry. He has no way to release those emotions, so instead of trying to let them out, he pushes them down. But that doesn't work and is detrimental in the long run. In 290-294 we saw Dabi's flames burn so hot during his confrontation with Endeavor and revealing himself as Touya that his burns have spread. Dabi is afraid of his feelings because of their connection to his flames, but he also uses his feelings to his advantage. He wants to go out in an inferno along with Shouto just to hurt Endeavor and put an end to his own suffering and Endeavor's career. This is why Dabi doesn't bother calming himself down or denying that he never forgot how he was treated when he lived at home. Dabi became emotional in that battlefield, smiling maniacally instead of crying because he physically can't cry. In his mind, if his feelings are going to destroy him, he might as well use them to prove a point. After all, he has experience being used. It's why he was born.

I'm not saying any of these actions or thoughts are healthy or correct or condoned, by the way. Trauma responses don't make logical sense and usually aren't healthy. Knowing how the mind responds to trauma, it's understandable that Touya still wanted his father's attention even if it was abusive. In fact, this is how children often respond to abuse. Their caretaker/parent is all they know and they cling to these figures. Often times when authorities try to remove a child from their abusive parents, the child doesn't want to go because this parent is all they know and they do feel like they love their parent/caretaker. I’m not saying the authorities got involved in this case, because obviously they didn’t, but this same mentality of abused children can be applied to Touya. Touya, in his four year old mind, probably convinced himself that if he was good enough everything would go back to how it used to be.

So, to sum up Dabi’s character, of course he doesn't make any sense. He’s still that hurt 4-5 year old who is trying to protect himself from ever getting hurt like that again while still wanting his father’s validation. Of course he doesn’t want to get close to anyone, not even the League. He doesn't want to be vulnerable or let people in or form connections because the last time that happened he was let down, forsaken, and it hurt so much it literally made him lose control of his quirk to the point he almost died. When Twice is killed, Dabi consoles himself by saying he didn't care anyway, all to prevent another emotional fire. Dabi is a master of compartmentalizing and boxing away his feelings - this is probably why, 310 chapters into BNHA, we have yet to have a few chapters in his POV or his backstory. He's disconnected from himself. He knows his plot to get justice will hurt his siblings and mother and to live with himself and move forward he represses those feelings.

Because of his father not showing up on Sekoto peak, Dabi has to live with physical disabilities due to his scars and memories of burning alive. He doesn't want to go through that again so he lies to himself that he doesn't care about anyone or anything. He denies that he's still in pain while simultaneously seeking validation of his pain. He acts like he doesn't care about his family but still calls them affectionate names. He acts like he hates Endeavor and calls him by his name but still wants his attention. He decided long ago that he would die destroying Endeavor's career because that was the thing Endeavor cares about most of all in this life. It's a "you hurt me so I'll hurt you" mentality. He has tricked himself into thinking this is justice, failing to realize this won't make him feel better if he doesn't die by his own hand along the way.

Dabi is full of resentment and spite, both of which take root from feelings of abandonment, betrayal, and the loss of a purpose and the realization that he wasn't born to be loved for who he was but as a tool for his father. The first betrayal he suffered was in the form of realizing his father didn't love him genuinely, and this was identity-breaking for him. He never recovered from it. The second betrayal, the reinforcer, was his father not showing up to Sekoto Peak. Since then, Dabi is reliving his trauma over and over again the more he uses his quirk and the more he faces Endeavor. To be saved, Dabi needs to accept that he is loved unconditionally and needs to be validated that he was right to feel thrown aside and used.

#dabi #touya todoroki #toya todoroki #shouto todoroki #shoto todoroki #bnha #bnha meta #my meta #endeavor

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salemwritesxx · 3 years

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hard shell, soft core

summary: Y/n seems emotionless and stoic, but once Tanjiro comes into the headquarters all beat up, people see a different side of him.

w.count: 1k

content warning: fluff

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“Kamado Tanjiro is back again.”, you heard one of the Kakushi say as they walked underneath the tree you had been resting on and that was all you needed to hear.

“Ah…”, squeezing one eye shut in pain and clenching his teeth, Tanjiro did everything not to let another agonizing sound escape his throat. One hand was gripping the fabric over his ribs that were broken yet again, the weak voice from Zenitsu beside him asking if he was okay however startled him a bit.

“I am okay, don’t worry about me.”, he faked his smile to reassure his friend everything was alright, even though it felt like someone stabbed him over and over again.

“Y/n-san! I am sorry, please wait outside, they are being trea-“, however, the serious Kanzaki couldn’t talk further when she saw the expression on your face, something she had never seen on your usually emotionless face before, thus you simply walked past her.

The moment the sliding door opened, Kamado looked up, he knew you were close-by due to your scent, but seeing you so suddenly surprised even him. “Y/n-“, though, just like Kanzaki, he couldn’t continue when you walked towards him with that worried expression that inevitably made his heart almost leap out of his chest.

“Tanjiro!”, before he could raise his voice, your strong arms were wrapped around him, hugging him tightly, almost so tightly that it hurt his ribs and other injuries, but in that moment, he didn’t care when he buried his fingers into your clothes to hold on.

“Y/n… You’re here…”, he mumbled, scarlet eyes closed as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, though your grip around him only got stronger – Tanjiro could smell the faint scent of anxiety and worry. And yet, he whispered, “Y/n…I can’t breathe…”

“I’m sorry, Jiro… Just… a little longer.”, your voice was never weak or even small, but in that moment, seeing your lover so hurt and injured, you couldn’t care less if you weren’t manly or perceived as “weak”.

“Y/n…”, a mere whisper escaped his lips once more. Slowly, he managed to pull his arms back so he could gently touch your face with his scarred, calloused hands, making his heart skip a beat when you leaned into the soft touch and your hand rested on top of his to squeeze it.

“Tanjiro… You really… love to worry me, don’t you?”, a small smile flitted across your lips as you also reached out to touch his cheek that was covered in small scratches. Kamado was smiling himself, a real one, not forced, not faked, even though he was hurting, he was so happy to see you. His only answer was a whispered “I’m sorry, Y/n.” before he pulled you in to capture your lips for a sweet kiss.

A sudden gasp then brought you both back to reality though, only now realizing that Zenitsu, Kanzaki, Naho, Sumi and Kiyo were all staring at you two exchanging such intimate looks and touches. All of them red as tomatoes and Zenitsu just stuttering something incoherent as he pointed at you two with his shaky hand.

“Y/n-san…I know you are worried, but the girls need to continue to tend to their wounds.”, Kanzaki was the most composed as she said that, though the blush on her cheeks remained.

“Hm.”, was the only thing you answered as you wrapped your arms around Tanjiro again, who was now laughing a bit, since you were so stubborn and holding onto him – the emotionless demon slayer being so clingy melted his heart.

“Y/n-san!”, Aoi was persistent, but still polite, knowing your position, however, even though you were a great and respectable demon slayer didn’t mean you could hinder the girls from doing their job.

“Kanzaki-san, it’s okay.”, Tanjiro then said as he also wrapped his arms around your strong chest, “I am sure Y/n won’t bother anyone.”

“Still…”, she seemed like she was about to give in, though you didn’t let it get that far when you stood up.

“She is right, Jiro.”, taking his calloused hands, you squeezed them softly, another small smile on your lips – that made the girls blush because they had never seen such a gentle expression on your usually stoic face before – “Even though I want to stay by your side, I wouldn’t want to prevent them from doing their work. I shall visit you later, my love.”

“But Y/n…”, he was a little sad when you leaned down to softly peck his lips and forehead, however nodded eventually with a breathed “Okay…” as you let go of his hands and he watched you walk outside again.

“Ah. Before I forget.”, you then turned one last time, this time a rather dangerous smile on your lips – though your eyes were not smiling at all – making everyone but your lover flinch, “What happened in here shall stay a secret between us, yes?”

“Yes, Y/n-san!”, the girls in the room said in unison while bowing, even the serious Kanzaki gulping lightly, even though you had just looked at Tanjiro so gently, your aura as you “smiled” and walked away made her skin prickle in an unpleasant way.

“Pahaha.”, when Kamado suddenly started laughing, only to cough and groan because of his ribs, Zenitsu just stared at him flabbergasted.

“How can you laugh, Tanjiro?! My heart literally just stopped, I thought I was going to die, he was so scary!”, he cried while Tanjiro chuckled again, small tears in the corner of his eyes from trying to suppress his laugh.

“Y/n isn’t that scary, Zenitsu… I am sure he is blushing right now.”, and the face everyone made, as if he was going crazy, almost made him laugh again, but he simply snickered and slipped underneath the blanket as he watched outside the window. At least Tanjiro knew that your emotionless, stoic behavior was a mere façade, because you had trouble expressing your real feelings, and that was the most important thing after all.

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@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

writer’s note: i am w e a k for hurt tanjiro and yn reuniting at the headquarters and everyone being surprised how soft yn the fearsome demon slayer actually is 💌

#salemswriting.#kamado tanjiro #tanjiro x male reader #kny x male reader #bottom tanjiro

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lupically · 3 years

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#D6BB9E | BENNETT.

genre | fluff, best friends au, crush au

word count | 1777

warning | mention of burns (pyro slimes ;-;)

note | hello (〃＾▽＾〃) thank you so much for requesting from me, anonie! i hope this is what you are going for and happy reading!

request | from anon

your hands squeezed tightly around bennett's forearm before he fell too far from the peak.

"i–i got you!" you said through gritted teeth, not giving yourself a moment of spare breath as you grounded the tip of your shoes against the grass and pulled.

he was heavier than you thought. but bennett was always running and jumping around, fighting monsters and getting hurt, digging up vegetables and soiling his unclean nails. you should not be surprised if he packed some muscle weight on his shorter body from his daily adventuring.

but oh, lord barbatos, was he heavy! the effort you were putting into pulling him back to the grassy surface was made especially prevalent because of the near-death experience bennett once again put himself in.

"bennett! stop daydreaming and pull yourself up!" you hollered when you felt him slip slightly from your grip.

you had glanced at him; your shaky eyes darted from below him at the dark pit of the faraway ground to his face, which held a somewhat surprised and emotionless expression. it was not at all what you expected someone who almost fell to their death would look like.

he snapped out of his sudden trance, one that his mind inconveniently put himself under as soon as he saw your face pop up from the cliff edge. he had thought he was done for; it was probably bound to happen one day considering how he adventures with no backup nor help from anyone. your sudden appearance just served as a pleasant surprise.

"so–sorry!" he shouted, the light coming back to his brilliant green eyes.

reaching his other hand up, he grasped onto your forearm and tried to pull himself up just as you scooted your body further away from the cliff, using the ground as leverage to conjure strength and stability.

his hand was close to reaching the rocky edge, he could see. but before he could grasp the ground and hoist himself back on a surface, his eyes widened at the redness that emerged—jumped—above your laying body.

you could sense the panic in his eyes. furrowing your brows, you followed his gaze to look behind your shoulder to find a giant pyro slime that had jumped above your head. your gaze rounded at the heated creature—oh no. it would not squish you, you know, but it would definitely burn you with the heat radiating off its watery body.

ugh. watery pyro slime... what juxtaposition.

your fingers curled around bennett's forearm to prevent yourself from dropping him, which sacrificed your ability to utilize your catalyst. squeezing your eyes tightly, you turned your head to the ground and told yourself a burnt back would be much, much better than a dead friend. besides, barbara's water healing would counter with burns well so you should be fine!

the sound of a blade cutting through the air around you burst into your ear. you did not dare to look up from the ground, but bennett had instinctively unleashed his sword and carelessly stabbed upward at the pyro slime (fortunately not scraping you in the process considering both his bad luck and unprepared action). he pulled his sword away, his grip around the hilt losing when he saw that the slime was beginning to blame around its body.

it was going to burst.

quickly discarding his sword, he kicked himself up using his feet and the ample wind so he could finally catch the edge. you squealed from the impact of his motion, feeling yourself being pulled forward.

bennett hoisted himself up just enough that his arm could go around the back of your head, and in the nick of time, just before the pyro slime combusted with a hot explosion, he placed his hand at the back of your head and dipped you toward him as much as he could.

you winced at the heat that touched your legs and the small of your back, but most of the damage that was supposed to go to your uncovered skin landed on bennett's bare arm instead. he gritted his teeth at the pain, but anything would be better than you getting hurt because of his carelessness, so he endured and kept his arm around the back of your head.

looking up from the ground, the tip of your nose lightly bumped against his as soon as you faced forward. bennett took a second or three to access the proximity, as well as the other party sharing it with him, and he immediately panicked.

"i–i'm sorry!" he shouted for no reason, his cheeks beginning to flush red.

"woah–hey, bennett! stop moving, you're going to fall!" you scolded at the commotion he was causing in the air, your senses coming back to you as you helped pull him back up to the surface.

you let go of him when he got his feet on the ground. falling backward, you breathed out a relieved sigh as your back touched the grass. you spread your arms out slightly, just enough that your knuckles ghosted against bennett's hand after he mirrored your action.

"that was way too close for comfort!" bennett exclaimed as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. he looked up at the sky, controlling his breathing. "thank you for saving me. i got lucky for once, i can't believe you were around!"

you pursed your lips together and tilted your head then. turning to your side, you frowned at your best friend and reached out to poke his cheek for his attention. bennett turned to look at you, his brows rising and his cheek pinking from the sight.

"huh?" he asked as he blinked at you innocently.

"i'm mad at you," you grumbled. "you didn't wait for me this morning. you just left to dig treasures for yourself!"

you almost forgot why you were here—to scold bennett for leaving you in mondstadt and going to adventure alone. you had to find him by following trials of unusually burnt grasses, eliminating the guesses that it could have been the doings of pyro slimes.

"ah! pyro slime–" a sudden recognition of the recent event dawned upon you, and you looked down at your leg to find a patch of redness around it. "ah, it did burn me..."

bennett sat up quickly, his eyes widening slightly. your hand tentatively smoothed over the red spot, your wince obviously in his observant eyes.

he could not have protected you from that one, he had been rather far away. he already tried his best in the circumstance he was in, but still, he would rather take all the harm in your place if he could.

"i'm sorry," he apologized urgently, moving forward and reaching a hand out reluctantly.

you looked over, your eyes scanning his scarred arm that gained itself some new stories to tell this afternoon. but more permanently engraved in your beating heart was the same burnt redness, in a much bigger patch, that he has yet to complain about.

he took that for you, didn't he? the arm that went around the naked back of your neck. a vulnerable place; he protected it however he could.

bennett always protected you however he could.

the arm that put itself in front of you when you were being teased by other vision-wielding kids before you got your anemo vision, the bandaid that sloppily got stuck to your knee when you fell from the bike at five, the jacket that warmed you after you almost drowned in cider lake, and the hand that went behind your hand when the pyro slime exploded.

bennett has bad luck, sure. but he was the bad that surpassed the good, he was the hope that things will turn out for the better because he would always be there to save the day.

he was the foolishness of loving someone to a point of losing oneself.

it was the kind of foolishness that exists within bennett, the kind where you love someone so much that you are willing to hurt in place of them, the kind only bennett could flawlessly pull off in the most flawed way possible.

"bennett... your arm," you muttered as you moved to sit more comfortably on the ground.

he blinked curiously down at his arm, unsure what got you looking so damaged and upset. for a second, he almost got insecure about the way his marked skin looked as he wondered if the pain he had to endure had appalled you. but you took his hand, gently and firmly, and you placed it before your closed eyes.

"uh–what–what are you–what are you doing?"

"healing you," you muttered. "my healing won't work as good on the burns, but i can try helping you with the rest."

your concentration brought along with you a gentle gust of wind. it blew across the neverending grass field, it blew across the sky, and it blew around you two. it tickled bennett's skin carefully, the greenness flying like sparkles of dandelion petals, and it stopped at his arm to sew his skin back together.

your hair blew, dancing harmoniously with the wind that fell around your head. and the softness of your hand that touched his made his heart speed up expectantly. when you were done, the wind didn't go, but you looked up at him under the dying of the sun just to smile with golden dust on your cheeks.

and bennett could not take his eyes off you. his cheek blushed; the kind of boy whose face get red simply because the person they like looks pretty.

he opened his mouth impulsively, his mind urging him to do one of the scariest things he could ever do.

"i lik–"

"let's head back to the cathedral," you cut him off, not ready, "we can ask barbara to treat the burns."

was that intentional? bennett could not tell. he was sure the thought of it would haunt him for nights on, though.

with his luck, he would like to say rejection was almost a guarantee in his story. but, at the same time, he could feel hope bubbling in his chest when you stood up and dragged him along with you.

he followed suit, his arm extended as you guided him through the open road, your voice rambling about what to eat for dinner together.

there was hope. there has to be. lingering in your appearance when he was in need, in the wind that pushed your hearts closer together, and your intertwined hands as you two headed back home. there has to be hope.

bennett smiled to himself at the thought.

and that. that is foolishness.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin bennett #bennett #bennett imagines #genshin impact bennett #bennett x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Rough Around the Edges {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! taking a quick break from all the fourth of july stuff to submit this piece for this week’s writer wednesday :) thanks @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape for organizing this wonderful weekly event!

this story takes place in a medieval AU and is lightly inspired by certain elements in “Beauty and the Beast”.

warnings: angst with a hopeful ending. partially unreciprocated feelings. arranged courtship. time period-authentic sexism (women are meant to please men and that’s all). there’s a kiss.

(possible) tw’s: arranged relationship. implied age gap (not specified, but everyone’s above age).

word count: a touch over 2k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

You sit in front of the mirror while Anna pulls your hair into a flattering updo. Your eyes begin to tear up at the painful sting of your hair being manipulated in such a forceful way, scalp throbbing with each of Anna’s harsh, calculated movements.

"Must you be so rough?”

She offers little empathy in her expression as she looks at you through the mirror’s reflection. “The Prince insisted that you wear your hair up tonight, madame. He was absolutely furious when you wore it down the last time, and I’m the one who had to stand there while he threw a tantrum over it.”

Your eyes roll, knowing all too well of your betrothed’s legendary fits of anger. He’s much too old to be doing such childish things, but god forbid you ever say that to him.

Anna finishes up with your hair, much to your relief, but now the real pain begins. You look over at the corset waiting on the bed and already, your ribcage aches.

“What, are you trying to turn it to stone?” She asks, and you shake your head. “Well, you’re certainly staring at it long enough. Come on now, stand up, we don’t have all afternoon.”

You sigh, rising up out of the chair and walking over to the bed where Anna’s standing, corset in-hand. She wraps it around your torso, pulling the laces impossibly tight over your ribs and stomach, caging them both within the garment.

After the corset is very securely tied, Anna grabs your dress and helps you step into the golden yellow skirt. She ties the top part with just as much aggression as she tied the corset, making simply breathing a painful process.

“Try to at least look like you don’t want to jump out of the East tower’s window.” Anna remarks as you scowl at your reflection in the mirror. “Have you ever considered smiling?”

“I have absolutely nothing to smile about.” You reply curtly, unamused by this conversation or her suggestions.

She sighs in defeat. “I’m only trying to help, madame. You need to learn how to be a princess, or at least try and act the part.”

“I’m not interested in being a princess, Anna. But, if you ever asked my opinion on the matter, then you’d already know that. Now please, I wish to be alone.”

Anna’s surprised at the hostile tone of your words, but she keeps her lips pursed, knowing she’s in no place to press the issue any further. She simply nods, backing out of the room, leaving you alone.

Your bottom lip begins to tremble as your vision blurs with tears, abruptly turning away from the mirror so that you don’t have to look at what you’ve been forced to become.

There’s nothing that you wish for more than to be free from this life, free to live the way you want to live instead of the one that was chosen for you to live. You loathe the mask you must wear, the painted face that looks back at you through the mirror.

But, you have no choice...you’ve never had a choice.

The palace is aglow this evening, thousands of candles burning and casting a warmer shade across the normally-bland ivory color. Your shoes clink on the marble flooring as you make your way to the front steps, looking over the railing at the grand room below.

Lords and ladies, princes and princesses are all arm-in-arm, walking through to the ballroom. Some have stopped to converse with each other, fake smiles plastered on their painted faces.

You huff to yourself as you reach the top of the staircase, and at the bottom, stands your betrothed. He looks up as you make your way down the stairs, a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his lips with each step you take.

Kylo holds his hand out to you when you reach the bottom, guiding you down the final stair before looping his arm through yours. The two of you walk towards the ballroom, smiling and nodding politely at the other guests.

“You look nice.” His voice is flat, emotionless.

You huff in false amusement, physically having to prevent your eyes from rolling. “Am I supposed to thank you for saying that?”

"Ah, you’re learning.” He says, stopping to look down at you, fingers holding your chin and forcing you to look up at him while his eyes linger over your face. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, little dove.”

You yank your chin from his grip, snarling softly. “Don’t touch me.”

His hand suddenly comes up to wrap around your throat, teeth bared. “I can touch you however I please, young one. You’re mine, and you ought to learn your place.”

Once he feels you relax, feels you surrender under his touch, he lets go of your neck and continues walking as if nothing’s happened, dragging you along with him.

He wears you on his arm the whole evening as he talks to various noblemen and you just stand there, silent with a small smile, pretending like you don’t exist.

Then, the two of you take a seat at the big table with King Han and Queen Leia, beginning to feast on the royal spread. You barely eat, partially due to the fact that you’re afraid to bust the ties on your corset if your abdomen expands even a little bit too far, and Kylo seems to take notice.

“I promise I didn’t poison it.”

You look over at him with widened eyes. He simply smirks, laughing softly to himself.

“I’m only joking, little dove.”

You’re incredibly surprised, stunned into utter silence at the fact that he’s just joked with you. You'd been convinced up until this point that humor wasn’t a part of his emotional capabilities, that he was only capable of anger, hatred, and inflicting fear.

His hand hesitantly rests on top of yours, which makes you flinch. He looks conflicted in the moment, as if he’s deciding whether or not to be upset that you react this way to his touch.

“Why aren’t you eating? You need to eat.”

You look away, jaw clenching. “I know you don’t actually care why I’m not eating, Kylo. Plus, none of my answers will be good enough to please you, anyway.”

He stiffens, pulling his hand away immediately.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the tone of his voice. He almost sounds...upset. Not upset at you, though, upset at himself.

The rest of the time he’s silent, only glancing over at you occasionally. Dessert comes around and you don’t even touch it, simply sitting up straight with your hands in your lap.

Couples rise from their tables as the musicians begin to play an upbeat tempo, gathering on the ballroom floor. Kylo stands up next to you, holding out his hand without a word.

You rise from your chair and take his extended hand, allowing him to lead you out to the ballroom floor. Dancing was customary in Alderaan and was a very popular practice at gathering’s like this.

Kylo’s large hands drop to your waist as soon as you reach the floor and you reach up to rest your hands on his broad shoulders. The two of you sway in unison and make your way around the dance floor skillfully, gracefully.

After the song comes to an end and another slower one begins, the Prince tilts his head down to look at you. His face is stoic, unchanging, but there’s something different about this look. It’s not as harsh or as emotionless as it normally is; there’s a certain gentleness to it.

Your eyes keep his gaze, looking back up at him with a curious glint in your eyes, drinking in his up-close appearance for truly the first time since you’ve arrived in Alderaan. He’s intoxicatingly handsome, there’s no getting around that, but his personality and temper leave a lot to be desired.

Yet, despite his hostility and distaste for you, you still find yourself temporarily entranced by his presence, melting under his gaze. It’s in this moment that you catch a glimpse into your own psyche, recognizing the true source of your vehement hate and closed-off behavior towards him.

All of it is done out of a desire to hide your attraction to the man that you’ve tried so, so hard to dislike. There’s always been a small part of you that’s known this, but you figured that if you pushed it down long enough and acted otherwise, perhaps you’d eventually convince yourself otherwise. But, alas, those feelings of attraction have only grown and festered beneath the facade of hatred.

It is true, Kylo Ren is a moody, closed-off, hostile and frankly childish being, but you’re somehow able to look past that and see the diamond-in-the-rough quality to the young Prince. You know that somewhere, behind the stone wall he’s so clearly built up around himself, there’s a goodness to him. You’ve seen glimpses of it throughout the time you’ve known him, but he almost immediately shuts it down instead of letting it show further, a fact you find incredibly perplexing.

“Y/N?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You snap from your temporary trance and shake your head. “Sorry, I was deep in thought.”

“I gathered.” He chuckles softly. “If I asked what it is you were thinking about, would you tell me the truth?”

“Probably not.”

He nods. “I appreciate your honesty.”

The two of you continue to move around the floor before the handsome Prince clears his throat, cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink.

“May I ask you a question, completely unrelated to my previous inquiry?”

You nod, and he swallows harshly.

“What is it about me that you loathe so much?”

Your stomach drops and you suddenly feel a touch of lightheadedness begin to pressurize within your skull. You’re frozen for a moment as you try to decide whether or not to tell him the truth.

“I don’t...why are you asking me such a thing? I know you don’t actually care about the answer.”

His jaw clenches and his grip suddenly tightens on your hips. “Why do you always insist that I don’t care?”

“Because I know you don’t, Kylo. At least, not truly.” You reply, squirming beneath his grip.

“W-Well, what if...” He huffs, looking away. “What if I do care? Or am at least trying to care?”

You’re genuinely surprised by his words, taken aback for a moment. This is a turn you certainly didn’t see coming...

“I find your ever-changing moods and stubbornness often makes you difficult to deal with. You never try, at least up until this point, to understand my feelings or show any sort of interest in getting to know me, which just makes me feel even more unwanted than I already do, and I--”

Before you can continue, you’re cut off by a sudden presence on your lips. It registers in your mind, then, that he’s kissing you. You stiffen, and he pulls away slowly, eyes staring into yours.

“You are not unwanted, Y/N.” He says, voice low. “Never...p-please never think that.”

Did he just say ‘please’? That’s almost the most shocking thing he’s said thus far.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Kylo. Just...a little rough around the edges.”

His entire demeanor shifts for a moment, and for a split second, you swear he looks happy; truly, genuinely happy. Perhaps a bit of relief was sprinkled in, too. He wears a small, barely-there smile as he continues to look down at you.

“I would like to try and change. We should at least try to get along, considering the fact that we’ll be wed soon. I know you don’t want to be here, but I’d like to at least try to make things a bit easier, h-however I can.”

You can’t stop the smile that quickly spreads across your face, delightfully pleased to hear these words. Your expression widens his smile ever so slightly.

“I think we can certainly give it a try.”

Kylo nods, a subtly optimistic expression etched on his features.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

#mrs-gucci #writer wednesday #mrs-gucci writes kylo ren #medieval au #medieval kylo #prince kylo ren #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren angst #adcu #adcu community #adcu fanfiction #adcu fanfic #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver angst #tw: implied age gap #arranged courtship

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saurexhas · 3 years

Text

Love is Blind - Part 3

We’re back to MC’s perspective with this one, and prepare for feels!

Fun fact, as someone who rarely writes xreader stuff, the sheer amount of times I write you or your is driving me crazy because I legit cannot replace them with some other descriptor like I would in third person to break things up XD

As always, mind the tags, you never know what I get up to when I’m writing angst :)

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Blinding pain was all you could recall as your mind drifted towards consciousness, hazy memories mingling with your dreams. You could hear Nightmare calling to you, his voice raw with so many emotions that it was almost overwhelming. The others could be heard too, though most of their voices had a somber note to them. Yet as you tried to recall what you could see, the only thing that came to you was the colour red.

With no means of making sense of the fragmented memories, your mind let them go only to be replaced with new sensations as you truly started to wake. Every little shift brought pain, your face feeling like it was still being burned by Ink. Your limbs felt stiff, like there was something restraining them, though at least your surroundings were soft. It felt like your bed, the same soft sheets and blankets that Nightmare had gotten for you. But as you thought of the dark god, you were made acutely aware of just how dark it was right now.

Nothing you did could alleviate the darkness; it was the same whether your eyes were open or closed. Considering how even your eyes ached and burned, it felt better to keep them closed for now since nothing could fix the crushing darkness. As panic set in, your movements became more erratic. Even if you knew you were safe within your room in the castle, that fear still gripped your soul with relentless strength. Blankets were nearly ripped off in your efforts to escape, and as you sat up in bed you hoped that your negativity would be a beacon to Nightmare.

The feeling of cool, slippery bones sliding against your cheek served to snap you out of your hysteria, your hopes answered in the familiarity of Nightmare’s presence. With his touch, you felt him steal away the negativity within you, leaving you calm if feeling a bit empty. He only absorbed your emotions whenever they were clearly out of control, so you were never too mad at him for doing so since they would come back after a while. And it served this time to calm you down from the panic that had consumed you, allowing you to relax as you leaned into the hand still resting against your cheek.

“There we go, little moon, you’re alright,” Nightmare cooed, his thumb rubbing against your face while his tentacles all moved to ensure you remained calm. While you couldn’t see them, they remained close enough that you could feel them crawling along, finding different places to rub against in a petting motion. “Just relax for me, okay?”

“A-Alright,” you stuttered out, melting under his precise touches. A sigh left your mouth as the previous tension within you let go, leaving you feeling truly relaxed. As much as you wanted to simply stay in the peaceful moment though, a thought kept nagging at you as you turned your head in the direction of his voice. “Night… why can’t I see you? E-Even if I open my eyes, it’s… just black. T-There’s nothing.”

The appendages currently touching you froze for just a second, and even as they continued their comforting motions, there was a stiffness to them that wasn’t present before. Silence filled the room for quite a time, all the while you waited with growing dread. Eventually, your partner spoke up, but his words weren’t what you were expecting. “What do you remember happening on our little outing to Outertale?”

“Outertale?” You echoed, thinking back on what you could recall. The two of you had been watching the stars, enjoying a moment of peace away from the crew. But that peace was shattered by the Star Sanses ambushing you, attacking Nightmare while he had nobody to fight alongside. You could recall Ink pursuing you despite Nightmare’s efforts to keep the Stars focused solely on him, and you remembered the joint attack that you saw coming from Dream and Ink. That attack would’ve crippled Nightmare if it didn’t kill him, and you clearly remembered your last-minute decision to save him despite the risk. Beyond that though, everything was a blur. “I… I remember the fight, and… I remember how the Stars were teaming up to take you down. I know I tried to save you, but… I don’t remember what happened after that…”

You trailed off, frowning at the gap in your memory that stopped you from answering any questions you may have had. The frown was quickly swept away though as you felt a gentle ‘kiss’ placed against the back of your hand, Nightmare’s teeth mimicking the affectionate gesture as they pressed against your skin. “Yes, you saved me, little moon. You saw right through my brother’s trickery, and you risked your own life to save mine. Part of me wishes to berate your foolishness for rushing into such danger, but… I’m more angry at myself for being unable to save you in turn.” The hand rubbing against your cheek shifted up to your temple, gently brushing against the underside of your eye. Yet you couldn’t feel his bones directly, merely the pressure indicating the presence.

Something was in the way, preventing him from touching you directly at that spot. Before his tentacles could stop you, your free hand reached up only to freeze at the far too familiar feeling. “B-Bandages? Night, w-why are my eyes covered in bandages?”

Your trembling hand was gently coaxed away from your face, a soft tentacle wrapping around the limb and pulling it back down. While you now knew why the world was dark for you, it only brought up so many more questions, and from the sound of Nightmare’s sigh, he didn’t want to tell you. “MC, you… Dream- ugh, this is harder to say delicately than I expected.”

“Then spit it out!” You almost growled, panic and desperation clawing at your soul. Until you had an answer, the feeling wouldn’t go away, even if your partner tried to force apathy upon you.

Thankfully, the dark god hadn’t resorted to attempting such, a groan of displeasure leaving him. You tightened your grip on his hand, silently begging him to simply be blunt if stepping around the issue was too difficult. Any answer would be better than nothing at this point… at least that’s what you thought.

Your opinion on the matter very quickly changed as Nightmare spoke up. “When Dream fired his arrow, you pushed me out of the way of his strike. Your actions spared me, but… his arrow damaged your eyes. That alone wouldn’t have been so difficult to deal with, however Ink, that chaotic little devil… his paint hit both of us. It did little to hurt me since my brother’s attack missed, but…” The dark skeleton trailed off, and you could’ve sworn that you heard him sniffle a bit. Such a “weak” display of emotion was uncharacteristic of him, even in front of you. “I’m so sorry little moon, but his paint got into your eyes. It burned them, and… we couldn’t undo the damage. You… I’m afraid you’re blind.”

“W-What?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper as you processed his words, finding yourself riddled with disbelief. There’s no way you could be blind, there’s no way the guys failed to heal you. Cross and Pyre had both taken care of your injuries in the past, and you knew that Nightmare’s preferential treatment of you made them too scared to fail for fear of his wrath. “You… you have to be wrong… t-there’s no way I’m suddenly blind!”

“MC, please calm down. You’re still recovering from your injuries, you could hurt yourself-”

“I’m already hurt, Nightmare! You told me I’m fucking blind!” You screamed, your eyes stinging as if they were trying to produce tears. Yet you couldn’t feel anything, not even the damn bandages growing damp. Growing furious, your hand shot up to rip them away, your arm pulling out of the tentacle’s lax grip with ease. The bandages had to be the reason you couldn’t see, it wasn’t that you were blinded!

Just as your hand managed to touch the soft fabric, the tentacle returned to grappling your limb with renewed vigor. “MC, stop this foolishness! You’ll only hurt yourself further!” Nightmare snapped, the tentacle continuing to wind its way around your arm and pull with increasing strength. Gritting your teeth, you dug your fingers into the bandages, determined to pull them away, and simply stopped fighting against the tentacle.

Your arm was yanked from your head, tearing bandages and damaging the still-healing flesh beneath. But despite the pain, you opened your now uncovered eye only for despair to hit you. “I… I-I’m blind,” you mumbled, feeling a sob build in the back of your throat even as your eyes refused to let you cry. They only continued to burn, the sensation growing worse the longer you held your eye open for. “I-I’m blind… I’m blind... I-”

Several tentacles wrapped tightly around you, bringing you closer to Nightmare as he hugged you to his chest. It managed to stop your spiralling thoughts, your hands digging into his jacket as you tried to come to terms with reality. Nightmare wasn’t lying; you really had been blinded by the Stars.

Some of your negativity was siphoned off, but most of it remained so that you could process your emotions and not simply run from them. Part of you wished to ask for the same emotionless bliss that Killer enjoyed, even if temporary, but you knew that your partner wouldn’t oblige. Still, he at least made the swirling negativity within you easier to handle, allowing you to have your moment with the god’s silent support.

It was only when the maelstrom within you calmed that he pulled away, his fingers brushing against the tender, burnt skin on your face. You couldn’t help the flinch, now keenly aware of the pain that your actions caused. The skeleton said nothing as he shifted, rustling being heard from what you assumed was the nightstand. It wasn’t much longer before the rest of the ripped bandages were stripped away, the air stinging your face until they were replaced with fresh ones that hid your injuries from the world once again.

“There, I’ll have to apply a cream to your facial burns a bit later, it seems you managed to rip open some of the blisters so I’ll wait until Cross can heal them.” More rustling could be heard from around the nightstand again, and you so desperately wished that you could simply see what was going on rather than trying to guess. “In the meantime, you should eat something now that you’re awake.”

One thing you were at least acutely aware of was Nightmare’s presence; the air around him was always a degree or two cooler, and there was a faint aura of dread that emanated from him. In your time together, you’d grown so used to his aura that it no longer bothered you. What did bother you was when you felt that aura pull away, your panic surging at the thought of being left alone. Without thought, you blindly reached out for him, managing to grab one of his slippery tentacles despite his movements. “P-Please! Don’t go! I... I-I don’t want to be alone…”

“MC, I’m just going to the kitchen to have Pyre prepare you something to eat,” he argued. Despite the fact that your eyes were hidden by bandages, you immediately tried to put on your best puppy-dog eyes, the one look that you knew he couldn’t resist. If it was from an actual puppy, Nightmare might’ve kicked the thing away out of annoyance, but you’d worn him down to where he caved to your begging almost every time.

This time was no exception, the god of negativity sighing as his tentacle wrapped around your arm and his presence returned to your side. “Alright, I’ll remain here for now. When one of the others comes to check in, I’ll send them to get your meal. Will that appease you?”

“Mhm,” you simply hummed, following the tentacle back to Nightmare’s chest where you proceeded to snuggle into it. He might’ve been seen as cold and cruel to everyone else, but he was nothing but a source of comfort for you. It would take quite a bit of adjustment and probably a few more meltdowns before you properly came to terms with your newfound blindness, but for now you felt surprisingly calm as you simply enjoyed the moment of rare peace in the castle.

“Hey Night, do they know we’re a couple yet?”

Just as your partner went to answer, the door to your room slammed open, causing you to jolt and pull back.

“Woah, not what I was expecting to walk into!” Killer’s voice echoed throughout the room, your face heating up despite your best efforts. “Didn’t know that you were into cuddles, boss! Guess it takes a certain special someone to make ya all soft~”

A groan left Nightmare’s mouth, and you could practically envision him pinching the bridge of nose at Killer’s words. “If they didn’t before, then they definitely know now.”

The two of you didn’t hear the end of it from Killer until Nightmare slammed the door in his face, though he could be heard loudly blabbing about what he’d seen to everyone in the castle. Yelling would be a more apt word. Still, it at least brought some of the others to check on you now that you were awake. Cross tended to your burns with some healing magic, dulling the pain and taking care of the blisters that you broke open in your earlier hysteria. Pyre rambled off something about cooking from the great Papyrus before darting off as quick as he came, returning with a bowl of soup that honestly smelled delicious right around the time Cross left. Nightmare never left your side the entire time, treating your wounds alongside Cross while one of his tentacles almost never broke contact with you. It was more reassuring than you would’ve thought it would be, allowing you to physically feel that he was staying with you just as he said he would.

It was strange having everyone fuss over you so much, though you guessed that might’ve been the fact that your relationship with Nightmare was now out in the open. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be though, as everyone except for Killer was respectful. Killer… well, there was only so much you could expect from someone who insulted others for the fun of it, so it wasn’t too surprising nor hard to deal with. It was almost… easier now that you didn’t have to hide your feelings for the lord of the castle, and it might’ve been your imagination but the others almost seemed to be treating you better than before. Pyre was always kind to you, and Cross was never difficult, but they seemed to be treating you a bit more carefully now than before. It was likely all in your head though, merely some of the castle’s nicer residents showing compassion to you in one of your times of weakness. Killer certainly wasn’t acting any differently. Regardless, the biggest source of comfort was your boyfriend sitting next to you, never leaving your side even as the warm meal, healing magic, and sheer emotional drain left you nodding off and relaxing back into the covers of your bed.

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clodovia · 2 years

Text

Happier

Character: Oikawa x gn! reader

Song Fic: Happier by Ed Sheeran

Warnings: Angst

A/n: my first fic on this blog, probably one of my favorites

Word Count: 1255

AO3 Link

Network: @hanayanetwork

Oikawa has lost track of how long it has been since that day. The day when his life was turned upside down as he found you had packed your things and left while he was off with his team playing away games. He didn’t know why he ever did what he did and he regrets his actions every day. After you went public about the events that occurred, he felt empty inside. His team manager could see that and knew that she couldn’t do anything to help. She slowly disappeared from his life as well, not that he really took notice. He was too numb to everything around him. Volleyball wasn’t even fun for him anymore as the headspace he was in was preventing him from being able to succeed. He was benched for many games, his teammates’ and coaches’ concerns growing every day about their star setter.

It was then that he received a message from a friend from home. A small smile cracking through the emotionless exterior that Oikawa gained after that day. It was a message from Iwaizumi in a group chat with Oikawa, Mattsun, and Makki. It was telling Oikawa to get his sorry ass to Japan. Soon after Mattsun and Makki sent messages of their own, voicing their concerns over their former captain. Oikawa’s vision became blurry as he stared at the messages. Tears began to stream down his face as everything came back to him. The emotions he buried deep down resurfacing. The pain in his heart every time he sees you post a photo on your social media with your new partner. Feeling the claws of guilt and regret pulling him down. He collapsed on his bed, staring at the ceiling as tears continued to escape from his eyes.

His phone dinged, but he didn’t want to look. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, but it must’ve been a while due to his phone suddenly ringing. Pulling him back to reality as he sat up to grab his phone to answer.

“Hello?” he croaked.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. Oikawa could tell without looking at the caller ID that it was Iwaizumi.

“Come back to Japan, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, “Let us get your mind back on track.”

A bitter laugh escaped from Oikawa before turning into a choked sob as more tears streamed down his cheeks.

“How exactly will coming back put me on track?”

“Well staying away and trying to play through whatever is going through your head obviously isn’t helping you, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa sighed. He knew Iwa was right. Trying to act like he was okay when he obviously isn’t, isn’t doing him or his team any good. It’s hurting their chances of going further in their season. It’s the reason he’s been getting benched, even if he tries to ignore that’s the truth.

“You still there?” Iwa’s voice echoed, bringing Oikawa back.

“Yea,” he sighed, shakily, “I’m here.”

“Come home, Tooru,” Iwa sighed.

Oikawa bit his lip to try to prevent himself from crying any more than he already has, but that was proving difficult with how genuine and concerned Iwa’s voice was as he said Oikawa’s name.

“Alright,” Oikawa answered quietly, “I’ll talk to coach and see if I can get some time off to come home.”

“Good. Let me know when you’re getting here. I’ll pick you up from the airport,” Iwa stated.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sniffled.

“Just get your pathetic self home,” Iwa groaned, trying to hide the fact that he was relieved his friend would be coming home.

“Rude, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa gasped but relaxed upon hearing a soft chuckle on the other end of the line.

“I’ll see you soon,” Iwaizumi stated before ending the call.

It wasn’t until later in the week that Oikawa stepped foot onto Japanese soil. A mask covering his face, sunglasses covering his eyes, and a hat on his head. Trying to conceal himself as he made his way to the familiar face of Iwaizumi waiting for him. Oikawa was staying with Iwaizumi while he was in Japan for a little while. On his first night back, Iwaizumi took Oikawa to a bar where the two met up with Mattsun and Makki. The four sat in a corner as they drank and caught up with each other. Trying to get Oikawa’s mind off everything. However, their efforts proved futile as an all too familiar laugh reached Oikawa’s ears. His friends could see their friend freeze in his spot, eyes wide as he stared at his drink not daring to allow himself to look around to find you.

The others heard it too. They knew you were here, they saw you enter with your friends. Their efforts of keeping Oikawa occupied increased knowing you were here and hoped he wouldn’t notice. Oikawa closed his eyes as he took a deep breath before allowing himself to lift his eyes. His breath caught in his throat as his gaze landed on you as you stood at the bar with your friends. A large smile on your face. You looked so happy and it made his heart break as he saw how much your eyes seemed to sparkle. It’s been so long since he’s seen you this happy. Looking back, your eyes never sparkled like they are now… You knew his secret and put up a show for him so he wouldn’t know. How did he miss that the sparkle was missing from your eyes? Did he really become that oblivious towards your emotions?

Another person walked into the bar, pulling Oikawa from his thoughts. He knew who they were. It was your partner and you greeted them with a big hug and a kiss. Oikawa bit his lip, remembering how much he misses your kisses and your hugs. God, does he miss your hugs… they were so reassuring to him. Making him feel like he wasn’t falling apart after a rough day as you kissed his tears away.

“Oikawa.”

He tore his gaze away from you and your partner to look at Iwaizumi, only now noticing how his gaze has become slightly blurrier than before.

“We can leave, you know,” Iwa reminded.

“Yea, we can go to my place and play some games,” Makki added.

The three watched as Oikawa deflated before giving them a defeated nod.

“Okay,” he sighed before looking up again to you.

Your eyes suddenly caught his gaze, surprise evident in your eyes upon seeing him here. Oikawa watched as your partner looked his way before giving you a kiss on the temple, gaining your attention again as they slipped their arms around your waist. A calm smile on your lips as you looked up at them before resting your head on their shoulder, just like you would with him. Oikawa couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his lips at the scene.

“I’m just glad y/n is happier,” he whispered as his smile became bitter and full of hurt.

Oikawa was still in love with you. Why did he ever cheat on you? Why did he hurt you as much as he did? His heart is heavy with regret for everything he has done. Knowing that even if he had a chance to tell you that, he lost his chance with you. As Oikawa leaves the bar with his friends, he looks over his shoulder once more to catch another glimpse of you because he misses how much happier he was with you.

#oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x gn reader #oikawa tooru x gn reader #oikawa angst

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 3 years

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Their Doll 10

The Mission

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis: y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: the mission to find Bucky goes horribly wrong

Warnings: mentions of non-con, torture, violence, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

THE mission would be awkward, to say the least. I didn't stop cursing my dad and his sly smile the whole way there. Of course he had to assign me and Steve of all people to do the mission. Great. A whole weekend of bitter, grumbling Steve and his not-so-subtle death glares. The act pulled up outside the motel, dropping us off with our suitcases that secretly only held a few clothing changes but were mostly filled with kit. We trudged up to the from desk, keeping our eyes down. The hood of my baggy grey jumper was pulled up, my hair draped around my face as to cover me. Steve wore a cap (haha, funny) and some glasses, his jacked zipped up the whole way so he could turtle back into it in he needed to.

"How can I help you?" The perky woman spoke from the other side of the counter, tearing her head away from her computer for a second.

"Um, we have a room. For, ugh, Johnson." Steve said in a deeper voice than normal. The girl turned her attention back to the computer, typing something before walking over to the back room, sliding a keycard onto the counter when she returned. "We have two rooms." Steve continued. She shook her head.

"It says right here one room." She corrected, pointing to her computer screen. I rolled my eyes, haha, very funny Tony. Steve nodded, grabbing the room key and walking off. "Have a great stay!" She called after us, although we were already at the door.

I sighed as I walked through the door of the small room, surveying the two twin beds, small bathroom - which Steve would barely fit in - and tiny wardrobe. Tony really spared no expense when it came to his best friend, I thought with a laugh in my head.

"Left or right?" Steve asked, taking off his glasses and hat.

"Left." I said, dumping the bag on the end of the bed to my left. Steve nodded curtly, dropping his bad to the floor and pulling a t-shirt and some sweats out. I grabbed a t-shirt and some shorts from mine, walking towards the bathroom.

Once inside, I slipped into the clothes, brushing my teeth with one of the provided toothbrushes and washing my face with a small towel. I walked out, dumping my other cloths into my bag before climbing into the creaky bed. I spared a glance for Steve, who was laid in his bed, eyes trained on the wall.

"Night." I said, before my head crashed to the horrible pillow and falling into a broken and unpleasant sleep.

...

The next day, we were up and ready. Not a word spoken until we left the motel. We reached the abandoned computer lab we were supposed to check out, but before we could get further my vision was overcrowded by darkness.

I groggily woke up, my head lifting slowly from where it was hanging forward. I went to move my wrists but nothing happened, instead the rattling of chains filled my ears. I looked up to see I was suspended from the ceiling, my feet barely touching the ground so I was uncomfortably resting on the tips of my toes. My arms ached like hell, my head overcome with a splitting headache. I groaned, my gaze finally landing on Steve in front of me.

My eyes widened upon seeing him. He was starring back at me from where he sat in an armchair, his hands and legs secured to the chair by thick metal that even he couldn't break and a similar strap was across his chest. It was only when I went to speak that I noticed that a cloth was in my mouth, tied around the back of my head and preventing me from doing anything. Shit. HYRDA. They were the only ones other than the avengers who new who I was and what I could do.

"Y/n? You awake?" Steve hesitantly asked. I nodded. Before he could talk to me any more the heavy metal door creaked open, an all-to-familiar man walking in.

"This is simple, you tell me what I want to know and you leave, unharmed. If not, I guess I'll get to have a bit of fun." The General spoke with a menacing grin, waving some controller around in the air. "So, Cap, why are you here?" Nothing. "I said, why are you here?" When he was once again met with silence, a scream ripped through the room, Steve's body attempting to convulse in the restraints.

"Why are you here?" He shouted, Steve's screams echoing for longer this time.

...

After what felt like hours, the General kicked a wall near by, groaning in frustration.

"This isn't working. I guess I'll have to take a different approach." He muttered to himself, chucking the remote to the side and walking up behind me. Shivers rocked through me as he moved my hair over one shoulder, bringing his lips to my ear. "I wonder if your screams still sound the same." He all but whispered, the metal restraints around my arms falling free. His thick, rough hand held the back of my neck in a painful grip, pulling at the delicate tendons as he yanked me to my feet and led me a few meters away to a large trough of water.

My knees hit the floor harshly and I winced, trying my hardest to move away from the water but his grip on my neck only tightened as he lowered my face until it sat an inch above the water. Steve looked on with a heavy - yet emotionless - stare.

"Why. Are. You. Here?" He said in a sickly calm tone, and when met with no answer once again, my head was submerged. The realisation hit me a second later, my mouth clamping shut at the water began to flood into it and up to my nostrils. Eventually the pressing weight on my chest begun, my mouth opening with a muffled scream as the liquid flowed into my lungs.

"Stop!" I heard a muffled shout, followed by a snide chide.

"Tell me what you're here for!"

No response.

Suddenly my head was pulled up, water sputtering from me as I struggled to take in enough air.

"What are you here for?!" And I was under again. And again. And again. And again.

But there was never a response.

"I'll stop when you give me answers." The statement was directed at Steve, but scared me still, my now wet and dangled hair still wrapped around the man's fist and my knees now burning from the rough concrete floor biting through my tactical gear.

I mustered my strength, gaze raising to see the worry on Steve's face. I threw him a wink.

"I can do this-" I spluttered, my cough resounding around the room. "All day." I said breathily, more coughs climbing my throat. I could hear the smirk in the man's voice.

"Me too, sweet cheeks."

My head was under again.

...

Soon enough the General got bored, ordering some guards to escort us back to some cells. My heart must've stopped beating in my chest when I saw the cell, abandoned and clearly barely touched in the weeks I was gone. I had stopped dead in my tracks, only to start moving again with a shove from one of the guards.

Even worse, I was soon being put into the silencer again, the metal contraption leaving me mute as I simply looked forward with shellacked eyes. Steve looked in in what seemed to be pity as the guards wrestled him into the soldier's cell, locking him down in place with the thick metal straps that they used to use on The Winter Soldier.

I longed to see him again, to feel his skin on mine as his lips conceded every inch of my body, his hot breath on my neck and next to my ear as he whispered sweet and dirty nothings, longed to him him inside me again, reaching all the right places and-

The snap of the door as it slammed shut pulled my instantly from my thoughts, the noise resounding around the room almost mockingly as me and Steve were left behind, simply staring at each other.

...

Days past, and I'd been keeping count only by the general routine we seemed to face at what I assumed was daily. Four days back in the hell hole, and all I wanted to do was gauge the General's eyes out or plunge a knife through someone's head. But HYDRA new my strengths, my weaknesses, and used them against me - against us.

One thing I could never stand was the cold. I guess you could say that's how I found myself where I currently was, locked into a glass, soundproof chamber, whilst the menacing, malevolent clouds of cold rolled in at a torturously slow pace - slow enough that I felt the temperature drop at every degree that it decreased by. I was shivering, spluttering and so, so cold. My teeth chattered so hard behind the silencer I doubted I'd have any teeth left soon, my fingers were so cold they were a bit rand red and my eyes lashes had formed little icicles.

Steve was once again detained on the other side, the General clearly pressing questions at him that he wouldn't answer and I couldn't hear. I'd have to assume that when Steve answered the questions I would be allowed out of this chamber, but I very much doubted that Steve would give in quickly.

All of a sudden people seemed to look around as if a loud noise had been blaring, the General's face worrisome as he darted from the room.

In that moment I guessed that the intrusion alarm must've sounded, and my suspicions were only confirmed when a circular slab of the ceiling crashed down in front of the chamber. I attempted to smile as I caught sight of Clint lowering himself down through the hole he'd created, eyes lighting up when his met mine. When the man made contact with the ground, he fished some kind of gadget from his pocket, making quick work of Steve's metal bounds before helping the super soldier to his feet.

Steve was a little wobbly at first, but steadies himself quickly and rushed over to me. His fists pounded at the cage, but the glass wouldn't give in to his strength nor to that of any of counts little Clint's and gizmos. They looked at me with scared expressions, the glass clouding over with the crawling ice as it coated the glass with its coldness. Clints's head snapped away to the door, soon followed by Steve's and I had gathered that someone was coming.

Both avengers quickly looked back to me, and al I could make out was an 'I'm sorry' that had called from Steve's lips before they were fleeing out of the door.

...

I faced the punishment for their actions. I couldn't even look at myself out of the shame I currently felt. I was allowed a shower, but I had guards stood barely a meter outside the curtain as I raked my shaking fingers brought the hair, legs unstable and body sore from exactly what I endured.

They'd shown no mercy, not relent. After hours, I was exhausted, so worn out I could barely keep my eyes open. But I wanted my shower - needed it - to scrub away all remnants of what just happened.

It was just my luck of of HYDRA's missions had succeeded, that they had twenty men all awaiting an award for their hard efforts.

And reward them, the General did.

I couldn't help the vomit that crawled up my throat, nor the gagging as I threw up in the corner of the cubicle. I swiped away the remainders on my face, grabbing a brush and scrabbling my skin raw in order to forget them. But nothing worked, and I doubted it ever would.

...

Battered, shaking, thinning, jittery, bruised and broke, my body could barely take any other day of this. I had lost count of the days by now, and I couldn't find in in myself to even care how long it'd been. I was sure it hadn't been nearly as long as it felt - Steve had probably only been gone for a few days at the most. But my body said otherwise, my aching limbs and hoarse throat enough evidence.

I had become familiar with the sound of my own screams and cries, as many of the HYDRA agents were now, too. Every day, they spent as much time as they could torturing me, trying to get the information they needed from my and failing miserably.

Even though I'd only been with the avengers for a few weeks, my venom and resentment for HYDRA ran so deep it was enough to keep me quiet. I'd do anything to make sure that non of their plans ever succeed again. So if that meant enduring this torture, do he it.

I looked up suddenly as the door opened loudly, a grimace finding my face when two guards stepping in the room. But they didn't stop at the door to bark orders at me like usual, no. They continued into the cell, yanking me up my my arms and tugging my out of the small cell with hard expression occupying their faces.

I yelped as I was pushed harshly into a room I’d never seen before, my feet stumble over one another as I tumbled through the door. The guards filed in behind me, hands clasped in front of them as my head rose to meet gazes with the General’s.

“Ready to talk yet, Miss Stark?” He asked, an almost mocking coo inclining his words. He released me from the silencer, so that I could answer him. I glared up at him, my knees uncomfortable against the harsh concrete floor. He crouched down to my level, peering into my eyes with raised brows in question.

“Fuck you.” I snapped, mustering all the saliva I could before spitting it at his face. He flinched back when it splattered over his cheek, his fingers swiping through the spittle before he was shaking it from them and standing back to his full height.

“It appears this one is never going to cooperate. If she won’t give us information, why let our experimentations on her possibly...benefit the girl the the future?” The general spike menacingly to the guards behind me. “How about way find a way to shut her up?”

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awkwardwithasideofdisappointing · 2 years

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I just have this idea thats been running through my head about like, reader (or any character really) getting kidnapped by the LOV for any myriad of possible reasons and being held captive. The villains already have their hands on the drug that takes away quirks and they've developed it further but the effects only last a few days. So they periodically inject the reader with it to prevent them from using their quirk to escape. Then one day in comes Hawks, and the reader is relieved and excited because this is it; they're finally getting rescued! Only to have that hope ripped from them when Dabi walks in behind him, making jokes like the pair are friends. It slowly sinks in that Hawks isn't there to rescue them. Dabi hands the syringe to Hawks and the reader is struck with horror as they watch helplessly while he injects them, an emotionless expression on his face. Hawks sees the pain and betrayal the reader is experiencing but knows he can't do anything without blowing his cover, and the reader is stuck thinking that Japan's number 2 hero is a traitor. They're left hopeless and knowing in that moment that they aren't going to escape.

#mouse mumbles #this probably isnt an original idea at all i jusy love the angst of it all #i love hawks so much #mha #bnha #bnha imagine #my hero academia #mha hawks #mha reader insert

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five-rivers · 3 years

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Long Night in the Valley chapter 10

“So,” said Ochako. “Do we open the door, or…?”

The door was unassuming and bland. Very… doorlike. It was also the only way forward unless they wanted to backtrack several hundred feet.

Incidentally, no one was standing directly in front of the door. Ochako wondered if that was a coincidence, or if they were all just that wary of things after these past few hours.

Aizawa sighed heavily and hauled open the door. It was dark inside, with a single spotlight illuminating a small sign that said, ‘This way to 5.’

“That’s suspicious!” said Iida.

“So it is,” agreed Aizawa, squinting into the dark. “I’ll go.”

Walked to the sign, and the rest of them tensed, ready to jump in to help at any sign of danger. The lights suddenly turned on, and music began to blare. A large television screen played a video of a dancing man.

“A rickroll,” said Todoroki, reverently.

If Aizawa’s sigh had been any heavier, it would have had its own gravitational pull.

“Yeah,” said Six, voice as emotionless as ever. “Great job, everyone, you got here.”

“Was that really necessary?”

“What?” asked Six.

“The music,” said Aizawa.

“Consider it a practical demonstration,” said Six. “The farther in you go, the older we are, and the more experience we have with this kind of landscape.” He ran his hand over the sign, and Ochako gasped as patterns and colors followed his fingers.

“You’re younger than Skyrunner or All Might, though,” said Ochako. “You’re the same age as Aizawa-sensei.”

“Well, yes, but actually no,” said Six. “I was here before they were. I’m older.”

Ochako’s senses, honed by months living in a building with nineteen other teenagers, detected an opportunity for teasing. She pressed her hand to her lips and put on her slyest smile. “Are you? Reaaaally?”

“Memes,” said Todoroki, nodding gravely.

“I can see why Nine likes you so much.”

Six grabbed Aizawa’s sleeve preventing him from moving on with the others.

“If you’re trying to keep me away from my kids, I suggest you don’t.”

Six raised an eyebrow. “Your kids, huh? You know, we had a bet running about that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Anyway, I wanted you to hear this, first. You can decide if you want to tell them, after, but they are Nine’s friends. I don’t want to be responsible for them running off on their own without your knowledge.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me something that could help Midoriya but will be incredibly dangerous.”

“Are you sure your secondary quirk isn’t precognition?”

“I am saving my crisis about that until we get out of here. This waste of time is illogical.”

“Right. So. Remember when I said that Nine didn’t get to choose who we were?” He gestured at himself.

“Yes,” said Aizawa, already hating where this was going.

“There’s someone who we don’t count as one of our number.”

Now Aizawa really didn’t like where this was going. “You mean, you’ll count terrorists, but not… this person.”

“Yeah. Usually, we keep him locked away, but with all this disruption…”

“He’s gotten out.”

“Not yet. What I’m telling you now may not be relevant at all. But if that door does open, I want you to have this option. Not all the others agree the risk is worth it, but I think that should be up to you, since you’d be the one taking it.”

“What option?”

“That person, he took something from Nine, back when his quirk first manifested. You know all the guys you ran into back when you were in his mind space? He took one of those. I think, and most of the others agree, that it would be beneficial if he got it back.”

“He took part of Midoriya’s personality.”

“Yes, you can think about it that way.”

“That part wouldn’t happen to be something like self-preservation, common sense, or grudge-holding, would it?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

“When you reach One, if you want to try to get it back for Nine, ask One if the vault it open.”

“Exactly how dangerous would this be.”

“Horribly. But you probably wouldn’t die. This quirk comes with a time limit. Otherwise, we wouldn’t ask at all.” Six let go of Aizawa’s sleeve. “Your students are waiting for you. You should go.”

Aizawa stepped into the dark. A battle strobed against the darkness. No, two. One with Six and a man who must be Five, and another with Six and Shimura Nana. Both battles were against a darkness whose silhouette resembled the monster of Kamino Ward far too much for Aizawa’s comfort.

“You’re next!” shouted two overlapping voices.

Aizawa blinked. He was in a well-lit street, looking at what could only be the so-called Five.

Izuku woke up slowly. Being asleep had kept some of the pain at arm’s length, but now it returned with a vengeance, along with an oddly comforting pressure.

Oh, Toshinori had fallen asleep wrapped around him. That was nice. They really should start moving again, though.

The ground rumbled, and Izuku realized what had woken him up.

“Toshinori,” he said, shaking him the best he could from his position. “Wake up. There’s an earthquake.”

Toshinori blinked awake. “Did you call me Dad?”

“No?”

“Back in the city?”

“Um. Earthquake. What do we… uh, do?” He didn’t know what the earthquake drill for the middle of the forest was. Four had, but Izuku was having trouble understanding him over the pounding in his head.

“It isn’t shaking anymore,” observed Toshinori. “We should probably still go.” He rubbed his eyes. “Let’s get you patched up first. I can’t believe I fell asleep without making sure you were alright…”

“I’m fine,” protested Izuku, trying to stand up. He could just keep using Blackwhip to stabilize—

The space behind his eyes turned white. When it became clear again, he found himself pressed against Toshinori’s shirt.

“Toshinori,” he whined, because he couldn’t help it, and, oh, no, he was such a burden he shouldn’t be making Toshinori hold his weight, he was a lot heavier than he looked, but his head was pounding and his eyes felt like they were bleeding and his skin felt like sandpaper, “it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” said Toshinori. “Let me take care of you, please?”

Toshinori lowered him back to the log and started to remove medical supplies from the pockets of his coat.

“What are we going to do after this?” asked Izuku, voice as quiet as he could make it without whispering.

“That is an excellent question, my boy,” said Toshinori in an imitation of his usual heartiness. “As you might imagine, I’ve acquired a number of contacts over the years. Some of them are comfortable with, ah, less than legal escapades.”

“I didn’t think you had any friends other than Detective Tsukauchi and Mr. Shield. And maybe Gran.”

Toshinori hunched his shoulders. Izuku immediately felt bad.

“Well, you aren’t wrong. Contacts and friends are in two different categories, I’m afraid. In any case, I’m hoping to eventually reach one of them, and then…” He trailed off, and Izuku got the sense that Toshinori was bracing himself for Izuku being upset. “I am hoping to arrange passage to I-Island.”

“We’re leaving Japan?”

“Just until we get this cleared up,” said Toshinori.

Izuku rubbed his eyes. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “What about Shigaraki and All for One?”

“Not your responsibility,” said Toshinori.

“It kind of is.”

“It really isn’t.”

“It’s our family.”

“I know. At least, I know now. Goodness. I don’t think I’ve wrapped my head around it, yet.” Toshinori rubbed his temples with his wrists, keeping his dirty fingers well away from his eyes.

“What about before that?” asked Izuku, guiltily changing his line of questioning.

“I have a few other safe houses around here. Funny story about one of them. Completely abandoned building on public land. Was being used by some anti-mutant cult. No one ever came to check it out after the initial arrest. So. Finders keepers.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“All Might,” said Izuku, suppressing a giggle despite the seriousness of the situation, “that’s illegal.”

“I have done a surprisingly large number of illegal things in my life. Comes from fighting with a centuries-old monster the government doesn’t want to acknowledge as existing.”

“They’ve acknowledged him now,” observed Izuku.

“Hasn’t seemed to help much, has it? Anyway, that one shouldn’t be too far from here. Probably. It will still be quite a walk. We’ll stay there, for a while. Until I can reach one of my contacts.” Toshinori sighed. “I think the one in Deika will be out best bet. He works in the shipping industry. I’ll have to introduce you, just in case we end up separated.”

Izuku pretended the last sentence didn’t send him into a spiral of panic.

Of course, this spiral of panic was interrupted by an entirely different panic, because the ground started to shake again.

“I can Float us—”

“Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” said Toshinori, keeping a tight grip around Izuku’s bicep.

Toshinori’s hands were extremely large. A tree crashed to the ground in the distance. Accompanying that sound was a roar too loud and animal to be completely human, but too coherent to not be human.

Toshinori went pale.

“Someone you know?” asked Izuku, covering his ears to keep the sound from battering his brain any further.

“We need to go,” said Toshinori, bundling up all the supplies he’d taken out. “We need to go right now.”

“All for One?” whispered Izuku, getting to his feet. “A gigantification quirk?”

“One of his subordinates,” said Toshinori. “One I never managed to find. I’d hoped—Of all the luck—” He started cursing under his breath in English.

Maybe Izuku really did have a villain-attracting quirk.

The shaking of the ground grew stronger. “Run,” said Toshinori. “Don’t look back for me.” Toshinori had to know that wouldn’t fly (or float) with Izuku, because a second later his face twisted up in something like resignation.

Izuku grabbed Toshinori’s wrist. He could Float them both out of here.

Blinding pain lanced through his brain again.

Okay, maybe he couldn’t.

The ground in front of them erupted. A craggy giant burst up from below.

“Little Lord!” the giant shouted, voice more than loud enough to hurt. A massive hand picked Izuku up, holding him gently but extremely firmly. “I’m SO HAPPY to see you again!”

Something clicked in the back of Izuku’s head. A memory he didn’t know he had resurfaced.

“H-Hi, Machia,” he said.

“Did this bald man kidnap you?! He smells like All Might! But All Might is yellow. Should I kill him?”

“No,” said Izuku. “He’s definitely not All Might. He’s, uh, a friend.”

“HELLO LITTLE LORD’S FRIEND.”

“Hello,” said Toshinori, waving a little, clearly in shock.

Machia shifted to wave at Toshinori and Izuku hissed as the movement jostled his injuries. His minor injuries. His very minor injuries that weren’t bothering him at all.

Who do you think you’re kidding, kiddo?

Not helping, Grandma.

“Little Lord! Are you hurt?” Machia sniffed him. “You smell like blood! I have to bring you to the doctor!”

“The what?” asked Izuku, alarmed.

“Don’t worry, Little Lord! He is a very good doctor! We must go!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Izuku, before Machia could get more than three humongous steps away from Toshinori. “It isn’t my blood, it’s the blood of my enemies!”

“Lord tried that one, too, Little Lord!”

“But—”

“Oh! I forgot your friend!” Machia turned around. “Sorry, Little Lord’s friend!” He picked up an increasingly distressed Toshinori and continued stomping through the forest.

Izuku realized that Machia was headed back towards town.

“Wait!” he shouted, despite not having a plan for what to do next.

“Wait?” repeated Machia, balancing on one foot.

Thankfully, Izuku’s brain churned out a plan. “My friend here,” said Izuku, gesturing at Toshinori, “has a house nearby. It would be better if we went there, and then the doctor can come to us.”

Machia grinned, which was honestly an unsettling sight. “You’re just like Lord, Little Lord! Always making plans.” He brought Izuku up to his face, close enough that Izuku could feel his (oddly minty-fresh) breath and bonked the top of his head with his nose.

“Do you brush your teeth, or do you have a quirk for that?” asked Izuku before he could think better of it.

“Lord gave me a tooth-brushing quirk! He said he was tired of smelling my morning breath. I do not know why he said that, because it was night. But he gave this quirk to me! It was very generous of Lord.” said Machia, delighted. “How did you know?”

Izuku decided not to go down the rabbit-hole of his reasoning and shrugged. “Lucky guess?”

Machia laughed. “Lord says that, too, sometimes! I am very glad to see you, Little Lord. I have missed my Lord very much, and you are just like him!”

Seven vaguely annoyed and insulted ghosts buzzed in the back of Izuku’s head.

“I am also glad that you did not grow up to be as big as me! You would be much harder to carry if you did.”

Apparently Izuku was not the only one with a propensity for rabbit-hole thoughts, because he could not imagine a scenario where it would be reasonable to expect him to grow to be as big as Machia.

“So,” he said, “you’ll take us to my friend’s house?”

“Yes, Little Lord! And then we can call the doctor, and he will take care of you!”

Izuku didn’t think Machia meant to be ominous, and yet.

“So,” said Aizawa, surveying the man up and down. “You’re the one that decided the best place for my student to develop an unstable, highly dangerous, and painful quirk was the middle of a high-adrenaline training exercise full of other students.”

“Hey,” said the man, scratching the back of his head, “no one got hurt, and when you’ve been dead as long as I have, you start looking for entertainment wherever you can get it. Besides, you’re the one that let the training exercise keep going.”

“According to your compatriot back there,” Aizawa said, hooking a finger over his shoulder, “you haven’t been dead at all.”

Five jolted and ran his knuckles over his bandoleer. “Yeah, it’s easy to forget.”

It was great to know that Five was trash at lying. True, he’d been told up front that Six’s explanation would be at least partially false, but still.

Aizawa sighed.

Five, who’d also introduced himself as Lariat and Banjo Daigoro, appeared to be a fairly typical hero for his era. Minimal hero costume repurposed from military gear, worn with just a bit of flair, indicating that the celebrity status of heroes probably hadn’t fully set in yet. Ammunition for a sidearm, although the sidearm itself was well hidden. The gun was probably bulky, but if Aizawa didn’t miss his mark, those were stun rounds. Eye protection, but not head protection. Not that Aizawa could complain about that, considering.

“Anyhow, if you’re all here, let’s go.” The man clapped his hands together, activated his quirk, and proceeded to fling Aizawa and his students through the air, without warning.

“Sorry ‘bout this!” said Five. “But we don’t have time for the whole history lesson! Just the highlights!”

Brief battles flared to life around them as Five dashed sideways along skyscraper walls and swung from building to building.

“I always thought of myself as a sort of Spider Man, y’know?”

“I don’t know that hero, sir!” shouted Iida over the whistling wind.

“Pre-quirk comic book character,” explained Five. “Most of ‘em got censored after the first quirk boom. Didn’t want to give anyone ideas. But by my time, with the pro hero scene starting up, they came back in a big way!” Five landed in front of a large convention center. “This’s where they held the first Modern Comic Convention in Japan. Or ModiComiCon for short.”

“And we couldn’t walk here, because?” asked Aizawa, suppressing an increasing urge to commit murder.

“I thought my way was more fun,” said Five. “Haven’t you always wanted to travel like that?”

Aizawa tugged on his scarf. “I do. Frequently. Under my own power.”

“Another Aizawa-sensei,” decided Todoroki, quiet but decisive. “Aizawa-sensei, but… funkier.”

That did it. Once this was over, he was expelling all the problem children and taking a vacation. The Rat God could find a sub.

“This is where I met Four the first time,” said Five, pushing the doors open. The auditorium was filled with rows upon rows of booths. All empty of people of course.

Aizawa, grudgingly, followed.

First contact.

Those voices… Something about them… The number.

“Those are your voices,” said Aizawa.

“Yep!” said Five. “It’s a special moment, you know?”

Aizawa frowned. At this point, he highly doubted that these ‘vestiges’ were simply based on real people. The vestiges themselves had to have reason to suspect that they were at least remnants of real people to give themselves a name like that, and with All Might thrown into the mix…

Add to that the repeated themes, the oddly ritualistic components (First contact and you’re next), Midoriya’s closeness with All Might, and Aizawa got—

Honestly, he had no idea. The fact that All Might was still alive tended to rule out the ‘Midoriya’s quirk is that he’s haunted’ theory, which, admittedly, was rather flimsy to begin with. Perhaps it was a legacy-dependent quirk, reaching back from student to teacher? He would be skeptical—Most quirks had some kind of logic to them, and there was no way to extrapolate entire people from contact with their successor—but Vlad King had a student whose head was a manga speech bubble and other abstract quirks existed. So.

It still didn’t feel right. Surely, Midoriya would have figured out his quirk before he was fourteen in that case. Unless All Might had to be involved for some reason.

Also, the fact that they called Midoriya Nine. Six’s explanation for that didn’t even make a little bit of sense.

Not to even mention the hints that All for One actually was involved in this somehow.

“Banjo-san,” said Aizawa, “there’s no truth in the commission’s accusations, is there?” He could have asked Six, but logically, Six would be the best liar, if he was the one chosen to relay the lie. Banjo Daigoro seemed rather less adept at deception.

The world seemed to gray out a bit. “Are you kidding me? What part?” asked Five, his eyebrows disappearing under his goggles.

“Yeah, sensei, there’s no way Izuku-k—”

“I’m not asking about Midoriya. I’m asking about you. How are you connected to All for One?”

Five opened his mouth, lips drawing back to reveal his teeth. He looked unspeakably offended. “You don’t think we actually work for that bastard—”

“Excuse me, sir!” interrupted Iida after Five had tacked on several rather fouler epithets. “There are minors present!”

“Oops,” said Five. “Anyway, we do not work for All for One,” he continued, failing to answer the question Aizawa had asked.

“That isn’t what he asked,” said Todoroki.

Alright. Maybe Todoroki wasn’t all bad. He was still on thin ice.

“Excuse me, is this a bad time?”

Aizawa nearly jumped out of his skin as a terrifyingly tall man in a hero costume appeared at the edge of his peripheral vision. He was taller than Yagi.

Actually, wait. Aizawa’s expert eyes roamed over the man’s hero costume. That was cosplay, not professionally done. The man was standing there, in Midoriya’s head, in front of two professional heroes, wearing cosplay. It looked like it had been hand-sewn.

It also looked like it had been used. And inexpertly reinforced. Even for a vigilante.

Somehow, in retrospect, this made Midoriya’s choice to wear a costume his mother had made for him for his first training session make much more sense.

Of course, Midoriya would have someone as ridiculous as he was in his head. Of course, he would have several people as ridiculous as he was in his head.

“Four, I presume.”

“I prefer Shimura, actually.”

“Oh!” said Uraraka. “Are you related to Skyrunner?”

“She’s my adopted sister’s descendant,” said Shimura/Four.

“Hey, hey, I thought we weren’t telling them this stuff,” said Five.

Shimura blinked. “My apologies.” He paused. “However, considering the structure of my mental domain, it is likely that they would have discovered my chosen name in short order.”

“Who do you think he’s based on?” asked Iida, leaning towards Todoroki.

“I can’t put my finger on it,” said Todoroki, “but he does feel familiar.”

“And why is that?” asked Aizawa, pretending he couldn’t hear his students.

“I have a lot of unresolved trauma relating to my biological parents and also my quirk.”

“Ohhhh,” said Todoroki. “He’s based on me.”

Wow. Another horrible thing Aizawa would have to deal with when he woke up.

“Isn’t your quirk Danger Sense?”

“That’s what Five-chan calls it.”

There was something extremely disturbing about this tall, intimidating, eyebrowless man calling another muscular intimidating adult man chan.

“But I call it—”

“Please don’t—” interjected Five.

“—super anxiety.”

“Why?” cried Five. “Danger Sense is a much better name! It’s like Spidey Sense! Like Spider Man! You like Spider Man.”

“Yes,” said Shimura, “but I am not Spider Man. However, that reminds me.” He turned his unblinking gaze towards Todoroki. “Nine-chan has several plans for removing your father. I believe only about half of them are workable, but it’s the thought that counts. At least, that’s what Yagi-chan says.”

“You mean All Might?” asked Aizawa. If his soul hadn’t already left his body, it would now be preparing to do so.

“No, my wife.”

“Yeah, don’t think about it too hard,” said Five. “He’s always been like this. I mean, he came up to me in the middle of this convention to tell me about a bunch of underworld deals going on out of town. I thought he was, like, some especially serious cosplayer, but then he showed up at my apartment, too.” The surroundings briefly shimmered into something that might have been the mentioned apartment before resolving themselves back into the comic convention.

“I apologize, I did not realize that was inappropriate.”

“I’m this little baby hero, just a couple years out of training, no name for myself, and this guy shows up like he’s in the middle of one of those old video games. Like, ‘here, take this old legend and defeat the demon king, you level one peasant.’”

“I didn’t expect you to fight him right away,” said Four, looking both vaguely offended and confused, and now, yeah, okay, Aizawa could see a vague resemblance to Todoroki.

“I’m still not entirely sure why you picked me, of all people. There had to be a dozen others with the right, uh, requirements.”

“Requirements, huh?” asked Aizawa, having finally managed to shove the part of his brain screaming about the ‘wife’ comment into a tiny, locked box in the back of his brain.

“Yes. As my other adoptive sister said, one must possess a strong will, an indomitable spirit, a sharp mind, a pure heart, and a ceaseless drive to save others, both body and soul.” He paused for a moment. “She also said something about being ‘just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing,’ but I believe that was a reference to the book she was reading at the time. Her parentage was certainly known at that point.”

“Y’see? I can never tell if this guy is serious or just pulling my leg.”

“Why would I pull your leg? Do you need to pop it?”

“I’m beggin’ you, man, learn some idioms.”

“WAIT!” shouted Todoroki. “Are you related to All Might? Is he your secret love child?”

The silence stretched between them.

“I don’t know what that is,” said Four. “You keep asking Nine if he’s one of those. What does it mean? Is it a good thing?”

“ANYWAY,” said Five, loudly. He attempted to prop his elbow on Four’s shoulder, but the height difference defeated him. “Four and I had lots of semi-legal adventures—”

“No, we didn’t,” said Four.

“Became best friends—”

“My wife is my best friend.”

“Let me have this.”

“Have what?”

Five sighed. “Okay, whatever. Fine. Can you cross them over here?”

“I think I’ll need the other one, unfortunately.”

“Why are you different, by the way?” asked Uraraka. “The ones before stayed in their own mindscapes, it seemed.”

“Oh,” said Four. “I’m having flashbacks. Because of…” He trailed off, then sighed. “Flashbacks.”

Right. Wonderful. “We’re going to have to deal with your flashbacks, aren’t we?” Aizawa asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Four said. “I apologize for my habit of oversharing.”

“This and that are two completely different things.”

“They seem like the same thing to me,” said Todoroki.

“I am inclined to agree. I also apologize for the things you may see. I will attempt to keep you away from the more disturbing sections.”

“Great,” said Aizawa. “Can we stop wasting time?”

“We aren’t really wasting time,” said Four. “At the moment, dream time is compressed. We’ve only been talking for…” He tilted his head to the side. “Perhaps a second, in terms of real-world time.”

“He’s right,” said Five, crossing his arms and nodding.

“Seconds are still time,” said Aizawa, hoping they’d get the hint.

“I suppose—Oh. You’re frustrated. Apologies. Neither of us have interacted with anyone but the others in… Quite some time. I fear our sense of hurry has been damaged. Especially with how distracted we all are.”

“Why are you distracted, if you don’t mind us asking?” asked Iida.

“Another unwanted guest is trying to get in and Nine and Ei—Nine managed to run into someone extremely dangerous.”

Eight. These people had a ‘live’ connection to All Might, too, damn it, and the blond idiot was wherever Midoriya was. Maybe that should have reassured him, somewhat, because even if All Might was retired, he was still All Might, but, by some dark magic, when All Might and Midoriya were placed in proximity to one another, they gained the ability to spawn problems that Aizawa had never even heard of before.

Like this one.

“Our final meeting, then?”

“I believe that would be appropriate.”

Black tentacles exploded from Five, covering the space around them. When they receded, they were in a different place. Underground, if Aizawa didn’t miss his guess. A safe house of some kind?

Flickering doppelgangers of Four and Five occupied the space.

“Why didn’t you transport us like that before?” asked Todoroki.

“Had to take the long way the first time,” said Five. “That lady’s quirk changed some of the rules. You ready, Four?”

“Let it play out,” said Four, gazing at the static figures.

“Your choice,” said Five, shrugging.

The ‘real’ Five and Four abruptly vanished, and the doubles started moving.

“I suspect this is the last time we will meet,” said an older Four to a younger Five.

“Huh? Why’s that?” said Five, twisting in his chair so that his arms rested on the top of the back.

Four stared blankly at a wall. “Everything is coming to a head, now. I’ve chosen to put my faith in you and the new laws.”

“Huh?”

“The last push of the old era… My big sister would scold me for trusting you.”

“Dude, you’re not making any sense.”

“My apologies.” Four turned to look more directly at Five. “The new quirk laws and the establishment of the Hero Commission are steps in the right direction, as evidenced by your existence.”

“Yeaaah, sure,” said Five. “But what does that have to do with not seeing each other again?”

“They’re not enough,” said Four. “Even now, certain existences cannot cry out for help. What do you do, when you can’t turn off your quirk?”

“You’re not going to go terrorist on me here, are you?” asked Five, nervously.

“No. I just want you to be aware,” said Four. He tilted his head to the side. “Whenever I go home, now, there’s danger on the horizon, and I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”

“Is it him?”

“No. I don’t believe so.” He sighed. “I suspect it’s the Special Task Force, to be honest.”

“They were disbanded,” said Five. “Any one of ‘em that didn’t get absorbed by the Hero Commission got let go. Or, er, what’s the term? Discharged.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” said Four. “Perhaps this is simply paranoia. I would certainly like it to be.”

“Look,” said Five. “Maybe I can help. You’ve never told me where y’all live, and—”

“Absolutely not. I am quite certain that he is still monitoring me to some extent. You do not want to be on his radar, Daigoro-chan.”

“Dude. Why do you keep calling me that?”

“You haven’t told me to stop.”

Five sighed. “I get it, I get it. Just… let me know if there’s anything I can do. I’m a hero for a reason.”

Four smiled faintly. “I know,” he said. “After all, I chose you. Good luck, Daigoro-chan. I think you’ll be able to do it.” He started walking away, towards the door.

“You, too, old man. Souma.”

Four stopped with his hand on the door.

“I believe we will see each other again,” continued Five. “Count on it!”

“In this life or the next,” agreed Four. He opened the door.

As they crossed over from Five’s domain into Four’s, the dream around them did not shift seamlessly, staying in the same general location with only the details changing like it had for the others, but dissolved into something not quite like static and then blank whiteness before fading back in.

They were standing in the middle of a battlefield, a ruined landscape.

Not the ruins of a city, though, which made this only more jarring. For all that Shouto was only a teen, he’d seen his fill of city battles. He was used to villain fights.

The only time he’d seen this kind of devastation in a place like this had been at the forest training camp last summer. He swallowed, eyes rolling over uprooted and burning trees, huge craters and ruts in the soil, and the rare bit of roofing and wall. He realized, belatedly, that this must be the remains of a small, rural village.

He stiffened at the sound of someone crying.

“Over there,” said Uraraka, pointing.

Shouto turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit hunched over one of corpses. His face was shrouded in smoke.

As he watched, he realized he wasn’t crying over a corpse. The other man was still breathing, his eyes were still open.

(It was hard to recognize Four’s face under all those injuries.)

He stepped forward, wondering if he should help, if he even could help. His hand passed through the man’s shoulder with no resistance.

“Shigaraki…” said the uninjured man. “Shigaraki Hibiki, you foolish child…”

Shouto wasn’t the only one to gasp.

“’S not my name an’more,” rasped the injured man, Four, Shouto realized now. “’N they gottaway, din’ they? ‘Sworth it…”

“What do you mean, it’s not your name? Of course it’s your name. It’s the one I gave you. The one you should have been born with. It’s your name.”

“M’name’s…” The man on the ground panted.

“Shh, shh, don’t talk, don’t talk Hibiki, I’m sorry I snapped. Don’t worry, Daddy’s going to make it all better, son. A healing quirk…”

“Name’s…” slurred the man. “Shimura… Souma… You…” He took a deep, rattling breath. “You don’t… own… me. I’m…” He made a sound that might have been a laugh. “Free.”

The scene began to go dark. Before the last of the light was gone, the uninjured man spoke again. “Shimura,” he hissed, voice promising violence, “was it?”

Yagi Toshinori was having the most surreal experience of his entire life. Considering his life included that awful college party in America, the one where he learned that One for All did not mesh well with psilocybin, that was saying a lot.

Here he was, riding on the shoulders of a man who had tried to kill him on the behalf of his worst enemy multiple times, alongside his student and successor, who was being called ‘Little Lord’ by the man carrying them. They were having an admittedly fascinating conversation about the man’s quirks, multiple, one that Toshinori was only barely keeping up with. Two of them were being actively hunted by the government.

That is, Toshinori, the retired professional hero, and Izuku, the licensed hero student, were on the run from the government. Not Gigantomachia, the mass-murdering minion of All for One, who was quite possibly the evilest man alive.

(And also, possibly Izuku’s father. But no one wanted to think about that.)

(Not to mention all the things going on in their heads.)

(This level of connection to One for All was thrilling, but also incredibly strange.)

Oh. And they were going to one of Toshinori’s safehouses. With Gigantomachia. True, Toshinori hadn’t been to this one in a while, but it was still a place that was supposed to be safe, hence safehouse, and Gigantomachia was decidedly not safe.

He was also going to be difficult to get rid of, because he had a sense enhancement quirk that let him track down individuals he was familiar with from miles away. Toshinori knew this, because Gigantomachia was currently happily telling Izuku all about it.

Surreal.

Izuku reached over and patted him on the shoulder.

Ah, yes, this was only made more surreal by the fact that Toshinori could feel how much pain Izuku was in, but the boy hardly showed any of it. It made him wonder. How often was Izuku in pain and Toshinori did not see?

Izuku patted his shoulder again, this time in a way that suggested he really wanted a hug but couldn’t give him one because he was holding onto Gigantomachia and the logistics didn’t work out.

Oh, and there was the safehouse.

Gigantomachia let them down a short distance from the building (he claimed not to want to get to close, because he’d accidentally knocked down buildings in the past, which Toshinori could easily believe).

The building was in better repair than Toshinori had expected after his long absence. He fished the spare key from its hiding spot and opened the door.

The back entry was full of people wearing black robes and skull masks, all of whom were scrubbing at bloodstains on the floors and walls.

Izuku fixed him with a disappointed stare. “I thought you got rid of the cultists.”

Yes, he had thought so, too. He had, in fact, worked quite hard at getting rid of them.

“You!” shouted a cultist, pointing. “You’re with that filthy League of Villains!”

“You killed our brothers!”

“Mutant-lovers!”

“Run?” suggested Izuku.

“Run,” agreed Toshinori.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #long night in the valley #fic #fanfiction #my writing

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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 2 years

Note

OMG thank you so much for uploading the documentary! It really was a lovely documentary. To echo on what was said earlier, it’s adorable to see Kash is as sassy as Freddie was LOL I can just imagine the two of them together with their parents. And I know we don’t talk too much about Bomi, but it’s heartbreaking to hear how he couldn’t bear to see his son withering away :( All in all, we have to give Bomi credit for raising a gem of a man. He might have been guided from values from a different time, but he instilled in Freddie the importance of being a gentleman and most of all, having compassion and a kind heart. I never get tired of hearing that in interviews, what a proper gentleman he was and how he always thought of others before himself. You know, these are values we learn at home from childhood. Bomi had Freddie when he was 38, so maybe the fact he was an older than usual dad prevented them from having a close bond but they clearly loved each other very much <3

Oh that’s a very good point about Bomi being an ‘older’ father. That may have very well played into their father-son dynamics. I’ve said this earlier, but I think Bomi was very similar to a lot of fathers of that time, who were kind of stoic, and wanted their sons to grow up to be Men. It’s like, they loved their kids, of course they did, but they didn’t show that love very often? I mean, of course, this is a generalisation. But I got the sense that Bomi was like that because of a few things that people have said about him, like Phoebe who once said that Freddie would rarely talk to his dad, even whilst being seated at the same table.

Of course, the homophobia also played into it, and that probably strained their relationship further. This is all speculation, lemme just add.

But, at the end of the day, Bomi (and Jer) loved his son, and his grief at losing him must’ve been unimaginable. Kash had earlier mentioned that she and Bomi would read all the articles, and cry together, wetting the paper with their tears. Her recent comments about Bomi wanting to be the one to die instead of his son adds to the thought that the sorrow must’ve been unbearable for him.

Unlike Jer, Bomi chose to stay quiet and take part in his son’s legacy at a distance. And I respect his choice as much as I respect Jer’s decision to take a more active and visible role in honouring Freddie’s legacy. Maybe that is why people think that he was emotionless. I don’t think he and Jer ever accepted Freddie’s sexuality, even after his death, but I think they loved him very much. And they didn’t deserve the pain of losing their child. No one does.

#asks

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piratesfromspace · 3 years

Text

Five Times Din and Cobb protected you - and one time they didn’t have to

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Cobb Vanth x Reader

Summary: The title says it all. Five Times Din and Cobb protected you, saved you, or just cared for you - and one time they didn’t have to. It's just self-indulgent fluff to make you feel safe and loved, enjoy!

Those small stories represent part 2 of my series “A Mandalorian, a Marshal, and some complicated feelings”. You can read part 1 here: “Two saviors and some hope”. I strongly advise you read it first!

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, alcohol, brief mention of past abuse, sexual harassment, depiction of PTSD

A/N: Neutral pronouns for reader. English is not my native language, please be kind. Fic also available on ao3.

Part 1 ✧ ☽ Chapter 1: The Bruises ☽✧

The first time is the day after Din and Cobb saved you from the slaver in the market of Mos Pelgo. The Marshal had already noticed the bruises left on your upper arm by the mean grip of your captor’s hand. He too was a slave once, and he knows. Worse than the pain, is the actual humiliation of seeing on one’s own body the bruises and cuts inflicted by a tormentor. In the afternoon, he comes home with some sort of ointment he bought off of an old lady that is kind of a healer. He offers to apply it for you. The swelling wraps all around your arm, making it difficult for you to reach on your own. You agree.

He’s quick and focused on the task, and you guess it’s not the first time he has to do something like this. His gentleness is almost startling, such a contrast with the faceless authoritarian figure he was just the day before, when you first encountered him. When he’s done, you can already feel the balm starting to soothe the pain. Although you’re not so sure whether it’s thanks to the actual ointment or the calming warmth of his hands against your abused flesh.

He wants to give you the small bottle containing the medication, but you explain you don’t have any credit to pay him back, cheeks hot with shame. His smile is bright and honest, and he assures you you don’t owe him anything. You thank him in a whisper. And you thank the Maker as well for sending him on your path.

✧ ☽ Chapter 2: The Cantina ☽✧

The second time happened during a weekday night. The bartender of the local cantina had an errand to run and asked you to replace him. Him being a dear friend of Cobb, you have accepted. Being a barmaid is one of the many previous jobs you have already done, and it is actually a nice distraction. It also is a nice way to earn some credits, let’s be honest.

As the evening unrolls pretty peacefully, a group of very loud male Devaronians enter the cantina, and you can smell trouble as soon they step a foot inside. You’ve already seen them around town for the past couple days, they seem to be resting here for a while before travelling further into the desert. Although their stay is temporary, they’ve managed to make themselves known to the local population as pretty annoying, searching to start a scrap more often than not.

They settle at the bar, ordering a round of spotchka, before one of them starts speaking about you like you weren’t there. “Hey what a pretty human we have here… I’ve heard humans are all soft and light, ‘wonder what they could taste like!” He follows the declaration by an obscene sound of mouth and an exaggerated lick of his giant tongue on his lips. His friends let out silly sneers at the dirty joke. You roll your eyes, when another expands: “Ugh, I don’t think it’s a good idea to eat humans, you know, I’ve heard they’re all bones and no meat.” “No, not like this Kard’ye, Kriff, you’re so stupid.” The whole group laughs loudly, while the aforementioned Kard’ye struggles to understand the innuendo of his camrade. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or a natural lack of intelligence, but they indeed all look pretty dumb.

Lucky for you, they let you out of their next conversations, and you tend to the rare other clients, praying for the Devaronians to leave soon. The night goes on, and you’re preparing to close the bar. All the patrons quickly leave, except for the bunch of Devaronians, of course. Just before you can tell them to go somewhere else, they order a whole round of the strongest - and most expensive - alcohol you have. You consider refusing, but you don’t want to be the one explaining to your employer why you let so many credits go away.

“This is your very last round, ok?” you finally say, not even trying to hide the exasperation in your voice.

As you’re serving them, you have a short moment of absence and the heavy bottle of alcohol escapes your hands. You try to catch it back with a gasp, but the brown thick drink ends up all over the counter and on the jacket of one of the Devaronians. “I’m so sorry! Let me cl…” you don’t have the time to end your apology that the thug grabs your faulty arm and pulls it toward him, your ribs hitting violently the countertop in the movement. You freeze, the memory of a similar situation suddenly invading your mind. The cruel hand of your captor. The burning sand beneath your feet. The feeling of despair. It’s all back at the front of your mind. The world is shutting down around you, it’s like you’re floating and being stuck at the same time.

“You stupid human, look at the mess you’ve made! You need a correction, maybe Kard’ye is right, I should actually take a bite, just to try…” the creature growls with a vicious smile, revealing two sets of sharp teeth. He tugs your hand closer, like he’s really gonna bite your fingers off. You can feel his lukewarm and disgusting breath on your skin but you’re incapable to move, completely frozen.

“Actually you shouldn’t” the familiar filtered voice takes you out of your paralysis. There is the sound of a blaster getting armed. “Or you won’t have any teeth left.” Din adds while pressing his blaster’s barrel up against the jaw of your aggressor.

There is a little bit of mayhem as the group of Devaronians pull out their own weapons, stepping back and shouting in surprise. Your attacker lets go of your arm, and turns slowly to face the Mandalorian. The threat of a fight is floating in the air as the orange-skinned alien is deciding whether to take offense or not.

His smile gets bigger and he raises both his hands in a mockery of surrender. “A Mandalorian, what a surprise! Are you a Marshal as well? Or maybe you just happen to share the same closet...” his drunk friends giggle at the implication.

“I’m no Marshal. And I make my own justice. Wanna try it?” He says, his blaster sinking a little deeper into the creature’s cheek. His voice is so steady and emotionless it’s borderline scary. “And if you think you’re insulting me by implying the actual Marshal of this town, the most brave man that I know, is my partner, then you’re even stupider than what I thought.”

The tension is thick as the smile on the Devaronian’s face disappears. He snorts loudly and spits on the floor, in a pathetic attempt to regain some stature.

“Well guys, let’s go out of this rat hole, the spotchka wasn’t even good anyway.” he says aloud for the whole group to hear. His companions grumble last threats while leaving the place.

Mando’s blaster is still aiming at their back as they walk out of the cantina, and as soon as the last one of them is in the street, he walks behind the counter and seals the door behind them with the push of a button. You watch him act, but you’re still stuck in the same position, your mind blank.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” you can hear the worry in his voice this time. You want to answer but you can’t, you open your mouth but you’re unable to produce a sound. You’re slowly coming back to your senses, tears of fear prickling in your eyes after the fact, like your emotions are just now catching up with what happened.

You’re desperately looking at Mando’s visor, searching for something, anything that would help you ease the wave of terror that’s preventing you from speaking. “Hey, you’re safe now, I’m here, they’re gone” he whispers, closing prudently the distance between you two, before pulling you gently in his embrace.

You wince when your injured ribs bump into the beskar of his breastplate, but at least the physical pain helps you get back to the here and now. He lets go immediately, startled, taking a step back.

“I… I’m gonna be fine.” you finally find the strength to speak to reassure him. “You’re a strong one, I’m sure you will.” There is no irony in his voice. His visor tips slightly down, toward your ribs. “Let’s go home and have Cobb take a look at this, okay?” You nod in agreement.

“I’ll come back and clean this mess.” he adds finally, while looking at the drink spilled all over the counter. Then his voice gets lower, laced with threat “And after that, I think I also have a few things to clean with some Devaronians.”

✧ ☽ Chapter 3: The Language ☽✧

The third time is all about a misunderstanding.

You go on your day, out in the streets of Mos Pelgo to buy some food. You still avoid the marketplace since it has a few brutal memories attached to it that are still too fresh, but it’s okay because you usually find what you want in the small shop next to the cantina.

As you make your way out, arms full of supplies, you miss a step and accidentally bump into a Tusken. Your groceries fell on the ground as you try to catch your footing, and you apologize while picking everything up, too embarrassed to look up at the stranger you just pushed. But the language barrier is not working in your favor, and the Tusken is quite upset. You know their tribe is not always welcome in town and the tensions were already pretty high long before you arrived.

You try desperately to remember the few gestures Din taught you, but you’re panicking and afraid to sign something wrong, making the situation even worse. The angry grunts of the Tusken are not stopping, and you try to apologize again, but to no avail. The loud quarrel doesn’t go unnoticed. More and more bystanders are stopping to look at the scene, and soon, there are quite a handful of villagers and Tusken around you both. Some of them start to take sides, humans insulting the Tusken, and Tuskens raising threatening fists at the town inhabitants.

It’s all going down pretty quickly, until you catch the shining glimpse of a beskar armor, and the rumble of a deep modulated voice. Mando parts the crowd, plants himself in front of the Tusken and signs in annoyed short gestures. He seems tired of this. Playing the peace keeper and the translator for two opposing sides was an honorable mission at first, but it begins to be more troublesome and repetitive those days. You can’t really blame Mando, when the townsfolk are not making the slightest efforts to include the Tusken tribe - and the desert warriors are not really helpful either. Nonetheless, you watch as Din tries his best to avoid a fight and calm the tensions. After a few back and forth, the offended Tusken finally shakes his head, weary, and signals to his group it’s time to leave. You’re relieved, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The crowd is dispersed, and Din helps you pick up the last of the food supply still on the ground. After a while, Mando finally breaks the silence between you.

“I’m sorry.

He answers your surprised look with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry you had to end up in the middle of this nonsense while you had nothing to do with it in the first place.”

“I am sorry too, I mean, I failed you. You taught me how to sign their language and I couldn’t even remember how to say sorry. I’m a bad student... Or maybe you’re a bad teacher?” you let out a half-hearted giggle, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Din’s visor drops slightly and you swear you've heard a chuckle.

At least you still remember how to make him smile.

✧ ☽ Chapter 4: The Scar ☽✧

The fourth time is a night when the pain in your back wakes you up.

Again.

You know you need to find a competent medical droid to fix what has become a chronic pain, but it’s easier said than done when you live in a small town lost in the desert on Tatooine. You turn in your bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, but after a few minutes of unsuccessful attempts you give up. With an exasperated sigh, you get up. The call from the painkillers still stored in your roommate's bedroom and the promise of an oblivious sleep is too strong. With some luck, you might even be able to sneak under Cobb’s blanket (you know he sleeps alone tonight) and cuddle against his warm chest without waking him up.

With silent steps, you sneak into his room, and quickly find what you’re looking for. It would be way convenient to have the medication stored elsewhere, but you suspect he deliberately keeps it there, so he can keep a tab of your consumption. Was he afraid of you getting addicted to the drug? And wasn’t he right to be so?

A voice interrupts your train of thoughts before you can step outside of the room.

“Leave the pills. And come here.”

You feel like a kid caught with their hands in the sweet-sand cookie jar.

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me get up.” you guess a smile behind the voice hoarse with sleep.

But you’re annoyed, your back hurts and he has no rights giving you order, he’s definitely not your dad or anything.

“I’m hurting, Cobb, and I can’t sleep, let me have that.” your answer is more curt than you want to.

“I’ll rub your back.” he offers. “Come here”.

He’s being really patient with you, and it’s even more annoying because now you can’t say no.

You lay on your stomach next to him and he straddles you, one leg on each side of your body, resting ever so lightly on your hips. He asks if you’d prefer to remove your top, and you fumble to push it over your head. Big hands are splayed on your back and you suddenly feel so small under the giant Marshal. It’s like he could cover your entire back with just his two palms. He gently massages your shoulders before going lower, working the knots out of your contracted muscles. The slightly callused skin of his hands feels like heaven against yours. Until he touches your spine and pain courses through your nerves like a lightning bolt. You jerk and let out a repressed whimper.

“Sorry, dear.” he whispers, worried. “should I stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

He starts again, careful, and despite some occasional - but weaker and weaker - surges of pain, you feel your entire body relax, and your eyelids getting heavier. The grounding feeling of Cobb’s body pressing against yours, the repetitive rhythm of his massage, the soft pillow under your cheek that smells like him: it doesn’t take long for your breath to get steadier as you slowly fall asleep. Before you’re totally gone, you feel Cobb’s lips leaving a gentle kiss on the scar on your back - the one you’re glad you kept as proof of the battles you’ve won.

✧ ☽ Chapter 5: The Desert ☽✧

The fifth time involves the desert and a storm.

In retrospect you really wonder what was going through your mind when you thought this was a good idea. Leaving the safety of the town to go out in the desert.

Alone.

Just a couple hours before a sandstorm - a storm you knew where coming.

But after another sleepless night due to the pain, and somewhat of a fight with Din (for stupid reasons you can barely remember now), you were more than upset. On edge, even. And a quick trip out in the open would clear your mind, you thought. You would totally have time to come back before the announced sandstorm.

Yeah sure .

Except you hadn’t planned for the nav computer of the speeder bike you stole in Cobb’s frontyard to break.

In the middle of nowhere.

Just dunes, and dunes, and more kriffing dunes all over.

The sky was cloudy, announcing the storm, so there was no way you could use the position of the two suns to help you figure out in which direction the town was. You tried to reboot the thing, even to disassemble it. Your attempts were useless. Fixing this computer was beyond your abilities.

And here you were, sitting on a speeder bike with no idea where to go. Which would be scary enough. If a sandstorm wasn’t coming.

You’re used to joke about your poor sense of direction, but right now you’re just angry at your inaptitude and your carelessness. There is very little you can do. As far as you see, there is just sand. Not even an isolated farm, or some sort of rocky valley where you could hide. Nothing, but sand. On your right, you can see the horizon slowly darkening, the sandstorm inexorably moving towards you.

So this is how I die , you think, on my own, in the desert of some forsaken planet, because of a kriffing nav computer. I’ve survived some of the worst things this galaxy can throw at you, and THIS is it?

You don’t know if you want to laugh or scream or cry, so you just walk around the speeder bike for a few minutes to try and calm yourself before sitting down in the sand, your back against the useless vehicle. Your only chance of survival would be someone travelling through the area. But with the storm, any reasonable beings - that excludes you - would stay in their village and not go out. Cobb is probably too busy preparing the town for the tempest to notice your absence. And Din, well, with your little quarrel, he surely isn’t gonna come check on you, not realizing you were gone either. Even if they eventually notice it, it’s probably too late.

You let your head fall back against the cold metal of the bike. The wind is getting clearly stronger by the minute, already picking up some dust. Soon it will become hard to keep your eyes open. Even hard to breathe. You pull your scarf up on your mouth and nose. Silent tears briefly roll on your cheeks before getting trapped by the fabric. The last hope you had to cross someone’s path was dwindling with every second. You look at the sky, swirls of brown dust staining the clear grey canvas above you. And then you notice a star, it’s weak at first, but it shines brighter and brighter. A deep tone, something too loud to be the sound of the wind, intensifies with it.

It’s coming towards you real quick and it’s not a star. It’s the flames of a jetpack. And attached to said jetpack is the Mandalorian. You get on your feet, your heart racing, and for a moment you wonder if you’re hallucinating. But he lands gracefully on the dune’s crest, muscular figure all clad in beskar, impressive as always. You run in his embrace, the earlier fight forgotten.

You want to explain, to apologize, to thank him, but there’s no time to lose.

“You need to keep this scarf on your face, to grab me and to hang on strong. Don’t let go whatever happens, got it?” You nod, tears of relief clouding your vision. “It may be a bumpy ride.”

He takes you into his arms, clutching you against him with all his strength and you’re both going up in the sky. His jetpack is at full power, trying to outrun the sandstorm. You can feel him straining against the wind, trying to protect you as best as he can from the flying grains of sand scraping your exposed skin. Unlike him, you’re not wearing any gloves or helmet, there’s no beskar between you and the world.

Through squinting eyes, you can finally see Mos Pelgo in the distance, and as you approach the town, you’re joined by another jetpack wearer. You recognize the red and green of Cobb’s armor. They were both looking for you.

It’s a matter of minutes, seconds almost, but you all reach the safety of Cobb’s home before the sandstorm fully hits the streets of Mos Pelgo. The door is closed in a hurry, all three of you tumbling in the small hall. The Mandalorian finally let you go, and you can feel his arms slightly shaking, muscles spasming after the long and grueling effort. The heavy jetpack is discarded on the ground with little care. His chest is rising quickly, his ragged breath creating weird sounds through the modulator of his helmet, a hand on the wall for support.

You don’t really know what to say and you stand in the hallway, trying to catch your breath as well. You can hear Cobb fumbling to remove his armor and helmet, and as soon as he’s free, he hugs you, whispering reassuring words, although you’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or to himself. And when he lets go of his embrace, he turns to Din and hugs him as well, slightly lowering his head down and placing his forehead on his helmet, a sign you know of affection and love.

“Let’s get you out of your armor, cyar'ika” Cobb’s husky voice is warm but your heart stings at the word. It’s Mando’a and while you don’t know the exact translation, you’re sure it carries a lot of meaning with it. It dawns on you at that moment, your foolishness may have caused one of them to be injured or worse .

You try to hide your self-loathing behind a blank face, and you start helping Cobb. You work in silence, removing every piece of beskar armor from The Mandalorian’s body. When you’re done, Din heads toward the refresher without a word. You want to cry, he’s obviously mad at you - if it isn’t for the trivial fight from earlier in the day, it’s obviously because you almost killed yourself and put his and Cobb’s lives at risk. You can’t hide your feelings anymore. An overwhelming wave of raw emotions hits you and you rush to your bedroom. Outside, the weather matches the storm inside your head.

A deep soothing voice shakes you out of your thoughts. You can’t really say how long you’ve stayed huddled on your bed. Maybe minutes, maybe hours.

“Hey, you know he’s not mad at you, right?”

Cobb is leaning against the doorframe of your room. He knows when to leave you space, but also when to check on you. You raise red eyes and a runny nose toward him.

“Actually I think he’s mad at himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s mad because he upset you and you left, because you got lost and he almost failed to protect you.” He pauses, crosses his arms on his chest. “Actually I’m also mad at myself, for not fixing that damn speeder bike earlier.”

You gasp, you’ve almost forgotten that part. The stolen bike is likely buried in sand as you speak. And if it’s still in one piece at the end of the storm, it should not take long before some jawas find it.

“I’m so sorry about that, Cobb, I… I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“It’s ok, it was a rusty scrap of metal anyway.”

Cobb lets out a chuckle, mischief back in his eyes.

“Although I may have to arrest you, you know, since I’m a Marshal and you’re a thief. Let me find my handcuffs!” he concludes with a wink, and you can’t help but smile at how corny he sometimes is.

“Now let’s see Din, he needs us I think.”

He grabs your hand to help you get up, and leads you to his room. The storm is still raging outside, and it’s dark, probably early in the night. He knocks on the door, opens it slowly, and in the very dim ray of light that flows into the room, you can guess Din’s back and a glimpse of his soft brown hair. He’s sitting on the bed, facing the opposite wall. Cobb shuts the door behind you both, casting the room into darkness.

“I’m sorry…”

“Please forgive me…”

Din and you both start speaking at the same time. There is a second of silence, before he resumes.

“No need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re here and safe now.”

His voice is unusually soft, a little less deep than through the modulator, more vulnerable, more human . It’s always a bit weird to hear his real voice, but at the same time you’re grateful to be able to hear it in the first place.

You climb on the bed, and you carefully reach for him, hugging him from behind. He grabs your hands and brings them to his lips, leaving kisses on your scuffed knuckles. You melt into his touch, and you both stay silent, but there is no discomfort between you. The sound of the wind outside is strangely comforting, some sort of a peculiar lullaby. The whole pressure of the day is finally released, and the only thing left is your gratitude and love for the two warriors in your life.

✧ ☽ Chapter 6: The Chiss ☽✧

And then there is the time when you can save yourself.

As the weeks pass by, you spend your days taking care of Cobb’s home, or working odd jobs here and there in Mos Pelgo, helping townsfolk with their businesses, trying to make some credits. You don’t really have a plan for your professional future right now. But regarding your freetime, you do have a plan. You’ve asked Din to train you in close combat. At first, he was reluctant, but you convinced him it was about guaranteeing your own safety and not becoming a bounty hunter or some sort of hitman like him.

His lessons were not the easiest to follow. He was patient, but he treated you with no special privileges, barely restraining his force when throwing you on the ground if you failed to escape his attack. He saw no point in playing soft or fair since a real-life aggressor would not be. You learned how to dodge and duck, how to aim for the weakest points of your opponent, and how to use your speed and lightness as a strength against what would likely be a bigger and stronger enemy. It was not about defeating an attacker. The spirit of the lessons were more about how to escape, run and hide efficiently.

You dreaded his lessons as much as you waited impatiently for them. You were pretty sure Din voluntarily over-played his toughness for the first couples of training sessions in order to test your will to really learn those techniques. But you could almost hear the proudness in his voice after each particularly grueling practice. Of course, your body was not spared, and more often than not you ended up with bruises and scratches in unexpected places. You had to reassure him quite a handful of times you were okay with this, because his guilt and fear of really hurting you was ever so present. He always took a moment after your lessons to take care of you, applying soothing balm over your bruises or bacta on your cuts, and those rare instances made you feel like you virtually were his equal, a warrior as well, not afraid of getting hurt in a fight. Of course Cobb always looked at the both of you with concern and suspicion, because he knew too well he was the one who would end up going shopping for medication and handling your healing process in the long run.

But Cobb was also an integral part of your plan. You couldn’t live with one of the best gunslingers in the area and not ask him to teach you how to use a blaster. The lessons were definitely easier to follow, and way less demanding. Cobb was a fun teacher, and while he was serious when sharing his knowledge, he made sure your training stayed enjoyable. Cracking jokes and delivering corny punchlines, calling you all sorts of outdated cute nicknames and cheering on you when you would finally shoot in the middle of the makeshift target of the day. Besides teaching you how to aim, he also showed you how to pull your gun faster than an adversary, the key to winning any fight according to him. When he was too tired after a long day of work to take you out, he would stay home and show you basic blaster maintenance. You would watch, mesmerized as he methodically disassembled his own gun before cleaning it, and re-assembling it with a speed you would not believe possible. Din would usually scoff at his little manly and self-indulgent demonstration, but you bet he was also impressed because you could clearly see the way his visor kept focusing on Cobb’s large and skillful hands. With their guidance, it took only a handful of weeks for you to feel more confident about your chances of survival in a fight.

While you suspected Din and Cobb both knew what motivated you to ask for their training, they never pushed you for any answers. It was about claiming your independence back, claiming your body back, and also a little bit about being prepared in the eventuality you’ll cross paths again with a certain Chiss slaver.

And then, one day, this eventuality becomes reality.

Din, Cobb and you, as well as a couple of other villagers have made the trip to Mos Eisley for a few days, in order to gather needed rare supplies, from mechanical parts to special medicine or new droids.

It’s your first day in the big town when you catch a glimpse of him, in the market. A flash of bright-blue in your peripheral vision. At first, you dismiss the alarm signal your brain sends you. It’s not because the alien is a Chiss, that it was this Chiss. But when he turns his face ever so slightly, you recognize him with no room for doubt. You try to stay calm and act like it’s nothing even though your mind is on a code-red alert.

You spend the rest of the day on edge, and you’re pretty sure Din and Cobb have noticed. As you all three settle in the small room you’re renting for the time of your stay, your suspicion is confirmed when Mando finally let out the question that was on his mind all day long.

“About who we saw in the market today, what do you want us to do about it?”

The tone is severe, no emotion in it, like a soldier ready to take any order. You left a moment of silence.

“I want to handle this myself.” you answer with a surprisingly determined voice.

Cobb’s brows furrow, he runs a hand on his face, and lets himself fall on one of the small beds. He lets out a sigh before adding an ominous “That’s what I feared.”.

You cut short to the discussion, because even if a Marshal and a Mandalorian want to discourage you to go on with this idea for your own safety, you’re still your own person. It’s your choice to make. They don’t push it, and you go to sleep with a very clear objective in your mind.

The next day, you see him again. He’s still in the marketplace and he’s accompanied by a couple of twi’leks in chains he seems to be trying to sell. It’s easy to forget what’s going on outside of the safe haven of Mos Pelgo, but here in Mos Eisley slavery is still a thing and the Republic isn’t in any rush to make it stop. It disgusts you, and your resolution only strengthens. You don’t have any specific plan about how you want to do it but everything falls into place when you spot him in a Cantina later that day.

The suns are already setting when your little group decides to go grab a drink. The Cantina is crowded with travelers and local inhabitants, but the tall Chiss is hard to miss. Of course, you two bodyguards have noticed him as well. As the night goes on, your eyes never cease to dart out of your booth and you have trouble focusing on what your lovers are discussing. Cobb is sipping on his third beer, relaxed. Din is playfully grazing his hand on Cobb’s knees while speaking, getting drunk in his own way. You, you barely touch your drink, too focused on your target.

Then everything happens really fast. You see the Chiss getting up from his stool and leaving, but Cobb and Din are now sitting at the very back of your booth and can’t see what’s happening. You smile at them and say you just need to use the bathroom before slowly walking out of their visual field with a calculated casualness. As soon as you reach the other side of the cantina, you slip out of the place amongst a few other clients. The night is clear, and the freshness of the air is welcome after the moist and warm atmosphere of the cantina. Your heart beats so fast in your chest it’s the only thing you can hear. Adrenaline is flowing through your veins like the most powerful drug in the galaxy, and you feel invincible.

The Chiss is walking further in the main street, and you start following him, your hand resting on the blaster on your hip, hidden under your long jacket. He’s alone, and as you silently creep behind him while he turns into smaller and smaller streets, there is no one left around you.

Suddenly, he stops in the middle of the alley. Without even turning back, he starts speaking.

“How long are you gonna follow me like this? You missed me?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. You’re a bit taken aback.

“You know who I am?”

He finally turns to face you.

“I had a doubt when I saw you earlier but then, I recognized the Mandalorian sitting at the cantina. Quite hard to hide such shiny armor.” he seems very amused by the situation. “I hope you had fun removing that chip, can’t wait to put a new one in your brain. And maybe I should have you branded. So no one will steal my property this time. I have to warn you though, it might be a bit painful.” He’s obviously getting high on his own cruelty.

“Stop it.” you growl through gritted teeth, barely recognizing your own voice.

But he goes on.

“Don’t worry, my crew will also take care of your two boyfriends. I’m sure they will greatly enjoy the little noises you’ll make when I’ll carve my mark into your skin in front of them, and then...”

“I said stop it .”

If there was any doubt left in you before this encounter, now it is clearer than ever: you need to end this. You need to end him .

Your hand reaches for your blaster but he’s quicker and he’s on you before you can do anything. He runs into you with all his strength, his right shoulder in your ribs, and you both fall on the ground. Your blood is already so full of adrenaline, the usual flashbacks don’t even have the chance to cloud your mind. The pain in your chest doesn’t register either. Your body reacts almost on its own, the long hours training with Din have you move on instinct. Your fist flies up into his nose which breaks into an awful noise, then to his eyes, while you try to kick him in the guts with your knee. He’s taken by surprise but not ressourceless and he has the time to hit your cheek before you manage to crawl from under him. He lets out a grunt of pain and tries to get back up on his feet, but it’s too late. The red lasers of the blaster blinds you. You fire once, twice, more times than you care to count. The Chiss in front of you falls flat on his face, finally silent.

You’re panting, on your knees, a steaming blaster in your hands. The cold air of the night useless to soothe your thrumming body, skin hot like flames were lapping at you, head spinning. The hurried footsteps suddenly stopping behind you take you out of your frenzy.

“Told you.” Cobb says with a shove into Mando’s side, before prudently crouching beside you, gently taking the blaster out of your hands.

“I’ve got you sweetheart.” he whispers softly while he helps you get fully up. “Are you hurt?” You shake your head, still high on adrenaline, not feeling the swelling of your cheek, your scratched palms and what is probably a cracked rib. Cobb is not convinced.

“Well, I doubt that, but we need to go now. Don’t want anyone to find us near this corpse.”

“No, wait!” you clear your throat and lower your voice “We need to take his access cylinder, and check out his ship, make sure there’s no one left chained in there.”

“Then we move now.” Din speaks at last, tone flat, and it’s hard for you to tell what he thinks of this whole mess. He sees you have a moment of hesitation, not really in a rush to search a dead body, and he spares you the gritty work, turning the corpse on his back and rummaging in the pockets and satchels of the dead Chiss to find what you’ll need.

You all leave the crime scene silently, running straight to the spaceport to find his ship. It’s empty, except for quite a few credits Din is happy to steal. The way back to your inn seems incredibly long, but you need the lengthy walk in the fresh air to let the pressure go down. You can hear Din and Cobb talk to each other behind you with low and concerned voices, but you don’t really care. Their conversation doesn’t last though, they catch up with your pace, and The Marshal slips a protective arm around your shoulder, which stays here for the rest of the way.

When you finally reach your room, dawn is only a couple of hours away, and exhaustion is hitting you like a wall. You crash on your bed, barely taking the time to kick off your shoes before rolling on your back and passing out, not even bothering to slip under the sheets.

The two suns are already pretty high in the sky when you wake up the next day. Most of your clothes are folded on the foot of your bed and there is a blanket drawn onto you. You guess Din and Cobb couldn’t let you sleep in your leather jacket and dusty cargo pants. Thinking of them , you don’t know where they are because the room is empty. You sit up, and you let out a groan of pain. Your ribs hurt like hell, your head aches from dehydration and overall you feel like you were hit by a running bantha. You manage to make it to the refresher, and you gulp long sips of water directly from the tap of the washbasin, consciously avoiding the reflection of your bruised cheek in the mirror. The water tastes like sand with an aftertaste of bleach but at least it’s potable - it is, right? You chose to believe it’s clean and settle under the thin water spray of the shower, trying to wash away the dirt of the past night.

With fresh clothes on and a clean face, you feel a little bit better, but there is still no trace of Mando and the Marshal. You don’t have to wonder where they are for very long though, because you soon hear their voices echoing in the hallway before the door slides open.

“Hello sunshine” Cobb’s grin could almost be enough to make you smile. “How are ya’ feeling? You must be hungry.” He gestures at Din and a little box full of steaming food is delivered on your knees.

“Thanks.”

The street food is not the most appetizing you ever saw, probably too greasy and too salty, but your belly rumbles in anticipation and you start eating without any further ado.

There is an awkward moment of silence between the three of you, no one really knows what to say regarding the fact you murdered someone for the first time of your life a few hours ago.

“He saw it coming and he deserved it.”

Din finally breaks the silence, voice steady through the modulator, and it’s like he’s reading your mind. Can Mandalorians even do that?

“You don’t have to feel guilty. Now the only thing that matters is you and your future.”

“And that broken rib we need to heal.” Cobb’s sounds amused “don’t try to fool me by saying you’re okay” he adds with a smirk, his own way of dealing with the situation.

You chuckle and you immediately regret it because it makes you wince.

“You got a point, Cobb.” you admit.

The couple next days are so uneventful, if it wasn’t for the pain still lingering in your chest, you could swear you dreamed what happened that egregious night. Nobody is really bothered by another random slaver missing after a party night at a cantina, especially not the local authorities. The streets are still full of busy travelers, the market full of loud merchants, the bars full of singing drunks. Mos Eisley is the same, even if you’re not anymore.

Nevertheless the trip back to Mos Pelgo still feels like relief.

You’re sitting between the Marshal and the Mandalorian in the transport, neatly tucked between a warm shoulder and cold beskar. Cobb’s fingers are absent-mindedly rubbing circles into your thigh, and you can hear the regular breathing of Din through his modulator. Combined with the soft buzzing of the ship, you feel like you could almost fall asleep.

You’re glad to be coming back to the small desert town. Glad to set foot on its dusty streets. Even glad to find again your tiny bedroom in Cobb’s house.

You realize the trip back to Mos Pelgo does not only feel like relief.

It feels like more than that.

It feels like finally coming home.

And no matter how many times the two warriors who crossed your path a few months ago had to save you, no matter how many more times they will have to, you now know you can also be your own savior.

You now know you can also be your own hope.

#Din Djarin/Reader #cobb vanth/din djarin #cobb vanth x reader #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal imagine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #reader insert #din djarin x cobb vanth x reader #hurt and comfort #fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #ptsd tw #cobb vanth

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cherrywoes · 3 years

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ichi. (acanthus.)

SAKURA GENTLY RAN HER fingers across the soft, barely there pinpricks of hair at the back of her head. The knots had been too large to untangle without time and copious amounts of conditioner, and while she lamented the loss of growth, she found she quite liked the style. There was enough hair left on the top of her head that it could easily cover the uneven lengths of hair clinging to the bottom half of her scalp. She peered at herself through a small hand mirror Tsunade had provided her and didn’t like what she found. She looked too pale, malnourished, and the once healthy glow she had when she was free had vanished. She looked every bit the prisoner they had made her to be.

Any hope she had previously shriveled up and died when she looked at the crimson mark upon her forehead. When she touched it experimentally, it zinged! into the back of her brain where she felt strange bolts of electricity bounce back and forth within and route back to the mark. It was a very harsh reminder that she was no longer Sakura Haruno—she was someone else, someone who killed her teammates because her pride wouldn’t let her admit to her own weakness.

She gave Tsunade the mirror and pointedly ignored the curious look the Hokage sent her out of the corner of her eye.

“Your trial will be as straightforward as it can be, given the circumstances.” Tsunade tucked the mirror into her pocket with a sigh. She looked tired, as well, as she always did since she had become Hokage. Using sake as her coping mechanism didn’t do her any good, either, despite her younger appearance; Sakura could see it weighing on her, the drag of age and idleness. “I don’t think there’s much you can do in your own defense except to be honest; if you’re lucky, the elders might put you in for an extended prison stay—or they could also execute you outright.”

“Isn’t that what everyone wants though?” Sakura pulled her knees to her chest and squeezed them in an attempt to comfort herself. She didn’t have Naruto to reassure her that everything was okay; he was outside of the village, tracking down an errant Sasuke—his life had boiled down into an endless chase of their former teammate. It was all he could think about the last time she had seen him, his mind focused on dragging him back to Konoha even if it was the last thing the Uchiha wanted for himself. He would hate her, too, for this. “For me to be executed?”

Tsunade frowned. “They want answers, Sakura. The families of the men and women you killed, the wives and husbands and sons and daughters—they all want to know why you did it.”

She closed her eyes, faces flashing through her mind in a quick succession. Yamanaka eyes; Hyuuga eyes; the large frame of an Akamichi, smiling, offering her slices of fruit. “I guess they’ll be disappointed when they learn it was because I lost my abilities and killed them instead because of my own stupidity.”

“You underestimate them, Sakura.” The blonde woman shook her head slowly and gathered up the worn and dirty clothes she had left hanging on the side of the basin. “They’re going to hate you for it. It’s your decision whether or not you give them further reason to hate you even more, or prove them wrong and make up for your mistakes.”

Sakura opened her eyes and stared obstinately at the wall, listening to the words unsaid: if they even accept your apology to begin with.

She didn’t expect acceptance at all.

When Sakura took her first step outside in months, the sun made her eyes water uncontrollably. It was no longer winter within Konoha—not that she had ever favored it to begin with—but autumn, the trees turning from green to a myriad of shades between orange, red, and yellow hues. The grass beneath her shoes was crisp, on the verge of decaying and preparing for the next winter, and filled the air with a familiar scent she hadn’t been sure she would ever experience ever again. The sun was comforting and warm as it surrounded her in a suffocating embrace, her skin already starting to turn rusty red with a sunburn. She didn’t mind it, though—it was almost a reminder of the life she had lied to keep and lost.

“Sakura.” Kakashi stood, waiting for her outside the doors of the prison complex. He was early and nearly on time, Icha Icha Paradise’s sienna cover just barely visible from behind his back, tucked away into his pocket. He looked as tired as Sakura felt, dark eye bags highly visible against his skin, so much so that it looked as if he had earned two right hooks to both eyes. “Are you ready? Or do you want to bask in the sun some more?”

Once, she might have thought he was teasing. But the look in his eye, the tone of his voice, all denoted that he was serious, that he would risk being late if she wanted to sit in the sun and burn just a little bit longer, to feel the freedom that had been taken from her by her own actions. She considered it, momentarily, looking to the sky. The light burned her eyes and a single teardrop fell from her right eye and slid down her cheek. “No.”

“Alright then.” He looked unsure, then, eyeing the ANBU guards that stood behind her in their respective Raccoon and Panda masks. She had never seen them before until now, but she knew that Kakashi didn’t recognize them, either, and it was most likely a deliberate move on the council’s part. “Let’s go then.”

The walk to the Hokage tower and, consequently, the council chambers where her trial would be held, was not a peaceful procession. People, ninja and civilians alike—faces she didn’t recognize, she thought with some relief, even though guilt gnawed at her heart—screamed at her, got so close that spittle flew in her face when they yelled obscenities at her. When words failed, they began throwing rotten fruit, vegetables, and even pots of molding and old food. Several slices of sour cantaloupe slid down her cheek, juices clinging to her skin, gnats flocking to the scent. Her ANBU did nothing to prevent them from chucking a pot of scalding chicken broth on her, either. They were for the public’s safety, not hers; and even so, they wouldn’t have stopped them even if they had been ordered to, she figured.

When it touched her skin, burned like acid and lit her body on fire, she didn’t scream. Burnt, acrid flesh was not a pleasant odor, and combined with the chicken broth, it sent several civilians away with nausea. She could hear them exclaiming over the stench with their faces pulled into looks of disgust, both at the people who had thrown it (fondly, because it was ‘justified’, however bad it smelled) and at Sakura as she trudged by, her skin livid red and breaking into fever. The flesh of her arm, some of her neck, and flecks on her cheek would scar, if the agonizing pain sending her brain into a white fog was any indication.

Kakashi, walking ahead of her at a leisurely pace, was forced to remain impartial. She could understand him, of course, in that aspect. The village would turn on him, too, and then he would truly have nothing left. His team was disbanded, Naruto had devolved into a man on an impossible mission and false hopes, Sasuke had left the village and become Orochimaru’s apprentice and, afterwards, his killer, and Sakura, his final remaining student, had become his protege, his perfect copy—a friend killer, a ninja killer, just as he was.

Perhaps, Sakura thought as she fixed her gaze on Kakashi’s shoes, fate worked in very obvious, very deliberate ways, and was not as mysterious as anyone ever said it was.

Sakura arrived at the Hokage tower dripping with steaming chicken broth, mold clinging to her clothes from various entrees of old food, and reeking of weeks old tea that was just on the verge of becoming kombucha. Shizune waited for them, her face harsh and pale and completely emotionless. If she had any opinion on her former friend’s crimes, she gave no indication of it, her mouth pulled into a straight, thin line, her lips as white as her face.

“They have already convened and arrived at a verdict.” Shizune’s dark eyes darted to Sakura momentarily, the pain there deep and unfathomable, and then back to Kakashi, flicking over the ANBU guards and the growing crowd rioting around the entrance of the building. “Her presence wasn’t necessary.”

Her. As if she was a thing to be spoken of, an object. Once that might have angered Sakura, might have forced her into an enraged spiel, but the only emotion she could muster up at the derogatory tone was faint irritation that was suffused by the harsh throb of the burns on her arm.

“Tsunade’s orders.” Kakashi shrugged. He glanced back at her, then at her burns, and sighed. “At least heal her. Those burns could get infected—”

“I am under order not to provide care to Sakura Haruno under any circumstances.” Shizune shifted uncomfortably at that. “As is the rest of the village. Basic necessities, and nothing more.”

Her former sensei said nothing else and Sakura refused to open her mouth and beg Shizune of all people to heal her. She should have been able to heal herself, yet she had not even a scrap of medical chakra to speak of and risked cutting off her own arm in the process. It would probably be preferable to the festering, infected blisters she would gain in the coming days—if she was even alive to experience it.

She suffered in her own silence, closing her eyes against the pinpricks of hot white light that threatened to send her into unconsciousness. It was easy to block out the pain when she was stuck in her head; her pain tolerance was high, but without the help of her seal, of Tsunade’s healing advice and her medical chakra, she was reduced to biting her lips to stop herself from squalling and collapsing onto the wooden floor beneath her feet. Blood flowed into her mouth, metallic and bitter, like the blood that flowed from her teammates’ veins.

Sakura didn’t know how long she stood there in a half daze, flanked by her ANBU and Shizune and Kakashi talking quietly in front of her in short, stilted sentences. Their opposing affections for her prevented them from talking casually; Kakashi’s guilt prevented him from hating her and Shizune’s righteous sense of justice prevented her from offering her even a shred of pity. They spoke in whispers, so she could barely make out what they were saying, but she could read lips as well as any ninja; mentions of war, famine, disease—which made no sense to her, for what could have happened in the span of five months?

“Shizune. Kakashi.” Tsunade’s descent down the staircase, assisted by the wooden handrail, was slow and awkward. She was a little too hunched over, favoring her right hip and leaning heavily on the wall to support herself. Her gaze darted to Sakura. “Sakura. You came here for nothing. The decision has been made. I’m sorry.”

Kakashi stilled to the point that she wondered if he was even breathing. “They’re going to execute her?”

“Execution… would be a mercy at this point.” Tsunade produced a scroll from her pocket. Shizune’s strangled gasp was loud enough that it caught the attention of the ANBU. It was a thin scroll, no bigger than an index finger, and lined with gold and red trim. Sakura had never seen such a scroll in all her life, but with the way Kakashi went pale and Tsunade looked so defeated, she had to wonder what fate could be so awful, so terrible that even her nonchalant, uncaring teacher would appear to be frightened and disgusted. “The orders are clear and the vote was unanimous. Sakura Haruno will be given to ANBU, given a rank within the War Operations party, and shipped to the frontlines by dawn tomorrow.”

Shizune inhaled sharply. “It’s a death sentence in its own right.”

“Sakura isn’t suited for war,” Kakashi advised, voice breaking slightly. “They couldn’t agree on anything else? Not even execution?”

Tsunade shook her head slowly, guiltily. “Execution was too clean for them. A prison sentence was a slap on the wrist. The people wanted blood—so they gave it to them. Let her spill it for the name of the village, for the people they lost, they said.”

“And what if she survives?” Sakura couldn’t ignore the thread of concern that wove through Shizune’s question. “What about after the war?”

Tsunade looked at Sakura, then, her mouth turned downwards into a deep frown. “Then she may be free; but she can never return to Konoha.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Tsunade passed the scroll to Kakashi and vanished back up the stairs to her office, Shizune following without a glance back. The ANBU removed the chakra cuffs on her wrists, and while it might have felt like a cooling sensation when it returned to her system, all she felt was pins and needles, her nodes brimming to life with malicious energy. She rubbed her wrists tenderly, avoiding the burns as much as she could, and felt Kakashi’s hand land on her shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Come on.” He veered her towards the back exit, where the crowd wouldn’t be able to see her. “We’ll go to my apartment, fix you up, and grab some supplies. Then… Then we wait.”

Wait for her inevitable departure and then, most likely, her death, of which Kakashi would probably never hear about.

“Kakashi-sensei?” She croaked. She could feel tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, burning her lash line and a knot forming in her throat. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

He paused, hand reaching for the knob of the exit. “Of course, Sakura.”

“Take care of my parents for me, please.” Sakura blinked rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes, the pain in her arm dulled to a numb sensation. If she hadn’t lost all of the nerves in it, she would count it as a blessing, even if she deserved it. “Without me, I don’t think they…”

“Don’t worry.” Kakashi ruffled her hair with a playful hand. It wasn’t quite as effective as it had been when it was shorter, but she could feel the affection within it besides. “I’ll watch over them, Sakura, I promise you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he pushed open the door, sunlight spearing through the crack and enveloping her in its oppressive warmth once more.

That night, if Kakashi had any complaints about Sakura sneaking into his room and hugging him tightly, sobs wracking her lithe frame for the first time in months, he didn’t say anything. If she noticed him hug her back, tears running delicate rivers down the striped pillowcase he laid his head on, she gave no indication, pouring her soul out for possibly the last time in the safety of the arms of someone she loved.

Dawn broke, and with it, so did the remnants of Kakashi’s heart.

prologue | masterlist | 二 (ni)

#naruto #naruto shippuden #sakura haruno #kakashi hatake #sakura haruno x kakashi hatake #kakasaku #kimisaku #sakura haruno x kimimaro kaguya #sakura x kimimaro

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