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zevlors-tail · 4 years

Note

Hi I feel really bad for sending in an emergency request but bakugou, deku, or kaminari comforting and helping a reader who is going through a major depressive episode with suicidal thoughts. I’m so sorry I feel really bad for asking

A/N: I could not have gotten this at a more convenient time. I just want to say thank you for requesting this, and please don’t be sorry for asking about this. If you want to talk my dms are open, but I hope this helps! This was extremely cathartic for me to write. I only did Bakugou for the moment, but I fully plan on coming back at some point to at least add Denki (and also Deku eventually). Bakugou as a secret comfort character for me? It’s more likely than you think.

TW: Suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, suicidal reader, depression. PLEASE DO NOT READ if these things trigger you. It’s extremely descriptive and emotional!

Bakugou Katsuki

“Hey...are you okay?”

You barely snapped out of your foggy trance as you slowly blinked, your coworker’s face coming into focus eventually as you gathered your surroundings you had long since forgotten about. Your response was immediate, familiar words strung together with little effort after saying them over and over again. No longer did they drag you down and taste like lies in your mouth; now they were just the ghost of a feeling you struggled to remember, an empty shell with hollowed out meaning.

“Oh, yeah...just tired,” you drawled. And you were.

There weren’t too many days anymore that you didn’t feel drained, didn’t feel like the weight of the world was sitting on your shoulders. You felt heavy- both mentally and physically, like there were weights tethered to your arms and legs. It made you feel utterly exhausted at the end of every day and stole your motivation to get up in the morning. Your bed never seemed more comfortable, and your sheets never seemed so warm. If you had the choice, you would allow yourself to lie there forever, to skip work in favor of sleeping through the whole day, because what good was there in being awake, anyway? Lately it just seemed like everything was a waste.

“Are you sure? You just seem...down.” Your coworker gave you a concerned look, and you thought it ironic that the day you felt you might snap was the day everyone chose to finally ask if you were alright. Maybe she could see it on your face, or maybe you finally looked how you felt inside. Whatever the case, you didn’t care. In fact, you hardly cared about anything; it was hard to care about your life when you felt there was no value to it.

“I’m fine! Just really tired,” you repeated without hesitation.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” She seemed to take the explanation without any further question, shrugging and turning around to get back to what she had been doing before. “Just make sure management doesn’t catch you staring off like that; I think they’re in a bad mood today.”

Logically, you knew you were dealing with depression. Depression was not something new to you; this had happened before, and you had managed to dig yourself out of your own hole each time, but this time was...different. Logic didn’t stop the thoughts rampaging through your mind, didn’t quiet the voices that told you others would be better off without you. You felt like a burden to everyone, a walking problem that caused trouble everywhere you went. Just this morning at work you had dropped something accidentally, and it had spilled all over the floor and under the tables, the mess reaching into the cracks and crevices of the tiles where it would be harder to get to. You had done the best you could to clean it up, but in the end, the janitor had to step in and clean up the mess that you made. Maybe it was just an accident, and maybe you didn’t mean to spill your food, but you couldn’t see past the fact that you were always like this. Always spilling things, always causing problems for others, always inconveniencing everyone you came into contact with. Maybe...it would be better if you had stayed in bed all day instead of coming to work.

Maybe it would be better if you had never woke up in the first place.

...No!

You shook the thought from your head, doing your best to ignore it and focus on something else. Come on, you told yourself, focus on your job. But your mind remained hazy as you continued on with work, and it only served to cause more problems for you. By the end of the day, you had accidentally dropped a couple more items, slipped on some water and fell face first to the ground, and towards the end of your shift, just as you were clocking out, you bumped into an unruly customer who was clearly having none of it today. Hands reached out to shove you away and you stumbled, tripping over your own feet as you tried to get a grip and regain your balance.

“Watch where you’re going, god! Are you blind or something!? Jesus!”

For any other person, it might have just made them upset or angry, but it would have been passed off as a bad day, a bad moment in the grand scheme of things that would go away with time. But for you? For you it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Whatever motivation and will to live you had left, it was gone within the instant, replaced with a numb, empty feeling. What was the point in all of this? If this was life, if you were constantly going to cause problems and get in people’s way, what was your purpose here?

If nothing was enjoyable anymore...you just wanted it to end. It was too late for you anyways; you felt too far gone to be saved. And honestly...what was even left to save? You felt like a shell of your former self.

And that was how you left the store, feet dragging against the ground as you numbly walked to your car to go home. It took you a while to collect yourself, so you sat there for a few minutes in the parking lot, keys stuck in the ignition and hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. Finally, you worked up the will to actually start the car, and then you were on your way home. Home...where you would probably just lie through your teeth again and go lay in bed for the rest of the night.

Bakugou was in the kitchen making dinner when you padded through the foyer and announced your arrival, the smell of spices overwhelming rather than inviting or enticing. But then again, you didn’t have much of an appetite lately, and you found the thought of sleep to be more appealing than the thought of food anyways.

“I’m home.” Your voice was quieter than usual, your tone flat and monotonous. Bakugou didn’t respond for a minute, and you wondered if he had even heard you over the sound of something sizzling in a pan.

“Y/N, that you?” A head poked out from around the corner, red eyes meeting E/C. “How was work?”

“It was work.” You blinked and kicked your shoes off haphazardly, your body already caving in on itself as you made your way to the bedroom. If Bakugou noticed the change from your usual demeanor, he said nothing about it, only going back to what he was doing in the kitchen when you retreated to your sanctuary for the night.

Finally alone with your thoughts, you crawled under the soft sheets with your work clothes still on and curled up, eyes already shutting even before your head hit the pillow. At some point you must have managed to fall asleep, because the next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by Katsuki, a sweet and savory smell drifting through the air. Your stomach rumbled, and though it felt empty, you still didn’t feel like eating emotionally. The only thing you seemed to feel now was a heaviness settling on your soul.

“Y/N, come eat.” Either you were imagining things or Bakugou’s normally gruff voice was more gentle and relaxed as he woke you from your slumber.

You protested with a whine, your face scrunching up in annoyance from being woken up. “Tired...” you mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you haven’t had anything since you came home from work, babe.”

“That was only an hour ago...” you started, your voice still thick from sleep. But as you looked towards your alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed, you were surprised to find that the little digital numbers read 11:58 pm. You’d slept for a little over five hours since you had arrived home. “Shit-!”

That seemed to do the trick, and you were scrambling up and out of bed in no time, panic and confusion washing over you from your prolonged nap. Had you really slept so long? You hadn’t meant to, but it did feel nice to have a small break from everything you felt when you were awake. And again, you caught yourself wondering if maybe the world would be better off if you never woke up. Eventually the haziness of your dream state faded, leaving you with the same reality you had been facing earlier in the day. You wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and curl up in your state of melancholy, but you were up now, and Katsuki would worry if you didn’t eat anything.

The two of you made your way to the dinning room table where a plate of reheated leftovers sat along with some silver cutlery, a cute little holiday napkin leftover from Halloween resting next to it. You stared at the pumpkin covered paper for a while before picking up your fork and stabbing at whatever dish Bakugou had decided on for dinner. Lately he seemed to be on a vegetable kick, though a healthy dose of fruits and meats were also thrown into the mix for balance. You mindlessly chewed, not really paying attention to the flavor if there was any at all. In fact, it felt like you were chewing cardboard. You didn’t enjoy the taste or feel; you only ate purely out of habit and need to.

“Do you not like it?” Bakugou pulled you from your reverie of thoughts, your head snapping up in his direction when he spoke.

“Huh?”

“The food. You’ve barely touched it in the last ten minutes.”

Ten minutes? Since when had that much time passed? Looking down at your plate, you realized he was correct. Over half of your food remained untouched, bits and pieces of it spread around from your fork and pushed to the side as if it was your least favorite meal. You hadn’t even noticed you were playing with it, and you wondered how long you had been just sitting there scooting food around with a blank look on your face.

“No, it was good.” Liar. You’d hardly been able to taste it. But it wasn’t just food that had lost it’s merit to you, if you really thought about it. The world just didn’t seem as lively; colors seemed washed out and faded, food held no taste, and music just didn’t sound the same. Nothing was enjoyable for you anymore.

“Y/N. You know you can tell me if there’s something going on, right?” Bakugou’s eyes bored into you while you just stared at the brightly colored napkin.

“Yeah, I know!” you chirped back, eyes briefly flickering up to meet his gaze before returning to orange pumpkins.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” It sounded like a question, but really it was an invite. He knew there was something going on with you. Asking you was his way of giving you room to explain yourself before he decided to pry. Usually he was mindful of any boundaries you might have had, but Katsuki was never a fool, and you tended not to open up easily. Sometimes a little pushing and prodding on his part was necessary.

“Not really? Just work, but it was the usual. I’m just tired.” Even as you tried to pass your unusual behaviors off as a bad day at work and exhaustion, you couldn’t hide the sour note that slipped into your voice along with the visible scowl you made. But the emotions were short lived, and you were back to feeling defeated and down within mere seconds.

“Hey...” You felt compelled to look up at him when he softened his voice even more, but everything in you told you to hold back and keep staring at those damn balls of orange on the napkin. Why, you weren’t sure- maybe it was to keep from crying, or maybe it was to suppress the feelings that were slowly surfacing within you, or maybe it was just because you no longer cared. “Are you alright?”

You visibly winced when he asked. Suddenly everything hurt; everything was a mess, it was all wrong, all of it, and you just wanted it to stop. The pain, the numbness, the thoughts- everything. It felt like you hadn’t been able to catch a break since the day you were born. Day in and day out you lived like that, and no one would ever ask if you were okay. No one took the time to check on you properly; no one seemed to notice when you felt like you were at your worst. Well...no one except Bakugou. He’d been your rock for a long time now, but lately everything had gotten much worse, and you had kept certain things from him so as not to burden him with your troubles. In your eyes, he had enough of his own problems; hero work was already rough on him as it was, so you kept things to yourself so he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

“Why does everyone always ask that when it’s already too late?”

The words tumbled uncontrollably from your mouth as your brows furrowed, a pained look clouding your dull eyes. Bakugou took a moment to process what you said before responding, eyes still locked onto you.

“What does that mean?” He already knew. You could hear it through the apprehensiveness in his voice, see it in the way he gritted his teeth anxiously. “Y/N, what does that mean?”

You glared at the blurry orange shape below you (were you crying...?), refusing to look Katsuki in the eyes. You were afraid of what might happen if you did. “I’m just...a waste of space.” There was a strange conviction to your voice, as if you’d made up your mind about something. Bakugou did not miss this. You, however, did miss the flash of fear in his ruby eyes as you spoke. “I cause problems for everyone I meet. I’m just a giant inconvenience to the world, and everyone would be better off without me. I don’t matter.”

“Y/N.”

“Would anybody even care if I was gone? I mean really, what difference am I making here?”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“It would be better that way. People wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore, and I don’t have to deal with all of...this.” You made some sort of gesture with your hands, your voice cracking as you held back hot tears. “Life. It’s just...it’s so exhausting. I’m so, so tired of having to wake up every day and drag myself out of bed and live. Nothing is fun anymore, and it’s hard just to breathe. I mean, seriously!? Come on, ya know? I didn’t ask for this, I don’t want to live like thi-!” You choked up, silent sobs wracking your shoulders as you buried your faced in your hands.

Across the table, Bakugou slid from his chair and made his way to you, feet thudding against the floor as he quickly closed the distance and kneeled down to your level. “I knew something was wrong, but...” He gently cupped your face in his hands, palms warm against your tear stained cheeks. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You struggled to remember when this all started. Minutes turned to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks that blurred into months eventually. Time blended together, and you couldn’t recall the last time you felt able to get up in the morning without feeling like it was a chore. “I don’t know...” you answered honestly.

Bakugou rubbed his thumbs against your face carefully, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he brought you into an embrace against his chest. You didn’t fight it, instead leaning into his touch while crying, and the two of you stayed there for quite some time before Katsuki spoke up about how he was feeling.

“You may think that you don’t make much of a difference here on this earth, but that’s just utter bullshit, Y/N. You make a hell of a big difference to me and everyone else around you, and you would be sorely missed and grieved over. Don’t you dare for one second think that you’re not important or loved, because you are; you are so, so loved.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you cried.

“I know, babe. It’s hard to see it right now, I know. Your mind is telling you the opposite. But believe me when I say you are the most loving and caring person I know. You’re always reaching out to others, maybe even a little too much, and you’re always checking on them. You’ve made a world of difference to everyone. Your friends need you, your family needs you, and I need you here. And I would be devastated if anything were to happen to you.” It was hard to believe anything he said. You wanted to, you wanted to so desperately. But you weren’t sure of anything anymore, and the most you could do was cling to him like a koala and hope that what he said was true. “Let me in. Let me be there for you. Trust me, please.” You’d never heard those words from Katsuki before. They sounded odd coming from his mouth, like they didn’t really belong on his tongue. But you listened because it was Bakugou, and you wanted to trust him. You wanted to be able to feel okay, and he’d always been there no matter how much you’d tried to push him away.

“Okay,” you murmured against his chest, your tired eyes drooping shut in exhaustion. Your shoulders followed suit as they slumped downwards, and you gave in and crumbled into his arms.

“You’re not a waste of space. You’re extremely important to me, and I don’t tell you that enough. Every day when you leave for work, I miss you. I love when you come home and greet me, and I’m a better person because of you. Y/N, you’ve gotten me through shit I didn’t think I was going to make it out of. And you know what? We can do this. We can do it together, and it’s going to take a lot of work, but we will do it. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You couldn’t help but to smile at that. “And I know you feel like a burden, but you’re not. Your problems are never a bother. People are here for you, they want to help support you and listen to you. I want to support you. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s gonna be okay. I love you.”

You couldn’t stop the fresh tears from falling, quiet hiccups taking over you as you cried into his shirt. “I love you too,” you managed somehow.

Bakugou rubbed a hand over your back, his chin coming to rest on your head as he sighed. “I’m not going to let you give up on yourself, no matter what.”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #katsuki #bnha #mha #tw suicidal thoughts #tw suicidal ideation #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: depression #tw depression

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the-witches-you-couldnt-burn · 3 years

Text

Living with what you’ve done

Uhhhhh

UHHHHHHH WHAT

Ok so I started writing the 100 special but then I got to 120!?! Wtf when did this happen?

Though I would like to thank each follower personally I have social anxiety and would rather not randomly message strangers following me. Here is my public thank you!

Idk what I did while writing this but it seems I managed to copy-paste the beginning four seperate times. This brought the word count up to 5.9k but it is now edited and brought down to 2.3k

Inspired by my friend @deltaxxk who loves angst and told me I have to write a follower special

Other prompts used: One, Two

Also! There are movie references within this fic, if you get them all you get a virtual lollipop 🍭

Ao3

Disclaimer: THIS FIC IS MAJORLY ANGSTY PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF ANY OF THE WARNINGS WILL TRIGGER YOU

Warings: blood, fire, death (+graphic descriptions of dying), injuries, grief, human trafficking and mentions of psychopathy

———————

“Robin we’re out of time! We must leave, we’re out of time!” Her yo-yo strained with tension as she swung into a goon, sending their body flying away from her team.

They had gotten a lead on a meta trafficking ring that involved some of the Gotham elite’s children disappearing. The lead brought them to the dock, GothDrill’s warehouse sat just off to the right. Its fluorescent lights signifying signs of life, Marinette knew most weren’t there willingly.

“Make more time!” He snapped back. Ladybug fumble slightly before regaining her footing, she wasn’t expecting the coldness in his tone.

She jumped back into the fray and watched from the corner of her eye Damian take on four goons by himself. She stifled a sigh before punching the man in front of her square on his jaw, ‘must he always prove himself when he has already?’ Damian edged himself closer to the garage doorway of the shed before disappearing into the building.

Focus her attention back on the battle around her, she saw Red Hood downed under a steel beam. She rushed over, and with her enhanced miraculous strength to lift the offending metal. He groaned with pain, the beam had pinned his legs, forcing him to lay stomach down. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, supporting the majority of his weight to get him to his feet. Pain throbbed in his left leg and they stumbled onto the dock to hide behind down GothDrill crates.

Ripping the seams of his pant leg, she revealed a dark purple bruise that was rapidly spreading. She also discovered the beam had broken his femur and shattered his kneecap, how he wasn’t screaming in pain was beyond her. Pink light danced between her fingers before drifting down to his wound. Jason bit his hand to prevent any cries from leaving his mouth. He didn’t want another confrontation in his state.

The sound reached her before the light did. Jason panted as he looked up to see what distracted her from his healing. Reflections of orange and yellows dancing across her cerulean eyes. “Damian.” She whispered frozen stock still.

Something within her very core snapped and cardinal urges overtook her common sense. Shooting up like a bullet she sprinted towards the blazing inferno, her ears numb to the world around her.

Inside was worse than the burning exterior. She could see where the explosion originated from, big barrels of flammable chemicals blazed white with heat. The smoke and burning chemical gases penetrated her airways, coughs racked her chest.

She could see flames running up the walls and the lit barrels but the rest was black. The smoke was a blanket of darkness that wrapped around her.

And then she heard it. The screaming.

Multiple voices, so raw with pain, masculine and feminine, old and young. Running towards it she hoped to spot Damian but luck wasn’t on her side. Instead she found the trafficked civilians, their bodies red with burns with their hair and clothes set ablaze.

She ran full speed at the wall nearby, shattering the melted bolts. The fire blazed brighter at the new source of oxygen. She directed the victims out, the dove towards the water. The goons had fled during the initial explosion leaving the Batfam free to help.

She looked down at the bodies of those who didn’t survive. Some were burned beyond recognition, she kept looking, scouring for Damian.

She heard Red Robin calling her name, she looked up to see the scaffolding holding the roof breaking apart and falling to where she stood. She felt her body tackled out of the way and another thunderous crash hit the floor.

She was dragged outside and placed into the care of a newly arrived ambulance. Her eyes, red from the smoke and ash, looked out the back door of the vehicle. Firefighters and police had arrived on scene along with news reporters and the public. Families of the trafficked were reunited with their lost love ones and others mourned their deceased. Red Robin stood there, watching her.

“You can’t just follow me into fire.” She croaked to him, her oxygen mask muffling her.

The whites of his black cowl narrowed and his fists clenched. “Then don't run into fire,” he growled at her before walking off.

Her body moved without thinking, removing her oxygen mask against the protests of the paramedics. Ladybug reassured them she’ll be alright and that they should help the others who were more injured than she. She walked back towards the building but the black-clad figure of Batman stopped her stride.

“You’re not using your cure.” He stated. Her eyes widened, the cure could save his missing son, save the trafficked from their injuries and deaths. Who was he to deny the will of a god’s favoured?

Using the cure in Gotham was always straining and the Batfam knew that. On multiple smaller occasions, she was prevented from using it due to the amount of damage and crime being reverse causing serious health concerns they observed in Marinette. But she never thought it would also be denied on an occasion like this.

“I have to! Robin cou—“

“No, you could die.” He cut her off, her foggy mind becoming more enraged.

“And he could live!”

Without a reply he injected her neck with a sedative, her body collapsed from the drugs and exhaustion. The world going dark around her.

+++++++++++++

Three days after

Her blaring phone distracted her from her dissociative state. She was staring lifelessly at her TV, she could say what happened in the show even if her life depended on it. She scrambled to her phone, Dick’s name lit up the screen.

She accepted the call, answer with a hoarse “hello?”

“Marinette? Are you able to make it over we have some things to tell you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Pressing her phone to her ear with her shoulder she ran around her apartment, grabbing her keys, shoes and jacket. Rushing out the door she rapidly fired questions at him, “What is it? Did you find him? Is he there?” All of which were answered with silence.

“It’s best that we discuss this when you get to the manor.” And with that, he hung up. The click seemed to echo in her car, even though she knew it didn’t. Driving towards the outskirts of Gotham where Wayne manor resided, she felt a spark of hope rekindle in her chest. Although Dick didn’t give her much to go on she still hoped they found him and everything could go back to how it was.

Fate wasn’t merciful to the naive it seems.

Her world shattered around her as she saw the crisped cape on the table. The smell of burnt blood permeated the room. Her eyes stayed locked onto the cloth as she spoke, “But this is only his cape, not his body. He still could be alive somewhere! He is injured and hurt and we have to find him!”

No one spoke. Their eyes flicked to one another.

Jason limped in her direction, his crutch clicking against the stone flooring. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his eyes brimming with unshed emotions. “The cape was found with the body, everything else was unsalvageable except the cape.”

A silent “we’ve found him, just not how we wanted,” resounded throughout her being.

She glared at Bruce, “He could be alive if you didn’t stop me! I could have saved him!” She lashed out, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“And we would have been having this exact conversation with Damian about why we didn’t stop you. The best outcome for this situation was you living.”

“No the best outcome was both of us being given a chance at survival” Marinette screamed at him, his face was emotionless. How could he be so uncaring to the fact of his youngest son dying?

Running out of the Batcave and manor she gasped at the cold night air. A sob escaped her mouth. Her head banged against her steering wheel, tears dripping onto her pyjama pants. There was no way she’d be able to sleep tonight.

++++++++++++

Twelve days after

Fire danced in her peripheral. A medley of bright oranges and golden yellows. She remembered the times when the two of them would watch the sunset in silence, sipping on hot chocolate and green tea. This blazing inferno was different. Its colours more violent and foreboding.

The screams. They were different from the ones she heard that night. They were his screams.

She saw her body encased within his burnt arms. Damian was little more than a burnt corpse, his eyes blazed green and his bone was replaced with metal pipes. The cure resurrected him but he was not wholly there anymore.

She awoke screaming. Not in control enough to remember she had neighbours; mentally pleading that they’d understand. They knew of his disappearance but not of his death. She was still heavily in denial.

She isolated herself away from everyone, afraid she would hurt anyone else that got close. She couldn’t stop wanting to hurt Bruce for making her unable to use her cure or the goons for setting the place alight and killing her fiancé. She wanted to go scorched earth.

She snuggled into his pillowcase, his faint scent of honey was still present. She willed herself to fall back asleep, his scent surrounding her. His pillow, his shirt, his ring; but she was missing him.

++++++++

Two hundred and eighty-seven days after

Red trickled down her finger. It took her a moment to move the fabric away from the dripping blood source but managed to before it stained. It had been years since she had pricked her finger with a needle, but her subconscious must have needed to feel something; even if it was pain.

She looked around at her juvenile pink room. She had moved back into her parents six months after Damian’s death. Three months into her stay and she still had most of her belongings in boxes. The only decorations in the room were scattered commissions and a wooden blanket.

Looking down at the puddle of blood that was growing on her white desk she wonders if Damian bled before the fire cauterised his wounds. She had researched that burning to death was one of the most painful ways to die, it takes hours, each nerve ending burning. The burn victim usually passes out after a few minutes but she could imagine Damian desperately trying to put himself out, only to find more fire encompassing him.

His cape was bloody so she hopes he bled rather than burned. Or maybe he was crushed by the falling roof and killed instantly. She hoped he didn’t suffer for long.

Similar intrusive thoughts plagued her mind constantly but she kept her focus on her art to push through the days. Gazing down at the wound she found Tikki had held her and Wayzz had wiped the puddle with tissues.

Today she’ll live for them. Tomorrow she might live to try her father’s new recipe of cinnamon macarons. Last Tuesday she lived to hear Luka’s new song. Next month she might live just to pat the stray kitten that lives in the alley behind the Chinese restaurant two streets over.

++++++++++

Five hundred and twenty days after

She froze at the sight before her. Thinking it was another hallucination or she was having another nightmare. “You thought,” The glass in her hand cracked under her grip. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening. She hasn’t disassociated this much since the day he ‘died’.” That by faking your death, you could find out who you could rely on?”

“TT, yes. Now that I know everything can go back to the way it was.” She swigged her glass again, wishing it were whiskey instead of water. When they had met, Jon and his family had warned her that he was severely emotional constipated from his upbringing but this was in the psychopathic area of emotionless.

“No.”

“What?” His shock almost seems real. His eyes had widened and his body language was unsteady.

“No, we aren’t done talking about this! How ignorant do you have to be to think this won’t affect our relationship? Won’t affect me?”

“It wasn’t real. I’m here.” He stepped forward, arms rising to hug her. He never was one for physical contact. She pulled back, grabbing a steak knife and placing it between them. He told her he had set the place aflame. He found the lead for the trafficking ring. He planned it all. And now he was back, almost a year and a half later.

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt! I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life! How selfish, how, how stupid do you have to be to not consider what it does to someone who cared about you?!”

“Cared?”

“Do I need to spell it out? We’re done. I don’t want to see you ever again,” She seethed. “You think everything can go back to how it was before? Well, it can’t. I spent months of my life mourning over a guy who wasn’t even dead. Who didn’t even care about me enough not to toy with my emotions. My life isn’t a game Damian!”

“I only did this because I thought—”

“I don’t care. Get out. Out of my house. Out of my life. Just get out.”

“I didn’t intend to hurt you, I just wanted to know.” Hot, rage-filled tears ran down her cheeks. She jabbed the knife at him, stopping inches before his chest. She had backed him down the stair and to the front door. Neither of her parents were home and he was more unpredictable than ever.

“I hope you can live with what you’ve done, le miel”

#maribat #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #daminette #angst #major angst #psychopath! Damian Wayne #grieving! Marinette Dupain-Cheng #faked death

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ayamturd · 3 years

Text

promises│nihachu

summary: in any given situation or matter, promises are sacred in any relationship one should hold.

prompt: “Promise you won’t let go?” “I promise.”

warnings: fluff and major angst, death and warfare descriptions, slight dsmp spoilers

pairing: in-game romantic!nihachu

a/n: this is my entry for @quackisinnit’s 1k writing event!! huge congratulatory once again for their achievement and amazing writing (go read their stuff, it’s incredible) <3

wc: (1.6k) - m.list

“Y/n! Slow down, will you!”

You giggled to Niki’s panic and only sped through the tall grass faster. The world was a blur as you pulled her through the empty, dry field. Every branch of wheat tickled your face as they grazed your sides, yet you could care less as you both ran with little care in the world.

“But how will we get there faster then?” You glanced back at her with an assured smirk without breaking your pace. Her eyes, while wide with concern, opposed her careless smile. She chuckled loudly at your words, the beautiful sound of her laugher prompting your own as you began climbing a small hill.

“Only a little further, come on.” Your hand gripped her own gently, and she only squeezed your palm in response.

As you reached the high ground, you both paused briefly to gather your breaths before you began pulling her again. “I hope this will be worth all the anticipation. You still haven’t told me what you wanted to show me.”

The line of trees became more evident as you approached them. Entering the forest cautiously, the overhead branches shielded the bright sunlight, only speckles of light breaking through the leaves as they casted over you.

“Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it.” Niki let out a small whine of your name, jogging slightly to meet your footing.

The forest became evidently thicker with every stride, the overgrown roots of the trees tripping up Niki’s feet as she couldn’t see as clearly. She began to slow significantly in fear of the unfamiliar environment, the dark trunks, all of various sizes, almost taunting her with the possibility of something jumping out at her.

While your presence was comforting, she couldn’t hide how naturally scared she was to continue forward.

Noting her anxiety, you stopped completely to check on her, though her eyes were anywhere but your own; she was surveying the surrounding and the inability to see anything beyond a certain distance.

With a tender touch, you called her name more softly and pulled her face to your own. “We can head back if you’re uncomfortable love, but it’s just past this grove, I swear.”

Niki relished in your touch and leaned into your hold, the warmth of your palm compelling and inviting against her cheek. She nodded ever so briefly, but you did not want to push her past what she was comfortable with due to your own excitement.

“Speak with me now, love. I won’t force you if you don’t want to, it’s nothing of greater importance to your feelings.”

Head still bowed down, Niki opened her eyes while lifting your still clasped hands to her lips. She kissed your knuckles endearingly before raising her head more confidently, your concern for her well being driving her emotionally.

“I’ll be alright, darling, thank you.” You leaned closer to exchange a kiss, a light feathery peck to her plush lips, and rested your forehead against her’s.

Eyes closed, you merely whispered into her skin, “are you certain? You know I could never fault you if so.”

Niki pulled away, causing your eyes to open at the lack of contact, and gave you a beautiful grin as reassurance. “I am, y/n, I promise.”

While you smiled brightly, she paused before turning away, almost embarrassed to ask her next question. “Just… just promise you won’t let go?”

Your airy chuckle made her head snap up to you, afraid of the connotations it held; however, she instead was met with your brilliant, crinkled eyes. They were intense, full of love and adoration that could make her blush widely from the simple gaze, and spoke more words than you could ever relay.

Moving your hand to the back of her neck, you slowly bent down to kiss her again. It was more intense than before, the passion you displayed shared as Niki grabbed the wrist you held with while her other hand cupped your cheek securely.

Eventually, you needed air and forced your lips off her hesitantly. Heavy breaths pervaded the forest landscape, and you both panted from the impenetrable emotions you carried. You held a lopsided grin from the kiss, the tired pull of your lips matching her own.

“I promise, darling. I’ll always have you.”

“Y/n!”

The sky was dark, fire raging from below and engulfing the space completely. Destruction rained down in the aftermath of the battle, ash and debris scattered everywhere. The smoke was blinding, the stinging film it produced bringing tears to the eyes of all while tainting the air, making it hard to breath or move within the encapsulated scenery.

It was ringing. The silence was almost deafening after the deathly explosions and sounds that imploded moments before. One could barely hear themself think from the loud buzz or harsh stillness, the contrast more painful to the noise when originally casted in face of what was left to scrape and reforge.

“Y/n, hold on!”

Those injured or lost were left casted amongst the destruction of the once beautiful, vast land. Nothing could be said to the devastation that laid waste around them, yet the heartache most suffered was excruciating to the failure of a promise their home once carried.

While some had fled or currently carried themselves strong against the opposing, ‘god-like’ force that demanded for blood, two loves were still fighting for the purpose of staying together.

“Y/n! I have you, I have you, ju一 just hang on!”

Niki’s face was stained with dirt and grime, yet it did nothing to hide the pain she held in her eyes. She was crying, the smoke in her eyes, while harsh and searing, incomparable to the agony she felt while holding you.

“Niki, I’m so scared.”

You were hanging over a massive crater, your feet danglingly helplessly in the open air as the wind pulled at your weight. Niki gripped your arm with her entire being, the wounds she had meaning nothing to the turmoil of emotions that raged at the sight of seeing you scared beyond admission.

Her expression was determined, despite the tear stains that marked her face so vastly to the filth that stained her cheeks. She grunted, loosing her footing momentarily before pulling you slightly up again. In spite of all her efforts, she was too weak and exhausted from the fighting beforehand, body unable to carry the same passion she emulated in thought.

“Niki.” Her eyes were tight from her current endeavor, and she shook her head at your voice.

“It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay, we’re going to be okay.” Her hands were shaking from your weight, yet she refused to break her grip.

“Niki, please look at me.” Blinking roughly to rid the salty tears, Niki let out a sob from meeting your own tears as well. You were in immense pain, and the fear that overtook was numbing to the point that you couldn’t put up a front any longer.

“I love you, Niki. I love you so much.” With a shake of her head, more tears ran down her face from the revelation. She pulled harder on your arm.

“Don’t do that, don’t say it like that.” You tried to smile and bring her comfort from the situation, but in truth you were too drained; the smile you tried for was only an empty shell to the joy it once held.

“Niki, it’s alright, its o一”

Suddenly, more explosions shattered the still landscape once more. The war was not over and the crack of the already broken terrain collapse further beneath itself.

Dust clouded your vision and the panic was overwhelming, causing you to speak without thought relative to the reality you both faced.

“Niki, don’t let go, please, promise you won’t let go!” Your words were rushed and incomprehensible. Eyes wild in terror and dread, the cries that escaped you were strained and smothered over the erupting ground around you.

Niki yelled as loud as she could against the explosions trapping you both, anguished by the matter of fact. “Yes! Yes, Y/n! I have you, I pro一“

Before the vow in vain could be voiced, a new rain of explosions were set barely a few feet behind Niki, and the earth shook violently from impact. She yelped from the unexpected attack and lost her concentration and stability, thrown back, hard, into a sunken ditch.

Explosion after explosion followed, and she was forced to hold her head in instinct until the silence rang out once more. With a gasp, she struggled to her feet and pathetically climbed her way over the small hill, the littered waste and scrap metal tripping her in her moment of desperation.

She fell against the edge of the hollow shaft, a look of shock in disbelief before the horror sunk in. “No…”

“No, no, no no no…” She began to mumble to herself until her words became louder. Sinking to her knees at the realization, she released a broken and cracked cry. While sound was muffled to the damage within her ears and her sight was obscured by her teary eyes, the pain and heartbreak she felt was everything and the only thing she recognized then and there.

She cried and she cried, and no matter how much it hurt, she could never stop from the pain that would consume her without her new found sorrow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Slowly, she laid her head against the ground and clenched her eyes shut, gripping her fists close into herself for she no longer had someone to hold her safe.

“I’m so sorry.”

#nihachu x reader #nihachu x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you

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a-simple-imagine · 3 years

Text

A little bit of Devil In Her Angel Eyes

Synopsis: Your entire life changed when you met Sharon Carter in Mandripoor but one bad deal and everything comes crashing down.

Pairing: Sharon Carter x reader

Words: 3.2k

A/N - This is my first story after like a five month slump so please go easy on me. I hope its okay!! I also just reached 1.7k so thanks for that.

Warnings - swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, mentions of illegal activities.

You never lacked interest or empathy, but you'd always felt bored throughout your life. There was little excitement amongst the mundane everyday tasks. You didn't have some grand ambition to work towards; no dream job and no innate desire to settle down and have a family. You were navigating life with no direction. Never feeling like you belonged anywhere. You didn't necessarily see this as a problem but there were moments, late at night, that had you wishing for something more out of life. You just weren't quite sure what that was... until you met her.

A chance encounter in the vibrant neon lights of a dingy bar located in lowtown; a crime-ridden, impoverished district located in Mandripoor. It is the ultimate abyss of vice and degradation, where nothing was sacred and no act profane. A beautiful young woman, who so strongly contrasted her surrounding, sat at the bar sipping on a martini glass. Such a rare sight down here, it was like coming across a mythical creature. Unexpected, strange but oh so magical. One night with the woman was enough to set your senses ablaze. One night turned to two... then three... and so forth. She was the first person to ever made you feel alive; she made you feel like was worth living. It was a rollercoaster of a relationship and you never wanted to get off. And they looked to you with a look of pure admiration. She fed you sugar-coated words and tender smiles that had you on your hands and knees. You would do anything to experience the warmth of her smile or the vibrancy of her melodic laugh. And god was she the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. An angel cast in the ethereal glow of the moon. Utterly smitten and unafraid to show it. She was softener than appearance may appear. Not always the best at expressing her feelings, you liked to think that it was evident in the little things she did. Like the cup of chamomile tea, she always offered you before bed. Or the way she always had to be touching you in some way before she could fall asleep beside you. It was clear in her overprotective nature. The way she was willing to break someone's arm just for looking at you funny. She was willing to go to war for you. The relationship worked because you were both getting high on affection; drowning in each other. However, there was a much darker side to one Miss Sharon Carter. A lot of late nights you were left wondering if she would return. She threw extravagant parties that seem innocent enough until she's sneaking off behind closed doors with shady characters. Was there ever a moment she wasn't looking over her shoulder? Rollercoasters go up and up only to fall from grace at high-velocity speeds. A smarter person may have turned and run but you never claimed to ever do what was best for yourself. You were in much too deep. Sharon Carter was a former hero turned double agent who is now one of the underworld leaders of the lawless island nation of Madripoor. Her main area of interest was selling superpowers to the highest bidder; seems there is quite the market for black market super-soldier serum. Sharon also dabbled in acquiring exquisite art pieces through less than honourable measures in order to sell. She wasn't above petty crimes and illegal substances. Quite the reputation did the woman you had found yourself utterly infatuated with. It actually made a lot of sense. And if you were being honest with yourself, you valued your relationship over any morals you may have possessed. In fact, you were actually impressed if not a little intimidated by her. The option to leave was always right there but instead, you found yourself helping her out wherever she saw fit. Why? Because there was no one you cared for more in this world than Sharon Carter.

Bright red lights had been flashing in warning since the beginning of the deal. You had been through a lot together and had watched as Sharon dealt with all kinds of messed up scenarios. You even had helped her commit atrocities but her success had begun to cloud her judgement. Blind to the inevitable. Every time you attempted to voice your concern, she brushed you aside with sweet whispers of reassurance followed by a quick peck on the cheek. Sharon could be so stubborn it was infuriating; she lived with the idea that she always knew best. That she was basically untouchable. A god. It was an attractive trait that had you weak in the knees but it also led to stupid decisions. Everything will be okay. All concern pushed to the side, you chose to believe her.

As the clock struck one, you waited patiently for your girlfriend to return. A pit deep in your stomach that kept you from even considering going to bed before she arrived home. A cold cup of tea sat on the kitchen table as you numbed your mind with the bright screen of an iPhone. The click of the front door made your ears perk up, a smile settling on your lips. Thank god she was finally home, you weren't sure you could handle it much longer. Calling out for her, you receive no response but footsteps echo through the house. Not just one though. Did she have company over? It wouldn't be the first time she turned up late with some associates on her tail. Normally you wouldn't mind but you would have at least appreciated the heads up.

"What-" Words come to an abrupt end as a gloved hand slaps over your mouth. Chair crashes to the floor, phone slams against the table as you're dragged out of your seat. Struggling against a tight grip, they drag you across the room where you notice two shadows lurking on the sidelines waiting to pounce. A punch to the stomach so beautifully engraved with your girlfriend's name has you pushing against the arms that thankfully let go; flinging you to the ground. A black toed boot slams into your stomach followed by a barrage of varying blows. As your vision begins to fade, you're reminded of the last question regarding her predicament. It had been over a very early breakfast staged before a rising sun.

"You're up early." Your girlfriend hums in your ear as arms snake around your shoulders; sleep evident in her voice.

"Couldn't sleep," A purple mug brought to your lips, you take a small sip. "I was thinking-

"How many times do we have to go over this?" Sharon interrupts. "Everything is going to be just fine- I have it handled."

You had heard that many times but it was less convincing every time it left her lips. It left a bad taste behind. As strong as she may have convinced everyone she was, this was turning into the story of Icarus and she was getting far too close to the sun.

"Do you?" Your question is quiet, unsure of how she'll take it. "because this is getting to be a little too much."

"You trust me right?" It always came down to trust. It was the end to this conversation almost every time; basically her personal way of getting you to shut up. You didn't dare express that you didn't have complete and utter faith in her.

"I do." You nod a little.

"Then trust me when I say it's all gonna work out," Voice but a whisper that tickled your ear before she plants a kiss against your shoulder. "I'm gonna make a fresh pot of coffee."

Perhaps it was naïve to think this would never happen but it had simply never occurred to you that they would target you. But of course, they would, you were a part of her life. Sharon was the big bad and who better to target than you. Someone not trained by SHIELD or the CIA. It was an easier message to send. When you finally stir awake, you find yourself staring into familiar dark brown eyes; their flicks of gold a comforting sign. You had never felt pain quite like this before in your entire life. Somehow it felt like your entire body was actively on fire while also being completely numb. You couldn't feel anything other than the pain coursing through your veins at this moment. But at least you were alive. And Sharon was okay.

"Thank god," She spoke softly.

"...h...ey." The words burn your throat as you stumble through such a simple word. Coughing a few times to try and help but it just aggravated your chest. "You're... okay."

"So are you," Sharon leans forward, her lips brushing against your forehead. "Do- Do you think you can walk?" There was urgency behind her tone and the blonde didn't even wait for an answer before she was trying to usher you to your feet. A loud groan slips through clenched teeth. It was a symphony of agony but the feeling was sharpest deep in your chest. Nausea sets in your stomach. a rich throbbing in your head made worse as you shook your head. Sharon took the hint and stopped. "...We can't stay here." You knew that. It wasn't safe here anymore. Everything just felt like too much though. Your body was in torment. You felt like dinner was about to make a reappearance at any moment. And your chest felt worse with every breathe you took. After a moment, the other tries again. Supporting you as she pulls you to your feet; the majority of the work was on her part. With an arm around her shoulders, the two of you moved very slowly towards a car.

"Where... are we... going?" You understood the need to leave but where would you even go? A strong chill rode the late night wind. It was nice out. peaceful. Slumped against the passenger seat, Sharon reached over to click in the seatbelt before shutting the door and getting in the other side. It was proving difficult to stay focused on anything. Your head felt heavy on your shoulders and a sort of cloudiness settled over you. A big sigh on her end. With a tight grip on the steering wheel, Sharon just stared ahead. Was she okay? Watching her for a moment, you lay your hand atop her thigh which seemingly brought her back to reality. Turning to you, she flashes a smile then starts the car. It sputters but comes to life. Nothing was shared as you move along quiet roads. It's always a little weird to see the roads so empty but that quickly changes as you cross over into lowtown. You kind of fade in and out but never entirely. It's rather like overwhelming drowsiness. The car comes to a stop outside an unfamiliar run-down building. A strange choice all things considered. However, it's not so bad once you step inside. The room floods with light revealing a relatively small space covered in an untouched layer of dust. An ugly brown coach sat next to a small old TV. A little dining table sat in the corner. Limping over the threshold, she lowers you to the cold laminated ground. With a little whine of help, you try to reach for her as she begins to walk away but it would take more strength than you have. A quiet exhale as your eyes flutter closed. "Try and stay awake," Her voice drags you back to reality in time to watch her disappear into another room. "Just for a little while." Left alone it takes everything in you not to fall back against the floor. On returning, Sharon takes up space right behind you. You assume she is checking you over as her hand graces the back of your head. Humming ever so softly to herself before slipping over your shoulders and pulling you flush against her. A low groan slips painfully from your throat. Finding a sense of comfort from being in her arms. Despite everything that happened, she still made you feel... unbelievable safe. The two of you just sit there together for a moment, feeling her chest rise and fall. It's hard to miss the blood now smudged across the floor. Things were really bad. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay? A quick shower and then you can go to bed."

You would have preferred to just go to bed but still, you nod against her. You were much too out of it to be making any sort of decisions right now. A disapproving hum as she releases you from her grip. You weren't quite ready for the moment to end. Once again, Sharon helps you to your feet but it's easier this time now that you know exactly what to expect. It still hurt desperately, it was just no longer a surprise when it happened. Stumbling towards the shoebox of a bathroom, the blonde woman turns the nob and water erupts from the showerhead on the wall. Every few seconds she would ask if you're still okay as she very carefully removes your clothes. Brown eyes drifting over every inch of your body and back up; her brow furrowing. Meeting your eyes, she reaches over to place her fingertips against your torso. Applying a little pressure, you grunt loudly stepping away. "Did that hurt?"

"Mhmm,"

Her head tilts a little. "It looks like you have a broken rib but can't know for sure."

Standing before her, you notice a large slash across her left cheek; dried blood leading from the wound. She also had a busted lip and a gash on her eyebrow. Some kind of altercation had clearly taken place. Sharon removed her clothes and was quick to step under the heavy flow of water. Holding out her hand for you to take, she leads you under the water. The heat feels surprisingly nice against your skin. Your eyes meet and then your lips connect in a kiss. The faint taste of copper lingers on her lips but it's washed away with the blood, sweat, and tears of the day. It's forceful and passionate; dripping with emotions. She may have been the reason this happened but you were still grateful she was here right now. "This shouldn't have happened," Sharon whispers softly against your lips. "I... I should have been there." The woman pulls you closer like she had completely forgotten that you were attacked by three people earlier that day. Her skin is colder than expected strongly contrasting the steaming water.

"You didn't know." You mumble into her shoulder. Sharon doesn't answer. Merely lifts your head so you were facing each other and places a sympathetic hand upon your cheek. Savouring the tenderness of the moment is enough to bring your emotions bubbling to the surface. As much as the two of you lived the high life, it took its own toll. This life was hard. And despite never wanting it before, you sometimes wished you lived a much more mundane life but with Sharon beside you. Your brows furrow as your lip trembles. You place your hand over hers and a few tears start to fall. "...I'm scared." There were few moments you found yourself admitting to such a thing but you'd never been attacked before. Not like this. Not because of someone else.

"I know." She replies after a moment. "I am too. I'm really fucking sorry." Leaning in again, Sharon surprises you with another kiss. It's sloppier this time. Rougher. Like she's trying to prove how sorry she is. It becomes a peppering of kisses placed carelessly across your face. You smile a little, a soft little laugh that causes you to cough. "You know I love you right?" You nod a little against her and she backs up a little. Both hands against your cheeks, she meets your gaze. "I love you so much and I am going to fix this. I will protect you."

Oh how you would like to believe those words to be true but it was a promise she could not make. It was a promise she had made many times before and look what happened today? Sharon was in the wrong business to guarantee safety. But still, you wrap your arms around her, enveloping her in a cautious hug. Letting your head fall against her shoulder. You could not possibly be more in love with this woman if you tried. You knew she would do everything in her power to keep you safe. A few minutes pass as you simply let the waterfall over you and then you actually wash up and get out. Cast in the warm glow of the bedside lamp, you're sat in the middle of a double bed with Sharon sat directly across from you. This time you allow the woman to tend to your injuries properly, dapping the back of your head with a damp cloth. "Do you think we'll be okay?"

"I do." Sharon responds sharply. "don't you?"

She drops the cloth that was now stained with spots of red to the bed. You raise your shoulders in a little shrug. Sharon was a very capable woman but it was hard not to be a little worried about the whole thing. "I don't know... I don't... exactly feel great."

"You just need to rest."

"yeah maybe," A solemn sigh slips into the air. You sit in silence as Sharon finishes up contemplating what was to come. Had this just been an attempt to scare you? Would this happen again in the future? How was Sharon even going to fix this? When she goes to close the first aid box, you stop her. Taking the lead, it was your turn to look after her and tend to her wounds. You take some cotton wool and soak it in rubbing alcohol before gently dabbing at her wounds. She doesn't quite flinch but her body tenses upon first contact suggesting it stung just a little. "I'm really sorry this happened,"

"It's fine, you should see the other guy. Besides, you look worse than I do," An attempt at humour but it doesn't land dampening your girlfriend's spirit just a little.

"I'm sorry I made you worry." Dropping the wool, you trade it for some closure strips. "I'm sorry I'm so... useless. I was caught off guard."

"You're not useless," Sharon assures you as you place one strip after the other across the injury to her cheek. "You don't have anything to apologise for. This is my fault."

You want to argue but it's too much for right now wanting nothing more than to climb under the sheets and sleep for the next week at least. "Let's just go to bed." Collecting all the items scattered across the duvet, Sharon dispossesses of the blood-soaked clothe and cotton wool before placing the bright green box on the dresser. Lingering there for a moment, you can tell something off. "You'll stay with me, right?" Turning on her heel, Sharon slides under the covers beside you. You shared a bed often but she was never one to cuddle. Tonight though, she was closer than normal. Her hand rests gently on your waist and regardless of the pain, it doesn't take long for you to drift off to sleep.

#sharon carter x reader #sharon carter #the falcon and the winter soldier #Emily VanCamp

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starilicious · 3 years

Text

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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morkleemelon · 3 years

Text

off the ice || chapter 4: don’t look back

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x fem. college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, sports au, college au

word count: 6.5k

warnings: blood, mention of surgery, description of injuries, swearing, financial struggle

author’s note: huge thanks again to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk for being a great help to making this story better! the slow burn fire is finally burning in this chapter and I’m so excited :) if you haven’t been listening already, I highly recommend the playlist for this chapter! enjoy~

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’?,” you sobbed, gripping the side of her hospital bed. You wanted to give your best friend a hug, but you didn’t want to risk hurting her more. Yuna’s right leg was pinned into an apparatus, the intricate metal carefully holding together the broken bones, her usual perfect skin marred by scratches of red and patches of blue.

“I mean what I said”. Even with a sore voice and her current situation, Yuna managed to speak with dignity.

“And Ms. Kim is right,” the doctor agreed, jotting down a prescription on her clipboard, “the surgeries went well and she is in stable condition. The good news is that with proper rest and physical therapy, she will be able to walk again. Now, it’s my duty to be honest with you. You said you’re a figure skater?”.

“Yes”. Yuna uncurled her fingers, inviting you to hold her hand. You accepted it, bracing both of you for the bad news. Ten sat at the other side of the bed pressing her other hand to his lips.

“While we cannot rule out the possibility, the likelihood of you being able to skate again is very low. Especially for the next few years”.

Yuna’s tough façade started to crumble at the shocking reality and her lips trembled as she choked back tears. You pressed your forehead to her hand as you hid your own tears from her.

“God damn it!”. Ten yelled, getting up and kicking away the stool he was sitting on. The loud bang was followed by the sound of quiet weeping. “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. I shouldn’t have told you to go to the car first. None of this should’ve happened, god damn it”. The older boy cried into his palms as he placed the blame on himself.

“Please settle down and refrain from disturbing the patient,” the doctor warned, “but we would like to talk to you about the details of the accident, Ms. Kim, now that you’re awake and stable”.

Yuna nodded, a few tears escaping and rolling down her scraped-up cheeks.

“Your right leg is broken in three places upon impact with the vehicle: two in the femur and one major area in the tibia. You then sustained minor external injury as you fell to the pavement, scraping your arms and face. We will run additional tests later on to determine if you also have a concussion. If you can remember any details of how this accident happened, please describe them to me and we can notify the police to help find the suspect”, the doctor continued.

“I,” Yuna cleared her throat, “I was at a party last night and I had a bit to drink. We stayed pretty late and Ten is close with the host, so we just decided to sleep over. Then this morning, I woke up early and I wanted to go on a drive to clear my head. Ten had to get something so I left the house first. I- I checked both ways before I crossed the street to his car, but before I knew it… it came out of nowhere and I was on the ground. I don’t… I can’t remember anything about it. The next thing I remember was being in the ambulance with Ten”.

“I heard the whole thing happen,” Ten added softly, “I was inside the house at the time and I heard the screeching tires and Yuna screamed. By the time I ran outside, the car was gone and Yuna was bleeding on the ground”. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist. “All I could do was call an ambulance. I- I didn’t see the car or the bastard driving it. All I could do was sit with her in the street while we waited. She wasn’t waking up and all I could do was sit with her. I couldn’t even move her because I was afraid it would make it worse and she was bleeding everywhere. All I could do was sit there”.

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Ten break down. The normally bright and optimistic man now had his face in his hands, hiccupping uncontrollably at the thought of how close he came to losing the love of his life.

“Hey,” Yuna groaned, struggling to keep her own voice steady, “baby, I’m okay. When we met, you were hurt and struggling, but you got through it because we were together. We’re still together and we can get through this too”. She touched her fingers through his hair gently.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Kim, and both of your friends. The police are currently asking for witnesses for your hit-and-run case and will update you with any findings. These are your prescriptions”, the doctor slid the piece of paper onto the counter, “the nurse will come find you later to talk about your treatment. For now, I’ll leave you all alone”.

The room fell silent, only interrupted by the occasional sniffle as the doctor shut the door behind her.

“Hey y/n?”. Yuna turned her head gingerly to you.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I can’t do the competition with you now. I promised I would but…”

“Don’t even… how could you worry about that right now?”, you sobbed, “don’t you worry about it, Yuna, the competition doesn’t matter at all. I’m just glad you’re okay right now. You should focus on getting better, not worry about me of all things”.

“Y/n is right,” Ten agreed, “you were there for me when I got hurt. And when I thought there was no way out, you held my hand and pulled me up from the darkness. Doctor says you have a good chance of walking, so let’s get you there first. Then we’ll work on beating the odds and getting you back on the ice again”.

“You guys…” Yuna smiled slightly, careful not to strain her bruised jaw.

“I’ll come visit you as much as I can,” you promised, “I can bring my sleeping bag, clothes, and a jar of peanut butter. We can just be roommates here instead. There’s free AC and disney band aids too, it’ll be great”. Your attempt to lighten the mood was well received as the couple chuckles together.

“By the way, I called your parents while you were in surgery and they’re on their way over now. They should actually be here soon,” Ten noted.

“I’ll leave you guys then,” you offered. There was a two visitor limit and you didn’t want to intrude on Ten and Yuna’s chance to have some private time before her parents bombarded her with concern. Not to mention Mark has been sitting in the waiting room for a few hours now and you wanted to be respectful of his time too.

Offering your last words of support to Yuna, you shut the door quietly behind you. Dabbing at your watery eyes with the edge of your sleeve, you attempt to fix your run-off makeup using your phone camera. Everything felt kind of numb. The events of the last 24 hours were surreal and staying up the whole night with Mark certainly did not help as the tiredness was catching up to you. Concern, upset, worry, and frustration formed a thick cloud in your thoughts. Your brain was like a jammed printer and the thoughts were not processing. You were in shock to say the least.

You shuffle your way down the hall to the waiting area and look for Mark’s familiar blonde hair. You spot him fast asleep in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he leans his head back against the wall. His mouth is slightly agape, forming a soft ‘o’ as he breathed steadily in and out. Seeing him sleep so peacefully made you relax a little.

At least there was something good about today.

“Hey,” you whisper, shaking him gently. His eyes blink open slowly, wincing at the bright hospital lights.

“Hey,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes as he sits up straight. “How’s Yuna? Did you get to see her?”.

“She’s…,” you pause, “she’s okay. She said she was okay when I saw her just now and the doctor said she’s stable but…,” your voice trails off.

“But what?,” Mark asked gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. You look around to make sure there was nobody around who could overhear. A few people sat around the waiting room a ways away, texting on their phones or flipping through the free health magazines. The receptionist’s monotonous voice droned on as she answered a phone call.

“The doctor says that Yuna might not be able to skate again,” you murmured. Even though the doctor made it clear before, saying the words out loud felt extremely surreal. You imagined if it were you lying on the hospital bed hearing this news. To not be able to skate again… it was too awful to comprehend. Tears roll down your cheeks before you could help it, dangling from the point of your chin before falling onto your green volunteer shirt.

Mark thought about what he could say in reply to the devastating news, but decided it was best to not say anything at all. Pulling you in for a hug, you cry silently into the crook of his neck. You wrap your arms around his torso and hold on for dear life.

The next few weeks pass by rather uneventfully after the incident, at least comparatively. Police were still on the case of Yuna’s hit-and-run perpetrator, but they struggled to find witnesses when the crime occurred so early in the morning. Even the local CCTV didn’t cover the area where it happened and the driver was still ultimately at large.

The Lee’s and your other friends texted in the group chat plenty and you grew much more comfortable with having them around. Mark drives you to the hospital to visit Yuna a couple times a week and the three of you would eat lunch together in her room for a small sense of normalcy. It was a tough transition for you nonetheless- your best friend and roommate who you were used to seeing every day now was now seemingly so far away and your time together was reduced to a few hours a week. However, the initial shock of the situation eventually faded and the two of you came to terms with how things were. Yuna and you agreed to not cry about it anymore until she got started on physical therapy and gave recovery her best shot. Thankfully, Ten was there with her everyday and night, so it was bearable for her.

Mark’s always been sweet about your comfort zone, too, never pushing you to talk about your feelings yet at the same time, always there for you when you needed him. Neither one of you brought up the almost-kisses, the first reason being you weren’t ready to remind yourself of the horrible things that happened afterwards and the second being that Mark wanted to respect that you needed time to process it.

So the days tick by and seeing Mark became part of your daily routine. It was something you looked forward to when you got ready in the morning and although you didn’t really know it, it was something you needed to make your day feel complete. His good heart shined more and more to you everyday as you chose to continue to accompany him to Sunday volunteering. You got to witness how Mark’s eyes glowed whenever he talked to the people he served. He treated everyone there as if they were his own family and even though many of the people he helps are much older, he continues every conversation with sincerity and maturity.

In addition to walking you to class everyday, Mark now has a special seat next to you in the front row of your economics lecture, leaving Jeno and Ten snickering behind you as they watch your close interactions. You ate lunch at the willow tree by the basketball court on the days you weren’t visiting Yuna. After a while, you grew used to the dirty looks from the girls across the court, even glaring back when you met Hillary’s fiery stare. Nonetheless, you developed a comfortable social routine and everything was going quite well, except for one abundant issue weighing heavily on your shoulders.

The middle of October rolls by and you grind your way through your evening shift at Frankie’s. Thankfully, it was a Tuesday, so late-night stragglers weren’t an issue. You finish scrubbing down the counters in the kitchen and wipe your hands on your waitress apron. Unfortunately, it was your turn to close so you were the only one left working tonight. Your back ached from the hours of waiting tables and your cheeks hurt from the wide smile you offered all of your customers, rude or not. Sighing, you count your tips for the day.

A bell chimes from the door.

“Sorry we’re closed-,” you stop your words as you see the figure illuminated by the low diner lights.

“Is it too late for me to talk with the pretty waitress?” Mark grins, unzipping and taking off his wind breaker. You roll your eyes but your smile tells him you aren’t actually annoyed.

“The pretty waitress is covered in barbeque sauce and all purpose cleaner. Proceed?”

“Oh no, not barbeque sauce! Cancel request! Cancel Request!”

You laugh, throwing a nickel at his dramatic show.

“Wait, give that back to me. I need every tip I can get,” you say, holding out your hand to receive the coin. Mark obediently picks it up, handing it to you as he takes a seat at the bar. You thank him, flipping through the crinkled, greasy bills from the tip jar. The creeping disappointment must have shown on your face because Mark broke the silence.

“Not a good night?” His words were careful. He understood you were under a lot of stress recently, but he didn’t have the heart to pry further and make you tell him why, which you appreciated. Mark assumed it was about Yuna or grades, but you never confided the real reason of how much your financial situation really scared you.

“Not a good…” you debate telling him everything. On one hand, you didn’t want to come off as needy or desperate. You were infamously bad at sharing your burdens with others. On the other, you wanted to tell Mark because you know he would listen and it would make you feel better. “Not a good anything,” you finally admit, setting the scraggly bills down on the clean counter between you.

Only $26.84 for the whole night.

Mark’s soft brows were creased in concern as he waited for you to elaborate. He rested his chin on his knuckle, watching you pensate your feelings carefully. You meet his soft gaze, his eyes telling you that it’s okay. You let your shoulders relax, not even realizing the tension they were carrying.

“I…,” you start, letting out a small sigh as you walk your way around the counter to sit on the stool next to him. He spun his stool so he was sitting facing you. You pick at the mysterious stain on your apron.

How do I even tell him about this? Hey Mark, I’m broke! I might drop out because I don’t have money for school, thus ruining everything my parents and I have worked for.

“I guess I’m just worried,” you resolve after a minute, “I’m worried because, well, because of money”. You wince at hearing the words out loud but continue before you could take it back, “my parents are working really hard to get the money for my tuition, but things aren’t looking good for next semester”. You continue to tell him about how you’ve been picking up extra shifts to try to save up, but skating fees and money for basic necessities eats whatever you earn right up. The thought of quitting skating to save money came to your mind, but you never followed through because that was as much of a necessity as anything. A miracle occurred with the skating competition, only for some sick bastard to hurt Yuna. You asked around but everyone already had a partner or were too busy to participate in the competition. So now you could either go rob a bank or take a gap year and hope you’ll be able to return. Mark listened to your qualms quietly until you finished.

“The competition, did you ask people who aren’t on your team?,” Mark inquired, resting a reassuring hand on yours.

“Yeah, I even asked the girls on JV, but nobody wants to do it since they think they can’t win,” you confirm with a sad nod.

“That’s so dumb,” Mark stated, “you’re like, the best skater ever. Even the worst girl on JV could win if they did it with you”.

You look at him in surprise. His thumb ran comfortingly across your knuckles, sending tingles down your arm. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you look back down at your joined hands. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what you guys were: officially, you were just friends at the moment, but anyone could see that there was something there. As of late, too much has been on your mind for you to possibly sit down and ponder it. Neither one of you has confessed feelings of any sort, but the night at the lake couldn’t just be ignored. And do normal friends hold hands like this?

“Right, tell that to them. Nobody wanted to be my partner, so yeah, I’m kind of in a pickle with tuition right now”

“Well can anyone be your partner?,” Mark asked.

“What do you mean? Like, just ask random strangers to skate with me?”

“No I mean like… I could do it”. His expression was serious, alluding that he meant every word of his ridiculous proposition.

“You could-” you stop to consider, “I mean I guess? I don’t think Coach Tanya said anything about the participants needing to be on the team… or be a girl. But there’s a big problem we’re not considering.”

“What problem?”

“You don’t know how to figure skate”. You free your hand from his and punch him lightly in the arm.

“But I play hockey and I’ve skated all my life,” Mark bargained, pointing to himself smugly and shrugging, “how hard can it be?”

“How hard-” you wheeze. You laugh out loud as the serious boy looked on indignantly. “Figure skating is miles different from what you guys do. Y’all go, what, forwards and backwards? Can you do a jump?”.

“I can too do a jump,” Mark defended.

“Okay, what about a single axel jump?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you giggle, grabbing the counter and spinning your stool around. Mark watches you endearingly.

“Y/n” the sound of your name stops your childish break and you look at him expectantly. “What if I practiced every day. I can learn your uh- single axis”

“Axel,” you correct.

“Axel. I can learn this axel jump and I can practice it and whatever else you need so you can do the competition”. You couldn’t tell if he was being serious, but your heart skipped a beat nonetheless.

“Deadass?”

“Deadass,” Mark nodded.

“Why… why…”. You struggled to find the right words.

“Because I like you,” Mark interrupted, “and I want to do this for you because it would make you happy. I’d streak across campus fully nude and screaming if it made you happy”.

Did he just...confess?

“It would,” you nod seriously.

“It would? Which part? The competition or-”

“No, the streaking,” you shake your head, ignoring the steady increase of your heart rate. You press your lips into a flat line and nod to feign seriousness. Mark paused before getting up. He reached for the hem of his shirt, sighing before lifting it up over his head.

“Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, reaching for his belt buckle. You shriek, shielding your eyes from his half-nude appearance. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you let your eyes linger on his lean torso through your fingers.

Damn, maybe hockey does have some benefits.

“I was kidding! Please put your clothes back on!,” you cry. You heard him laugh as he pulled the fabric back on.

“Okay I’m decent. I’m decent,” Mark assured, taking his seat next to you again. “But seriously, I meant what I said and you don’t have to reply until you’re ready. I completely understand if you don’t know yet. Just know that I am here for you and I,” he grabbed the edge of your stool and pulled it firmly so you were facing him, “really like you. As more than friends”.

You felt surprisingly confident; the stress of life always went away when Mark was around and you forgot all about the scattered pennies and nickels on the counter. Although his confession was so sudden, you had a feeling it was coming eventually. It didn’t feel shocking, but more like… finally. That being said, you were unsure of what to say. You weren’t sure you were ready for a relationship and most of all, you weren’t sure about your feelings for him. The last thing you wanted was to say you like him back and have it end up not being true.

Like always, the understanding, patient look in Mark’s eyes told you that he would wait for you to reply when you’re ready.

“Okay”. You smile.

“Okay”. He mirrors.

“Let’s do it, the competition,” you decide.

“Really?”

“Yeah, let’s give it our best shot! After all, it’s a crowd vote and your popularity might gain us favor,” you tease, poking his chest. “What time is it?”

“It’s 9:48pm, why?,” Mark replied, checking his lock screen. You hopped off your stool and began untying your apron.

“You drove here right?”. He nods. “Then there’s somewhere I wanna go if you’re willing to drive”. You shove your tips for the night into your bag.

“You know I’m always down for you,” Mark smiled, grabbing your jacket off the rack and helping you into it. He stood in front of you and zipped you up without you asking, fixing the hood so it was proper. You watch him in silence and awe as he smooths down the wrinkles by your collar carefully and slings the strap of your bag over his shoulder without a word. It’s always these things, the little things, that leave you speechless.

The drive was pleasant. Mark put on your favorite radio channel and the two of you vibed comfortably to the acoustic music, the only interruptions were your quiet directions to the desired destination. You examined Mark’s face as he focused on the road, tipping his head back and forth to the beat with one hand on the wheel. It was dark, but the passing street lights illuminated his features in mesmerizing flashes, almost as if they were afraid to show his face for too long, the beauty would be too much to handle. His cheekbones were especially accentuated by the small smile on his lips. Looking at him made you feel… calm.

You pulled into the familiar parking lot. The blue neon lights above the building reading “Skate City” buzzed with electricity as the two of you got out of the car.

“You wanted to come here? To a kid’s roller rink?”. Mark chuckled as he shut the driver side door.

“Make fun of me now but you’ll see why” you rolled your eyes, walking through the building door which Mark held open for you.

The interior of the building was just like you remembered: the dark, ragged carpet was covered in colorful squiggles and dots resembling an abstract representation of worms and confetti. If that wasn’t bad enough, the matching wallpaper and UV lights topped off the hallucinogenic nightmare of a roller rink. Usually, it was also filled with the screams of children. Due to the lateness in the day, the rink was empty and usual disco funk was turned off. You would think it was closed if it weren’t for the man watching TV behind the counter.

“Mr. Joseph,” you call out with a wave. The man grunted, pulling his feet from off of the counter and shuffling through the mess of papers to find his glasses. He was an unassuming man in about his early forties, balding, pot-bellied, and proud. Nobody would guess that he was the man who taught you to skate all those years ago.

“Why, is that Miss y/n?,” Mr. Joseph exclaimed, rounding the counter to hug you.

“How have you been, Joe?”

“Well, you know me. I’m gettin’ by. Who’s this fella over here?”. Joe adjusted his specs and squinted at Mark.

“This,” you nudge the shy boy forward slightly, “is my friend, Mark. Mark, this is my family friend and former coach, Mr. Joseph. Also known as Joe,” you introduce.

The two men exchange a firm handshake.

“Nice meeting you, Mark. You treating her right?” Joe narrowed his eyes.

“Um so,” you cough, saving Mark from the awkward question, “Joe, we need skates for Mark”.

“Wait but I already have skates, y/n-,”

“No, you have hockey skates, Mark. You’re gonna need proper figure skates if we’re gonna do this competition right,” you explain.

“Competition, huh,” Joe gruffed, waddling into the back room and motioning for you to follow.

“Yeah, I don’t know if my parents told you, but Yuna was in an accident and now she can’t do the pair skate with me. Mark’s a hockey player but,” you glance at him with a smile, “he offered to pick up some skills and be my partner”.

“Here,” Joe smacked a pair of skates into Mark’s arms, “try these, boy”.

“Thank you, sir”. Mark bowed and went out to the bench to try them on.

Once he was out of sight, Joe leaned down to you, “you like this boy?”.

“Stop!,” you cry, covering your reddening ears with your hands.

“I’m just saying,” Joe held up his hands innocently, “I can tell he likes you by the way he looks at you. Even from meeting him just now”.

“Yeah… I just,” you stop to think about it. Well it’s true he likes you...

Do you like him?

You look to the door where you could see his shadow lacing up the new skates. You wish he would hurry back. Being without him felt like something was missing. Even if he was right around the corner, it didn’t feel good that you couldn’t see him and feel his reassuring presence. Realization began creeping in and you turn to look back at Joe’s I-told-you-so expression. He gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Make sure he’s good to you”.

Mark’s figure reappeared at the doorway, oblivious to your pounding heart and emotions which were becoming slowly more apparent. You watch endearingly as he stepped awkwardly into the room wearing the skates, stretching out his arms to maintain his balance.

“I think they fit!,” Mark beamed at you, causing the butterflies in your stomach to migrate all around.

“That’s good, boy. Take them on the house,” Joe guided him back out to take them off before he could hurt himself.

“Oh no, sir-”

“Please, they were collecting dust in that storage room. Nobody wants men’s figure skates anymore these days and I’m glad to help y/n out” Joe dismissed.

“Joe,” you stop him, wrapping your arms around Joe’s neck to give him a big hug, “thank you,” you whisper.

“Of course, kiddo” he pat your back, “you make me proud”.

After chatting for a bit longer, you bid your goodbyes to Joe as he locked up Skate City for the night. In the car, you hold your breath and turn towards Mark. Strangely, your head was in the clouds as you examined his face, a face you’ve grown so familiar with in the past few weeks, yet seemed brand new. Suddenly, he leaned in close, close enough to count his pretty eyelashes, warranting your breath to hitch in your throat. Unaware of your, Mark places the box of skates in the backseat and sits up straight again to buckle his seatbelt. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Right, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

“So, are you tired or do you wanna do some skating today?,” you finally ask.

Mark flashed you a crooked smile, starting the car, “Y/n, I’m always down for you. School rink?”.

You nod.

The whole drive back to the school was noticeably more awkward, at least to you. You tensed at every word he said and felt your heart clench when he hummed along to the soft radio tune. Saying nothing or giving short, one word replies, you didn’t trust your voice to say more. Instead, you opted to look out the window at the passing scenery for the fear of Mark noticing your flushed expression. You tug uncomfortably at your jacket collar, beginning to regret asking him to skate tonight. Ironically, and perhaps foolishly of you, you’ve received his confession yet you’re unwilling to admit the good news of mutual feelings to yourself. What should you do or say? Surely it’s not right to just say ‘I like you! I figured it out haha let’s date!” out of the blue.

Pulling into the sports center parking lot, you notice the locks on the front door.

“Oh crap, I forgot it’s a weekday. The rink is closed after 11,” you mutter, slightly relieved at the thought of heading home to sort out your feelings alone.

“Don’t worry, we can sneak in through the side door,” Mark answers nonchalantly, getting out to open the car door for you. You don’t disregard the kind gesture and instead feel the familiar pressure in your chest again.

And sneak in you did.

Mark had clearly done this a few times judging based on the way he led you confidently to the obscured side door which was propped slightly open with a rock.

You went your separate ways in the eerily empty stadium to your respective locker rooms. Splashing your face with cool water, you attempt to rein in your fiery flush.

How should I bring it up? Or do I wait? He already said he likes me, but what if he didn’t mean it?

After changing into your skates, you take a deep breath and head out to the ice.

He was already there waiting for you by the railing. Mark must have heard your footsteps approaching and he turned to give you a warm smile.

“You’re right, y/n, these skates are kinda different”. He tapped the toe pick into the padded floor.

“Yeah… right,” you mumbled, struggling to meet his bright eyes.

He’s so cute.

Pale moonlight streamed through the glass ceiling panels and illuminated your surroundings. Mark’s hair made his face glow silver and his eyes sparkled with the reflection of the moon. His face fell at your weak response, reading it as disinterest.

You open the gate and skate out onto the ice in front of him. Mark tentatively skated out to follow you, wobbling slightly at the different sensation. You reach out to grab his arms and steady him, meeting his gaze briefly before blinking away. You loosen your grip on his sleeves, the contact making your feelings go wild.

For a few moments, the two of you silently glided across the ice. For the first time ever, it seems, you weren’t sure what to say to him.

“Listen,” Mark finally spoke, struggling to a stop. He looked down at his skates thoughtfully, “If it’s about what I said earlier, if it’s about me liking you and that made you uncomfortable, I- I take it back. I feel like I didn’t give you a chance to say no if you wanted to-”

“No it’s-,” you interrupt, skating slightly ahead, “It’s not that”.

“Then why are you acting so strange?,” Mark asked, struggling to keep up.

“I just,” you circle to a stop at the middle of the rink. How do you even begin to explain how you feel? Never in your life have you felt like this about anybody. Never in your life have you felt so special and so cared for than when you were with Mark. You would have been lucky enough just being able to know him, but he even likes you. Out of all of the people he could have chosen, he chose you.

Mark careened to a halt behind you, waiting for you to finish. You take a deep breath.

Now or never.

You turn around to face him.

“What you told me in the diner, tell it to me again”. Your voice came out weaker than you had intended.

Mark’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and worry that you were upset with him. He wanted to pull you into a hug, tuck that piece of hair back behind your ear and tell you it’s okay if you didn’t love him back.

“I-,” Mark cleared his throat from his emotions, “I said that I like you, y/n. I like you as more than friends”. He looked down towards his feet but before he could blink, he was crushed in between your arms as you jumped to hug him. Your face fit perfectly into the crook of his neck and you breathed in his familiar, warm scent as he wrapped his arms delicately around your waist. The force from your impact caused both of you to drift slightly, but you kept steady. Not brave enough to look him in the face, you whisper your confession to his ear.

“I’m ready to answer you. I… I like you too. As more than friends”

Mark’s grip tightened around your waist as he lifted you slightly off the ice. Spinning around, he curled his fingers into the fabric of your sweatshirt as if he never wanted to let you go. Your heart swelled at the feeling as you held onto his sturdy shoulders. Neither of you needed to say anything more. He pulled you close so there was no space left and you listened to the gentle rhythm of his heart beating for you.

Pulling away at last, you rest your forehead against his. Your eyes fluttered closed but you could feel the tip of his nose brush gently across yours, his warm exhalation fanning across your lips.

“You don’t happen to have your phone on you, do you?” Mark mumbled deeply, savoring the moment.

You let out a small giggle, “no, do you?”.

“Nope”

And with that, you tilted your head up ever so slightly and Mark cupped your cheek to bring your lips together. You melt into his kiss and touch, allowing the way his soft lips moved against yours to express his silent affections. Exhaling through your nose, you sigh into the kiss, moving your hand to rest at the back of his head to pull him in deeper.

Finally.

Mark ran his thumb affectionately across your cheek, his lips speaking of all the times he’s wanted to do this. Your fingers lace their way through his soft hair, loving the way he reacts as you tug against the strands slightly.

A loud bang from a closing door causes you to pull apart finally. The bright beam of the security guard’s flashlight flashes across the ice as the two of you look on like deer caught in headlights.

“Hey, you two! Get out of there!,” the guard shouted, pointing a finger at your embracing form.

“Run!,” you whisper yell, pulling him quickly towards the gate. The two of you run as quickly as you can in your skates, pulling them off before you enter the hallway.

“Hey! Stop right there!,” the guard yelled, stumbling down the stadium stairs.

“Quick! In here!” Mark tugged you into the boys locker room, shutting the door before the guard could see and ushering you quickly to hide in the gap between two lockers. You squeezed in with him, panting softly as the adrenaline pumped through your body. Mark’s arms wrap around your body to pull you closer as the guard opens the door. The flashlight flicked menacingly across the dark room. You hold your breath as it comes particularly close. Finally, seconds that feel like hours pass and the security guard grunts before deciding to move on. You exhale in relief.

Mark rests his chin on top of your head and you realize how closely you’re pressed together. You giggle into his chest, loving how warm he felt.

“I can’t believe that I get to hold you,” Mark whispers. His fingers draw invisible shapes across your back.

You nuzzle your face into his tee shirt. “Well I can’t believe we’re doing this in the boy’s locker room after being chased down by security,” you mumble against the fabric. His chest sounded a low vibration as he chuckled back, moving his hand up to stroke your hair.

“You are so, so beautiful, y/n,” he moves to kiss the top of your head, “I don’t know the words to express how beautiful you are to me”.

You press deeper into his body at the words you’ve always wanted to hear. Lifting your face up from his chest, you press a small kiss to his lips, heart jumping at the still-new sensation. It was sweet, his lips ghosting over yours breathlessly as you nestle your nose gently against his in a slow eskimo kiss.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Mark whispers in between kisses, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long”.

You answer by gripping the fabric of his collar to pull him in deeper, moving your lips rhythmically against his.

“I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” you admit as you catch your breath, “I just didn’t understand it. Or some part of me wasn’t ready to admit it”.

“That makes sense” Mark rests his forehead on yours, smiling, “I would have waited a thousand years if that’s what you needed”.

Again and again, he captivated you with his words. He was so good to you and never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect. Day after day, his patience with you never faded and slowly, you let him break down your walls. His comforting smile and optimism always filled you with reassurance and peace.

So standing there, making out in the boy’s locker room, illegally, in the dead of night on a Tuesday, you became sure. You were sure that you wanted him in your life. You were sure you wanted to try to be a part of his. As you pressed your lips to his and as he ran his fingers through your hair, there was no turning back.

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cas-backwards-tie · 4 years

Text

CopyCat

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Request: prompts “don’t be afraid, trust me.” and i’ll be here, no matter what.” from the misc sentences. Can Five and the reader have a moment like Luther and Allison did in S2E10? Where the reader tries to use her powers to fight Lila but she uses them against her and she almost dies but Five helps her out like Luther did with Allison. Basically a loving and protective Five and make it fluffy af please thank you!

Words: 2,310

Warnings: Cursing, Near-Death Experiences, Fighting, Anxiety, Angst.

A/N: For @alexa135 . I really hope you enjoy this! I decided to give the reader water-based powers. OH! I forgot but this should go without saying considering the request but there will be spoilers for the season 2 finale!

“What the hell happened? What was that?” Luther asks with a groan as Five helps him up.

“She must have redirected Vanya’s energy wave,” Five thinks aloud, trying to piece the puzzle together in his mind while simultaneously remaining present in the fight.

“Yeah, I know, but how?” He voices the question they’re all bound to have once this damned fight is over. The broken fireplace shifts, bricks beginning to topple. Five springs into action.

“Luther watch out!” He yells, pushing him out of the way, tons of bricks falling on top of Five and completely burying him.

“Five!” The scream comes from the tattered house, causing your eyes to shoot open.

After Lila had sent an energy wave blasting in your direction, it sent you flying across the farm. Luckily Harlan’s ability had caused it to snow, and snow is made of water, therefore allowing you to collect snow and form it into a landing pad cushy enough to prevent major injury.

The cold wind creates an ominous whistle in the air as you struggle to push yourself out of the snowy cocoon. Once you’re on your feet, it’s a race against time. Is it? Oh, God. The thoughts in the back of your mind run rampant as your heart pounds against your chest, heart already aching at the dreadful thought: Five is dead.

Just as you arrive at the surprisingly still intact front door of the house, you throw it open only for your eyes to widen. Luther’s thrown through the wall of the house by none other than Lila, something that causes alarm. Not only was she able to create an energy wave, but she has super-strength too? Before you can react, she’s stepping through the hole and out of the house.

Allison’s voice is enough to make your heart clench as your own worry only amplifies for Five. You thought he was in here, but looking around, you don’t see him anywhere. “Five?” It comes out quietly at first as if you’re afraid of receiving no answer. “Five?” You call louder, still searching for him at the entrance.

The sound of talking then fighting outside doesn’t concern you, having faith in Five’s siblings, yet, the longer it goes on and you don’t find Five, you decide it might be best to help contain Lila before resuming your search. If he really is dead… he wouldn’t want to lose anyone else.

Stepping over the rubble and pile of bricks, you finally hear Allison use her power. Relief floods you as you know she’s powerful. “I heard a rumor-”

“-you stopped breathing,” Lila returns the rumor, somehow mirroring her power. As instantly as relief flooded you, it ebbs away, replaced instead with cold and heavy terror. Three members are missing and Diego is crying for help; that’s four down and only three standing, including you.

You don’t suspect Lila’s noticed you yet, with Luther’s groveling and the sick way Lila watches, but you know what to do. This is an advantage, one of Five’s favorites in fact: the element of surprise. With the outstretch of your hands, you concentrate all your energy on boiling the water inside her body, essentially melting her from the inside out. She slowly turns in your direction and you circle around her. Lila stuffs her hands in her pockets.

“You,” it’s an accusatory tone. A chuckle leaves Lila’s lips, and she tilts her head, a wicked smile upon her lips. “You’re little shit of a boyfriend’s dead, you know?” She jokes, no sign of pain from her despite the red glow around your hands. “He’s dead, though really, you should be thanking me, you know? That murdering prick.”

“Shut up! Don’t you dare speak about him like that,” you threaten, jaw clenching as you take a step toward her, closer toward the barn. She leads you further and further away, a game of cat and mouse perhaps, a game of chicken. You’re not scared. You’ll do whatever it takes to avenge Five.

“Oh yeah? Or what?” She laughs maniacally, her eyes widening in a way only a psychopath’s would.

That’s when you notice it. You wince. There’s a twinge of pain at your side and your attention is drawn to her fists as she pulls them out of her pockets and holds them up, they’re glowing red just like yours. “You gonna bite me? Nice try, little girl, but I think you’re the only one who’ll be absolutely on fire tonight!”

Next comes the headache, the familiar feeling of dehydration. It’s the first stage. Blood rushes through your veins, pounding as you glare up at her with a look that Five’s said on many occasions could kill. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath, but when you let it out as a loud sigh, you wobble on your feet. The previous posture you’d had slumps as you struggle to stay standing. Another telltale sign is sweat; loss of fluids. Sweat drips down your forehead, underneath your clothes, your palms struggling to stay clenched in a fist as your eyebrows furrow in her direction.

“You’re not winning this, Lila. I won’t let you get away with this!” Something bubbles inside you. It feels somewhat like gas or an upset stomach, but you know what it really is… it’s your insides boiling; melting; overheating.

“We’ll see about that,” the smug look on her face does nothing but irk you. You have absolutely no idea what Diego saw in her.

One of Luther’s cries for Allison causes you to refocus. There’s no chance in hell you’ll let Lila live through this. She’s not going to get away with killing another one of the Hargreeves siblings today! A yell tears through you as you tap into your energy, your power. Directing it toward her, the glow of your hands amplifies into a bright red. It’s working.

Lila winces and folds in half, holding her stomach. “You little- conniving- she-devil!” Whipping her head up to glare at you through her bangs, Lila grunts as her fists glow brighter. She’s using more of her power!

“Let her go! It’s me you want, isn’t it?” Five’s voice distracts you. Hope lights up in your eyes and butterflies swirl through your tummy- wait… no. That’s not it. The momentary distraction was enough for her. A spike of heat throws you off your feet and you collapse onto the ground, clutching at your stomach.

Releasing a string of groans as you writhe on the ground, you know this is the worst of it. Soon it will be over and the pain will become so much that it will numb. By then... there’s no coming back from it. That’s what happens to all your victims.

“Why won’t you just stay dead?” Lila asks rhetorically, blowing her bangs out of her face with a roll of her eyes as she relaxes from her one-on-one with you. “I can fix that for you,” she threatens. Stalking across the snow, a scream causes everyone to freeze.

“LILA!” It’s Diego. Running toward her, he stops just a few feet behind her. Though it might be stupid to take her eyes off of Five, she knows she’s ready for anything, so she takes a split-second to look at Diego. “You’ve gotta be a desperate, pathetic, wimp to go after those kids! If you do this… you’re only fooling yourself. You know who the enemy is here, and it’s not us! It’s not Five,” he warns, grabbing her attention.

The woman does a double-take, looking between the young couple and Diego. She knows Five’s not going anywhere, he’d never leave you to die alone, so she’s got some time to spare. After all, she wants to take her time killing him. Might as well save him for last. Running after Diego, the man panics and turns, fleeing into the barn.

Five couldn't care less about the snow as he throws himself onto the ground, hurriedly pulling you closer. Wait, is this the smart thing to do? He knows your abilities; he knows you’d been boiling each other alive, she’d mirrored you, Lila had been a copycat. It’s an idea, not founded on proof or fact as this situation has never happened before, but it’s the only logical solution he can think of. It has to work! The old man calls your name a few times, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he forces you to look at him. His hands pin you down on the ground to prevent you from writhing too much. That won’t help anything. Surely touch isn’t good as his body-heat will only worsen your state. Right now you need to be still, you need cold, you need ice. He needs your attention for a second though, long enough to relay his plan. “Look at me, look at me. You’re not dying today. You’re not dying here, I am not letting that happen.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you’d been duped. You feel like an idiot. Even if Five wasn’t dead, now you’re the one who’s dying. Go figure, right? Staring up at the cloudy grey sky, you can’t help but feel like this is all so wrong. This isn’t the way things were supposed to go! This isn’t how you wanted to die.

Five doesn’t allow you to think like that. His face blocks your vision as his icy-blue eyes search your own, worry, and concern obvious within them. “Don’t be afraid, trust me. I know that you’re tired. I know, but you need to use your powers again. You need to freeze yourself. Use the snow, use the ice. Use the water in my body for all I care, you have to live! I am not losing you today, and I’ll be here, no matter what!” Sliding his hand into your own, he squeezes your hand for a moment, giving you a worried smile. His eyebrows are slightly pinched, creating worry-lines on his forehead as he hovers over you.

It shouldn’t be that simple. It can’t… and you don’t have enough energy to do that, but you don’t know how to tell Five. He’d lose his mind. If it were any other time he’d lecture you on how their family is not a family of quitters, and he, himself, is certainly not a quitter. The whisper of your name causes you to open your eyes again. Five closes the space between you to place a tender kiss on your lips. “Please… I can’t lose you too.”

With a shaky inhale, you let go of his hand and place it on your stomach. A dim blue glow surrounding your hand as you begin to freeze yourself. You have to try. A lightbulb goes off in Five’s head. He gathers the surrounding snow in his hands, beginning to pile it on top of you, almost like burying someone in the sand, only in snow. This has to work. It has to; he keeps telling himself on repeat. It drives him crazy to sit there watching, not able to do anything other than cover you in snow. He hates the snow, and any other time he’d curse it, but right now he’s grateful to the universe. The faint sound of fighting in the barn worries him, and he contemplates the idea of helping his siblings… but he can’t leave you. What if you die? He’d never forgive himself if he wasn’t here and you were alone taking your last breath.

His heart pounds in his chest and he takes shaky breaths as he freezes his ass off. It’s cold as fuck out here, though he knows you don’t feel it right now. Underneath the snow he’d placed atop your stomach he spots a brighter blue glow, which must mean it’s working, right?! It has to be. It has to be. Five scoots a little closer as he watches with anticipation. Your eyes flutter closed again, lips void of color from dehydration. Calling your name, you don’t answer.

The beating of your heart slows down, you can feel it within you. Things don’t hurt anymore, and you’re thankful for that. It’s just as you’d predicted, though, and the only thing you regret is not being able to tell Five that you love him. He watches as your chest slows, your breathing becoming more spaced out. Anger, resentment, regret, dread, and horror all fill his gut as he slowly processes what’s happening. Five isn’t a crier, but as he stares stoically at your body, he feels tears start to well up in his eyes. With a quiet whimper, he hangs his head, bangs falling in his face as he sniffles, unable to process this. Whispering your name, as if it were a question, as if he’s expecting an answer, Five’s eyes widen as yours flutter open. “Oh- thank the forces that be!” A heavy sigh escapes him as he hurriedly pushes the snow off of you and helps you sit up. Snowflakes stick to your hair, which elicits a genuine smile from Five. He raises his hand to brush your hair behind your ear and run it down your hair before cupping your cheek.

Both of you open your mouths to speak at the same time, though you beat him to it. “I love you, Five.”

“I love you too,” he whispers in response, never once taking his eyes off yours. The hand is soft on your cheek and it makes you utterly happy that you’re both alive. Noticing him leaning in, you close the space between you with a soft and yet desperate kiss. He thought he’d lost you; you thought you’d lost him. Neither of those things were true. A rumbling of the ground causes both of you to pull away, realization dawning on you that the fight isn’t over yet.

#Five Hargreeves x Reader #Number Five x Reader #tua five #tua five x reader #tua reader insert #the umbrella academy fic #the umbrella academy reader insert #my writing #Five Hargreeves x Reader Angst #Angst #misc. sentences prompt list

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frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

Sharp Edges

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: “They say home is where your heart is, but what if my heart is six feet underground with you?”

Warnings: heavy angst, grieving, major death, depression, brief mention of implied vomiting, funeral at the end

A/N: sorry if you came here for a good time, but this is not it! based on these Sad Sunday and Fluff Monday blurbs! I’d recommend reading them first since they’re referenced in this, but not entirely necessary. anyway, excited to hear your thoughts! also I meant to post a request today and save this for next week but I started writing this during work and couldn’t stop. so I’ll work on getting requests out next week since I’ve got Sad Sunday tomorrow!

marvel requests?

Wanda Maximoff misses you.

When the news broke that you’d died from your injuries before she could get to you, her body collapsed on the spot. Her mind instantly recalled the memory of the last time she’d seen you truly happy.

For a week straight, your hands were covered in clay. Due to your lack of a childhood, you’d never gotten to experience normal things like attempting pottery in an art class. When you finally discovered it, the team never heard the end of it. You’d annoyed Tony into buying a kiln after coming home with enough clay to build a small village and got to work.

You worked a while on making tiles and carving winter trees and flowers into them, eventually moving onto dishes. You’d perfected plates and bowls but couldn’t figure out mugs, which only made you work harder to the point where Wanda had to drag you to the kitchen and bed each day.

On that seventh day you’d run into Wanda’s room, tackling her into a pile of laundry she was sorting because you were just that excited. You’d finally made a mug worth putting into the kiln, and a celebratory kiss was in order. She’d helped you pick out colors to paint it with, sporting a proud smile and eyes full of adoration.

She pressed repeat on your ecstatic screams echoing in her thoughts, hoping to drown out the cries of pain she’d heard over the phone. You’d been taken by an enemy from her very last mission, someone who had no knowledge that when Wanda disappeared months prior, she left you behind. They could only assume that you would be the easiest way to find her, not aware that you were just as in the dark on her whereabouts.

She’d listened with tears streaming down her cheeks as your captor made you beg, packing her belongings frantically while each whimper of her name turned her stomach a bit more. The regret of leaving her Lovely behind was immense, and she wanted nothing more in the moment than burning her enemy alive and bringing you into her arms forever.

There was a mixture of emotions in everyone when Wanda finally reached the compound, much slower upon receiving knowledge that your body rested there. Broken spirits lay behind defeated and tearful eyes, but looking into Steve’s nearly sent her crumbling to the floor again.

They were cold and dark, as they earned the right to be. The eyes of a man who comforted his best friend for weeks, day and night, when the love of her life deserted her in her sleep. He was no stranger to your heavy sobs in the shower, overheard when he put sweaters in the dryer and left them in the bathroom because you shivered constantly. Your lifeless eyes at the dinner table when he forced you to leave your room. Sitting with you in the medical wing after breaking your wrists on the punching bag.

As far as Steve Rogers was concerned, Wanda deserved every bit of pain she felt.

This thought mixed in with the flashes of his memories of your suffering is what sent her to the floor, gasping for air with a wet face. Through Natasha and Tony’s legs as they approached her she caught him walking away, and it only made it harder to breathe.

Your funeral came days later, and Wanda spent the entirety of the time in your room. The scent of your favorite lotion on her hands pulled her into a nightmare filled sleep, and she found comfort in it knowing that her reality upon waking up was far more painful. After taking a shower and checking with FRIDAY on Steve’s location in the building, she found herself staring at an empty space in one of the kitchen cupboards.

“Wanda, what’s going on?”

She turned at the sound of Pepper’s voice, heart clenching painfully at the sight of her formal dress. “Where’s her mug?”

“She smashed it.”

“What?” She wanted to ask why, but stopped herself in fear of the answer.

“She used it for the first time a month after you left. When she went to wash it, she saw where you’d painted on the bottom ‘Lovely’s Mug, Do Not Use’ and threw it against the nearest wall.”

Wanda pushed past Pepper and sprinted to the closest bathroom, not even caring if anyone walked past and heard the violent act of everything she’d held back spilling out. Gentle hands came a few minutes later, one rubbing her back and the other wrapping any loose hairs around her poorly formed bun. When she’d finished, the toilet was flushed for her and a half empty bottle of water was shoved into her shaky grip.

“Rinse.”

She blinked in surprise at the stern tone, turning her teary gaze to meet eyes much softer than days prior. She stood on shaky legs after following his instruction and using the water, her confusion only growing as he helped her lean against the sink for support.

“I thought you hated me,” she voiced her concern into the quiet room, and Steve sighed.

“I want to, trust me.” He took the bottle from her and used his free hand to scratch at his beard nervously. “I loved--love her like family and when you left, it felt like she left too. Just when I thought I was getting her back, she was taken from me for good. As much as I want to hate you, I can’t. Especially knowing that until her last breath, she loved you.”

He stepped forward again, pulling Wanda into a warm embrace as tears rolled down both of their cheeks. The air grew still, heavy with emotion and silence punctuated with their sniffles.

“I hate that I ruined something she was so proud of making. Everything I touched of hers, I destroyed. Her mug, her heart. I wish I’d never left, and sometimes I wish I never met her. She would’ve done much better without me.”

Her next sniffle was cut short when Steve pulled away just enough to make eye contact.

“You may have made a small part of her life hard, but you spent much more time making her happy. Because of you, she stopped being so afraid of nighttime storms, instead associating it with time to spend close to you. She tried new things and worked harder on missions to help create a safe future for the two of you to exist in. And if anything, she’s inspired me to do the same, for you and all of us.”

Wanda remained silent as she mulled over his words, continuing to do so as she got dressed for the worst event of her life, only tied with Pietro’s funeral. She sat in the front row between Steve and Natasha, a numbness taking over as she listened to everyone speak so highly of you. Her arms held tightly to Tony in comfort as he cried in the middle of his speech, allowing Pepper to take over as she took his place in front of everyone.

“This is--for the second time--the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’m not here to talk about me. I want to talk about my best girl, the one I only ever referred to as Lovely, from the moment I met her. In fact, I’d like to talk directly to her, if you don’t mind.”

She turned her gaze directly above the crowd toward the sky, smiling a bit when a bird crossed her line of vision.

“Lovely, I’m so sorry I left you behind. I thought I was protecting you from the monster I believed myself to be, but instead I just made everything worse. I should have stayed. We never got to finish that show we were binge-watching, and I don’t think that I ever will. Not without you.”

She paused for a moment to breathe, also taking the time to clear space on her cheeks for the next round of tears.

“I should have stayed to be around for the next thing you got into after pottery. You deserve to be that excited about something again. I loved the way you’d say my whole name with that shiny look in your eye that just made me love you so much more, and I remember you telling me that if you weren’t so afraid of annoying me, you’d call me by my full name all the time.”

Her eyes blinked as tears clouded her vision once more, allowing them to fall as she turned to your picture beside your covered body.

“I want to say thank you for being an amazing friend and even better girlfriend, Lovely. I didn’t deserve to have you, but I’m glad I was gifted with being a part of your life anyway. I hope that wherever you are, you’re as happy as you made me, and I want you to know something that will forever be true.”

She cleared her throat as her emotions began to choke her there, hands coming to wrap around the pendant of a necklace you gave her as her final words came out in a whisper.

“Wanda Maximoff misses you.”

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @marie-03

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #the avengers #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #marvel x reader #marvel #mcu x reader

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 4 years

Text

Thoughts on, Invader Zim Quarterly: Holiday Special

WEEEE WISH YOU A MERRY JINGLY WE WISH YOU A MERRY JINGLY!

Ahhhhh It’s out! I’m so excited!

But I always get excited when it has my man Membrane and my man Eric Trueheart involved with the comics.

Also santa.. Tbh, I was excited and nervous about this quarterly.

Excited because it has Membrane santa backstory...

But I was nervous because that it means they might bring back the santa-blob monster from the Holiday special on the TV... and The Christmas special is one of my least favorite IZ episodes... I mean... I rewatch it occasionally, and it’s fun, but I’m just kinda used to IZ having more BITE in it’s satire if you know what I mean? The Christmas Special in the IZ universe doesn’t really say anything about the capitalism of Christmas... it’s not like IZ hasn’t made fun of capitalism before. (that’s the whole show) The Christmas Special in the show just kinda fell flat of my expectations of what an Invader Zim episode should be....

The only thing I respect the Holiday Special for, is that it goes down the “Santa isn’t real” route in a kid’s show and sticks to it. (there’s no “real santa” that shows up and “solves everything”) All of the “Santa’s Helpers” confused the Santa mythos with the Christianity Jesus mythos. (”waiting one day for his return”) Which makes sense, since IZ is like dystopian future Suburbia Hell. I just kinda like that there’s no “real santa” that interfered to “fix everything” and that Zim himself ended up CREATING Santa when he didn’t exist previously. Like I find that kinda cool...

Other then that, I just kinda wanted something else from the Hoilday special then what I got. (It taking priority over scrapped episodes like “the trail” and “Ten minutes to doom” and “mopiness of doom” does not help it’s case in being one of my C-tier episodes...)

So maybe this quarterly will fill the void of what I wanted out of a Holiday special? Well, let’s see.

SPOILERS FOR THE QUARTERLY BELOW THE CUT

Ways to get Dana off-board immediately: Monster Santa is canon.

I always never liked to view the special as canon for ways that it fell flat before.

And I had the excuse of saying that the snowman was an unreliable narrator and I could adapt it down the line in my fic as a different story.

I just didn’t like the idea of Monster-horror-blob santa... Like... Cool design... but he just kinda represents everything I disliked about the special... (including the major inconsistency of when Tak’s ship got fixed...)

But then again.. I need to remember IZ’s lore isn’t as consistent as I think it is sometimes...

Okay, fine. Monster blob santa real... what else you got for me, Holiday special?

FACE HUGGER SANTA! FACE HUGGER SANTA! I AM NOT INTO IT!

WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?! NO. DANA HATES THIS!

Okay, kinda into it because this means that ZIM CREATED SANTA in this mythos... I am dying.... wait.. this takes place in the future then...soo...?

haoFhaGHAOhfgg

It was all a dream?!

GOOD.

my heart couldn’t take it if horror-santa was real...

Also... that nightcap and bed... Does this mean we’re going to have an Invader Zim Christmas Carol?!?!?! I know that’s been adapted a schmillion times but I would be so into that....

Also... Flying... hamm...

Good ol’ Zim... Repressing those memories...

Also this being the THIRD ETF reference in a quarterly, It can be very safe to say the Quarterly issues take place after the events of ETF.

Clembrane exists in the Quarterly, Membrane has robot arms, Zim remembers this (kinda) Yeah this is definately ETF verse and it’s here to stay.

Christmas Carol?! I’m down for this... and I can’t help but notice their claws look familiar

OH HOLY HELL I WAS RIGHT! THESE GUYS! I LOVE THESE GUYS?!

Why are you here tho?

I’m a bit lost on why these guys wanta take over the earth, but they’re hilarious so I’m just glad they’re here.

Also... The Christmas Special is Schrodinger's Christmas... did it happen, or was it a dream, or the tales of a lunatic snowman... I guess I’ll never know.

The issue goes on for an IZ Christmas Carol parody (heck yea) and the visions are all hilarious and I’m not gonna spoil them here... but...

Eric.... this is terrifying..........thanks I hate it.

TINY DIB THOUGH! GHAOGHAHGAHAHA

THIS IS GREAT

THE MORE DIB SUFFERS THE MORE I LOVE IT!

“Though I am Dib and sickly father”

I’m dying XDDDDD

Also... What the fuck is Zim’s reaction here...

I find it funny that Zim has put Dib into simulated realities before... (in the show and comics) and in the show, Dib is all powerful and in the comics, Dib is just himself and Zim is his brother..

But seeing a simulated Dib all weak and pathetic and chronically ill BOTHERS ZIM?!?!

That’s... well that’s interesting.

Thought he’d laugh at this honestly, but he seems greatly annoyed...

I CHANGED MY MIND! THIS IS THE BEST THING!

(those who know me know why I’m dying over this)

YES!!!

ZIM DOESN’T LIKE WHEN PEOPLE FEEL BAD FOR HIM OR PITY HIM!

(which confirms like a lot of my hcs and adds spicy kindling to my au much mad respect)

This I find interesting... Zim complepative over his lonely/abandoned grave. It’s like he really doesn’t know how to feel. It’s more of a numbness then a sadness. Or he noticed how empty his life is...

He feels lonely and empty about it... which tracks considering how Zim’s greatest fear in the Trial was to be deleted and never be remembered by anyone.

I don’t know... This panel makes me feel things...

Johnen: Haha. Zim’s not that deep a character.

Eric: Hey for the Christmas special, let’s have Zim parody a Christmas carol and feel lonely staring at his own empty grave when he realizes no one cares about him or misses him.

Johnen: Cool. Do it.

What are you two assholes doing to me, man?! I have feelings!

AND ONCE AGAIN!

Zim hates pity and people feeling bad and sorry for him.

Man this makes me so sad... And it really feels like this issue looked into my brain again, cause I have some plans relating to Zim not wanting sympathy or pity from anyone later down the line (okay I’ll shut up about my au. We’re talking Zim here)

And of course, Zim breaks everything like he usually does. (this time on purpose)

Also nice callback that Zim remembered that Dib said he liked his boots one time in the Poop-wizard issue.

Also, it ends? I guess this quarterly has a few shorter stories this time... which I’m fine with.

Also, Zim should consider Green and Blue like D-list friends at this point and just invite them in for some fundip or something (come on, Zim, it’s Christmas.....)

GASP!?!?!

LITTLE MEMBRANE!!!

AND GRANDPARENTS CONFIRMED!!!

Wait... so his Parents are scientists too? Is that why he always wanted to be a scientist?

But then wait.... If Membrane inherited Membrane Labs from his parents... Why is HIS FACE the brand of the Company?..... There’s so much Membrane-face brand merch in the show. (it decorates his home..)

Like even if they were dead, if his parents founded Membrane labs, I feel they’d still be the face. of the company... (that’s how a lot of corporate faces are these days... they show some old dead guy who made the company as opposed to the son who inherited the Company.... Like everyone knows who Walt Disney/Mickey Mouse is, but unless you pay close attention to that kinda thing, not everyone knows who the current chairman or CEO is in the modern age....)

I just find that a bit odd.

Anyways... I feel people can still do what they want with Membrane’s parents and get away with it. I’m not changing my “his parents were farmers” headcanon. Sorry comic..

BUT I LOVE THEIR DESIGNS.

I love how Membrane looks a lot like his mother, and his father is just BUFF GAZ with a pipe.... Truely legends.

GASP!!!

COLLEGEBRANE COLLEGEBRANE COLLEGEBRANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LOOKOUT DIB, THIS IS YOUR FUTURE!

I FUCKING LOVE HOW OILY HE LOOKS.. AND IT ADDS UP CAUSE...

The Membrane Men when they don’t shower or bathe in months.....

Someone help these two.

(thank god Membrane got better at personal hygiene.)

Also Teenbrane STILL has his human arms and not his robo-arms.

This means he loses his arms later in life... YUSH HORRAY FOR HEADCANNONS BEING VALIDATED!

He didn’t lose his arms in a shark accident when he was a KID! It happened WAY LATER!

NICE!

OH MY GOD HE IS BABY!

HE IS SO SHY AND ACKWARD! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

I LOVE HIM!

He is just... all sweat and hiding his work but also very passionate and spiteful.

Like you can see who he grew up to become, and you can also see how a kid like Dib came out of a man like him...

But I love social anxiety awkward early twenties/late teens Membrane... He is a baby!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

MEMBRANE ;w;

Basically, Membrane knows that Santa isn’t real, but he doesn’t want to be mad at his parents so he harbors a grudge on Santa instead... THAT’S SO SWEET I’M CRYING TTmTT

LIKE THAT IS SO SWEET AND I’M CRYING!

(also I love how me and Ceph understand Membrane’s character too well that the gesture he does in the 2nd panel here are reminisant of our fic so many times... Like we have his mannerisms down and I love when the mask slips from Membrane and we get to see a real person... augh soo good)

WHO GAVE THEM THE RIGHT TO MAKE MY MAN THIS SAD?! ONLY I CAN MAKE HIM SAD!

MEMBRANE TTMTT

AUUUGHH

Also probably guessing the parents are dead... I’m just laughing at their designs...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Yes you are, Professor Membrane... Don’t let anyone tell you different. (actually, please do) Well, I mean, At least you’re trying and get progressively better.

(also... this probably means everytime Dib has asked his Dad for a dangerous weapon to fight Zim with, Membrane just gives it to him no questions asked and I’m doing a MAJOR concern about this man’s parenting skills... get help please good sir!)

Also, Dib really saved the day again here (like he did in Dib’s big day)

Dib called about destroying santa when Membrane was in one of his lowest points... He hides it really well... Especially from his children..

Ah.. I loved that one.

But I’m a huge Membrane Simp though.

I did find the stuff about Membrane’s parents a little weird... like I said regarding how Membrane’s face is the brand of Membrane labs...

Could be true that they were other scientists and that Membrane founded Membrane labs later... but that seems highly unlikely...

Also... Why does the house look that hug when in the christmas special, it looked kinda like...well... just not that, and kinda more humble from the interior and not some big rocket lab...

So yeah... AMAZING character building for Membrane (which I eat up)

Hilarious Grandparent Designs. But I still prefer @esthyradler ‘s Grandparents. The superior Grandparents.

Anyways... The Quarterly was GREAT!

I kinda find it funny the Zim story is the weaker one of the two again... But I honestly blame the Christmas Horror blob connection and the Christmas Carol parody.

Or maybe my Membrane Bias is clouding my mind here. I do have Zim bias but sometimes Zim can frustrate me. There’s just so many times Zim can do and say the same things you know? Zim is my baby, but sometimes his denial and annoyance with everyone can be very predictable at points. Zim was just way more fun in the last quarterly than this one.

With Membrane it’s more of a blank slate what to do with him cause he ony started really mattering as a character since ETF. Yes, I do love show Membrane, but I admit he wasn’t exactly a character then. More of a presence and excuse for why Dib had access to lab equipment. With Dib’s Dilemma and this Hoilday special, the Quarterly folks seem determined to turn him into a fully realized character with the rest of the cast and I’m extremely excited to hear that!

(Computer issue/backstory WHEN?!)

I don’t really have ratings or systems for these but hope you liked my thoughts.

Merry Christmas everyone.

#Invader Zim #invader zim quarterly #IZ comics #IZ comics Spoilers #danachan's rants #Professor Membrane

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

Note

" Leave! Me! Alone! " (for the prompt thing :3)

*Fully dusts off BATIM Monster AU due to it being the spooky month* You know, I don't think I've pinned down what type of monster Thomas was when I started this...

And I recently realized that I have a strong lack of vampires in this AU.

The GENT Mechanic wasn't a full-on monster hater. He had no interest in joining any monster-hunting group that sniffed him out, he often rolled his eyes at small-town preachers who looked down at them, and he mostly minded his own business when it came to the tricky relationship between humans and monsters.

But he also wasn't anywhere as enthusiastic about the studio as Joey and Allison were. He was a sensible man, he knew that monsters were dangerous and that it was stupid not to only trust them at an arm's length.

He could admit that he admired that his client could go as far as to start an entire animation empire just to ensure that his friend (and many others he had met along the way) would be in a place where they weren't seen as outcasts and wouldn't stop doing what they loved because of their circumstances, but he couldn't help but feel... wary of the majority of the studio's strange inhabitants.

Nobody would blame the human mechanic for avoiding the music department as often as he could, knowing the Music Director and how he viewed humans, it would be like blaming a mouse for avoiding a lion's den.

At the same time, he would get funny looks from others as he never went near the studio without a silver cross, an iron ring, a small bag of mixed herbs that was dubbed 'monster bane' due to it being a mix of various monster-repelling plants, and a bag of salt. Because of this, Thomas was not a popular person in the mostly-monster populated studio, but that didn't matter to him.

This wasn't his circus, it wasn't his monkeys, and once his contract ended, he'd probably never go there again. At least, that's what he would tell himself until the day wearing his cross started to burn himself.

--------

"It's a good thing that Allison found you in this state and threw your... wards away imminently." Dr. Hackenbush sighed as he continued to apply the numbing paste to his still twitching patient's neck. "Due to the secrecy surrounding vampire covens, their reluctance to talk about their various races' weaknesses as they're a monster hunter's favorite prey, and the many different types of vampires in the world, it's actually hard to determine what can and can't kill a recently turned vamp. Especially when one can't remember the circumstances of their change."

Tom was partly focusing on what the doctor was telling him, partly freaking himself out by trying and failing to remember how and why he had turned, and mostly keeping an eye out on the entrance to the infirmary as if he expected something to fly in and finish him off.

"Vampires in general might be notoriously hard to keep down for the count, but the process of the metamorphosis from human to vampire is extremely exhausting on the newly made fledgling." The doctor stated as he moved on to put more of the paste on Tom's other injured areas. "While this wouldn't be lethal to an older vamp, it's still extremely painful to them and considered to be torture among many of their races. In your current state and judging based off of the traits I've seen so far... ...I strongly suspect that the cross would've eventually burnt your head clean off your neck if you had not been found in time."

Thomas absentmindedly put his hand where his cross would normally be and gritted his teeth.

Nobody visited him yet, nobody aside from Allison even approached the door before the doctor shooed her out. He wasn't in the state to receive visitors yet, but he could already feel the parade of smug monsters gawking at him. He could already hear them laughing at the loss of his humanity, he could already picture several of them sticking their noses up at his misery declaring 'serves you right!' at him.

"...Could you open your mouth for me Mr. Conner?"

"Huh?" The mechanic snapped out of his day-nightmare and acknowledged the doctor's request. "Oh yeah, sure."

"Thank goodness, it seems that you've been brought in just at the cusp of changing..." While Tom didn't close his mouth on the doctor, he did look at him funny when he began to paint a different paste in his mouth, specifically, on his gums and teeth. The stuff made his mouth feel strongly like static in a matter of seconds. "Comment all you want, but you'd be thanking me if you knew exactly how much of a bitch it would hurt if you had to go through this without the strongest painkillers mankind could make."

"Well I ned mure af ha stuff if I turn inta a baht manstah?"

The mechanic half sarcastically asked through an extremely numb mouth as soon as the doctor was done putting the paste in there.

"No, unlike a werewolf who will transform based on the position of the moon, a vampire's ability to turn into a bat is normally rooted in the said vampire's willpower and or their mental and emotional state. It will not hurt unless you will it to. But turning into a bat and back again will use up a lot of energy and burn a ton of calories, so I don't recommend it as of right now. For similar reasons, I also wouldn't recommend swimming twenty miles and running a marathon back to back either."

The doctor did a once-over on his patient's treated injuries and checked his vitals before giving him his normal clothes back.

"Alright, it seems that everything's up to order..." The doctor proceeded to write down a list that he handed to Thomas. "Don't eat anything until after you can fully feel your mouth again, otherwise you might accidentally cut out your own tongue. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to either come to me about it or ask around the studio for either werewolf packs or vampire covens. The latter's rarer than the former but werewolves and vampires have been known to get along well due to the pair often engaging in a symbiotic relationship."

"I thawt tat Wahwoles an vamhires hated each other..?"

He was internally grateful that the staticky feeling of his mouth was subsiding just enough for him to be able to talk normally again.

"That's a common misconception that came from World War II I'm afraid; American soldiers who happen to be vampires hate Nazis who happen to be werewolves and vice versa."

Thomas frowned as he stopped to read the list, it was basically a bunch of common vampire dos and don'ts, mostly don'ts; avoid sunlight, religious symbols and texts, mirrors in public areas, etc. He ran his tongue against his top and bottom canine teeth and while his tongue still felt off from the medicine, he could tell that those teeth were longer and sharper.

He knew that with each passing second, he was becoming more and more like one of the studio's many monsters that he was wary of, and he felt gutted because of it.

"...Thanks for everything, doc. I... I'll go ask Joey for some time off to adjust to all of... this."

-------------

Instead of going to Joey, Tom had spent the rest of the day trying to carry on with his daily tasks and work as usual, fixing up the pipes, checking on the Ink machine, mostly just trying to bury the knowledge of his vampirism in work.

Thankfully he was unbothered by the studio's workers, so it mostly worked out fine for him. Until he got to his least favorite part of the studio to work in: The music department.

Part of him was tempted to just make Wally do this, but as a werewolf, Wally would sense that he wasn't wearing silver or wolf's bane anymore and would be curious as to why he wasn't wearing any. He didn't want to lie to him but he also didn't want the Janitor to find out about his ...condition, he wasn't ready for that yet. In fact, he didn't want anyone in the studio's wolf pack to find out about this. He had goosebumps on the outside and inside just thinking about how they'd react.

He knew that they wouldn't be smug about it like how he assumed other monsters would, even worse than that. They'd know that he didn't have a coven as he was only recently turned, so they'd probably welcome him into the pack with open arms, especially if he was one of those vampires that was able to turn into a wolf too. They'd freely and willingly accept them as one of their own, a monster.

He tried to shake those thoughts away and continue to work on pipes that had been bitten into by the godforsaken raven monster. He cursed about Sammy under his breath as he fixed them as usual. He could feel the music director's presence as he did so, but unlike how this normally went, he didn't sense any hostility or hunger coming from the looming shadow of the beast in human's clothing.

Thomas had his back turned away from the normally wrathful monster, he wasn't seeing what the man's expression was. He didn't know if the damned bird was proud of his lost humanity, looking at him like he was now worthy of being an underling of his, or if the musician simply pitied him for god knows why.

But the mere presence of the beast alone was driving him crazy.

"Leave! Me! ALONE!" The vampire mechanic spun around and half-shouted half-hissed at the confused looking music director. "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'RE THINKING ABOUT ME, BUT I DON'T NEED YOU TO LOOM OVER MY WORK AND RUB IN WITH YOUR PRESENCE THAT I'M A FUCKING UNDEAD, BLOOD-SUCKING, FANGED FREAK!"

Thomas wasn't sure which reaction he was excepting from the beast, but he felt a mixture of goosebumps and anger as the director stepped forward and looked at him with intrigue.

"...Do you mean a vampire?"

"Yes, of course I do." The mechanic rolled his eyes as he fought back the urge to fight the raven. "What gave it away?"

Sammy smiled at him, not in that hungry 'I want to eat you but know that I can't' kind of smile, but also not a smug 'haha! you're a monster too now!' way. Before today, Thomas wasn't sure that Sammy was physically capable of smiling like that and it both creeped him out and made him angrier about this situation.

"Nothing, you simply told me that yourself."

"...Then why were you starring at me like that?"

The Bird monster shrugged.

"I was just wondering why your presence didn't seem to harm anyone anymore." He stated as he turned to leave Tom to do his work. "I guess I know why now."

#bendy and the ink machine #thomas connor #dr. hackenbush #sammy lawrence #fanfic #batim monster au

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Engulfed

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 30(!!!) Prompt - Crying

It’s just all too much. Everything is too much. It’s been a year and Peter can’t stand to do anything but sit here on this roof and ruminate until his mind goes blank.

Words: 2146, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Roger Harrington

TW: Depression, Survivor’s Guilt

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter can I speak with you real quick?” Mr. Harrington called as the final bell of the day rang and students started abandoning the class in droves. Ned shared a commiserating look with him as he finished packing up his things and left the room; leaving Peter to approach Mr. Harrington’s desk nervously and stand in front of it, shifting his weight back and forth nervously. “Oh!” Mr. Harrington said, holding up his arms in surrender as he closed the door behind the last student. “You can relax, you aren’t in trouble!”

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and let some of the tension drain from him muscles. “I’m not?”

Harrington raised an eyebrow at him, “Have you done something to warrant being in trouble?”

“No!” Peter said, his voice breaking a little on the end. “No sir!”

His teacher gave him a suspicious look but didn’t push it, instead gesturing for Peter to sit down in one of the empty desks as he perched on the edge of his own desk. Peter dropped his bag and sat, trying to keep his fingers from twitching from the anxiety strumming through him. Harrington observed him for a moment longer before sighing and handing Peter a folder. With curiosity, Peter opened it and paled considerably as he cycled through his latest test grade in addition to his final paper and project of the nine week grading period. There wasn’t a single grade above a ‘C’.

“So I wanted to talk to you before I handed these back tomorrow,” his teacher said gently, pulling a free chair up to the desk Peter was seated at and pulling the folder from his slack fingers. “Peter this isn’t the work I’m used to you turning in. What’s going on?”

“I uh,” Peter said, mind blanking as he flipped through his term paper that was absolutely coated in copious amounts of red ink. “I don’t know. I worked… I mean I spent… I don’t know,” he stuttered out, feeling untethered and confused.

Harrington sighed and, carefully, pried Peter’s fingers from the folder and closed it, setting it down on the desk. “You’ve seemed a little overwhelmed recently,” he said gently. “Most of your teachers have noticed it and this isn’t the only class where your work has taken a bit of a nose-dive. I know that you guys don’t always want to talk to teachers and school administrators about what’s going on in your personal life but, Peter, we’re here if you need it okay?”

Peter nodded, a little dumbly, his tongue too thick and dry to form words. He felt dizzy – he was turning in failing work in more than one class? “I uh…,” he cleared his throat and tried to wet his mouth, “I guess I have been a little… distracted recently but I’m okay,” he said and tried to hide his flinch at how unconvincing his voice sounded. He was fine right? “I’m sorry about the work, I know I can’t make up the test grade but is there any… uh… any extra credit I can do? I’ll do anything!”

“It’s alright,” Harrington said, picking the folder back up and standing. “I’m going to let you retake the test on Monday and if you write an analysis of what was wrong with your essay and correct the issues I’ll regrade it, same with the project. You’ll need to have them both to me Monday morning I can’t offer more than a ‘B’ on any of them but it should help your grade and make sure you don’t lose your scholarship.”

Peter felt like someone had ripped the floor out from under him and he had to grip the desk tightly. “My scholarship,” he whispered horrified and Harrington gave him a guilty look.

“You’ll have to speak with your other teachers on Monday about extra credit and make-up work but I believe all of them will be willing to help out,” Harrington passed the folder back to Peter who took it with numb and trembling fingers. “It’ll be fine Peter.”

“Right,” he said, feeling like he was underwater and standing shakily. “Thanks Mr. Harrington, I’ll go work on these now.” He never heard the man respond nor did he remember much of his walk home, the next thing he was aware of was standing in his room, his hoodie a little damp from the mist that had descended on the city and the barely-there drizzle that had started. Peter dropped his bag with a thump to the floor and collapsed into his desk chair.

He had work to do and he did so at an absolutely feverish pace. Reading back through his paper he had no idea how he had thought it was even marginally acceptable to turn in. He hadn’t even bothered looking at his project yet but he knew that it would look the much the same and he could already feel his gut twisting into tight knots as he considered the work he would be putting into it over the rest of the weekend.

By the time he had finished, his eyes were dry and crusty and the rain was pounding in earnest against his bedroom window; the only light coming from his desk lamp and the flickering streetlight outside his window. He sat back and blinked furiously, staring at the window with his eyes blurring in and out of focus. He could feel his heart speed up and shook his head once, hard, before jumping from his seat and stripping out of his clothes to pull on his suit.

“Hello Peter,” Karen said brightly as his HUD flickered and readings started to populate. “It is past-,”

“Mute Karen,” Peter said, voice croaking and shaky as he popped his fingers and neck. “Disable HUD and go dark.” It wasn’t often that he shut down his entire suit and went out the way he used to – just him with no extra tech – but sometimes it (and Karen) did effect his senses. And sometimes, like tonight, he just needed the silence.

He opened up his window, reveling in the cool air that creeped into his room and the drops of rain that stuck against his limbs like ice cubes. He paused for just a moment before firing a web through the fog to latch onto the building across the street, swinging out into the weather.

As he took slow laps around Queens, he let his mind drift and his body to just run on complete auto-pilot. He rarely saw any sort of major crime in rain and fog like this and his Spider Sense was quiet in his mind as he swung. Without Karen active and with his suit dark, he didn’t have his heater or GPS or access to his phone or the police scanner but he was fine with all of that. Content to just swing until he couldn’t.

The ‘until he couldn’t’ came a lot soon than he thought, his numb finger slipping on a web and sending him careening onto the top of a building where he rolled and ended up on his back, staring up at the moonless and starless night sky and the thick drops of rain. He laid there for just a moment longer, stunned and taking stock, but nothing hurt too much, he just felt detached.

With no small effort, Peter sat up and scooted over to sit with his back against the roof access, staring out over Queens but unable to see more than a few hundred feet ahead of him. His eyes unfocused and he felt his mind slowing down – blank and quiet finally.

“Do you know what time it is?” His mentor’s voice should have surprised him but, even drifting off the way he was, it was impossible to not hear the loud repulsers of the Iron Man armor. He touched down on the roof to the left of Peter and his face plate shifted up, keeping him dry from the rain but reveling his face that was a mix of disapproving and concerned. Peter just shrugged.

“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse and monotonous in the gloom. Tony furrowed his brows at him.

“You good kiddo?”

“Sure,” Peter said, looking out over the roof top again. “Fine.”

“Right,” Tony said, his voice disbelieving. “Well its past your curfew buddy and you’re completely soaked. You okay with me giving you a lift home?” Peter nodded without consideration. He was cold and he couldn’t really feel his fingertips – getting a ride home on the Iron Man express was definitely preferable than walking. “Hop on then,” Tony motioned to his back as he turned and, after a moment to psych himself up for it, Peter stood slowly and wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck.

The armor was warm and the flaps prevented Peter from getting pestered by too many of the remaining raindrops on their flight. He let his eyes slip closed as they flew, content to drift, which he realized was a mistake when he opened them a few minutes later and realized Tony had taken them to the Tower instead. “This isn’t my apartment,” he said, dropping down to land on the over-large balcony of the penthouse so that Tony could step out of the armor.

“Nope,” he agreed, shuffling Peter inside and carefully pulling his mask over his face and dropping a towel around his shoulders. “You’re staying here tonight – I know May’s working third.”

The water dripping from his damp hair onto his neck made him shiver but Peter made no move to dry off with the towel – standing just inside the entrance to the penthouse and staring ahead at his mentor who clucked his tongue and started to dry Peter’s hair off himself. “What’s going on Pete?” He asked as he rubbed the terry cloth through Peter’s curls. “This isn’t you.”

“Nothing,” Peter said, his voice sounding emotionless, “I’m fine.”

The look Tony leveled him with was that of pure disbelief but he herded Peter toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Go take a warm shower and change. I’ll make some hot chocolate and meet you in the living room when you’re done.”

Peter nodded his assent and made his way toward his en suite bathroom. The Spidey suit was sticking wetly to his clammy skin and it took some doing to get out of it but it was worth it to slip into the fancy shower his room at the Tower offered. He stood for an untold amount of time under the burning spray of water and felt the tension leave his body, his emotions swirling confusingly in his head and leaving him nearly dizzy. Deciding he couldn’t put it off any longer, Peter grabbed the towel from the heated rack and dried off, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie before making it back to the living room.

In his time away, Tony had made one of the only things he could in the kitchen: hot chocolate from scratch (a recipe from Rhodey and his college years) and was settled on the overly large couch with a pile of throw blankets. Peter sank into the nest and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, accepting the mug his mentor offered and taking a sip of the steaming drink.

“Alright out with it,” Tony said, sitting to face Peter, the expression on his face open. “Something’s going on buddy but you can tell me okay?”

“It’s October thirteenth,” Peter blurted before biting his lip.

“October thirteenth?” Tony asked with a furrowed brow. “What…?”

“Uncle Ben died a year ago,” Peter whispered, curling up further into himself. From next to him Tony let out a sigh of air.

“Oh kiddo,” he said, voice sad and filled with understanding. Peter sniffed once and felt a hot tear leak down his cheek. He didn’t bother wiping it away. “There’s… not really anything that I can say that will make it better,” Tony said as he scooted closer and sat his mug of coffee on the table in front of them. “I know that from experience but, if you ever want to talk about him you can always come to me.”

Peter nodded once and was surprised when, just a moment later, Tony reached out and pulled Peter tightly into his side in a hug. Peter’s mind went blank for a moment and then he felt his eyes well with tears that fell in silent waves down his cheeks. He had felt so overwhelmed, so underwater for weeks leading up to this day and he just…

“Let it out buddy,” tony said, pulling him in tighter and running calloused fingers through Peter’s still-damp hair. “It’s alright.”

With that permission, Peter turned himself more fully into his mentor, curling himself in tighter and letting his eyes cry themselves out.

It felt like catharsis.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump30 #Prompt: Crying #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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multi-fandom-inserts · 4 years

Text

All I Need.

Jasper Hale x Reader

I’ve made this so it can be a two parter if people want! Let me know what you think and I hope everyone is staying safe during this scary time, my inbox is open for anyone needing a chat.

______________________________________________________________

It started like the first snow of winter – light and gentle – nothing at first to be concerned with, the numbers of runaway teenagers and drifters gently began to increase, but just as innocent as the snowflakes appeared, it quickly became an avalanche as the bodies of workers around the coast and hunters began to appear in the vast woodlands surrounding the isolated town.

It wasn't until the echoing sound of a glass vase, smashing against the hardwood flooring, a single shiver travelled throughout your body as the whole room became slow-motion. The entire Coven turned it what would have been lightening speed – if your vision hadn't slowed – to face Alice, her large eyes, blinking rapidly yet somehow remaining blank and glassy – a wave of confusion and concern spread throughout the household as Edward's and Jaspers faces sunk with dread.

You gently touched Alice's hand but in her frozen state, only one word manages to force itself from your mouth. “Victoria.”

That single name confirms everything we all dreaded the most. Those drifters and runaway teenagers weren't just a coincidence. She was making an army, but not just a regular human army – an army of Newborns, the most powerful and cruel creatures to exist, they have no drive except to hunt and kill.

Carlisle’s eyes flicker towards Jasper and yourself as a aura of concern surrounded him. A familiar feeling blossoms in your chest as you stare at Bella and Edward, your eyes and face couldn't hide the glimmer of resentment towards the pair, if he hadn't bought her along that day, if she hadn't of been so numb to the danger, then we wouldn't of had to hunt down and murder our own kind, Victoria's mate – James.

“Y/N.” Edward speaks lightly, clearly breaking the rule about reading your mind.

His hand coasts across the skin of your upper arm but you pull away like his touch burned you.

“We need to start preparing,” Jasper said, taking the focus off you for a minute, “We all need to train and plan a location that'll work to our advantage because trust me, if we want to survive this, we'll need it.” Carlisle nods silently.

“Bella, you better go talk to Jacob, we'll need the help of the pack too.” you mutter, loud enough for the human to hear you before leaving the room in silence.

XXX

The frosty ground crunches beneath your feet as your dart through the dense woodland, dodging the towering trees, upturned shrubs and roots with large rocks and ridges with ease, throughout the years you'd memorised the area like the back of your hand.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot the large clearing and slowed down towards the edge of the trees, allowing your sprint to turn into a walk. The tender ground turns from soft moss and dirt to a tough, grey stone; the clearing is several meters wide and across before leading to the edge of a vast cliff.

You stood in silence as you sat on the very edge of the cliff, the toes of your shoes hanging over the edge as you look down at the thrashing waves beating against the cliff bottom. Your mind wanders as you stare out at the water, you twist the small ruby ring on your middle finger, watching as the small rays of light dance across your skin making it sparkle, a young child had once told you, “It's like you made of diamonds.”. Breathing deeply you look out at the calmness in the distance is the opposite to what was about to occur.

After a few more minutes, you notice out of the corner of your eyes a blonde haired man watching you intently, a small smile on his lips as he takes in your stance, Jasper had always admired how strong you are, the way no matter what happened, you always had a strong aura around you but with Jaspers powers, he knew exactly how you felt – scared.

He approaches you carefully, “Talk to me darlin', you've been distant.” he speaks softly, his rich southern accent peaking through, making you smile.

“I guess I'm a little sceptical about fighting Newborns again.” you admit, subconsciously running your nails softly across one of the scars that decorates your body, this one is what made you what you are today, and it covered the small patch on the middle of your shoulder.

Jasper nods slowly, his body radiates with your emotion of fear and nervousness. He wants to make you feel better but you made him promise he would never mess with your emotions, so instead, he reaches out and touches your cheek with his hand, grazing his thumb across your cheekbone tenderly. He engulfs you in a loving hug, peppering light kisses on your forehead and cheek, causing you to erupt in giggles, you pull away and look up at him, taking in the beauty of his golden eyes, thick light hair and sharp facials features, you tip-toes up to peck his lips quickly causing Jasper to smirks before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, almost of though he was attempting to keep you warm.

“Come on, let's go train some mutts.” Jasper half-joked before detaching himself from you, pushing you gently and sprinting off into the distance with you hot on his heels.

XXX

About a mile from the training ground, you and Jasper slow down and walk leisurely the rest of the way. Everyone was wearing workout gear with the girls wearing their hair out of their faces. Carlisle and Esme are the first to greet us – Esme affectionately kisses your cheek – before you greet your adoptive brothers and sisters, Emmett is excited to start training, any excuse to show how strong he is, Rosalie is stood with a stiff upper lip as Alice chats to her excessively. A few minutes later, Edwards car screeches round the corner and stops abruptly, he jumps out before dashing round to open Bella's door, helping her out like she was made of glass.

“Are they coming?” you ask.

Edward nods silently as a growl echoes throughout the woodland and a few seconds later, eight huge wolves of a variety of difference colours and shades appear, their muzzles pulled back in a constant snarl as they approach us. The Coven opens from the circle we had created to stand in a line facing the wolf pack.

“They don't trust us to be in their human forms.” you say, breaking the silence between us all.

Edward nods, Carlisle steps forward confidently, “They came, that's what matters.” he says before turning to Edward, “Will you translate for me?”

He nods silently and approaches with Carlisle, Jasper moves us forward slightly as Alice stands by Bella and Rosalie and Emmett hold hands. You watch as a medium brown wolf with shades of ginger kept looking over at Bella, you smile gently when you realise it's Jacob. Carlisle thanks the wolves for coming, who bark or growl in response before turning to Jasper and yourself. “Jasper and Y/N have experience with Newborns,” he announces, guesting to us, “They'll teach us how to defeat them.”

Jasper nods at the creatures as you offer a friendly smile, your eyes link with the large black wolf as he takes in you for a minute before turning back to Carlisle and growled. Your stomach twisted slightly at the response to you but Edwards glance assures you it wasn't aimed directly at you.

“They want to know how the Newborns differ from us.” Edward says.

Carlisle went to speak but you interjected, “They are stronger and more lethal than us. In the first few months of our new life we are the most powerful because our human blood still lingers in our bodies.”

Jasper smirks at you, “My beautiful mate is right, that's why they are created...” a bitter tone takes over his voice as he slips into his natural deep southern accent making you watch him intently, the Major in him began to peak through making you smile and your eyes darken. The Major was someone you hadn't seen fully in a number of years, Jasper felt your arousal and turns to look at you momentarily before continuing on with what he was saying, “A Newborn army doesn't need thousands like a human army and no human army can stand against them.”

Jasper took a step backwards and motions to you, “The two most important things to remember are, one; never let them get their arms around you, they'll crush you instantly, and two; never go for the obvious kill, they'll be expecting that and that's how you die.”

You turn to Jasper, “You want to go first?”

He laughed, “No my darling, ladies first.”

A small smile settles on your lips as you turn to your big brother, Emmett, you teasingly gesture at him with your index and middle finger like an old kung-fu film, he returns your smirk and both take positions, Jasper acts as a referee giving tips to us as we fight, “Don't hold back,” you tease cracking your neck.

Emmett laughs loudly before launching himself at you, for the first few moments you let him throw you about to make him overly confident before you launch yourself up his body, legs wrap around his head, you throw your body around causing Emmett to flip over onto his back, the ground beneath the pair of you shaking slightly as the dirt cakes the clothing you both wore.

Jasper smiles at you, “Never get to confident and lose focus.” he says as the pair of you separated.

Next you up was Edward and Carlisle, Jasper remaining the referee as the wolves allowed you to stand next to them, giving them tips and tricks that they can use, the wolves accepted your help, letting out noises and expressions to let you know if they want more information. You even went as far as to show them where you most vulnerable places are and where the best places to bite and claw at will be.

Jasper called you away for a minute to pair us with Rosalie, you winked at her to tease her, she always needed to be the best at something, the fight was actually a smidge harder than Emmett, Rosalie was more graceful in her moves, quicker in the sense that she was strategic but even with that, you had her in a headlock in less that ten minutes, tight enough to cause her to panic but not enough to do her any actual harm.

You allowed Jasper to train Alice, the way he smiles at her made you wince a little inside, especially because of how she blushed – not literally of course but figuratively – he was easier on her than the rest.

Once training was over, you headed back over to the wolf pack with Edward to ask if there was anything else they felt they needed to know or learn, you even offered to do one-on-one training with them so they knew what it was like to fight a vampire. The large black wolf – the Alpha, Sam – bowed his head at you.

As the rest of the Coven and pack mingled amongst themselves, you spotted Bella sitting on the bonnet of Edwards off-roader, you headed over at human speed not to startle her. She looked up from her palm and smiled at you.

“Hey.” you speak, hopping up on the bonnet with her.

Bella's aura softened, she had always been worried that you didn't like her, in that respect you were a lot like Rosalie, just softer round the edges, you trusted but when it was earned and you protect yourself with a hardened exterior because it was drilled into you during your first years as a vampire.

“You know I don't blame you, Bella.” you spoke after a few minutes, touching her arm with your hand gently. “This is all just one huge flash back for me, and Jasper.”

Bella turned to you, “How do you guys know all this stuff?” she asks, her voice in a whisper.

“We didn't exactly have the same upbringing as the rest of them,” you mutter, pulling up one of your sleeves to expose a series of bite marks all the way up, some overlapped, others weren't neat. “Battle scars.”

Bella gripped your arm and inspected them closer, you smile at her inquisitive side, before pulling up her sleeve to reveal the bite James had given her. She looks at you momentarily and you just nod, confirming silently that vampires had made the marks on you.

“How? I mean...” Bella trailed off.

You let out a small laugh, “I'm originally from England, if you couldn't tell from the accent, but when I was turned my maker realised I had a rare... ability, shall we say... he saw more benefit for him in trading me,” you say, Jasper stood several meters away, leant up against one of the large trees, listening to you, “We arrived in Texas waiting to meet Maria, the leader of the Coven my maker wanted to do a trade with but we were attacked by her Newborns, my maker was killed almost instantly but I... let's just say I cost her ten Newborns that day.”

Bella studied your face as you bit your lip, memory lane for you wasn't the happiest, “She was making an army?”

“They were apparently very common in the south, constant battles for territory. Maria always won, she was careful and smart but she one important weapon – Jasper, he was a Major in Texas Calvary, when I arrived he was in charge of training us and his ability to control emotions served her the best. She never let them live beyond a year, it was Jaspers job to –”

You swallow hard, Jasper felt a sudden wave of sadness echoing through him.

“Dispose of them.” Jasper said, appearing in front of you making Bella jump slightly, “I could feel everything they felt, the fear, the disappointment, the wondering of worry. I thought what Maria and I had was love, but I was just a puppet.”

He paused, glancing at me.

“It wasn't until Y/N arrived I realised what love what,” he laughed look at you, “She was just as stubborn and strong then as she was now, she started training the Newborns with me but she was also the one to convince me to runaway. If it wasn't for her, I have no idea what I would of done, or what I would be now.”

You smile widely and smugly, “I sound awesome right?” you wink.

Jasper and Bella laugh along with you, soon enough Edward approached us, “Come on, we better get you home.” he says, scooping Bella off the bonnet carefully before pushing you off, Jasper catches you bridal style as you flip Edward off.

Your mate hugs you into the side of him as we watch them leave, a comfortable silence settles over the clearing, everyone else had headed home leaving you and Jasper once again alone. You look up at Jasper with a loving expression.

“You saved me.” you whisper.

Jasper smirked and looked down at you, “No, you saved me and you have saved me every single day since.”

You lean up, wrapped your arms up around his neck, pulling his lips to you. The pair of you work perfectly, tongues soon battle for dominance as the kiss heats up, soon Jasper pushes you against the trunk of a tree, his forehead against yours as you both pant – unnecessarily of course but something's are just naturally going to take your breath away.

“So Major, what's you plan now?” you tease.

Jasper shakes his head at the nickname, “Well ma'am, I plan making you very happy and moaning a hell of a lot, how does that sound?”

You can't help but laugh loudly, you put on your thickest southern accent impersonation, “Well sir, that sounds mighty fine.” and wink at him.

Your mate laughs loudly before kissing you again. A smile remains on your lips throughout the kisses, you may not be like Alice and see the future but you know for sure that everything you will ever need, is right here with Major Jasper Whitlock.

#jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #twilight one shot #twilight imagine #jasper hale one shot #jasper hale imagine #twilight reader insert #reader insert #jasper hale is a babe

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toomuchofabastard · 3 years

Text

O Unhappy Dagger

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: T for violence and language

Warnings: Major Character Death, tragedy, violence, mind control, implied suicide, bonus happy ending available in linked post

Word count: 3,711 (+ 760)

Fic Summary: Crowley should have known they’d find some other way to punish him. He’d hoped – naïvely, it seemed – that they didn’t have the creativity, the almost-uniquely human sadism, to think up something like this. To realise the one vulnerability that he’d kept nestled in his heart, hidden from view.

This is my fic for @darkomenszine Vol 1! Vol 2 will be available soon if Good Omens darkfic is your thing 😈

READ ON AO3

___

The sign on the door of the bookshop read ‘closed’, but that didn’t stop Crowley.

Of course, it wouldn’t under normal circumstances, but this time was different. Rather than sauntering up to the threshold with a subtle spring in his step and a ready grin for his angel, Crowley’s heart pounded with terror as he approached the entrance to A. Z. Fell & Co. He felt as though some phantom hand had a grip around his throat, applying a pressure so crushing that he couldn’t speak and could barely breathe. What breaths he could draw were rapid with panic. His footsteps rang out against the flagstones as he strode forward – except that they weren’t his footsteps. Oh, it was his body, drawing closer and closer to the familiar doorway. But Hell’s footsteps. Hell’s oppressive malice invading every corner of his mind, and Hell making him grip the object behind his back so tightly that his knuckles hurt.

He should have known they’d find some other way to punish him. He’d hoped – naïvely, it seemed – that they didn’t have the creativity, the almost-uniquely human sadism, to think up something like this. To realise the one vulnerability that he’d kept nestled in his heart, hidden from view.

Tucked behind him, the flames continued to burn. Gripped in his hand back there was a dagger, a dark, cruel-looking thing, not just viciously sharp on its own, but also wreathed in infernal flame. The billows were gnawing away at his back, leaving his rather expensive jacket charred and ragged – not that Hell would give a blessèd fuck about that. In this moment, he didn’t either. There was only a single, dreadful thought clawing at his brain.

Infernal flame could be meant for only one thing. Aziraphale. The only thing that could kill an angel.

Crowley shuddered inwardly with revulsion at the thought. He could actually feel Hell’s evil intent coursing through him, as he ascended the steps and watched his own hand reach for the door handle. Hell’s control had overtaken him so suddenly that he hadn’t even had a chance to fight back. He kept trying to, struggling with every fibre of his being, but to no avail. He could hardly even feel his own corporation, let alone exert control, and seeing it moving against his will was intensely disturbing – violating, even. It was Hell’s way of proving that they could take whatever they wanted from him, just use him as their puppet and then discard him. It made him want to scream, but he couldn’t even do that. He felt himself push the door handle down.

Crowley stepped through the threshold and into the quiet of the bookshop. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the cosy dimness, but then the mountains and spires of books and papers revealed themselves.

Aziraphale stood in the hollow underneath the eastern archway, facing away from Crowley. He looked completely in his element, humming distractedly to himself as he leafed through some old volume. He turned as he heard Crowley shutting the door behind himself.

“Crowley!”

The angel beamed at him, and suddenly the whole room seemed lit up from within, like the sun itself had appeared in their midst. For a brief second, the panic and revulsion in Crowley’s chest was forgotten as the luminosity of Aziraphale’s smile dazzled him. That smile – especially when meant for him – never failed to take his breath away.

Aziraphale’s gaze drifted downwards as he noticed Crowley’s hand tucked behind his back, and the angel’s eyes twinkled, creases forming at their corners as his smile grew even wider. Crowley’s heart lurched again, and the panic returned. He guessed Aziraphale was probably anticipating another box of chocolates, or a nice bottle of wine for them both to share – the sort of surprise Crowley might often reveal with a sly smile, to be met by a paroxysm of delighted wiggles. He was painfully aware of how unlikely it was that Aziraphale would ever even suspect that what was really hidden there was not a doting treat, but a weapon of evil, meant specifically for him.

At his back, the flames had scorched their way through both layers of his jacket and shirt, and were beginning to lick painlessly against the bare skin along his spine. They didn’t leave any marks. Infernal flame could glance off of his corporation just like beads of water off a duck’s back – the perks of being demonic in nature – but Crowley knew it would be devastating to angelic flesh. That knowledge terrified him.

He felt his body start to slink loosely across the room towards the angel, the disobedient muscles and sinews of his legs dragging him involuntarily closer and closer. Run, angel! He tried to scream at Aziraphale, but the words choked in his throat, only echoing emptily inside his mind. His heart was clenched so tight with dread as he approached that he could swear it was no longer beating. Not that Hell needed it to be. Apparently they could twist and use his unwilling body however they liked now, whether it was still functioning or not.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows creased into a puzzled frown as Crowley moved nearer, the smile freezing slightly on his face. The real Crowley would have said something by now, or revealed the gift, or at least returned a crooked grin, rather than the blank expression he could feel was fixed on his face. He was almost surprised the angel couldn’t smell the burning coming from his clothes, but it seemed Aziraphale had eyes only for him.

“What’s wrong, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley drew near to him, a light note of concern in his voice.

Angel, it’s not me, Crowley responded desperately inside his head. He felt himself step close. Please run. Please get away from me. Aziraphale stayed where he was. Why wouldn’t he? His trust in Crowley had always been complete, whether Crowley felt he deserved that or not.

Behind his back, Crowley’s fingers flexed on the grip of the dagger and began to draw it out from its hiding place. No no no, Crowley thought. Don’t make me do this. He fought again to regain control of his own arm, but could only watch as it rose menacingly of its own accord.

“Crowley–?” Aziraphale began, sounding shocked, and he was suddenly cut off as Crowley slashed the blade forwards towards his neck.

The chorus of screams in Crowley’s head crescendoed. No!

Aziraphale stumbled backwards out of range – thank Satan – but Crowley found himself quickly attacking again, this time trying for a low, plunging blow to the angel’s stomach. Aziraphale managed to squirm out of the way and the knife sliced instead through the back of his coat, only missing his skin by a hair’s breadth. The acrid stench of burning filled Crowley’s nose again.

“Crowley! What are you doing?” Aziraphale’s voice was aghast as he tried to retreat from Crowley’s oncoming assault. Panic and confusion contorted his face, and he held his hands up in front of him, as if in surrender. “S–Stop!”

Crowley wanted nothing more, but apparently the powers controlling him weren’t going to take that for an answer. The awful marionette of his body continued its relentless advance, numb to his attempts to reassert control, as he pursued the angel speechlessly around the bookshop. He could barely sense anything except for the throbbing echo of his heart as it hammered inside him, and the all-encompassing reek of fire and burning and smoke. That smell sent him almost blind with fear as his worst associations with it invaded his mind. Burning, burning; everything burning. The bookshop was burning, and Aziraphale was lost forever. The world was ending, the ground shaking itself apart, flames spilling up from the cracks. Plummeting downwards through wings of fire. Visions of what infernal flame could do to flesh, the screaming and the sizzling… His own screams reverberated inside his skull.

Aziraphale continued to back away from him, dodging or shrinking from each attack, but Crowley knew – and Aziraphale must also – that he couldn’t evade forever.

He’d never seen Aziraphale look so afraid of him. It was horrific. Just as much as with terror, the angel’s gleaming eyes were wide with disbelief, desperately searching Crowley’s for understanding as he was backed into a corner, clearly unable to conceive that Crowley could do this to him. Even if he could have got them out, Crowley didn’t have the words to reassure him.

The blade in his hand swung up again and speared downwards towards Aziraphale’s face. This time, Aziraphale was able to grab Crowley’s wrist and stop its path, though the point hovered fearfully close to his tearful eyes. Crowley felt the angel’s considerable strength pushing back against him, but the determination he was being filled with was enough to match him. They grappled for a moment.

“Crowley, stop!” Aziraphale begged, his voice cracking with a sob. “Please, I–I don’t want to hurt you!”

Oh fuck, hurt me, angel, Crowley thought, do whatever, just don’t let me–!

His pleas were interrupted as his traitorous body shoved Aziraphale roughly away, freeing himself from the angel’s grip. Aziraphale staggered backwards, and then tripped on the corner of a stack of books and fell down heavily onto his backside. Crowley advanced. Aziraphale still held his hands up in front of him, the heels of his oxfords scraping vainly against the floorboards as he kept trying to shuffle away. Tears were running like dewdrops down his cheeks.

Crowley lunged down onto him and thrust the knife at his breast. Aziraphale caught it again and they struggled against each other, Crowley pressing his whole weight down as the tip hovered perilously above the angel’s chest. The flames from the blade flowed up Crowley’s straining arms until he could feel them licking monstrously at the edges of his cheekbones. His teeth were gritted together. Then, underneath the flicker of the flames, he began to feel a hum vibrating up through him from where Aziraphale’s hands gripped his wrists. His heart pounded harder as he recognised the feeling of divine power – the angel’s – flowing out from the place where they were connected and fusing into him. It stung, but it wasn’t enough yet to smite him – although if Aziraphale kept pressing, he knew it would be.

“Please,” Aziraphale whispered at him. He stared up, distraught, into Crowley’s eyes. Crowley could feel him holding back the full surge of what he was capable of.

Do it, angel!, he tried to yell. Goddammit, just do it!

I’d rather be dead than spill a drop of your blood anyway.

The knife-point inched dangerously closer to the angel’s chest. Aziraphale let out another sob, but his grip on Crowley’s wrists tightened, and then his watery blue irises slowly vanished as brilliant light began to pour out of his eyes.

Crowley felt the light build inside him; scorching hot and bitingly cold at the same time, blinding white. It hurt – fuck, it hurt – but the immense feeling of relief overwhelmed the pain. Hell’s power was ebbing away, banished back into the darkness and out of his body as the light invaded. It was going to be ok. Well, he was going to die now, or whatever the equivalent process was for demons, but that was ok. Dying at Aziraphale’s hands – and in order to protect him, even if from himself – wasn’t such a bad way to go.

Suddenly, an inhuman snarl cut through his thoughts. It took Crowley a moment to realise that it had come from somewhere inside of him. Aziraphale jolted with surprise at the sound and the light wavered for an instant. It was all Hell needed.

With fiery fury, Hell’s control rushed back into Crowley, throwing him almost into a spasm as it gripped his body again. His blood seemed to ignite as it ripped through him. As his mouth opened in a silent scream, the blade in his hands dropped downwards and pierced through the angel’s breast.

No.

A gurgled cry slipped from Aziraphale’s throat, and his eyes widened in shock, his grip on Crowley’s arm clenching.

No.

As quickly as Hell’s power had overtaken Crowley, it vanished, leaving him empty. Crowley thought he could hear a triumphant laugh echo in his head as it fled.

No.

The blinding light faded away from Aziraphale’s eyes, revealing again his blue irises; full of pain, the only light in them now the glimmer of his tears and the reflection of the cursed flames burning in his chest.

For a few moments, Crowley, petrified with shock, could only return his stare. Then suddenly, his senses rushed back to him and he noticed his hands still gripping the fiery blade which was buried in his angel’s body. He hastily ripped it out – causing Aziraphale to let out another strangled cry – and flung it aside.

“Oh shit,” he gasped, scrambling over to cradle Aziraphale in his arms. The angel jerked away as Crowley lifted him into his lap, though whether from the pain of the movement or from fear of him, Crowley didn’t know. He pulled Aziraphale close and cradled his head to him, one hand in the back of his blonde curls. Aziraphale gazed up at him, his expression heartbroken and disbelieving, as he tried to gasp for breath.

“Angel!” Crowley began, finally able to use his voice again. “Angel, I–I didn’t mean to– it–it wasn’t me, I didn’t–… oh, fuck.” His free hand fumbled aimlessly around the wound in Aziraphale’s chest, as if trying to close it up. Golden blood quickly coated his palm and smeared messily across Aziraphale’s waistcoat, but worse was the infernal glow that smouldered at the edges of the wound, slowly infecting its way into the angel’s being. Deep down, Crowley knew that the damage was already done. God, how could he have done this?

“I’m sorry,” he gasped at Aziraphale. “I’m so sorry. It–it wasn’t me!” He didn’t know how else to explain it. “Hell, they– I– … I’m so sorry, angel.”

Slowly, a flush of understanding dawned in Aziraphale’s eyes, and the horror faded, but then they quickly scrunched closed, his face twisting as another spasm of pain convulsed through him. Crowley could only hold him close until it had passed.

Aziraphale coughed weakly and his eyes opened again. “It–it’s alright,” he stuttered, and then reached a trembling hand up to caress the side of Crowley’s face. Crowley’s heart flipped as the angel’s fingertips brushed lightly against his cheek. “Crowley…” Aziraphale murmured. His voice was already growing distant, the light in his eyes beginning to dim.

“No, sshsssh, don’t… don’t try to talk,” Crowley gulped, absently stroking the angel’s forehead. He clasped Aziraphale’s hand in his and squeezed it tight. “It’s ok. It’s gonna be ok, just– just hold on, yeah?”

Would it? His heart pounding in his chest knew otherwise, and Aziraphale didn’t look fooled either.

The angel was suddenly seized with another fit of agony, and this time a few tiny shining flecks of blood appeared on his lips as he coughed and spluttered. A poorly-stifled groan left his mouth between the wheezing breaths.

Crowley cast his eyes around the room desperately as Aziraphale writhed in his arms, distractedly pressing the angel’s knuckles to his lips and rubbing his fingers with his thumb, as if that would do anything to ease his pain. There was a hole ripped in his chest, burning him up from the inside. Shitshitshit. There had to be something he could do. He could fix this. Somehow. He had to. Come on! He couldn’t lose him like this.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale’s voice drifted weakly up to him again. Crowley looked down and met his watery gaze. Despite the pain, a look of peace seemed to settle on the angel’s face. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth and his eyes, fixed on Crowley, shone with affection, even as they dimmed further.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered tenderly up at him.

“No, angel, don’t say that,” Crowley hissed back. He didn’t like how final that sounded. “H–hold on, come on, you have to stay with me.” He shifted and clutched the angel closer.

Aziraphale blinked up at him like he hadn’t even heard. Then his face darkened as if in thought, his brow creasing briefly into a frown and his concerned gaze scanning Crowley’s face, before he spoke again.

“I forgive you.”

His voice, though shaky, was earnest and meaningful, full of empathy. A single tear overflowed from his eyes and slid down his still-smiling cheek.

Crowley could only shake his head, mouthing wordless no’s at the angel. He faintly felt matching tears streaming down his own face. Damn him. Dying in his arms, and he was still the one trying to offer comfort. Blessed, perceptive bastard. He knows I’ll always blame myself for this.

Even as Aziraphale’s eyes remained fixed on him, Crowley could see the focus in them wavering, dwindling away. The interval between each gasped breath the angel tried to draw in was growing longer. A precious few seconds seemed to pass like an entire lifetime, and then the gasps stopped altogether, and the light inside him finally faded away into nothing. Aziraphale went still.

“No, please,” Crowley begged. “Stay with me, angel.” Aziraphale didn’t respond.

“Come on! Aziraphale!” Crowley yelled, and shook him angrily, panting with the desperation for a response. Aziraphale’s body lolled limply. Crowley stared at the angel’s sightless eyes and something within him seemed to collapse, the anger fleeing as a wave of grief came crashing, tearing through him.

“Don’t go,” he whimpered, clasping at the side of Aziraphale’s face. His voice shook and he felt his lower lip begin to tremble uncontrollably. “Please don’t go.”

It’s too late. Crowley’s face screwed up with pain as the thought broke upon him, and he found himself crumpling, pressing his forehead close to the angel’s as choked sobs began to wrack his body. “Don’t leave me,” he snivelled quietly into him. No.

“Please!” He suddenly jolted upright and screamed up at the sky in anguish. “Don’t–…” He choked again, staring at the ceiling. Then he looked back down at Aziraphale’s body, slumped loosely in his arms, and his voice became terribly small, almost child-like. “Please don’t take him from me.”

Whatever reply he had been hoping for, none came. The bookshop was almost eerily silent around him, no sound but his own breaths echoing throughout the now empty and cold-seeming space. No one was listening to his calls, as ever. He was abandoned, cast out. There was only one person who had ever truly cared for him, and now… They’d made him kill the only person he’d ever… ever…

His eyes ran compulsively up and down the angel’s body and face again. He felt himself trembling and starting to hyperventilate, and a grief like something inside him was shattering, as he finally collapsed into Aziraphale, burying his face in his chest, and howled. He clutched brokenly at him, rocking himself through the pain, and squeezing so tight it was like he was trying to merge the angel into his own being. Wrenching, wretched sobs forced their way out of him, muffled by the angel’s breast, his whole body convulsing with the strain, and along with the cries came whimpered fragments of words; pleases and no’s and angels that tumbled feebly out of him. He had no other words left to say. He just wept – pressing his body against Aziraphale’s, with his hands gripping him close and his face burrowed into the side of his neck – until he could cry no more. And then he stayed that way for a long time.

◥|⧗|◤

Some weeks later, a dove managed to find its way into the bookshop – probably through an open window left forgotten – and flitted about in the upstairs rafters.

The fluttering of wings was enough to stir Crowley from his stupor. His closed eyelids slid sluggishly open, revealing serpentine irises dull with pain. He lay, unmoving, for several minutes on top of Aziraphale’s body. In his mind, he was trying to muster up something to think, but the grief was so crushing that it was as though all conscious thought had just been bled out of him into the dirt. He was nothing but pain.

Eventually, he slowly lifted his head and looked once more at Aziraphale’s face. In the time they’d lain there, a fine layer of dust had settled across the room, coating the angel’s body as well as his own. Aziraphale’s glazed eyes were shrouded underneath its grey film, staring up at the ceiling. It hurt to see.

It was just the husk, Crowley told himself. Only his Earthly corporation. Everything that had been his angel was long gone.

It still hurt.

Achingly, Crowley peeled himself off of Aziraphale and lurched to his knees. Looking down, he noticed the smears of golden blood – now dried to peeling flakes – all across his necktie, jacket and sleeves, mirroring the angel’s chest. His hands itched with it too. There wouldn’t be enough water in the world to wipe the feeling away.

He still had some holy water somewhere.

The thought registered suddenly, without prompting, and without emotion. Oh. Yeah. His ‘exit solution’. A way out… and maybe a way back to him.

Crowley considered that. It could be that there was no life after death for their kind, only emptiness and nothingness, but he realised that he didn’t much care either way anymore. He had a penance to pay. And he was ready to join Aziraphale, in whatever lay beyond. He nodded to himself. Yes. He’d made him wait long enough already.

Still feeling empty inside, he bent down close over Aziraphale.

“I’m coming, angel,” he whispered to him, his voice hoarse. “Wherever you are… I’m coming to you.”

He placed one final, soft-lipped, lingering kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead. He paused against him for one final moment, eyes closed, taking shaky but even breaths. Then he straightened, and rose, and then turned and headed off, in search of a tartan thermos.

◥|⧗|◤

Need a happy ending? No prob, check out the bonus one here [tumblr link]. 💙

#my fanfiction #good omens #major character death #suicide tw #whump #aziraphale!whump #crowley!whump #angst #dark omens #long post

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shoyomeow · 4 years

Text

BLUE HOUR

route masterlist can be found here

In all honesty, there was absolutely no part of Tadashi Yamaguchi that could honestly say ‘Ah, I saw this coming.’

He skimmed over the contents of the letter again, a faint smell of vanilla wafting into his nose. He couldn't help but crack a smile at that because he was more than aware of your preference of using scented papers for important things instead of just ‘plain old boring papers’

There was a massive part of him that wondered if this was all a humongous joke or prank at his expense, after all old insecurities die hard.

As he mulled over his own plaguing thoughts, his gaze went back to the letter that he had found, the first ever confessional that was addressed to him.

“Oh hey there Yamaguchi ,

This seems so sudden and we barely know each other but, It seem it’s time for me to get this out.

I like you.

See? Sudden, I know. There’s so much to talk about so let me say, ever since you were able to answer that question that’s been trying to be answered by pretty much the entire class, I couldn't get you out of my mind. There were plenty of things I haven’t noticed about you just like how your eyes sparkle with your smile or that you crack your fingers when you’re nervous and after your hair became longer you started pulling it instead of cracking your fingers or the fact that you actually don’t like your freckles (how could you not? They are so fucking adorable)

We’ve exchanged plenty of sentences and it makes me happy. Thank you for that one time we cheated on the test together haha we were so chaotic. School seems so stressful but I felt okay once we started to talk each morning.

I felt like we’ve gone through so much. Highs and lows, just a big mess. You added a lot of spice to my life and I’m thankful for that. I know you may not like me back. I mean, you know me quite well and it’s your decision.

I’m not really the type to fall in love but it’s pretty much just you who I want. I’ll be finding more ways to talk to you, Yamagucci (hehe, see what I did there?)!

More than words,

Your seatmate, Y/n L/n”

You liked him.

Up until now he was pretty fucking convinced that the one you liked was his incredibly charming and handsome best friend. And while he knew you were not the type of person to do that, he was under the impression that the only reason you ever bothered to talk to him was because you wanted him to introduce you to Tsukishima.

You liked him, Tadashi Yamaguchi and, at this very moment, even as his back ached due to sitting on his desk for so long, he couldn’t help but let out an almost silent shriek of excitement.

The day he met you was painfully normal.

It was in his first year of high school when he was still struggling about the fact that he wasn’t as good as his other teammates and he was just so damn exhausted about being a burden.

Tsukishima had decided to head home slightly earlier, leaving Yamaguchi with his own plaguing insecurities as he walked home alone for the first time since elementary school and that was exactly when he saw you. Clad in simple khaki pants and a black hoodie, you were sitting on one of the swings in the park as you ate ice cream and belted out to whatever song it was that you were listening to through the thin wires of your earphones.

God you were such a horrible singer.

But seeing you not care about anyone else being there and singing (more like butchering) a song that he had never heard before, Tadashi couldn’t help but be completely and utterly enamored. Even as the ice cream dribbled down your hands prompting you to lick it off, with your hair in a mess and your posture hunched; you were possibly the most beautiful person he had come across in his life.

Finding out that you went to the same school came as him was a pleasant surprise.

You had been on his mind for almost a week before he noticed that you studied in his school. He saw you standing at the gates on the day practice ended early, maybe you were waiting for a family member to pick you up or maybe you were simply not looking forward to go home yet but you had stood at the entrance for around fifteen minutes and Yamaguchi had simply watched you from the bicycle stand, not having enough courage to actually pass you by.

When he thought about that day now, he couldn’t help but feel like he was some sort of a creep back then to have done that.

It became somewhat of a routine for him after that to intentionally pass by your class to catch a glimpse of you, seeing the pictures that you posted on social media (Tsukishima got irritated at him and used his phone to follow you. The relief he felt when he saw that you accepted his follow request is immeasurable) and simply fawning over you.

To this day he doesn’t know when his crush on you turned into something more.

A little more than like but less than love.

For the majority of his third year, after you became classmates, he had been under the impression that you liked his best friend.

Which was understandable considering how smart and handsome Kei Tsukishima was. That combined with the fact he had matured as a human being in the past two years (not much) made him the perfect person to fall in love with. Even though he knew that, the pain of losing someone who was never yours to begin with to your best friend led to a perpetual state of numbed heartbreak.

His finger hovered over the send button as he gave his text a onceover

“(your name), if it's not too much of a bother, may we meet? I would like to have a word with you regarding something that has recently come to my attention. If possible, can we meet in front of the university fountain in around ten minutes?

Warm regards,

Tadashi Yamaguchi.”

What in the ever loving fuck was wrong with him?

This message was way too formal to be considered a text to a classmate, let alone a response to a confession. He hurried to use the backspace button only to realise that he had already sent it.

And curse you for being on your phone so frequently because even before he could unsend it, you had already read it.

Embarrassment flooded him as he read his own text once again.

Tsukki would never let this go.

After ten minutes of mental prepping, tying and untying and then tying again of his long hair, Yamaguchi was finally ready (kind of) to confront and confess to the person he adored so much.

“Yamaguchi-kun,” you approached him with a bright smile on your face and god, seeing you just made him remember why he liked you so much in the first place. Much like the first time he had met you, you were clad in khaki pants (possibly the same ones you wore back then) and a hoodie. The only difference was that the hoodie had your university's logo etched into it and he liked you so much more than he had all those years ago, “Is everything okay? Your message was a bit concerning.”

The fact that you seemed to be genuinely worried for him just warmed him to the core and made a bright blush spread across his skin.

“(name)-san,” the green haired boy gulped as he felt the confidence he had built up fade away, “I got your letter.”

“My letter?” the look of sheer befuddlement on your face made him want to backtrack. Was he right? Was the letter not meant for him after all?

Your gaze landed on the familiar pastel purple envelope that you had so carefully decorated with a dried flower and unadulterated embarrassment flooded you, “Um, Yamaguchi-kun how exactly did you get that?”

“Uh, through my letterbox?” Yamaguchi shoved the envelope in his pocket before his hand went up to his own hair - a sign of nervousness, “I’m so sorry I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to get that. I’m sure you no longer feel the same about me and I was mistaken so I apologize for that, you might’ve accidentally written my name when you meant to write someone else’s .”

Your hand instinctively went to his own as you brought them down from his hair and effectively put a stop to his rambling, “It’s not like that.” It’s now or never bitch, you can do this shit, “The letter was meant for you, I just didn’t want you to find out like that.”

Your hand left his own as you straightened your back and did your best to look straight into his eyes, ignoring the way you could feel your cheeks heat up, “I like you Yamaguchi-kun.”

Some tiny sadistic part Yamaguchi wanted to spend more time relishing in the bright flush of your cheeks, and your own nervousness which was on par with his. But a much bigger part of him simply wanted to respond with his own confession and intertwine his hands with your own.

So, channeling all the confidence that he usually reserved for the volleyball court, Tadashi Yamaguchi tentatively took your hand in his, relishing in the way your breath hitched, “I like you too. And if it’s alright with you, I would very much like to date you.”

The fact that his voice shook as he spoke to you and the fact that he was blushing as much as you was comforting you as you smiled softly at him, “I would be more than alright with that Yamaguchi-kun.”

“If you’re comfortable with it, then can you please call me by my first name?”

The bright smile that bloomed on your face made his heart race in the best way possible, “Okay, Tadashi.”

#bbthots #yamaguchi fluff #yamaguchi x reader #hq yamaguchi #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

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