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umbral-archives · 1 year

Note

i have had the phrase "i didn't want to hurt you, darling, but you just wouldn't listen" bouncing around my head for the past 2 hours. take it and go

[I've had this in my drafts for 2 months because it doesn't fit my characterization of Murdock, considering he'd never hurt Reader- unless the reader is a kinky little shit and they discuss it extensively beforehand. I've recently had a few ideas come up, which I'll detail in 2 scenarios.]

Scenario 1 CW: Threats, Drugging (Truth Serum), Kidnapping [Crossroads!Damien is not a good man.] Scenario 2 CW: Drugging, Kidnapping Lite, Murdock being Awful (Non-sexual Edition) [Murdock lightly drugs reader and cuffs them to their bed because they reached a breaking point and refuse to 'hear him out' about his murder man machinations, which is- what any normal fuckin person would do. The stress of it.]

Your vision swims, head pounding as the world tumbles around you. Above the sound of blood rushing through your ears, the frantic pulsing of your heart, you can hear Murdock off to your right, snarling like a man possessed- promising the worst pain imaginable to the man who placed you in this predicament.

"A dog barking at the end of its chain is not a threat to me, Murdock. Hold your tongue, lest I do much worse than this." Damien's voice drifts from somewhere above you, and the threat of further torment rips a fearful hiccup from your throat.

You hear the clack of his dress shoes against the marble floor, unforgiving against your crumpled form- then the pressure of a leather shoe against the side of your head, moving your gaze to the ceiling. Blinking your tears away, you gaze blearily up at the man, who peers down at you like you are a science experiment to be dissected.

Damien sucks his teeth, languidly crouching down beside you, a mean little tilt joining his smirk when you flinch away. "I didn't want to hurt you, darling," he croons mockingly, "but you just wouldn't listen."

He glances up in Murdock's direction, that grin turning mean as he reaches forward to card his fingers through your hair and yank you closer, making you cry out in pain. "You and your mutt, dancing around each other instead of talking it out like adults- I grew tired of waiting, tired of the what-ifs and the possibilities."

Your cry of pain incenses Murdock further, and the sound of his struggling against his restraints, the bodyguards holding him down makes Damien laugh. "You would not bring your 'little fawn' into the loop and set them in line, Mutt, therefore I must gather this information myself."

He looks to you then, relaxing his grip just enough to tilt your head up so he can properly see the glaze setting in your eyes. "Besides, a little truth serum never hurt anyone."

You whine weakly, finally falling limp against the floor as a haze settles over your mind. Damien hums in satisfaction, letting your head fall to the floor with a sharp thump, triggering renewed struggling and swears from Murdock.

The businessman sighs, waving a few unoccupied guards to heft your limp body up by your shoulders and sitting you in a chair. "Securing their loyalty would have prevented this, Kilgrave- yet your foolish notions about their free will… as if they'd willingly defect to your side? With what you do?" He laughs. "That's not what normal people do, Mutt."

Murdock does not respond, though you can faintly hear the clacking of teeth- like he's trying to bite a guard, followed by a sharp impact and a low groan. You faintly feel worry for him, but that's overwhelmed by the next question Damien asks you.

"Now… how much do you know about my… business, and Murdock's involvement in it?"

You blink a few times, swallowing thickly, pupils dilating wider as the drug takes full effect. "… Just that- he does jobs for you. Some… the murders that he does on his own, sometimes you… ask him to do that."

Damien hums, "What is your intention with this information?"

"… Nothing. I don't want…" you shake your head, tears starting to gather in your eyes again, "too much risk, too dangerous… can't- I don't want to die for that…"

He smiles cruelly, tapping his chin for a moment before an idea strikes him. "What is your intention with Murdock? How do you feel about him- what he does, his obsession with you?"

Your mouth opens and closes a few times- as if you're trying to fight the serum like you don't want to answer that question. Eventually, the drug wins out over your own will, and you force out a grating "… I don't… know."

The businessman lights up, not expecting something this juicy to come from this interaction. "Oh? Whatever for? He's been so devoted to you for so very long… why wouldn't you want that?"

His words are meant to be a dig, mocking and cruel, and you flinch from their intensity. You try to look back to Murdock, but only find a guard's crotch in the way. "I want… I want him, I care- I think I love him but… he's…"

Damien only leans in further, tilting his head to the side and motioning for you to continue.

The tears in your eyes finally fall, your voice quiet as you warble brokenly. "… W-What he does is… monstrous."

With that revelation, the businessman can only laugh, clapping his hands slowly. The room falls into silence for a moment, and all you want to do is go to Murdock- but you can't even see him.

"I wanna stop-" you whisper, trying to worm your way out of the guard's grip. "Please-"

Damien tuts, biting his lip, eyes alight like a child who just found the Halloween candy stash. "Oh no, we have plenty of time for more… questions."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scenario 2 CW: Drugging, Kidnapping Lite, Murdock being Awful (Non-sexual Edition)

[He drugs Reader and cuffs them to their bed because they reached a breaking point and refuse to 'hear him out' about his murder man machinations, which is- what any normal fuckin person would do. The stress of it.] The sensation of cotton in your mouth is starting to fade, along with the numb weight in your limbs. You can hear Murdock muttering to himself- see him pacing back and forth across your bedroom floor from the corner of your eye. 'He's going to wear a hole into my floor if he keeps doing that', you think, lifting your head up weakly and coughing. Your activity makes Murdock pause, observing you silently while you start to come back to yourself. There's a second of hesitation before he moves to your side when you try to sit up, encouraging you to lean on him when your arms almost give out. "Try not to overexert yourself," he mutters, smoothing the hair from your face. "That stuff has a strong come-down. Do you want some water?" All you can manage is a soft whine, nodding weakly while reaching up to rub your face, but your hands never meet your cheeks. The decisive clank of metal hitting metal is what you get instead, startling from the sound- the force against your wrists. You finally focus on the handcuffs binding them together, linked to the bedframe at the foot of your bed by a length of chain. Chain. Handcuffs. A sobering chill races up your spine as Murdock moves away to watch you again, a dozen different emotions playing out on your face. You finally settle on incredulous anger, betrayal curling in your throat. "Murdock, what the hell?!" The Killer holds his hands up placatingly, a kind of understanding in the furrow of his brow, the grimace on his face. "... I know what this looks like, but you need to trust that didn't want to do this, Sweetheart... but you just wouldn't listen-" "Listen?!" you scoff, making a noise somewhere between a snarl and a sob, yanking the chains for emphasis. "There's no fucking conversation you could have with me right now that would save your ass- you've got me chained to my fucking bed-"

Murdock stands up, moving to the front of the bed and out of your reach. He can't have you making decisions you'll regret later. "This is a precaution, y/n. I knew you'd run off before we got a chance to talk, before you'd let me explain everything. I'm not going to hurt you-" "You're not being very convincing right now-" you rasp, tears already starting to collect as you lean away from his hands, tugging on the cuffs.

"Stop doing that, you'll hurt yourself-" he admonishes softly, reaching out to properly take your hands, relieving the pressure against your wrists. "I didn't want to do this, but you didn't leave me any other choice, sweetheart-"

You get up onto your knees, volume rising, feeling emboldened by the cocktail of drugs still flowing through your system. "There's always a choice!" Murdock's mouth snaps shut, gauging you for a beat- panting, eyes glassy, pupils blown wide in anger and fear, face flushed. Part of him thinks it's adorable, but he doesn't have time to entertain that right now. "Just give me a chance to explain, Sweetheart, and you'll see-" Something hits you- something that has been bothering you since before you found out, but you didn't want to face it, to give those thoughts a voice. A suspicion that had built up over time, and now it stares you dead in the face. Just how wrong you were, just who you should have listened to. "David was right about you," you whisper, shaking your head with a rueful laugh. "God, I'm such a fucking idiot-"

There's a flash of fear in his eyes, quickly smothered by denial. He can't entertain the idea that he's losing you. "You're not, I would never hurt you, I haven't hurt you—"

"It's not about me!" you counter, voice higher than it's ever been. "It's about all the other people you've hurt, the people you've killed!" "It's only about you! You are all I care about!" A beat passes between you, heavy breaths shared in the space separating you. Murdock searches your face for something, anything that would tell him that he's broken through at least one of your walls. You merely stare back in confused silence, eyes unable to meet his, unable to digest what he'd just admitted. "... Well, you have a twisted fucking way of showing it." The Killer closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh and stepping back, releasing your hands. "Fine." You lose your balance without him holding you up, flopping back onto the bed with a grunt and looking at him in confusion. "W-Where are you going?" He glances back at you by the door, a mixture of emotions making his expression unreadable. "You're going to sit here for a little while. When you're ready to have a civilized conversation, call me. Until then? Look back and think about all I've done for you, what we are. Maybe that'll check your attitude." With that, he steps out of the room, leaving you to your thoughts and the ticking of the clock.

#murder bastard 🗡#anon #my writing #tw kidnapping #tw drugging #tw violence #tw threats #mister mayor: crossroads edition #c!damien is fundamentally different to mayor damien #he's a wealthy man with a criminal enterprise under his belt #and he has Murdock under his thumb to do odd jobs for him in exchange for the killer to use Damien's influence to his advantage #think... John Wick but only one guy #without the assassins #though the 'odd jobs' are Murdock taking people out for Damien every so often #the other scenario is a 'what if' involving C!Murdock and C!Reader wherein Fawn doesn't ... 'adapt' very well to the information that #Murdock is the Serotonin Killer

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 1 year

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To the well meaning folks that keep telling me not to do things on my own because it’s “dangerous”…..

Shut up before you find out how dangerous I can be!!!!

Look, I get it. You think if I climb a ladder I’ll fall and break my neck, if I go to the woods a snake will bite me, if I swim I’ll drown, or whatever. You imagine the worst possibilities and it scares you to think if these things happening to someone that doesn’t have some one there ready to rescue them.

But, damn it, you don’t get it. I don’t EVER have anyone waiting to rescue me!

You have friends, families, lovers , someone of some kind to do stuff with you. You might have to wait or make arrangements, but doing things with someone can happen if you want.

I have no choice! I’ve got no one!

If things are going to get done I have to do it myself. Sometimes it’s something that urgently needs doing and sometimes it’s just something that brings happiness to my life, but either way it’s the same. My choice is only between doing it alone or not doing it at all!

Do these folks honestly expect me to wait until some hypothetical day when I have someone else to live?

I used to assume there would come a day when I had someone.

When I was little I had lots of friends and family. I could count on them, trust them, rely on them. I ALWAYS wanted them there, sharing whatever was going on, good or bad…together.

And when I grew up and everyone had drifted away or died, I assumed it was just a lull. One day I’d meet someone who would care enough to want to be there the way my loved ones had. If you stay friendly, helpful, open and always yourself people, at least a few, will want to be your friend…..

HAH! Don’t count on it!

In my experience friendly people and friends are not the same. Friends you count on and count on you. They might come to your rescue. Friendly though, well don’t count on them for more than a smile and a wave as you bleed out in the gutter.

99% of the people that I’ve asked for help or, worse, have offered it enthusiastically, have failed to come through. To be fair to them, I think they all meant it in the moment. “If you ever need help…” “I can cut that up with my chainsaw” “Let me give you a hand when you do it” It’s all so easy to say, and you get to feel good about yourself for being so caring….

But they almost never come through. I wait and they never show up. I call and they don’t come. They forget, regret offering because now they find it inconvenient, or whatever.

Now I don’t get angry. I completely understand. I’m not a priority to anyone. I’m not family and friendly isn’t friends. Going out of your way for someone you love isn’t the same as doing it for someone you find friendly but a bit weird. They care casual, not care deep. I’m the person they will help if it’s easy. I’m not the top of anyone’s mind. I’m the one you forget about, never invite to parties, don’t send cards to….I’m the afterthought. People only can stretch caring so far, and I get the scraps left over when they are done with the people that matter to them.

It’s okay. I may never understand what is “wrong” about me that keeps people liking me lightly but never loving me, but I accept it.

My parents were the last people in the world that loved me, and now Pop’s dead and Mom can’t even help herself anymore. It’s just the way it is. It was easy to hope that “one day” I’d have my own family, traditional or not I hardly cared. But when you realize you are closer to death than birth and still alone, that no one that didn’t first know you as a child had ever loved you, you can’t keep clinging to hope.

Reality means if I need or want to do a thing, I do it alone or it never gets done.

Now, I do things carefully and cautiously. I am not an idiot. I also have many years of experience doing “dangerous” things. That helps. Contrary to popular belief I’m not insanely reckless.

Actually, all this telling me NOT to do things pisses me off on several levels. It isn’t just everyone assuming I can chose to have someone help me, that I have people that care, and that I have the luxury of not doing things until I am not alone. But there is also this aspect, this nagging dismissal of my judgement and abilities. They treat me like a child or a fool, someone without any awareness of risks. I do not appreciate that AT ALL!

So yes, I know about dangers. I’m hyper aware of risks and achingly aware of the ways being alone makes life harder. I can imagine all the worst case scenarios even better than you can, and realize all the ways thins should be done to be safe.

None of that means I can curl up and do nothing!

I wish I had company or someone I could depend on. I wish I had help. I wish I lived the sort of life you assume I do. But wishes are pointless.

This is my life. I have to do what I can while I can. I have to try to keep my life livable, even when it involves risk. I also am not willing to sacrifice all the joys of my life simply because I am alone.

If I listened to these people the kitchen wall would still be a waterfall and I would have to resign myself to never swimming again for the rest if my life. I’d never clean out Ryoga’s house or the soot filled chimney. I’d never watch the beavers swim around the swamp or photograph mushrooms in the woods. My living situation would be unendurable and the pleasures in my life would shrink to the tiniest of cages.

I refuse to wait to live for someone to decide they give a damn about me. Yes, I may one day die doing something “dangerous”, but at least I will have lived until that moment!

Anyway, folks that feel so free to tell me not to climb a ladder or walk in the woods, you COULD always join me instead of lecturing!

(How the fuck would they feel if I went “OMG! You shouldn’t drive! Do you know how dangerous cars are?!? Yeah, there is no mass transit at all around here and it’s too far to walk…… but DON’T DRIVE, it’s too DANGEROUS!!!!!!” That’s about how it feels to me.)

#my day #busy #lonely #alone #socializing #peopling

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hassiegfrieddoneanythingwrong · 4 months

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Meanwhile, first time with Karna:

Having him explain that he's already unclothed to Siegfried after disarming himself (he just looks clothed with his armor on). Yes, that's his skin. Not skin-tight clothing on him. All the head pats for the embarrassed dragon slayer.

On the plus side: his lover is now draped in his fluff, especially his back as they get to work.

Georgios...ah, Georgios. He'd probably be more sentimental over passionate. At least at first. I'm reaching here given he never had a lover in life from what I know.

But in a show of deep trust between the two, I could see them exchanging swords as a act beforehand that would establish neither will hurt each other - this is mostly for Siegfried's comfort. He is bedding another dragon slayer in this scenario.

All I can say is that Georgios, out of the lot, gives the best intimate cuddles out of all his lovers. It's not anyone's fault for being worse, Georgios is just built for it: fluffy hair, good body build to engulf people in hugs, always has the right words ready for those he cares about. I even headcanon he's great at massages when he's coaxed into it.

All I can say about Kriemhild is when the mood is right, and she's not reliving her worst parts of her life, it would be like coming home for both of them. Like two puzzle pieces coming together despite the wear and tear of the world's woes. It's harder to coax affectionate words from her now, but it's still said indirectly through her touch. Deliberate, wise where his weak points are (no pun intended), and warm. Almost as though she's trying to shield him from his stresses and remind him just how much he's worth.

I apologize, for I am not a sexy smut writer and can't give you proper NSFW reciprocation headcanons.

Master's response can be anything you want them to be. In my personal case - congratulations, Siegfried, you've bedded a weak ass version of Sigurd that will let you know in great detail just how much you mean to them. In a voice similar to Shuten's as they caress his back. I'm sorry. (I wonder if anyone remembers their ability to mimic since it hasn't come up in years).

I can already see the conversation between these two dorks about to have sex for the first time. "Saber, what are you trying to do?" "I'm trying to get your clothing off, but I'm having a rather difficult time." "That's because it's my skin, and not clothing." "Wait, you can't be serious-" *realizes that he's completely serious, and that he's been walking around in Chaldea in nothing more than jewelry and a gold metal thong* There's a good chance that once in a while, Karna will bring it up just to tease the dragonslayer.

I can also definitely see Georgios as a sentimental kind of lover compared to a passionate one. He just sort of gives those kinds of vibes, if I could describe it best. 😅 I'm also not sure if he had a lover or partner in life or in the legends about him, but since he's a saint, I'm going to take an educated guess and safely say no. But hey, if I'm wrong, then that's on me. And yeah, he does have some good fluff volume for his hair, just look at his Riyo version:

If we the viewers just saw him from behind, I'd probably mistake him for Cousin It. Or a really big Kuriboh.

And yeah, that sounds about right (in a good way, I mean) for how Siegfried and Kriemhild would be like for their love life. Sort of piggy backing on this, I can imagine them as the only couple in Chaldea who doesn't have sex much often compared to the other couples (have you seen how she reacts to him simply snuggling her?), but when they do it's just as loving and passionate. And if I ever focus long and hard enough, I could try to write an NSFW fic on them, since there's oddly not a whole lot of that for them.

Master is more of a wild card, but they still hold so much love (almost like that car sale meme *puts hand on top of their head* this dumbass can fit so much love for a particular dragonslayer). My case is similar, with an added "I may not articulate it well enough but I love you so fucking much".

Siegfried is very lucky to have all of them (despite that E rank luck).

#ask #I feel like I've went through an event or two where the Rits'/Guda's use the voice mimic trick #or watched the cutscenes on YT #I just don't know *which* ones

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readsrealm · 2 years

Conversation

incorrect quotes part 2

Luffy: You're 'the second worst thing to ever happen to those orphans', what does that mean?

Usopp: It means i was second worst thing to happen to those orphans.

Luffy: but what’s the first worst thing?

*Awkward pause*

Usopp: Luffy, they...they weren’t always orphans.

Luffy:

Xxxx

Usopp, trying to cheer the group up: Things could be worse, you know!

Sanji: How?

Usopp: How what?

Sanji: How could they be worse?

Usopp: They couldn’t, I lied.

Sanji:

Xxxxxx

Usopp: *Accidentally hits Sanji in the face*

Usopp: *Trying to decide between saying 'I’m fucking sorry' and 'Are you okay'*

Usopp: ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?!

Sanji: What’s wrong with you?!

Xxxxxx

Usopp, to Sanji: My life is in the hands of an idiot!

Sanji, motioning to themself and Zoro: No no no no no, TWO idiots!

Xxxxxx

Usopp: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Sanji: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Usopp: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Zoro: edible

Xxxxxxx

Usopp: HELP! I TOLD SANJI I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!

Zoro, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

Xxxxxxx

Store Worker: Would a Mx. Usopp please come to the front desk?

Usopp, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker: points to Sanji and Zoro

Store Worker: I believe they belong to you?

Sanji and Zoro, simultaneously: We got lost :(

Usopp: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

Xxxxxxx

Sanji: Hah! 69! You know what that means?

Usopp: What?

Zoro: That you're a child.

Luffy: HOW'D YOU GUESS MY IQ!?

Xxxxxx

Luffy, setting down a card: Ace of spades

Sanji, pulling out an Uno card: +4

Zoro, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you

Usopp, trembling: What are we playing

Xxxxxxx

Usopp: *Trying to fill out legal paperwork stuff* Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB?

Zoro: Bold of you to assume I was born at all.

Sanji: I personally was created in a lab.

Luffy: I just straight up spawned lol.

Xxxxxxxx

Zoro: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Usopp: 'Prettiest Smile'

Sanji: 'Nicest Personality'

Luffy: 'Most likely to start a bar fight'

Nami: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Xxxxxx

Usopp: Bye Sanji! Bye Zoro! Bye Luffy! Bye Nami! Bye Sanji!

Zoro: You said ‘bye Sanji’ twice.

Usopp: I like Sanji.

Luffy: What’s something you guys are better than Usopp at?

Sanji: Cooking.

Luffy: Fighting.

Nami: Emotional vulnerability.

XXXXXX

Luffy: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life

Usopp : Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years!

Nami: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this!

Sanji: I knew I lost that potential somewhere!

Zoro: My moral code, is that you?

Luffy:

Luffy: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk Dadan left me but do you guys need a hug?

XXXXXXX

Usopp : bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

XXXXXX

Usopp , threatening the others with a paintball gun: Listen... Life comes at us fast. We don't know what life is gonna give us... And today, it's gonna give you... a paintball!

XXXXXX

Usopp : I’d like to offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals.

XXXXXX

Franky : People are always asking me if I'm a morning person or a night person.

Franky : And I'm just like, 'Buddy! I'm barely even a PERSON!'

XXXXXX

Usopp : Not trying to brag or anything, but I can wake up without an alarm clock now simply due to my crippling and overwhelming anxiety, so...

XXXXXX

Shapeshifter: *transforms to look like Usopp *

Usopp : Okay, are you like BLIND? You look nothing like me. First off, I'm way taller. Secondly, I DO NOT look so sleep deprived and lastly, if you could drag comb through that hair you're like a 7 on a good day and I've been told I'm a constant 10.

XXXXXX

Zoro : I’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal' like, you don’t know that. Neither do I. I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude.

XXXXXXXX

Usopp : So apparently the 'bad vibes' I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress

XXXXXXXX

Usopp : Physically, yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? Imagine the toll.

XXXXXXXX

*Sanji recording whilst Usopp and Luffy are arguing*

Usopp : HOLD UP, HOLD UP, HOLD UP, HOLD UP!! HER SISTER WAS A WITCH, RIGHT? AND WHAT WAS HER SISTER? A PRINCESS! THE WICKED WITCH OF THE EAST, BRO!

Sanji: *wheezes like a tea kettle*

Luffy, pulling out a knife: I'm gonna stab them.

Usopp : YOU'RE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND YOU'RE GONNA TELL ME THAT I'M WRONG? AM I WRONG?

Luffy: It's my favorite movi-

Usopp : SHE WORE A CROWN AND SHE CAME DOWN IN A BUBBLE, LUFFY!

Luffy: I'm not fighting with you, I'm not fighting with y-

Usopp : GROW UP, BRO. GROW UP!

XXXXXX

Nami: Just be yourself. Say something nice.

Usopp : Which one? I can't do both.

XXXXXXXX

Chooper: *sighs* I have no friends...

The strawhats:

The strawhats: *coughs* B****, what am I? A roach?!

XXXXXXXXX

Usopp : STOP!

*Everyone stops*

Usopp : wAiT a MiNuTe-

XXXXXXXX

Luffy: You know what’s funny about Usopp ? They’re my best friend, and anyone who’d hurt them is someone I’d murder, probably.

XXXXXXXXX

Sanji: Usopp ... you've been cuddling with me for over and hour now.

Usopp : *muffled* mm hmmm :)

Sanji: F***. I should be annoyed but you're adorable.

XXXXXXXXX

Sanji: How is the most beautiful person in the world?

Nami: *blushing* I—

Zoro, butting into the conversation: Usopp is perfect, thanks for asking.

XXXXXXX

Luffy: Hey.

Nami: Hey?

Luffy: I can't sleep. :/

Nami: I can. Goodnight.

XXXXXXXX

Brook: Why don't humans have a specific noise that means "there are bees here, let's leave immediately." Why are elephants more advanced than us.

Robin: We do have a specific noise for it. It sounds like this:

Robin: "There are bees here, let's leave immediately."

XXXXXXXX

Brook: When I was young, I left a trail of broken hearts like a rockstar. I'm not proud of it.

Jinbei: You're kind of proud of it. You work it into a lot of conversations.

XXXXXXXXX

Brook: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.

Franky: You and me!

Brook: *tearing up* Ok.

XXXXXXXX

Murderer: Any last words?

Robin: Do you think I'm cute? Be honest.

XXXXXXXX

Franky: If you spell skeletons backwards, it still spells skeletons.

Brook, deadpan: Wow, I can't wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks

XXXXXXXXXXX

Robin: Listen, we’re done, we’re over! Okay?

Franky: Whatever b****, you ain’t never gonna find no one like me.

Robin: Yeah, that's the point s***head!

XXXXXXXX

Franky: You look mentally ill.

Brook: I am. Let’s go.

XXXXXXXX

Luffy: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t “fit in” and I don’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.

XXXXXXXX

Usopp, looking at their watch: It has been 2 hours and sixteen minutes since I’ve been insulted.

Usopp: It’s been about 5 seconds since I’ve been a**aulted, but let’s not talk about that.

XXXXXXXXX

Usopp: How would you like your hair cut?

Zoro: Preferably with scissors, but a sword could be bada**.

#usopp #monkey d. luffy #nico robin #tony tony chopper #ronoroa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #nami #brook #franky #jinbe

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fleursdemeduse · 3 years

Text

Remembrance AU: Day and Night

I only have 5 more planned parts before the "main story" is completed.

Warnings: Mention of Death ; Unconsciousness ; Unrequited[?] Love

Words: 3.5k

Sometimes, it was amazing to you how lucky you had been.

You remembered how warm the air had been when you had found the flower field. The breeze drug the long grass into graceful waves and the different wildflowers swayed gently. Trees framed the field except for the large weeping cherry tree that sat upon a small hill. No other flowers grew on the hill, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. It was so quiet there, so serene. The air tasted sweet. It was like a scene from a storybook.

You had immediately hunted down Techno and took him away from his farming to see the spot. Back then, you hadn’t known each other for long, but you had felt so close to him already. It was like you had already known each other for all of the lifetimes he had talked about.

“Isn’t it gorgeous, Tech?” He grunted out a quiet “yeah” and you grinned up at him. Back then, during the war, he always wore his mask. The pig skull strapped tightly to his face hid his features, including his eyes, but you didn’t care. His voice usually had enough inflection for you to know his expression. You giggled as you sprinted forward, towards the giant tree in the middle. “Follow me! I wanna watch the clouds.”

He had relented. Your smile could have rivaled the beauty of the field in that moment, and he felt himself falling for you even deeper. He’d never tell you, though. Despite how often you could respawn, he wouldn’t let himself be with someone he could lose. And he very much could lose you. You could just not come back one of these times, you could hate him for the things he’s done, you could see how Wilbur looked at you and turn that damning smile onto him. He wouldn’t prevent you from being happy.

You sat with your back against the bark of the large tree, some of the light petals shaking loose and drifting slowly down around you. He would remember this moment forever.

He had laid next to you, his hair a brighter pink than the flowers above the two of you and spread in a halo around his head.

“What’s gonna happen when this is all over?” He thought it over, watching the clouds mimic the flowers in their sluggishness.

“We move on.” You nodded, stomach flipping at the way he said “we” and not “I”. That had to have been progress in your friendship, no?

You sat there quietly, contemplative, while he took in the coolness of the shade compared to how hot the area in the trees seemed to be. This was a spot Phil would have loved had he been around. He could imagine a small cottage nearby and the overgrown field turned into a garden. The voices agreed with this thought. There would be cakes and bonfires on summer nights. He’d bring you with him to visit. Would you like Phil? You two were similar in a lot of ways. Even in past lives, Phil had a fatherly streak for himself, Tommy and Wilbur. Sometimes Tubbo and Ranboo were included in that equation. When would the teen show up? This couldn’t have been a timeline without him. Everyone else was here and the hybrid knew you’d love the kid just like you did the other two. He hadn’t interacted with him much in other lives, but the kid was nice enough. Maybe you’d-

"I can braid your hair for you, if you want."

Your voice had broken through the voices that had idly whispered in his ears. He considered it for a moment, chat now becoming louder.

YES!!

Please don’t let them.

What kind of braid do they want to do?

Are they going to play with it too?

Don’t turn your back on them.

The mask would have to come off.

Why are they so nice to us?

Do it.

What if they did a french braid? That’d look nice.

Their hands look soft.

What if they pull our hair?

Let them do it. They’ll be so proud of themselves.

Technoblade sighed and moved his head to your lap. “I’m not moving any more. You can do what you wish. I’m gonna nap.”

Your smile was electric and he pressed his lips together to fight the urge to groan at the sight. He almost lost that fight when your fingers carded through his hair.

“Can I take off your mask?”

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Work around it.”

You pressed your lips together. “Can I unbuckle it, at least? I don’t want to pull.”

“Do what you want.” He closed his eyes, feeling you mess with the strap before carefully laying it over the side of the skull, careful to not dislodge it. The extra effort you took to make him comfortable made his heart flutter in his chest a bit more than it should have. Did you do this with anyone else in their tiny rebellion? He had noticed Tommy had been walking around with a small braid framing his face lately and he had seen Wilbur with one pinned back in his hair when he removed his beanie a while back. Were they your doing? It was his turn, then.

He craved your touch more than he should have. It was much softer than his own and the contrast wasn’t something he experienced often. He enjoyed the fleeting touches you experimented with on him as you tested his boundaries. The random hugs you gave him when you were happy and forgot yourself for a moment. The times when you’d unconsciously touch his arm while you two talked. The friendly bumps when you two walked. He was happy to be your friend.

“Have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?”

He took a moment to think the question over.

“Well, I figure mine would have been about the same. I’ve spent plenty of them without you before, so it’d have just been another to add on.” Your hands paused in his hair and the hybrid opened an eye to watch your lips tilted into a frown. He had never liked that expression on you.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“I think having you in mine now is pretty nice.” The sentence left his lips before he could stop it. It was too sentimental for him. He wasn’t one to speak before thinking, but the way you lit up at his outburst made him happy he had too.

“I think having you in mine is pretty nice too, Tech.” Your nails ran lightly over his temple as you pulled hair back into the mess you were currently trying to tame it into.

“I’m not a dog, [y/n].”

“I never said you were.”

“Then stop scratchin’ me like one.” You laughed and he huffed proudly at the sound. “I do like spendin’ time with you, though.”

He heard you hum quietly, feeling the way his hair tugged as your fingers worked.

“You make everything quiet. Sometimes, I can see the past so clearly in my mind… it almost feels like it’s real and happenin’ again. But it isn’t. Only now is real. And when I’m with you, even the voices will occasionally take a break.” He watched the way your lips fell to a soft “o” shape. He sighed, feeling like if he didn’t go on, you’d say something contrary to him. He didn’t spill his guts like this. Not literally or metaphorically. But something about you made him want to go on and on. “You have this special power over everyone. It’s amazin’. I didn’t even know what to think when we met. I was ready to move on and never see you again, but you kept persisting. You just trusted this violent stranger who can’t handle social situations, and I’m here tryin’ to figure out what I’m supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind.”

Your laughter felt like you punched him in the gut and he turned his head to look up at you. Your smile didn’t look mocking, and when your amusement faded, the curve of your lips remained untaunting.

“You just trust me back, Tech. I don’t have any special powers aside from not being able to stay dead.” He felt your hand grip his arm and squeeze lightly. “I’m not going anywhere either. You’re right. I’m relentless. You’re not gonna get rid of me unless you tell me you want me gone.”

His heart felt like it was in his throat.

“And honestly?” His breath caught for a moment at the look in your eyes as you gazed down at him. He felt so naked under it, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. “I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met.”

“Bold of you to say, considerin’ I’m wearin’ a mask.” He mumbled, heartbeat suddenly picking up and palpitating as if he were in battle. It felt like you really could see him, all of him, despite the covering. He didn’t feel like he had, or even could, hide anything from you. Every scar, every expression, every thought. You had taken his admittance of the voices in stride, even talked to them directly sometimes. You weren’t afraid to touch him, to be soft with him. If he could spend the rest of this timeline with you, even if this was the only one you were in, he’d feel full.

Your smile wavered when you watched Techno reach up as if to remove his mask.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you some of the worst parts of me.” He sat up, moving the item to his lap, before looking back at you. Seeing you unfiltered by the mask was a whole new experience. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. His heart began skipping every other beat. What did you think of his face? Tommy, Tubbo and Wilbur had seen it plenty of times, remembered it in other lifetimes when he did have a humanoid face, but this was your first time.

The grin that pulled your lips bigger slightly alleviated his worries, though. And you reached forward, touching his face like you had Tommy’s a hundred times while whispering a quiet “Wow” he didn’t know if he should have been flattered by. He let you trace your fingers over the scar over his nose and brush your thumb over his lower lip before you pulled his mouth open. You examined his slightly-sharper teeth with a fascination he didn’t know felt more clinical or childlike. Your expression turned oddly serious.

“I was wrong.” His veins suddenly felt like ice as you pulled your hand away. “You’re no person, Tech. You’re a god and I am lucky to be in your presence.”

The ice melted just as quickly as it had formed and his cheeks suddenly felt like they were aflame. He had been called that hundreds of times, but the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like reverence. He swallowed and looked away. You were wrong about having no power over him as well. You shouldn’t have been able to play with his emotions as easily as you did. “You’re cruel, [y/n].”

He smirked at the sound of your scoff as you feigned indignation before turning back to you. He watched your eyes widen before you reached for his face once more. He let you.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

He prayed you thought his was as brilliant as yours.

Being close to others was a good thing, wasn’t it? Even if you didn’t share any memories with them, you’d still be there for them, no matter what.

Tommy had crawled into your bed once more while you slept. He had done so plenty of times during the revolution until L’Manburg had been won back. Now, he had his own house he could sleep comfortably in. But he had a key to your house. So as long as he locked the front door whenever he snuck in, when the mattress dipped at his weight, you would always peel open an eye before pulling the covers up for him to crawl under. You would never be upset with him about breaking in just to cuddle and eventually fall asleep. You would never mention it after the fact either. He didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of the others and face the taunts from not being able to sleep properly when he was alone. He just needed comfort sometimes. The blond was, after all, still a child just swept up in all of this.

You curled around him, his gangly limbs tucked into his chest awkwardly as you tried to give him the most paternal embrace possible. You didn’t press him for details like you used to, just tucked the golden braid you had weaved into his shaggy hair behind his ear and smile sleepily at him in hopes he would smile back.

He wouldn’t, but you never expected him to.

“Hey Toms?” He hummed in response, looking at the part of the pillow tucked under your throat. “Did I ever tell you the story about how the moon did the sun’s work every night because he loved her so much?”

“No.” His voice cracked, but you ignored it, choosing instead to roll onto your back to look at the stars through your skylight. You felt him do the same.

“Well, when the sun found the moon, it had just been happenstance. He was drinking tea under the large cherry tree in his garden and she was so tired. She had not stopped working. Day was the only thing anyone knew. Her light and warmth were so abundant, she was barely hanging on from the exhaustion it exerted on her. And so she collapsed in his garden, unconscious. He brought her into the shade of his tree and the world darkened. Plants and people died in the absence of light more than they had before. However, when she woke up and when they locked eyes, the world finally felt like it was spinning. He had been so kind to her. How could she not love him? But she kept it from him. She visited everyday and they would share tea and talk for hours. She sat just outside of the tree’s shade despite how tired it made her.”

You watched Tommy turn his head to watch you speak from the corner of your eye.

“Eventually he asked her “Why do you come everyday when you look so tired? Why don’t you rest?”. “Because I cannot. I must cast light onto my children and help them grow.” She replied. “Why do you never leave the shade of your tree?” He laughed at her question. “Because I cannot. The light is too bright and I will disappear.” She took his answer and they moved on.”

The blond listened to the voices you used for each character, slowly closing his eyes.

“One day, when she collapsed again, she was still conscious when the moon stepped out of his shade once more to rescue her. The world lightened once more, but only dimly. He reflected her warmth onto everything. It was a soft light and the people marveled at his beauty. He decided then he would take on half of her work when they had tea because he too loved her, but kept it to himself. And from then on, whenever she would visit for tea, he would sit outside of the comfort of his cherry tree, and she would perch herself under it and let him show his brightness to the world. And they were happy.”

You looked back at him, trying to not giggle at how sleepy he looked.

“Tha’s a lame story.” He quietly slurred and you shrugged your shoulders a little, rolling back over to face him fully.

“I think Phil would disagree.”

“Phil?”

“Yep. That’s his favorite story.” He pouted a little and your chest warmed at how childlike he looked.

“Then I think…” His voice was becoming softer, trailing off. “I think it’ll be mine too.”

You listened to his breathing soften before evening out completely and you’d fall back asleep.

People trusted you so much and you didn’t know what you did to deserve it.

The pendent was cold in your hands.

A silver heron stared up at you with a lone emerald eye and you prayed it wasn’t made from the same friendship emerald that Technoblade had gifted him with.

“I got that from a friend a long time ago. His child, Love, actually had it for a while when his mother passed, but when his kid suffered the same fate, Psarocolius gave it to me. Said it was bad luck or something.” You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Wow, Phil. What an amazing gift.” Your sarcasm was palatable. He bopped the top of your head with a gentle chop of his hand.

“Shut. It’s a way to reach out to Kristin.” You had been complaining to him about how left out you felt whenever everyone else was talking about their previous lives, hoping the older man would have some good advice for you. “That’s why Psar’s wife and kid died. There was no other way.”

“So your wife just killed them off? How cold.” He shook his head.

“Nah, mate. They asked her to. She still feels awful about it.” You paused for a moment.

“But isn’t that technically your job now?” You watched the way his lips curled into a smile.

“I do it so I can see her more often. It gets tiring doing everything, you know.” You definitely knew. “But talk to her about it. See what the deal is.”

You snickered at the thought.

“It can’t be that easy.”

“It is.”

Now, in the heat of her presence, the pendent was even colder.

“Hey, [y/n]. I was wondering when you were going to come around.” You swallowed, a little overwhelmed.

“You were expecting me?”

“Well, not exactly. But you were probably going to want to talk to me eventually.” She arched a manicured eyebrow at you. Was every god this beautiful? “Now, why did-”

“Why don’t I have any past lives?” You watched how her eyes widened for a moment, stunned, before her pink lips parted as she laughed. It was warm, motherly enough to match Philza’s naturally fatherly one, and so lovely to listen to. She rested a hand on your cheek when it slowly quieted and you were faced with looking into her eyes that looked like they held every answer in the universe. You felt a little dumb for asking it straight out and floundered to recover. To explain yourself. “I don’t have any to remember. I want to have them, to share memories with everyone else.”

There was a slow build at the front of your brain.

“Well, who’s to say you don’t?”

The pressure continued growing. Your head ached in the worst way possible.

“Minds are weird. Sometimes you just shove things down and make yourself forget.”

You suddenly thought of a servant who tended to a woman you didn’t know. Images of things that had happened or might have flickered through your mind. Possibilities playing in loops. You remembered watching heroes save the city and the zombie apocalypse starting countless times. Your skull felt like it was splitting.

“All you need is a nudge in the right direction, and memories will just come back.”

There was laughter with Drista and Kristin herself. Stories on a computer screen. Childish fights echoing over a Discord call while you watched on in silence. First love, second love, third. Faces that weren’t yours smiling wide back at you. Mellohi playing softly in the background as hands you had seen countless times before cooked dinner.

“It hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much? I just want it to stop.” Kristin pet your hair with her other hand. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes and she shushed you.

You saw different versions of Techno’s sweet smiles. You felt the varied intensities of Wilbur’s stares, warm and cold. You savoured the several kinds of laughs Tommy shared with everyone around him. Would you ever experience any of them again? You would. You had to. Techno was your best friend, Tommy your little brother, Ghostbur your companion. You could not abandon them when you promised to always come back.

Your vision blurred black around the edges as stars danced across your eyes. You suddenly felt so very weak.

The goddess of life and death’s voice was muffled in your ears as your hearing slowly faded. The heron necklace slipped from your grip, but the sound of it hitting the ground didn’t reach you. Neither did the crash of your fall. Her words echoed around you as you lost consciousness.

“You’ll be okay.”

It was only a matter of time before you found out why.

#RemembranceAU #dsmp au #dream smp au #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #technoblade x reader #tommyinnit x reader #platonic!tommyinnit x reader #philza x mumza #mcyt x reader #unrequited feelings #tw: death #tw: unconsciousness

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harrypotter-imaginess · 3 years

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Part 1 Here!

Commission Info for letters from your favorite comfort character here!

A/N: If you want to be added to the tag list for this, The draco muggle series, or the Fred and George Weasley best friends Series let me know!

- “What’s the hurry boss? Where are you heading off to?” One of your co -workers asks as you rush around the store double checking all the locks on the entrances and giving your plants one final spritz

- “Hot date?” The other asks with a suggestive raised eyebrow

- “Yes.” You say simply,

- They both sputter at that

- “What? Seriously?!”

- “With who??” The other shrieks

- And right on cue there’s a light tap on the door

- Cue your employees squealing again

- “Him?!?”

- “The hottie with a dye job?”

- George offers you a smile and a wave and you smile back

- “Ainsley I trust you can lock up?” You ask, pushing the key into their hand

- They only nod

- Henry’s looking at you with his his mouth open as he watches you leave, George and you smiling at each other like a couple of lovestruck fools

- “I told you he had a crush on them” Ainsley says with a grin and Henry has a blush blooming on his cheeks as he pulls a five pound note from his wallet

- “I mean I did too- I just didn’t think he would work up the nerve to actually ask them out.”

- A moment of silence fills the air

- “I bet Ten pounds they find out if that’s their natural hair color tonight” Ainsley says with a grin, and Henry looks at her with a slightly mortified expression

- I mean, the implication of how you would find that out is just-

- “Yeah alright, our boss is a prude there’s no way” he says shaking Ainsley’s hand.

- So when George meant dinner- he meant dinner

- You’re at the tower restaurant in downtown London

- It’s on the fiftieth floor at a skyscraper at the heart of London.

- He reserved a table specifically next to a window with a view of the canal and the London eye

- It’s quite spectacular

- “Have you been here before?” He asks

- You’re glad you dressed a little nicer than you were originally thinking

- “A few times, once for a birthday and once-“

- You’re interrupted by your server bringing a bottle of champagne

- George gets a puzzled expression, he hasn’t even ordered yet

- “Compliments of the Owner, we’re still grateful you were able to fulfill that order last minute when our other florist backed out.”

- “Not a problem Charles, it was my pleasure”

- When he’s gone George flashes you a smile

- “I feel like everyone knows you” he says, lifting up a champagne flute as you toast.

- “That was just one person” you say with a smile and a giggle

- “You should have been at the store last week, my brother wouldn’t shut up about you” he says with a grin

- “Who’s your brother?”

- George describes Ron, but it doesn’t spark anything in you until he mentions the red hair

- “Oh yes, Ronnie! He comes by every month to get flowers for his girlfriend, I didn’t know he was your brother”

- What a small world

- You should have seen the similarity from the start, the hair was a dead give away really

- How come no one else at the shop had noticed either?

- “Well one of them” George shrugs

- “How many brothers do you have”

- George grins

- “That’s enough for a volleyball team!”

- “We have a sister too, the running joke is our parents wanted a girl, just one”

- By the time the appetizers are being brought out George has got the family picture from when they visited Bill in Egypt out (charmed so it doesn’t move of course)

- “You have a twin?”

- You know the second you’ve asked it that you said something wrong

- It’s not that George looks upset, or that his expression has darkened-

- He just looks so sad

- The kind of sadness that’s as deep as the Mariana Trench, hidden behind a kind smile and the gentle warmth of longing

- “I did have a twin-“ George knew this would come up sooner or later, he just didn’t want to ruin the nice mood you had going so soon

- “He passed away a few years ago”

- George is waiting for the look-

- The wide eyes, and the slight pout. That overly sympathetic look he’s gotten so often, it’s only natural. It happens to everyone, he won’t hold it against you.

- And it forms on your face a little, because you can’t imagine what it’s like to lose someone like that. But the next thing that comes out of your mouth is original

- “What was he like?”

- “What?” George is taken aback, he was expecting words of condolence, as is typical for this situation

- “You told me all about Bill, and Charlie, and Percy, and Ron, and Ginny-“

- Now he’s surprised that you’ve remembered all of his siblings names, and correctly at that

- “Now tell me about your twin”

- Your eyes are twinkling when they look to him. All of London stretches out behind you, like something from a painting. Your face is illuminated by the small candle in the middle of your table.

- It feels like something out of a movie, and George is afraid he might cry from the sheer beauty of it

- He never thought he would feel this way again

- “His name was Fred, and he was my best friend”

- He’s talked about Fred before, to his family, to his therapist and old classmates

- But he’s never had an experience quite like this

- “Umbridge? Oh she was the worst, like the bitter old nun who slaps your wrists with a ruler”

- Only worse

- “Anyway Fred and I- we planned this entire thing when we decided to leave school-“

- He tells you about the fireworks in the main hall of their boarding school, and the way they raced through the door and never came back

- “I think I would have liked Fred” you say, a warm look in your eyes

- He would have liked you too, George wants to say

- But that’s a little forward for the first date, he feels like he’s already unloaded enough with his broken family and their loss

- Lucky for him, dessert has just arrived

- “Compliments of the owner, we hope to see you both here again” Charles tells you, setting down two impressive plates of Tiramisu

- “Why do I get the feeling that whatever you did was more than just a last minute order fulfillment?”

- You shrug

- “Well after the whole thing- they started contracting me to do their regular day to day flowers” you shrug, it’s not that big of a deal, fancy places like this use a few different vendors, they probably have a different one for each day

- Which is for the best since your shop can only handle a few days at most.

- It’s not that you can’t produce enough flowers or anything, it’s just you wouldn’t be able to give Ainsley and Henry the leisurely work hours you do now, not while maintaining quality for your existing customers

- And that’s a big no for you

- “I take it business was always this good?”

- With how successful you seem, he honestly can’t imagine you struggling

- You scoff

- “It was tough at first, when I was by myself.” You still remember your family telling you that it wasn’t to late to declare bankruptcy and get a real job. “Things got better when Ainsley showed up- holidays are still tough though.”

- “Ron’s told me all about the hour long line at Valentine’s Day” George says with a grin and you bury your face in your hands with a muffled groan

- “Oh it’s going to be terrible this year.” Valentine’s Day is still a few months away, but you can already feel the dread

- “We started doing appointments only last year- because the amount of people that just show up and ransack the place is just-“

- “Oh I know,” George says. “My store doesn’t even sell anything all that romantic, but the amount of people who show up last minute to buy anything- one time a bloke even bought the decorations I had up.”

- “Have you noticed-“ you voice lowers as you lean forward. “That’s it’s never people looking for things for their significant other, it’s always-“

- “For the mistresses?”

- You nod enthusiastically

- “I thought maybe it was just my store-“ George leans forward as well now, talking very quickly

- “No the same person who ordered flowers two months in advance for their husband, will spend thirty minutes begging for me to put a bouquet together for their special friend”

- George leans back and shakes his head

- “It’s crazy isn’t it? How many people cheat?”

- You sigh, leaning back into your chair shrugging

- “It’s not our place to judge.”

- Especially not when the person in question is shoving fifty quid in your face for a god d*mn cactus and a card

- George knows that, and he knows there have been times that the only reason he was able to keep his shop afloat after Fred left is because of Valentine’s Day

- But still- cheating just irks him

- It’s the most unforgivable thing a person can do, to betray the person they love the most like that

- George knows every relationship is different- and that things aren’t clear cut-

- But he can’t ever imagine doing that to someone

- “I don’t get it though, I can’t even get one lover, let alone two or more” you laugh, and George swears it looks like you’re glowing

- He feels a smile twitch at the corner of his lips, the mischievous streak in him rolling awake after what feels like years of slumber

- “What if I told you I was trying to change that?”

- His arm is on the table, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours slightly

- You feel your face grow hot as his words sink in one by one

- A smile spreading across you face

- “I would say, I’m looking forward to it.”

BONUS:

- “So did you find out if Hottie’s color is natural?” Ainsley asks, a mischievous smile curled onto their lips.

- “Ainsley, his name is George, he owns a hobby store a few lanes over.” You say as you finish tying the bow on an arrangement.

- There’s a second of silence in which Henry and Ainsley exchange a look. Henry’s feeling pretty confident right now, Ainsley might have worked here longer than him, but he feels like he knows you pretty well, and he-

- “And yes it is, so you should both stop calling him Dye Job.” You say with a smile twitching on your lips.

- Henry.exe is broken.

- Ainsley has to hide their joy, internally cheering and wondering how to spend the money.

- “H-how do you know that?” Henry asks, maybe you’re just saying it so he and Ainsley will stop teasing your new love interest.

- You stop, looking up from your arrangement in slight wonder.

- Ah, he was right! It looks like you’re trying to come up with an excuse.

- “Well his brothers all seem to have that hair color, I think they get it from their Dad.”

- Ainsley and Henry.exe have stopped working.

- “YoU mEt HiS fAmIlY??” Ainsley shrieks.

#harry potter imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley headcanon #george weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #goerge adn fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley headcanon #harry potter headcanon #harry potter reader insert #harry potter preferences #harry potter imagine #harry potter

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riathedreamer · 3 years

Text

Zero is Null

A discussion of Zero’s love-hate-relationship with RvB and struggling independence; including a hotdog too big for the bun, tragic backstories, a single bow-chicka-bow-wow, and a cookie at the very end.

Welcome to what will be a lot of text. Basically, it will explore why Zero fails as an RvB (with emphasis on RvB) season. I will not be the first one to bring forth some of the points, and I promise to be fair and civil and fun. This isn’t supposed to be a piece of hate – in fact, I’m writing this because I love Red vs. Blue.

Okay, first of all, to increase your fun – take a guess on just how much of Zero is spent on fight scenes. You see, I’ve calculated the exact amount, and I will reveal it later, but for now, take a guess and remember the number. Maybe you are the winner!

Alright, time to share my thoughts. Wait! Since I suffer from anxiety and have this one annoying voice pretending to be all those critical statements my opinion could be met with, let’s give it an actual voice and address the points throughout this review.

“Why would I care about your opinion, Ria?” – I don’t know, you’re the one who clicked Read More.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter!” – Of course, it doesn’t! Geez. Do you think your opinion matters, though? Listen, we’re on Tumblr, the actual equivalent of screaming into the void. And it’s fun, too!

“If you don’t like it, don’t watch!” - *activates Uno Reverse Card* “You can’t talk about something you haven’t watched!”

“You’re just a Hater” – Actually, this is a point I’ll come back to. Like a cliffhanger. Also, at the end of this, there’ll be a cookie. But this will also include me talking about the stuff I like, because, surprise, Zero is not without talent!

“You just don’t like it because the Reds and Blues aren’t in it!” – Actually, that’s a good point, so instead, this review will start with a sole focus on Zero and discuss the problem that lies within that story. Then we can address why the lack of OG cast is understandable and problematic and weird.

But first! Backstory.

When the first 5 second teaser dropped back in spring (you know, when we were young and innocent and the world didn’t feel like an apocalyptic movie yet), I held onto that one image of what I thought (hoped) to be Grif and Simmons in the sunset, hopefully addressing Grif’s hateglue arc, but boy was I wrong because a) that’s not Simmons, that’s Sarge, and b) the image was from a PSA since the Reds are not in Zero.

Actual face-reveal of me below:

Admittedly, when I heard that the Reds and Blues were not going to be the main characters (or even show up), it felt like a gut punch. However, I actually found myself getting excited due to the creators’ hype. I want to praise them for this. It’s been a while since an RvB season was talked so much ABOUT before its release; it had advertisements, it had creators and voice-actors talking about it. Please. More of that in the future. Their passion rubbed off on me, and that deserves recognition. So it pains me that this was clearly a passion-project, and then when I gave it a try, I didn’t want to touch it again for weeks.

Here’s the thing. I cannot whole-heartedly say that Zero is bad. It’s not gonna melt your eyes. It’s not even so-bad-it’s-good. For me, it’s meh. It’s a Saturday-morning-cartoon aimed for a younger audience with a rushed plot and clichéd characters. The problem is that it calls itself RvB, and with that title comes something to live up to – but more importantly, something to continue.

My main issue is that Zero forces its story into existence by ignoring established content rather than adjusting to it. Let’s call this for the hotdog-too-big-for-the-bun syndrome solely for the sake of the bow-chicka-bow-wow that’s coming now. Bow-chicka-bow-wow. Many of the separate issues I will dive into all add to this hotdog-issue, so I will scream “Hotdog!” whenever this is the case so we can all keep track of my argument.

You can continue the story of Red vs. Blue without the Reds and Blues. While that would personally crush my heart, it can be done. There’s a story of Red vs. Blue that can be continued. The world can be expanded, the previous actions of the Reds and Blues can be explored from another angle.

So.

How does Zero do this? It doesn’t.

I just want to make it clear that new elements can definitely be added when it comes to worldbuilding. That’s literally the point of sequels. But Zero’s settings are presented with so little grace and with no connection to previously established worldbuilding. We get Alliance of Defense and GLASS thrown in our face as very big important organizations – yet we’ve never heard of them before. A big central plot point of RvB is the UNSC and Project Freelancers, and those were introduced naturally with the plot. We already have big established intergalactic organizations. What is AOD’s connection with those? We aren’t told. We are just told they exist and expected to accept it, no questions asked. If this was a whole new world and story – fine. But when you need to build on an already established worldbuilding, you need more grace than this. Chorus was a whole new setting, but it was explained, and it was connected to the previous plot. Same with Iris. Same with Desert Gulch. In Zero, it feels lazy. It feels forced. These organizations are just there because the story is built around them (HOTDOG).

This vagueness when it comes to wordbuilding is also reflected in the settings - we have a desert, a training base, a lab, temples, Tucker’s workplace, and we do not know if all those are set place on the same planet. If that is the case, what is this planet’s relationship with Chorus? Is it Earth? And most importantly, what is the deal with the temples? Why are they connected to Tucker’s sword if it isn’t the same planet. Are they made by the same aliens? Are people okay with this? Why haven’t these temples been explored before? Chorus makes sure to establish this, while Zero doesn’t, adding to a growing amount of confusion.

Okay, so no connection with previous worldbuilding. What about characters? I mean, we got Wash and Carolina and Tucker! So we have RvB characters, it gotta be RvB! Technically – yeah. But it feels dirty. These three characters are not here to be characters. They are here to be props to the new cast. They are not given any development. Their presence isn’t even that important, and if this was a whole new show, they could easily have been replaced with an unknown face. Worst of all, they feel miswritten.

Carolina and Wash are working at a new military organization? Leaving the Reds and Blues behind? To help people? First of all, fucking bad idea, Carolina, the last time you left the Reds and Blues alone, they changed the timeline. But most importantly – Carolina and Wash just joined this new super elite military organization? After being mistreated and manipulated by such an organization in the past?

Carolina is there to introduce the characters. That’s it. We are force-fed their personality by having her literally read out loud their personality. There is no gentle introduction to the new cast. We are not allowed to get to know them naturally. Why show when you can tell, huh? That’s Carolina’s role. That’s why she is there. To introduce the cast and explain their story. That’s it. (HOTDOG).

How about Wash? He is there to get beat up and be a damsel in distress so that the new cast has a reason to explore the plot. Oh, and that brain damage that was the consequence of previous seasons – gone now. The guy who literally has trauma from having an AI explode inside his head is fine with having a computer inserted into it instead. Because that’s needed. To explore his brain damage wouldn’t work now when his role is to be a prop to lure the new cast for one episode and then be put onto the bench for the rest of the runtime (HOTDOG).

And Tucker – he is there to die for a second and have his sword taken from him. That’s literally it. And for the few moments he is there, he feels like old super flirty Tucker, which erases the character development he went through in previous seasons. Okay, so Tucker dies, and then not dies, and then he is put on the bench with Wash where they can sit and talk or whatever (‘cause holy shit, the new cast is not allowed to that), because he isn’t important. The sword is. Tucker is just a prop, even more than his sword is (HOTDOG).

Damn. Wash gets beat up. Tucker gets beat up. Dies. Gets his sword taken away. Almost seems like a Red’s wet dream. Sorry not sorry, Blues, you were done dirty.

So there are miswritten old characters. Even worse is the retconning. The plot needs a “normal” Wash, so, bam, magic computer solution. Never mind Wash’s trauma and character traits. Never mind the logic of the new worldbuilding which also includes a character suffering for years to heal an illness. But the brain damage that was such a big consequence that it became the main part of the plot of the last two seasons – gone. I mean, a gunshot to the head can be healed by CPR. That’s canon. But no one gave Wash CPR so it’s a big thing, okay. It was canonically a big thing, and Zero erased that. This is not me saying that a Cerebral Enhancer couldn’t work in the RvB universe. Imagine it being done right. Wash struggling with the choice of getting used to his disability or accepting the possibility of help - at the cost of reliving his trauma. The struggle between what to choose - what should he choose when he wants to help as many as possible, the sacrifices he thinks he has to make, the way it could have been used as a part of his character growth. But in Zero, the enhancer isn’t a part of Wash’s character. It’s there so the story can work without having to deal with the previous plot’s consequence (HOTDOG).

Same with the sword thing. They sorta explain it by having Tucker flatline, but it’s weak. Honestly, I find it sorta offensive. What about Locus’ sword as well? It’s twisting previous lore to make the new plot work (HOTDOG). (Also, are we not gonna talk about the ultimate power being Spencer Porkensenson’s helmet? Have the writers forgotten Spencer Porkensenson? Have we as a community forgotten Spencer Porkensenson?)

If you have Red vs. Blue in your title, you cannot ignore what you inherit from it. You need to respect the worldbuilding, the established characters, and the previous plot. Zero does not do this.

Let’s talk about the Triplets. No, really, let’s do it. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about them before, because season 14 was a mixed bag for me (that I have now learned to appreciate. Thank you, Zero.) because I have heart at the size of the Grinch and can only love a few characters at a time, and that did not include the Triplets. Can’t even remember their names. Well, I can, but I can’t for the love of me remember which state is which, and my tongue is twisted every time I try to say Ohio, Iowa, and Idaho, and I know it’s on purpose. I know it is. And it got me good. That being said, the fandom actually embraced them really, really well! Seriously, I’ve seen more content for the Triplets than for Zero as a whole.

Why talk about the Triplets? (Was Iowa the lesbian? Or was it Ohio? Fuck.) Because like Zero, they introduced new characters with a story of their own. The Reds and Blues didn’t play a role. But here’s what I feel like the Triplets got right. They didn’t change the settings to force their narrative. They used stuff already established (Project Freelancer), added their own story as a continuation of that. They even included old characters in the beginning (Wash and some other Freelancers) but it felt natural and it didn’t feel like it happened at the expense of the old characters. Wash’s writing felt natural, and his presence wasn’t needed to tell these new character’s stories. He wasn’t a prop to them. He was there to establish the setting and to establish the relationship with these new characters, and then he and the other familiar faces (helmets??) left, and we as the viewers were left with these new characters. And the new characters told their own story by themselves. It felt like, hey, here’s something you know – remember Mother of Invention, and remember Wash’ lower rank, but now, try to imagine being even lower rank than him, aren’t you curious about those fates? Now let’s hear their story! It was new, it was something else, but it didn’t wreck what came before it, and it stayed true to the classic vibes of RvB.

As I said before, the hotdog-issue is my biggest problem with Zero. It infuriates me. I will return to this. But there are more issues, even if we try to look past the title-related problems.

If we try to imagine Zero as its own story and universe (as it should be, in my opinion), it still earns the meh review from me.

These isolated issues include awkwardness, the writing, lack of self-awareness, and pacing. First of all, holy shit, this is a tell, don’t show. Nothing is subtle, nothing is allowed to develop. It’s like the show thinks you are six years old with an attention span of a goldfish. You are not just led by the hand – they have literally pulled off your arm by the end of the show. We are force-fed every bit of information, every bit of personality from these new characters.

The voice-acting is a mixed bag for me. Sometimes it’s pretty good, sometimes it’s not. Some of the problems can definitely be blamed on the dialogue that you can only do so much with. It’s not good. I can’t remember any good jokes (the one joke I really appreciate was the cast on armor, and that was freaking visual humor. That was so RvB. Kudos to that. It was fun. More of that, please.), and RvB is known for having memorably good lines. This is a show built on good, clever, funny dialogue. Zero does not deliver. You have to sit through clichéd lines – “You’re not my dad”, “I trusted you”, “Come with me”, “It can’t be!”, “She’s way too powerful”, and “We have to do this together” – performed unironically. I cringed more than I laughed. Worst thing is that Zero could be a good parody. Sometimes, it feels like it is. One-dimensional characters, a villain wanting ‘the ultimate power’, very overpowered characters, bad one-liners, etc. But Zero takes itself seriously, and I was one of the people rooting for Jax to show up at the end and yell “Cut”. That would have been a funny-as-fuck twist. A spin-off parody. If I can’t have “Sarge the Movie”, I would have taken that and loved it. I would have forgiven everything. “We put so much info into finding that power, but we had no idea what it was” is really a line in the finale, and I cannot believe this is real in a show that somehow still tries to present itself as serious. What a plot.

We have to talk about pacing. God, first of all it should be stated that RvB is a mess when it comes to pacing. I honestly get what they were going for. Sometimes, RvB has come across as a bit boring when you get three episodes stretched over three weeks without much going on. I know season 11 did not have the warmest welcome because it was seen as boring until the finale. But when you see season 11 as a whole, as a movie, as a part of a trilogy, it works so well. Zero is more focused on being episodic. They want something to happen all the time so we will stay tuned. The thing that will happen – a fight. Oh god. The fight scenes.

I have done the math. I have run the numbers. I deserve a freaking cookie for this. Are you ready?

If you put all the episodes together, you have a runtime of 106 minutes. HOWEVER, with the introduction of credits in every episode, you gotta account for this. Removing the credits, this gives us 94 minutes of actual runtime. Out of that, 45 minutes are dedicated to fight scenes. That means 48% of the show is fight scenes.

If I wanted that many fight scenes, I’d watch Death Battle. Except the actual RvB Death Battle episode has a runtime of 20 minutes, and out of that, 5 minutes is dedicated to the actual battle. For the people who hate math – that’s 25% of the actual runtime.

RvB Zero has more fight scenes than a show called Death Battle. Take that in.

The pace suffers from this. Where’s the time to explore the characters? Where’s the time for good dialogue? All I can think of is this:

I get that RvB is a show that’s literally making fun of itself by acknowledging all their characters do is stand around and talk. I get that you want characters to do more than that. But for the love of Church, would it kill the new characters to stand around and talk? For just a minute? Stop fighting, I am begging you, stop fighting! Am I a pacifist now? Am I purple? Have I joined Doc’s team? What has Zero done to me?!

The good thing though is that fight scenes are very good. They’re entertaining. However, they seem to deconstruct themselves when we need to get a fight scene in every episode. Usually, the few fight scenes in an RvB season were in some of the most climatic episodes. In Zero, I can hardly keep up with the pace because they won’t stop moving. Fight scenes aren’t plot. They aren’t character development. You need more than just fight scenes. They entertain, but there’s a limit to that.

Noël Wiggins, the co-writer, stated the inspiration was a Saturday-morning cartoon. They nailed that vibe. If that was their goal, hurray, they have accomplished something! Because of the poor plot and constant fight scenes, it feels like you could just switch on the TV and drop in at any moment and let yourself be entertained by the cool and colorful soldiers punching and kicking each other. I will admit that the fight scenes entertained me. But they don’t make it a good season.

If I were the six-year-old with the attention span of a goldfish that the show believes I am, I honestly would enjoy it. The stiff dialogue and the constant tell-don’t-show makes you feel like an audience that’s not supposed to do anything else but admire the flashy fight scenes. I miss the cleverness of RvB. I miss the characters I get to connect with as I see them grow.

I miss the tone of RvB. Because this isn’t RvB to me.

It’s not that RvB hasn’t changed its tone before. Holy shit, I sorta do want to experience the absolute shock the RvB fandom went through when s6 aired and they were given new characters and serious plot. I would have loved to experience that, but I was too busy being ten years old. The Freelancers seasons also introduced a new tone and more fight scenes with very talented fighters compared to the Blood Gulch gang, but a balance was kept by having half of the season still revolving around the Reds and Blues. But Zero – Zero is so much change. And it’s on purpose. At least this has been made very clear from the beginning.

They constantly seem to appeal to new fans, rather than be directed towards older fans of the show. If you want an entirely new audience with a season with a new cast, new worldbuilding, and new tone, I’m confused as to why they don’t just make a new show. The hotdog-problem begs for this solution. This story and environment and characters feel so out of touch with the original RvB, that with a few rewrites and lack of Halo-armor, it could just be a new show. Problem solved.

If not this, then present it as a spin-off. In all ways, it feels like a spin-off (again, see everything marked HOTDOG). But the creators refuse to do this, and I don’t understand why. I could forgive many of these issues, had they officially separated themselves from canon.

Ah, what’s the idiom? You can’t both swallow and blow? (You can hear the Bow-chicka-bow-wow in the distance). Something about eating cake and having it. Forgive me, English isn’t my native language. POINT IS why are you calling yourself RvB while actively fighting against the core essence of RvB? In my humble opinion, you can’t be both. Marketing it as a spin-off would have granted it some defense when changing, well, literally everything, and I just, would someone please properly describe why it isn’t a spin-off? Isn’t this season marked by its association with the plot of RvB rather than a continuation of it? Zero presenting itself as not a spinoff feels like a toddler clinging to the hem of its mother’s dress while forcefully running away from her, ripping the dress in the process.

When they do connect with the original RvB, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. When they let Carolina, Wash, and Tucker appear for a moment, it feels like luring viewers in with the RvB title. Look at me. Look at me! I’m not saying this is the case. I say that it gives me the annoying vibes of being lured, rather than letting the characters be a part of the show for their own development, rather than having RvB in the title to continue its story. I should not be getting these vibes at all. But I am.

If you want to use RvB in the title, something from the core of RvB needs to be embraced. Things can be changed. They should. Something new should be brought in. But there’s a limit to how much you can change and replace and twist until it would have been better with an original show. As a season of RvB, it should tell the story of Red vs. Blue.

From my perspective, Zero fails to do so.

It pains me that the old cast has been replaced, but as stated earlier, a season could have worked without them. However, I do not like the take that one should be excited about all the new characters. That it isn’t a big thing that the OG cast got replaced. That we should just deal with it. Just, try to imagine another show suddenly replacing the main characters with characters we’ve never met before. Imagine RWBY suddenly only focusing on a new team of huntresses with the previous main characters reduced to an Easter Egg presence, or Camp Camp suddenly being about a new team of campers, no warning given. Can you imagine the outcry? So maybe let’s agree that a replacement of the main cast is a big thing and should be addressed and it’s valid to be upset about this change.

Could Zero have worked? It’s hard to answer this. How can I accept something as RvB if the season actively pushes away the core of RvB aside for an isolated story that could have been told in any other media? As a spinoff, I could have ignored it. To enjoy Zero, I have to fully separate it from RvB in my mind, and then it’s alright. S’not good. But it’s not bad. It’s entertaining enough. I really ended up liking Raymond and Tiny, and there were a few good jokes, and the fight scenes were admirable (but too much) and I love the creators’ passion. But it’s not RvB. I also wish that the new characters had been attached to previous worldbuilding, for example soldiers on Chorus or agents from Project Freelancer. That way we could build on familiar lore which would have decreased the confusion and added a much needed connection with the previous seasons of RvB.

God, the anxious voice is back (by the way, it sounds like Tutter from “Bear in the Blue House”).

“You’re racist” – I hope not. Literally, I do not want to be. Tell me if I’ve ever crossed some lines, because I swear, that is not my intention, I will apologize and most of all, change and do better. I included this because I’ve seen this take thrown around in the big ugly mess that is the fandom clashes regarding Zero. And racism is problem within RT community (this includes AH and RvB, sorry, I just use RT as an umbrella term for the latter), and I’m not saying it hasn’t been a problem with this season. Writers should never be harassed, and never-fucking-ever because of their skin color, and voice actors shouldn’t be treated like they are responsible for the choices of the show. But I was legit nervous to post this review, and I hope it’s been factual without feeling like personal attacks on the creators because that has never been my intention. I was delighted to hear about the diversity behind this project, and Torrian’s passion legit blew me away because it’s been a while since I’ve seen that for an RvB project. I’d hoped for it to be good, and when I feel disappointed, it’s for the reasons stated in this analysis. That said, Zero is made by a diverse cast and it’s made with love, and both of those things are so, so great, but it does not mean that Zero cannot be criticized. It can, and it should. It’s a product, just like all the other seasons, and fans are allowed to discuss it – both what they loved, and both what they found troublesome. And to repeat previous points, and be respectful, always, fuck racists, and never-fucking-ever harass the staff behind a season, what the fuck is wrong with you if you do this.

“Don’t you get it, it’s different because it’s trying something new!” – Hey, remember the philosophical question: if you replace all the parts of a ship one-by-one, is it still the same ship when you’re done? If it doesn’t include the Reds and Blues, if it ignores previous plot, if the old characters feel miswritten, if it values animation over dialogue, if it values fight scenes over comedy, if it wants to be Fast and Furious instead of Red vs. Blue – is it still Red vs. Blue? Because it doesn’t feel like it to me.

“It's been 17 seasons, it’s time to let the Reds and Blues go so someone else can shine!” – I simply do not understand us having been with the Reds and Blues for 17 seasons should be an argument to let them go, rather than be an argument as to why their absence hurt like hell.

“The Reds and Blues ran out of things to do!” – Did- did they, though? I mean, if we were discussing pretty much any other show, I’d probably agree that they were running out of content. But for the Reds and Blues… I think the PSAs nailed it this year! I’m not kidding, I had more fun watching the Reds and Blues discuss how to do laundry than watching Zero. You could literally give me an hour of the Reds and Blues trying to bake a cake or clear a gutter or simply settling down with an ordinary life, and I would trust them to make it worth the watch.

“The flaws were due to the fact it’s only 8 episodes long!” – Look, I can only judge a product the way it’s presented to me. I cannot come up with excuses for it. If they had 8 episodes to work with, they need to come up with a plot that works with this runtime. Seriously, this excuse cannot work when 48% of the season is spent on fight scenes. They could have used more runtime, sure, but the show needs to be able to pace itself and be planned accordingly.

“The OG cast couldn’t be a part of this year, hence Zero!” – That might be true. But. Would one year without RvB kill it? Is Zero necessary? Again, I just can’t judge excuses for the show. But trouble with the cast has been an issue before. Season 15 solves Geoff’s sabbatical by actually making Grif’s absence a part of the plot. Zero’s lack of Reds and Blues just feels like this excuse to tell a story that needn’t be a part of RvB.

Am I a hater? I guess? I greatly dislike Zero for the critique stated above. I do, however, not harass the creators and no one should ever do that. However, I have to admit that I feel there’s been this weird rejection of any critique of Zero where everything’s been brushed off as haters gonna hate, including the critique stated above. And I think that’s a problem because critique, as hard as it can be to hear (and I know this. I’m an author of original works. Weird flex, I know), is valid and necessary and shouldn’t just be shrugged away. As always, both sides of the fandom should always be respectful, but my own opinion is that addressing the flaws of Zero should not be controversial.

Does this super long rant/critique/whatever mean you cannot enjoy Zero? Gods no! I almost envy you if you enjoy this season, but holy shit, feel free to love it and tell the creators that you love it! Me pointing out the issues I have with the season shouldn’t be stopping you. I loved (and still love) s15 when it came out, and it was majorly rejected by the fandom. There were many, many critical posts, people were going on about how RvB should have ended with s13, and it evolved into the writer receiving death threats (me, once again: never ever harass the creators, assholes). But I didn’t tell people to stop being negative. I actually agreed with many of the flaws that were pointed out, and I enjoyed the season despite this, because that is possible. We, as RvB fans, should agree that RvB, is... I mean, it’s not the greatest, most flawless of shows, but we love it nonetheless. So go ahead and love Zero. This is not a stop sign. This is my opinion that you chose to read.

Wait, I promised you a cookie, didn’t I? Well, you’re not getting one. Why? Because I’m a Red and this is my chance to piss off a Blue. As Caboose wisely said: “Well, at least I don't go around... knocking on people's non-doors... and promising them cookies... and then NOT. GIVING. THEM. COOKIES!”

Blue Team sucks.

End speech.

#rvb zero #rvb #rvb zero critical #rvb critical #rvb0 #my rvb stuff #pls dont hate me for this #this is my honest opinion that people apparantly wanted to hear #as a standalone story zero isnt totally bad #as an rvb season it is

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the-hopeless-haze · 4 years

Text

A Dwindling, Mercurial High

Pairing: Elliot Stabler/reader

A/N: Okay so I had a dream about Stabler the other night and he’s my original SVU crush (sorry Barba) and I had “Illicit Affairs” stuck in my head the whole day after so I had to write this. Thank you to @caked-crusader and @detective-giggles for encouraging my insanity lol!

Content Warning: NSFW due to sex. Brief mentions of cases that Elliot is working on. Infidelity.

The first time you met Elliot, it was because Dickie had a bad asthma attack and had to be hospitalized overnight. You were fresh out of nursing school, more anxious than confident, and it was a night from hell in that pediatric ward, maybe the worst you’d seen in the couple months since you’d started working. The charge nurse could only start one thing before she was asked to help with something else, two nurses called out and only one could cover, and everyone had at least a three-patient assignment. Suffice it to say tensions were high on that floor, and because Dickie wasn’t the sickest of your patients, you didn’t get to see him as often as you should have. Doing your best felt akin to doing nothing, and every time you came in the room, you apologized you hadn’t been able to come in fifteen minutes ago.

Elliot and Kathy told you it was okay and that they’d been through this before and knew what to expect. But it wasn’t really okay, you knew that. No one wanted to think that their nurse was too busy taking care of other sick children to pay attention to theirs.

Needless to say, you were far too busy that night to pay much attention to Elliot that night, but it wouldn’t be the last time you saw him, so maybe it didn’t matter. Still, sometimes you want to remember that glance that started everything because you have so little to hold onto.

You nearly have a heart attack the next week when your nurse manager says an NYPD detective needs to speak with you, and you nearly have another when you see Elliot’s face. You’ll remember the glance vividly this time; you look down at the linoleum hospital floor before finally sweeping your eyes across his face. He’s not mad; you can tell he’s the kind of man who’d let you know if he was angry, so you try to still your shaking hands.

“I just wanted to let you know Dickie’s doing a lot better,” he says, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

“Um, you’re welcome. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more help—"

“Don’t beat yourself up, kid. It was a madhouse in here that night. Besides, I know it was you who got the doctor to switch his meds. They’re working a lot better now. He can actually sleep through the night.”

“Well, that’s great!” you say brightly, genuinely feeling a lot better about that night now. “Did you really come out all this way just to tell me?”

He chuckles, shakes his head. “No. I’m working. Victim’s getting a rape kit done here, so I thought I’d see if I could find you while I wait.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes widening. “What unit do you work on?”

“Special Victims. I’d say I hope I see you around, but I really don’t want my work to bring me to this floor.”

“Me neither. I sincerely hope I never see you again,” you say, smiling, and he smiles back, claps you on the shoulder and thanks you again before leaving.

“He was hot,” Tammy, your best friend on the ward, says as she comes over. “And he came back to see you. Maybe you should ask him out?”

“Well, he’s married,” you laugh. “All the DILFs are. Wives don’t wanna let that go.”

And you really thought that was that. You did have your fair share of DILFs come through that floor, and on slower shifts you’d fantasize about what it would be like to be the other woman, especially when couples would argue to the point of tears. Sure, tensions were always high when children were ill, but those screaming matches were always the result of a more systemic issue within their relationship. Some marriages were destined to fall apart, and sometimes it was exhilarating to dream about being the catalyst, even if you’d never actually act on it. No harm done in imagining yourself with a man you’d only see once in your life.

But you’d see Elliot again in a few months when his job did in fact bring him to your floor. He’s accompanied by a brunette woman, who you later learn is his partner, Olivia. You have no idea how they do their jobs. Sick kids you could handle, but children that had been abused, that were put into that hospital bed, not by the hands of a virus or disease process but by the hands of an adult... it was enough to turn your stomach. But now, at least, you had a direct line to call whenever you thought something iffy was going on between a family, as Elliot gave you his card. He said he trusts your judgment. You tried to suppress your heart fluttering. You’re too young to be having palpitations, but you can’t help staring at him longingly the whole time he’s there talking to the doctor, and you hope neither he nor Olivia notices. He just cared so much, and there’s nothing that gets the ovaries into action like seeing a man that protective over children.

You have to realize, though, that he was just being nice, and he just wanted another set of eyes out there to make sure no one got away with hurting children. You were all too happy to fill that role, anyway. It was a noble one. It had nothing to do with you specifically, and you had to be okay with that.

But fate is a funny thing, because even though you dated around throughout the next couple years, even though you had plenty of other things to occupy your time... Elliot always came back into your life somehow. Just when you thought you forgot about him, it seemed like he was waltzing onto your floor, or, god forbid, there was a child’s family you wanted him to speak to and make sure was alright.

Most times he came empty-handed and almost every time he came with Olivia, but on occasion, he’d show up by himself and with two coffees. And you grew up a little in those couple of years, even if you never grew past harboring your little crush on Elliot. You lost your anxiety that came with being a fledgling nurse and enrolled in a nurse practitioner program. You had your heart broken a few times and you broke a few hearts of your own. You moved out of your parent’s apartment and got your own place.

As for Elliot? Those years didn’t treat him as kindly. He wasn’t growing up as much as he was going down. Kathy wanted to leave him, he felt like he was losing touch with his kids, and his career path only fueled the anger that gnawed at him day after day and night after night. How the hell did his life get this fucked?

Of course, you weren’t privy to this information until he punched a hospital wall. It was a long night, and one of the children he rode on the ambulance with didn’t make it. You were upset, too, of course, even though he wasn’t your patient, and you couldn’t wait to get out of here and cry over a bottle of wine. But when Elliot’s fist connected with the wall, you knew your night was going to end much differently.

“(Y/n)! Are you busy? I need you to take your cop friend out of here. We don’t want the parents seeing that. Go! Clean up his hand and make sure he’s billed for that wall,” the doctor barks at you. “You gonna move?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it, Doc,” you murmur, but you’re frozen in place at the nurse’s station. You can’t help staring at Elliot as he steps out of the room, with his chest heaving, his hand bloodied, his blue eyes ablaze. Eventually, your legs cooperate with you again, and you nod at him, motioning for him to follow you down the hallway. You grab some gauze and alcohol from the supply closet on the way and lead him into an empty room, taking his hand in yours. “Can you make a fist for me? I need to see if it’s broken.”

Elliot doesn’t say anything; he barely even looks at you, but he does as you ask.

“Okay. Good. You're just gonna be a little sore. You can relax it now. The alcohol is going to sting—“

“I know,” he says hollowly.

“I’m sorry. You’re the oldest patient I’ve had since I was in school,” you say, feeling your face flush as you grab the alcohol and wipe his knuckles. "This isn't the first time you've attacked a wall, then, hm?"

Elliot shoots you a withering look and you swallow thickly. Was he going to yell at you now? Thankfully, he sighs and the anger in his eyes fades. "Listen. I'm sorry you had to be here for that.”

"It's alright. I've seen worse. And I know it's tough, Elliot," you say. "Everyone handles grief differently."

"It ever get any easier for you?"

"No," you whisper, letting your hair fall in front of your eyes so he can't see them well up with tears as you lean over to bandage his hand. "Guess it never does. I don't get angry; I just get depressed. You don't want to get desensitized to it, though. I'd rather see people punch walls than not care."

Your breath catches in your throat as he pushes your hair back with his good hand, and he keeps it there on the side of your cheek. All this time, in the four years of knowing this man, and he'd never touched you like this. Come to think of it, you never exactly stood this close to him, either. Your relationship was always professional, despite all the times you wished it wasn't. Wasn't there a reason you two kept ending up in the same rooms? Wasn't there a reason you ended up in this one, alone? And you could get drunk off his scent, couldn’t you? The slight musk of sweat from his earlier exertion, the woodsy headiness of his cologne, the hint of spearmint on his breath from his mouthwash... it was all too much, and it’s all you have in you to not lean into his touch, to not lean over and press your mouth to his...

“Elliot—“

"Don't talk," he murmurs. "Unless you want to stop me. Do you?”

You wouldn’t dare.

When your lips finally do connect, it's electric, even though the only thing running through the back of your mind is how you'd probably be fired if anyone stepped into the room at this moment. You can't very well deny yourself what you've been wanting on and off for years, though, even if it’s wrong. His hands grab your waist and yours find purchase on his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex underneath you as he moves you to straddle his thigh. You have to try very hard not to search for that friction your whole body aches for, not yet, not when you don’t know how far he wants to take this and when you’re still on the clock.

“When do you get off?” he asks, and you both chuckle at the unintended double-entendre.

“At eleven.”

“Come have a drink with me.”

“I don’t want a drink. I want to continue this,” you purr, getting off his lap to fix the bandage and tape it down.

“You sure?”

“Elliot, I thought you’d never ask me. I would’ve been sure four years ago,” you say, feeling slightly guilty at that, but it was true. The more you saw of him without his wife and children the easier it was to forget that they were the reason you met him in the first place. And if at any time he kissed you like that? You know you’d be putty in his hands just like you were now. “You don’t need to go back to the precinct?” You don’t dare ask about home. Selfishly, you don’t want that to cross his mind.

“I’ll be back here by eleven.”

It’s another breathless kiss before you’re out the door, heading back to finish your shift.

“The hell are you all red for, (y/n)?” Tammy asks as you round the corner.

“Nothing,” you say. “Just ran up here. You need anything?”

“Ran up here? Weren’t you taking care of... oh. You’re playing with fire, girl,” she says, smirking.

“Shut up,” you say, but you can’t force your cheeks to cool down. “Nothing happened.”

“Mm. Be careful. He’s still married, isn’t he?”

You wouldn’t listen. You were only after chasing that high, even if it was only born to die in front of your eyes. —- You’re straining against your handcuffs, and you can’t see Elliot at all through the blindfold, but you can feel his hands and his mouth, hot and heavy, touching you everywhere. You have no clue where to focus, and you still can’t quite believe he’s here in your apartment. Part of you expected him to stand you up and realize that he should be going home instead of taking you to bed. But he either didn’t have that epiphany or he didn’t care - and you were desperate enough for him that you’d take either - and so began your first illicit meeting.

“I told you to stop pulling at those, baby,” Elliot says, his tone stern. “You’re going to make yourself bleed.”

“Maybe if you gave me what I wanted, I wouldn’t have to—“

He cuts you off with a firm kiss, and you can feel his cock hard against your thigh, and not being able to see only heightens the sensation. “You gonna give me attitude, baby? I don’t think so. Why don’t you relax? I’m gonna take care of you. Gonna take my time though. Been four years of seeing your ass in those tight scrubs and not being able to do fucking anything about it.”

“You noticed me…. Like that?”

“You think I’d be here if I didn’t? Don’t act innocent now. You know what you do to me.”

Of course, you had noticed him looking at you sometimes, but you never let yourself read into it, but now, everything was coming back to you and… oh, fuck, finally he slips two fingers into your entrance and you’re drawn out of your thoughts, arching your back as he drags his fingers across your walls, painstakingly slow.

“You’re fucking soaking, baby girl,” he grunts. “You think you can take three? Mm. Gonna stretch you out a little.”

His bandaged hand comes to still your hips and you can’t believe he’s fucking you this good with his non-dominant hand, his thumb flicking against your clit every so often, those little shocks of pleasure bringing you closer to the million little deaths you deserved. Sometimes you’d feel his mouth where you’d least expect it, too, his tongue licking a trail up your stomach to take your nipple in his mouth or his teeth and tongue working on leaving a mark on your collarbone.

“Please. So close, El,” you pant, rolling your hips in vain.

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it, come on, let go, baby,” Elliot growls in your ear. “Just let go.”

And you do, falling apart with his name on your lips before he kisses you again, swallowing down all your moans and whimpers, his hands leaving your lower body to find purchase in your hair.

“You good?” he asks, barely pulling away from your mouth.

“So good,” you gasp, straining upward to press your lips to his again.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby, that okay?”

“More than okay.”

You’re so wet he doesn’t meet much resistance, but you’re still sensitive from your orgasm so soon before, and combined with the fact that you can’t see or touch him - it was almost too much at once.

“Oh fucking hell,” Elliot grunts. “You good?”

“Yes. Please start fucking moving,” you whine. “Fuck me hard.”

You can tell he needs that; he needs to let go of all his pent-up anger and frustration, and you didn’t really care if at the expense of that you couldn’t walk tomorrow. You’d do anything, anything for just the chance to occupy a sliver of his life.

And God, once given permission, he doesn’t hold back at all. He sets a brutal pace, the bed shaking and moving in tandem with the force of his thrusts. You can’t see him, obviously, but you can feel the weight on the bed shift and his angle change as he grips the headboard, driving into you so roughly you think you might black out. He starts grunting softly with every thrust, and then, oh - you feel him move back down, his lips catching yours and his hands cupping your breasts and it’s all you can do to fight with your body not to come yet; you want to come with him, experience this high together.

“Fuck, (y/n), so good,” he groans, his tongue running over the bruise he’d sucked onto your skin earlier, and you whimper in response. “So fucking good for me, taking my cock so good. Knew you’d be fucking amazing.”

If his dirty talk wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, well, he adjusts his angle with a particularly strong thrust of his hips and you’re pulling on the handcuffs again, the sting as they slice into your wrists a sharp contrast to the impending pleasure - if you could just hold on - and thankfully, Elliot’s panting brusquely in your ear that he’s close, that you should let go again. Coming together is a beautiful euphoria - one that was desperately needed after the night you had, after the four years of longing stares that neither of you, apparently, knew was reciprocated until now. But like the end of all highs, you have to come down at some point. Elliot lifts the blindfold and looking into his eyes for the first time since he stripped you naked, you can’t help but feel like a fucking mess. But you know you’d do it again, and again, and again...

“I told you not to pull at those,” he tsks, leaning over to unlock the handcuffs and free your wrists. “You’re bleeding, (y/n).”

And, like some bad deja vu, Elliot’s cleaning your wounds with alcohol like you did for him only hours prior.

And after, he stays and talks with you a little, mentions vaguely his marriage is going downhill, which you could have easily figured out yourself, and when you wake up in the morning, he’s gone without a trace. You had to expect that he couldn’t stay, and you wonder what lie he fed his wife. You wonder if she believed it. Was this just a one time thing? Maybe you just both needed to get this out of your system, as almost half a decade of sexual tension needed to be dealt with somehow.

But no. Like always, you see him again, and on most occasions, now, he ends up tangled in your bedsheets. It feels like you’re always competing with other women for Elliot’s attention, whether it be Kathy or Olivia. But you take solace in the fact that you’re the only one he’s going to fuck like this. Olivia’s his partner, and that relationship is already too close for comfort to bring sex into. And if he came home with handcuffs and a blindfold to his wife, she’d drag his ass to therapy. You’re the only woman in his life that he can use for this, and that thought alone could get you high, could get you off. And sometimes, that feels like all he’s using you for, a sense of release for the moments when he doesn’t want to be at home and he can’t be at work. But other times - he lets you in, tells you jokes, tells you stories - and in some ways you’ve never felt this close to another person. He played such a different role in all the other areas of his life - but with you - he didn't have to play one, and sometimes you caught a glimpse of the man he was before all his burdens were placed onto his shoulders. You know you’ll never have a relationship like this with anyone else.

And for that reason, you’ll always answer the phone when he calls, even if you ruin yourself every time. You would for him. You always would for him.

#elliot stabler x reader #elliot stabler #svu fanfiction #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order: special victims unit #law & order svu #idk man don't ask me #the cogs just started turning and idk #i don't think he'd ever cheat on kathy lol but fuck it

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butgilinsky · 3 years

Text

december // mb

warning; heartbreak. that’s it.

summary; after he’s left alone in an empty apartment with the weight of the world on his shoulders, mat comes to realize that december’s his least favorite month of the year. based on the song december by neck deep.

word count; 3.8k+

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

mat doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around the block. all he knows is that it’s hard to see, even harder to walk straight, and he can’t shake the itch he has to call you. he just needs one more time, just one final attempt at hearing your voice, even if it’s just your answering machine.

“hey, this is y/n! i’ll get back to you-” he hangs up then, decides that he doesn’t have the mental capacity to leave another message.

it’s only been two weeks, but mat feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you. his heartbreak is just as fresh as it was when you walked away from him, tears in his eyes and mind going through the motions of trying to put itself back together again. two weeks isn’t long enough to heal from the gaping hole you left in his heart. there’s not enough time in the world for mat to heal properly.

he comes to the realization that he’ll never be the same fairly quickly. he thought you were it for him. he thought that every obstacle would be tackled by the two of you together. he thought you’d be in this shit show called life together, for the long haul. he can’t say it’s not his fault, can’t say he tried as hard as he could. he took you for granted, and he knows that now, but now it’s too late.

he thinks that december is the worst month to be face heartache. he can’t take you home for christmas like he planned, can’t kiss you when the clock strikes midnight on january first. he doesn’t get to see you shudder from the cold despite him telling you to bundle up ten times before leaving the house. the christmas decorations that line the street are a constant reminder of the ones you lined the apartment with, and mat starts to think he’ll never look at christmas decorations the same.

when he gets back home he sees a pair of your shoes by the door. he sees the christmas card from your best friend sitting on the table in the entry way. he sees little traces of you, almost fooling him into thinking you still live there. he has to remind himself then, your stuff is here but you’re not. you told him you’d pick everything up after he went to vancouver, wanting to limit your amount of contact with mat, but that only made it worse for him.

you didn’t want to see him anymore. he wants to see you, and you want nothing to do with him anymore. it’s a hard pill to swallow, losing you so quickly after having you for so long. he knows he should understand, knows he should come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the best he could’ve been. he wasn’t the man he should’ve been, nowhere near the man you deserved. you asked for simple things and mat told you he’d never be able to give them to you.

he thinks about how hard it’ll be to go home, to open gifts on christmas when he knows that theres a pile of boxes in the back of his closet that’ll never be opened. he knows that he should return them, should take them back to the stores before his grace period expires, but he can’t bring himself to even look at the boxes. he can’t bring himself to return the gifts he bought for you, can’t imagine going over each individual one in the process.

tito offers to do it for him, says that he has a pair of pants he needs to return anyways, but mat knows better. he knows his friend is just doing what he thinks will help, and while it’s heartwarming, it’s also gut wrenching that his friends think he can’t take care of things himself.

the first time he sees you after you walked out is at a restaurant, sitting across the table from a guy he’s never seen before. anders asks if he wants to leave, says that there’s another place they can go to right around the corner. mat shakes his head and slides into his seat, says it’s fine even though it’s not.

he sits with his back to you, figures that’ll make it easier to resist the temptation to look at you. he doesn’t know that you watched him walk in, watched him slide into the seat facing away from you. he doesn’t know that your heart sinks into your stomach when you see him turn his back to you, silently telling you that it’s simply too difficult to look at you now.

you excuse yourself from your table, the man across from you offering you a worried smile before you walk to the bathroom quicker than normal. you grip the edge of the sink, leaning over it in case your stomach fails you. the world around you spins, makes it harder to catch your breath that’s only getting worse with every passing second.

you try to ground yourself, try to tell yourself that you did what was right for you, that this is what you wanted. it’s what you needed. you remind yourself that you want things that mat can’t give you. you want things that mat doesn’t want to give you. you need a life that mat can’t provide.

“what do you want from me, y/n?” it’s the same fight, the one you’ve had too many times to count. you ask for something simple, ask him to do the bare minimum only for him to act as if you asked him to pull the moon out of the sky and shove it in your pocket.

“i want you to tell me that we’ll get there! i don’t need it now, mat, but-”

“but that’s the thing, y/n. you do need it now. you want me to throw away everything i’ve worked for because you want some stupid house with a red door and shrubs around the lawn. you want to get married on a beach or in a forest. you want to have a large wedding, a reception in a big ballroom where everyone is smiling at you like you’re the only person in the room.

“you want kids that pull on your hair and draw on the walls. you want to settle down and have a life made for thirty year olds who sit in cubicles from nine to five and then go home and eat dinner at the kitchen table. but i can’t give that to you. you want a life i can’t give you.”

it hits you at full force, like a tsunami that nobody saw coming just before it wipes out an entire city. you try to ground yourself, try to bring yourself back to the restaurant bathroom that you’re in, rather than your place in the middle of your living room, crying and begging mat to just listen to you.

you don’t think you’re ready to leave the space just yet, but you’re reminded that you’re not here alone, and the guy at your table is probably worried that you’re crawling out of the bathroom window.

you run straight into someone on your way out of the bathroom, chests colliding into one another before you’re both rushing out apologies. you’re almost knocked off of your feet by the force, and grip onto the first thing that you can reach, which happens to be the person’s forearm.

anthony’s hands steady you, making sure you don’t topple over in the heels that are suffocating your feet. he tries to mask his shock with a warm smile, tries to hide the sympathy that’s eating away at him. it doesn’t work, but you can tell he’s trying.

he noticed the red rimmed eyes you’re sporting, and the way your eyeliner is smudged just the slightest bit. he notices the indents in your bottom lip from where you were just chewing on it to conceal the sounds of your sobs. it’s not the first time he’s seen you in a state similar to this one, and he’s not sure if he hopes it’s the last.

you see him look back at his table and make the mistake of following suit, feeling every muscle in your body tense when you find the same set of eyes you’d missed for two months. you can’t tear your eyes away from him, can’t even bother to notice that the guy who brought you here is watching the entire exchange.

mat doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know if he should look away and pretend like he never saw you or if he should get up and go talk to you. he doesn’t know where the boundaries are drawn or if he’s invited to overstep them regardless of what they entail. he wants to ask you, wants to stand up from his set and rush to take tito’s spot. he wants to hear your voice and feel your touch, feel his heart intertwine with yours in a bed shared by the two of you.

anders brings mat back, clapping a hand on his back and trying to integrate him back into the table’s conversation. you look at him for a little longer, only brought out of your thoughts when you hear anthony’s voice.

“y/n-”

“i have to go.” you leave him before he can say anything else, walking up to your table and rushing out a slew of apologies as you gather your things.

“i’m sorry, i have to go.” he notices the tears building in your eyes, asks you if you need a ride home or money for a cab, both of which you turn down but thank him for. he’s not sure what just happened but he knows you can’t stay here for much longer without tipping over the edge, so he lets you go.

you walk by his table then, trying to ignore the fact that you’re so close to him. you ignore the call of your name and cover your mouth with the back of your hand as you inevitably catch the attention of half of the restaurant.

“barz, don’t-”

“y/n!” he’s out of his seat and running after you before any of his teammates can bring him back down.

he doesn’t care that the whole restaurant is watching, doesn’t care that he’ll see stories about the exchange in the morning. he just focuses on you running out of the doors the best that you can, focuses on the fact that he’s getting closer to you with every stride. it’s not close enough, but it’s the closest he’s been in a long time and he’ll take anything he can get at this point.

“y/n!”

“don’t do this, mat.” it’s the first time he’s heard your real voice for month; the first time it’s not your answering machine or his saved voicemails from you. it’s not in a video he can’t seem to stop watching, or a figment of his imagination in the middle of the night. it’s you, and you’re here. for a moment, he thinks he’s dreaming.

“baby, please.” you move when he reaches for you, trying to hail a cab as quickly as you can so you can get the hell out of this situation.

“i can’t do this. please, mat, please don’t do this. i’m begging you.” he feels his heart sink at the desperation in your face, somehow coming to terms with the notion that you don’t want to talk to him right now, and you probably don’t want to talk to him ever again. “i can’t do this to me mat, because if i let you tell me what you’re thinking then i’m not going to be able to walk away from you.”

your words hit him at full force, almost knocking him straight off of his feet. he’s not entirely sure what weight your words held, but he does know the he wishes you’d give him the room to explain why that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

a cab pulls up to the curb and you’re reaching for the handle before he can get another word out, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. he’s forced you into conversations that you didn’t want to have for months, he can’t bring himself to do that right now despite the questions swimming around in his mind.

he watches you slip into the backseat, locking eyes with him one more time before shutting the door and begging the cab driver to take you home. he knows he messed up, knows he should’ve stayed in the restaurant, knows that he shouldn’t have let you walk out in december.

you’re gone before he can process it. he’s left standing on the edge of the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes glued to the spot where you once stood. he feels a hand on his back, hears his friends telling him that you just needed time, that it was still all too new for you to face.

but they don’t know you the way he does. they don’t know that you’re never going to be ready to face this. they don’t know that all you wanted was mat in a big house with a rose colored door, and all he gave you was the opportunity to find him passed out in the bathroom at three in the morning, too drunk to crawl into bed.

he hears tito say the same thing he always does. the four words he hates to hear, but can’t seem to get his friend to stop muttering when the situation arises.

“pain is never permanent.”

he bites his tongue, doesn’t want to yell at tito and tell him that he knows that, but tonight it’s killing him. he doesn’t say that december has become his least favorite month, that he wishes time would slow down so he wouldn’t have to reach the end of the year.

the next time he sees you is a few months later. this time you’re in the park, hand gripping a leash with a dog he’s never seen on the other end of it. he feels his heart threatening to jump out of his chest when he sees you leaning into someone’s side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. he has a leash in his hand as well, a different dog on the end of it.

he doesn’t know if they’re yours or his, the dogs. he doesn’t know if they’re still puppies or fully grown. he doesn’t know if the guy you’re with is your new boyfriend, or a friend that’s overly affectionate.

he gets his answer, unwillingly, when you turn to the man and smile brightly, watching as you push yourself onto your toes and press your lips to his. mat feels bile tickle the back of his throat, feels the gut wrenching feeling that comes with a heartbreak that’s never subsided.

he wonders how he’s forced to see you like this. the city’s so big, and he had to be at the same park as you and him today. his jog picks up pace, his frustration being fueled into his early morning run.

you see him when he passes you, eyes locking for just a moment before he looks ahead of himself once more. you know he’s mad, know he’s still grieving, but then you’re reminded of the man beside you, his hand squeezing your shoulder just as the dog on your leash gives you a firm tug as a reminder of where you are and who you’re with.

you smile at him and tell him that yeah, you’re fine. you walk with him, only glancing over your shoulder once. mat’s already gone, no sign of him anywhere in sight. you almost wonder if you’d made up the entire thing in your head.

it’s december again, and when mat reaches up to scratch his neck, he’s reminded of the facial hair he’s sporting. he remembers a time when you ran your fingers over his jaw, scratching gently at the stubble forming.

“should i shave it?” you hum, almost not hearing his question. he asks again, peeling his eyes away from the tv and looking down at you.

your head’s on his chest, and your eye are wide with admiration as you look up at him and shake your head. you tell him no, that you like his facial hair and it makes him look about five years older. he smiles, despite the fact that he asks you if that meant you didn’t like the babyface he usually wore.

you smile then, rolling your eyes and squealing when his fingers dig into your ribs. you try to swat him away, but he rolls the two of you over and effectively traps you between him and the mattress. he only stops when you struggle to catch your breath from laughing, both of you wearing wide, cheesy grins while holding eye contact.

you lean up and press your lips to his, humming when he pushed back against your lips with added pressure. his fingers dip down to your hips, gripping them slightly before slipping under the material of your shirt.

mat has to pull himself out of the memory before his mind goes too far. he can’t spend too much time dwelling on the moment, or he’ll back out. he can’t back out, not after getting this far.

he needs to tell you, needs you to know that he wants the best for you. he wants you to have everything you’ve ever wanted in life, even if he isn’t the one that gets to give it all to you.

he wants you to know that he loves you, and will until his last breath. the years he spent with you weren’t like anything else he’s ever experienced, and he has a feeling it was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

your smile spreads a warmth through his chest. he notices that it doesn’t reach your eyes, but neither does his. he walks into the coffee shop, know that there are so many thoughts bound to be left unspoken by the end of this. neither of you know how to start this conversation, but you take the first plunge.

“you look good.” he lets a soft laugh slip, not understanding how that can be the first thing you’re saying to him after all of this time. he takes it in stride though, and bites his tongue so he doesn’t return the sentiment.

there’s not much small talk. it’s practically impossible to sit in front of the other and pretend like the last few years never happened. he can’t act like he doesn’t know how it feels to wake up beside you, or have your lips moving up and down the skin of his neck. you can’t pretend you don’t know how it feels to watch him score a goal, or two, or three, and be the one that gets to go home with him afterwards.

so he takes a deep breath, and you sense the hesitation coursing through him. he notices your patience, remembers how that came in handy over the course of your relationship. he gives you another small smile, and grips the cup in front of him as a way to keep his hands occupied while he starts to speak.

“i just want you to know that i want you to be happy. i know that you are, and that makes me happy. i hope you get your ball room floor, and your perfect house with rose red doors. i know that it’s been a long time, and i couldn’t tell you that when-” he swallows, and attempt to stop the lump from forming in his throat. it doesn’t work, but it adds a sense of comfort in a weird way.

“i want you to know that i’m happy for you. i wish it was me, and i’d be lying if i said there’s a point where i won’t feel like that, but i know that you wanted things i couldn’t give you. i hope he's better than I ever could have been.” he doesn’t say that he doesn’t think that’s possible, and he doesn’t say that he’s ready to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you asked him for a year ago.

he doesn’t say that he’s ready now, that he’s at a place that he didn’t think he’d ever reach. you don’t get the pleasure of knowing that mat’s ready for this, for you. you’re left with the thought that he’ll never be ready, and you’ll never be given the chance to see mat mowing the lawn of a big, two-story house with a red door and a wrap around porch.

you don’t tell him that you want to hear it, that you need to hear it. you don’t tell him that you’d drop everything you have right now if it meant that you can live that life with mat. he doesn’t get the pleasure of knowing that you’re silently begging him to ask you to leave your new life behind and run away with him. he’s left with the thought that you’re satisfied with what you have going for you, and he’ll never be given the chance to see you in a beautiful white dress, walking towards him with a smile so bright, he thinks it’ll blind him.

you sit across from each other, biting your tongues and holding back words that would change everything if just one of you would simply spit it out. if one of you could build the courage to just say what you were both thinking, your lives would change once again. your lives would finally end up being everything you wanted them to be.

but you don’t say anything, because you don’t think there’s a place for you to say it. mat doesn’t say anything, and he thinks he’s doing the right thing by holding back. he thinks he’s come to terms with how his life is meant to play out, and you think he’s still incapable of reaching the point that you need him to be at.

you leave the coffee shop with a weight on your shoulders that wasn’t there when you arrived. your stomach feels uneasy, maybe from the coffee but definitely from the realization that you’d never be able to move on from mathew barzal.

mat stays in his seat after you leave, not being able to hug you goodbye or watch you walk back to your car. he can’t find it in him to move from his spot, trying to give himself the time to come to the realization of what just happened. he knows that he still loves you, knows that he’ll always love you. he feels his chest ache and maybe it’s the weight of the situation, but it’s definitely from the realization that he’d never be able to move on from you.

it’s going to be another long, lonely december.

barzy taglist; @extratragic @vinceduhn @teenagekook @smit41 @sidscrosbyy

himbos; @babytkachuks @bricksatlandyswindow @anxietyandtacos @damndunner @dmonchld @kiedhara @sortagaysortahigh

#mathew barzal #mat barzal #mat x reader #new york islanders #islanders #isles #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #mathew barzal imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal x reader #barzy

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ringmyheart · 4 years

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hey, i was wondering if i could hv headcanons with how to fight characters? maybe when their crush's parents scold them for getting bad score at school, like that time at the end of the semester. pls do it with seong taehoon and jiyeon woo. thank you! 🥺

SEONG TAEHOON

The first thing he’s gonna do honestly is tell u to fight ur parents. U tell him about how u got a bad score and how it’s the end of the semester and the test/ur overall grade was important and he’s so used to living life the way HE wants he tells u to just. Fight them

And you’re first thought 2 say is idk how to fight? Bc what he said is just so sudden and kinda preposterous and ur upset and he’s like okay, I’ll teach u then and ur like I’m not fighting my parents 😭 and he goes okay then I’LL do it

And u have to rlly reiterate like” NOBODY is fighting my parents” first and foremost and after that he kind of just goes silent because he has no idea how to help you or what to do and u have knocked every idea he’s offered out of the park

Truthfully I don’t think he cares about grades too much for himself and this extends to you too. He doesn’t get why you’re so concerned, and his dad (I’m pretty sure form what we’ve seen so far) is really nice and laidback so it’s not like he’s ever being reprimanded so he’s also partfully angry at your parents bc they made u upset

Like rlly angry LMAO and as ur ranting to him ab how they yelled at u for bad grades he’s just like one day… one day he’s gna fight them 😐 he doesn’t make exceptions. He might tell u to tell them to watch out LMAO but he says it so dead seriously and u laugh but wonder if he’s even joking ?

He’s like okay well have u considered: running away

And u quickly dismiss that idea too bc u have nowhere to go and it’s literally just them scolding u ur like it’s not THAT srs... I’m just upset and he’s like u have a place to sta... nvm he’s not gonna b sweet if it’s not like absolutely necessary LOL

Bc of his lack of understanding or just overall interest in this kind of stuff, he just listens to u bc his advice clearly wasn’t cutting it for u.

He asks to see the grade and u hand him the test or the grade folder and it if ur grades weren’t even that bad, he’s gonna get frustrated w you and be like u have gotta b kidding me this is what ur stressed about 😐 what ur parents yelled at u for?? And he smacks u on the side of ur head and is like please tell me ur joking these are good. Anything above a C in his eyes is still really good

If ur grades were a D, he’s like neutral like okay yeah it was kinda bad but not the worst, don’t stress about it I’ve gotten tons of D’s.

And if it was an F he’s like oh okay yeah it was pretty bad like I get it. But this would just make things worse and ur like ur right I did so baaad and he’s like nonono oh no it’s not like that and he like stiffens and goes quiet when u get misty eyed I guess and wonders once again why this is so serious to you?? Who cares about grades?

He probably gets mad ur letting other ppl control ur life. We’ve seen that he hates other ppl living their lives for others or by others rules and he’s kinda frustrated at you and wishes he could just take over u for a day or something and tell ur parents off and ur talking about it and he’s narrowing his eyes at you but ur clearly upset so he’s not gonna yell at u rn. When u feel better ab this he probably will tell you to stop living by others standards but for now he’s kinda lost

He tries to convince u to rise up against ur parents and is like “are u gonna keep letting people in ur life control u?!” And it’s like a motivational pep talk and ur like “no!” And he’s like “are you gonna let THEM yell at you and hurt YOUR feelings?! Cause I sure as hell am not!” And ur getting more energetic and r like “me neither!” And he’s like “are you gonna let ur own PARENTS talk to YOU like that?!” And u go “no!!” Nd he’s like “we r sick of it!!” And u go “ya we r 😭” and then he thinks ur on board so he’s like good!! Let’s go beat ur parents

And ur like “what” and he realizes u weren’t on the same page the entire time so he eventually bedgrudginly will lie that idea go

And he tells you this, like he says it won’t matter in seven years, right?? So why does it matter? Pls cheer up and be doesnt outright say this but he’s like “don’t worry ur pretty little head about it” or something to cheer u up

If it works and he successfully consoles u he is rlly happy and doesn’t show it but he’ll shove his hands in his pockets and go “see?? I told you. I’m good at this advice thing.”

If it doesn’t, he’ll try to take ur mind off it and he probably just shows u his spinning back kick or something LMAO or take u to the dojo so u can either do stuff w him or just watch

But if u tell him what ur upset about isn’t grades but ur parents, he’ll listen to u tell him what they told u if it was mean or strict and if it’s rlly bad his eyes will go bloodshot and he’ll roll up his sleeves and be like okay let me at them then

Literally don’t even JOKE ab him beating up ur parents he will do it 😭😭 and worse thing is he’ll WIN. Don’t even be like “yeah I wish u would beat them up for me” bc he doesn’t draw the line between u joking and him actually doing it probably. Even if he knows ur joking, which he will bc he’s not dense he’ll use it against u and be like u have me permission and suddenly ur the instigator

He listens to u rant about them if u just want a listener and he can probably tell by ur body language… like If ur clearly wanting advice, he’ll offer u the best he can and will tell you to stick up for yourself or, if you’re really upset he’ll even consider talking to them for u. No fists to his chagrin but he’ll advocate for u and he won’t plan beforehand at all he’ll just say “I think u need 2 be nicer to ur child.” And will be like “this shit doesn’t even matter anyways” and will rip the test paper in front of them so this option is obviously not even a choice for you

If u start to cry he’ll first awkwardly do that thing that people do when they don’t know how to console someone and rub your arm and he’s like “Uhh, do u want water?” Bc he’s sad bc UR sad and doesn’t know what to do and it’s like what he’s doing isn’t that helpful but the tone in his voice is v consoling and comforting bc he’s suddenly kinda quiet 4 once

If ur sobbing he’ll hold u and u cry into his shirt and later he’ll talk about how you got it all wet but like when he goes home in the mirror and sees the tear stains it reminds him ur hurt and breaks his heart

He will study with you. And by studying it’s just him like sitting with you while you study. He doesn’t think you should study but if that’s how you want to solve this and feel better he’s down. He won’t read anything but if u have flash cards he will read them back to you and ask u questions and he doesn’t know the right answer himself (unless it’s math he’s probably rlly rlly good at math.) so u have to write them on the back. But he’s pretty good at helping u study

And if ur doing flash cards, he won’t tell u the answer until u guess it and he’s good at hinting to it and he gets annoyed VERY easily when ur not saying the answer u wrote on the back but bites it down

If ur parents make u stay home more and study as like a consequence of gettig a bad grade, he won’t have any of it

He will either confront ur parents and that either makes things somewhat better or incredibly worse

So if that’s what happens he’ll text u a lot and face time u in secret and call u a lot so even tho ur not together, every time u come home from school and open a book ur phone is hidden in the bend of it and ur fting and sometimes u don’t even talk he’s just FaceTiming u so u won’t b alone while u study and bc he misses u

Overall, he really couldn’t give a shit about grades but if need be, he’ll help u with urs, he’d be the best math tutor if ur looking, if ur parents lock u up a lot to study more bc they’re mad he will use any other option to see u, and he’ll try his best to console u despite not being that knowledgeable or understanding why you’re upset. His go to comfort option is distraction, but if it’s futile he’ll do whatever it is u wanna do. If u thank him for helping u he’ll kick something and will b like “yeah whatever I was just sick of u moping around.”

JIYEON WOO

He understands what’s going on with you all too well. When you tell him ur parents scolded u bc u didn’t do so hot in a test or ur overall grades this semester, it’s like his heart is a weight that drops into his stomach and ties his intestine into a huge knot. Like he feels the dread set in

He’s takes a muuuuchhhh more calm approach than Taehoon tbh, like while ur talking he won’t say a word and will listen. He is SUCHHH a good listener and especially now he’s just staring at you and nodding his head to let you know he’s listening to make sure u know that like he is there and present and if ur sad he’s sad too like u guys r a “team”

While ur venting, if u begin to cry he’ll let u and he’s more of a “rub-ur-back-soothingly” type of consoler so he’ll do that and if u half hug him he’ll continue do it but he’s looking at u w the saddest eyes in the world ☹️

Doesn’t rlly know what to do at first besides listen and b nice

He might even get misty eyed with u too bc he understands so much. But he won’t bring up his home situation at ALL, it’s like ur stage and he’s just a listener, he won’t make u feel like he’s comparing ur pain

His fist clenched at his side because he’s angry at your parents AND his and he’s imagining what ur parents said in his mind and even if it wasn’t that bad, he’s fuming

He might even offer to run away w u too and he “knows a place” 😭and ur like omg it’s not that bad but after reminiscing on his own home life he just assumes you’re as sick of it as him

If you’re his s/o, you obviously know about his YouTube streams, so that week at the end of every stream he’ll take a risk and unmute it and go “and don’t worry about grades too much, guys :)” and ur “guys”

Either that or he’ll do something so he will stop streaming completely for that week bc it might make u feel like he’s rubbing it in ur face how much he studies nd how studious he is and yes it gets him in trouble w his dad but when u start to feel better ab ur grades and u smile and he’s like “I thought u were upset?” And u say “oh, yeah… I’m feeling better now :)” it’s all worth it

Since he’s so consumed w streaming if u weren’t able to ever meet in person, and u had to FaceTime or text him, he probably spams u and u guys have to text at like 3am bc he’s studying all other hours of the day so he’s under his covers and reading or calling u

Like it goes

‘My parents got mad at me bc I got bad grades :(((‘ and then he sees the text he reads it and then again and is like oh no bc is it like his situation???

And then u go get a snack or something and go MIA during texting but he doesn’t know that so he spams u bc he thinks that maybe ur parents took ur phone and r locking u up like his did him so he’s like

‘Are you okay?’

‘Hello…?’

‘Where did you go? :(‘

‘Are you okay?’

‘Please be okay…’

‘(Y/n)?’

And if he suspects ur parents took ur phone and r gonna read this he sends things a very lengthy and persuasive text that explains why this is cruel and unusual and to PLS give u ur phone back and then it says seen and ur like it’s still me :)) I’m okay but thx for worrying 😭❤️

And he’s like ‘thank god…’

Since he’s a part of that newtube company (XY or something? I forgot HAHA), he has connections honestly??? So if you’re that torn over this grade he might try and pull some strings to improve your grade, make classes easier or to reach your parents even. Like he affects his parents’ boss which then butterfly effects to you

Assures you that grades aren’t that important, or tries to, but it’s so horrible coming from him because he has such good grades and it always is gonna feel like he’s just saying that no matter what

If he could he’d fail a test too to make u feel better and like ur in it together but his dad would MURDER him. So he just tries to tell u it’s okay and graders aren’t that bad

If ur mostly upset over the bad grade, he’s like it’s fine, and even if it’s a grade he genuinely considers bad he’ll look at it like “...” before going this is fine too!! :) and in his mind he’s like if I got this my dad would kill me but would NOT tell you that EVERRR. He’s gonna do anything to preserve ur feeling rn and the next few weeks he’s especially nice to u

Will study with you to make you feel better but it’s hard because he’s really far ahead tbh :(( like he explains assuming u already have some ground knowledge. BUT he’s really good at being patient so if ur like I don’t understand and get frustrated he’s like “oh I’m sorry!!! Here, I’ll go over it again.”

U guys start spending time at the library and when his dad questions him he’s like I’m studying and he really is and it’s like a study date and it actually ends up being RLLY fun

Might even print u worksheets and stuff and leaves nice notes on them when he gives them to u like every chapter has another ‘u can do it’ of ‘ur already here?! Omg! Ur far ahead keep going!’ And lots of smiley faces and hearts in the margins

He is not above helping u cheat. He will give u answers in school, risking being caught nd getting in trouble, like he’ll find a way to sit as close to u as possible in class and “drop” his pen besides u that just happens to have a paper inside with all of the answers!!!!

And when you see it you’re so happy and you look at him and wink trying it be inconspicuous and it’s so obvious and he’s like omg (y/n) pls… but he’s happy ur happy and ur grades improve so much bc he gets every answer right and so of course you are getting them right too

But u both plan on u getting a few wrong to avoid suspicion and he’s so happy when ur happy bc ur grades improve so he’ll start sending u the HW, too

Will send u just study notes if u don’t want to cheat and they r so good and he’ll also send u his flash cards and everything and lend u notes from the past

He knows ur YouTube username so if u start to study a lot more bc of ur parents’ scolding and watch his streams to “study” w him despite the million viewers it’s like it’s just u nd him and when u comment like “here bc my parents yelled @ me and now im trying to improve my grades” he is simultaneously v happy ur there but also heart broken

If it’s mainly ur parents scolding u ur upset about, he’ll listen to u talk about it for hours on end over text, FaceTime, call, etc.

Makes a joke ab sending ur parents to the nursing home he volunteers at to cheer u up 😭😭 it either makes u son harder or laugh

Overall, he cares LOTS about grades, but his not urs. And if ur worried ab getting a job he’s like dw I’ll cover u in the future :)) and he’s very understanding bc he’s in a very similar situation and hates seeing u suffer like that or go thru that even if it’s genuinely not that bad. If u cry his works just SHATTERS and he’ll listen to u rant and cry for hours on end. And if ur grades were actually considerably bad, he won’t tell u that, and he’ll help u improve them bc THATS his solution to it and he’s good at helping u study. If ur not up to it he will help u cheat despite the danger of getting caught, so he can see u happy again :(( he’s rlly so sad ur going thru the same thing as him and will do anything to make it better. Won’t offer to fight ur parents but if need be he might rough one of them up if things escalate to really like mentally abusive-like proportions. But if it wasn’t that bad, he’ll just console u and help u to feel better no matter what !!

(Unedited)

I hope this came out well!! I’m so happy I’m getting how to fight requests tysm for that, <3 also it ended up kinda long and I lost my train of thought a few times but this felt like an emergency request and when I read those I like when they’re rlly long bc it distracts and comforts me. If it was one I hope ur okay and know u r more than ur grades!!!! ❤️❤️ ty for ur request :))

#Jiyeon Woo x reader #Seong Taehoon x reader #Jiyeon x reader #Taehoon x reader #How to fight x reader #Viral hit x reader #Taehun x reader #Seong Taehoon #Jiyeon Woo

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

can't un-sing a song that's sung.

Summary: The worst thing about it is that Derek isn’t even surprised when he gets the call.

Tags: drug use, overdose, hurt/comfort, guilty derek & hotch, angst with a hopeful ending, bedside vigils, protective derek & hotch NO MCD

Pairing: Gen (Platonic Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid; Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid)

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Major TWs, obviously. I'm just so angry that no-one did anything about Spencer's addiction in season two, so I decided to punish Derek and Hotch by having the (almost) worst-case scenario come to fruition. Fic inspired by this gifset & title from this poem (v short but v poignant) Fills the 'Overdose' square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card.

The worst thing about it is that Derek isn’t even surprised when he gets the call.

His heart sinks, of course, and his stomach feels like it bottoms out. His chest tightens and he struggles to breathe for a minute and a half, his hands clamming up as his tongue freezes and he can’t find the words to respond to Hotch over the phone. But he isn’t surprised. And that, when it really and truly comes down to it, is exactly where his sins lie.

He races as quickly as he can to the hospital, not obeying the traffic laws by any stretch of the imagination as his hands grip so tightly at the steering wheel that his knuckles turn white and the pattern of the leather; the seams where it's sewn imprint themselves on his palm. His heart pounds rapidly and it’s all he can hear, blood thudding in his ears as the tight knot of anxiety sits heavy in his stomach.

He’s just pulling into the hospital car park when he realises that the last time he felt like this — God, the last time he felt like this was when he first realised Spencer was missing all those months ago. He heaves a dry sob as he abandons his car in a space he hopes is the right one, and slams his palm down hard on the steering wheel once.

He allows himself one more guilt-ridden, heartbroken sob before he forces himself to calm down, doing his best to ignore the tumultuous emotions raging inside him as he shuts the car door behind him and hurries towards the entrance.

It’s hard not to cry when he first locks eyes on Hotch. Seeing his calm, stoic supervisor in a state of utter disarray — red-rimmed eyes, messed up hair, ruffled clothes — somehow makes this all seem a bit too real. Maybe in the car ride over he’d still clung to a small, pathetic bit of hope that this is all a nightmare, that he’ll wake up in a minute and he’ll drive to work and Spencer will already be at his desk, beavering away.

In the harsh lights and bustling noise of the hospital corridor, he knows that’s not going to happen.

They don’t say anything as they stare at one another, both clearly struggling to bite back the raw emotion threatening to spill from their eyes, to unleash itself in a full blown meltdown. Eventually, Hotch sits back down and buries his face in his hands, and Derek joins him on the little two-seater bench.

He doesn’t claim to know much about hospitals or medical care in general, but he knows for damn sure that waiting on a bench outside the ICU is not good, and he’s doing everything in his power to not think about that too hard.

They’ve been sat in stony silence for countless minutes before Derek finally lifts his head, though he still can’t bring himself to look at Hotch again. “Have you called the others?”

Hotch swallows, and Derek can see the tear-tracks trailing down the side of his face out of the corner of his eye. He pretends not to notice them.

“No,” he says, voice unsettlingly shaky. “Only you.”

He decides now is not the time to dwell on that. “Is he— is he going to lose his job?”

The only reason none of them had done anything sooner was because they knew how important this job is to Spencer. And Derek hates with a burning, roaring passion that their hesitation; their cowardly delay, might have cost him his life instead. Just the thought brings another choked sob from his lips, and this time the tears come with it. Before he knows it, his shoulders are shaking violently and all the emotions Derek is struggling to name finally come pouring out, right into Hotch’s lap.

He feels an arm wrap around him and he’s too broken not to lean into it, seeking comfort from the one person in the entire world who can offer it right now. Falling apart in his superior’s arms is not how he saw his Thursday evening going, but he’s too exhausted to care.

By the time he finally pulls away, Hotch is crying too, and they sit a little closer on the bench.

“Spencer won’t lose his job,” he says determinedly, looking Derek in the eyes. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Derek knows that they will have to lie. Papers will be forged and Hotch will be backed into an impossible corner, and he knows that they could lose their jobs if they are ever found out. He doesn’t fucking care. They’ve already failed Spencer in a disgusting, immeasurable, utterly unforgivable way, and he’ll be damned if they ever do that again.

“Good,” he says, and that’s the end of that.

Derek doesn’t understand most of what the doctor tells them, but he doesn’t really care that much for the technicalities anyway. All he cares about is that Spencer had overdosed in the parking garage of his building and was found by a neighbour he doesn’t even know that well. He cares that a damn near stranger was there for Spencer when he wasn’t, and he cares that Hotch was called as his emergency contact, and as such, Derek can finally step up. He can walk into his room and hold his hand and tell him that he’s here now, and he’s not leaving again.

He cares that Spencer is going to be okay.

He’s still asleep when they’re finally allowed to take their seats by his bedside, and Derek tries very hard not to cry at the sight of him, but it isn’t easy. There’s still a bluish tint to his fingernails, and he looks pale and clammy under the oxygen mask. Medicine drips slowly into the line connected to the cannula in the crook of his elbow, and the heart rate echoing out from the monitors is still alarmingly quick.

The evidence of Derek’s failings is staring him right in the face, and it’s hard not to turn away, but he refuses to let himself. He has a lot to make up to Spencer, but he can damn well start by sitting with him here in his darkest hour.

“We all knew.”

Derek looks up from Spencer’s hand to meet Hotch’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“We all knew, and we didn’t do anything about it.” The guilt in Hotch’s voice is momentous enough to rival Derek’s own, and it hurts to hear. Derek failed Spencer as a colleague and a friend-maybe-something-more, but Hotch failed him as a father figure.

He feels tears well up in his eyes again and he does his best to swallow them back down. “Emily did.”

A violent sob tears itself out of Hotch’s lungs, and it’s so loud that Derek almost flinches. “And isn’t that just so much worse? She barely knows him! I met him at lunch with Gideon when he was nineteen, I’ve known him for seven years! Before all of this went down, he almost called me ‘dad’. And I sat back and watched him suffer with both the PTSD of being kidnapped and the fucking heroin addiction he developed because of that bastard, and I did nothing!”

Derek’s at a loss as he watches Hotch break down in front of him, his voice breaking as he shouts, tears streaming down his face as he dissolves into sobs.

“He’s never gonna forgive me. Nor should he. I can’t stand myself right now.”

A little uncertain of the right thing to do, Derek stands up and crosses to the other side of the bed and wraps his arms around Hotch like he did for him only hours earlier. “We all fucked up,” he agrees, “but we’ll get through this. We might never forgive ourselves, but we can always do better. We can do right by Spencer as he recovers, we can help him get clean, help him keep his job, remind him of how loved he is. We can’t abandon that duty just because we failed at doing it before.”

Hotch sits back up and wipes at his eyes furiously, casting his eyes on Spencer. He reaches a hand out and brushes it through his short but untamed curls tenderly, his thumb caressing his eyebrow and forehead gently.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I won’t fail him again.”

Both Derek and Hotch spring into action as soon as Spencer stirs, waking up slowly through the layers of sleep until he’s staring at both of them with a look of terrified uncomprehension in his eyes.

“Hey,” Hotch says softly, hand moving to cup the side of his face. “You’re alright, you’re safe. You’re in the hospital with me and Derek, and everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Spencer slowly looks around the room as the realisation of what’s going on slowly dawns on him, and soon the anxiety is replaced with abject horror and to Derek’s dismay, he immediately starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, pretty boy,” he murmurs as soothingly as he can, following Hotch’s suit and tangling his fingers in Spencer’s hair. “Don’t worry about anything right now, okay? Hotch and I are gonna fix everything right up, and we’re gonna help you. We’re gonna help you like we should’ve helped you before.”

He hates that he loses his composure slightly at the end, but Spencer relaxes slightly so he takes it as a win.

“You can go back to sleep now, Spencer,” Hotch says gently, spotting the signs of exhaustion easily. “We’re gonna stay right here with you, okay? We’ll be here when you wake up.”

When he does finally awaken again, he explains through tears and strangled breaths that he didn’t mean to, that he wasn’t trying to die, he was just so tired and in so much pain that he hadn’t calculated the dosage right.

Hotch and Derek calmly explain that they’re not judging him, and that they’re going to help him through the hospital’s rehab program. Spencer refuses their apologies but they repeat them anyway, trying not to show just how much they hate themselves as they do.

They rope Penelope in, and she helps them make sure Spencer keeps his job, but otherwise their team is entirely oblivious to their chaotic and regret-filled Saturday night spent in George Washington University Hospital.

Most of all, though, Derek does absolutely everything in his power to make sure Spencer is happy, no matter how torn-up and scarred he might feel when he goes home to his own apartment. It isn’t much compared to his property business and his coveted role at the FBI’s behavioural analysis unit, but to Derek it’s his most important and worthy mission in life.

And if that spirals into something more, well. Maybe that’s just one good thing to come out of that small, stuffy, heartbreak-riddled ICU room.

taglist: @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids (add yourself to my taglist via this form!!)

#my writing #spencer reid #derek morgan #hurt spencer reid #spencer reid whump #tw drugs #tw substances #tw dilaudid arc #tw drug use #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal midns gen fic #derek morgan & spencer reid #aaron hotchner & spencer reid

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whumperooni · 4 years

Note

pls imagine that after natsuo decided to get revenge and became a fuckboy he also gradually started to get farther away from his cutie of a lil sister! he brings home some bitchy bimbos to fuck and doesn't even notice her anymore so little sister being the adorable thing she is, she becomes very upset and sad that her brother doesn't want her anymore, so who is better to take care of her then papa enji! i want to see natsus face when he realises his plan backfired in the worst way possible!

What else is a little sister supposed to do whenever her nii-chan abandons her? u.u

tw: incest, fuckboy!Natsuo, mentions of drinking and drugs

It starts with one drunk girl that doesn’t make it out on time before Enji can see her. Usually, Natsuo doesn’t bring women home- it feels like something he shouldn’t do; he can’t bring anyone back to that place.

(Not that he hasn’t had any other woman since entwining with you- how could he when he has such an adoring little sister to love and cherish and make squeal with pleasure? Why would he want anyone else?)

But that night? That night he just doesn’t care. Drunken from too many shots and too much cheap beer, he crashes with the girl he had somehow stumbled home with and, in the morning, he fucks her again through their mutual hangovers before sending her off to never come back again.

There’s a twinge of shame and guilt when he passes you in the hallway on the way to show his hookup out. Your wide eyes and disappointment prick at him like tiny needles, the pucker of your brow has him regretful. Whenever he nudges his hookup out of the house and comes back to you, asks you where you slept last night, the mumbled “Shoto-nii’s room” makes him feel even more guilty.

You only sleep in your brother’s long empty room whenever you’re feeling particularly lonely. Natsuo hates when you feel lonely- you should never feel lonely with him around.

He opens his mouth to tell you that he’ll make breakfast for you, that he’ll make up for last night, but he’s cut off whenever a gruff voice comes from behind him and says,

“Don’t bring whores into my house.”

In an instant, Natsuo’s regret gets flipped to rage- just the sound of Enji’s voice makes him want to snap and having him insult his hookup makes it even worse- and he glares at his father- mouth opening to argue only to be ignored as Enji turns around and lumbers off to the kitchen. He barely registers your shocked “daddy” that you gasp out- he’s too focused on his father and the annoyance that had been written all over the man’s face.

Fuck him, Natsuo thinks. Fuck. Him.

His anger is only quelled whenever your hand lightly, nervously touches his and he looks back at you to see your worried expression. It takes a moment for him to calm- lips pressing together and a long, deep breath needed- but he does and he swallows back his anger, his headache to force a small smile your way.

“Have you had breakfast? I’ll make you something.”

A mumbled thank you, nii-san and your fingers lacing through his helps soothe the rest of the lingering irritation. Natsuo tugs you to the kitchen and he tries to forget his father’s face and the satisfaction that had flicked through his anger over it.

──────────────────────────────────────

He brings home another girl a month or two later. It’s not something he sets out to do, no.

But it happens. And the morning after is just about the same as the previous time- only with you more upset when you spot the hickeys all over the girl’s neck and Enji’s glare darker than before, his irritation more pronounced.

The third time is on purpose- something he seeks to do in a tipsy, vindictive rage after a particularly nasty argument with Enji.

He brings home another girl- someone dumb and sweet and just a little trashy- and he fucks her with the intention of making her scream for him, spending the night making her moans fill the estate.

You can’t look him in the eyes in the morning, but he feels no guilt- only satisfaction over the fury on Enji’s face and the way his hands clench and unclench from trying not to slug his son in front of his upset daughter.

Another nasty fight- one that you get caught in.

“-a goddamn disgrace. You think your sister needs to see this? How do you think this looks on me when you’re going around acting like a fool? I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you-”

“Daddy, please! It’s okay! Please don’t-”

“-I’m a disgrace?! That’s rich coming from you. You parade around acting like you’re so superior but all you are is-”

“Natsuo-nii! Please stop! Daddy doesn’t mean-”

“Don’t you turn this around on me, boy.”

In the end, Natsuo stomps off with red cheeks and gritted teeth- turning his back on his glaring father and his teary eyed little sister.

He stomps off and all he can think is I’ll show you a goddamn disgrace.

──────────────────────────────────────

Life for Natsuo quickly becomes a mess of clubs, hookups, hangovers, and arguments. With every girl he brings home, his father only gets more and more angry- fire bursting out in quick jets when he finds a pair of discarded panties on the lawn, some dumb slut eating at the table draped over his son’s lap, vodka bottles and condoms in the trash.

The fights get worse and worse. Natsuo starts staying away from home- only coming back to drag some girl home to rile his father up and to sometimes spend time with you whenever his guilt over your tears and upset becomes too much. He makes new friends with this new direction in life- crude boys he used to stay away from, men who fondle their girl’s tits right in front of everyone while talking about weed and parties and who has access to molly, who can get good coke.

They’re bad influences. He knows it. He knows.

But he doesn’t stay away from them. Soon enough he’s drawn into partying along with clubbing- weed and booze and more and more giggling sluts that want to ride his dick, suck him off.

One night he gets drunk enough to steal his father’s credit card and buy henny for everyone, weed and an obnoxiously expensive dinner, a solid gold chain that his flavor for the night talks him into buying despite Natsuo never wearing something like that before.

He doesn’t go home that night, but he ends up in someone’s penthouse and wakes up at four in the afternoon- classes missed and a whole block of time missing from his memory. It’s only when he checks his phone that he realizes what all has happened- snapchat showing him reeling and laughing, joking about his father’s money being blown.

It also shows him getting some sloppy head in some restroom he can’t remember. It shows him, too, that he had filmed a girl riding his dick- that he had spanked her ass and turned his phone around to show the world a drunken grin and bloodshot eyes, a gold chain around his neck.

Watching it is surreal. He knows that it’s him doing all those things, but he just can’t quite connect it at the same time. He’s never been into that stuff before- he’s never wanted to be into that stuff before. It makes something bitter and uneasy settle on his tongue, something uncomfortable weigh down his stomach.

He tries to ignore it and he checks the rest of his notifications- quickly swiping away Fuyumi’s worried texts and the messages on snapchat. There’s nothing from his father to be seen and that’s a relief that he pretends he doesn’t feel.

There is a little popup that sounds during his scrolling that shows that you’ve posted and Natsuo opens it almost absently, blinks whenever he sees a photo of a nice lunch captioned with Lunch with daddy💕

The daddy makes him scowl, but something in him twinges- guilt, a touch of sadness. He can’t remember the last time he talked to you, the last time he held you close. He used to be with you daily- hands holding yours, kisses pressed to your cheek and lips and forehead often, your cuddly body warming his late at night and holding him snug inside after a sweet ravishing. It’s been so long since he’s been with his little sister- it almost feels like that past affection had been a dream.

Guilt eats away at him and Natsuo runs his hand through his hair, buries his face into his palms after.

What have you been doing while he’s been fucking around? Sleeping in his bed because you miss him? Seeking comfort somewhere else- with someone else? Who has been taking care of you?

Your lunch post flashes through his mind and Natsuo feels sick then- knots twisting in his stomach whenever he thinks about who else you love in your life.

The last time he had been at home, you had clung to Enji- barely trying to break up the fight and sniffling through it, burying your face into your father’s chest.

You had clung to him then- are you clinging to him now?

Natsuo swallows and he stands from the bed, ignores the sleepy mumble that sounds off behind him.

It’s robotic how he dresses and drives home- sunglasses doing nothing to prevent a throbbing headache as he clenches the steering wheel and tries not to throw up last night’s indulgence all over his lap.

Getting home makes his stomach feel even worse, but he pushes it all down and forces himself to walk inside the house- mind racing as he tries to think of where you could be right now.

He finds out whenever he hears a loud gasp and a moan of “daddy.”

He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to see. His body and mind don’t connect, though, and his feet move automatically- one in front of the other until he’s in the doorway of the kitchen.

There’s flour on the floor from where it’s been knocked off the counter. Plates in the sink and magnets on the fridge he doesn’t remember ever seeing. A new mixer tucked away in the corner and daffodils in a vase on the windowsill.

And there’s you too- perched on the counter with your apron and the skirt of your sundress flipped up, mouth open with a cry, cheeks flushed pretty and sweet as Enji curls his thick fingers inside your cunny.

“D-Daddy! Please! More!”

“Shh; I’ve got you, little one.”

Bile rises in Natsuo’s throat as he watches you mewl and arch- hands reaching for your father and lips pressing against his needily whenever he gathers you in his arms and starts to slowly slip inside of you.

“L-love you, daddy,” you sob. “Love you- please- please don’t ever- don’t leave me...”

“I will never leave you, little one,” Enji promises gruffly as he spreads you apart and makes you whimper. “Never.”

Turquoise eyes flit to the side and Natsuo freezes in the doorway whenever they lock onto his - heart breaking and shame flooding through him in thick, hot waves when his sweet, sweet little sister who he loves and has neglected begins to mewl “daddy, daddy, daddy!”

Tears prick at Natsuo and he turns from the kitchen- walks away with a hand covering his mouth and his body bent forward as he struggles not to heave.

He drove you into Enji’s arms. He drove his sweet, beloved little sister into the arms of the man he hates the most. He neglected you for what- bimbos and booze and petty revenge?

God, he’s so fucking stupid.

Natsuo stumbles into the bathroom and he grips the sink tight- eyes wet and bloodshot whenever he looks in the mirror, face pale and neck mottled with hickeys, the stupid chain mocking him as it shines in the light of the bathroom. Far off, he can hear you moaning and Natsuo grits his teeth as he glares at himself in the mirror.

He really is a disgrace.

#enji todoroki x reader #natsuo todoroki x reader #natsuo x reader #tw incest #rooni's shit #fuckboy!natsuo #todoroki degens #this went in an entirely different direction than i meant #oops #i was going to have it from reader-chan's pov but i wanted natsuo's self-hatred evident in the end #maybe i'll rewrite it from reader's pov someday #Anonymous

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ct7567329 · 3 years

Text

Everything I’ve Ever Wanted: Hevy x Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Female Reader, Probably the 2nd worst thing I’ve ever written.

Word Count: 4.1k (Sorry)

It was another rainy day on Kamino and you found yourself twisting around a small piece of fabric between your fingers as you leaned over the training arena. While other padawans got to explore the galaxy, study holocrons or improve their saber skills, you were stuck on Kamino overlooking the training of clones. You couldn't imagine a worse way to go through apprenticeship but it wasn'tymour choice. Shaak Ti chose you as a padawan, and you had to obey her wishes.

Quickly, your master realized you were a trouble maker. She would always tell you how much you reminder her of late Jedi Master Rael Averross, but she never bothered to explain what that entailed. The only detail she shared was that it meant you were always up for a challenge, which is why she assigned you to help the Domino Squad out.

At a first glance, the Domino Squad seemed like a typical squad of clones. But they acted more like bickering brothers rather than brothers in arms. A typical day of their additional training you provided was usually late night bonding, not necessarily fighting tactics. The boys didn't seem to mind this, except one. CT-782.

CT-782 was the most stubborn clone you've ever met. He refused to have a name other than his CT number, which you constantly told him wouldn't fly with any general. CT-782, of course, didn't care.

One night, you decided a game of 'Who's most likely to?' as a bonding exercise.

CT-782 picked up a card and read it aloud, "Who's most likely to pierce their own ear? This game is kriffing bantha shit!" He flung the card across the room, "How's this going to help us," he passed for a moment before bitterly muttering the last word, "padawan?"

You rested your elbow on your knee and pressed your palm into your forehead, sighing, "Your final test is in three days. This is my last session with you guys. Can you please, please for once take my considerations?" CT-782 got on your last nerve, but something about that drove you crazy inside, in an almost lusty fashion.

"On behalf of all of us, Commander, we deeply apologize for CT-782's unkind words towards you," Cutup said, giving you a look of sorrow.

Figuring you could make a lesson out of this, you replied, "You control and dictate your lives and those of the people around you. Remember, when you are cast out to war, you have each other. Don't do something you know can effect your brothers in a negative way. Back when I was a youngling, my squad would always say 'teamwork makes the dreamwork'. Now, I'm sure you've all dreamed of being an ARC Trooper. Well, ARC Troopers always respect and care for those around them, especially their brothers. Remember that boys, because once you master that, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, you all have ARC Trooper capabilities."

This made all of the men smile, except for CT-782 of course.

"Oh yeah. Coax us with dreaming of being an ARC Trooper right before deployment. I guarantee you sweetheart, we'll all be dead within three fights. Just like the rest of us," CT-782 huffed, his arms crossed, "If you're a Jedi, then why can't you give us real training. Something that will actually help us become ARC troopers."

You weren't going to win with him, "You treat everything so heavy. I promise you, everything I've done has done something. Take everything I say with a grain of salt and I promise, you'll end up exactly where you need to be.

Three days later, CT-782 was convinced you've lied to him. Watching the Domino Squad fail their final test pained you. You looked at your master with sorrow in your eyes, "My Padawan, inform the Domino Squad they will be allowed to try again tomorrow."

You nodded, "Of course, Master."

When you made it to their barracks, it was completely empty. Not a single sign of the Domino Squad. Figuring they were eating in the mess or something like that, you left a holopad on all of their bunks with the message from your Master, along with some words of encouragement, personalized for each guy. It was the least you could do.

Later that night, you returned on their barracks to leave another holopad with good luck in their lockers. As you turned the corner to their allotted locker area, you found CT-782 digging through his locker.

"Going somewhere?" you asked, clearly startling him.

He sighed when his eyes met yours, "As far away from here as possible."

You pressed your lips together, "I should report you, but I don't want to do that to you. Here sit down." You patted the bench that was in the middle of their locker area. He was hesitant, but he agreed and sat down next to you.

"Why aren't we good enough?" he asked, setting his Z-6 blaster on the ground, "we all get the same training."

"You could give one thousand men the same training, but you will never have those thousand men fight the same way." you calmly stated, crossing your legs, "Every squad has a different dynamic."

He grunted, "And ours clearly isn't up to your expectations."

"Hevy," you sighed, "I promise you, you all have amazing potential. I wouldn't lie about that."

CT-782 cocked his head, "What?"

"I said you all have amazing potent-"

"No before that," he interrupted you.

You thought back to what you said, "Every squad had a different dynamic?"

"No after that."

"I'm confused?"

He rolled his eyes, "You called me Hevy?"

Then it clicked, "Ohh! That's what General Ti and I call you. We prefer to give our troopers names."

"Hevy, huh?" he huffed, "I think I actually like that. Makes it more special since you gave it to me."

You hummed stiffly between your lips, "So you don't hate me."

He paused. "Why do you have faith in us? In me?"

"Because you're an amazing person, Hevy, inside and out," you answered without thinking.

You didn't realize what you said until Hevy's cheeks became slightly flustered. "I need to go. Good luck tomorrow," you quickly covered yourself up, heading out of the barracks. Hevy remained sitting on the bench, stunned with what he just heard. But now wasn't the time to let feelings getting the way of the upcoming test.

The next morning, you were staring down at the testing arena, eyes locked on the entry way. The Domino Squad was next in line to test. When they finally entered the arena, you stiffened up, anxious of what was soon to come. What usually was a jumble of blaster fire and running into each other was actually an impressive display of skills. For once, it seemed as if the boys were actually fighting together, not just as individuals.

And moments later, Hevy pulled the citadel buzzer out of its place. They actually passed. You felt the weight of not knowing their future slide off your shoulders. They kriffing did it. Hevy ripped off his helmet and looked up at the observation deck, making eye contact, then playfully saluting you. You smiled in response, and gave him a loose salute back.

Later that night, you met up with the Domino Squad in their barracks to congratulate them with their medals. Slowly, you pinned each medal to their cadet uniform.

"I'm proud of you all," you announced, "I'm certain you will accomplish amazing things. I'm probably standing in front of some future ARC troopers."

Hevy and Fives beamed with joy at the mention of them possibly beaming ARCs in the future.

"Don't get too lonely here without us!" Echo chimed in, "We will all miss you greatly."

You brought you hand up to your mouth to try to conceal you soft smile, "I'm leaving too, you know. Off to help command the 212th legion. Which reminds me, I have a meeting soon with General Kenobi. Again, congratulations boys," you began to walk away, "Until we meet again!"

The boys sighed, knowing they would probably never see you again. Hevy wasn't ready for that. Hours later, when the boys were winding down for bed, he snuck out of his bunk and wandered the halls of his home. As he was walking, he realized that he actually didn't know where the Jedi stayed. His head quickly turned to a corridor. You were down there, he felt it.

After taking a deep breath, he opened knocked on the door he believed to be yours. It was a gentle knock, but loud enough for you to hear on the inside.

The knock on the door threw you off guard for a moment. You hastily got up off your bed and sat at your desk, turning on a random holopad. After you felt as if you looked 'presentable enough' for the unknown knocker, you used the force to open the door. A small "huh?" escaped your lips as you saw it was Hevy there.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" you asked as Hevy entered the room, hitting the close button behind him, "what brings you in here?"

Hevy shrugged, "I guess I wasn't ready to say goodbye."

"Take a seat," you offered, pointing to your couch. He was fast to take up that offer. You continued, "I do recall saying, 'Until we meet again'."

"That's true," he nodded, "I just-" Hevy opened his mouth to continue, then shut it, then opened again, nothing coming out. "I'm sorry," was all he managed to say.

"For?"

"Treating you like Bantha breath. No one deserves that, especially you." Hevy bit the inside of his cheek and looked down, mumbling the next sentence, "I was just intimidated."

You raised an eyebrow, "Hm?"

Hevy sighed, "It'sHardToBeTheToughGuyWhenYou'reSurroundedBySuchABeautifulGirl." His words were quick, almost impossible to decipher.

"What now?" you hummed, leaning in closer to him to try to hear better.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly, but still bluntly.

Your face went pale as he started to exhale slowly. His eyes glanced up to meet yours. You saw through him. Reality hit you. The next day, Hevy ships out, shiny and new. The most vulnerable of the clones. You didn't know where he would end up, but truthfully, the chances he'd live to see many more days were painfully low.

Jedi weren't forbidden from kissing. They were forbidden from emotional attachment. What would mean nothing to you, would mean everything to him.

Why not give this soldier the experience of his lifetime?

You reached out towards his sleep tunic and grabbed some fabric in your fist, pulling him in for a kiss. It wasn't long, but it felt eternal. Hevy gasped before the kiss, shocked you actually were okay with it. When you pulled back he had a blank face. He was off the walls ecstatic that it actually happened but devastated it was over.

Hevy tried to speak but he was still tongue tied, completely in awe of the taste of your lips on his.

"You have a big day a head of you. Go get some sleep," you smiled, waiting for him to exit.

"I shouldn't have been so rude to you," he whispered, slowly backing out of your room, "you've been nothing but kind to me."

You shrugged, "Not too late to change that."

He stared at you in silence, softly nibbling on his lip. "I couldn't have been half the solider I am today with out you."

"Well," you sighed as Hevy stepped out of your quarters. He turned his head to acknowledge your words. You continued, "May the force be with you out there, Hevy. Cause I won't!" you winked, closing your door.

You paced back to your bed and laid down, staring at the ceiling.

Jedi can kiss without attachment! One kiss couldn't hurt, right?

Oh, you were so wrong.

Three Months Later

"General?" Commander Cody's voice buzzed through your com link.

"Cody!" you cheered, "So glad to hear your voice. What's going on?"

Just hours prior, the outpost Cody was sent to inspect, completely exploded. The second you got word of what happened, you knew Grievous was behind it, and you were worried over the status of your commander.

"You worry too much General," he laughed, "but I have some soldiers in the medbay who want to speak to you. They told me not to tell you their names."

"Huh. Weird," you shrugged, "I'll be on my way. If any of them were in that blast with you, I think I owe them a drink when we get to Coruscant."

It didn't take you long to get to the medbay. Though the Jedi cruiser was large, you always managed to quickly navigate the halls. You entered the medbay and looked for Cody. Cody was no where to be found. You walked into one of the private outpatient rooms and your eyes caught glimpse of other soldiers you recognized, even though they weren't in the 212th.

"Either I'm on death sticks or that's the Domino Squad!" you laughed, approaching them. They were all gathered around a single cot. The men turned their heads and smiled at the sight of you. That's when you realized that Hevy was the trooper on the cot.

"It was you crazy baffoons that blew up the Rishi Moon station!? Why am I not surprised?" your attention shifted to Hevy, "what happened to you?"

Hevy pulled down his blanket slightly and lifted up his left arm, which wasn't much of an arm anymore. What was his arm was gone, and replaced with a cybernetic arm. "It's nothing pretty, but at least they gave me a hand," he mumbled, pulling the blanket back up over his new arm.

You spent hours chatting with the dominos. It was obvious they missed having you by their side, but you reassured them, it was even more obvious that they are doing perfectly fine without you. As the later night hours approached, the dominos slowly left the room one by one until you were alone with Hevy.

Fives was the last to leave, and as soon as he did, the room fell silent. Hevy was scratching softly at his thigh with his good hand.

"General," he finally said, turning his head towards you.

"You can call me (Y/N)," you quickly interrupted, looking towards him.

He paused and pressed his back against the inclined cot. Even a pin drop could be heard in the room.

"I keep thinking about it," he finally said, his eyes looking at his lap.

You cocked your head, "about what?"

"It," he repeated, still gazing at his lap.

Oh. He was thinking about it. That kiss. That innocent kiss which you thought would be nothing more than make a man you would never see again happy. That.

"Me too," you mumbled, "Me kriffing too."

His glance shot in your direction. You sensed this and did the same.

"(Y/N)," he exhaled, his words full of lust.

As if you were a droid and it was your programming to do so, you stood up from the chair next to his cot and walked over to him. You slid your hand down his still human arm and settled your hand in his.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," you said again, "More than a Jedi should admit."

He shot you a passionate look and did that darn lip nibble again. As if his eyes requested you too do so, you pushed yourself onto the cot and straddled over him, sitting on his lap. As you did so, he cupped your cheek in his hand and sighed.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" he whispered.

You took a deep breath before answering, "I'm not sure, but as long as we keep going, I don't think I care."

One Year Later

Hevy was playing a card game with some of the other men in the 501st, talking about their plans at 79's later that evening when his Captain, Rex, burst into the barracks.

"Anyone holding the rank of Sergeant or higher, or any ARC's, meet me in the briefing room immediately. That is all."

Rex left the room as quickly as he came in, leaving dozens of puzzled looks behind him. Hevy adjusted his ARC pauldron and walked with the rest of the called upon men to the briefing room. Upon arriving there, the usually lit room was dark, the only thing lighting it up was the hologram of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his General, Anakin Skywalker. Hevy noticed that typically, you were by Kenobi's side Turing holotransmissions. He hasn't seen you in two whole years, but the feelings he had towards you were still there. Not seeing you in the transmission made his heart clench. He had a bad feeling about this.

"We regret to inform you all of the passing of Jedi General (Y/N) (Y/LN). We understand (Y/N) was well respected throughout many legions. We wanted to inform the ranked soldiers first."

Hevy's heart sank. You were gone. There were so many things he wanted to say to you that he would never get the opportunity to. The Jedi reported you missing months ago, but at that point, Hevy wasn't too worried. He knew you were strong enough to survive on your own. But dead, that didn't sit well with him. Hevy was fast to get back to the barracks, where he sat on his bunk in silence. He didn't want to go to 79's that night. All he wanted to do was fall asleep, he could wake up from this nightmare.

Hevy was awoken around 0100 to yelling from outside the barracks. He got up off his bunk to find the barracks empty. It seems as if everyone else went to 79's. The yelling got louder and was understandable the closer he got to the barracks door.

"It's not fair! Not to anyone!" Anakin screamed at his master.

"Anakin, the council did what they must." Obi-Wan responded, trying to calm him down, "(Y/N) is in a safer place."

Anakin grunted, "And we must lie to everyone? Tell everyone she's dead?! Rex said Cody is devastated. Is that fair?! Why can't they know the truth?!"

From that point on, the conversation was too muffled to hear more but it was all Hevy needed to hear.

The Next Morning

"Echo, I need your help," Hevy asked his brother, who was peacefully eating his breakfast.

"If it's about (Y/N) I'm upset too," Echo responded, "but we have an important campaign on Ryloth soon and-"

"Please," Hevy begged, motioning Echo away from his food.

Echo shoved the remaining food in his mouth and followed Hevy, "What is it?"

Hevy nodded his head towards Echo's cybernetic arm that he acquired after a rough mission at the Citadel, "You can tap into the data base with that, right?"

Nodding slowly, Echo inserted his arm into a data port, "What do you need?"

"Open up any information on (Y/N). If it's password protected, try 408588463003. Those are the coordinates of her home planet. "

"I should question why you know that," Echo laughed, but his laugh soon turned to dead silence. "Oh my kriff," he muttered, leaning back on his heels, "she's alive."

"Where can I find her?" Hevy gasped, almost shaking Echo impatiently.

Echo was going to ask why, but truthfully, he was too hungover to worry. All he knew is that this would be his little secret with Hevy, "I think you already know. 408588463003."

"Thank you, brother," he nodded before rushing off. Neither Hevy nor Echo knew, that would be the last time they would see each other for a while.

Stealing a ship wasn't easy, but if it had to be done, Hevy knew how to do it. It didn't take him long to find a ship that wasn't only easy enough to steal, but neutral enough to fly into Separatist space undetected. With the push of a new buttons, he was on his way to find the truth. He was on his way to Serenno.

Hevy has never been to Serenno before. Besides, why would he? It has been Separatist controlled since the beginning of the war. But, with its location being deep in Separatist space, it wasn't too hard to land on the planet. Hevy followed his heart, which led him to a wooded area, far from any civilization.

As he exited the small ship, he looked around for any signs of life. Surprisingly, he almost missed the most obvious sign, a door built into the mountain side. Without hesitation, he knocked.

You were bundled up in some blankets on the couch in your home. It's been almost a year since the Jedi Council sent you back to your home planet. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you understood why. Jedi couldn't get pregnant, yet there you were. You were given only two days to leave the temple and escape to Serenno, alone. Well, except for the medical droid the council was kind enough to provide for you.

For the first time all day, you finally managed to find some peace and quiet. If there was one thing you learned while raising twins, it was that there is never a dull moment. There was a knock on the door. No one ever can out here. You rushed to your children's room and locked it, making sure who ever was at the door wouldn't have access to them. Before opening the door, you draped a blanket over your shoulders to hide your lightsaber you kept on your belt.

Cautiously, you opened the door and nearly screamed at who you saw.

"How the KRIFF did you get out here?!" you yelled, pulling Hevy by the shirt into your house, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" Before he could answer, the cried of two babies filled the house. "Great!" you groaned, "the kids are awake!"

About a hundred questions swirled through Hevy's mind. "Kids?" he asked, following you into their bedroom. "Since when did you-" he stopped when he saw the two infants, "Why do they look like me?"

"Very funny Hevy," you huffed, "very-" you paused, "wait. No one ever told you."

Hevy raised an eyebrow, "No one ever told me what? Just two day ago, I was informed you were dead. About a year ago, I was told you went MIA!"

You deeply sighed and picked up your daughter and son, handing your daughter to Hevy. He reluctantly took the baby from you, this was his first time holding an infant. Hevy sat on the floor with your daughter while you sat on a rocking chair with your son.

"What other lies did the council tell you?" you huffed, rocking your son back and forth.

Hevy bit his cheek, "With all due respect, Gener-, I mean (Y/N), I have no idea what's going on."

That's when you explained everything to him. How on that night after the Rishi Moon Outpost explosion, you and Hevy made a decision that would hinder your relations with the Jedi Order forever. How the Jedi sent you to Serenno to try to protect you and your children. How the Jedi lied about your whereabouts to hide the secret. How these children where in fact his, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Hevy brushed his thumb against the little girl's, his little girl's, cheek as she slept peacefully in his arms. You smiled at the father daughter moment, the first father daughter moment.

"You can stay if you like," you finally said, "they are your children just as much as they are mine. And besides, they wouldn't exist if I didn't feel something towards you."

He slowly looked up, away from his daughter and towards you, "You mean that?"

You nodded, "Yeah, and we can pick up where we left off. Right before our paths separated for what I long thought would be the last time."

"I regret every rude thing I said to you on Kamino and I-"

"Hey," you hushed, "I know. But that's history. This is now. The present." You stood up from the rocking chair and sat next to Hevy, resting your head on his shoulder. "You know, nothing about us is conventional, but I think it might work."

Three Years Later

"Uncle Fives is going to get you!" Fives screamed, chasing your children around in the yard. After the Clone War ended in victory, you and Hevy decided to disclose your location to the rest of the Dominos, and they were more than happy to move in with you two. Echo insisted he only did it to be with his niece and nephew but Hevy knew it was because Echo missed his brother.

"Aghhh!" Fives laughed, throwing his nephew over his shoulder, "gotcha!"

You and Hevy watched Fives run around with your children while you cooked dinner. Hevy rested his head on your shoulder from behind and swayed back and forth.

"Hun stop!" you giggled, "I have to cook."

"I know," he smiled, "I'm just happy. And everything is exactly how I could have ever wanted it to be."

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#hevy x reader #clone x reader #ct782 #hevy #clone trooper hevy #domino squad #tcw #clone wars #ct7567329writes

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