#and his left arm that thing gets broken and torn to shreds at least once an arc

[tuesdayinthedas]

Redraw! Original is from over 7 years ago

[coffee-cupps]

Fear Won’t Strike Twice

Hurt! Donatello X GN! Reader

|Author note: Thank you for your request! I’ve always loved the concept of Donnie getting his soft shell scratched tf up. I had a blast with this and hope you enjoy it! This is based on Season 2 Episode 2, but the outcome of the attack on Donnie has been altered for plotline purposes.| EDIT: HELP I FORGOT TO PUT IT UNDER THE ASK, THIS IS FOR @queenwoomy

|WARNINGS: Lot’s of blood, Angsty shit, Donnie being a little bitch, Reader being a loving S/O, Angst, Hurt with comfort, Mentioned sex scene (Donnie is of age in this story), slight making out, Worried S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, Reader slaps tf out of Donnie|

|Word Count: 1,808 words/10,583 characters|

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯

        The concept of what was going on was almost too hard to grasp. The internal fear of what hit the ground- of who hit the ground with a sickening thud and a scream of pain stuck in your mind. And it will remain in your mind till the end of your days. At some point, you heard a shout; probably from Raphael, but you couldn’t tell; echo off the walls of the alleyway, making the remaining turtles turn to face what had happened to their beloved sassy brother. Before your broken form laid Donatello, covered in his own blood. His mask on his face was shredded, revealing a clawed-up face that was unsightly to anyone who saw it. His hands and arms harbored claw marks as well, the wounds deep enough to require stitches. But all of it was just child’s play. Your eyes shifted to his battle shel- where was his battle shell? Where was his battle shell?! 

        Looking around frantically, your eyes finally found the beloved piece of tech-or, what was left of it. The entire thing was ripped away from its owner and destroyed into what seemed like, millions of pieces. You dreaded returning your gaze to your boyfriend, heart-stopping as you spotted his ever-so-delicate shell. The ridges on the bottom of his shell were torn off, leaving some of the soft tissue exposed for everyone to see. Four long deep cuts; which punctured through his shell, reaching the delicate skin beneath; raked down the surface, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. You couldn’t see, eyesight blotched with spots of white, but you felt yourself get dragged away from your lover (Probably by Leonardo, you couldn’t tell) as you could hear Raphael and Michelangelo rush to Donnie. You remember you screamed, scratching Leo’s hands for him to let go of you so you could return to the blood-soaked turtle’s side. At some point, you got free, running back to your original spot, you needed to know he was ok, or at least alive. 

        Leo was quick on your tail, gaining his grip once again to pull you back once more, shouting at you, pleading you to calm down. To stay sane. You don’t remember much, knowing that you felt nothing, only pure rage. Rage that built up and made you shed hot tears that quickly rolled down your cheeks. Your eyesight left you, running off in your time of need, leaving you with blinding rage. You didn’t see Shredder running off towards the fireworks on the boat. You didn’t see the fear in all of the brother’s eyes. Mikey had never seen so much blood. He wasn’t smiling like his usual, playful self. He cried. Hard. Raph tried to stay strong. He was the leader, and right now they needed a leader, but his fear stink filled the alley. Leo, whilst holding you back, was probably scared the most. Seeing his beloved twin (though Donnie would disagree) laying limp in front of him. 

        You didn’t see them drag Donnie’s lifeless body to the manhole, delicate with him but rushing to save their brother. You didn’t see Splinter’s reaction, fear etched on his scrunched-up face, tears slowly beginning to fall at the sight of his second youngest son. You didn’t see S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N’s face, but could vaguely hear his worried sobs, lines of unspoken code reaching out, trying to communicate to his father. His maker.  

        Time moved so slowly. Too slow. The incident felt so long ago, but only a week has passed. You weren’t allowed to see Donnie, weren’t even allowed to be near the room he was held in, and it hurt. While time passed, you and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N kept each other company. You never left the lair to go home, besides on the first day, when you left to bring stuff to stay in the lair for however long was needed. You slept in Donnie’s bed, Face always in the pillows, huffing his scent, which began to fade after the 4th day from lack of use from its owner. No one disturbed you, per your request. 

        At night, you would stay in his bedroom, and during days, you would be locked up in his lab. Not to build something, but to feel closer to him. You two would always have long talks about his fucked up sleep schedule after you found him asleep on his lab table, a newly-build battle shell in his clutches. You felt yourself chuckle softly at the memory that played in your mind. He would always say he would go the bed, but you learned over time that those words were just something to give you else hope as he would tinker away for another two hours. He would only stop when you would gently kiss him on his lips and softly lead him to his bed, detaching his battle shell and removing his mask while you set him down and climbed in with him, snuggling up to his soft plastron as he would share exciting news about his achievements softly while you would gently rub his back. 

        You missed him, even though he wasn’t dead. He was recovering and you were grateful, but you wished he would wake up from his medically induced coma so you could scold him angrily about how stupid he was. How stupid he was to scare you the way he did. You missed him so much. You missed his egotistical remarks, awkward hugs, and passionate kisses behind locked doors. You missed the way you two would make love. His ‘bad boy’ persona was left at the door as he would savor your skin, leaving your neck covered in dark purple splotches. He never thought of himself during sex, always making it his goal to satisfy your wants and needs, and never wanting anything in return. You longed for his soft touch again, to feel him in between your legs once more. You missed his soft moans, they always sounded like smooth silk waving through a gentle, warm summer breeze. You miss the way he held you after you both would clean up, keeping you as close as physically possible to his plastron. You missed the way he would quietly churr as you would softly rub his shell.

        In his absence, you shared Donnie’s plush bed with his son, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, his curling up into your chest, seeking your warmth. With how far you and Donatello’s relationship has god, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N has begun to call you his mother, which you didn’t mind in the slightest. You laid your hand gently on his metal back, slowly moving up to his ears, which you gave a gentle scratch just like how Donnie taught you when S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N was first created. You loved the little drone, seeing him as your son practically. He nuzzled into you, softly letting out mechanical purrs at your touch. He missed his father. For the first few days, he lay in denial, refusing to believe his father was gravely injured, but finally accepted it in the past few days and sought you out for comfort. You both sought each other. 

        Days went by, and you heard nothing about your lover’s condition from his brothers. They would come to check on you multiple times a day and make sure you were eating and showering, but when asked about Donatello, they remained quiet. Splinter locked himself away most days, only coming out at night to get food, and he lost his taste in the television, finding it boring while he remained locked up. No one heard a word from April, but that was expected, she didn’t take the news lightly. The brothers had their own way of grief, all involving violence and yelling. Sometimes Mikey would come to the lab and talk with you, try to keep your spirits up despite the attack. You enjoyed his company. It was needed.

        About 3 weeks have passed when you received a call from Leo. You never knew why he insisted on calling you instead of coming to you (it was probably because of your angry outbursts on everyone) but reluctantly, you picked it up. His voice was shaking, you couldn’t tell what emotion he was portraying but you just remember dropping your phone, picking S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N up quickly, and running to the medbay; leaving poor Leo on the phone, calling out your name. You ran like your life depended on it, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N asking what the hell you were doing before you both bolted through the medbay doors. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N  understood now. Laying on the bed, with a thick cast on his back, was Donnie. Awake and smiling softly at you. You dropped your ‘son’ as he let out a yelp of alarm and a string of coded curses. You ran to him and didn’t hesitate to jump on the bed, burying your face into his plastron as you released ugly sobs. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N  was beside you in an instant, showing his father about the same amount of affection as you did. You felt Donnie tilt you’re head up slightly before bringing your lips wet with tears to his chapped ones. You instantly melted into it, placing your arms around his neck, careful of his injury as your lips rolled against his in a fiery passion. You missed this. You missed him. Everything in that moment was just…perfect. Gently nibbling at your lip, Donnie made his way into your mouth, absorbing your flavor  like a starved man. With a soft moan, you felt his hands get slightly braver as they moved to cup your bottom before giving it a squeeze.

        “Ewww Dad”… S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N’s disgusted voice rung through the room as he pulled away, a slight blush present on his cheeks and neck. You chuckled softly before looking him in his eyes. He returned his gaze to you, smiling at you.

        “I missed yo-“. He was cut off by a harsh slap to his face. He revolted, lifting a hand to the place of impact.

        “How. Dare. You”. You snarled, placing your forehead against his, and grabbed his hand that was cradling his cheek, intertwining your fingers together. His face retorted from pain to confusion.

        “W-what”? More hot tears fell from your eyes.

        “How dare you scare me like that. Do you have any idea how fucking scared I was”? He looked away, a face full of shame. What could he say to make this better? You where pissed, scared, and concerned at the same time. You rested your head against his plastron again, silently sobbing as S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N nuzzled into your side. “I love you too much to let you go Donnie”.

        “I know babe, I love you too”.

[80s4life]

Little Dove*

Word Count: 3,949

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: Had a thought lol

Fandom: Karate Kid 1985

Relationship: John Kreese x Student!Female Reader

Summary: You had stayed around throughout all of his bullshit. Throughout the beginning of a forever-long battle with Daniel LaRusso, throughout losing all of his Cobra Kais, going through crippling debt, and now, more than ever, as he tries to put himself together. You’ve been there, the whole time. So why is it, that when a random man from his past appears, all of his problems are fixed without a glance your way? What does this Terry Silver have that you don’t (besides endless money and a history)? It’s unfair. It’s selfish. It’s Kreese.

Taglist: @intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Warnings: smut, teasing, jealousy, age-gap paring, language, Terry being an overprotective cockblock, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dubcon, daddy/little girl kink, degrading kink

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

{not my gif, credits belong to @atmostories​}

I just love how innocent he looks here lol ^

Staring into the window of his office, you make no attempt in engaging in the conversation your peers were having, the people on the other side of the glass proving to be more interesting at the moment. Besides, it’s the same conversation over and over again, “Terry’s so great,” “The money,” “The brawn,” “The elegance,” you snort. All that Terry was anyway was trouble with enough money to pay off his stupidity. 

The other man, however, was different. He did not become as fortunate as his younger companion. He went through many hardships that Terry would simply never understand. The proof: you. You had been there, through thick and thin. You can still remember the fights, injuries, and brokenness of a man like a slideshow constantly playing in your head, haunting your dreams. You should’ve left a long time ago, but you didn’t. There were points in your life that made you consider dropping him and everything he was in contact with at one point. But, yet again, you never did. All you did was forgive and forget, most of the time without apologies.

But no matter how much you’ve tried, there was always one outlier that couldn’t be erased. 

Holding onto your brothers shoulder, you congratulate him on how well he’d done. He lost the tournament, but it was his heart that shined through it. Johnny was the one who handed LaRusso his trophy even as they were beating each other senseless moments ago. Pulling him in tightly, you whisper, “You did good, Blondie. We’ll get ‘em next year.” 

He smiles broadly at this, returning the favor, “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Tiny. Hell, maybe next year, you’ll be the one to beat his ass for me... That, or you’ll be the same height as him,” he ruffles your hair.

“Shut up!” you swat his hands playfully, shouldering his side, then making your way over to the man of the hour. “Congratulations,” you outstretch your hand, “You were tough to beat! I’ll get ya one day though!” you point to him smiling as Johnny pulls you out of the arena with him.

“Thanks...Oh, and I’ll hold you to it!” he yells back, lifting his trophy high above his head. You leave with a sly smirk and playful roll of the eyes, not bad LaRusso.

Walking outside, you smile at Kreese nervously, knowing that he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Ignoring you completely, he snatches your brother from your grasp within moments, pinning him the the nearest car in the parking lot. With Johnny under the weight of Kreese, you try to yank him off, no longer in fear of your actions but what could happen if you don’t act fast. Shoving you out of the way with a hard jab of his elbow to your eye, Kreese goes back to harming your brother, switching positions as he goes to tighten his arm around Johnny’s neck.

Tommy, fearing for his life, stands still, on the verge of passing out. Dutch goes to help you up, pulling you away from Kreese’s proximity, but not for long. Full of anger and disappointment, you tear you body away from Dutch’s, giving him a stern look that he acknowledges and respects, stepping back. You run towards Kreese once more, putting more force into your pushes and shoves. He catches your eyes for a moment, anger glazing over his own as he gets a good look at the utter helplessness and determination within your own. He doesn’t loosen up though, tightening his hold even more so as if to test you. 

Lunging once more, he blocks you from him and counters with a hard blow to your face. You fall again at Kreese’s feet, Johnny’s purpling face looking down at yours in fear and worry. As you go to make a final attempt, your prayers are answered, a man about your height grabbing Kreese’s fist in a vice grip. In a daze, Johnny is able to slip from his hold to the ground beneath him, falling into your outstretched arms as you lunge, again, to protect his head. Kreese, now turning his fury onto the short man, goes for a punch, missing and smashing the glass beside his target.

As the fight starts to get worse, Dutch gets a hold of Johnny, taking his weight off of yours and dragging him to safety. Jimmy and Bobby, going to help Dutch, leaves Tommy to help you up. Taking his hand gratefully, you are able to see Kreese’s demise clearly, a burning crimson decorating his now busted fists, no doubt shredded and in need of medical care. You turn back just in time for him to look your way, grief washing over your figure as you feel a sense of uncertainty. 

The boys get into Johnny’s car quickly, pulling out of the car lot. Tommy, silently turning his calming body to yours, questions you with his eyes. Shaking your head lightly, you signal for him to go with them, your head hazy with the brute force of numerous blows previously clashing with your face. He nods knowingly, smiling weakly, as if questioning your motives or even why you were considering the choice you’d made up. Johnny looks back at you too, but is reassured as the short man, Mr. Miyagi, places a hand on your shoulder. As they peel out of the lot, you sigh and all the strength you’d conjured dropped instantly.

“You need checkup,” the older man states, looking you over.

“Yeah, but I need to take care of him first,” you point at the man.

“Ah. Good heart always forgives. You come by dojo sometime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you answer, kindly excusing yourself as LaRusso runs over to Miyagi, leaving just you and Kreese left in the parking lot.

Slowly, you pace yourself as to not speed too closely, too quickly to the man, walking lightly and quietly. Upon entering a close proximity, he looks up, neutral expression catching you off guard. Blinking once, he looks back down at his continuously bleeding hands, acknowledging your presence but not daring to step the line of communication. He never does.

“Do you...Do you n- ...?” you start, at a loss for words as you try to rephrase the question in a way to still make him feel superior without appearing weak to himself, “Do you want my help?”

He doesn’t say anything as an answer, just simply stares at the reddening hands.

So, following his chosen behavior, you adopt it and act the same. Slowly, you take off your fleece sweater, soft and warm to the touch, and move closer to Kreese. As you move into his personal space, you don’t dare look him in the eyes, and go to rip a piece of the sweater in half. Silently, you carefully take one of his hands in your own, them swallowing yours in turn. Wrapping the now torn cloth around his fists, you slightly tighten the material around the injury to prevent further bleeding, tying off the ends to keep the sweater where you want it. Turning to do the same for the other hand, Kreese never winces, or sucks in a breath, or even grunts in anguish.

As you finish your duty, you step back, parts of your hands and some of your pants now coated in differing amounts of blood from the constant dripping mess he’d left it in for a while. Taking in a deep breath, you look at him directly for the first time of the night, “Get in the car.”

That was the first of many nightmares that litter your mind. You grew into a tough, headstrong, and independent woman not only physically, but mentally as well. You were no longer the child looked down from the tip of Kreese’s nose, and despite your height not making much of a difference, you had filled into your body, soul, and mind. You were a woman nonetheless.

You were understood by Johnny, but to an extent. As you had continued to serve Kreese, it was only right that Johnny distanced himself from him, and with that, came you as well. You accepted this, and knew that you were not at war with him, settling for calls and texts when you missed him most. Johnny still allowed you the time to talk about your problems like you did in high school, and even let you rant about the newest situation with Kreese. Everyday, he worried for you, but he knew that this was what you wanted. 

He knew you fell for him before you even had.

After that night, you went through phases with Kreese: sometimes he was happy and nice to you, other times was full of anger, arguments, and nonstop screaming at one another. You were like an old married couple without the ring, matrimony, and age. You didn’t pay any mind to it, the mixture of feelings for him stronger than the will to leave as you’d wanted to in your youth.

But overall was the feeling of betrayal, or at least a form of it. For 4 years, after the night of the failed tournament, you were with Kreese, and finally, when things started to clear themselves out, another problem arose. Although shit out of luck, Kreese was ready to give up the dojo, give it to the owner, and move on in hopes of wiping the slate clean. You were ready to forgive him. And then, Terry Silver, unable to let the past be the past, convinced Kreese to give it a second try.

Now as you sit in a circle with Dennis, Mike, and Snake on the mat of the dojo, doing some stretches before training starts, you couldn’t help but look at the men excluding you from something you had tried to keep alive as long as they had. Longer than Terry at least. 

Snapping sounds through your frustrated haze, knocking you back into reality by Snake’s fingers. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you look at him, anger now turned towards him instead. “You keep drooling like that and we’ll all be slipping around and breaking shit. Then how would we be at the tournament?”

“Fuck you, Snake,” you get up, stomping to the office without another word. He just turns a mock-offended expression to the boys who give confused ones in return.

Storming into the small cubicle deemed an office, you turn to the men standing side-by-side. “Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart? The boys not playing fair?” Terry teases, trying to push your buttons.

Face now reddened with anger, you spit, “We don’t pay for you to sit around in your office and play with each other’s dicks. You can do that on your own time.”

“You don’t pay period as far as I’m concerned. And last time I checked, you weren’t of much use here anyways, Shortcake,” Terry rebuttals.

“And last time I checked, you're just here to tie your hair back, paint your nails, torture a kid half your age and an man even older than you.”

“Why you-!”

“Terry!” Kreese warns, a hand placed on his comrades’ chest, “It’s not worth your time, just go get the boys readied up for practice.”

“Sure...sure Johnny, I can do that,” he says eagerly, leaving the room with a side glance your way and elbow to the shoulder as he passes by.

Getting up from the back of the desk, Kreese loops around to close the office door, going back to where he was previously. “Wow, you really have that dog under wraps huh? Ready to bark when you say ‘bark’ or growl when you say ‘growl’?”

“Y/N, not now. You better cut this shit out now or I’ll kick you out,” he warns.

“Oh, so now your protecting him?! You’re going to sit here, right now, and threaten me for what? Because he served with you? Because you saved him?! What a load of shit!”

“Watch your mouth! You have no right to raise your voice to me! What I do with this dojo is none of your damn business, and will certainly never concern you. Ever.”

“Oh yeah! For sure! What did he even do, huh? What’s so great about him that is worth protecting his ass for when he’s never had to do anything in return?! I was there John! I was! I dealt with your shit for 4 years! Not 1! Not 2! Not even fucking 3!”

“I never told you to! No one was stopping you from walking out that damn door when everyone else had! I would’ve done perfectly fine without your ‘help’ when all it did was provide extra shit to take care of!”

“Really?! That’s what it was? Nothing? I dealt with your anger issues, your screaming! The god damn punches, kicks, spits, screams, hell anything you wanted to do in order to harm someone else to make you feel better! But that wasn’t me... No... Of course it wasn’t, right?”

“I’ve got no time for this. Stay in this fucking room and don’t move. You even dare come out into that dojo and you’re out. I have a winner to make and not some little girl to argue with.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids as the door hides you from view.

For hours, you sit in boredom, listening to the repetitive “hut” or “ah” as blow after blow is thrown into the dummies and punching bags. If only they could do that to me, take me out of my misery for fuck’s sake. But, despite the utter pissed state you were in, you did not move from the desk, even deciding to take a nap. It wasn’t until Dennis’ unusually loud laugh is echoed within the whole dojo do you finally wake back up. Looking through the blinds, you see the boys getting packed up. Doing the same, you walk out of the office just in time for Terry to leave with the boys a few moments later.

Speeding across the length of the mats, you take long strides in order to storm as fast as possible out of the cage that holds the biggest chains around your neck. Going for the door, you are unable to catch yourself as Kreese grabs your hand and flips you onto your back, splaying your body on the mats beneath you.

Groaning, you move to sit up, watching as he goes to lock the door to the dojo, throwing the keys somewhere and closing the blinds of the big glass panes adorning the front wall. Getting up, the harbored anger floods your being once more, “I’m done with your bullshit Kreese. Let me the fuck out so I can leave this place once and for all. You seem to be doing ‘perfectly fine’ with your boyfriend, so let me go!”

Without answering, he grabs you by the neck firmly, but not enough to choke you. The memories of Johnny instantly flood your mind, causing you to grab his hand just as tight, eyes peering straight into his. Noticing your change in demeanor, he loosens his hold a little and pushes your back up against the closest wall to your back. As your back collides with the wall, his lips clasp yours.

Whining in surprise, you go to pull back only for him to pull you closer by the neck. Realization dawns on you after a moment, and within seconds, your leaning into his touch absentmindedly. You only break apart once your lungs beg for more air. “There. Is that what you wanted?” he asks you, voice gravelly.

Ignoring his comment, you grab him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into you once again, tongue battling his own. Your tongue dances around, observing every crevice and tasting every bit of his mouth, grazing his teeth, biting his lips, and even tangling it with his. Taking control back, he shoves your body back into the wall, separating your mouth from his, a trail of saliva the only thing connecting your bodies.

His hand, long forgotten and hanging loose on your neck, tightens the grip back up firmly once again and moves his other to pin your arms above your head. Now basking in dominance, he kisses you once more, pinning his knee between your legs in the most delicious way. Taking advantage of the placement, you attempt to grind your core against his thigh to relieve some tension. 

“Ah. Ah. Ah,” he warns, pulling his knee away and moving to unbuckle his belt instead, “On your knees, Slut.”

Obeying instantly, you do as he says and place yourself on your knees. Finally undoing the tie of his gi, he pulls his pants, alongside his underwear, down just enough to let his dick spring free. Gulping in admiration, you take in the view of his girth and length, precum oozing at the tip.

“Looks like your happy to see me,” you joke, loosening your tension in your shoulders.

Stepping closer, Kreese edges closer to your mouth, and, taking the hint, you wrap one hand around the base of his shaft. Your other hand, deciding teasing is the best get-back, wraps itself closer to the tip, thumb grazing the slit. Earning a shudder of pleasure from the man, he goes to move in closer again. Pulling your head away, you squeeze the tip loosely, staring up at Kreese.

At your locked gaze, his cheeks burn bright pink, enabling you to give the man what he wants now that he’s at a loss for words and flustered for you. Taking him into your mouth little by little, you stop just before the barricade of choking. Eyes locked onto his, you place your hands on either side of his hips for support, then take him in as fully as physically possible. Instantly, you are met by struggling moans of relief.

Swirling your tongue around and lapping at his veiny member, he struggles to control himself, the undying need for more consuming him. Pulling away just enough to keep the tip in your mouth, you nod at him, giving him the okay to do as he pleases. That was all he needed to start going, pulling your mouth around his cock again, and tangling his hands in your hair for a better grip. Thrusting into your mouth now, you try your best to breathe as you feel him start twitching, knowing you will be fine in a few minutes.

The closer he gets to ecstasy, the louder he gets, hips thrusting in any possible direction as his pleasure threatens to bubble over. “Look at me,” he orders, looking you in the eyes. Slightly confused, you do as told, looking at him through your eyelashes as he continuously uses your mouth. “That’s it, Good Girl.”

Without warning, he unleashes his load into your mouth, the hot and sticky cum shooting to the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow. Licking up the remains, you make a show of swallowing the contents as well, getting back onto your feet with a help of his hand. Pulling your body into his, he kisses you deeply, tasting himself.

You whine as you are still left in uncomfortable need for him, having not gotten your share just yet, the feeling of being filled a painful reminder. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” And that, he does, getting to work on untying your gi and throwing the long-sleeved shirt over you head. Doing the same to him, you match his enthusiasm, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room. 

Playing with your clothed breasts, Kreese slips a hand under your bra to pinch your nipples, twisting them between his middle and fore fingers. Moaning, you pull him into your chest nibbling his ear. Gliding his hands down your sides and to your waist, he slowly edges his fingers slightly underneath your pants, pushing them down with your panties. As he busies himself with your clothes, you move your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, breasts springing free and instantly hardening at the new temperature of the room.

Fingers, teasing your entrance, catches you off-guard, moaning again at the first shocks of pleasure. “Kreese,” you start breathlessly, “Enough is enough. Mgh... Stop teasing me,” you try to order, impatient and horny.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Lifting up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hipbone, he lines himself up with your entrance, entering slowly. Together, you sigh in ease simultaneously. Nodding once, you lean your forehead underneath his chin, starting to thrust slowly. Knowing this isn’t the pace he prefers, and body adjusting to his shape, you pull him in closer, whispering in his ear, “Faster, Daddy.”

Jolting at the name, he fastens the pace, grinding in rougher strokes, rubbing every part of you body in the best way possible. No one’s ever filled you the way he is now, and it leaves you stunned in a trance of utter euphoria. Tapping your other leg, you hop up to warp both legs around Kreese. At the new angle, he thrusts upwards, the overstimulation causing you to shake in a new sensation. 

Squeezing his dick tightly, you try to hold your orgasm off for as long as possible, but the building want of release causes you to topple over the edge quickly, spilling all over the body still within your own. Without faltering, Kreese continues his assault on your body, causing you to scream out in the fury of pleasure being all too much for you. Shaking harder, you struggle to keep yourself around his body for long.

Seeing this, Kreese keeps himself sheathed in your cunt, laying you on your back against the mats of the flooring. Grabbing your legs, Kreese bends them until your thighs meet your chest. Then, thrusting at the same pace as before, Kreese is able to fuck you senseless without further issues. Moaning screams of ecstasy echo throughout the dojo, the combination of yourself and the slapping of skin being the only noises in the room.

As quickly as you’d built up the previous time, your orgasm and need of release forms again, your pussy throbbing in anticipation.  “Kreese..” is all you manage, the older man quickly teetering towards the edge with you. Thrusting the hardest he had the whole night, he manages only a few more before you both come at the same time, screaming as you pull him down by the neck and into your chest, your name falling from his tongue in multiples.

Sucking in as much air as possible, Kreese and you stay in the same position panting before he unsheathes himself and collapses next to you. Catching your breath, you cuddle into his side in a naked heap of sweat and satisfaction. “Are you still jealous of Terry now?”

“It depends, am I still as useless as before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Kreese giggles, “but if you pull another crazy stunt like that, I will really have to give you a good beating. Huh, Babydoll?”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, going to straddle his hips as he lays on his back, “How about round two and I’ll consider not ripping his throat out?”

“Deal.”

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

Hey can I have one where the reader loses a family member and Negan supports her (like the Lydia and negan situation) if possible?

I will try to fix you

Darkness surrounded you leaving you helplessly hopeless it was like waiting for a nightmare to end. However this nightmare never ended. You were pacing back and forth in your room your arms crossed over your chest as you trembled your hands shaking delicately. You tried to stay calm but the more you tried the more you realised you couldn’t get your breath back. You were going through all stages of grief all at once- denial, anger, sadness, vengeance, frustration… everything tumbled all into one creating an awfully hectic whirlwind of emotions leaving you utterly broken. You wanted to scream into the nothingness curse the gods or whoever in the hell was up there in the heavens for creating this terrible god damn world. Emotion after emotion plummeted into you at full force leaving you torn and broken. The Alexandrians had become nothing. Alexandria didn’t exist anymore. The group was broken the only things left of them was scattered memories. Most of the time you were okay with grief but today… today was just not it. Today was going terribly and all you wanted to do was curl into a ball and let the world swallow you whole erasing your name and being. You didn’t want to be here anymore. Your mental health has spiralled ever since the incident and all you could do was watch as your life shattered around you leaving a broken hurt mess.

As you continued pacing around aimlessly a sudden figure grabbed your attention out of the corner of your eye but you ignored it your hands clenched by your sides as you breathed heavily the monsters clawing at the insides of your brain trying to hurt your most vulnerable places and it sure as hell was working. “Y/n.” His voice was gentle and soft. Negan. You hated him. You promised yourself you’d never forgive him. Never forgive him for killing Abraham and Glenn. You never would. You blamed him for everyone’s deaths. Including ricks. Rick, your older brother went out one day to be the hero he was but he never came back. His body was never found. He never came home and so you believed he was gone… dead… but you prayed and hoped he was in no pain. You just hoped he was okay. Memories shuddered around your brain like a rattling earthquake the memories tearing you into a million shreds your heart torn into a thousand pieces. No one would ever be able to fix that. No one. Not even a great sum of money or even the end of the apocalypse could make you happy. Rick was dead, your brother- your other half. Gone. Stripped away from you like he was nothing and that tormented you every single second of your life and you simply couldn’t do shit about it.

Memories of rick and you being the best sibling duo ever rocketed around your head never once leaving you alone. Some memories made you laugh- others made you cry… and some simply made you wish you had died instead of him. You always had a mental battle with yourself and Rick would always demand you not beat yourself up about silly things that didn’t matter and to simply focus on the present but without him you couldn’t even begin to think how to make yourself feel better. Tape recordings of you and Rick was something you would always try and watch. You’d hook the old recording camera up to a working connection and would watch the videos over and over again. Those simple things healed the pain but really you’d never be close to healing. “Y/n. Please stop.” Negan’s words interrupted your thoughts and you froze in place staring at the ground. He was going to get on your nerves wasn’t he? Usual Negan. “I know I’ve upset you. I know-“ you immediately cut him off “you no nothing about me! You don’t know shit” you spat out angrily tears about ready to spill from your eyes but you wouldn’t let any out. Not yet at least. “You hate me… and that’s okay….” His eyes darted down to the floor as he sighed “and I don’t blame you y/n. But you need to move on. You need to let yourself grieve. You need to cry. It’s okay to cry.” He spoke his voice tender and kind. Kindness nowadays was odd but special and kindness coming from him was weird but it was nice in some way. You wanted to cave tell him how you were feeling allow him to comfort you but he was still the same man he was before. Or well at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. You didn’t want to give in to any comfort of any kind as you were scared of it. Rick would always comfort you and be the only one allowed to comfort you and now he was gone you didn’t accept any kind of kindness.

“Hit me,”

His voice was thick with regret and worry for you his eyes clouded with guilt and sadness. “What?” Your voice was cold and sharp. Negan let out a sigh-

“Hit me.”

He spoke once again but instead of a request it sounded more like a demand his features still soft as he kept his eyes on you. “No. I… I’m not going to.” You said turning around attempting to ignore him. “Ricks dead. He’s not coming back I wish I could change that for you y/n I really do.” He spoke seeking to be pushing you to the edge to get you to crack. Getting you to crack so you would let go and allow comfort to seep through your shattered frame. You stormed up to him glaring into his eyes “you know fuck all about my brother! h-he’s not dead! He’s somewhere out there he is!” You seethed out trying to see hope but really there was no hope. “I know… I know…” he whispered and you felt your breath hitch as you punched his chest weakly the first punch being gentle full of sadness “you know nothing!” You sobbed out the world around you starting to crack into nothingness as you began beating your fists into his chest trying to hurt him trying to make him feel what you felt but ultimately you felt like you were just making a mockery of yourself. Negan’s eyes were laced with sadness and a sort of understanding look. No trace of evilness or cruelty within his eyes as he simply gazed at you allowing you to get your anger out. Allowing you to simply get everything you needed to get out- out. “m-my brothers dead and it’s all your fault!” You yelled your voice raw with emotion tears now hurdling down your cheeks trails of wet salty tears upon your cheeks the dim light in the room making the tears sparkle like a thousand stars in the sky. “I hate you! I hate you! You hear me! I wish I could kill you! I want you dead!” You screamed out your energy being wasted as you fell into his chest weakly his arms wrapping around you tightly forcing you to stop hitting him or injuring yourself by how rough you were being.

“Shh, shush… I know. Let me help please y/n”

Anger filled within you even more and you struggled in his grip broken sobs leaving your lips as you tried to hurt him your words being incapable of expressing themselves and so you simply resulted in trying to hurt him. He held onto you tightly his chin resting atop of your head as he closed his eyes rubbing his hands up and down your back “I’m sorry y/n. I truly am. If I could change this and bring rick back then I would.” He said honestly but you were too tired to even say anything. Too emotionally exhausted to even attempt at saying anything vulgar or anything at all really and so you just allowed your legs to buckle underneath you gentle quiet sobs leaving your lips your eyes straining to stay open as you let out a scream agony within the scream as you gripped onto him allowing him to hold your body weight allowing him to take the weight of the world upon your shoulders away. You allowed him to do something you never let anyone else do.

You allowed him to fix you.

He kept you in his arms gently stroking your head ha fingers gently tangling in your hair as he closed his eyes his lips barely brushing against the top of your head trying to bring you any sense of security and comfort. He held you up replacing all the bones and life in your body with himself as he simply held you. He cared. He cared for you and wanted you to be something you doubted you’d ever be. He wanted you to be okay. “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.” He whispered quietly your sobs still echoing around many people growing worried as they heard the cries and thinking you were in trouble they came and checked and when they saw what was going on they simply and respectfully left however Daryl didn’t leave. He watched from a distance watching as you found solace in Negan. His own eyes were filled with worry and concern but you had to look real deep to see his true feelings. He felt regret and anger towards himself knowing he had failed rick by not being able to look after you the way rick would’ve wanted him to. A soft sigh left Daryl’s lips and he left the scene alerting everyone that you were okay. You’d be okay. You had someone you had found solace in and that was enough.

Your cries soon settled down into little sniffles but Negan didn’t dare let go. “I miss him…” your voice was broken and quiet and he nodded not saying anything as he simply held you. “I’ve got you y/n. You’re safe with me.” His arms encircled more tightly around you as he pulled you closer cradling your head close to his chest.

“Let me fix you”

His voice was soft and gentle and you sniffled slowly and weakly finding your strength again and you lifted your head looking into his eyes exhaustion in your eyes and you simply nodded your head not trying to pull away from him “I will try to fix you” he whispered to you before pulling you into his arms once again holding onto you protectively and Negan meant that. He’d try and fix you. He most definitely would. He carefully lifted you up into his arms noticing how you were practically half asleep and he walked you through the small community and towards your small cottage gently pushing the door open with his foot as he put you in bed covering you up with the blankets tucking you in and making sure you were comfortable his hand slowly and gently stroking over your forehead brushing away the hair from your face as he looked into your eyes smiling softly “get some rest and tomorrow we can go out… pick some flowers… maybe look for rick. He’s somewhere out there.” He spoke softly watching as you tiredly nodded and he smiled “sleep well y/n.” He slowly stood up as he slowly turned around attempting to walk out of the room however you reaching out and grabbing onto his hand stopped him and he looked back at you “stay… please. Don’t wanna be alone.” A soft look formed on his features and he nodded kicking his shoes off as he laid down beside you wrapping a comforting arm around you as you snuggled into his chest. He rubbed comforting patterns into your arm as he tried to help you get to sleep.

The silence was quiet and peaceful as your soft breaths along with Negan’s and the sound of wildlife outside was heard. It was nice. “Negan” you whispered his eyes flicking down to you “hm,” he hummed quietly and you looked up to him through your tired eyes. “Do you think he is actually alive out there?” You asked having some sort of hope in your eyes but you knew it would be a miracle if he was even alive. Negan let out a gentle sigh looking up at the ceiling before he smiled softly and simply nodded his head not uttering a word. “How do you know?” You questioned quietly and he looked into your eyes

“I don’t know y/n. But do you think anyone truly knows anything? No one knows truly. For example the weather isn’t always right… it can rain but then sunshine for the rest of the day… no one can predict it now can they?” You shook your head slightly and he smiled “so he’s out there somewhere. No one knows for sure. But do one thing for me yeah…” he paused knowing he had your full attention “one simple thing…” he locked eyes with yours as he smiled gently “believe” you studied him for a few moments before slowly nodding your head. “Just have some faith… remember that he could well be alive out there. And if you ever miss him until we find him. Look up at the moon for me because remember someone else including rick will be looking at the moon at the same time you are” his words were comforting and gave you some peace of mind. You were truly grateful for him.

“Try and get some rest. I’ll be here to keep watch. Sleep well,”

he spoke tenderly holding you closer to him and slowly but surely you fell into a deep sleep hoping that Rick was alive out there somewhere. Someday you’d find your brother again and that day was going to be the best day ever. One day you’d be in your brothers arms again and until that day happened… at least you had people who’d watch your back through everything and at least you had him.

The man you hated but had grown more fond of. The man who comforted you more than anything. The man you were forever grateful for.

Negan.

[yourlocalshittywriter]

The Duty of a Hero

Author’s Note: Howdy folks! I’m here with my first proper fic and I really hope that y’all like it! This will be exploring what could’ve happened if the Dabi that Aizawa fought wasn’t one of Twice’s clones. Since this is a fight, I advise the folks that are sensitive to things like that to click off and read another fic. Also, since this story does change scenery and moods a bit, I included some songs that change along with the the stories mood! This is mainly just because I like showing off my music taste and shit. Here’s Part 2!

Songs to Go Along: The Fighter by In This Moment, Acid Bubble by Alice In Chains, The Great Gig In The Sky by Pink Floyd

I felt extremely at peace for once in life. I felt the normal crackling of my joints silence into a warm nothingness. My aching muscles that had been torn to shreds time and time again, the ones that had been strained and stretched beyond the limits of the human body seemed to reform perfectly as they melted into the rest of my numb form. My skin, a forest of calluses, scars, stitches, and open wounds felt as if it was no longer there. I was no longer confined to the space of my body, and instead moved around as freely as water or air. I was a sort of goo, unmoving, stationary, simple, yet free. 

With a quirk as self-destructive as mine, becoming a hero was a sort of death wish. My quirk was known as “pain transfer.” Anytime I made eye contact with a person, I could activate my quirk and subject myself to pain only to have them suffer the pain of the injury for as long as I was looking at them. I could also transfer existing pain to my target. Although I may have had a wicked high pain tolerance and quick recovery period, my humanity was bound to catch up to me eventually. Quirks like mine, “villainous quirks” according to most people, should be kept hidden and the people born with them should go on to live normal lives as ordinary civilians. My parents were among these people. When I told them that I was enrolling in the hero course at UA, I was given the choice to either become a hero and be disowned, or ditch my pipe dream and stay their beloved child. I packed my things that night.

It was a miracle that I passed the entrance exam the next day. I was running on little sleep, the loss of my financial support, and the trauma that came with the realization that your parents didn’t love you anymore because you didn’t live in a way that they approved of. I had trained since my will to become a hero first arrived, a sort of passionate drive that crashed into my life so unexpectedly that the impact nearly gave me whiplash. 

I supposed that that inferno of, what? Spite? No, not spite, something deeper, hotter, and more righteous than spite. Let’s say ardor. This ardor was what drove me to take out as many robots as I could, despite the fact that my quirk was utterly useless in this situation. I took out a decent amount of robots, at least, decent enough to get into the hero course. A lady by the name of Recovery Girl healed me before I went on my way. I thought that I just had a few scrapes and bruises, but apparently I had a broken wrist. Surprisingly, I wasn’t the worst-off there, some poor kid broke both of his arms and one of his legs. 

The time between this moment and when I got into UA seems to have flown by. I came into UA, a semi-blank canvas, and now here I was, bleeding out on the campsite that I planned to spend my summer at with my classmates. Dying feels far less painful than one would assume; you really don’t even realize that you’re dying at first. It’s sort of like that feeling you get after eating a warm meal after starving for so long, sickening at first, but comforting after you grow used to it. It’s like taking a hot bath after spending a day in the snow; it burns at first, but the burning subsides into a comforting numbness. Your senses slowly dull into nothingness but your brain is left to conjure whatever image it pleases. I could have seen dead relatives, met idols, or even pictured an alternate life where my parents still loved me, but I didn’t.

I didn’t want it. Fame, fortune, admiration, acceptance, rebirth, none of it. I wanted none of it. I wanted to live. I wanted to do what I swore to do as soon as I got into UA. I wanted what I signed up for when I packed my bags and left my parents’ house at age fourteen. I wanted what I fought tooth and nail for. I wanted my ambitions and goals fulfilled.

Of course I wanted what I had worked for, that was beyond obvious, however, I also wanted the small things in life. I wanted my afternoon tea with Yaoyorozu, Sato, and Todoroki. I wanted my fashion shows with Aoyama, Ashido, and Hagakure. I wanted my midnight conversations with Shinsou and Tokoyami. I wanted my video game sessions with Kaminari and Sero. I wanted my morning meditation meetings with Shoji, Ojiro, and Koda. I wanted to watch pro-wrestling with Bakugou and Kirishima. I wanted to train with Iida, Uraraka, and Midoriya. I wanted to swim with Asui. I wanted to listen to music with Jiro and Mr. Present Mic. I wanted inappropriate jokes with Ms. Midnight. I wanted to make Mr. Aizawa proud; I wanted to make myself proud. So, with so many incredible things to live for, I opened my eyes, and attempted to move.

Much to my distaste, it turns out that my relief from pain, as well as the disassociation from my body was nothing more than a thin veil that was easily permeated as I rose from near death. The forest was nothing more than a verdant blur, one that was far from easy to navigate. However, all things end eventually, so I decided to run from death and wherever I ended up would be the least of my worries. I sprinted through the disorder and dysfunction, and wound up walking in on my teacher fighting the son of a bitch who had left me to die a lonely death with only the company of insects and whatever plants were to take over my wilting corpse.

As Mr. Aizawa tackled the cremation villain, I rose from the forest, stared at the man in restraints, and activated my quirk. As the pain transferred from me to him, I felt the veil of insensibility slip over me once more. The villain howled out in agony, the very agony that he had inflicted on me only minutes before. 

“Whatever you do, don’t break your gaze Eraserhead!” I chimed as I finally straightened my form, not wanting the hero to see me in such a state, “You’ll just have to trust me on this one!” Mr. Aizawa nodded, keeping a steady gaze on his target.

“Tried to kill me off?” I snarled as I made my way towards the sadistic bastard and beloved teacher holding him in place.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” the captive growled through gritted teeth, still under an amount of pain that would knock-out any average human. He looked beyond pissed that I survived, as if he took offense to the fact that I didn’t appreciate his work. I waltzed over to him, just far enough from Mr. Aizawa, but just close enough to the charred villain. 

“Surprise, I remain,” I cooed, low enough for only the villain to hear. He bared his teeth at me, looking at me as if he were some sort of rabid animal. I wanted to taunt him. I wanted to make fun of the fact that he had been taken down by a high schooler and their teacher, but I knew that it was never good to brag, because Karma would usually come to bite you in the ass for it. 

I stared at the man covered in staples, every blink I took releasing him from the effects of my quirk. Every blink motivated me to continue staring at him, to immobilize him so Mr. Aizawa could use his eye drops or blink, to buy him some time. However, I knew that this game of “pass the villain” could only go on for so long. Something had to be done. Eventually, the patchwork villain would catch both of us off guard and use his quirk, or one of his buddies would come and back him up. Mr. Aizawa and I were miles away from my peers or the rest of the pro-heroes. It was just the two of us up against this villain, and we were growing tired.

Only minutes after the realization had struck me, the villain escaped from Mr. Aizawa’s scarf when the two of us accidentally blinked at the same time. The human crematorium stood before us, and before I could use my quirk to disable him, he shot out a flurry of blue flames my way.

I dodged this attack as Mr. Aizawa ran towards the villain, yelling out the name “Dabi.” Before Mr. Aizawa was able to restrain him, Dabi grabbed the erasure hero and threw him headfirst into a brick wall, effectively knocking him out. I desperately wanted to check on my partner in battle, but I knew that I couldn’t let my guard down, because now Dabi was staring me directly in the eye.

I could attempt to charge at him, but I would be charred to bits, and even if I somehow managed to avoid his flames, I would meet the same fate as Eraserhead, knocked out and at Dabi’s mercy. I was screwed, I had no back up, my teacher was unconscious, and I was face to face with one of Japan’s most notorious criminals. I was dead meat.

That was until I devised a plan, one that would take out the cremation villain for good. One that would end his reign of terror once and for all. However, there was only one downside to this plan, and that was the fact that this plan would result in two casualties, Dabi and me. However, if I went with any other plan, Mr. Aizawa and I were to become the victims while Dabi walked off scot free. 

I was destined to become a martyr.

With that realization, I turned to my teacher who was slowly coming to his senses and gave him a gentle smile,

“Eraserhead, it has truly been a pleasure,” I announced as Dabi’s arrogant gaze turned to one of confusion. As Mr. Aizawa slowly faded back into his previously comatose state before he had time to be confused, I focused my gaze back on the blue-flamed bastard. It was time to end it, to end his rule once and for all.

I reached into my pocket, grabbed a tiny weapon that fit perfectly in my hand, locked eyes with the villain, smirked, and painlessly slit my neck. As Dabi grasped his neck and choked on his unseen blood, which was truly my blood, he fell to his knees.

As I took what I knew were my last steps, I came face to face with the first half to my murder-suicide. He glared at me, an amalgam of agony that felt nothing at all, and snarled.

“I’ll see you in hell, you cunt.”

I laughed, of all the things he could’ve chosen to be his final words, he chose to give into the childish desire to have the last word with me. As his oddly-familiar eyes drained of life, I felt the pain I had so carelessly inflicted upon myself finally hit me like a freight train.

I began to choke as I fell to my knees, similarly to how Dabi had fallen only seconds before. I knew that my time was up soon, I would succumb to my injuries and lose the thing I had fought tooth and nail for only moments before. I looked to the horizon to find the sun casting his loving gaze upon my battered body. It was as if Apollo himself was granting me a warrior’s death, like he knew I had made some kind of a righteous sacrifice that warranted a soothing transition from death to afterlife.

The sunrise was something like I had never seen before. The blues burned brighter than the flames I had defeated minutes before, the yellow pooled around my weary being like an evening gown to a death dance, and the red painted a comforting scene in the clouds, as if to distract me from my own red that painted my body and the ground around me. I smiled my final smile as I walked into the loving embrace of the sun.

My duty as a hero had been fulfilled.

[spicy-tomato]

yall want angst? no? to bad here you go

based on the song redecorate by twenty one pilots

Seein snapshots chronologically in line

After the butcher army took techno away you couldnt handle anything anymore. Everything made you think of him from the way the dust fell over the book he left on the nightstand to the way the ashes sat in the bottom of the fireplace. You hadnt left your room, opting to stay as close to him as you could.

Something told him he should look around and tidy up

As you look around once more you see just how much of a mess the room had become, tissues and broken glass litter the floor of the room you once shared with him. You eyes sting from just how long you had been crying, had it been hours? Days? You lost track of time as soon as you saw him in the chains as they dragged him away from his house, from your house.

Flat on his back but he still heard the directive

“Stay here my persephone, dont make a sound. If they find you, run. Dont try to save me, save yourself first.'' That was the last thing techno said to you before he walked out to meet them in the snow covered field next to the house. The last words you feared he would ever say to you.

Never asked permission, just hopes that they forgived

You knew if he saw you like this he would be upset, he never liked seeing you cry, especially if it was over him. He loved seeing your smile, your laugh and how bright your eyes got when you talked about your day. Now that he was gone all you could do was cry. No one was there to hold you and tell you it was going to be okay, no one there to kiss your hand and wipe your tears.

Blankets over mirrors, she tend to like it

You had put all the blankets from the bed over what was left of the mirrors, once they had taken him you had broken them. You couldnt stand to look in them for fear of what you would see, so you broke them and covered the rest with the blankets you would both sleep under. They still smelled like him.

Shes not afraid of her reflection, but of what she might see behind it

You went to pick up the glass, looking at yourself in the dust and dirt covered shard. You saw him behind you, kissing your neck after he finishes putting your hair up for you, he backs away and disappears. You drop the shard and turn around, not hearing the audible shatter of the already destroyed shard as you look for him, only to find nothing.

She had plans to change her name, just not the traditional way

Before they had taken him you were both lying on the couch, him holding you to his chest as he played softly with your hair. “One day i want you to change your name.” you look up at him confused. “Why would you want that? I thought you liked my name?” you say with a curious tone, he just chuckles and moves a hand to cup your cheek. “I do, but it would sound so much better with my last name.”

She covers all the dents with the way she decorates

Phil had sent crows to check on you since he was on house arrest still, leaving you in constant fear of them reporting back to him how hard you were taking this. You would move furniture to cover the holes you made in the wall from punching it, turn pillows over to hide the blood stains from when you used them to stop your bleeding knuckles. Blankets were neatly folded over chairs to hide how the inside was torn to shreds because of how you couldnt forget sitting in his lap in that very chair while he read to you.

Then one night, she got cold with no blankets on her bed so she ripped them off the mirror

That night had been one of the worst since they took him, a snow storm hitting harder than you predicted, leaving you shaking without the warmth of the blankets you used to hide your reflection in the broken memories on the wall. You stand up and rip one down, almost taking the mirror with it. You get a peak at what you look like, eyes bloodshot and skinnier than you should be. Your ribs were showing and your hair was greasy and matted all over, not to mention how bad you probably smelled from not showering since he left--no, since he was ripped from your arms.

He says he likes an open schedule, but he mostly hates it

Since he had been gone, you were free to do as you pleased, not like you werent able to before but you felt more comfortable staying closer to the house. As phil sent more crows and letters you would write back, saying you were going out and doing things and trying to live a normal life. That was a lie. You could barely get out of bed at this point and it hurt to even think about leaving the house without him being there to keep you safe.

I dont wanna die like this, at least let me clean my room

As the storm raged on outside you couldnt take it anymore, you stood up and ripped the rest of the blankets off the mirrors, causing most to come crashing down and covering the floor with the rest of the glass that was left in them. You screamed and cried, punching the walls and ripping the pillows and sheets to shreds. If you couldnt have him you didnt want to have to live with the memories of him always being there. You couldnt handle it.

I dont wanna leave like this

You couldnt do it, you kept crying and ruining everything, not caring if one of the crows saw you. You had finally broken. Nothing mattered anymore, not without him. Nothing would ever mean as much to you as he did.

Should i keep it on display

You make your way to the bottom floor, throwing vases and potion stands, glass bottles and everything else you could find across the room. You pick up one thing and look at it before throwing it, seeing you and techno looking back at you. You fall to the floor as you hold the photo in your hands, it was from the first time you went to the flower fields. You had put a flower in his hair and were working on making him a crown while he stares at you with pure love. You could remember that moment perfectly as you look at it.

Or redecorate

Without a second thought, you scream louder and throw the photo into the long dead fireplace, the glass shattering and filling the ashes and the photo falling face down onto the ash. You cry and cry and cry until you cant form any more tears. So you lay there heaving and screaming, not hearing anything other than your heaving and crying. Nothing could make you feel better. You let him go. You didnt even try to save him. It was your fault and you knew it.

[thedoommommy]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴

The doctor stared at the scene before her. One of the bloodiest massacre’s she’d seen since the Omnic Wars. Bodies torn to shreds, broken bones, twisted faces of pain, agony, and the cry for mercy. The hallways painted crimson with the blood of the innocents.  “Mein gott…”, the blonde, Swedish doctor whispered to herself. Her hands clutching onto her caduceus staff. She couldn’t help but feel her knees buckle and slowly fall to the ground. She did not know these people, but she could practically feel the pain and torment of which those once whole. Her left hand would slowly shift to press against her heart. 

“Who would do such a thing… Such a horrible, horrible thing…”, she nearly gagged as she shifted her gaze to land upon that of yet another twisted face. Funny. She’d seen these faces before in battle. Most of whom where her close friends. She could save them then… But here, she was too late.

Whilst she mourned for the lost souls within this treacherous foundation, she hadn’t noticed a figure behind her. The ghostly, clawed hand of the figure reached out to grasp her hair, yanking her back. With a yelp, the female fell upon her back. Her eyes clenched shut as to not have the being a second glance. 

“Open your eyes, Angela…”, a familiar voice rang out. Almost immediately, her eyes shot open. Crystal blue hues staring straight into the barrel of a shotgun. Her eyes widened before she looked past the barrel and up at the skull-like mask of the one and only, REAPER.

Angela tried to move, but the heavy boots of her past companion pressed down upon her wrists. This caused the doctor to yelp in pain. “Gabriel! Gabriel, please stop this!”, she shouted, or at least she tried. She froze when she heard the clicking of his gun. “Good-bye, little Angel…”, his tone was dark, evil, and held pure hatred. Angela tried to scream as loud as she could. As the gun went off, everything around her went black.

(Art is not mine)

She woke up with a start. Her chest heaving and her body dripping with cold sweat. Tears filled the doctors eyes as she brought her legs up to her chest, stuffing her face into her knees. “Just a dream… Mein gott… J-just a dream…”, she reassured herself. 

After she took her time to calm down, she slowly slid out of her bed and slipped on her slippers. Her daily routine has begun. Ever since she had been invited to work secretly at the foundation, she had a messed up schedule during the day. In the morning? Of course she had that all to herself. She had not told her friends back at Overwatch about this on behalf of the foundations request. 

Slowly, she shuffled over to the calendar. Scanning the day with her tired, blue hues, she then landed on today. “Uh! I have to get ready!”, she immediately sprinted around. Of course she nearly forgot today was the day she met her first SCP for an interview. Quickly, she brushed her hair out and pulled it up. She sprinted around, washing her face, brushing her teeth and getting up and dressed with her lab coat on. Finally, she got rid of what she could of dark circles under her eyes. Checking her appearance, she smiled at herself and placed her glasses upon her head. Fixing her croissant bun braided hair, she opened her bedroom door. In her arm she held a clipboard with the SCP’s file clipped within it.

Checking her watch, she found she would be late if she did not hurry. Her heels clicked against the ground as she caught an elevator down to the Elucid floors of the foundation. A soft hum escaping her excited lips. She seemed to have completely forgotten about her nightmare all together. It was what she had learned to do. Even after her parents deaths, when she was just 7. She learned t o keep that fake smile upon her face.

Soon, the elevator doors opened on the exact floor she was supposed to go. Hurriedly, she ran across the hallways and straight to one cell in particular. “Wew! Made it just in time!”, she says with a happy smile upon her face. A scientist gave her a grey keycard and nodded, “Dr. Ziegler… Please… Be very careful with SCP-“, he was cut off by the blonde doctor herself. “Oh relax, I shall be fine! I’ve been studying his file and video notes for a few weeks now! I believe I know how to make him talk!”, she says pessimistically. The scientist gave her a huff and walked off mumbling, “Your happy nature will not last, doctor”.

With that, she took the card in her hand and slipped onto the card slot, a loud beeping sound heard. Finally, the cell doors opens slowly to reveal the one and only, SCP049 in the flesh. His beak slowly raised up from where he sat shackled to the table. His silverish, blue eyes met Angela’s own.

“Greetings…”

(Art is not mine)

He had been merely thrown into this interview. Figuratively and literally. The shackles that held his wrists down on the cold, metal table seemed tighter than normal. His neck collar followed suit. He grimaced when the guards shoved him down into the seat in front of the table, beginning to lock the chains into their assigned placements within the ground. 

The occasion? It seems he is about the find out. The only information that he was given was what he had over heard the doctors talk about over the comms. 

“Where is she?”, one asked whilst he unknowingly pressed his elbow against the speaker button. Another doctor would clear his throat. “She says she is here, open the gates once she slides the key into the key guard”, he says softly to the other. “Damn, why’d we have to let someone as innocent and pessimistic as this absolute angel come just to have it ripped away from her… Shame..”, he says and picked his elbow from the button before leaning over to open the gate to the interview room.

The entity pictured what this doctor would look like. A female doctor? He’s seen them before, but not many in this foundation. Especially not one who wore garments such as these. She resembled that of an Angel. A pure, beautiful and soul tugging angel… It was almost too good to believe she was even real... As the doors slowly rolled open, a whiff of, pure and white energy struck his bone like mask. Impossible. None here did not carry the pestilence. It confused him for a moment. His gaze met that of icey blue ones. There she was. The doctor herself. Blonde hair pulled up in a lose braid from the back to a bun. Pale skin like that of an Angel. Her features matched her name. Of which he picked up on of course thanks to her name tag. “Doctor Angels Ziegler”. It had a vivid ring to it. It fit her.

He took his chance to speak, “Greetings… Doctor”, his eerie tone echoed through the room. His tone seemed to shift and change from welcoming to curious. But before he could speak, the blonde woman spoke up.

“Hello, doctor! I did not expect the guards to strap you in so tight… They look uncomfortable… Anyways, how are you feeling?”, Angels asked 049 almost immediately. Her heels clicking against the floor to fully enter the room. 

She was… worried? About him? Strange. That feeling of safety and worry nearly left his heart a millennia ago. One of the few things he had to sacrifice to become the GREAT doctor he was today. Though, the feeling of having someone worry for him was a nice touch he needed in his life. It soothed him from the headache that had occurred from being mindlessly and violently jostled around in the chair.

“Ah… No need to worry about me, doctor… I assure you. I am doing quite fine. Although, I am surprised you have little to no trace of the pestilence. You are pure”, he spoke with a tilt of his head as she sat down in front of him. This made Angela chuckle and pick her hand up to place her glasses upon her nose. “Oh dear, but I thought a doctor should always worry about his or her patients. Let alone anyone in need”, she let her gaze rest upon his. He wouldn’t admit it. But her gaze gave him a sense of security. A warmth that he wasn’t sure he welcomed so often spread through his cold, seemingly heartless chest. 

“This is true, Dr. Ziegler”, he says, feeling a chuckle erupt from deep with his chest. “Now tell me about this pestilence. The more I read and study about it, the more it comes to me as the thought of brutal human nature”, Angela asked as she took off her glasses to look up at the plague doctor. 

“Ah, a question I have heard millions of times yet… Few have given a nearly perfect answer such as yours…”, he states. His mind had been blown. The way she studied and simply observes just to come up with an answer practically shows just how intelligent she is. 

“"Ah... indeed you would be correct on that assumption. To remove the pestilence out of an organism, one must root it out completely from the patient's core to prevent them from carrying it further." 049 began to explain. "However... even today my method requires... *perfecting*... the pestilence is constantly... evolving... changing... adapting. Almost fascinating." 049 mused as he tapped his clawed finger against the metal desk.

Angela was stunned. She was correct? Of course she was! She had been studying! And she was good at it too! “Seems like you understand how human nature has changed over the years… Too much violence…. My aim is to end world violence, bring peace and aid to those who need it, and… To keep saving lives of those who need it the most”, she says as she wrote a few notes down about his behavior.

(This is just a sneak peak into my idea of continuing the “The Dove and The Crow”. Mercy and 049! 💕)

[hes-writer]

Ruin

Summary: im not sure how to summarize this without spoiling the story

Warning: angst, bits of fluff here and there

Word Count; 4158 words

A/N: the long-awaited part 6 of the Tarnish series! A collab with @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. My attention span is short itself so I've decided to split it up into two parts.

UNEDITED

___

Harry tried to see the brighter side of the situation because it truly was something to look forward to. Having the chance to get to know Halo was something that he should be grateful for. As Y/N said, Harry did not deserve to be a part of her life, despite the fact that he was the father. And somewhere, somehow— he understood where she was coming from.

Harry honestly wouldn’t know what he would do if the roles were reversed; if Y/N were the one to have been cheating on him. He would not have a clue if Harry would be as kind to her as she was with him. If an outsider were to assess the situation between Harry and Y/N, they would definitely choose her side to be in favour of. So far, Harry still wasn’t able to pinpoint what exactly Y/N had done wrong for him to be swayed by an illicit affair. Was there even a moment in time that he could vividly see where he made the decision to just up and betrayed her trust? Because if there was; either his memory has gone to shit or Harry was more of a jerk than he served himself.

To put things into perspective, Y/N was the perfect partner and Harry had somehow lost sight of that by cheating on her. Don’t get him wrong; Camille was good, great, even. Yet Y/N was an amazing woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Coincidentally, those were the same type of things that Harry needed, too. As much as it pained him to say it, Camille’s rejection of their own little family made him rethink his decision-making process. Harry has learned more about himself in these past few months than he did in his entire lifetime.

For starters, he cleared it up that he had absolutely no excuse for cheating on Y/N except the fact that his retention span lasted a good few years before he was in search of something fresh; something new and exciting. Maybe it scared him just how serious she was in having a family in the future that his subconscious thought that Harry needed one last hurrah to get the infidelity out. Besides, divorces are more complicated when there are children involved.

Secondly, being with Camille was an infatuation that lasted for a long, three years—beginning while Harry was in a relationship with Y/N. Feelings were still there for sure, but he just didn’t know if it was enough to make him stay, especially when Y/N and baby Halo were right there waiting for him. They actually weren’t; Harry just liked to pretend that they were so that he could justify the consequences of his actions.

Camille was trying to make things work with him; Harry could see that. However, there were only so many things that she could do to improve their relationship before she had to change the choices that she had made years prior. Camille really didn’t want to say that she had refuted the idea of not having kids for the sake of making a relationship prosper, but maybe it was what she had to do to make him stay. She wanted a happy life with someone who wanted the same things as her. Harry wasn’t the man who shared a mutual agreement and she was pushed to question her options.

Nonetheless, Camille and Harry stuck with each other because they were all they knew for the past three and a half years. It was definitely ironic for Harry to say that he couldn’t just leave a three-year relationship behind for another woman; because he had done that before. Now, he was a hypocrite too? His ego cannot take it.

____

Connor wrapped his arms around Y/N’s middle as she washed the dishes in the sink. Their water heater was broken so the stream that came from the faucet sometimes teetered from freezing cold to extremely hot. Right now, she was scrubbing the sponge on the porcelain as quickly as possible while the water was at the right temperature.

Y/N turned her head to the side, pressing a kiss on Connor’s cheek. He rested his chin on her shoulder, bobbing up and down as she moved her arms.

“Is this really a good idea, baby?” Connor asked, staring at the way her lashes fluttered in a pregnant pause, taking a deep breath.

She nodded, reaching over slightly to rest the wet dish on the drying rack. “Halo deserves to at least know her real father,”

And it was true. What kind of mother would Y/N be if she kept a secret like that from her own daughter? The past two years was a constant ping-pong battle of reaching out to Harry and sharing the news to him; then, Y/N would be hit with a shot of realization, wondering if this would ruin his current lifestyle.

“I understand. What if he leaves again? Hate to remind you but Harry left you once before, don’t think he’ll hesitate to do so again,”

She froze at Connor’s words. Y/N was aware that he only said that in good faith, to remind her of how hurt she was at the time and just how long it took for her to be able to finally breathe again.

One side of Y/N urged to still defend Harry. She wanted to turn and around, yell at him because Connor doesn’t know Harry as she does. Harry wasn’t the type to build a child’s dreams up only for him to personally manhandle the heart and crush it in his fist. There was a reason why he was a godfather to so many kids; Ruby, Arlo and Jackson—because he was capable. Harry was a nurturing father who put himself on the back burner in favour of making sure that the little ones were safe and secured. He had no problem being third if it meant that the kids were first, then Y/N, then him.

It all sounded so good in Y/N’s head; so well-rehearsed and very well thought out. The monologue that had somehow stuck in the sides of her brain like a script taped to the wall, ready for the time it needed to be recited. The shredded pieces of paper also reminded her that Y/N might’ve known Harry before, but she certainly doesn’t anymore. In fact, she knew just as much as Connor did.

Just like Y/N had grown and evolved into a new person, Harry was not the same guy he once was when they were together.

“I told him the consequences if he did,”

Connor pulled back, stepping away from her. “But wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t take that chance? Who knows what he might do. . .” He trailed off, grabbing a dry rag to wipe the water dripping from the dish.

Y/N took a leap of faith in letting Harry in. He was a wild card. He could promise one thing but would mean another. Or he could recite a vow and completely annihilate the person as he did with her. Yet somehow, Y/N couldn’t resist the opportunity to give him one chance. Maybe it was because a small part of her craved to re-create a happy family that they had always wanted.

“It’s a risk. I know that” Y/N rinsed a cup, swirling the water in circles. She felt like that whenever Harry was around.

“So why are you still doing it?” Y/N opened her mouth to answer, “And tell me the truth this time, yeah?”

Her boyfriend stared at her with an unreadable emotion in his eyes, lips drew taut in a straight line and arms were crossed over his broad chest. The pressure was immense on Y/N’s shoulders. She was torn between admitting what she had buried deep below the sand or simply glossing over it like a figure skater. Nonetheless, Y/N was on thin ice.

For years, she had flicked away the remaining feelings that stayed with her. But they were persistent in sticking by her side. It wasn’t like Y/N could completely erase Harry from her life--from who she was. She still dressed like him, evidenced by the matching pair of Gucci loafers she chose not to wear for the night in fear that he would coincidentally be sporting the same footwear.

Furthermore, they had a child together! Halo was the spitting image of him. It was hard not to be reminded by a man she once loved when their little baby was both of them mixed in one. So did Y/N still love Harry? She couldn’t deny how much her heart fluttered seeing him stutter over his words at the park. Y/N just wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety and nervousness or excitement and anticipation.

Unbeknownst to the couple, Harry had sneakily closed a sleeping Halo’s bedroom door. His trek back to the kitchen was slow, slightly afraid of the awaiting talk he and Y/N--and possibly Connor-- have yet to have. Harry wanted to be there for Halo and for Y/N every step of the way, but he knew that Y/N would not allow him around if his intentions were to cater to a relationship with her. She was already tolerating him as is.

Standing behind the thin wall that acted as a partition from the hallway to the kitchen, Harry carefully placed his hands against the barrier to steady himself. He didn’t know if his legs could take whatever answer would spill from Y/N’s mouth. If she admitted her true feelings, he would stumble and melt into a puddle. He would be confused, but Harry wouldn’t be opposed to it; he was in a relationship after all. If she denied it--which was the more likely option--, his heart would break silently in his chest.

Harry numbed himself of the guilt raking at his ankles. He was well aware that this was a private conversation but hey; it was not his fault that he had ears straining to listen to Y/N’s reply.

“Do you still love him?” Connor followed up, voice grim. Almost fearful to find out the truth. Harry was, too.

Y/N paused her thoughts as well as her actions, flinching at the sudden intrusion of Connor’s question. She flinched, yelping a little and jumping backwards when the broken water heater subdued the filtering liquid into a burning hot splatter on her skin. Connor picked his feet up in alarm, grabbing at Y/N’s wrist to see the minor injury on the back of her palm.

“Ow!” Y/N whisper-shouted, soothing the ache by situating it between her thighs before shakily showing it to Connor; the doctor.

“Let me see, baby,”

Harry peeked his head around the corner, almost losing his cover with the way his feet instantaneously wanting to move towards a hurting Y/N. Good thing he caught himself. Surely they would put two and two together and realize that Harry was eavesdropping.

That decision came with a laceration to his heart. Harry got a first-class ticket to register that the couple was everything he and Y/N were. The pet names, the domesticity of their actions. The caring glances and constant check-ups.

Deciding to come out of hiding, Harry almost had a heart attack when he turned the corner and was met face to face with Connor. His brows had dipped in worry, face determined to grab some cream to apply to the burn from their first-aid kit in the bathroom. Harry guessed that his whizzing thoughts failed to hear the quiet instruction.

The man jolted in surprise, stopping quickly in his tracks, “Oh hey! Is Halo asleep?” Connor gave him a smile despite the confusion etching in his forehead. Harry nodded dumbly, lips pursing like a fish. “Y/N’s just burned her hand, nothing too serious though,”

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N eyeing the both of them suspiciously, still clutching the burnt skin close to her. “Oh, I see,”

Connor smacked a firm hand on his shoulder, stepping around him to grab the cream. Harry walked towards Y/N, noticing that she was soothing the painful ache with ice wrapped in layers of tissue. She was softly hissing through her teeth once in a while.

“You okay?”

She tilted her head at him, appearing to be dazed out in her thoughts. “Yeah, uh, nothing too bad,”

Harry kept his distance, leaning on the other side of the counter. He started off by saying, “Thank you for giving me this chance,”

Y/N graced him with a smile, standing up straighter when Connor appeared with a tube in his hand. Harry watched as he unscrewed the cap, placing it beside her. He squeezed a bit of the cream unto his fingertip before applying it directly on Y/N’s skin. She winced, wanting to pull her wrist away from his grip but Connor didn’t let her, “It’s gonna be fine, baby,”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, continuing to rub circles on the burn until Y/N visibly relaxed through slouched shoulders and less shaky breaths.

Harry was staring at them like a kicked puppy. He was fussy and frustrated all in one. He wanted the attention that Y/N was giving Connor. He wanted to be Connor, but both of them were too wrapped up in their little love bubble to notice Harry’s squinted eyes and pinched brows.

He was frustrated because even if he wasn’t the direct cause of her pain, Harry had somehow found a way to continue hurting her and Connor was always there to pacify his wrongful actions. Harry hated that this was how fate had planned his life.

Harry cleared his throat, raising a fist to his mouth, “Think I should go,” His thumb pointed over his shoulder, “Uh thank you again,”

Y/N snapped her head to him, gaze lowering in a timid manner as if she forgot that he was even there in the first place. Connor was the first to reply, “Alright, man. See you whenever,” He capped the tub, shoving it in his back pocket to return to its place.

She leaned on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips, muttering something in his ear that had Connor teasingly wrapping his hands on her hips. Harry looked away, taking long strides to the entryway instead.

“Harry, wait!”

He shuddered at the memory of the words that had changed his life when Gemma told him the truth. Harry’s shoe was half-way one when he turned around. “Yeah?”

Y/N was holding a folded brochure, “Halo has a recital this weekend for her dance class,” She handed it to him, “Maybe you’d want to go? You can bring Camille if you want but I think it would be better if you didn’t. She’s still new to this and I don’t want her asking too many questions until she can unders--,”

“I’ll go,” Harry cut her off, unfolding the folded paper. The venue was about twenty minutes away from his place. It was only an hour-long considering the skill set of two-year-olds but it was a fun way for parents to cheer on their little ones. Harry’s previously sour mood was now replaced with giddiness at the sight of his daughter in a pretty pink tutu, twirling on her feet. He was sure that Halo was born to become a performer like him.

She sighed in relief, puffing her cheeks out cutely, “It’s a private dance class. Pretty high end so the security should be okay,”

And there it was again. The constant reminder that Harry was otherworldly to some people. As much as he loved living his lifestyle, he sometimes wished that he was a normie. That was a lot to ask for considering his current situation with his daughter, but a man can dream.

“Got it,”

Y/N leaned over to show him the back of the leaflet, “Just show them this ticket and security should let you in. Halo wanted me to give that to you because she was too shy earlier. I know it’s short notice but I guess she was comfortable enough to ask you,”

Harry blushed at the admittance, mentally patting himself at the back for making his daughter feel at ease in a short amount of time.

“I’ll be there,” He pushed his heel to adorn his sneakers. Y/N bit her lip, she looked hesitant, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go, by the way. I can explain that you’re busy. She’ll probably understand,”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Harry wasn’t going to ruin his progressive relationship with his daughter on ‘probably’. “Y/N, s’alright. No problem, yeah? I’ll be there,”

___

Where was he?

It was two days after the dinner and Harry’s promise of attending Halo’s recital was vanishing with each passing second. Every time the hand of the clock ticked to indicate that another minute had elapsed. Harry still wasn’t jogging through the carpeted middle of the small theatre to where Connor and Y/N were seated. Two empty seats were left at the end of the aisle to aid Harry--and possibly Camille--a smooth arrival without creating any distractions.

There were only five minutes left before the stage crew were to dim the spotlights illuminating the room. Y/N was checking her watch what felt like every second, clicking her phone on and off once in a while worried that something may have happened to Harry. Maybe security wouldn’t let him in. The gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach suggested that Harry just forgot the event tonight but Y/N would cross the bridge when they got to it. Regardless, her nerves were left unsettled as swallowing proved to be more difficult with the way a sip of her water had her gulping audibly. Connor wasn’t there to lend a soft hand on her upper back to help her breathe.

Speaking of, Connor had taken the initiative to visit Halo backstage. The ballet teacher was growing weary of the way the little dancer ran out from beside the stage to stop in front of her parents, asking, “Where’s Hawwy?”.

Halo had done it three times in hopes of receiving an answer aside from, “He’s not here yet,” Y/N tucked a fallen strand of hair from the otherwise sleek bun from beside her cheeks. Her daughter’s form slouching as her pretty eyes watered slightly, “He’s not coming? You told me he was coming, mama,”

Y/N glanced at Connor nervously, being met with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look which didn’t really help the situation. Luckily, the teacher had approached them with a clipboard on hand, searching for the ballerina. The teacher had suggested that one of them stay with her behind the curtain until the show began. Connor volunteered.

“Better hope he comes or else we’ll have to deal with the consequences. I really don’t want to see her heartbroken before of a promise he couldn’t keep,” Connor muttered, following the woman but not before thumbing circles on Y/N’s flushed cheek.

Y/N knew that he meant well. She also didn’t want to comfort a heartbroken Halo because Harry failed to show up where he promised he would be. And now, with a little less than two minutes before showtime, Connor was sent back beside her. Parents were being ushered to find their seats before the lights dimmed and it would be difficult to maneuver through knees and legs.

“Is he here?” Connor questioned, draping a hand on her shaking knee. Y/N shook her head, casting another glance at the auditorium doors. He waved at Halo who peeked her head between the silk curtains, wandering eyes looking at the empty seat beside Y/N.

“No. Hasn’t texted or answered his phone either,” Y/N was about to dial Harry’s contact once more in a desperate attempt to reach him. However, the dimming lights indicated that it was too late. Connor laced their fingers together, offering apologetic eyes and a tight-lipped smile; they would have to nurse a broken heart later tonight.

_____

Harry was in the middle of buttoning his patterned shirt, staring at his reflection in the mirror to silently judge his fashion choice for the night. Was it too much for a kids’ ballet recital? He deemed that it was, stretching his arms to remove the fabric adorning his chest, moving to grab the pink, flamingo patterned shirt instead. He took his time, granted that he had about an hour before the recital started.

He smoothed the fabric over his broad shoulders, pausing when Camille walked in. Harry locked his green eyes at her through the mirror as she walked to their shared bed, sitting at the foot of it.

“What d’ya think?”

She hummed in response, absentmindedly nodding in agreement when Harry asked if it was good. Both Camille and Harry had talked about his relationship with Halo as soon as she landed at the airport. He didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. Fortunately, Camille was very understanding of his situation, offering him support and encouragement to build a bond with his daughter.

What Camille didn’t reveal was that she was a bit antsy of Harry’s relationship with Y/N. She meant everything she had said to him, but it was no guarantee that Harry would ignite another connection with his ex-girlfriend. Not that Camille didn’t trust him. It was just a bit concerning because she believed that how a relationship starts is how it will end. Harry certainly had a history of straying away from his present partner.

Harry was currently in their walk-in closet, finding a pair of slacks that weren't too formal or casual. Camille mulled the thoughts in her head. She loved Harry dearly and would do anything for him. Well, anything except having children of their own. He had mostly accepted her decision, only wincing a little when the topic of a family was brought up by mutual friends and family once in a while.

Truth to be told, Camille was scared. She was afraid that Harry would leave for Y/N because she had Halo. They were the family that he had always wanted and although Camille wasn’t too keen on giving him the same; she was debating on it.

“How’s this, Cam?” Harry retreated with two pairs of pants. On one hand was a pair of straight-leg skinny jeans that he hadn’t worn in years. The other held brown, corduroy, striped slacks. “Or this one?”

She bit her lip, standing up slowly, walking over to him. “What do I think?”

He nodded, innocently jutting his bottom lip at her as he looked back and forth.

Camille swathed her hands on his shoulders, ghosting her mouth over his ear, “I think I like you better without them,” Her finger traced his collarbone, swirling at the dip of his throat. “Without anything,”

Harry gulped harshly. He felt Camille unbuttoning his shirt, gliding her palms downwards until she was cupping his bulge, “Camille, wait,” He flicked his watch to check the time. It took twenty minutes to get there, maybe even more with traffic and parking.

She dragged him to the bed by the ends of his opened shirt, locking her lips with his plush ones. He rested a knee on the mattress, his hands at the back of her head as Camille continued to pull him down.

Pulling away, Harry panted, “What are you doin’?” He laid his creased forehead on hers.

Camille supported herself on her hands, moving her face back until she was able to get a clear view of his perplexed expression, “I was thinking that maybe we could. . . try having a baby, H,” Her voice was soft, almost timid and she was doing her best not to break eye contact to show her sincerity.

Harry gasped in surprise, “Wha--? Really? Are you serious?” His tone gained a pitch as excitement enthralled his senses. The smile on his face was wide and reached his bright eyes. “Baby, are you sure?”

Camille nodded, grinning softly. “Yes,’

“Oh my--this is. . .,” Harry pulled at the locks of his hair, pacing around the room. “This is great! Our own family. Jesus. I can’t believe it,” Tears sprung on his corneas.

He kneeled between her legs, taking her wrist and pressing a gentle kiss on her skin, murmuring ‘I love you’ repeatedly.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” Camille asked, spreading her legs rhetorically. Harry observed her position, nodding enthusiastically.

Another glance at his watch indicated that Harry was absolutely pushing it with being late to Halo’s recital. Yet one enchanting kiss from Camille wiped his thoughts clean. He was getting what he wanted; a family of his own.

___

Let us know what you thought! The seventh part of the Tarnish series will be uploaded on Patreon on Sept 29!

___

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[outivv]

Boy do I have an angsty request for you :D So The Boys confess their love to their crush, but she asks them if they take her for a fool, because she believes that they're using her as a substitute for someone they couldn't have. Like Zhongli with Guizhong and Dainsleif with Lumine, etc. She doesn't believe they love her because she's been in a toxic relationship like that before, and it left her heartbroken. Just sum angst with maybe sum comfort. Also congrats on 801 followers! ＼(≧▽≦)／♡

Synopsis: it’a happened a few too many times, being used as a replacement. So when (idk insert a character from the tall boys group) confessed to her, she doesn’t believe it.

Warnings: angst, and mentions of a toxic relationship, I also made y/n a bit... bitchy(?) in the beginning of kaeyas part. Flat out I made them kinda rude.

Game/ fandom: genshin impact

Characters: zhongli, Diluc, childe, kaeya, and Dainsleif

Pronouns for reader: she/ her (I assume that’s what you wanted... if not then I apologize)

A/n: I am in love with this request oh my god. Zhongli and guizhongs relationship pains me so much, like all of the fanart and headcanons for them it just ahhh. Makes me so sad. But aside from that, thank you for congratulating me it means a lot ☺️. It’s a lot of fun seeing how far I’ve come, and with that I hope you enjoy and take care of yourself! Remember to eat something if you haven’t and drink water you amazing human!!! <3

— zhongli —

Zhongli built up the courage to confess to you while stargazing one night. Only to have his hopes and dreams crushed. You though he was lying? He was using you? Why would he ever do such a thing to someone he admired and loved?

“I know your past relationship with guizhong... I’m not an idiot zhongli. I know that you’re going to use me to get over her.” You said coldly with a deadpan expression.

He didn’t understand... how could you think that he’d hold on for that long. He loved her once, but then... then he didn’t. It was hard to explain his feelings, but he knew that it was different with you. He didn’t know how to express that though.

Zhongli pondered for a second before saying, “I wouldn’t do such a thing even if I still loved her. I’ve moved on, and I want to be with you now. My words are true and are straight from the heart.” You still were hesitant though.

You wanted to be with zhongli, but were too scared to be. Past relationships made you have trust issues when it came to giving someone access to your feelings. Because you’d let them in only for them to move on from you weeks later. You were the recovery girl, the practice dummy, only there to get their confidence back.

Zhongli wouldn’t treat you like that though... would he? He could see the gears in your head turning with worry, so he cupped your face in his hands and said, “I would never say something I didn’t mean. Especially something as serious as this.” And kissed your forehead.

Butterflies formed in your stomach at the closeness, and you could feel yourself getting emotional. You hugged him tightly, and nodded, a way of saying that you trust him. He wouldn’t take your trust for granted.

— childe —

Childe wouldn’t like to admit it but he’s had few partners in the past. Being more focused on fatui work, and not wanting to hurt anyone. You had him wrapped around your finger though. He’s never felt this connected, and emotionally attached to someone. It took him a while to sort out his feelings but here he is, confessing to you.

As soon as the words left his mouth he felt a weight lift off of his shoulder, only to be replaced with a nauseous feeling growing in his stomach. “Childe... I know what happened with your last partner. I’m not going to be a replacement.” Replacement? Is that how you thought he viewed you...

Before he could think he said, “no! It’s not like that you’re way more than just a replacement! I haven’t spoken to them in ages, I don’t even know where they are now... how can I still be in love with them.” He made a valid point. You still were cautious though.

Not wanting to get your heart broken again you took baby steps. Your heart was fragile, and surrounded by walls to protect it. It took a lot to break down those walls, but maybe, just maybe could childe do it.

“I haven’t felt this attached to someone, I know that sounds stupid, or cliche, but that is truly how I feel.” He said pouring his heart out. He took your hands into his and looked into your eyes, his own bright blue ones full of love and honesty.

“I’ve loved you since I first saw you. I tried to get your attention many times, and now I finally have it, do you really think I’d lie about anything that I’m saying?” He said, his voice hushed, and his face painted with a smile.

You muttered a no, looking away from his intense gaze. “Well there you have it!” He shouted, a contrast to his previous attitude. “Do you believe me now?” He gently grabbed your chin to make you look at him. He smiled goofily waiting for an answer. How could you saw no to him when he looked so excited?

— kaeya —

Kaeya has been with many lovers in the past, none of them were serious relationships, he never quite found the right person. Until you.

It took a long time for kaeya to confess to you, afraid to get rejected, and break an amazing friendship he built up. His fear was proved to be correct when he confessed to you though. “Kaeya I know about your past lover. They wouldn’t shut up about you...” you said your arms crossed “I know that I’m just the rebound, they still talk about you after months, clearly they still like you. Why go for me when you can go back to them hm? You’d probably do it in a week anyways.”

Wow... he didn’t know you thought so... horribly of him. For once kaeya was speechless, he was so hurt that he couldn’t think straight. “I wouldn’t go back to them even if I was forced to. Why would you think that of me...” Kaeya said speaking the truth. He hated his most previous lover, they were a god awful person, so he left them.

“That’s what everyone does. They get with me, and then leave when they’ve regained their confidence and go get the girl that they originally wanted, or go back to their ex.. as simple as that.” You said coldly. You were treated like a doll to be tossed around, and mistreated until the person got what they wanted from you. You weren’t about to get your heart torn to shreds by someone you came to love.

Kaeya was shocked even more by your words. Were you really treated that way? He felt angry, and hurt all at the same time. He looked at you apologetically, and pulled you into a hug. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Ever. I wouldn’t take this long to confess to someone if I didn’t really care about them.” He said putting his hand on your head. You could feel tears pricking your eyes at his sudden show of affection. You’ve come to trust kaeya with your life, so his words meant something to you.

“Seriously it took me ages to do this.” He said with a chuckle, an attempt to lighten the mood a bit. You let out a laugh yourself, pulling away from his hug and rubbing your eyes. He truly did know how to put a smile on your face.

— Diluc —

Diluc contemplated his feelings for you for months. He didn’t want to get his own heart broken, and he never had been in a serious relationship with someone. He’s never wanted to be in a serious relationship with someone. He was the most sought after bachelor in all of mondstadt, and he had no interest in anyone. Until you.

He wanted to make sure what he was feeling was love, and not a... strong yearning to be your friend. Oddly enough he’s never had that feeling either.

He confessed to you one night, showing you a beautiful sight of the ocean from stormbearer point. He oddly loved the ocean, so he thought it was a perfect place to confess to you. Sadly you rejected him. His heart sank and he felt embarrassed.

Though he held his composure, and asked, “I... I see. May I ask... why?” He wanted at least some sort of explanation. He thought he was owed that at least? “Diluc. You’re the most sought after man in all of mondstadt, you could, or better yet would, leave me in a week.” You said bluntly.

He.. didn’t understand. He had paid no mind to any of the people who wanted him, and finally he had some sort of attraction to someone and they say he’d leave her in a moments notice? Why would he ever do that? “I’ve... I haven’t felt this way about anyone. Why would I leave you for someone I don’t even like?” Diluc said confused.

You looked at him sadly and coldly, “because you can.” You said shortly “you can, and then you’d be just like everyone else.” Everyone else? What did you mean everyone else?

Diluc walked closer to you, and put his hand on the back of your head saying, “I don’t know what you mean by everyone else, but I can assure you I’m not like them. I’ve never felt anything close to this until I met you.” His words were from the heart, and you could tell.

Diluc was a man to speak what was on his mind, and to speak the truth. Even he knows not to play with someone’s feelings. He wouldn’t go out of his way to cause someone pain, he’s too familiar with the feeling himself. He would only treat you with the utmost care, and you could relax and let your guard down around him.

— Dainsleif —

Dainsleif is a man who has seen many people in his lifetime, only truly growing romantically attached to you. He loved once in the past but... they turned out to be... on the wrong side.

Traveling with him for about a year made him trust you, as you trusted him. It also made him love you, as you hopefully loved him. He confessed one rainout night as you took shelter in a ruin in liyue.

He could feel his jaw drop and his heart sink when you said, “dain... I can’t... I don’t want you to leave me... I... I care about you. A lot. And I don’t want to lose you.” Your voice was shaky and sad. His heart broke hearing it.

“Why would you lose me? I want to stay with you, that’s why I’m saying this.” He said starting to get worried. You looked at the ground in front of you, snuggling into the blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders before saying, “that always leave... so I left for once. I left my hometown and started traveling with you...” your voice started to crack as tears started to form in your eyes. “I don’t want to go back there. I want to stay with you, and travel and...” you cut yourself off with your own sob.

You truly cared about dain, and you’ve grown rather attached to him. But you had an inkling feeling that he’d leave you like your past lovers. His heart broke for a second time that night, and he scooted closer to you wrapping his arms around your smaller frame, and kissing the top of your head.

“I wouldn’t leave you. Especially not when I’ve come this attached to you.” He said kissing the crown of your head once more. You have felt more at home traveling teyvat with Dainsleif than you have in the very twin that you grew up in.

[sullustangin]

The Expendables

A brief ditty about three kill options (and I kept it under 1500 words!). 

Post-KotET

“All right. You go get your stuff, and I’ll keep an eye on the ship.”

Arcann nodded, silently, as he opened the shuttle door and jumped out onto the landing pad on top of the palace at the heart of Zakuul.

Annnnd that left Koth, with Senya, waiting.  “You aren’t going with him?”

Senya looked out of the viewport at the traffic that moved below them.  “I took my possessions with me when I left his father.  There’s nothing for me here.”

“Ok.”  Koth drummed his fingers on the dashboard.  It wasn’t out of nerves -- not anymore.  He was impatient.  He didn’t want to be here.  He loved Zakuul.. but his home wasn’t on this planet.  Wasn’t anywhere yet, to be honest.  He was only here because Lana asked him to do her a favor. 

Both Koth and Senya knew what that favor really was. 

“Maybe you can help hurry him along? Grab a bag, make a suggestion...?”  Koth gestured toward the door.

Senya shook her head.  “He needs his privacy.  The Alliance has watched him very closely since he arrived -- which I understand!” Senya said a bit quicker and louder than necessary.  “I just want to give him a few moments alone with his thoughts.”  She cast a look at the door that led down into the residence.  “You know, they’re turning this place into a museum.  And a mall.”

Koth leaned back in his seat.  “Well, finally gives people a chance to see what their taxes paid for over the last few centuries.”

Senya sat on the edge of her seat, constantly looking over at where her son had disappeared.  

Koth sighed, loudly.

“Could you --?”

“You just don’t want to catch him getting his girlie holo collection.”

Senya huffed, then withdrew slightly.  “I-I-I don’t know if he has girlie holos... or boy-ie holos.  I left before he ... went through those changes.”  Senya’s shame was laced through the sentence.  She was never going to forgive herself for leaving, was she.

“Well, he clearly likes girls, at least, since that’s why I’m here.”  Koth looked over at Senya.  “You let Arcann try to ask the Captain out or something, and now I’m here because Lana doesn’t want Spy Guy letting Arcann accidentally, mysteriously fall off a building.”

Senya pressed her lips together before replying.  “War -- conflict makes and breaks relationships.  I didn’t know how permanent --”

“Woman, your son threw his kinda sorta girlfriend into a freezer for five years.  He didn’t get over it. And now you let Arcann make a move?  You’re lucky Theron kept that to himself instead of telling the Wookiee.  You wanna see paternal panic?  Lord.”  Bowdaar was awesome, and Koth would have him serving on the Gravestone if he didn’t know the big guy wouldn’t stand being parted from Eva, his captain. 

Senya closed her eyes, and for a split second, Koth thought he’d made her cry and that was soooo NOT HIS INTENT.  Koth’s internal panic was quelled when she spoke, more tired and frustrated than tearful.  “It was the first time he expressed any positive interest in anyone that wasn’t me or his siblings.  So many years since he... Since he wasn’t trying to get revenge or best a rival in combat or play politics.  Maybe he was too awkward and came on too strong -- but I didn’t want to discourage that the first positive impulse he’d had in over ten years.”  

Koth tipped his forehead forward to rest on the piloting controls of the shuttle. He’d spent years blaming Arcann for the downfall of Zakuul. Knowing that it was the old emperor playing everyone made him hate Arcann less, but... it was honestly mindblowing to watch the guy hit ‘reply all’ to a Odessen holonet announcement to ask about how to do laundry. It proved how disconnected Arcann had been from reality all these years. 

(Lana made Koth help, once she knew via securiy holo that he’d literally been sitting next to Arcann as he’d done it.)

Arcann needed a friend to clean out his old apartment.  Well, the Force, Providence, the Galaxy, Lana -- they all moved in mysterious ways that had led Koth here. 

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

**

Koth found Arcann standing in the remains of a bedroom.  It had been blasted to shreds, the contents of every chest, every drawer scattered everywhere.  A fire had kindled on the bed for awhile before dying out.  Koth let out a low whistle, which caught Arcann’s attention.  “Vaylin redecorated in my absence.”

Koth stifled a laugh.  Arcann had a dry wit that came out when he wasn’t brooding or being clueless about normal people life. “She leave you anything?”

“A few things.”  Arcann held up an old carved box.

Koth recognized it as one of those multi-dimensional chess sets that only the richest people could afford.  “Anything I can do to help?”  Koth offered.

Arcann motioned around the room.  “If you find something not broken, let me know.”  The former ruler turned his scarred side in Koth’s direction.  “That might only be yourself.” 

A dry wit with a heavy dose of self-hate. 

The two men sifted through the remains of the room.  Koth managed to find one or two datapads that escaped Vaylin’s wrath.  Arcann pulled some clothes out of his closet -- all whites and blacks.  Maybe they could get the smoke damage out back at base. 

As Koth straightened up and cracked his back, he heard Arcann say, “She let me live because it infuriated my father.”

“Huh?”

“He told her to kill me.  So many times.  Even as she took the throne -- you know what she said to him?”

Koth hadn’t asked anyone what happened at the time.  He just sat in the ship, gazing down at Zakuul as all the lights blinked back on as people emerged from hiding and the darkness.

“She told him she’d give the throne back to me, just to spite him, if he didn’t shut his mouth.”

Koth smiled openly now.  “That sounds like Eva, all right.”  His grin waned slightly as he saw Arcann standing there, torn between laughing and ... not laughing at all.  “Well, at least you know she hates you less than your old man.”

“I’m alive because of her spite.  It... it hadn’t occurred to me that wasn’t the best basis for... companionship.. until after...” 

Koth read Arcann like a damn holonovel -- captains knew how to do that for the safety of their ship, getting a quick assessment in just a few glances.  “You went back after she gave you the brush off.  And she got meaner about it.  Told you--”

“Agent Shan’s presence in her ship after hours also bolstered the fact she hadn’t spared me out of any affection.” 

Koth cringed. “Arcann, you gotta give up on her or else she will kill you.  Or he will. Or Bowdaar.  Or the rest of her crew, now that they’re back with her.  She’s got a lot of people who aren’t afraid of going to jail for her.” 

And Koth was one of them, if he was honest.  Technically, he’d go to jail for Lana after Lana killed someone for her. 

Arcann exhaled through his nose.  “She didn’t kill me at the ball, so I assumed she --”  His throat bobbed as he stared around his old room one last time, balling up the smoke-infested garments and tucking them under his arm.  “I only knew love and hate.  There was no mercy.  There was never an in-between.  Nobody was permitted to live unless they were a stalwart ...Nothing was neutral or grey.  There was just white and black.”  He looked down at his clothes.  “I have much to learn.”

Arcann dropped the white and black clothes.  As he started to let the chess set slip from his hands, Koth darted over, easily intercepting the small chest before it hit the floor.  “Hey, the wardrobe needs an update.  But... you’ll find someone good to play with on Odessen, someday.”  Koth grasped the chest one-handed and braced it against his chest to make sure he didn’t drop it.  “For now, you’ll have to settle for teaching my impatient self.”

Arcann smiled, slightly. 

[trollartistry]

Fleeting Reunion

Doing a drabble again! No art this time, but I might draw it later. I had the idea of ‘what if Nemi reunited with Classic Freddy as an adult?’ and wanted to do something with it.

Now, just an FYI, this drabble’s based on the idea that *somehow* and for *some* reason, the old classic animatronics were kept and used as parts or something for the new Glamrocks. Also dunno what year Security Breach canonly is in so I’m using our current year, 2021. So I’m really breaking canon here- oh well.

Story under the read more!

The first time Nemi discovered the old, beat down classics, he was shocked and thought he had been seeing things. Tucked deep in the pizzaplex was a parts and services room, and while he worked as a nightguard, on occasion he’d act as a mechanic. The man only had been looking for a basic piece to replace in Monty’s arm as it had broken mid golf swing, and it was an easy fix. But Nemi found more than just the part he needed- he found 4 familiar animatronics from the pizzeria he used to go to as a child; Foxy, Bonnie, Chica, and of course Freddy.

It plagued his mind, and it unnerved him every time he had to go into that room. They weren’t even that dismantled, if anything just.. broken. The foam and fabric on all of them torn, Chica’s hands were missing, Bonnie’s face was gone, and Foxy looked shredded up along his limbs and ear. Freddy was the only one that looked mostly decent, but the state he was in infuriated the nightguard. All of these beloved robots, just dumped in the back with no care in the world.

And then Nemi’s thoughts went from a simple, curious walk to a manic, inquisitive run. Were they the same four from that old pizzeria he attended on a weekly basis when he was a child? Why were they here? Could they still work if he powered them up? What would he even do once he turned them all on and they were the old ones he once knew? ...Would Freddy remember who he was, if Nemi was to power him up? 

Finally his willpower broke one night. He had to know. He would only power up Freddy, just to see what would happen. If it wasn’t the same Freddy as the one all those years ago, he’d just shut him back off and let his burning questions fizzle to forgotten ash. And if it was the same Freddy, well.. they could at least catch up.

He spent a good month or so sneaking in, fiddling with wires and parts to make sure the bot could turn on without much difficulty. Thankfully, it seemed any evidence of his tampering either went unnoticed, or wasn’t reported cuz no one ever stopped him. And finally, one night, he was done. All there was left to do was flick the switch and power Freddy up. Nemi took a breath in, muttered his hope, and flicked the switch.

Sparks sputtered and the whole frame of Freddy jolted as power ran through his circuits, causing Nemi to jump back. Inside there was whirring, old inner workings flowing with electricity. The man watched, unsure if his heart was racing with hope or anxiety as the bot’s eyes twitched a bit, before blinking, focusing in on the darkened room and the person before him.

Freddy sat up against the wall, ears tilting a little and he blinked once, twice. Nemi could tell he was confused immediately, the way his eyebrows furrowed and he shut his jaw in a pursed manner. There was silence, an uncomfortable silence and Nemi didn’t know what to say or do, Freddy was just sitting there..

As Nemi opened his mouth, Freddy blinked with some recognition and spoke, unsure, “..*D-Deadname*?”

It’s a name that hasn’t been used by friends or family in so many years, only used for legal manners. But hearing it makes Nemi choke on his words as his heart clenches with emotion. So it is the same Freddy, and he recognizes him even after all these years.

“..Y-yea, it’s me, Freddy.” Nemi said, coming back over to kneel down before the sitting bot, unable to help but grin at him. “I don’t- don’t go by that anymore b-but it’s me.”

Freddy’s silent as he looks the man over, obviously a bit frazzled seeing someone he last saw as a child now kneeling before him as a grown man. He then looks around the room, and sees all of the different parts, and his fellow animatronics. He’s quiet as he takes it all in, and even though he’s old and worn, Freddy was wise and knew what this entailed. They weren’t in use anymore and instead replaced.

“I uh.. go by Nemi now.” Nemi said, bringing the bot’s attention back to him. Freddy blinked, then softly hummed a little as he nodded, “Nemi.. it’s.. unique.”

“Heh.. yea, got it during highschool.” Nemi replied. It’s quiet again and Freddy’s once again looking around, and Nemi wiped his watery eyes before deciding to explain, “You uh.. You’re in Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaplex. The year’s 2021.. I guess you guys are being used as parts now.”

“2021?” Freddy asked, attention back on Nemi. The man nods and Freddy gives a quiet sigh, “..I’m amazed we’re still in solid pieces then. Or that I even work..” He looked down at himself.

“I uh.. had to fix you quite a bit actually just to get you to t-turn on..” Nemi said with a shrug. He’s looking over Freddy again, and now that the animatronic’s on and talking, it makes his withered state hurt Nemi all the more. Freddy doesn’t miss the first tears dripping down the man’s face and he tries to distract him from his emotions, “Hey.. at least my name’s still out there, right? Surely there’s another model of me still keeping an eye on you.” He smiled.

Nemi’s heart only hurts more than that. Glamrock Freddy was just as incredible as the classic, if not more, and sure, the man loves him dearly.. but he could hear his younger self weep in the back of his mind, ‘But that’s not MY Freddy!’ Nemi clenches his eyes shut at that, a sniffle escaping him, and Freddy quietly sighs before he opens his arms, the old joints creaking. “Shh.. come here, it’s okay.”

The guard, though grown, can’t help but immediately close the distance to hug the beloved animatronic, a sob escaping him. Freddy holds him close, and recalls the few times he did this to Nemi when he was a little girl. He begins to try and play the same tune he did back then, but realizes he no longer has his music box, only a soft clicking noise coming from the inner crank that was left installed to turn it. So instead, Freddy talks and hopes his voice offers that same comfort.

“I missed you.. It’s nice to see you grown up.” Freddy said softly, removing the security hat from Nemi’s head to stroke his hair soothingly. Nemi manages to whimper out that he missed the bot as well, along with an apology that makes Freddy hush him softly, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Nemi..”

The brunette pulls back a little, shaking his head as he tries to wipe those spilled tears, “I-I didn’t even get to say goodbye to you back then when I had to move.. A-And now, here you are, i-in the back of a damn mall collecting d-dust and in pieces-” He began, and a old paw cups his cheek.

“None of that is your fault.” Freddy said as he comforted the man, “What matters is you had a good life after your time with me. I knew I would eventually be taken down from the spotlight, either for good or for a new model to replace me.. it happens, Nemi.”

Nemi looks at the bot who gives him a warm smile, the same smile he would give him all those years ago. It calms some of those bubbling sorrows, but Nemi still can’t help but sniffle.

“It’s been, what.. 10 or so years? And you’ve changed so much.. we have time, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? Just like old times.” Freddy offered, and Nemi nodded.

He told the bear about his father’s passing, the many years of moving before he ended up in his aunt and uncle’s care. How he discovered his own identity and realized he was a man, and graduated highschool by the skin of his teeth. Freddy listened to all of it, just like how he used to listen to Nemi as a child talk about his days back then. He then asked about the pizzaplex and how the man enjoyed working there, and Nemi in turn talked about the whole place and the Glamrock animatronics. Freddy’s amused at how Nemi talks about Glamrock Freddy- its that same admiration the man had for Freddy back then.. and something more, Freddy can tell. The conversation helped Nemi calm down and it was comforting to Freddy himself to know he was still loved by people, even if it was a completely different model. But a glance to his watch told Nemi he only had another hour or two before his shift was up. Before his time with Freddy, was up.

“..Y’know,” Nemi began after a silent moment of just being close to the bot, “I think- I think they’d get along fine with you and the others.. I could work on them too, get them up and running, and-”

“No.” Freddy shuts down the idea with a frown. It hurts to do so, but he knows his place. “I’ve had my time on the stage. We all have..”

The nightguard looks shocked at Freddy’s answer, and tries to change his mind, “F-Freddy c’mon, it’ll be fine! Maybe- Maybe HR would consider refurbishing you guys and you can be part of it all even-!” He said, voice cracking with desperation and Freddy cups the man’s face again, eyes sternly looking down at him.

“You and I both know that’s not how it would go, Nemi.” He said, “Even if we got along with the Glamrocks, it’d be trouble for all of us to be on again. You already risked your job just to get me back online, do you know how much trouble you’ll get into if you left me on?”

“I don’t care!” Nemi exclaimed, not caring just how childish he sounded, “Do you know how much I missed you when I had to leave?! And now here at my job I find your- your broken body just laying here and not know if it was really you and now that I put in all that work, it really IS you?! I-I can’t just- power you back down and forget about you after this, I-I wont! I love you too much to lose you again!!”

There’s a silence, and Nemi’s face grows red as he realizes what he said was selfish and childish of him, along with a confession for the old bot. Freddy’s surprised to hear it, but he then smiles, brushing back some of the brunette hair.

“I know. But you’ve never lost me nor forgot about me, have you? You got a job at a place with my name still in it, along with getting along with another me.” Freddy said warmly, “I know it’s hard.. but it’s for the best. If you kept me on, it would jeopardize everything and you could lose everything you have here.. including that Glamrock version of me.”

Nemi’s eyes widen, before looking away with sorrow at the thought of losing Glamrock Freddy. Freddy was right, but the thought of having to turn him back off had Nemi’s heart twisting in agony. “..B-but.. I can’t..” He whimpered, and Freddy pulled him back into the embrace.

“I know it’s hard.. but you have to.” Freddy murmured. “I’ll still be here, in more ways than one.”

Nemi nodded, fresh tears spilling as he let out another sob, “Can- can I hear your song, just one last time..?”

Freddy may of not had his music box, but he began to hum softly, letting the man hear that tune once more. They stayed there in the darkness of the room, Nemi quietly crying in Freddy’s arms as he listened, before sitting up as the last few notes were hummed. Nemi opened up the bot’s chest, reaching in to that power switch and looked up at Freddy, the two sharing one last gaze.

“G-Goodbye, Freddy..”

“Goodbye, Nemi.”

And with a flip of the switch, the sound of machinery powering down echoed in Nemi’s ears as he watched the life fade from Freddy’s eyes as he slumped against the wall, eyelids closing over. The man closed the chest plate, staring at the bot with a heavy heart before picking up his hat and getting up. He went to the door, pausing to take one glance back to the beloved bear, before exiting the room, the thud of the door closing behind him echoing down the hall.

A week later when he has to go in to that same room, he’s griefstricken to see the four bodies of the classic animatronics were gone for good and for the rest of that night, it’s spent sticking close to Glamrock Freddy as the new, shiny Glamrock model of his beloved childhood friend still brought the man comfort and happiness.

[hazellvesque]

your wounds; my sutures

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians/The Trials of Apollo

Rating: PG

Pairing: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace

Summary: When Will Solace, Camp Half-Blood’s greatest healer, is the one who gets hurt in battle, the son of Hades has to step up to the plate and put the skills he learned in the infirmary to good use. 

Word Count: 2,572

Warnings: graphic descriptions of cuts, blood, stitches, and questionable amateur medical practice.

Read on Ao3

* * *

The second he caught sight of the gaping wound in his boyfriend’s shoulder, Nico almost blacked out. It was hard to believe Will was even still conscious with so much blood seeping out.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Will’s voice was strained, yet somehow calm, as if he hadn’t just taken a direct hit from the dangerous end of a sword. He was sitting on the ground, using his good arm to keep himself propped upright. The wound slashed across his shoulder blade, beginning just a few inches to the right of the base of his neck. The weapon had cut straight through his shirt, leaving tattered scraps of fabric as the only discretionary cover for the graphic injury. 

“Nico? Are you still with me?”

“You’re bleeding,” Nico said lamely, snapping back to reality, still not quite believing what he was seeing. 

He’d seen much worse in the past. Hell, he’d caused much worse. But this was Will Solace. He was Camp Half-Blood’s greatest healer. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who got hurt, ever. 

If Nico could, he would resurrect the monster just to kill it all over again. It deserved a punishment far worse than evaporating into golden dust, but at least the satisfaction might quell Nico’s anger a bit. He couldn’t stop staring at the wound. Fortunately, Will was faced away from him. Nico imagined the pained expression on Will’s face, how he was probably fighting to keep his lopsided, reassuring smile bright despite it all. 

“What do we do?” Nico spoke quietly, but desperately. 

The two boys were utterly exhausted. The fight had taken nearly everything out of them. Will’s own healing abilities couldn’t possibly work well right now - he was so weak he could hardly sit upright on his own. Nico thought of shadow traveling to Camp or even to the nearest hospital; he’d have to do some quick thinking to explain the situation to a mortal doctor, but the idea was quickly shut down by the black fuzziness already creeping into the corners of his vision. He probably wouldn’t be able to move himself ten feet without passing out. 

They’d have to solve this the old-fashioned way. 

Will gestured with his head towards his bag. It lay a few feet away, discarded early in the fight and no doubt now containing a few broken supplies and squished ambrosia squares.

“Grab some supplies for me? I don’t want to move too much and make it worse.” Will said, his breathing labored. “You’re going to have to help me clean and close it up.”

“Right.” Nico nodded a little too fast, hardly processing Will’s words at all. 

Nico dashed over to Will’s backpack and tore it open. In moments, the grass was strewn with miscellaneous bandages, ice packs, and burn creams that would be utterly useless in helping solve the problem at hand. He searched for the vial of nectar he knew should be there, and swore under his breath when he found it shattered, the pieces of broken glass nicking his fingertips and the golden liquid seeping into the canvas fabric, causing an utterly useless sticky mess. Reaching further, Nico pulled out everything he thought would be useful - gloves, cloth, peroxide, and the small suture kit box at the very bottom of the bag. 

He rushed back to Will’s side, fighting the wave of nausea that hit him, both from sight of the cut and from standing up too fast. He quickly pulled on the latex gloves, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

“You remember the first step in treating a wound?” Will asked.

“I have to clean it. And apply pressure to stop the bleeding,” Nico recited mechanically. Then he paused, head tilted, mouth scrunched in annoyance. “I can’t believe you’re turning this into a medical lesson.”

“Never a bad time to brush you up on your basic skills.” 

“This is anything but basic.” Nico’s hands trembled so hard that he nearly dropped the tools in his hands. “I can’t really see the whole thing. I’m going to have to-“ he gulped, silently chiding himself for how stupid he felt for asking, “-to take off your shirt. Cut it off, I mean. To get to the, uh...” 

Even through what must have been some of the worst physical pain of his life, Will chuckled. “If you want to prevent me from bleeding out, then yes, unfortunately, you’re going to have to see me shirtless. Did you grab the scissors?” 

“No,” Will’s shirt was already torn nearly to shreds, and precious time was slipping away. Biting back his mortification, Nico took hold of the already torn collar of Will’s orange camp shirt and ripped straight down, letting the cotton fibers fall apart in his hands. He quickly tore in two other places, removing the blood-stained fabric entirely. 

Any embarrassing implication of his actions was immediately shut down by the now clearer sight of the dark red stickiness quickly streaking down the right side of Will’s body.  

“Talk to me, Nico, what’s going on?”

Nico half-consciously began soaking the cloth in peroxide. “Isn’t this going to sting?” 

“Like hell,” Will made a hmph sound under his breath, then he laughed, “I know it was super common back in your day to do this-”

“I’m going to forgive you for that because you’re hurt right now.” 

“But peroxide on deep wounds can do more harm than good, so really, this is a last resort, since we don’t have any nectar. Even just clean water or soap would be better, but that doesn’t matter now. Just…don’t use a lot, just enough to make sure nothing gets infected. Give me something to hold on to?” 

With his right hand, Nico held the folded, peroxide-soaked rag precariously close to Will’s injured shoulder. His left hand silently slipped into Will’s and squeezed tight. “Do you want me to tell you when?”

“No, just go for it.” 

He went for it. 

Three of Nico’s senses sparked to life all at once: the sound of Will biting back a scream ringing in his ears, the gruesome sight of the cut bubbling from the peroxide chemicals burned into his eyes, and the feeling of all of the bones in his left hand being crushed by Will’s iron grip as he squeezed in desperation from the pain. 

“I’m sorry!” Nico cried. He twisted the already red-soaked cloth in his hand so that he could use the clean side to put more pressure on the cut. He could feel the heat radiating off Will’s body, which sent an odd shiver down his spine. 

“Don’t be,” Will said, though the tone of his voice would suggest otherwise. “You’re doing everything right. You should be more sorry about the stitches you’re going to have to put in.”

If he hadn’t been so focused on stopping the bleeding, Nico’s arms would have dropped uselessly to his sides in shock. Instead, he let his jaw do the dropping. “The what I’m going to have to put where? Will, I can’t-“ 

“If I can pull a baby out of a cloud nymph, you can learn how to properly stitch someone up.” Will hissed through gritted teeth. 

“But-”

“I can’t be the only one reattaching limbs at Camp, I need help sometimes so you may as well get practice now.”

“I’m not exactly the best at healing people. Quite the opposite, actually.” 

“I’ll talk you through it,” Will squeezed Nico’s hand, which Nico hadn’t realized he was still holding. “If it were practically anywhere else on my body I would just do it myself, but I got hit in the worst possible spot.”

Nico dropped the bloody cloth and sat back on his heels, dumbfounded. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Will reassured him. “I promise. I trust you.” 

The bold statement made Nico flush, his heart rate increasing even more, though by now he thought that would have been impossible. With his new determination, he opened the small box from Will’s bag. Inside lay a small, curved needle already threaded with a thin black cord, two differently shaped pairs of what looked like fancy tweezers, a small pair of scissors, and a tiny blade Nico hoped he wouldn’t have to use. 

“How do I do this?” Nico steeled himself, swallowing down his doubts. 

Will quickly explained the basic process: Nico would need to use both of the “tweezers” - one of which was actually a needle holder - simultaneously. One would be used to hold the skin in place and the other, as the name suggested, was to push the needle through. Then, he’d have to tie off the thread like a knot and cut off any excess. Rinse and repeat all the way up, until hopefully the cut would be closed well enough to not reopen on the way to get professional care. 

Nico delicately traced his gloved hand across the bottom of the cut, right where he’d need to start stitching. The bleeding had subsided, but Will’s skin was still too warm and bright red. 

He got to work right away. 

The first stitch was the most difficult. Nico had wielded swords as long as he was tall, but the intimidation of putting a tiny, intentional hole in someone was somehow worse. His hands trembled as he pushed the needle through one side, out the other, and knotted the thread tight. 

“Does that hurt?” Nico asked timidly. 

Will hesitated before answering: “Not as much as getting myself slashed open in the first place.” 

Glad to see he still had a sense of humor, despite it all. 

Nico continued his diligent work, taking about a minute to complete each tiny stitch. He’d probably need to do about 20 more to get the wound closed entirely. 

“This...reminds me,” Will said, his voice sounding far-away and dreamy. Whether it was blissful reminiscing or exhaustion, it was difficult to tell. “Of Manhattan. And Annabeth.”

“What about Annabeth?” 

Will was rambling now, taking his mind off the pain in the only way he could. “She was hit in the same place. Protecting Percy. During the battle against Kronos. I was the one who healed her back then. We were all looking for my brother Michael when Percy dragged me out of the search party and said he needed a healer. He was really freaked out, it was kind of scary to be honest. I’m pretty sure that was the first time anyone outside of my own cabin even acknowledged my existence,” Will took a deep breath, and after a heavy pause, he muttered, “I was made head counselor as soon as the battle was over.”

With all the losses they’d faced over the last few years, it was sadly almost too easy for Nico to forget that Will had lost at least four of his siblings during the Battle of Manhattan. Everyone coped with trauma and loss differently, but you wouldn’t look at Will Solace and think that he was hurting. Then again, Will’s optimism and willingness to constantly help others may very well have been a way to disguise that hurt. He hadn’t been able to help the people he’d lost. 

Nico had been about to express his condolences when Will asked, “Where were you during all of that?”

“Convincing my dad to let me borrow his dead army,” Nico laughed humorlessly, the memory rushing back to him. “And helping protect Percy’s parents.”

Will’s head tilted. “What were Percy’s parents doing on the battlefield?” 

“Sally Jackson is a powerhouse of a woman and will stop at nothing, not even a Titan. Plus, I felt like I kind of owed it to Percy after...everything I’d done.” 

Will made a humming sound, as if to say that’s fair. Over the past few months, Nico had opened up more about his early years at Camp Half-Blood. Even now, he felt a pang of regret for how he used to behave towards the people who were only trying to help him. Will didn’t know all of the details, of course, but he knew enough to understand. 

“I remember seeing you out there,” Nico continued, his voice a whisper. “We hadn’t even spoken before, but I knew who you were.”

Will responded just as quietly. “I knew you, too.” 

Not in the ‘I’d heard the whispers about the reclusive son of Hades’ way, or the ‘I knew about the boy who had lost his sister’ way. No; he’d said it like a confession. 

“You-,” Nico swallowed hard, “you did?”

“You kind of fascinated me,” Will murmured. “Can you believe it only took me another year to actually speak to you?”

Nico felt his heart jolt in his chest. Why hadn’t he known this before? If he knew any better, he’d think Will was only confessing this now because of his delirium. Or maybe he’d wanted to admit it for a long time. Nico knew exactly how that felt. 

“And you initiated conversation by asking me to touch your hands that had just birthed a baby. Real smooth, Solace. No wonder I liked you so much.” 

With that, Nico tied off the final suture, cut the excess thread, and carefully placed the tools back in the box. 

“I think...I think it’s done?” Nico exhaled, finally letting his hands tremble freely, begging for the pent up anxiety to somehow release through his fingertips. 

Slowly, carefully, Will reached back behind his head with his left arm, tracing his hand across the delicate stitches, checking for error. Nico stared intensely, only just now taking the time to notice the details of his own work. It was nowhere near perfect. Hardly satisfactory, even. His handiwork was messy, uneven. But it would keep the wound from reopening at least until they got back to Camp. 

“Not bad for a trainee,” Will said finally, dropping his hand and turning to face Nico. “Thank you. Really. You know I never would have asked you to do this if-”

“Don’t apologize,” Nico cut him off. “I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. I...” 

Nico frowned, his brain finally catching up to the scene in front of him. Without the distractions of the blood and sharp objects, the sight of Will Solace shirtless suddenly brought a rush of warmth to his cheeks. He unconsciously leaned back, all too aware of how close they were sitting, but that undeniable tense energy still radiated between them. Speaking of heartbeats…

“How were you so calm through all of this?” Nico asked. 

“Because I had to be. I always do,” Will shrugged without thinking, then winced from the pain. “All in a day’s work, you know? Someone’s got to step up when there’s an emergency.”

“That someone shouldn’t always have to be you.”

“No. You’re right. It shouldn’t,” Will said softly, his gentle eyes locking with Nico’s. 

It wasn’t meant to be a cruel comment, but Nico felt the weight of the words press down on him. He didn’t have the time to come up with a retort before Will spoke again: “Maybe we both have a thing or two to learn about helping others. Or helping ourselves.” 

Will reached out and took Nico’s hand. 

“You’re still shaking,” Will said. “You don’t have to be nervous, you did a good job.”

Nico felt his face grow hot. He stared down at their intertwined hands, then back up into Will’s eyes. 

“That’s not why I’m nervous,” he said. 

[skellebonez]

18, with MK and DBK being stuck together

This is one of the more interesting prompts I have recieved, I kind of want to explore this idea more throughly in the future. I also like that I am getting GenFic prompts now! I love shipping but these are giving me great ideas. (I also realized AFTER I wrote this that I had a similar plot, but in reverse, in a fill between MK and Red Son so I added in some references to that. Consider this a sequel!)

Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.

This was definitely not how MK expected his day to go... not in the slightest. The situation was disturbingly similar to another one he had found himself in not that long ago. There was a deep tension in the air around them, layering on top of the fear and confusion that MK felt rolling around in the back of his mind as he sat across from the Demon Bull King in the depths of a collapsed underground mining system.

"So..." MK started, tensing more when DBK snorted out a breath of of hot air in his direction. "Looks like we're going to be stuck here for... a while." He waited before continung, watching DBK's face for any signs of glowing eyes or anger.

There was definitely some anger in his expression. But whether that anger was directed at him or the fact they were trapped MK couldn't really tell. Aside from the first time he had fought DBK where he was smug and victorious and last time after... the White Bone Spirit... he had never seen him not looking angry as a default. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how easy it would be for the large demon to actually kill him in this cramped space just by trying to escape on his own and letting MK deal with the falling debris. He wondered why DBK hadn't even tried.

He really really wished that his dominant arm wasn't broken and he could do more than just hold the staff in front of himself awkwardly in an attempt at self defense. At least his jacket had been ripped off already so it couldn't hurt his arm whenever he moved. Poor thing needed to be replaced with one of his many backups, the whole back of it was shredded.

Silence reigned for a while longer, the two sitting awkardly. Starring. MK moved first, trying to reposition himself to keep one of his legs from falling asleep and a shock of pain surged through his broken arm. Try as he might he could not hold back the yell of pain and he flinched back into the wall behind him, holding his staff more firmly in front of him with a glare aimed at DBK in the hopes it would dissuade him from taking advantage of his show of weakness.

But DBK did... nothing. Nothing but stare. He stared at MK with an odd expression on his face, like he was torn between two choices, and eventually he sighed deeply and stood.

"Let me see your arm, Little Thief," he said, his voice as awkward as the moments before felt.

"UH... why?" MK asked, completely uncertain of what to do.

"Your arm is broken, is it not?" DBK continued, gaze narrowing as he looked at the awkward position the arm laid in. He looked down at the ground, picking up a thin piece of wood and snapping it in two with no effort. "I recalled how you... assisted my son when you both were in a similar situation. Allow me to return the favor."

... Ok, MK was pretty sure he was actually dead at this point. Or dying. There was no way this was happening. He was having a dying hallucination, that was the only explination.

"Uh... sure," he shrugged with his good shoulder. "Why the hell not." He moved himself carefully, giving DBK access to his broken arm without letting go of the staff with his good one. "But I'm watching you."

"Fair," DBK conceded as he kneeled down to take a closer look to assess the damage.

He was far more careful than expected as well. His arm still hurt while DBK moved it, and it was awkward as hell for the huge demon to carefully tie the shreds of his jacket around the wood in a makeshift splint and then use the rest of it to make a kind of sling for his arm to rest in. But he wasn't actively trying to hurt the young man.

"You-" MK started as DBK walked back to where he sat, gulping in nervousness before continuing when the demon did not reply. "You, uh... after the... you know." He gestured awkwardly. "Cave in thing. You could have probably gotten out. Left me here. Why didn't you?"

For a moment the Demon Bull King said nothing, merely looked off into nothing as he seemed to consider the question. "There are certain things that should be paid back in full."

He didn't say anything after that, only growled warningly at MK's later questions.

(Eventually they were rescued, once again by Iron Fan. They left much in the same way as last time, with a strange nod and a whisper of the wind. As MK made his own way out he wondered if his arm would heal in time for the Lunar New Year celebrations....)

[scaryscarecrows]

Breathe In, Breathe Out (Let the Human In)

AN: Happy deathday, Jason! Title from Of Monsters and Men's 'Human'. Arkham Asylum alternate ending thingy.

TW for attempted suicide.

* * *

It’s the Joker’s fault.

Well, okay, fine, it’s ninety percent the Joker’s fault and ten percent Cobblepot being a nosey Nellie, but because she hates him and he isn’t her boss, Dove is going to lay all the blame on the clown.

And he’s the one who made this spectacle, so there.

Whoever’s fault it is, Cobblepot demanded they trek to Arkham. He says that it’s because he’s a donor and has rights to see what’s going on. Dove knows for a fact he hasn’t donated a damn cent since his stint as the mayor way back when, but he’s playing at being Legal for now and, well, she’s curious too. Batman is there. Arkham’s got a pretty full house tonight. And the news is saying something about monsters.

The news is not wrong. Batman is here, on the roof, with--

Oh my God.

That’s. That’s Joker, but...but he’s done something to himself. Something awful. He’s monstrous, with...with spines (no, not spines, his spine, his bones) jutting up out of his torn back, and he’s. He’s huge, big enough to pick up Batman. And Dove’s been up close to Batman before, been picked up by the guy, even. He’s not small.

“What’s going on?” Cobblepot demands. He’s not alone. She recognizes some of the men gathered here, at the police barricade. Most of them are as corrupt as they come. “Jim! Jim, come here, I demand--”

“You don’t get to demand anything--”

Above them, Joker laughs. Dove has faith that Batman will stop him. He always does.

(He has to.)

She ducks, though, when the clown turns to peer down at them, and turns her head away. And that’s the only reason she sees the thin, trembling shadow stumbling out from one of the buildings.

Between the floodlights and the chopper, the lawn’s lit right up. The orange jumpsuit sticks out like a sore thumb and her first thought is ZSASZ.

“Harvey!” Harvey Bullock turns, toothpick already half-shredded in his teeth. “There’s a--”

“Shit--”

The shadow goes down and no, that’s not Zsasz. There’s hair. Harvey approaches so Jim can deal with this shitshow, turns the man(?) onto his back. There’s silence, followed by a horrified, “What the fuck?”

“What now?”

“What is going on--”

“Harvey?”

An explosion draws Jim back to his radio, shouting at the chopper to GET BACK GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW. Dove risks inching towards Harvey and the orange shadow.

“Harvey?”

“Jesus Christ…” He’s all but sitting on his hands. “Jesus Christ, kid, what happened to you?”

Kid? That’s a kid?

“Who is that?”

He looks up, hat falling off.

“I think it’s Robin.”

No, Robin would be...up…

Oh.

Oh, my God.

She does go closer at that, and it is Robin. Not the current one, the new one, but the one before. The one Joker...Joker’d got hold of him...God, over a year ago, now, sent a tape out a few months back.

He’d been dead. Finally, Dove remembers thinking guiltily, out of his misery.

But apparently not. He’s older than she remembers (of course he is), but...but there’s a brand on his face, a goddamn ‘J’ burned into his skin like he’s a piece of meat rather than a boy, and he’d had that…

“Robin?” she whispers. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

He’s breathing, harsh, ragged gasps that stutter and catch (broken ribs or scared or...?), and he flinches when Joker starts laughing again.

“What did that bastard do to you, kid?” Harvey breathes, finally inching out a hand to brush against the orange jumpsuit. The thing’s hanging off the kid’s frame and it’s stained and torn. “Jesus…”

Robin’s eyes flicker open, and a second later he jolts upright for all of four seconds before collapsing back to the grass.

“No no no--”

“Robin. Robin! Look at me, sweetheart, c’mon, you’re okay, you’re okay, just--”

He freezes, eyes going from the medical building to Harvey to her. Then he swallows, hard, and whispers, “This is real?”

Harvey shucks off his coat and lays it over him as gently as possible.

“Here you go, kid. Just. Just stay real still, huh? Everything’s fine. You’re fine.”

“You promise--you promise you’re not--”

“Shh.” Dove reaches over, intending to just...ruffle his hair, or something, and he flinches back, eyes squeezed shut like he thinks she’s going to hurt him.

“No no please m’sorry m’sorry--”

“Don’t be sorry, honey.” Jesus… “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay, it’s over. We’re not gonna hurt ya, honey, I promise.”

He just lies there, shuddering under Harvey’s coat, and finally opens his eyes to look up at the sky.

“S’over?” he breathes. “I...you promise…” He cuts himself off with a choked sob and spits out, “I can’t go back.”

Jim’s suddenly there, confused and demanding to know, “What’s going on? Who the hell--”

Robin jerks at the suddenness of it all and the next thing Dove knows, he’s jolted up and all but crawled into her lap.

“What the hell--”

“Please--”

“Dammit, Jim, now look what you did--”

“Sh-sh-sh, kiddo, s’just Jim. S’just Jim.” Robin the Second is not pocket-sized. Once upon a time, almost. Enough. But pocket-sized or not, he’s emaciated and feverish and terrified. “S’just Jim.”

“It’s Robin,” Harvey’s explaining, voice cracking and shocked. “Jesus, Jim, it’s fuckin’ Robin, Joker didn’t--he’s still alive--”

Robin cringes at another explosion, scrunching down and burying his head against her neck with a whimper. Dove risks touching the back of his head, and when he doesn’t panic, runs her fingers through his hair. It’s matted and stiff and there’s a lump at the base of his skull.

“Shh, shh,” she murmurs. “It’s okay, you’re okay...we gotcha, we gotcha…”

“Mm--”

“Shh, Robin--”

“Jason,” he whispers, so quiet that she nearly misses it. “S’Jason--h-he would’a come for Robin an’ he left me with him--”

That is a can of worms she’s not getting into.

“Okay. Okay, Jason.”

He’s quiet after that, breathing slow and careful and clearly trying to calm himself down. And he’s almost there, or at least he’s not crying anymore, when Batman is suddenly there.

“Jim--”

Jason flinches and tries to curl into a ball, whispering, “Nonono I can’t do this again I can’t do this again…”

Batman stills and sinks into a crouch. Jason’s trembling in Dove’s arms and when Batman half-reaches towards him he all but knocks her over trying to get away.

“Shh, baby, shh, s’just Batman--”

“Get away!” He pulls free and crab-crawls backwards before collapsing on the grass. “Get away from me--please--”

She’s seen Batman be still before, but not like this. He’s, well, he’s shocked. Jason’s shuddering with dry sobs, and when Batman does finally move again, he squirms back behind Dove.

“Sweetheart, no one’s gonna hurt you--”

“You left me!” He jabs an accusing finger at the Bat. “You left me with him, you replaced me, you left me to die!” He struggles to his knees, wheezing. “Joke’s on you, Batman, I didn’t! So tell them! Tell them what happened, just...just…” He wobbles and winds up curled on his side, shaking. “Where the hell were you?”

Batman just looks at him like he can’t believe he’s here and breathes, “I thought you were dead.”

To be fair, that was...everyone did. Joker had sent that tape around, laughing all the while, and…

“Not the whole time,” Jason spits. “You replaced me in what, a week? If? Come on, Batman, quit hiding behind your pathetic excuses! World’s greatest detective, my ass, if you were, you would. Have. Looked.”

“Robin--”

“I’m not Robin anymore! Robin’s dead!” He pauses, and a sick smile creeps over his face. “Or. I guess not, huh? You got a nice, shiny new one! Where’d you find this one, the Wal-Mart parking lot? Amazon dot fucking com? Inquiring minds wanna know!”

Batman’s still and silent. Twenty feet away, the Joker’s being loaded onto a gurney. He’s normal-sized again, looks like shit (good), and giggling; until he thrashes his head.

And sees what’s going on.

Joker doesn’t laugh all the time. That’s a common misconception. But he laughs enough that when he stops, when that smile drops, that most people would rather be locked in a room with Scarecrow than be anywhere near him.

And he’s not laughing now.

“How did you…”

Jason freezes, smile vanishing. He manages, somehow, to go even paler before curling into a small ball, arms over his head.

“Get that animal out of here,” Batman snarls, and Dove’s never heard him sound like that. She’s not scared of the Bat...but tonight, she could be.

“How did you get out, you sorry little brat?!” The clown jerks against the restraints and they rattle. They’re not gonna give, surely they’re not gonna give, he’s small again--

Batman’s suddenly right up against him, hand at his throat.

“That’s enough.”

Joker looks from Jason to Batman and back again before plastering that godawful grin back on his face.

“You don’t think he wants you back, do you?” His voice is strangled. “Not after everything you’ve done--oog!”

Mercifully-finally-Batman slams his head back hard enough to either knock him out or shut him up. Dove doesn’t care which. He steps back, turns around, and finds Harvey Bullock in his space.

Harvey...Harvey talks a big game. But he’s a big old softie, really, and he had a fondness for Robin the Second*. And a long-standing distrust of Batman. With everything that happened, that distrust had only grown.

“I think you owe the kid some answers,” he says, voice trembling with barely-suppressed rage. “Where were you, exactly? How did you miss this?”

“Get out of my way, Bullock.”

“How long was he missing before you mentioned it? Or kidnapped the current one, huh? If you’d kept that pointy nose of yours out of our cases for once--”

“Bullock--”

“--you might’ve found him!”

Batman is, surprise, surprise, silent. Dove knows this kind of silence; men get like this before they. Before they hurt people.

“Bullock,” he says at last, voice very, very, low, “step aside before I force you aside.”

He’s bloody, holding one arm funny, and breathing far too evenly. Even Jim’s wary now, one hand inching towards his gun. Harvey huffs.

“Screw you,” he says, but he’s not dumb enough to fight Batman, and he steps aside. Batman’s still pissed, still ready for what Dove knows will be a one-sided fight, but he manages a stiff nod before turning that laser-focus back to Jason.

Jason’s still huddled in a ball. The fight’s gone out of him, the insane smile and that...that shine in his eyes. He’s not looking at Batman though, or at Joker. He’s just curled over his knees, arms wound around his ribs and head ducked down. Defensive, ready for a beating.

“Hey-hey, baby,” she murmurs, “no one’s gonna hurt you. Come on now, you’re okay.”

Jason uncurls a little, eyes wide, and before anyone can react he’s lunged at Jim and gotten the pistol out of his holster and aimed it at Batman.

“M’not doing this again,” he says, carefully flat. “M’not falling for it.”

“Robin--”

“Kid--”

“M’not falling for this again!” His eyes are wide and tears are running down his cheeks, but his hands are steady. Too steady. “I remember! I learned my lesson! M’not gonna let you get close enough to beat the crap outta me again!”

“Robin,” Batman breathes, and he’s not scary anymore. He’s just a man. “Robin, I never--”

“Stay back!”

Everybody knows Batman can disarm people in the blink of an eye. Dove’s not so sure he can get that gun from Jason before he pulls the trigger.

Jesus Christ, what did Joker do to him…

“All right,” Batman says softly. “All right. I’ll stay right here, and you can put the gun down--”

“No!” The word echoes off the buildings, a frantic, NONONONONONONONONO! “You think I’m stupid?” He laughs. It’s a flat, angry laugh that reminds Dove uncomfortably of the Joker. “You always did, huh?”

“I never--”

“Shut up!” Now he’s starting to shake a little and she sees Harvey shift, just a bit. Jason doesn’t appear to notice. “Just shut up, stop talking to me!”

“Hey. Kid.” What the fuck, Harvey? “C’mon, look at me.” Harvey steps closer. “C’mon. He’s not gonna get ya, just look at me.”

Dove doesn’t think he will, but she’s proven wrong. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t lower the gun, but he looks at Harvey.

“Good. Good, kid. Now just calm down, okay? No one’s gonna hurt ya, this isn’t…” He takes another step. “This isn’t like that.”

“No, no…”

“Hey. You’re not gonna break my heart an’ tell me I laid a finger on ya, are ya?” Harvey manages, God knows how, to give Jason a real smile. “And you know Dove’s not gonna hurt ya, right? You’re out, kid. You’re okay. So Bats is a bit of a dope--” Batman radiates mild offense. “--but he’s been lookin’ all over the place for you. So come on. Put the gun down.”

People underestimate Harvey sometimes. He’s a disaster, smokes too much and doesn’t clean and yeah, his landlord did try to murder him that one time and Dove could totally see where he was coming from, but...he’s a good guy. Mostly. He’s the kinda cop that she would’ve talked to as a little girl, y’know? He does his best for this hellhole of a city.

Jason’s arms shake and the guns do start lowering. Dove’s just thinking maybe he’ll be okay when he looks back at Batman and whispers, “I can’t.”

“Can’t what, Robin?” Batman’s voice is very, very soft. “Talk to me, son.”

Jason hiccups and spits out, “I killed people! Beat ‘em to death because they looked like you, they looked like you, they were gonna kill me--”

Jesus. Jesus Christ--

Jason’s still blubbering, voice thick and angry and horrified.

“--you’re not gonna want me anymore and I can’t go back to him I can’t I can’t--”

“You’re not going back to him,” Batman insists. “You’re never going back to him, we’re going--”

“No.” Jason swallows and when he speaks again, his voice is steady enough. “No. S’okay, B. There’s no fixin’ me, I know. S’okay.”

He raises the gun again, presses it to his head.

“M’sorry.”

Dove doesn’t see Batman move. One minute he’s over there, and the next minute, Jason’s disappeared under a shadow and the gun’s out of his hand. Jim grabs it and backs away.

Batman stands up, keeping Jason’s arms behind his back. Jason’s slumped forward, breathing hard.

“Listen to me,” he says, the softness of his tone a stark contrast to the firm restraint, “there is nothing you could do that would make me leave you with that monster. I promise.”

“But I--”

“Agent A’s missed you,” he continues. “And Nightwing, and. And Batgirl. I’m sorry, Robin, for failing you. But I never left you, and I certainly never replaced you. We can fix this, at home.” He sighs. “Come home, son.”

Jason bursts into tears, legs buckling under him, and Batman turns him around to hug him.

“Dad--”

“I’ve got you,” Batman murmurs. “I’ve got you. We’re going home right now.”

Dove wonders how-they all saw the destroyed car, Cobblepot had laughed about it-when there’s a noise that can only be described as Hell dropping out of the sky and a…

Oh. Right. Batman not only has a car, he also has a goddamn plane. Because that’s just something that he needs.

The plane lands on the lawn. Batman picks Jason up-looks a little awkward, with the growth spurt the kid’s managed-and turns around.

Nobody tries to stop him. Nobody even says anything until the plane’s in the air, and then Harvey sighs, flicks his toothpick away, and turns to Dove.

“Fuck it,” he says roughly. “You got a cigarette?”

She should say no. He’s been tryin’ to quit, doin’ real good, but…

She needs a smoke too, after that.

“Here.”

THE END

*Canon! (It’s mutual. It’s precious.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 32

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Broken from the time-loop, you and Bucky discuss next steps.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Mild anxiety attacks and dissociation 

AO3

“You…”

If you were sweating like a marathon runner, then Bucky was panting like a winded horse that had been galloping too long for too fast.

“What… did you see?” He was perched on the edge of the bed, tail thumping against the covers in agitation.

You sat further upright, trying to catch your breath. You confirmed that, yes, you were back in your own room, in your own body. It was nighttime, cold, and the house was quiet because everyone else had gone to bed. The solid softness under your hands grounded you, confirmed that this was real and you were back where you were supposed to be.

You could barely process his question.

“I… I don’t know—“

Bucky gripped you by the shoulders and leaned over you, expression a mixture of fear and panic.

“What did you see? Tell me!”

“Everything!”

You winced and lowered your voice, not wanting to wake anyone, trembling violently in his hands.

“I saw everything.”

Bucky deflated, releasing you with horrific guilt written all over his face as he backed away from the bed.

“And…” You looked up at him, dazed, gripping the bedspread like a lifeline. “And I… didn’t just see. I was… with you…”

“No…”

“…in that place. The demon realm—“

“No, no, no, no.” Bucky stumbled back, his tail whipping around as he gripped the sides of his head. “That wasn’t you. That wasn’t you. It can’t be.”

“Bucky, please, look at me,” you quietly begged. But he wouldn’t. He shook his head, paced your room like a caged animal, but he wouldn’t look at you.

“It’s my fault. My fault. This wasn’t supposed to happen, something went wrong. Oh, God, what did I do? What did I do to you?”

He was spiraling and there was nothing you could do to stop it. As soon as you stood from the bed, Bucky flinched away, staring at you in naked terror.

“I can’t…”

He choked out the words, turned to your windowsill, and flung it open. The same windowsill he’d fled from twenty years ago. Wings ripped from his shoulder blades, shredding the back of his shirt, and he leapt through, disappearing into the darkness with a rush of air washing over you.

You stared at the open window for a long time. Long enough that the room had gotten cold enough to see your breath. And still you stood there, frozen, your mind a blank space as your body felt strange and far away.

Something warm and alive rubbed against your leg, a concerned meow bringing you back to the present. You shook off your daze and quickly shut the window, drawing the curtains back over the dark glass.

Picking up Monster, you returned to the bed and crawled under the covers, holding him tight as you shivered violently.

You waited for Bucky to return, watching the digital read-out of the old clock as it crept past midnight. The exhaustion of parsing through all the memories, of feeling as if you’d lived several lives over the span of just a few minutes, and then for Bucky to just take off… You were torn between fatigue and depression that felt more akin to grief.

As the clock ticked past two in the morning, you wondered if Bucky would be coming back. Maybe this was the thing that broke him. You couldn’t even blame him.

Burying your face in Monster’s fur, which may have grown damp against your cheeks, you let the exhaustion overtake you, pulling you into merciful darkness.

Except it wasn’t merciful. Confusing images swirled past you. Freezing bunkers, a red, dead world, a pretty rooftop garden with a kind, bald woman. She reached out to you, and you tried to grab her hand but you slipped backwards, out of reach.

Down, down you fell, through the freezing air, until you crashed into the snow, left broken and bleeding red against the white.

You awoke with a start, heart leaping in your throat. The room was cold again, and your back ached from the aftereffects of the horrifically realistic dream.

The noise that woke you repeated itself: Monster was hissing into the dark.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” a low voice responded. “Don’t have to tell me. Move over.”

Monster spit his annoyance, but he wiggled out of your arms and jumped off the bed, vanishing out of sight in that way he had of doing.

“Bucky?” Your whisper had barely any strength to it.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I’m… I’m here. Can I… come to bed with you?”

You pulled back the covers without hesitation, shifting back to give him room. The room was dark but you could still see him slip under the blankets as the mattress jostled from the additional weight.

Your fingers brushed against his arm and you almost drew back.

“You’re freezing.”

Bucky released a snort, settling down into the bed as he rested his head on the pillow next to yours.

“I’ll live. My own damn fault, anyway. I shouldn’t have left.” He found your hands under the covers and squeezed them gently. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Despite how cold he was all over, you pressed right up to him, tucking your head under his chin as you hugged his arms against your chest, seeking comfort while simultaneously trying to warm him up. That was something you couldn’t forget from the memories. Bucky hated the cold.

“I forgive you.” You rested your chin on your favorite spot, his collarbone. “So long as you forgive me for what happened tonight. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

“What? Why would you even say that? Of course it was my fault!”

Your shoulders hunched inward. How much could you tell him? You didn’t want Bucky to take the blame, but you weren’t sure if what the Ancient One had told you had been just for you and Strange.

Plus, Bucky had a complicated relationship with the sorcerers, and he already got weirded out by magic… Perhaps it would be better to wait to tell him the full truth when you actually knew what that was.

“Well…” You scooted a little closer. Even now you were craving contact, wanting to touch him even if it was selfish. After not having a body for so long, it was nearly a physical need. “Weird stuff keeps happening to me, right? The portal. The demons coming after me. Having a hobgoblin for a pet. That’s… that’s probably got something to do with me, at the very least.”

Bucky was quiet for a long moment. You waited, barely breathing, having no idea which way he would go. Continue to blame himself for everything, or allow someone else to shoulder the burden for once?

“I think we should talk to Strange,” he finally said.

You nearly melted with relief. This was good. Maybe you could talk to Strange and not involve Bucky at all with the weird time-loop, memory, magic stuff. At least Bucky could stop blaming himself for things he wasn’t responsible for.

Maybe Strange had been wrong about you being the magic equivalent of a dead battery. As much as you tried not to think about it, you knew something wasn’t normal if you were attracting demons left and right. What happened tonight just confirmed that something more was going on.

You just wished the Ancient One had been more clear about what she meant by training, not to mention that ominous bit of advice at the end. You were supposed to make a choice that would affect both of your lives? What the fuck? You were really beginning to understand Bucky’s frustration the wizards.

Hopefully, you could go to Strange for help without him finding out about the bond. It was a complicated balancing act you would somehow have to manage.

“I agree,” you said. “Your wizards are equipped to deal with this stuff, aren’t they?”

Bucky chuckled. He’d only been gone a few hours and you’d already missed that sound.

“They’re not my wizards, but yes.”

He made a low, comforting sound, almost like a purr, as he pulled you against his chest and petted your hair. Your eyelids drifted shut of their own accord, and you would have purred yourself if you could.

“Either way, I won’t run away again. I promise.”

Listening to his heartbeat, slow and steady against your ear pressed to his chest, you prayed it was a promise Bucky could keep. After the confusing but undeniable lifetime you’d spent together, you couldn’t imagine a life without him. You wanted to talk to him about everything you’d experienced in that place, but you were too tired, and Bucky’s breathing had already slowed to a steady rhythm. Tonight had taken a lot out of him, out of you both. The least you could do was get some rest.

But rest didn’t find you so easily. No matter how much you tried to push it out, the image of the dried-up corpse plagued your thoughts, and you eventually drifted into a restless sleep, dreaming it had your face. Long dead with a pentagram stretched across your shoulder.

Next Chapter

[bokutosvoid]

fragment by fragment

Pairing; bokuto x (gn) reader

Warnings; major character death! Sickness, mentions of being insecure.

Genre; angst angst angst

(a/n); this may or may not have made me tear up a little when I read it back. But this was so fun to write!!

Word count; 1.4K

Most people secure themselves with a circle of safety, locking out the unexpected. The unexpected can pull you out and tear you apart, but it can also place a new heart in your chest that used to be withering.

The unexpected was something you weren’t ready to face just yet. But the unexpected is funny like that, it's neither here nor there, working with no schedule. It's something life throws at you whether you're ready for it or not.

Looking back, there was nothing you would change, nothing you would take back that could possibly challenge the odds of meeting him, the boy who changed your life who was named Bokuto Koutarou.

You had met him at his last highschool game he played, instantly able to pick up on his electric personality as you saw him score point after point, cheering on his teammates in a way that brightened the entire gymnasium with ease. It felt instantaneous, like a sudden, powerful force that brought your eyes together, stealing glances at each other from across the court every few minutes.

He asked you out to ice cream, out of breath and panting thickly as he ran to catch up to you from across the parking lot. He was blushing. You too felt a warmth creep it’s way into your cheeks as he gave you a charming smile that reeled you in.

“Yes.” You nodded, smiling widely at bokuto.

You bonded over cones of ice cream and late night car drives and innocent friendship, until that slowly turned into more, until those departing hugs turned into kisses upon blushed cheeks, and those into tender kisses you had stolen from each other under the security of the night sky.

The day you realised you loved him was on a rooftop near his home, basking in the sunset when you looked at him. He looks like an angel. That was the only thought running through your mind as you looked at his features. His soft skin that soaked up the orange dusk, his hair that dropped to hang over his golden eyes. And his mouth, you liked the way his mouth soaked in the sunlight, allowing him to smile like the sun.

Bokuto quickly became the person you felt completed you, he filled that last puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing. The golden eyed boy was now a part of you, intertwined into your soul in delicate streaks of the words ’I love you’. He kissed better the broken parts of you, even the ones you despised. He cheered for the things about you one clapped for, and he so lovingly pieced you back together when you were left in shreds on the living room floor, broken down by nothing more than your own words.

So the day you sat with him in the doctor's office will remain stuck in your mind forever. The way his smile fractured and his eyes lost that gleam you always saw will stay shaved into the side of your head. The way you had to sit there as his world crashed down, unable to help or hurt with him will haunt you.

On the bad days, the hospital room that had now become more familiar than your own home shrunk in on him, forcing the oxygen out of his lungs to leave him scattered on the hospital room floor, where you found yourself piecing him back together softly. He still wore that same smile that made you fall a few years back, and you can’t deny that each time you saw him, you fell more and more in love with him and his strength. His unbelievable, undying strength.

Watching your love wither away hurts. It hits suddenly one day when you least expect it. It’s all serrated and painful, like an explosion in a glass box. You try to hide the splitting pain searing through you, smiling to keep you from breaking down, from giving you away. It hits you all at once, weighing down on your shoulders as you cry silently when they are asleep, safe by your side in the warm cradling arms of insomnia.

You spent your days with bokuto, letting time pass you by as you held each other, played games or simply watched each other sleep.

“I love you.” He whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead. His voice was quiet and broken. But still there. He was still there.

“I love you too.” You whispered back, touching your forehead to his. “Please don’t go, not yet.” You brought your hands to his face, cupping koutarou’s warm cheeks with your hands.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” he spoke quickly, pulling you closer. “We have time.”

“But not nearly enough.” You let a tear slip down your cheek, dripping onto his hospital gown.

“We have now, and if that’s all the world has to give us, I’ll take it if It means I can be with you for a little longer.” He smiled, obviously trying to hide his heartbreak, raking his slender fingers through your hair.

Your skin itched to tell koutarou you loved him, tell him how you had loved him all these years, all this time, and you will love him in each and every single life you can find him in. Until the end of time, until the world perishes and everything is gone, you will continue to love him.

The look he gave you made you feel like he already knew, like he could read your mind. His face was soft and happy like it always had been.

“I love you, y/n. So much” he spoke once more, a stray tear slipping through his facade of being strong for you. You smiled, pushing your lips onto his, soaking in every ounce of him through your lips.

“I love you, koutarou.” Came your quiet response.

The day you received the call that bokuto had passed was the day you felt your world fall around you, breaking down everything that had once been whole.

Everything around you felt silent, like all sound had been turned off and the only noise your ears searched for was his. His breathing, his voice, his laugh. His anything. But you came up short every single time. The silence broke you down. Piece by piece. Fragment by fragment.

This was the moment it hit you the hardest. The moment you realised he wasn’t there to patch you up, he wasn’t there to kiss better the heartbreak him leaving had torn for you. He just wasn’t there.

You didn’t know when it happened, maybe it was the dreams of him you had, maybe the home videos you had made of him, maybe the clothes he left or maybe it was the fact that he wouldn’t want you to do this, bokuto wouldn’t want you to lie on cold sheets and feel sad, weighed down by the missing part of you. He’d want you to live. Whatever it was, you took yourself to the highest building you could find and sat there.

You breathed in the air and felt bokuto around you, his memory filling your lungs with each breath you took, the pain still stayed, stinging like a fresh cut.

Bokuto was somewhere in the sky and the somewhere you were was here. And you hoped, longed for this feeling to somehow reach him, ripple into his soul so he could know that you remember. You remember everything. His name was bokuto koutarou, and he smiled like the sun, laughed like the stars and made you feel like the sky. You, and the boy you had fallen in love with on the ledge of a high rise rooftop, had lived.

You had given each other reasons to live, you were each other’s beautiful, cherished unexpected that ended much too soon. The sky knew this because in the time he was gone, the sky felt solemn as if it was grieving the loss of him itself. You were left with two halves of a broken heart and silence. Though, this silence wasn’t drumming into your ears, it was an all-consuming silence, whole and alive, drawn into the notion that you had done enough. You gave him happiness and a place to feel safe and loved.

You and bokuto were the type of unexpected that gets brought together again, under a different sky or in a different life, you’ll find each other again and again until you finally stay.

A small smile glazed your lips at this thought as the sun lingered, dipping along the horizon. The sky was painted in pink and orange, a view you knew bokuto would have liked to see.

“I love you,” you whispered into the world, letting the sun's warmth hold you gently in place of him.