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rheawritessometimes · 4 years ago

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In Bloom

{ Xiao x GN!Gardener!Reader }

{ Summary } Looking for flowers is more dangerous than it seems.

{ Warnings } Violence, Injury, Mention of Death, Not Even Proofread.

{ Notes } Reader runs on dumb luck and also is kind of like an ecologist or something. Reader is a bit of an airhead. This is probably the most serious fic I've written, with no jokes or additions stricken out. But yeah I just typed this out and didn't even read it over, so if it's bad... Just know this is just a little something while I work on longer garbage. Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,112

Appealing to the Vigilant Yaksha was an easy, one could even say effortless, thing for you. You hadn't taken the almond tofu route as others before you had, instead, you left him some Qingxin flowers. These flowers did not come from the peaks of Huaguong Stone Forest nor the Mingyun Village, rather they were among the finest specimens you had grown in your garden. The translucent white petals were soft like velvet and entirely free from blemish.

Your small gift to the adeptus wasn't exactly intentional. In truth, you had left the flowers on the balcony of Wangshu Inn entirely by accident and when you returned to retrieve them they were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a pale man with dark hair leaning over the balcony. When you halted your approach, he turned his head towards you, indicating he had heard your footsteps.

Striking golden eyes seemed to gaze straight through you, sending a chill down your spine. His expression was entirely neutral, you couldn't get even a hint as to what he was thinking. Nothing about his outward appearance screamed danger, but the ominous aura you sensed made you take a step back.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to disturb you," you squeaked out, sounding a lot less confident than you had intended. You take a step backward, but couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes from him.

"Don't apologize. You're welcome to stay," he replied after a few beats of silence, his tone sounding strained for a reason you couldn't discern.

"Um, okay, thank you," you replied politely, feeling it would be too awkward to leave now. It felt to you as though you were now trapped here for a little while out of social obligation. You stepped out towards the railing, deciding to at least enjoy the view if you had to stay.

The man didn't look at you, but you couldn't help but take in his appearance. He was objectively good-looking with bright amber eyes, dark hair with teal highlights, and his stoic expression. His clothing wasn't outlandish, but it's not the type you would commonly see on the streets of Liyue.

It took a while for the dark mask resting against the man's hip to catch your attention, but once it did you felt like a fool. It was not common knowledge, however, the fact an adeptus resided at the Wangshu Inn was not exactly a secret. One which you were privy to. The mask was the most obvious indication of his status as an adeptus. Not just any adeptus, not that any of them were anything to look down upon, but one of the Yakshas. The last of the five Yakshas.

"Alatus," the name escapes your lips as a whisper before you can think to stop it. Immediately your eyes widen, but before you could issue an apology the man just sighs softly. It doesn't sound particularly angered, but rather weary.

"Xiao. My name is Xiao," he says without turning to look at you. That's all he says before vanishing in a cloud of black mist and falling feathers of anemo energy. The mist and feathers are both quick to dissipate, leaving you standing with your mouth hanging open.

After that encounter, it had become a regular occurrence, at least once weekly, for you to pick one of the finest flowers from your garden and bring it to Wangshu Inn to leave on the balcony, or give directly to Xiao should he show himself. Most often you brought him a Qingxin, but occasionally you would substitute other flowers as not to end up plucking every Qingxin you had grown. You never picked the very best flower, either. Even for an adeptus you couldn't bring yourself to pick the best examples, rather letting them grow in peace for your prolonged enjoyment.

It wasn't until the third time you had come to the inn with a flower for Xiao that he was waiting for you on the balcony. Seeing the yaksha there made you pause, heart skipping a beat in surprise. He turned from his place looking out across the landscape to see you, certainly not as surprised to see you as you were him.

The way he looked expectantly at the flower in your hand has you realizing you had been standing there frozen. You moved, extending the flower out to him in offering. He took it delicately from your hand, looking it over for a moment.

"Thank you," he said softly, so quiet you almost didn't hear it at all. You could only nod stiffly in response. He scoffed at you before turning around again to lean against the balcony railing.

Just as it had the first time you met the yaksha, it felt wrong to just leave. So, you decided to survey the landscape of Liyue with him in silence. After the first few minutes, the atmosphere became rather comfortable between the two of you. Still, by the time he disappeared in a cloud of black mist and anemo feathers, neither of you had spoken a word.

This morning you were out early in the morning to explore the wilds of Liyue. You were no adventurer, though. Your purpose was to analyze the populations of certain flora and fauna. These were trips you made often to various parts of Liyue, wishing to preserve the life of endangered species, and always alone. Bringing people along to the locations of such rare organisms, be it plant or animal, was a dangerous thing. In many instances, rare means valuable and there are those who would do anything for some Mora.

Today you found yourself in Dihua Marsh to check up on the Glaze Lily population. Based on your counts, the number hadn't fluctuated greatly since your last visit, there were even a few new blooms. This brought you great relief, Glaze Lilies seemed to be somewhat of a symbol of Liyue and it would sadden you to see their wild population disappear, even if they remained in Qingce Village and at the Yujing Terrace. It wouldn't be the same.

Once you had sung a few songs to the flowers, not worried about anyone hearing you in this rather secluded area, you made your way back to one of the main roads. The long walks back to the harbor always ended up with you lost deep in thought, which wasn't always a good thing. Lost deep in your own mind, you didn't notice the slow advance of a small group of Treasure Hoarders until it was too late.

There was no time to run away as they surrounded you, it was unlikely you could have outrun them anyways. Fortunately, it didn't take very long for the Treasure Hoarders to discover you had absolutely nothing of value on you, and while they may be thieves it wasn't often a Treasure Hoarder was a murderer. Of course, they had roughed you up a bit before ultimately leaving you alone. There was a nasty scrape on your cheek and you were sure you would be bruised in the morning, but you weren't seriously injured.

By the next day, your muscles ached and bruises had appeared in various places on your body, but the scrapes had stopped bleeding and it was nothing that would stop you from bringing your usual offering to Xiao. You spent some time perusing your garden, looking for the perfect gift. You settled on a Silk Flower, there was some worry in your mind that Xiao would dislike it because they did grow right outside of the Wangshu Inn, but you hope the exceptional fragrance and color of this specimen would gain his appreciation.

Mindful not to fiddle with the flower as to preserve its pristine state, you worried the whole walk to the inn. Even if the adeptus wasn't present, if he rejected the offering you felt you would know. Maybe you would find the flower sitting where you left it on your next visit, or maybe Verr Goldet would tell you about the silk flower she found laying on the balcony. Your heart clenched at the thought and you couldn't help but wonder when you had started seeking the yaksha's approval.

You hadn't even realized you arrived at the inn until you were stepping off the elevator, lost in thought again. Shaking your head, you thought it would be good if you started paying more attention. Getting ambushed by again was the last thing you wanted, the next time it could be worse than petty thieves.

Pushing the negative thoughts from your mind, you climbed the stairs to the balcony you so often visited. Your muscles ached in quiet protest, but the pain was mild. Peeking over the stairs, you spotted Xiao.

For the first time, he was already facing you, leaning with his back against the railing. You wondered if he had spotted you on your way to the Inn, offering him a polite smile as a silent greeting. You extended the Silk Flower to him once you stepped out onto the balcony.

"What happened to you?" Xiao asked immediately, tone stern. He took the flower from you without even sparing a glance down at it. Did he not like Silk Flowers?

"Oh, um, I just bumped into some Treasure Hoarders yesterday. Nothing serious," you answered after finally processing his question, bringing your hand up to the scrape on your cheek without thinking. His frown deepened with your response and the adeptus crossed his arms over your chest.

"You were hurt," he pointed out bluntly. You felt small under his hard stare.

"Oh, it's nothing, um, serious," you assured him with a nervous laugh. He only furrowed his brows at your response.

"If ever again you find yourself in any danger, call my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be there when you call."

At his words, your cheeks heated up. Was this some sort of special treatment, or did he offer this to anyone? It felt wrong to receive such kindness from an adeptus if it was only for you.

"Promise," he pressed when you didn't answer.

"Okay, I will. If I'm ever in danger, I'll call you," you agreed meekly, feeling a great weight put upon you under his amber gaze. He huffed before disappearing in his usual manner, and it was impossible for you to tell if he was upset with you.

The next time you visited the inn, Xiao hadn't appeared. This wasn't unusual, but the worry that you had displeased him seeped into your bones. You tried to ignore this feeling, going out often to check on wildlife populations and spending extra time tending to your garden. Keeping busy was the best way to take your mind off your worries and stay productive.

A week after your meeting with the Vigilant Yaksha, you were back at Dihua Marsh checking on the Glaze Lilies. You were sitting in the middle of the lilies, singing softly to the patch of flowers when the sound of shouting reached your ears. Looking up, you noticed two hilichurls accompanied by a mitachurl with a stone shield who was charging your way.

There would be no time for you to get up and out of the way, so you closed your eyes and braced for the impact. You could only pray it wouldn't kill you, but even if it didn't you would probably be unable to escape death by the hilichurls soon after.

The impact never came, instead, a gust of wind blew past you and you wondered if the mitachurl had somehow run past you. When you opened your eyes, you saw Glaze Lily petals swirl into the air, dancing around the familiar figure of the Vigilant Yaksha. The mitachurl was already crumbling to dust, returning to the Abyss with it's hilichurl companions.

Xiao turned to face you, mask dematerializing from his face and reappearing at his hip. When he extended his hand down to help you get up, you furrowed your brows wondering why he had been here. Was it incredible luck, or had he perhaps been following you?

Taking his hand, you let him pull you up onto shaky legs. He didn't let go, looking a little worried you'd fall. You finally looked up to his face, scanning golden eyes.

"Why are you here?" you finally asked, throat feeling a bit scratchy.

"I told you I would be there when you called."

His words only confused you further until it dawned on you, the scratchy feeling in your throat was awfully similar to that which came with yelling. Had you truly called his name without even thinking, without even realizing?

"Thank you, Xiao."

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

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We Keep Going, That’s All

@whimpers-and-whumpers , this is for you. Hope your surgery goes well today!

CW: Aftermath of near-death, hospital whump, recovery whump, survivor's guilt, alcohol use, referenced drug use

Ryan shows up to the hospital with Coke bottles full of liquid that absolutely is not Coke - or not much of it, anyway - and Nate doesn't refuse the gift.

He twists off the plastic cap and takes a drink, wincing at the burn down his throat. "Jesus, Ryan, this is m-m-more Jack than Coke."

"Yeah, well. Figured we could use some relaxing." Ryan gives him a slight smile, and the bruising that's been along his jaw - the obvious press of fingers - is finally starting to fade. Off-white bandages ring his neck, hiding from direct view the deep, slowly healing gashes rubbed in by the iron collar he'd worn for a year.

There are other wounds, Nate knows, underneath the lightly-draped black t-shirt Ryan wears, under his effortlessly casual, perfectly-on-trend jeans.

There are deeper wounds still entirely underneath his skin, inside his head. Nate knows those even better. He doesn't begrudge Ryan the need to find some way to fuzz out the edges of what must be written in stark, bright blood in his memory.

Nate spent a year and a half doing the same, after all, before Bram came back for Danny again.

"How is he?" Ryan asks, settling into a hard wooden chair with plastic back and cushion in a dull pastel mauve. "Any different?”

"Then y-yesterday?" Nate exhales, slowly, rubbing at his unshaven jaw. The stubble prickles his fingertips, itches a little as it grows in. There's a razor in the private room's little bathroom, but he doesn't have the energy to use it. All of Nate's energy now is focused entirely around staying right here, being right here, for the rare moments that Danny is both awake and himself.

"Yesterday wasn't... great.”

"No, it wasn't." Nate sighs, leaning over in the chair he sits in, next to Ryan, reaching out with his good left hand to gently nudge a bit of wavy red away from over Danny's face.

The love of his life - the man he's killed for, twice, and would kill for again - lays on his stomach with his head turned to one side. The hospital blanket is pulled up nearly to his chin, hiding from view the fact that nearly all of Danny seems made of bandages these days, bandages and tubes and wires. He breathes slowly, a drugged deep sleep to let his body rest and try desperately to heal itself around the nearly-fatal place the knife went into his back.

He sleeps, more than he's awake. But Nate makes sure that when his eyes open, someone is here for him, every single time.

"Today has been a little b-better, I think," Nate says after a moment's though. He brushes a crumb from the corner of Danny's mouth. "He ate a l-little, this morning. Just Jell-O and a little bit of cereal, but...”

"But something." Ryan nods, takes another drink, looks out the window. Outside, the day is bright and sunny, with a cloudless blue sky. The courtyard below is full of visiting families and patients taking walks through the landscaped flowers, all of them in brilliant bloom. "Have you even left this room since we got here?”

"No." Nate doesn't bother to lie.

Ryan looks over at him, and smiles very slightly. "Remind me to bring you by some multivitamins do you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency.”

"I'm f-fine." Nate takes another drink, feels the warmth slowly spreading through his shoulders, relaxing the knots and tension that have been slowly building day by day. The 'bed' he has here is just a visitor's couch built into the wall, lumpy and hard, with exactly one flat pillow with a scratchy pillowcase. But he'd rather be here than anywhere else. He'll be here for every single second Danny needs him. "I eat oranges for breakfast every d-d-day. No sc-... sc-... scurvy for me.”

"Didn't we joke about scurvy once?" Ryan asks, slightly faintly, looking up at the ceiling. "After Danny came home the first time?”

"M-Maybe. Don't remember. Why do you c-care if I feel good, anyway?”

“My brother can’t fuss over you right now,” Ryan says with a casual shrug. “So someone has to. He’ll never let me live it down if anything happened to you while he’s here. I’ll get chewed out if you get so much as a headcold and we both know it.”

“I d-doubt-”

Danny shifts a little and both men go silent, watching him move in the bed - just an inch or so to the right, his eyes tightly closed, body tensing as even the slightest movement brings a wash of pain.

"It's okay," Nate whispers, and Danny's eyelids flicker, slowly open. The blue in them is hazy and clouded, but not empty. This time, at least, it's Danny who is looking at him, and not the other one, the one that Nate knows only as someone else. The one who runs Danny's body when Danny can't do it any longer.

"Hey," Danny says, in a hoarse whisper. He tries for a smile, and it's faded and wobbly, but it's there. Then he lifts his head a little, looking over to see Ryan. "Oh, you're both... here. How long was I asleep?”

"Four hours or s-s-so," Nate says, standing up - ignoring the twinge of pain in his bad knee - and moving the pillow under Danny's head to still support him even as he moves. A hint of freckled shoulder shows, with its swirling trace of scars from Bram's knife. There's a star carved into the back of his left shoulder that Nate did, at Bram's command, once.

Ryan's gaze be damned, Nate leans over to kiss it, and to kiss one by one the carved letters that are still there, faded, in the back of Danny's neck. A. D. N.

He tries not to feel the guilt that twists in him at the ownership Bram had meant to make obvious, there. His own first initial with Bram's initials, his own... his own culpability.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks, leaning over close to Danny.

Danny’s nose wrinkles. “You smell like a liquor store.”

“Yeah, well. When your big brother scares the shit out of you by getting himself stabbed almost to death because of you, maybe you need a little pick-me-up now and then.” Ryan manages a half-cocked smile, but it’s fragile, and they both know it.

With a hiss of pain, Danny moves his hand up the bed, offering it to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation, leaning over so his forehead rests gently against Danny’s.

“I’m okay,” Danny whispers.

“No, you’re not,” Ryan whispers back.

Nate moves to sit back in his chair, then stands again, restless. He doesn’t want to sit there but he doesn’t know where he does want to be... until he looks at Danny, thin and dwarfed even by a small hospital bed. He sets down the mostly-jack-and-a-little-coke and climbs into the bed without hesitating, laying down behind Danny on his side, letting his good hand rest just next to a swirl of Danny’s hair on the pillow.

Danny’s smile widens - not that Nate can see that, from his vantage point. Although Ryan can. “I’ll be okay,” He corrects himself, watching his brother. “They said there’s no sign of paralysis. I’ll walk, I’ll probably even run after a while.” He tries moving and hisses again. “A long while. It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”

“You always were way more optimistic when you were high as balls,” Ryan whispers, and he and Danny laugh, until the action makes Danny whimper at a new spike of pain. “What do we do now, Dan, huh?”

“Keep going,” Danny says, voice low, barely audible even to the two men on either side of him. “That’s all. We keep going.”

“I keep thinking I should’ve died back there, ten times over,” Ryan murmurs. “But every single time, you took the pain for me. I should’ve died-”

“Nah. You’re my little brother. I need you here.” Danny manages to keep the smile, then, and his blue eyes are warm. “If you feel so bad about it, sneak me some of that booze next time, yeah?”

"Dan, I am not going to help you mix IV drugs and alcohol-”

“Just leave it in a really easy-to-reach place and I’ll help myself.”

“Danny. No.”

“Danny yes.”

“Daniel Michaelson-”

“Ryan Niall Michaelson-”

Nate’s rumbling laughter interrupts them. It’s such a rare sound that both of them go immediately silent when they hear it, and Danny even tries to look over his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the ache to see the smile on Nate’s face. It’s slight, nearly private - a smile barely noticeable by anyone who isn’t looking for it.

But Danny is, and through the fog of the painkillers still coursing through his system, he sees it.

“What?” Ryan says. “What’re you laughing at?”

Nate lays a hand over the star he once carved into Danny’s skin, and moves to rest his nose, just lightly, against the warmth of Danny’s neck, breathing in the scent of him under the hospital-smell that surrounds them. “Nothing,” He says, and Danny shivers a little as his lips move against the curve of the D at the back of his neck. “I’m j-j-just... realizing I’m g-going to listen to you two do this for the r-rest of my life.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ryan’s voice is dry.

“No,” Nate says, eyes closed. He can almost feel them in the cabin, like this, just the two of them on days Bram was gone. Lying in the bed wasting the whole morning being warm, just them together. Warm and safe. It feels like being in Danny’s apartment during their year and a half of freedom, the way sometimes when Nate couldn’t get out of bed Danny would just stay with him, holding him, until the pain inside of Nate had lessened enough to let him stand.

Now it’s his turn to hold Danny.

@tiddiroki @whump-it @bleeding-demon-teeth @finder-of-rings @whumpywhumper @endless-whump @18-toe-beans @pumpkinthefangirl @goneuntil @swordkallya @astrobly @evermetnotforgotten @whumpiary @card-games-and-pain @raigash @whump-tr0pes @orchidscript @wildfaewhump @doveotions @eatyourdamnpears

#daniel michaelson's story #hospital whump #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #referenced stabbing #referenced drug use #alcohol use #caretakers #caretaker and whumpee #whump #aftermath whump #the bad arc #injured whumpee #survivor's guilt tw

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secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years ago

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i woke up with my period this morning and i always get morning sickness when i have it idk why but you just started dating spencer and he’s not awkward at all with you telling him you’re on your period and just taking care of you?? yea i could cry

My heart-

Periods.

Something so natural, something that happened to every woman as they grew up, something that people (of both genders) knew all about and something that every male with a mother and a sister would hear about so why did she find it to be a conversation topic that was so awkward to talk about?

Especially with Spencer.

The man probably knew every fact and figure and numerical statistic about that womanly time of the month. About periods and menstrual cramps and bleeding and the shedding of a woman’s uterine lining and YN had a hunch that he had willingly read up on the female anatomy and what happens to a woman, for a reason she was unsure about, but it made him all the more of a romantic.

And she loved that about him; there was a lot to love about him, as a whole, but with how he was willing to understand a woman to get to know her needs and her desires and how he wanted to get things right was enough... well, she didn’t need more than that to become infatuated with him. To realise there was more to him than he lead on.

“I thought that we could go for a walk to the park down the road from here. Get a coffee and a sandwich from your favourite coffee house, I’ve got a blanket in the basket, and we could take a slow walk there,” Spencer keeps his back to YN as he sets his belongings down on the cushion of her sofa, “it’s really hot out there so it’s a good day for it.”

When there’s no response, he’s confused.

She seemed bright and spritely when she answered the door, a happy smile on her lips that lead him to believe she was excited to spend their unexpected day-off together. When he turns on his feet, he sees her with her eyes pinched shut and a hand gripping at her side. Her nose scrunched up in pain, her cheeks no longer holding the rosy colour that usually resided there, looking shaky on her feet.

“YN?”

“I’m fine,” she exclaims a little too quick, much to her dismay as she was trying to keep her aches and pains under cover from Spencer, “I’m fine.”

There’s silence that swallows them and he doesn’t know why but he feels a little out of place as she tries to regain a more comfortable feel. His eyes stay locked on her to make sure she doesn’t pass out or fall over or feel more pain as she tries to ignore the cramps. Just from taking a look at her, and with his trained medical eye that he didn’t necessarily use for initial purpose, he could tell she wasn’t in any kind of danger with life-threatening problems or experiencing any illnesses that needed hospitalising or doctors visits.

“Period?”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes widen and he could have sworn he heard offence in her voice, her face hardening and her jaw tensing before her shoulders sunk and she could’t bear to be harsh when he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“We can have a picnic here. Right here in your living room. It’s rather hot out there anyway and we’d be more cooler in here,” he waves his arm in disregard and her heart just swells in size because he really was the sweetest and kindest and most caring man she’d ever been graced to meet, “I can run out and get us some sandwiches, grab some chocolate on the way back, get you a bunch of snacks or whatever you want to eat and we can stay in and watch a film or this new documentary that I saw on the nature channel yesterday. But it could be sad and I don’t want you to cry because you get sad at animal documentaries so maybe we could watch something funny? You can pick and-”

“Spence,” she cuts him off and he takes a gasp for a breath and it makes her smile because he’s so cute when he rambles on, “anything is fine as long as you stay with me.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone unless you want me to.” xx

#spencer reid chats #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fluff

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tatestripedsweater · 4 years ago

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Plot: Kit Walker never came back from the abduction of him and Alma, the extra-terrestrials kept him until they were done with the man. In the year 2000 Kit gets taken back to Earth in a time era he is unaware off, he’s just as confused as the person who finds him in the woods.

Kit Walker x GN!Reader

Wordcount: 1941

Tags: @kitwalker02 - Message me or comment below if you want to be added

Key:

Italics - Flashbacks

Bold Italics - Aliens speaking

1964

Kit lay on the bed smoking his cigarette as he looked up at the ceiling, only in his white briefs he couldn’t help but grin slightly at the events prior. It wasn’t the first time him and Alma had made love, in fact it was the second time today they had sex as this morning they fucked before he went to work. Moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, he put out his cigarette in the small tray on his bedside table, a clattering soon got Kit up onto his feet.

‘’Alma?’’ He maneuvered quickly to put his jeans on and shirt on before walking out into the living room, she was nowhere to be found. Quietly moving, Kit grabbed the gun he kept under a weak floorboard, he did this so no one would find it but he had to keep his wife protected somehow. The air was cold as Kit walked outside barefooted, not even bothering to put on shoes since he was more concerned on where Alma was, she couldn’t have gone far. ‘’Okay this isn’t funny darlin’!’’

Silence. The fear that something had happened to her had started to set in on Kit’s mind, he didn’t want to shoot into the darkness just in case she was playing a prank on him and the bullet accidentally went into her. As soon as Kit stepped inside the house the entire room was filled with a bright light and everything flew up onto the ceiling, including himself.

“Alma!” Kit screamed out loudly before putting his hands to his ears at the loud ringing in his ears, it was like something you’d use on a dog for it to stop misbehaving, he felt like electricity was being shocked all through his body before everything around him turned white and he was suddenly laid on his back on a cold, metal surface. “Alma..?”

Looking over at his wife she was completely naked as was he, but she was unconscious and no matter how hard he tried to reach her she seemed to get further away from him. “Alma.. please wake up!” Tears were streaming down Kit’s face as his voice cracked, his nose was running from how hard he was crying, the fear was getting worse the longer he lay upon the metal surface. Hearing noises around him soon turned Kit ridgid, it was mumbling in a language he didn’t understand.

His head was beating like a drum, it was as if someone had punctured right through his skull but he wouldn’t put it past these creatures if they did. The mumbling got louder and so did the ringing in his ears, screaming out even louder Kit could’ve sworn his ears were bleeding from the pain he was currently feeling it, he just wanted it all to end.

‘’I think it’s time’’ The moment that left the aliens lips, the sentence unknown to Kit, the surroundings went a blinding white before Alma found herself back in the living room that she called home. Quickly standing up she looked around for any sign of her husband. With her whole body shaking she made her way outside hoping he would be out there, crying out for Kit, but all she got was a beam of light like a fallen star flying across the sky before disappearing.

“Kit..”

2000

You were used to people shutting down your claims of what you believed to have happened that evening. You remembered it like it was yesterday but due to you being a child when the event had happened, people just put it down your brain creating false memories to protect you from what actually happened to your mother. The officer in front of you was the same as all the others, he felt sorry for you so he never shuts you down when you tried to explain to him about the ‘abduction’, but he had to soon stop you since you were getting stares from people passing by.

‘’Y/N stop this.. we’ve been through this dozens of times’’ Huffing heavily you shook your head, a look of disappointment on your face when he said that to you. Staring the officer in the eyes you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at him, he always seemed to cut you off as soon as people started staring but you believed people of this town deserved to know. Of course you’ve gotten called everything under the sun.

‘’You should be put in a mental hospital! You’re turning into Julia’s mother, Alma, God rest her soul’’ You knew that voice all too well, she was the gossip of the town Mrs Wilkins and she had a face like a toad, and the perfume she wore wasn’t exactly being kind to your nose either. Feeling the annoyance and anger within you, you decided to stand up for yourself and the officer knew the look in your eyes all too well, but it was too late to even stop you before you spoke with a harsh tone towards her.

‘’Shouldn’t you be getting a new mirror, considering your face made the last one crack!” You quickly got pulled away by the officer before the woman you had now offended could speak another word,

“Go home Y/N! It’s getting late for a woman of your age to be out anyway..” He always used that excuse with you, being a girl of eighteen had more downs than ups, you sometimes wondered why everyone who was young couldn’t wait to turn eighteen, you frankly wanted to go back to being a kid again. “It’s six thirty, I can drive you home if you want?”

Shaking your head but staying silent you put your left foot in front of the other and started walking down the now lit street, the streets lights automatically came on around this time and you knew that your father was going to kill you for being out. It wasn’t even late yet they panicked if you weren’t in the house by five in the evening. Since your mothers ‘disappeared’ he hasn’t wanted the same to happen to you due to being the only thing left of her.

Sitting in front of the television watching your evening program your parents always let you watch before bed, you could hear them arguing like they did every day. The comfort of the teddy bears on the screen is all you had at the age of six, you held onto your stuffed bunny as you tried to drown out the shouting from the next room.

“I know they aren’t my kid you cheating whore!’’ You didn’t even understand what the words even meant at that point in your life, but you knew that they weren’t nice onces just from the tone of your father. Slowly turning around once you heard the door open you stared up at him with your glassy and wide eyes, his face turned soft once he looked at you. You were the innocent one in all of this, your mother wouldn’t admit to you not being your fathers even if it was the truth. Watching his every move until he was out of the front door, your mother was the next one to walk out.

“Come on you, let’s get you ready for bed” She acted as if that argument had never happened as she scooped you into her arms, the moment you wrapped your arms around her neck the ringing in both of your ears started. Her grip on you tightened in that moment and all you remembered was the blinding white light and the ringing. Your memory had gotten rid of the both of you going upwards to the ceiling and the details of the abduction. It was as if something didn’t want you to remember what happened that night. But part of you knew what had happened even if you couldn’t remember most of it. That’s what drove you insane.

Looking down at the watch on your wrist it read ‘7:00pm’, you were in for one hell of a lecture so you decided to take a short cut down the forest. You didn’t like the dark as it was but you knew if you took the long route it would be another hour till you got home. You wished you had taken those driving lessons from your father when he offered you them months ago. You would’ve been home by now if you had a car.

‘’I should’ve taken Officer Carter’s offer of a drive home..’’ You often talked to yourself in times off stress and annoyance but you didn’t want to rely on a man to help you with all your issues, even if it was as little as having no driving licence yet.

The snap of a twig caught your attention and goosebumps formed on your skin out of fear. Someone else was out in these woods. Taking slow steps, you made sure to pay close attention to every sound no matter how little it was. You didn’t know if this person was dangerous and you weren’t taking the risk of being kind if they decided to show themselves.

You made your way over to a bank in the forest, thanking god that you had even got this far without coming across the person that seemed to be in here with you, sliding down the bank your eyes caught side of a shadowy figure inbetween two trees. Your eyes didn’t leave the figure but the air got caught in your throat once you saw it run towards you. It’s arms reaching out for you as you fall on the bank floor due to trying to run backwards. Stupid.

‘’Please you need to help me!’’ The moonlight shone down on the figure as it quickly kneeled down beside you. Themale looked scared and you couldn’t help but go wide eyed due to him being in just a pair of boxer shorts. “I-I’m sorry I scared you, but I really need your help!”

“Okay! Okay! Just calm down..” The man in front of you took a few deep breaths once that left your mouth, him thanking you over and over again for your kindness to a stranger. “Just tell me who you are..”

“I’m going to sound crazy, I was taken by these things. I don’t remember much..”

“What’s your name..?” Your voice was timid and quiet but it was enough for the man in front of you to hear. He kept looking up at the sky then back at you and in that moment you knew what he was afraid off. Your mind wandered but in a good way, what if this man had experienced the same thing your mother had done in 1988? Or was he another homeless man looking for a home but pulling the heartstrings of a woman? You didn’t know but you believe the first question that was circling through your mind.

“Kit.. Kit Walker'' Your eyebrows furrowed once he told you his name. You recognised it from somewhere. Your brain was doing overtime trying to figure out where you had heard that name before, the last name you knew all too well. your neighbour, Julia, had the same last name and you thought she had mentioned a distant relative of some sort.

Maybe this was him? The next sentence he said gave it all away on who this man was. “You need to help me find my wife.. Alma..”

The sentence from Mrs Wilkins rang in your head like a bell ‘You’re turning into Julia’s mother Alma’

Maybe she wasn’t so crazy after all.

#american horror story #american horror story gifs #ahs #ahs gifs #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #ahs imagines #kit Walker #kit Walker imagine

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 4 years ago

Note

loved your previous fic with dick & gar for the "hand-holding" prompt. if you're still taking prompts, then please do #12 - "pushing a strand of hair behind their ear" with dick and gar

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Good Men and Women NOT Doing Nothing

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Gar Logan, Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: There's something different about Gar when he walks into the kitchen one morning and the reason behind it is deeper than Dick initially thought.

Touching | 12. pushing a strand of hair behind their ear, Dick & Gar - for @wanderingroundwonderland

Also tagging my besties @undertheknightwing and @wonderbatwayne 😘😘😘 and now I'm going to sleep 😂

____________________________________________

Dick liked getting up along with the sun, especially on a day like this when warm rays of sunshine filtered through the wide windows, coloring the inside of the Tower with a soft golden glow. It filled his body with much needed energy for the day and brightened his mind like not many other things could.

He was just flipping another pancake over when his attention was distracted by a long, loud yawn.

"Good morning." Rachel mumbled at him as she entered the kitchen, all messy hair and cute pajamas, heading straight for the coffee pot he had prepared for her beforehand.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He replied cheerfully, placing the pancake on the plate beside him. He reached for a can of whipped cream and squeezed a little on top of it, then decorated the meal with fresh strawberries - the way Rachel liked best. "How'd you sleep?" rolled off his tongue with ease as he offered her a portion while she sat down on the stool across from him, holding her favorite mug full of caffeine drink in her hand.

Rachel, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the rest of sleepiness, gave him a lazy smile and pulled the stack of pancakes towards her. "Fine." she shrugged and eagerly got to eating. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, which caused a wave of warmth swarming Dick's chest and made him smile to himself, pleased with both his growing cooking skills and her reaction. "But do you really have to kick us out of bed so early? I need my beauty sleep, Kory says it's very important."

"Of course she does." Dick muttered under his breath, trying not to pay attention to the fact that his heart twitched as if it was electrocuted at the mention of Kory. "Early morning means you have more time during the day."

"So what if we have more time when we can't even move after early training." a new voice joined their conversation, making Dick and Rachel simultaneously turn their heads in the direction it was coming from.

And Dick fell speechless, frozen with a pancake on a spatula in one hand and a plate in the other.

Gar walked in, stretching with his arms raised behind his head, fingers tangled together tightly. It wouldn't be anything unusual, that was a part of his morning routine, but what threw Dick off guard was that Gar looked… different.

"Good morning to you, too." Dick told him with a grin plastered to his face to mask his confusion when the boy dropped down next to Rachel, eyeing her pancakes longingly. The girl snickered and elbowed him in the arm, seemingly not surprised nor bothered by the sudden change.

Gar must have felt Dick's eyes boring into him because he stilled suddenly and turned to the older man.

"What?"

"Nothing, just…" Dick paused for a moment, not exactly sure what to say. "Uh, what's with the new haircut?" he finally blurted after handing the boy his own plate of pancakes.

Gar's eyes grew large like he just turned into a night owl - or more like one eye, the one Dick could see, because the other one was covered by a curtain of his green hair, brushed down on the side of his forehead. He blinked twice and just kept staring back until Rachel shoved her elbow in his side, harder this time.

"Ow! Uh, yeah… that." the boy stuttered, rubbing the hurting spot while shooting Rachel an annoyed glare. "I, uh… I decided to change things up a bit, experiment… yeah…" his words trailed off into an awkward silence and Gar shoved a big piece of pancake into his mouth to avoid talking. As he reached for a strawberry from a bowl on the counter, he didn't meet Dick's eyes.

He's embarrassed, Dick figured as he watched the boy putting all his focus on eating his breakfast to avoid going more into the topic. Rachel kept observing him as well, her stare warm and sympathetic, though Dick couldn't help but notice a hint of worry behind her eyes.

"Looks good to me." Dick commented finally, earnest and true. The change was unexpected, yes, but if Gar felt like wanting to change something about himself then he had every right to do it. And it really didn't look bad. His words got the boy to lift his eyes back up and he sent him a sheepish grin.

"What's up, people?" Jason announced his presence with an unnecessarily loud shout, making Rachel flinch in response.

"Damn it, Jason. It's 7 am, keep it down, would you?" she grumbled at him when he slid into a free seat on her other side.

He threw a glance at her coffee mug, then almost obnoxiously pushed it closer to her with his index finger "Looks like someone is in desperate need of more caffeine."

Dick couldn't resist a chuckle when she rolled her eyes so hard she must have seen the back of her skull.

"Shut up." she huffed as Jason stole a strawberry from her plate and threw it into his mouth, but then his eyes set on Gar.

"Cool haircut, bro." he said, his lips stretching into a smirk. "But that emo punk fringe was cool back in like 2009, y'know?"

Gar sent a death glare his way. "Very funny, Jason."

"Hey, it looks dope!" The other boy raised his hands in defence, but then leaned in closer again, eyes squinting mischievously. "It makes you look… mysterious. Like you got something to… hide."

This time it was Jason's side that became a target of Rachel's elbow and that plus the way he said it made Dick do a double take. There was an undertone to Jason's voice, an insinuation of a deeper meaning. Gar froze for a moment, unsure how to react. Eventually he opted to end the conversation by throwing Jason an awkward smile and got up from his seat, taking the empty plate with him and rounded the kitchen island to put it in the sink.

"You know, Dick," he started, inching closer to his side. "I checked out online this fighting style you mentioned during our last training, the uh… Okichitaw, yeah. And I'd really like to learn it. Some basics at least."

Dick put the last portion of pancakes - his own - on the plate and turned to the boy with a smile, feeling excitement rising slowly in his chest. He knew what Gar was really trying to do right now - change the course of the conversation, turn it away from him and his hair. Dick couldn't blame him for that. But Gar also wasn't lying, he really was eager to learn and Dick appreciated the fact that he even did a bit of his own research.

"Sure, buddy. We can start right away." he replied instantly and Gar beamed at him, buzzing with happiness. His head twitched in an attempt to get the hair out of his eye. It was clear getting accustomed to that new hairstyle is gonna take longer than the boy expected. Dick chuckled at his annoyed frown when the hair fell back on his face. "Now go get ready, we'll start in an hour."

He reached out to playfully ruffle the boy's hair but when he did, Gar unexpectedly flinched. He froze, his body taut as a string, jaw clenched to bite back a groan of pain. The kitchen suddenly became very quiet, no clattering of cutlery, not even breathing. Dick's hand stilled on the boy's head and he slowly took it away, looking at Gar who again was trying to avoid his eyes. Dick looked back at the other two teens, who sat still as statues in their seats, both nervous and waiting - Rachel was biting her lower lip nervously while Jason's eyes jumped between Dick and Gar, smirk tugging at his lips.

At first he hesitated, but eventually Dick reached out again, slowly and carefully this time and pushed the strand of hair out of the boy's face, tucking what he could behind his ear. The green curtain revealed a nasty long cut travelling in line with his hairline, held together by two small dressing plasters. It already stopped bleeding but it looked deep and was inflamed, the area around it red and swollen.

"Holy shit, Gar! When did this happen?" The man's voice rang out with worry as he stepped closer to take a better look. He brushed his fingers over the wound, his touch feather-light but Gar still twitched a little, face twisting in a grimace. He didn't answer, just looked to the side - right at Rachel - pleading for help with his eyes. Dick followed his gaze.

The girl sighed as she put her fork down and shook her head.

"I told you he was gonna notice." she told her friend. What was even more strange was that Jason actually agreed with her, nodding eagerly.

Confusion is not strong enough of a word to describe what was going on inside Dick's mind right now. How the hell did this happen? Was that during yesterday's training? No, he would notice. After? They had a free evening and he let the kids go out to have some fun in the city. A surge of fierce protectiveness washed over him as his eyes went back to Gar who looked so miserable Dick's heart almost broke on the spot. He let his hand slide under the boy's chin and he gently lifted his face up so their eyes could meet.

"What happened, Gar?" he asked, his voice calm and soft, but not without the tense undertone of someone who is ready to throw some punches with the reason behind that wound. "Who did this to you?"

Gar gulped down, eyes wide in fear and mouth dry, and looked at Rachel again - just a glance, but she noticed anyway.

"Tell him." she encouraged him softly. Gar nodded once and took a deep breath, bracing himself.

"Um, yesterday when… when we were at the mall, me and Rach passed by these guys in SFSU jerseys. Six of them, I think." he started, stumbling through the words. His fingers fumbled nervously with the hem of his t-shirt but he bravely held Dick's gaze as he spoke. "They started catcalling Rachel, saying some gross stuff I am not willing to ever repeat and… and I had to step in."

At first all Dick could hear was static after what he just heard. Then the sense of Gar's words slowly started coming to him and he staggered back.

"What?"

Now it wasn't just protectiveness, it was pure fire raging through Dick's veins. Rachel… getting catcalled? That was unacceptable. Unfathomable. It wasn't just crossing the line, it was breaking it like a dry twig and setting it on fire and whoever did that was really fucking lucky Dick wasn't there to hear it. He let go of Gar's chin and set his hand on his shoulder instead, trying to keep himself from shaking. His other hand already formed into a fist, fingers curled so tightly his knuckles turned white. He instantly looked at Rachel, searching for any signs of something being wrong, a series of questions already forming on his tongue, but she beat him to it and quickly shook her head.

"I'm okay, I swear. Nothing happened."

"You sure?" he insisted, his gut gnawing at him to learn more because maybe they are not telling him everything. "They didn't do anything? You're not hurt? Because I swear to God, if-"

"Dick, I'm okay." was her only reply, soft, quiet and calming.

"She wanted me to ignore them but they were very pushy." Gar continued, his gaze darting between her and Dick. "They surrounded us, one of them got too close to her and got… grabby, so to speak so I punched him."

Grabby? As in… no, that was too much. His fists were now itching to meet that person's face. To rip their insides out and wrap them around their neck. No one dares to lay a damn finger on her. No one.

"Fucking assholes." Jason muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He sent Rachel a sympathetic look and she smiled back at him, thanking silently.

"I would have been fine, I know how to handle myself." she insisted to Gar as she got up from her seat and walked up to him to lay a hand on his shoulder. He instantly turned to her.

"I know, but what was I supposed to do? Just stand there and do nothing? We're Titans now, remember? Men and women not doing nothing."

Dick honestly wanted to hug Gar in that moment, his chest filling with an insane amount of pride. He stood up for her, protected her, even if he got his ass kicked in the end. They can work on that and after what Dick just learned he will make damn sure that they will, but the intention was what mattered the most right now.

He squeezed Gar's shoulder gently and when the boy turned back to him, Dick leaned in to look him in the eyes.

"That was very brave of you, thank you. I'm proud of you, buddy." he said, noticing how Gar's eyes glazed over with tears after hearing the words. The boy chuckled softly, nodding in response. "But how did you get this?" He asked, pointing at his forehead.

"Well, that asshole punched back." Gar stated bluntly, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "He knocked me down pretty hard, I hit my head on the edge of a fountain, y'know that giant one in the main hall. I saw stars, for a moment I couldn't move-"

"You scared the hell out of me." Rachel whispered, sliding her arm around his shoulders.

"Sorry." Gar replied, bumping his head with hers. And immediately regretted it, flinching at the pain it caused to his forehead. "Anyway, after that they left us alone, walked away laughing. And before you ask-" he pointed his finger at Dick, seeing that the man was already gearing up to ask questions. "No, I don't know their names and no, you can't go find them and beat the shit out of them. I know you want to."

Dick snickered and shook his forehead.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Dude, you're basically vibrating with fury right now." Jason told him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ooof, I wouldn't want to be on the other end of that wrath."

Dick decided to ignore his younger brother's remark, but couldn't deny the truth behind it - the fury he felt right now, if unleashed, could be deadly. It pulled a delicate string, knocked on a door he locked when he brought these three kids to San Francisco. It reminded him of the rage and violence of his Robin days. Dick wanted to put it away for good but to be honest it would really come in handy right now.

"I'm sorry," Gar suddenly whispered, which brought Dick back to the present - and caught completely off guard. The boy bowed his head down, letting the hair fall back on his forehead and cover the cut.

"For what?" Dick asked softly, moving his hand to the nape of Gar's neck.

"I should have done more. I would have but the Tiger started showing and… I couldn't risk it so I had to back down."

At first Dick just stared at him, same as Rachel, completely taken aback. Then he opened his arms and smiled at the two teenagers.

"Come here, you two."

He pulled them into his arms, pressing them tightly to his chest. Gar froze at first, surprised but then tucked his face into his shoulder and breathed deeply. Rachel nestled into his other side, he could feel her smiling against his neck when her arms circled his middle. He put his hands in their hair, cradling their heads and pulling them closer as he spoke.

"Gar, you have nothing to apologize for, okay?" he insisted, turning his face to the boy. "You did the right thing. I'm proud of you and you have no idea how happy I am that you were with her back then." When Gar nodded, Dick turned to Rachel and she lifted her head to look at him. "And you. I'm glad you're okay. To be honest, I was scared something like this would happen someday but thankfully Gar was with you. But if it ever happens again, you go straight to me, got it? You shout, you call, whatever means necessary. I'll be there in a heartbeat."

Rachel gave him a single nod, a soft smile turning her lips upwards.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Dick sighed, finally feeling his anger subsiding and disappearing completely. He pulled back, brushing his palms over the kids' cheeks. He turned to Gar, who again was fiddling with his bangs and reached out to tuck it behind the boy's ear, laughing. "Alright, now let's get you properly patched up, huh? I'm sorry, but whoever did this-" he pointed at the plasters that were barely holding onto the skin. "-did a terrible job."

Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Ouch, harsh."

#dc titans #dick grayson #rachel roth #garfield logan #jason todd #graysonfam #titans #titans season 3 #dcu titans

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years ago

Text

Shadows and Pills - 2

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it.

A massive thank you to all my friends for support, especially to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield . I say it a lot, but you need to know I love you.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: Part 1 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills

Morning Routine: Already woken up. Shut off alarm with a shriek of terror by heaving it across the room with enough force that it shatters against the wall. Breathing exercises for thirty minutes to lower accelerated heart rate. Shower until the hot water is long gone and hypothermia is close to setting in, but she still can’t get clean. The thick, mucus-like sensation won’t leave her skin, glue and ashes spread thick over her flesh in a foul assault to her tactile senses that leaves her dizzy and faint if she considers it for too long. Throw out every scrap of food in the apartment; just the sight of it makes her gag and retch. Choke down the meds (the only thing she can stomach, at this point). Throw on clothes she’s mostly sure are on the correct end of her body. Grab her keys, and…

Where…

She always puts her keys in the same spot. Dish on the tiny table by the door. That’s her key dish. She knows she put them there. They are always there. She can remember putting them there; it’s one of the precious few things she knows she can do right these days.

So…

Why aren’t they there?

Thirty minutes turning the entire apartment upside down looking for the keys, ignoring the shadow that follows her from room to room, skittering to a far wall whenever the shadow runs too near, pretending that she is still alone, searching, searching, where the hell are they, I always put them in the dish, I know I dropped them in there, I can hear the clink from when I put them away yesterday where could they possibly have got to it’s not like THEY’D WANDER OFF BY THEMSELVES WHERE ARE MY GODDAMNED KEYS-

A searing, ripping pain tears her from her spiraling thoughts and back to the present where her hands are clenched in her hair, her nails dug into her scalp, and something slick and hot slides between her fingers. She releases her clenched fists, but her fingers come away smeared with blood and clumps of hair, and her shoulders begin to tremble, her mouth quivering and eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“I just...need my keys. I need to breathe. I need my keys. I need-”

<clink>

Her head whips toward the sound, and there they are. In their dish. In the same dish she knows she left them in last night. Where they absolutely were not sitting seconds ago.

“But. I didn’t. They-“

No.

She snatches her keys and flees, followed closely by her personal nightmare.

...

The silence stretches out longer than even Alexa is comfortable with. The constant scratching of the doctor’s pen has quieted, and still Alexa sits, unnerved but unwilling to speak without direction. Answering questions is fine, but if she speaks on her own, she’ll start babbling. And there are a few things she needs to not say.

Like how she’s averaging about an hour of sleep a night, according to her clock. The nightmares start every time she falls asleep. She remembers less and less about any of them, to the point where the only way she knows she was even asleep is the inevitable rip back to consciousness.

And she’s not just missing parts of her dreams. Her days are beginning to blur, individual moments bleeding into others until she’s lost whole chunks of time, hours that are a smear in her memory with no real details. The loss, both of her days and nights, shakes her more than the lack of sleep. What else is she losing, along with her memory?

She can’t tell him why she’s wearing a hat or how she has to set reminders on her phone to stop tearing at her hair, how she has to clean her scalp and hold pressure at least once a day to stop the bleeding and try to repair the damage done by digging nails and ripped follicles.

She can’t tell him about how she can’t look in mirrors anymore. Two days ago, she was brushing her hair out into a ponytail with the intention of wrapping it into a skull-aching bun that might help hold everything inside her head and maybe possibly help her keep her fingers out of her hair, and then suddenly the eyes looking back out at her weren’t her own. Brown bled into ice blue then green in a flash; a wicked, cruel smile curved her lips, and she could feel herself smile, but she wasn’t smiling, and-

So, no, she shouldn’t lead the conversation today. Today Alexa needs a little guidance.

She feels the doctor’s gaze, but there’s less scrutiny than usual. His eyes feel a little more sympathetic than she’s used to, but she still won’t look up. He’s good at getting her to talk, and she needs every ounce of self-control just to keep herself held together and not exploding across his polished, pristine desk.

“Alexa, you don’t look like you’re...How have y-”

She must look pretty wretched if even the doctor is at a loss for words. She wouldn’t know. She has actively avoided all reflective surfaces for two days and has no idea of the state of her appearance. She can’ remember the last time she ate. What’s left of her hair is tucked under a knit cap; she’s cold all the time now, anyway, so the cap is a constant accessory. And it helps keep her hands out of her hair. If her looks are anything as bad as the state of her thoughts-

“I’m sorry it’s so bad for you right now.”

The statement is quiet, sincere, and wholly unexpected. Alexa almost drops her guards, almost meets his eyes. Her hands quake with the effort of maintaining her silence, clutching the edges of her chair with aching, creaking fingers. Her control is as brittle as her nerves; she wants to share, wants to not be alone with the shadow that’s her only company these days, but if the doctor knew…

“Are you sleeping anymore at all?”

She nods once, a sharp, staccato gesture that leaves out more than it says. It’s not a lie. One hour, however broken up in however many fragments, is still one hour, and sleep is still sleep.

“Are you following your medication schedule?”

Another single dip of her chin. She gives herself a little credit for not leaving anything out of this answer. She’s even remembering to follow the dosage increases. Maybe even a couple of increases of her own. Anything to numb, to shut out, to keep...it...away.

“Alexa, are you still with me?”

God, she wishes...everything feels muffled and thick, like her existence is coated in petroleum jelly. She's just so tired, and everything is so heavy and...and difficult…

“I can’t help you if you won’t communicate with me. Help me help you. Anything. Just the basic facts.”

Where to even start? Maybe getting locked up would be worth it if he really can help, can really make this...stop…

“I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again.”

She’s pretty sure nothing can help at this point, so really there’s no need to keep anything back. Being hospitalized can’t be any worse than living like this…

“Relax. Can you show Me where it hurts?”

No.

...no...not here, not…

“Your lips are moving, but I can’t hear what you’re saying. Is there something you wish to confess? The good doctor can’t reach you now, but I am ready to receive your prayers. Speak, Alexa. Tell Me everything.”

Get out, get OUT, I have to go, I can’t, you can’t this isn’t - GET OUT!

“ALEXA! Wake up! You’re safe! Come back!”

Fingers, firm in their grip, but warm and clean and so very present, clench around her hand, pulling her out of her mind and back to the office. The rushing noise in her ears fades until she realizes it is the heaving of her own panicked breaths. She clenches her fingers, catching the doctor’s hand before he can pull away.

She hasn’t touched another person since she left the hospital.

“Please...I just need...a minute.”

He sits in the chair closest to her, holding her hand resolutely, despite any personal protocols to the contrary that he has demonstrated in previous sessions.

“As long as you need.” There is no eagerness, no exasperation, only concern and calm, and it soothes her raw nerves in a way nothing else has. She focuses on the warmth, the sheer thereness of his grip, and breathes, squinting her eyes against the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds.

Too bright, too warm, too…

The fingers in her palm chill suddenly, their embrace tightening painfully. Her hand feels slick, not with sweat, and her teeth begin to chatter. Her eyes squeeze shut as her stomach shatters, and a pitiful mewling escapes her lungs.

“Take all the time you need. I possess the patience of millenia.”

Breathe. Breathe slowly, you’re asleep. You’re exhausted, you just fell asleep. Wake yourself up. You can do this. Just...just breathe and wake up.

And then her hand is free of all contact, and the air in her lungs comes easily. The warmth of the filtered sun returns to her frozen limbs, not overly bright in the least.

“I think our session was particularly productive today.”

The therapist's voice comes from farther away, and she opens her eyes to find him back at his desk, pen in hand, legal pad full of fresh notes. She blinks, swallows, and sits up a little straighter.

“You seem to be making excellent progress with your strategies. Go ahead and up your dosage to the next step. Remember, I’ll be out of town on Thursday and Monday, so I’ll see you again in ten days. You have the emergency number if anything goes wrong?”

She nods numbly, unable to process anything beyond the basic requirements of behavior needed at the moment. He eyes her, his forehead wrinkling in sudden concern.

“Don’t hesitate to call that number at any hour,” he finally says, his fingers steepled to show just how serious, how sincere, he is. “Anything at all, whatever you need to talk about, call that number. The nurse will transfer you immediately if it’s an emergency. Will you call if you need to?”

She nods, a little more vaguely than she intends but her throat is paralyzed, her tongue nerveless and useless. He accepts the gesture at face value, though, and dismisses her with wishes for “continued progress and a good weekend.”

…

Afternoon routine: Stay out as late as possible, put off the inevitable. Stay out all goddamned night if she has to. There’s no point in voluntarily returning home; she knows this with a sense of dread as acute and sharp as the pain in her scalp. So she shuffles on, unseeing and unseen in the city that never sleeps, one of a numberless mass who denies reality for the sanity that fantasy provides, pretending that she isn’t being stalked, that she isn’t haunted by a continuous loop of ghosts and flashbacks of the dead from that day reminding her over and over that she survived while they didn’t, that she must remember them, that she isn't losing her mind, that the shadow isn’t constantly whispering to her, commanding her over and over and over to simply let go.

She pretends that she isn’t blacking out and waking to find herself in bed, night after night, in the midst of torment and debasement that her ragged mind can neither handle nor shut out. The shadow rips at her in a thousand ways, and she feels all of them, every shred of her consciousness pulled apart and examined and manipulated until she can’t remember who she was before this fundamental desecration.

Release yourself. I can break you completely, help you forget the pain and the misery. Let Me shatter you, remake you in My Glory. Only then can you truly be free from pain.

She fights. It’s all she has left, this battle of wills, and she clings to the tattered bits of her remaining self with a tenacity that impresses even the shadow.

How you shine, even in My darkness. Let me turn your burn to an icy one, let Me freeze your pain, let go and drift in My adoration. I shall raise you up; only grant Me entrance, give Me leave, and I will bless you, bring meaning and solace to your piteous existence.

God help her, she’s starting to slip. She just wants everything to end. No one will miss her, no one is depending on her. The only noise her phone has made in weeks are the reminders that she has set. She hasn’t sent in an assignment for nearly a month, and no one has so much as emailed. What is she holding on for, anyway?

You have fought so long and so hard. I can reward your valor, provide you a balm for your suffering. I will keep you safe from pain, from truth, from choice, from other poison devils. I can take the very memories from you, just as I did before, save you from yourself.

What?

And then her mind is flooded with a scene, a memory of the attack, but she sees it from outside herself, as if watching a film with herself as protagonist. She flees as debris falls all around, narrowly missing pipes, concrete, and office furniture as it rains down mindlessly, destroying life after life. By the time she reaches the ground floor of the stairwell, everyone is packed tight and covered with blood, dust, unspeakable filth, and the wretched crowd bursts into the lobby in a blind panic. They reach the street in the same state and turn as one to flee in the direction of least resistance.

Alone in the crowd, Alexa is jerked to a halt, nearly losing her feet as bodies plow around and nearly through her, but she is frozen as if glued to the pavement. There is no safety anywhere. A battle rages around them, monsters everywhere, incomprehensible and terrible, and then the glass lobby doors behind them explode, and Alexa knows the brief but exhilarating sensation of flight.

And then she crashes, and she knows the timeless and terrible sensation of fire. And pain. And crushing weight.

Watching the scene passively, she remembers everything, she feels everything even as her other self does, but now she is also an outside witness to the anguish. She knows the lines of suffering etched on her face and knows that she wears them even now. She feels the words echoing through her mind from that day, a thought, a plea, a silent prayer to someone, anyone who can help, can end her suffering.

How long...minutes...hours...years...just help, please…please, I don't care how anymore, just...end it.

And then a figure drops from the heavens, it seems, falling from one of the monsters’ flying vehicles, and it crosses the street and sidewalk as if drawn straight to her by the waning strength of her silent screams.

An impossibly cold hand grasps hers, pulling her up from the rubble, sliding her from underneath the bits of building as if they aren't present and pressing the life from her, bringing her face to face with darkness. The sun dissolves, shadows descend, and she decides that, as deaths go, hers could be worse.

She is lifted as if she weighs nothing, the fingers pressing into her face. A bitter, gelid frost flows through her veins, and the pain is mercifully dulled, lessened to a mere phantom, and then the god (for surely her savior can be no less to have such power at hand) pulls her into an icy, terrible embrace.

I find Myself in need of a conduit. Grant Me some small space of sanctuary, and in return I shall heal your broken body. Allow Me entrance, now, woman, before you depart this plane entirely. I am your God, your only chance of salvation. Do you accept Me?

His voice is black velvet, midnight shadows slipping across the moon, and she can’t find the will to say no. Giving in is so much easier, hurts so much less, and she feels as if she’s been hurting forever, spent her whole life being crushed to death.

“Yes.”

His lips press to her, but there is nothing tender in the kiss. Ice, death, absence rushes into her, infecting a small fraction of every cell, sinking deep into her psyche before erasing all remembrance of its presence.

Alexa thrashes under the weight of the memories, the weight of the phantom debris crushing her down, only to find the man, the god himself lies atop her, pinning her emaciated form to her ruined sheets. His pale skin glows in the night, his ebony hair falling around their faces in an blasphemous mimicry of a halo. His painful beauty rips one last thing loose within her, and she remembers.

I would that you should allow Me leave to heal you once more, to form you into a proper vessel. I shall alleviate your anguish, and you may sink into My worship with euphoric, blissful abandon.

She is tempted, more so than any other time in her existence. She thought her imprisonment under the shattered building was horrible, but now she knows true torment. And yet, she resists.

Why do you continue to battle? You cannot prevail, and submission will bring you such pleasure as you have never known. Am I not your own personal God to worship? Do you not wish to drown in My blessing, to submerge yourself in My oblivion?

But he is the author of her suffering, as well, this would-be god who attacked her city, killed thousands of people for his ambitions and family squabbles. Who is she to tarnish the world’s grief for her own personal relief?

But he knows what is in her heart and her thoughts; it was there he planted the seed that has grown to strangle her sanity and reality, and he sends pressure through the roots of this vine to dig into her very soul. She shivers beneath him with wordless agony.

His face presses against hers, tongue snaking out to trace a tear track up her cheek, back to its source. Frozen lips ghost over her clenched eyelids, and she swallows the miserable moan that rolls up from her stomach.

I saved you once when I could so easily have allowed you to continue your half-life under the rubble until your flame sputtered and died, as it was meant to. And I shall show Myself once more a merciful, benevolent God. For you, My pet, a gift.

And suddenly there is a space in Alexa’s mind, a blank where something, someone, important once lived, someone vital stripped away. She gets a last glimpse of a smiling woman, proudly showing off a photo of a swaddled infant, of a filing cabinet collapsing, of a curling hand, before Brenda is ripped from her mind like so many strands of hair from her scalp. The pain of Brenda’s death, the horror of her last moments, yes, but also every bit of the love between them.

And then the name is gone, too.

Have I pleased you? Do you see now what relief can be had with submission?

“That...wasn’t...she wasn't yours to take-” But even the memory of the violation is fading, leaving only breathless, panicked horror and dull, aching want in its wake.

The shadowed god frowns, displeasure pressed into every line of his face, and his fingers tighten until the bones in Alexa’s wrists shriek in protest.

Must I nail Myself to a cross or rip out My eye to be worthy of your reverence? I grant you one more gift, then, of choice. One day to consider. Embrace My oblivion freely, willingly, joyously, as you know you should, and feel My pleasure. Or suffer in your belief that this pale, pointless realm offers you anything like what I can give. This shall be My last offering. Submission is sweetest when freely given, but so, too, can I revel in seizing what you so stubbornly withhold.

His lips seal over hers, stealing air and screams alike, and she feels him everywhere at once, emphasizing his threat, his promise. Her traitorous flesh, craving any tourniquet to stem the endless flow of pain, cleaves to his frozen form, curving against his body in a mockery of love making that leaves her stomach heaving.

And then he is gone. His presence, his pressure, his shadow, even his laugh lingers, but his form vanishes with her next thought. She falls from the bed, a perspiring, retching, wailing mess. There is nothing left within her to eject, but her digestive tract makes a resounding effort.

It’s hours until the sun comes up, and she counts every second from where she shivers, wedged tight between the bed and the nightstand. ...

3 (end)

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siriuslyshewrote · 5 years ago

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Way Down We Go - J.S

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings - Miscarriage

In which Y/N loses her baby, only a few months after John gets back from the war.

Can’t tell if I hate this or not, but I’m posting it anyway ✨

Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve?

Every man was different after the war, but ,at least to you, none so much as John. War had taken his spirit, Polly had told you over a cup of tea a few months ago, and you couldn't disagree. Sometimes, you saw the same, comedic, lighthearted eighteen year old that had left you, when he played with your two young children, or when you were together in bed, but now, it felt forced. The glimmer in his eyes was dull, and you could do nothing, except be there and hold him tightly when the night terrors made him come alive with yells and screams in the night. It had put a strain between you - between every relationship in Britain, really - but the love you had for him hadn't faded, not over those four years apart with only letters every few weeks, nor when he would lose his temper like he never had before, or when he would stay out all night, high or drunk, desperately searching for some relief from his now miserable life. You didn't think he loved you any less either. When he held you at night, when you kissed, or had sex, it felt the same as it always had, at least for a little while, like you had your old John back. It just grew harder for him to show his love, sometimes.

You would never complain , of course - what did you have to complain about? You got your husband back, when so many women didn't. You did the same as you always did - adapt to this new lifestyle that you faced - the you both faced together , you reminded him frequently.

Whoa, we get what we deserve

However, your already muddled life became even more daunting, the day you found out you were pregnant with your third child, at only 22, only months after he had come back. Katie and George were still practically toddlers - only five and three, and when you had found out, you had fled to Polly's in a state, sobbing and stating that there was no way you could do this, not right now, not so soon. It already half felt like you had a new born child again, you had guiltily wept to Polly - you were up all night most days with John, after his nightmares when he refused to go back to sleep, making cups of tea, curling up together with the curtains wide open, to let him remember he was no longer in the dark trenches, but in your tiny town house in the centre of Birmingham, hands gripping the others tiredly, repeating varying mantras of you're okay, you're home, you're here, I'm here for you, I'll never leave.

The fear of telling John about the pregnancy was worse than when you had sobbed to him on the sofa about Katie, when you were both only sixteen. He could barely keep up the pretence of the dad he had once been to his two children now, though he tried to so desperately. But, surprisingly to you, and everyone else around you, he was overjoyed. Every night, before the bump even began to form, he would kiss your stomach, murmuring sweet words to the baby inside. You both felt like this baby would perhaps be the new start that John so desperately needed.

And way down we go

And all of that hope, that love, that excitement, had been dashed on one single morning, four months to the day since John had got back.

He had left early, that morning, to go to work, to the betting shop only several homes down the street on Watery Lane. He had, for the first time in months, done what he always used to - run his fingers through your tangled bed hair, placed a kiss on your lips, with a whisper of “I love you.” That had left you with a wide smile, and for a few minutes, perhaps an hour, that warmth from that kiss filled you with a new hope.

It had only been when Katie and George had woke up, and began jumping up and down on your bed, when you had gotten up, going to grab them with a laugh, that you started to feel the back pain you had been feeling for hours worsen. You had just assumed you’d pulled your back chasing the children around the house, yesterday. It was only when you went to make the bed - when you saw the blood, only a small patch of it, that everything really clicked together in your mind.

It felt like everything slowed down for a moment - Katie and George were still rolling around giggling, the birds were still crowing outside, and the sheets were still clutched in your hands. You knew then, of course, that it was gone - that everything was gone. John’s happiness, that new, beautiful chance that you felt like you had earned, that all of the hardship would finally been worth it.

“Katie, darling?” Your voice was croaking, and you coughed, to clear it, to not alarm the little girl in front of you, who was so goddamn excited for her new sibling. “Run and go get your Aunt Polly for me, won’t you? Just down the street?”

Way down we go

She nodded, a beam on her little cheeks at this new sudden trust and independence, dashing out of the room, George rushing after her quickly, on his chubby little toddler legs. Katie waited for a second, grabbing his hand, half dragging him along behind her.

Your hands still clutched the sheets, as you sunk back onto the bed, a half scream building up in your throat. Not this, not this, not this. God, please, not this.

Say way down we go

It was hours later, night time just beginning to fall, and Polly was bustling around the kitchen, after murmuring something about making a cup of tea. You’d only just both got back from the doctors, and you’d barely spoken a word on the journey back on the tram, Polly’s hand clutched in yours - the only semblance of comfort you would allow her to give. She didn’t even try to put into words what she wanted to say, and for that you were grateful, because if she even said it, the word that the doctor had spoken with a pat on the shoulder, you would surely cry how you had in the doctors office, and on the tram, and on the walk home. You hadn’t stopped crying, all day, though your sobs were now occasional sniffles, as you lay buried under a pile of blankets, curled up, in both physical and emotional pain that was almost worse than anything you had ever experienced.

The front door opened, the distinct creak rippling through the silent house, almost like a warning. You froze, squeezing your eyes shut, for the first time wishing that this would be the night that John stayed out at the Garrison.

It wasn’t. You heard his voice bounce off the walls, higher pitched, afraid in a tone you’d only heard him speak whilst encapsulated in dreams.

“Y/N?”

You thanked god the kitchen was before the sitting room you lay in, that Polly could intercept him before he had to see you, and you him, because how could you face him? This baby was your fresh chance. And you had fucking lost it.

You let your feet run wild

“John.” Her voice was so gentle, as if she was afraid he would break with a single wrong word. Perhaps he would. Perhaps you would too, now.

“Pol? I’ve just - I’ve just fuckin’ got back, and Katie and George are at yours talking about how their ‘mummy is bleeding’? What the fuck does that mean? Where the hell-“

You squeezed your eyes tightly closed, hands tightly gripping onto the cushion you had wrapped yourself around. Perhaps if you thought hard enough, you could imagine yourself away, anywhere away from here.

“John. Come and sit down.” Polly’s voice was calm but firm, and though you heard several more questions from John, the kitchen door shut, and you were left with the silence, that was almost worse than the words.

The only words you had spoke to Polly when you left that doctors office was that you couldn’t possibly tell John. It was selfish, you knew, but the thought of his face crumpling, the thought of him no longer kissing your forehead in the morning, or sleeping with one hand on your stomach, was enough to make you want to hide away for ever.

Their conversation felt like it took a long time, though really, it could have only been an hour or so. You couldn’t hear much, but the sound of a crashing chair, of the shattering of some porcelain, the one singular almost roar of pain, was enough for you to cover your ears with your palms, squeezing close your teary eyes. After that, everything became quiet again, and you stayed as you were, staring up at the ceiling, eyes following the pattern of the plaster.

Time has come as we all, oh, go down

Polly left the kitchen before John, with her eyes suspiciously red, for such an astute woman. She wrapped her arms around you, supporting you, helping you get to bed, insisting on that, before she left. You didn’t really need the physical support, of course, but the feeling of the mother-like figure holding you close was comforting.

Polly left you soon after, tucked into bed, with a stroke of your hair, and a promise of visiting tomorrow, and of looking after Katie and George for as long as you needed, until you were ready.

Yeah but for the fall, ooh, my

You didn’t know how long you lay there, waiting for the door to slam shut again, waiting for him to leave, to never come back, but it never came. Instead, you heard the creaking of the stairs that so desperately needed fixing, if you ever got round to doing so.

John stood in the doorway for a while, a long look exchanged between you. His eyes were bloodshot, with alcohol and tears, and he only wore his white vest and his suit trousers, his hair messy.

Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?

“I’m sorry.” You spoke first, the meaning in your words thick.

He didn’t speak, just kicking off his shoes, laying down in the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, so your head rested upon his chest, as your legs went to wrap around his in the way they always did. You cried in his arms for a time, and you knew he was crying too, felt the damp spot in your hair where he had buried his head.

“Don’t ever fucking say sorry for this, okay?” His voice was a mixture of anger and grief and love and it made you cry even more. “This isn’t your fault.”

“This was supposed to be our fresh start.” You pulled back a little, looked into his eyes. “Our blessing, after everything...”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, trying to hold in his emotions, to be strong for you, like he had always vowed to do.

“I know, love. I know.”

“You were so happy.” You said quietly. “And now...”

He was quiet for a few minutes.

Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark

“Of course I was happy to have a ... have a baby with you. But that wasn’t the only reason I was happy. It was because for the first time since I got back, you seemed genuinely excited, and.. god, I don’t know - full of life. I took that from you by coming back.”

“How can you say that?” Your eyes were full of tears again as you looked up at him. “You didn’t take anything from me by coming back. You fucking gave me back the love of my life by coming back. Polly won’t have ever told you what I was like when you were gone, but I was a mess, John. I’d be a mess every day without you. Don’t you ever say that again.” Your voice rose to almost anger.

“Do you not think I see how tired you always are? How you don’t have energy anymore because I keep you awake all fucking night? How you smile less than you ever have before.”

“I don’t care about being tired John. I got you back. I got you back, and I won’t care about being tired ever again if I can hear your heartbeat every night like I can. Because I spent four years wondering if that heart was even still beating.”

His lip wobbled.

“I don’t want you to have to sacrifice for the rest of your life-“

“This is not sacrifice. This is love, okay?”

“I’m going to be like this for the rest of my life. I know it.”

“And I will be there for every night. I will hold your hand and help you through it all, okay?” Your voice quietened, hand cradling his cheek.

“I-“

“Whether you like it or not.” You continued firmly.

“I love you.” He spoke, holding you tighter. “We’ll... we’ll get through this together won’t we?”

“We’ll get through it all together.” Your voice was still croaky, still in pain, but those blue eyes of his filled you with some form of strength, as always.

One of his hands pressed onto your stomach.

“I love you.” He murmured quietly, and you knew it was to your unborn baby, the one that you would never get to name, or know the gender of, or watch grow up.

“I love you.” You repeated, one of your hands going over his, fingers interlocking.

Yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall

And they will run you down, down 'til you go

Yeah, so you can't crawl no more

#john shelby #john shelby imagines #john shelby x reader #john shelby fanfiction #john shelby headcanons #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 4 years ago

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Boys are made to be men. Part 4 - The cow dance

Series Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Things are different outside the city. When Bucky moves out of the city to live closer to his father’s best friend, Steve, he meets a peculiar girl from a strange family. She’s loved by everyone in the village and like him, she’s missing a limb. And, to Bucky’s surprise, she’s determined to make him part of her life.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2897

Warning: This chapter contains a panic attack.

Author’s note: I am not disabled and I couldn’t ever imagine what it’s like. If you have anything to not about that aspect of the story, please send me a message so I can fix possible mistakes or misunderstandings in upcoming chapters. Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates.

The smell of beautiful flowers surrounds you as you gather Peggy’s favorite flowers, just as Steve requested. She enjoys pinks and reds together, with white to blend it together. As gently as you can, you lay them on your workspace and start to work on a bouquet. A bouquet you make almost every week. ‘Y/n, are you still taking the kids to the cow dance tomorrow?‘ You peek up from your work at the bouquet. Your eyes meet Steve’s, who looks hopeful and happy. Happy like he always is. ‘Oh, yes, of course,‘ you smile meekly at him, continuing to work on the bouquet Steve requested for Peggy like he does every week. It’s adorable really. The two are still so in love. You adore it but you can’t treasure it as much as you had last Monday. ‘Did you invite Bucky?‘ You feel like someone just stepped on your toes as pain shoots through her body. You try to ignore it but Steve can see. He always sees. ‘No, but I’m sure Sam is dragging him along. Those two get along great,‘ you give him another smile as you peek up at him for a mere second. You are uncomfortable as you take a deep breath. ‘I haven’t really seen him after Monday.‘ ‘Now that you say that, neither have I.‘ Steve seems worried at that fact, but you can tell he’s trying to hide it. He seems lost in thought, getting nervous somehow. ‘I got your bouquet,‘ you say to pull him out of his thoughts. ‘What happened between the two of you?‘

A loud pang comes from an old pickup carrying things away from the market. A second ago, you were walking down the street with Bucky. Now, you’re alone. Her eyes dart to the ground where Bucky has tried to take shelter, look extremely terrified. You kneel next to him, gently putting your hand on his shoulder. ‘Bucky, it was a car. You’re fine,‘ you lull to him, ‘please look at me.‘ His fearful eyes look up at you. There are movies of memories playing behind them, in his brain, on repeat. ‘But I- It’s not- It’s not safe,‘ he stutters, trembling as he speaks. You see tears forming in his eyes, beads of sweat on his forehead. ‘You’re good Bucky, listen to the sound of my voice,‘ you hum to him, helping him sit up on the pavement, ‘you’re in the village. A car made a loud sound. You’re good.’ And as if it’s nothing, he snaps back into it. He looks around in a frenzy. ‘Wha-‘ ‘You’re good,‘ you repeat to him, ‘it’s fine.‘ You put your hands on his shoulders and look into his eyes, searching for the fear you just saw. It seems mostly gone. A smile pulls back on your face as you pull him into your arms. ‘You’re good,‘ you repeat again.

‘Nothing really,‘ You tell Steve, ‘we had lunch, walked around a bit, and then we went home.‘ ‘Something tells me you’re not telling the full story,‘ Steve says and crosses his arms. You know that look on his face. It’s firm and fatherly. It’s a “tell me what you’re keeping from me young lady“ kind of look. ‘I don’t want to speak for him,‘ you tell him with a shrug as you try to look indifferent about the whole ordeal, ‘he wouldn’t want me to.‘ ‘Y/n, I don’t know what happened but he normally goes to talk to me,‘ Steve tells you, ‘he didn’t come to me and you look like shit-‘ ‘Language.‘ ‘I’m sorry but it’s true,‘ he states, slamming his hands on your workstation, ‘he doesn’t tell anyone when he’s unwell.‘ ‘Look, I’ll go by his house today to see if he wants to talk,‘ you tell him reluctantly, ‘if he doesn’t want to, I’ll come right over to yours.‘ ‘You better keep that promise,‘ Steve tells you as he puts down the money for the bouquet. You watch as he walks away and feel yourself crumble with every step he takes outside. Bucky doesn’t want to talk to you. He didn’t want to talk to you Tuesday, he didn’t want to talk to you Wednesday, and he didn’t want to talk to you yesterday. You tried. You really did.

And yet here you are again. Friday afternoon, after your shift, passing past Bucky’s house. For a second, you want to walk past but you promised Steve. You promised and you can never go back on a promise you made to the captain. With a sigh and a hesitant step, you walk up to his front door and press the doorbell, silently hoping he won’t go mad from the sound. His blinds have been closed since Monday and no one truly knows what he’s up to as he has no job and he has only seen Sam once or twice. So there’s no one to check up on him. After you first ring, there is no stir in the house. You sigh, reluctant to ring again but you do it nonetheless. After all, Steve asked her to check up on him. So you press the doorbell again, longer this time. Finally, you hear footsteps inside. You hear them come closer and the door opens. ‘Steve, I told you I’m not going to- Oh. Y/n.‘ You look him up and down quickly. He looks tired, stressed, annoyed. There’s not much of his handsome stature left. His beard is out of control, the bags under his eyes could hold melons, and his stature looks broken. ‘Hi Bucky.‘ There’s a slight smile on your face, a painful one. ‘It wasn’t Steve who kept ringing your doorbell.‘ He takes a second to realize what you just told him. ‘Oh, okay. Ehm.‘ ‘Can I come in?‘ ‘It’s kind of a mess,‘ he says, trying to make up excuses but you’re not taking them. ‘I don’t mind.‘ ‘I do.‘ ‘Then tell me I can’t come inside.‘ It’s like they’ve both taken a deep breath, holding it until one of you faints or gives up. Bucky knows he can’t win. He’s tired and upset while you look ready to fight. ‘Fine,‘ he grumbles and opens the door further, not waiting for you to walk inside as he walks over to the living room. You step inside and have a look around. The whole place looks like an Ikea showroom. Everything is black and white, it doesn’t feel homey at all. There’s nothing here that looks comfortable. It reminds you of a hospital. That’s how black, white, and sterile the whole place looks. And yet, it looks a mess. There’s nothing really messy but it just is a mess. It feels like a mess. ‘Why did you run from me Bucky?‘ ‘I didn’t run.‘ ‘Bucky, please.‘ ‘Y/n, I’m broken,‘ he yells at you, ‘you got to see that in person. Why aren’t YOU running from ME?‘ ‘You’re not the only one who’s broken Bucky,‘ you tell him, trying hard not to raise your voice at him, ‘running doesn’t fix anything.‘ ‘So you’d rather befriend me and sit by my side every time I duck onto the concrete because a firework went off?‘ ‘Yes, yes I would. Because it won’t be like that forever.‘ ‘How do you know?‘ There’s venom in his voice. It’s clear to you that he never let anyone in after his accident. To make a point, you sit down on his couch, lifts your pant leg, and take off your leg, putting it on his coffee table. ‘You think this just happened out of nowhere? You think I’ve got a dad that’s not related to me because my life was all sunshine and happiness? No! I lost my dad to cancer and my mom in a car accident. Do you know what it’s like to see your mother bleed out in front of you?‘ Bucky is in shock. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. The living room feels so much bigger than it normally is. ‘I- I didn’t know.‘ You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and put your leg back on. ‘Bucky, I get that we’ve only known each other for a few days and I don’t expect you to open up to me but at least give me a chance to get to know you,‘ you ask him getting back on your feet, ‘because I honestly really like you.‘ He doesn’t say a word. He can’t. He just watches you walk towards the door. ‘Cow dance starts at eight tomorrow. I’m leaving at a quarter to eight with the kids. If you want to join, you know where to find me.‘

7:30 am Saturday. Bucky sits on the couch in his living room sipping on a cup of coffee. He stares at the white, wooden coffee table that used to be perfectly white. Now, there’s a deep scratch on it made by Y/n’s leg. Yesterday, he had felt a bit pissed off by the scratch but today is different. That scratch tells a story and he should see it as a reminder to be better. Today is just the first day of trying but trying started well. He did have nightmares but at least he woke up on time. At least he had breakfast. At least dressing himself went without a hitch. Outside he hears kids happily playing in the street. He should go outside. His coffee is cold anyway. He puts his coffee cup in the sink and heads outside, grabbing his leather jacket as he steps through the door. There are about ten children and a few parents, as well as Steve and Peggy who are sitting on their porch as per usual. He sees you sit on the grass with two or three children. ‘Good morning Bucky,’ Steve calls over to him, ‘you decided to join us?’ Bucky walks over to the two. ‘Yeah, thought it’d be the right move,’ he tells the two, leaning against their fencing. ‘How are you doing?’ ‘Not great,’ he admits, ‘but Y/n convinced me to come.’ Peggy grins. ‘That’s nice,’ she says, ‘well you better hurry up and join her. The kids are bugging her to go earlier.’ Bucky nods to them as a means of saying bye and walks to the next house where you are sitting in the grass. ‘Good morning.’ You look up at him and smile brightly. ‘Good morning.’ He sits down next to you, looking at the book in your hands. It’s a children’s book with colorful pictures. There are two children sitting with you in the grass while the others are running around. ‘Who are we waiting for?’ The door to the house behind you opens and out walk Tony, Peter, and a woman that Bucky does not recognize. ‘We’re waiting for them,’ you smile and get on your feet. Bucky follows. ‘Pepper, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Pepper. My dad’s girlfriend.’ ‘Nice to meet you miss,’ Bucky says with a smile and shakes her hand. ‘Nice to meet you too Bucky.’ The woman has a warm smile and a powerful look about her. ‘Morgan, you ready?’ The girl who was sitting next to Y/n gets up with the biggest smile and takes Pepper’s hand. ‘Everyone, grab your buddy, we’re leaving,’ you shout at the children on the street. Morgan grabs your hand and pulls it slightly. ‘What’s up Morgan?’ ‘Who is Peter’s buddy?’ Peter sees the interaction and walks over. ‘Morgan, do you want to be my buddy? Tony can be your mom’s buddy,’ Peter tells the girl. ‘But you’re always Thalia’s buddy,’ Morgan frowns. ‘I can be Y/n’s buddy,’ Bucky offers, ‘if that’s okay with you.’ Morgan looks Bucky up and down. He had never imagined he could feel so judged by a child. ‘You’ll do.’ Morgan grabs Peter’s hand and pulls him with her. Bucky and you stare at each other with your jaws on the floor. It takes a few seconds before you burst into laughter. ‘She is opinionated.’ You laugh and takes Bucky’s hand. You turn to the kids and holds up your hands. ‘Everyone ready?’ The group yells yes. ‘Everyone follow Peter and Morgan. Bucky and me will walk in the back.’ Slowly but surely, the group starts moving. The parents mostly stay with their children so it doesn’t take long for Bucky and you to fall behind. ‘I honestly thought you wouldn’t come,’ you admit to him, ‘but I’m glad you did.’ Bucky can’t keep the smile from his face. ‘Me too.’ Without really realizing it, his thumb starts to gently stroke the back of your hand. ‘Can you promise me that you’ll try to talk to me or Steve when something like this happens again?’ ‘Do you believe me if I say that I’ll try?’ You look up at him, meeting his eyes. There’s this hurt in them but there’s something else. You don’t quite know what it is but you know he means it. ‘I do,’ you smile at him. ‘Then I’ll try. And I do apologize for shutting you out. I shouldn’t have done that.’ ‘I’ll only accept your apology if you show me your art.’ You do a little skip in front of him to stop him from walking while You’re still holding hands. ‘Yes ma’am,’ he says with a smile. He watches as this devilish grin appears on your face. He doesn’t know what is about to come but he does know that it’ll leave him with more sinfull thoughts infesting his mind. ‘Good boy.’ You press a chaste kiss to his cheek and continue to drag him back in line with the children. His mouth falls open as he tags along. What are you doing with his head?

The group gets to the field and dispurses. Children that came with their parents go with them, children that came alone stay with you. The kids climb onto the wooden fences and lean over, chatting excitedly with each other. ‘So what can I expect,’ Bucky asks you. ‘Cows.’ You give Bucky a cocky look. ‘Cows acting crazy.’ ‘Y/n! Bucky!’ You turn around and see the group from the bar coming up to them. Hugs and handshakes are exchanged, as well as greetings and friendly words about everyone’s appearance. ‘Bucky, I haven’t seen you around in a minute,’ Sam cheers at Bucky, giving him a tight hug that Bucky did not expect. ‘Ah, you know,’ Bucky smiles, patting Sam’s shoulder, ‘I don’t have a job so I don’t go out much.’ ‘Let me know if you need something to do,’ Sam tells him, ‘I work down at the town hall. We always have things to do.’ Bucky shoots a quick glance at you. ‘I might come around,’ Bucky tells him. ‘Good, good, we’ll see you two at Crocker’s Folly after this, right?’ ‘Yeah, of course.’ You smiles at him. ‘Just gotta get the kids back.’ ‘For sure, you need help?’ ‘Nah, I’ve got Peter and I’m sure I can guilt Bucky into helping.’ ‘Excuse me?’ Bucky stands next to you and Sam but he’s getting completely ignored by both. ‘I’m sure you can. I’m just glad you’ve got a new target,’ Sam says to her but his eyes are on Bucky, ‘ey Bucknasty, you good with kids?’ It feels like a stab in his heart for a second. This is not the moment. ‘Y-yeah, I’m fine,’ he meekly smiles. You notice right away. ‘Sam, could you watch the kids for a second, I think I lost my keys on the way here,’ you lie to Sam and drag Bucky away from the group, just behind a bush she stops. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘I will be,’ ‘Bucky takes a deep breath, ‘just not now.’ You nod and take his hand in yours again. ‘Just not now,’ you agrees, ‘let me know when you’re ready to go back.’ Touching your hand feels like heaven. It takes a lot of the stress away. It keeps him grounded. The cheering of the children gets louder. ‘We should get back.’ ‘We should,’ you repeat with childlike excitement. You, once again, drag him along. He follows you, feeling a kind of rush. For a second, he feels like a teenager following his crush to somewhere secret. It’s exciting and new. You stand behind the children as the cows start running outside. They buck, sprint, play. It’s a truly wonderful display of fun. It’s almost as if they’re playing games. Playing tag, hide and seek, duck duck goose. It’s exhilarating and exciting. It’s like seeing hope in front of you. Like the winter snow is melting away under the golden sun. Bucky understands while the whole village comes to watch. He understands why you have never missed a year of seeing this. He understands why even the ones who don’t seem to care for it show up. Faith has brought him here, has brought him you. Now it’s up to him to take this chance and make the change. Time for him to look at the brighter side of life, as hard as that might be. And as you start leaning against him, he feels at peace for the first time in months. His arm drapes over your shoulder and you put your arms around his waist. He smiles. Yes, this is fine.

Tag list: @nickkie1129 @healy-facedown

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tanyawritesstories · 4 years ago

Text

Seeing Red | The Bad Batch x Reader

I told myself I could never write for the Bad Batch because I wasn't a huge fan of them (except Tech because he's babie) but I got inspired by @clonesandmoans post about how they would react to a reader on her period. Creativity struck! Hence this fic.

I would like to thank @vesperstalksclones for informing me on how birth control works because I'm 20 and still don't know how to adult. Anyway enjoy!

Warnings: Blood, mood swings, cravings, concerned bois, and plenty of fluff!

•••

You hummed whatever tune came into your head as you cleaned up around the Havoc Marauder. The boys were out on a mission and had claimed they didn’t need your help and you could just stay with the ship if you wished. You took them up on the offer and had spent the past several hours that they were gone doing any and every little thing you could to stave off boredom. Luckily, there was a whole list of things to do. You had already dusted the entire interior of the ship, cleaned every control panel, updated half the systems with their newest settings, polished up your own tools and weapons, and was now scrubbing oil stains off the hull.

You decided on listening to music instead of trying to come up with a melody yourself. You turned the radio on inside the ship and turned it loud enough so you could hear it outside. It was a pleasant planet you had landed on, green grass as far as the eye could see, lots of hills but a limited amount of trees. There hadn’t been a speck of bad weather since you landed, yesterday morning. It was all blue skies and sun with the occasional cloud passing by. It was peaceful on this plateau and there had been no signs of danger so you thought it was ok to let your guard down for a little.

Another hour had passed and you were still giving the exterior of the ship a thorough cleaning. You were so into your work that you let out a scream when you felt a finger jab you in the side.

“Oh my stars! You asshole!” You turned and threw your sponge at the origin of your teasing. Crosshair easily batted away the sponge before it even got close to hitting him. He was sporting a cocky smirk and his precious sniper rifle slung over one shoulder.

"Never let your guard down, Y/N," he said, his tone as cocky as his expression. You rolled your eyes and retrieved the sponge, glaring in only slight annoyance as he walked onboard the ship. Wrecker trudged aboard after him and you called a warning that you just cleaned everything. Hunter and Tech gave you polite smirks as they followed suit.

You made dinner while the boys finished their reports and other post-mission duties. You had started a fire and was stirring a pot of stew over the open flames. You tasted it a final time before shouting out to the boys that dinner was ready. As usual they came barreling out of the ship to gather around the fire. Wrecker was the first to dig in, as always, the other three waiting for you to hand them their respective bowls.

“This is so good! I don’t know how you do it, Y/N but you always make the best food,” Wrecker praised.

“Thank you, Wrecker. I appreciate it,” you said with a smile.

Hunter stood next to you, waiting for you to hand him his food when he noticed something was off about you. You smelled different. It wasn’t anything creepy, with his heightened senses he knew how you always smelled, usually it was lavender and honeysuckle. But this scent was far from that, your pheromones were strange and he swore he could almost smell blood. It wasn’t something he’d ever smelled before. He stared at you trying to figure it out.

“Hunter, you ok?” You asked. He was staring at you with a confused and worried look on his face. “Yeah, yeah I think so,” he replied. You handed him his bowl and he silently went to sit down. You found it odd but didn’t mention it as you sat and ate your own food with them.

The next day the boys were going out on a short scouting mission, leaving you behind as usual. You did a few chores and decided to take a nap, retreating to your bunk and laying on top of the covers.

It was a few hours before they came back, discussing their observations as they made their way on board. The second he entered the ship the stench of blood hit Hunter like a punch in the nose, causing him to cough. The others looked at him.

“There’s a lot of blood spilled somewhere in here,” he voiced. The four of them looked between each other.

“Where’s Y/N?”

They all hurried to your quarters, the door sliding open, revealing a horrific sight. You laid peacefully on your bunk, sound asleep, unaware that you were laying in a large pool of blood.

The four men observed the scene before them and it was Wrecker that broke the silence. “Is she dead?”

“No,” Hunter answered, he could hear your heartbeat. He kneeled by the side of your bed trying to find an injury. “She’s asleep, but why is she bleeding?” Tech joined Hunter at your bedside trying to deduce what was wrong. “Who hurt her?” Crosshair asked, he looked angry. “I’m not so certain anyone did,” Tech stated. “Then how is she bleeding if she’s not injured?” Wrecker asked, clearly concerned.

Their chatter stirred you from your slumber and you opened your eyes, rubbing the sleep away from them. “What’s going on guys?” You opened your eyes fully to find all four of them staring at you with mixed expressions, concern, confusion, and sympathy. “What’s wrong?” you asked, also confused.

“You tell us,” Crosshair spoke first, “What happened here? Who attacked you?” Your eyebrows scrunched up. “No one attacked me. I'm completely fine,” you answered. “Then how come you’re bleeding?” Hunter prodded. “I’m not bleed-“ you cut yourself off as you realized what might be happening. You quickly sat up and saw that your suspicions were true, your period had come while you were sleeping and you were covered in blood. You put your head in your hands and groaned.

You had hoped this wouldn’t happen. You had been on birth control shots ever since you joined the Bad Batch ten months ago. You normally would be on Coruscant between missions which allowed you to get your shots on time. However this mission was taking longer than normal and your shot was overdue. What’s worse was now you had four worried and confused men to explain the whole thing to.

“I’m fine, this is normal,” you sighed, still holding your head in your hands. “How is this normal?” You heard Crosshair ask, someone shushing him seconds after. “My-ugh, I got my period,” you finally said. You didn’t want to look at them and instead just listened to the silence as they tried to understand what you had said. You really didn’t want to explain it to them, what you wanted was to change out of your bloody clothes.

“Look it up on the holonet, I’m going to change. I’ll clean the sheets when I get back.” You got up and gathered some clean clothes and headed to the refresher. You were lucky that you had an emergency stash of pads just in case something like this happened. You cleaned yourself of blood and put on clean, comfy clothes, throwing your bloodstained clothes and the sheets in a bucket of water to soak. You exited your quarters to find Tech reading aloud off the holonet about how periods work. It made you chuckle and warmed your heart that they cared about you enough to enlighten themselves on your condition. Tech finished reading and they all seemed to notice your presence at the same time.

“So you just bleed every month?” Crosshair again. You nodded. “How come this is the first time it’s happened?” Hunter questioned. “I was being given shots to prevent it but we haven't been on Coruscant for me to get them,” you explained. You saw the gears in their minds working as they processed the information.

"Is it painful?" Wrecker asked.

"Yes, it isn't at the moment but it will be. Sometimes it can get excruciating and sometimes it's just a few sharp pains," you explained. You were glad that at least they were accepting, they didn't seem weirded out and just acted like they wanted to help.

You continued your chores until the cramps kicked in, and they were bad. Hunter decided they would make dinner since you weren't feeling good. You gave them a list and sent them to the nearest market, Tech stayed behind to keep you company and get you anything you might need. He had already gotten you painkillers, the strongest they had but the pain persisted.

You groaned in pain and rolled over, curling yourself into a fetal position on your bed, which Tech had generously put new sheets on. You clutched your abdomen, "Tech!" You heard footsteps rapidly approaching your door before it slid open.

"Do you need something, Y/N?" He asked.

"Do we have a heating pad, that would really help."

"I'll go look," he smiled and hurried away. You could hear him looking through storage containers and cabinets, a few things could be heard falling on the floor. He reappeared at your door with a heating pad in his hands. “Found it.” He sat on the bed and set it up for you, making sure it heated up to a comfortable temperature.

“Is that helping?” He asked sweetly. You hummed appreciatively, “yes, thank you so much, Tech. You’re the best.”

“You say that to all of us,” he said. You giggled, you were feeling more comfortable, but lonely, you wanted cuddles. You wrapped your arms around Tech’s middle and pulled him down to lay beside you, facing each other. He made a few confused noises and asked what you were doing.

“I want cuddles,” You said, hugging him close to you. He sighed, slightly uncomfortable with the situation. “Alright, but only because it’s you." He wormed his arms around your back and gently pulled you close to him, beginning to massage your back. Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker came back to find you and Tech asleep in each other’s arms.

A couple days had passed and your cramps had subsided enough to do your normal work but there were all the other classic period care package items you had to deal with. At the moment you were craving the food Wrecker went out to grab. You had been wanting it all day and literally jumped for joy when Wrecker said he'd be happy to get some for you.

You were sitting in your bed reading when you heard Wrecker come back. He talked with the rest of the boys, giving them their meals before coming to your room, holding two plates of food in his hands. “Can I sit and eat with you?” He asked, smiling. You closed your book and set it aside. “Of course, Wrecker. Thank you so much for getting me this, I’ve been craving it all day.”

He plopped down next to you and handed you the plate, your mouth watering just looking at it. You hastily shoved forkfuls into your mouth, getting overwhelmed with how good it was. You’d wanted this all day and Wrecker was nice enough to go out and get it for you, especially for you, it was so sweet of him. Your thoughts along with the food were just making you happy, so much so that you started happy crying right then and there. Poor Wrecker didn’t know that you were crying happily and immediately got concerned as tears poured down your face.

“Y/N are you ok? What’s wrong?”

At the sound of your sobbing Hunter, Cross, and Tech came running to your room, finding you bawling and Wrecker sitting next to you. “What did you say to her?” Crosshair half shouted. He sat down on the other side of you and pulled your sobbing form tight to him, protectively putting his arms around you. “I didn’t say anything,” Wrecker replied, confused. “Yeah right,” Cross rolled his eyes at his brother, “She’s in tears, what did you do!”

You had noticed the boys attitudes change a little since you started bleeding, Wrecker was more sweet and gentle around you, Tech was more nit picky, Cross was more protective, and Hunter was more observant.

Hunter and Tech were just as confused as they watched Crosshair and Wrecker argue. Tech stepped in and also tried comforting you, who at this point was crying laughing at the situation but they still couldn’t discern that. Hunter asked Wrecker what happened and you finally managed to stop crying. Crosshair still had his arms around you holding you to his chest tight but not crushing you.

“Cross, you can let me go,” You managed to say. “Not until I know you’re ok.” You sighed, “I am ok, I just got excited and happy, that’s all.” He released you enough to look down at your face. “You were crying because you were happy?” He struggled to understand. “Yes, my hormones are going nuts right now, and it was just so sweet of Wrecker to bring me food,” you explained more tears slipping out of your eyes. Tech smiled sympathetically and Wrecker looked relieved. “I don’t get this,” Cross breathed. “Neither do I,” you agreed, hugging him back.

#star wars the clone wars #the bad batch #sergeant hunter #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech #clone trooper crosshair

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bichlordstories · 4 years ago

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9: old advice

You walked down the hallway of your middle school, eyes staring you down in fear and disgust.

Some jeers were sent your way, but nobody dared to go near you.

Unlike the brainwashing kid a group of kids bullied, you didn’t use words. The last time someone started something with you, you ended it faster.

“Oi, duck tape his mouth!”

You paused near the entrance of a classroom. It wasn’t yours, and you didn’t know why you stopped, but you did anyway.

“Can’t use your evil quirk if you can’t ask questions, can you, villain???” A voice behind the door taunted.

“Hold him down.” Another voice said.

This wasn’t your problem. Whatever they were going to do to this mysterious kid, it wasn’t your business.

“Huh? Who’s there?”

You stood inside the classroom, staring blankly into the widened eyes of some middle school boys. One of them had the target pinned to a desk, hold down his hand and holding a pen.

“Fuck, it’s that All Might wannabe!” One of the goons exclaimed and released the lavender haired teen.

“Oh? Does the evil All Might doppelgänger want to save this freak?” The leader of the group forced the head of the teen down by gripping his lavender hair.

The boy beneath him grunted in pain, nose bleeding and mouth covered by tape. His eyes were puffy from the bruises and from the tears in his eyes.

A truly pathetic sight to behold.

“Tokoro-kun, don’t provoke them, they’re crazy as hell.” The sensible one of the group grabbed the leader’s shoulder.

“We have our quirks, don’t we? We can just-“

Something yellow and sharp stabbed him in the arm, earning a yelp of surprise from the kid. Before he could scream some more, a hand shot out and gripped his cheeks, covering his mouth.

You got between his legs and forced his back onto the desk behind him. You gripped the pencil lodged into his shoulder and twisted it deeper and deeper.

By now, the whites of your eyes were a deep shade of red, leaving your (e/c) irises untouched by the crimson.

“Challenge me again, and it will be your eye.” You said before pulling the pencil out of the boy, who laid back on the table in shock.

You gave the boys enough space to leave, one of them grabbing their injured friend and left. You turned to the lavender haired kid only to find him sitting on the floor with his knees.

He barely struggled as you pulled him up and ripped the tape off of the boy. Since his nose was filled with blood, he breathed through his mouth, spitting out bloody mucus.

“You’re an idiot for staying behind.” You stated after recognizing the teen as Hitoshi, the brainwash kid.

He sat in the chair weakly, wiping his bloody nose and staring forward through bruised eye lids.

“...I didn’t ask for this...” he muttered under his breathe.

“Okay? And you not asking for it is going to stop it? You need to stop mopping around and adapt.”

“It’s not that simple-“

“It is. Finding the solution is easier when you not sitting on your ass and letting this happen. I see you make the same mistake every damn day. Today, those assholes beat you to a pulp because they got you alone. You don’t even try.” You scowled at the teen.

The boy glared at you with a trembling lip.

“Then how would you do it? You can defend yourself, I can’t.” He said as tears rolled down his face.

“You have a quirk. Use it.”

“I ca-“

“Work smart, not hard. You don’t use it to brute force your way through. That’s not how your quirk works. It involves using your head and your words.” You said before walking towards the the door.

Once exiting, you were met with an empty hallway. Everyone seemed to have went home, leaving just you and the lavender haired kid, but you knew that word would get around about what you did.

And you were right.

Nobody dared to say anything in front of you, opting to just whisper behind your back. The brainwash kid was hidden among the crowd, no longer taunted but instead ignored.

The two of you never really spoke to each other after the first time, only coming across each other in the hallways.

Sometimes you wonder if what you said was too harsh, but then again, he didn’t put any effort into defending himself.

Someone like him was bound to lose in the game of life.

This felt eerily familiar, walking down the hallway. Nobody acknowledged you, hanging out in their respective groups early in the morning. You didn’t see any of your classmates amongst the crowd much to your relief, but you are bound to see them in class.

After losing control of yourself in training exercise yesterday, you were stuck in Recovery girl’s room recovering from the overuse of your quirk. Obviously, this meant that you couldn’t return to class that day, seeing that you passed out and attacked your teacher.

Surprisingly, you didn’t get kicked out of school, which you were grateful for.

But you now had unwanted attention.

You knew that your high school will be just like middle school after yesterday, but you just had to deal with it.

You stopped in front of your classroom door and clenched the straps from your backpack.

A few kids passed by, talking to each other, so you didn’t really notice a pair of shoes walking towards you. When they stopped beside you, you moved away, believing it to be the teacher or one of your classmates.

It was neither.

Instead, it was the brainwashing kid, Shinsou Hitoshi.

He stood next to you, staring up at the letter B.

“So this is your class. You got into the hero course...” he huffed out a bit of air before continuing.

“I’m not surprised, since you are the best in your class, and word got around to everyone that you beat up a teacher yesterday.”

Your stomach dropped.

“...everyone?”

“Yeah, the General Ed class wouldn’t shut up about it. You became a celebrity over night here.” Shinsou said while staring at the same door you were.

Rumors.

That’s how it always started.

Technically, what you did happened, but people liked to exaggerate and blow it out of proportion.

But you attacked someone outside of training.

You had a serious problem.

“...I can’t fucking do this again...”

Shinsou turned his head to you.

“I can’t be the evil All Might wannabe... I’m tired of being compared to someone else, someone great, only to be called a villain when I don’t act like that person...” you bit your lip as your face darkened at the memories.

Shinsou continued to stare before reaching up to rub the back of his head.

“...adapt to it.”

He turned away from you and slowly blinked at the door.

“Don’t brute force your way through it. Work smart, not hard. Try to prove to yourself that your not a villain without punching someone.” He said before walking away, leaving you to stand in front of the door.

You gripped the door, taking a deep breathe, before slowly opening it. The voices inside the class continued, only dying down a bit when you passed the desks towards your own.

“(L/n)-kun!”

You froze at the sound of a cheerful voice before getting engulfed in a hug from behind.

“I was soooo worried! You were gone the rest of the day yesterday! Are you okay?” Pony asked before hugging your stiff arm.

“E-Eh?” You breathed out in confusion.

“Dude, we thought you completely lost it!” The cheeky brown haired kid, Tsuburaba, exclaimed.

Soon, you found yourself surrounded by your classmates.

“We already knew you were a beast in combat, but you had 2 teachers struggling to hold you down!” Honenuki said.

“Not just teachers, Juzo-kun, heroes.” Kurorio smirked to the toothy teen.

“One of them was All Might!”

You were getting compliments left and right, confusing you to no end. You just stood there frozen, unable to form words.

“I gotta say, I’m impressed.”

You turned your head to look at Monoma, who had a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You’ve proven that you’re one of the stronger people fit for combat, even more so yesterday.”

He walked over to you, brushing his blonde hair away with a flick of his wrist.

“Class 1A so far doesn’t have anything impressive on display, but you fought a hero with ease. All Might himself struggled to hold you down, and that’s saying something.”

He stopped in front of you, grinning ear to ear. It was a chilling smile, something that was anything but innocent.

“With you, class 1A will be no more...” he said in a giddy tone.

The teens around you grimaced at this, some even backing away.

“Jeez, can you chill the fuck out?” The guy with the headband, Awase, snapped at the blonde as he was put off by the creepy factor.

Luckily for everyone in the class, Kendo walked up from behind him and chopped him on the neck, making the sadistic blonde collapse. She plucked him off the ground by the scruff of his shirt and smiled to you apologetically.

“I’m so so sorry, (L/n)-san, he’s just relieved to see you back, that’s all.” She said.

“W-W-Why would you tell them t-that?” Monoma stuttered while looking up at her with a pale face.

“...uh.” You said.

“Ooooooohhhh, someone’s in loooooove~” Kuroiro teased, earning a few chuckles from Honenuki and Kosei.

“Eh? Who’s in love???” Tokage asked with interest.

“I’m not in love, d-damn it!!!”

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

He’s not in love guys.

Not yet.

Buuuuut anyways, I wanted to kinda have Mc interact with Shinsou, involving a bit of their past, the whole shebang.

As you can tell, those two aren’t exactly friends, but they aren’t enemies either.

They got some ✨history✨

#bnha fanfiction #bnha x y/n #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #blood sport

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moskaisley · 5 years ago

Text

migraine pt. 5 | relief

gif cred: @coredrive

rating: mature

word count: 4k platinum hi def TV

warnings: angst but also some comfort bc everyone is in their feelings, violence, descriptions of fighting and blood, mentions of death

a/n:

me: yea i’ll post by 8pm!!! also me @ midnight:

i got slammed with some work from my job last minute so thats why she’s a couple hours late!! such is the life of a freelancer but thank u all for being patient anyway hehe. anyways!! i’ve had a LOT of ideas for side stories lately and i’m thinking of posting them in between the main parts of migraine so maybe look out for that???

and thank u all for your kind words on part 4!!! ily all and i hope u enjoy this one. alexa play in my feelings by drake 🥺🥺🥺

summary:

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

Where you find the strength to feel it all at once.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

“I’m going on ahead.”

“Well, I’m not coming with you.”

He scrunches his nose, nostrils flaring. You refuse to look him in the eye.

“Seriously?”

You pick at the threads in the thin blanket on your legs with your nails. He’s fully dressed, standing in the doorway of your tiny dwelling. You’re still in your cot, your last chance to flee with him slipping away with every string you pull. But fear claws at your insides, paralyzing you in your spot. You hear him shuffle, kneeling beside the bed and forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Please, help me stop them,” he pleads.

Your lip quivers, tears threatening to spill over. He’s such a beautiful boy. You loved and loathed his courage; Luca was always braver than you were, fighting off bullies in the schoolyard and sneaking out after dark. He was the first one to defy the Moff when he showed up at your doorstep, and he was the quickest to arm when they came blasters ablazing. But while Luca had moved forward ready to enact his revenge, you were still stuck in front of your burning home, heat blistering against your skin and pathetic tears streaming down your face. You’re still frozen at the other end of a blaster, cowering on your knees before a man clad in black. You’re still being ushered away down the country road with your brother, two very distinct shots ringing through your ears.

But Luca doesn’t understand.

“We’ll die, just like them.”

“Don’t you want to die fighting?”

You tear a hole in your blanket.

“I don’t want to die at all, Luca.”

You haven’t spoken to him in days.

It was quite impressive, really.

Ever since your breakdown, you denied yourself any sort of contact with the Mandalorian, bitterness and hurt still raw every time you looked at him. At first, he tried to get you to respond to him, prodding with simple questions and painfully awkward small talk. But when his one-sided conversations were only met with more eerie silence, Mando took the hint and stopped trying altogether. You didn’t spend too long in the same space with him either; you made sure to work on opposite sides of the ship. Shifts were still maintained at night to watch over your camp while the other slept; but when it was his turn to take over, you only woke him with a wordless shove and quickly slipped into your bunk to get your share of rest.

Sleep never came.

Instead, you aimlessly tossed on the mattress for hours and hours on end, mind torn over the man standing outside your door. You loathed him, you were sure of it. He hurt you, more than anyone ever had. Took everything and crushed it beneath his boots. Then had the audacity to come back and ask for a favor. It was time to just let it all go; to push it far behind you and go on forward with your heart guarded and barred from the rest of the universe. To live and die alone.

So why was the thought of never seeing him again making your chest tighten with agony?

You dug your face into your pillow a few times, letting out guttural, violent screams of frustration until your voice nearly gave out.

You should be angry with him. He left, he left, he left.

Just like Luca.

In those solitary hours, you thought a lot about your brother, and how painfully similar this all felt: The resentment that festered in your bones clashing with the deep love and care that resided in your heart. You didn’t want to forgive, but living with these thorns in your side was so fucking exhausting. You wondered if the universe doomed you from birth, never destined for a moment of peace. The warring feelings within you made it impossible to sleep easy, and soon enough, the sun would come up. Mando would be outside rapping on your door and you’d start the day over again. Rinse and repeat.

By the fourth day, the lack of sleep had caught up to you.

Precariously perched on top of a ladder, you took the day to work on the repulsor grilles. Your mind was in a daze. You struggled to figure out which parts go where, and your hands were so clumsy you kept losing your tools to the small slot you’d been tinkering with. After dropping your screwdriver for what seemed to be the seventh time today, you were so fed up that any caution was thrown into the wind. Hot metal and active wires were the least of your worries as you carelessly shoved your hand down the slot for your lost tool. Your fingers grazed the handle, but as you shifted to get a better angle, you felt a burning shock shoot through your arm. You all but ripped your hand from the slot, wincing as you feel something tear at your palm. Your sudden movement was enough to drive the ladder toppling over. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for impact. You hear a low grunt as your body collides into Mando’s, strong arms quickly wrapping around your waist to steady you. Your cheeks grow hot at the feeling of him, and for a moment, your body pleads to stay in his arms just a little longer.

“Are you okay?” the low timbre of his voice brings you back from your panic.

You quickly push off of him but hiss at the searing pain radiating from your hand. Turning over your palm, you grimace at the big nasty gash that gushes down your forearm with blood. Mando grips your shoulder and spins you around, trying to take your injured hand.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

You recoil, holding your palm close to your chest and bleeding all over your shirt. Impatient, he goes in to grasp your wrist and wrestles with you again.

“Will you quit being difficult and hold still?” he growls, voice devoid of any softness. The edge in his voice makes you freeze. It’s the first time on this journey that he spoke so firmly with you. Too tired to fight, you let him take your hand into his and study your injury.

“Sit,” He lets go of your hand and gestures to the ground. “You’re going to need stitches. And then you’re going to rest. I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” you grit.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he chided harshly, as if lecturing a child, “I don’t need someone wrecking my ship more than it already has. You can work when you’re capable.”

He briskly storms back into the ship to grab the medpack, effectively ending your spat. Collapsing to the ground, you curse under your breath in irritation as you stare at your stinging cut. A piercing ache begins to radiate in your temples and weariness starts to settle into your bones. You’re so tired. The emotional turmoil of the past week had sucked every drop of energy you had left, and you were left feeling like you’d been hit with a landspeeder.

A worried coo draws you from your thoughts, and the child looks up at you expectantly.

“Hey, little guy,” you said, patting his head lightly with your free hand. He gingerly toddles to your thigh and tilts his head at your bloody palm. The kid begins to fuss, gurgling as he claws at the side of your leg. You scoop him up into your lap, and he settles down, satisfied.

“What’s going on, kiddo?”

Then, he closes his eyes and holds his hand out, hovering over yours. You feel the flesh on your wound begin to move. Your gash is closing before your eyes and the skin is completely healed, as if it was never there at all. You pressed your fingers into your palm; the burning pain had subsided and the skin beneath it was completely smooth. Brows furrowed, your eyes dart from your hand to the child, his eyes slowly drooping closed. Your mind is racing. You hear Mando shuffle back out from the Crest, quickly dropping beside you and checking your hand.

You’re both stunned to silence as the child in your lap falls fast asleep.

Early mornings in the forest were cold.

You’d been shivering in front of the fire for a few hours now, wrapped in a threadbare blanket you’d taken from your bed. You stared pensively at your palm, gently tracing your fingers over where a cut should’ve been. With a sigh, you hug your legs to your chest, and rest your forehead on your knees. After the child healed your injury, you thought your shock would’ve kept you from getting rest, but you slipped into sleep the second your head hit your pillow. You woke up later in the middle of the night, insisting to trade shifts with Mando.

“I doubt you want a repeat of yesterday,” you told him, “Go to bed.”

In all honesty, you needed the early hours of dawn to collect yourself as your mind was all over the place. Between the mysterious child, your clashing feelings for your partner and your impulsive career change, your life had seemed to unravel in the span of a week. You thought of the way he spoke to you the day before; he was quick to care for you, but his voice was emotionless and cold. It sounded very similar when he left all those years ago. You know he only means to keep distance between you and respect your wishes. After all, you were the one who wanted to separate for good after this mission, but the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you could only come to a single conclusion: the Mandalorian had successfully derailed your life yet again.

The cry of an animal pulls you from your brooding and you’re swift on your feet with a vibroblade in hand. Stalking around the trees, you keep low in the foliage and slowly move towards the source of the noise. You see a fathier standing on the main trail hooked to a lopsided wooden wagon. Fruit and vegetables were spread all around the road along with a broken wheel. An old man rounded the corner, looking tiredly around him and began picking up the mess. The grip on your blade relaxes. Standing to your full height, you walk forward to meet him on the main path.

“Excuse me, sir,” you call to him, “Do you need help?”

He gawks at you, obviously not expecting anyone to be in the forest. He gives you a smile.

“That is very kind of you. Thank you, child.”

You learn that his name is Amir. He’s a farmer with fields down the road, and for the past 50 years, he’d make the trip every weekend into town to sell his harvest on the same wagon. He tells you how the fathier lost control, pulling the old carriage and damaging the wheel.

“I suppose I must invest in those blasted speeder-whatevers,” he sighs.

You chuckle lightly. He sounds like your father.

“Please, let me fix it for you.”

Amir sits on a rock to the side of the trail, and you try your best to repair the wagon. Making light conversation with him as you work, you spoke of your own family’s orchard and recounted the times you spent on the farm. His company relaxes you and for a moment, you’re able to forget the chaos that consumed your thoughts earlier.

“It’s hard work, this life,” he says, “but it is fruitful all the same.”

You laugh earnestly at his joke. He smiles at you warmly, patting his hands on his knees.

“Where is your family now?”

“They were lost to the Empire. Our farm was burned down.”

He sighs sadly, “War seems to take from us both. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Please, don’t be. It happened a long time ago,” you say quickly.

A beat of awkward silence passes. Amir changes the subject.

“So what are you doing here? In these woods. You look less like a farm girl and more like a mercenary.”

“Close. I’m a bounty hunter. Our ship crashed just past those trees.”

“You’re with someone else?”

“Yes. A Mandalorian. He’s–” you pause, thinking carefully over your words, “He’s just an old colleague of mine.”

But Amir is a very observant man, and he notices your hesitation.

“Tell me more about this Mandalorian of yours. I’ve never met one before.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say sheepishly, “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“A long story?” He questions, mischief flashing in his eyes, “I thought he was just a colleague.”

Warmth travels to your cheeks as he looks at you expectantly.

Cheeky old bastard.

But you indulge him, giving him a watered-down version of your history with Mando; how you met, how you worked together for many years before you parted ways, and how he came back asking you to help with his weird magical son. Amir listened intently, and when you finished, his face was pulled in thought.

“It’s a bit odd for a bounty hunter to have a child, isn’t it?” He wonders aloud, “I take it isn’t the safest profession in the world. I could see how he could need the help.”

You chew on your bottom lip, attention focused on twisting a screw.

“We... didn’t split on the best terms. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

“I see.”

Amir notes your sudden change in demeanour, observing the way you tensed at the subject.

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

So you answered him honestly.

“I’m angry with him.”

He lets out a hearty laugh.

“My dear, you can be angry with someone and still love them.”

What a nosy man.

You shrug laughing lightly with him as you go back to work. As you mull over his words, you find them resonating deep within you. Had it been anyone else, you probably would’ve ignored or straight-up denied the question, but connecting with Amir had made you feel comfortable to speak freely. It felt cathartic to put your feelings into words.

“You know, Imperial soldiers occupied the town for many, many years. My daughter decided to join the rebellion after she joined the local militia. We got into a terrible argument, begged her not to fight, to stay home but–” Amir struggles to finish. You’d stopped your tinkering with the wheel, instead listening carefully to his story. Your heart twisted, as the grief he felt was very familiar. You reached out to hold his wrinkled hand, giving him a sad smile.

Amir takes a breath, looking wistfully towards the treetops as he continues,

“Sometimes, when people hurt us, we think we want nothing more to do with them. But when they’re gone, we only regret the love we never spoke out loud.”

Din thought he was dreaming when he woke up to the smell of cooking food.

When he left the Razor Crest, you were feeding the child a small bowl of sautéed vegetables and rice. To the side of the camp, he spotted bags of fresh produce and grain. You greet him with a relaxed grin.

“You know, some of the things you’ve kept in there haven’t been touched since we split. It was kind of disgusting.”

He’s so confused.

“Where did you get all of this?” He asks.

“There was a man who broke down on the side of the road. I helped fix his wagon and he gave us food in return.”

You pat the child’s head as he finishes up his meal and take him into one arm. Din only stares, bewildered, as you pick up a dish that was sitting by the fire pit and hold it out to him.

“Eat. And when you’re done, come find me,” you say, “We need to talk.”

“We need to talk.”

Words stronger than any weapon.

Anxiety churned in his stomach, nearly rendering him incapable of keeping any food down. But your cooking was leagues better than any ration pack that he’d had in weeks; Din wasn’t about to (literally) throw the opportunity away, especially if this was some of the last moments he’d ever have with you. He ate slowly, savoring every bite, heart warming at the way you made it especially spicy for him. From the window of the cockpit, Din watched you leisurely skip rocks across the water while the child excitedly wandered along the shore. It was almost unsettling how quickly your energy had changed within a day; it reminded him of the days before he left. The days where there wasn’t a giant rift between you.

When he finished his meal, Din rounded the corner of the ship expecting to see you at the shore, but you were nowhere to be found. He approached the edge of the water and stared at the abandoned pile of smooth stones. The next thing he knew, he was being roughly tugged by his arm and thrown flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, chest heaving for air and adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, you meandered into his view. He expected to see your face contorted with rage once again, but to his surprise, your expression was cool and collected as you pulled at the wraps around your hands.

“We’re gonna spar,” you say, tone suspiciously even, “And you’re gonna tell me everything about the kid.”

Din stares, bewildered as you tower over him.

“Why?”

You still don’t look at him directly, instead tugging tightly at the cloth against your wrist and checking if you’re satisfied with your work.

“If memory serves me correctly, we’re still evenly matched. 350 to 350,” you say, not even bothering to address the second part of your demands.

But Din will take whatever you give him at this point, so he complies and swipes at your ankles with his legs, knocking you down. Taking the opportunity to get back onto his feet, he squares himself into position. You propel yourself back to your feet with much more grace, brushing yourself off and bringing up your fists. Din swears he can see faint lines of a smile on your lips and a glint of excitement in your eyes.

“Don’t hold back. Even if I’m mad at you.”

He smirks.

“Never.”

You were always better at close combat than he was; the nature of your preferred weapon required so. But what Din lacked in skill, he made up for in stamina, and that’s why he was able to keep your little competition even for such a long time. Your fight had been going for nearly an hour, and at this point, you’d normally tire out and start getting sloppy from exhaustion. But your residual feelings of frustration and dream of kicking his ass for the past three years kept you fierce on your toes. It also helped that he had a story to tell.

You listened attentively as Mando told you of the Mudhorn in between your relentless assault of jabs and kicks, how the child used his strange powers to lift a giant beast and how it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He also told you how he actually delivered the kid to the client, but turned back to rescue him before the Imperials had a chance to do any harm. (You noted how his voice dipped slightly in shame admitting this to you.) He told you of Sorgan, Tatooine and his reunion with Ran, and how no matter what system he seemed to end up in, the child was always in danger. As you processed this information, your attention seemed to slip, and Mando was able to throw a punch straight into your nose.

You stumble backwards, cursing at the pain and feeling warm liquid pooling on your upper lip. He relents for a moment, pacing towards you in worry.

“Shit, I’m sorry–”

You cut him off by gripping his arm, using his momentum to drive him over your shoulder and throw him on his stomach. Pressing your boot into his back and pinning him firmly against the ground, you tease.

“Not the first time I had you like this, Mando.”

You keep your foot firm against him as he struggles to push himself up against you, heavy breaths crackling through the vocoder of his helmet. Eventually, he relents and holds up his hands in surrender.

Pride blooms warmly in your chest, and you collapse on the ground next to him.

I nearly broke one of his ribs this time. You’re dizzy as you come down from the high of adrenaline coursing through you, exhaustion settling into your sore body.

“If I sustain another injury on this stupid mission, I’m taking all the credits for myself,” you say, wiping the blood gushing from your nose.

You hear him chuckle lightly beside you.

“You deserve it. I’ve been a total ass.”

“That, you have.”

Catching your breath, you focus on the sounds of birds in the trees, and the feeling of wind cooling and relaxing your body. It was so tempting to just give into him, but you remembered what you called him here for– why you initiated a duel in the first place. The talk with Amir this morning helped clear your head, but it still terrified you to address it all.

You take a deep breath, basking a little longer in this moment of peace.

“Thanks for not holding back,” you said earnestly, pointing to your nose.

Standing up and brushing the dirt from your clothes, you turn to him and hold out a hand.

“Are we good?” he asks, hope slipping through his voice.

“No. Not even close,” your lips curl into a sad smile, “But it’s a start.”

You pull him up to his feet, and your grasp on one another lingers for a fleeting moment. You’re the first to let go, brushing your sweaty palms against your pants. Walking to the shore of the lake, you take a few rocks in your hands and continue skipping them across the still surface of the water. Your heart is racing; you feel his gaze on you, expectant for … something, anything.

“When my brother left to become a rebel,” you began, voice taught with anxiety, “I was only 18 years old. For a long time, I was so angry with him. Who leaves their only family behind? Alone? To fend for themselves? I was–I was convinced I didn’t care what happened to him after that. That I hated him. ”

Something painful catches in your throat. You skip another rock.

“We were so young. He wanted to take me with him, y’know? Find the Moff that killed our family and get revenge. Destroy the Empire and end their reign of terror. I was too afraid; all I could think about living to see another day. But after a while, I missed him so much–I just wanted my family again. I started to regret not going with him, but then I met you.”

Mando didn’t respond, listening carefully and hanging on your every word.

“And when you came along, it felt... nice to let someone in again. Not just as a coworker but as a friend. To not be alone. To have someone in my life. To– ”

To fall deeply, wholly, and beautifully in love.

Frustrated, you grip the smooth stone in your hand tightly. You feel like you’re rambling; there’s just so much.

Mando finally speaks, “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m still hurt and angry,” your voice was beginning to tremble, “That being abandoned for a second time was the worst feeling in the galaxy. I need you to know that.”

You hear him walk towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Mesh’la, please look at me,” he pleads.

“But I also need you to know that and I left things like this, I’d never find peace.”

You turn around to face him, tears in your eyes and heart leaping in your throat.

“Because there was a time where I thought I’d know you forever. And I don’t want to let it go.”

taglist

@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn @adlerorzel-blog @theocatkov @paryl @fruitsaladtree @allisondavis236

thx loves 💘

#migraine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #baby yoda #IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE LIKE 7AM DJSKLA;FDSFJK #LEO POST ON TIME CHALLENGE

138 notes · View notes

talpup · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Sorry about the late update. It was a super busy weekend, and my three big chronic illness bad's are still making me pay the price. Anyway, here you all go. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 96

It was near midnight. All the Captain's were tired, irritable, and on edge. They were meeting because Yami and Teris had never checked-in this evening when Jax had explicitly ordered his Vice Captain's to do so before lights out.

The Black Bulls Captain focused his glare on his fist which rested on the table as questions were asked, hypothesis given, and ideas about what to do were put forth. He blamed himself for Yami and Teris’ disappearance, certain that the Agents of Chaos had taken them.

Having reported to Greywright before this meeting was called, Jax had encouraged the Commander to question the supposed traitor Flic about Yami and Teris’ disappearance. But, Greywright had told him it would do no good. During his interrogation of Flic yesterday afternoon, Greywright had learned that the man knew nothing of the details concerning Alowishus’ plans. Jax would've liked some time alone with Flic anyway. Not to question the man; but simply to beat one of the Agents of Chaos, even if that person was no longer aligned with them.

“I question keeping up the search. Especially this late at night. We went out this morning looking for two Vice Captains and instead of finding them, we lost two more.” Jamie said.

“You sound scared.” Win taunted.

“I’m concerned for the safety of my squad. For all our squads.” Jamie said.

“We’re Magic Knights. We don’t abandon anyone, least of all our own.” Kess said, fiercely.

“I’m not saying we give up.” Jamie told, thinking Pyter would’ve understood if he were still Captain of the Silver Eagles.

“You’ve always been a selfish ass. I doubt you’d want to continue even if it was your own Vice Captain missing.” Mereoleona fumed.

“We don’t even know who took them or why. Blindly searching has done nothing but thinned our resources and wear our Magic Knights to exhaustion, and it’s only been a day.” Danise said.

Whilf nodded in agreement. “There has to a better way to go about this.”

“Better then searching for four Magic Knights Vice Captain’s?” Mereoleona stormed in challenge of the Purple Orcas Captain.

“No one’s saying that. But fumbling around hoping to stumble upon something isn’t working.” Breigha said.

Mereoleona could hardly argue with her friend. During her own futile search this afternoon she had wanted to torch the four kingdoms until whoever took her brother returned him, begging for mercy. She’d fry the fools and then pummel Fuegoleon for letting himself be taken.

“Do we even have an idea if they were taken because they’re all Magic Knights, or three of them royal?” Win asked.

“I’m guessing none of the families have received any word or demands?” Danise tendered. The Coral Peacocks Captain looked from Mereoleona to Julius. She glanced at Kess figuring as Nozel’s Captain she would've been in contact with Nathyn Silva or at least a representative from the royal house.

Julius rapped his knuckles on the tabletop with a silent curse. Just like last year, and two months ago during the Spade Kingdom mess, he had forgotten to send message to Fyntch about Teris being taken. When he had finally gotten around to writing Fyntch last year he hadn’t mentioned that Teris had been taken; simply saying he was sure Fyntch had seen the beam that lit up the sky the morning of the Summer Solstice and assuring him that he and Teris were okay. As for the happening with the Spade Kingdoms Magic Scientist Rayla, he hadn’t bothered sending Fyntch message and told Teris as much so she wouldn’t mention it to their brother.

Having met with Lord Leonidas himself and spoken with House Silva’s representative, Jorah said. “Neither the Silva’s or Vermillion’s have reported receiving demands or word of admission and intent.”

Jamie scoffed, thinking that the Silva’s and Vermillion’s were too proud to admit to it if they had. The two royal houses likely had their own people looking into things and would handle the matter privately if they came across anything.

Whilf looked at the Wizard Kings Advisor. “Has Magic Investigations unearthed anything of use?”

Ellara shook her head sadly at the Purple Orcas Captain. “My people have been out all day checking in with their sources and questioning people searching for some kind of lead. We haven’t given up. But as yet, they have discovered nothing that would tell us who took the Vice Captain's or why.” She looked at Julius, Mereoleona, Jax, and Kess. “I’m sorry.”

Julius and Jax stared at the Wizard Kings Advisor, both thinking Ellara was far from sorry but would be.

96.2

Yami noticed how Calen stuck close by them as he and Teris were made to walk through the portal. Given that Teris had once broken through Calen’s negating magic the first time she had light traveled, it was justifiable that they were concerned.

“Leon! Nozel!” Teris rushed forward only to be grabbed by a cloaked figure.

Yami punched the Agent of Chaos not seeing or caring if the person was a man or woman. He pulled Teris out of their grasp, holding her to him.

“Peace, Livia.” Calen told the woman as Alowishus stepped through the gateway.

Livia stood down and tenderly touched her face.

Hands bound above his head, hanging from a tree branch, Fuegoleon’s eyes blinked slowly open.

Tied and swaying beside the Crimson Lion, Nozel croaked, barely able to lift his head. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice.” Yami said, looking them over.

Nozel took in a slow, shallow, shuddering breath; grimacing at the pain the small movement brought.

Teris tried once more to step to them, but Yami held her firm least someone attempt to stop her again.

Teris trembled in Yami’s arms, a fearful rage building. Nozel and Fuegoleon were alive but they were a battered, bloody mess. And that was only the injuries she could see. They had been in the Agents of Chaos’ custody for little more than twenty-four hours. Who knew what those monsters had done to them.

One eye swollen shut. The other, vision tinted red by blood. Nozel told Yami. “First chance you get, you get her out of here.”

Teris shook her head, angry worried tears blurring her sight. Though she had no idea how they were going to manage it, she promised Nozel and Fuegoleon. “No matter what it takes. We’re going to get you out of this.”

“I’m glad you said that; because you hold the way to freedom for your Intended and your cousin. The path to seeing them live through this is a simple one.” Alowishus said, stepping toward her and Yami.

Teris turned to face him. “Let them go and I’ll do it.”

“Teris... No--” Fuegoleon’s lips moved, sound barely coming out. His voice faltered, weakly coughing up blood.

Yami uttered a stream of curses, his grip on Teris tightening. He scowled at Alowishus and the surrounding Agents of Chaos in the low, flickering firelight of Piper’s magic. He would kill every single one of them even if it took his entire life to hunt down every member of Alowishus’ followers.

“That’s not how this goes.” Alowishus told Teris. “Your friends go free only after you and Yami do as I say. Play difficult and we will continue harming them until you do or they die; whichever comes first. But I warn you. They proved difficult themselves, refusing to answer the simplest questions. It’s left them in bad shape. I doubt they’d be able to survive much more.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes slowly lifted, too weak to rise his heavy head. He wanted to tell Teris not to listen. He would rather die than have his cousin agree to whatever these people wanted. But no matter hard he tried, his brain couldn’t make his chapped bleeding lips form the words.

Yami didn’t need a better look at Fuegoleon and Nozel to know Alowishus was telling the truth. It was clear they had been tortured and were in really rough shape. Nozel’s head lolled. Though it was difficult to tell if the man was unconscious or not.

“What do you want?” Yami asked.

“To get to the treasure vault of a labyrinth.” Alowishus said.

“What? You and your people so lacking that you need us for such a simple task.” Yami mocked.

“This isn’t any labyrinth, Yami. The contents of the vault are meant for you and Teris. Destined for the two of you to find and receive.” Alowishus told.

“Labyrinth 297,353.” Teris breathed.

Alowishus smiled. “I see you’ve heard of it.”

Yami looked at Teris in question.

Teris stared back, both surprised and not that Yami didn’t remember. “He wants us to collect the Future of Chaos.”

“Not just the two of you.” Alowishus said, keen ears hearing Teris’ whisper. “I will be going down with you to also receive the page.”

Yami turned to the man. “The History of Chaos has been nothing but a curse. Like hell I’m going to the labyrinth that has the Future of Chaos. I’d rather see those two die.”

“As you wish.” Alowishus’ eyes slid to the Mage that stood beside Nozel and gave a slight nod.

Nozel’s body tensed and began to squirm. Hanging from his arms, he began to swing. His muscles spasmed at the pain. Teeth pressed together trying to hold back the cry that bubbled in his throat.

Yami couldn’t see any outward wounds being made. But when blood began to come from Nozel’s ears, nose, eyes, and mouth, he barked. “Stop!”

Alowishus tilted his head at Yami, not yet giving the signal for the Mage to cease. “Agree.”

Yami glared.

Nozel began to scream.

Voice caught in fear and horror, Teris’ trembled, knuckles white as she clutched onto Yami’s upper arms.

“We’ll do it. We’ll go.” Yami broke.

Alowishus smiled. “Excellent.”

The signal was given and the Mage stopped.

Alowishus held a beckoning hand out to Teris. “Come here.”

Yami’s arm tightened around Teris’ waist. But he hadn’t needed to worry, she didn’t even try to move.

“It appears you require another lesson in how this goes.” Alowishus turned to the Mage and told. “Don’t be so gentle this time.”

Whatever the man was doing, he did it to both Nozel and Fuegoleon. Both their bodies seized. The Crimson Lion and Silver Eagle crying out. Teris tired to take a step toward Alowishus but Yami held her in place. She squirmed in his arms, pushing at his chest; but Yami refused to release her.

Teris looked up Yami at single tear rolling from its bank and down her cheek. “Please.”

Yami shook his head even as his hold slowly released. Teris stepped away him. He made to follow but was barred by someones arm. They didn’t dare touch him, but it was enough to stay his steps.

Teris was more than halfway to him when Alowishus gave his man a nod.

Teris’ steps ceased. Her head started to turn to look over her shoulder at Fuegoleon and Nozel when suddenly Alowishus was right in front of her. His hand clasped her jaw, fingers digging into her cheeks as he turned her to face him.

The next thing Teris knew, Alowishus was kissing her. No. It wasn’t really a kiss. Though that didn’t make it any less unnerving or make her stop trying to push away. It was more like the way a mother bird feeds her young. Only in this case, Alowishus was forcing a thick, vaporous substance down her throat.

Yami broke the arm barring his way and rushed forward. He was tackled and held down by three men. A cloak of mana flickered around Yami like a sputtering candle flame, present one moment and gone the next.

Calen ground his teeth. His magic fighting to negate Yami’s.

Mana skin blinking in and out of existence, Yami threw one of the men holding him into another that was coming to assist. He got to his feet and tossed a second against a tree trunk ten meters away,

“Stand back.” Slade told the third that was still trying to hold Yami back from their Master. The Rope Mage created a glowing rope. It wrapped around Yami, binding him tight.

Yami fell to the ground. He pulled and struggled against the magical binds, yelling curses and threats.

Alowishus released Teris and staggered back. Misandre was there to help steady her Master.

Teris fell to her knees. Sputtering, she coughed up dense black smoke. Her eyes watered, at the burning cold that seeped through her body into her very soul.

“What the hell did you do to her! I’ll kill you!” Yami roared, the magical ropes breaking nearly as fast as Slade could create them.

“I merely replenished her mana stores. You should thank me. In her depleted state she wouldn’t have survived receiving the Future of Chaos, let alone whatever dangers we might cross down there.” Alowishus looked down at Teris who was on all fours choking up thick black puffs. “Your system is adjusting to foreign mana. It’s not a perfect exchange, but you’ll be fine.”

Yami snarled. His fighting didn’t let up, even as Teris’ coughing eased.

“Let him go to her.” Alowishus ordered.

As soon as Slade’s magic released, Yami was on his feet. He rushed to Teris, sliding to his knees to stop beside her. His arm wrapped around her jerking shoulders as she continued to sputter.

“You alright?” Yami asked, pushing her hair back from her face.

Teris nodded, still wheezing. She wiped the stale taste of Alowishus off her mouth and spit, wisps of black mana escaping her mouth and nose like smoke. She pushed up to her knees, a shaking hand gripping Yami’s arm for balance. “Leon? Nozel?”

Yami glanced over at the still bound men. Neither Nozel or Fuegoleon moved. Their breathing so shallow Yami couldn’t see the rise and fall of their chests. Through his sense of their Ki, he was able to pick up on their faint breaths and weakened heartbeats.

“Still breathing.” It was the only thing Yami could say.

Alowishus turned away. “Let’s go. The new moon rises. We must be in the vault by its peak.”

“What’s a moonless night have to do with it?” Teris rasped, Yami helping her to her feet.

Alowishus turned back her. Rather than answer, he told. “Yami’s power might be on the rise. But he has still faced a small down trend as the Summer Solstice has neared. Your power, though lessening, will continue to grow slightly until the morning of the solstice.”

Yami looked at Teris seeing her frown at the unanswered question. He could see her mind working, trying to figure out the answer on her own.

“Before we head out. Turn around and look at your beloved friends.” Alowishus ordered.

Despite not wanting to do anything the man told her to, Teris couldn’t resist. She turned.

Yami stood in her way, wide shoulders and towering frame blocking her view. He gave her a slight shake of his head.

Teris stared up at him.

“Move and let her see them, Yami. You both should know the stakes any further disobedience will have.” Alowishus told.

“She doesn’t need to see them.” Yami said, eyes lifting to the man that called himself Death.

Alowishus stared back. For a moment it looked as if he would insist. With a sigh, he allowed. “Very well. You’ve seen the state of them, Yami. You know what testing me would mean. I doubt you want to be the cause of their deaths.”

Teris balked at that. She tried to step to the side, but Yami moved with her.

“So protective.” Alowishus smirked. Looking at Teris, he told. “It’s probably for the best. A sight like that will stay with you long after they’ve recovered, or died.”

“Leave her alone.” Yami growled.

Alowishus looked down at Teris. “Just so long as you’re aware. Timeis of the essence for the both of us. Your cousin won’t last more than two hours at most. Your Intended not lasting much longer after that. And that’s only if you behave and don’t kill them yourselves by having me set Nexis back to work on them.”

Yami glared at Alowishus. “We won’t try anything. Let’s just get on with it.”

“For the Prince’s sake I hope that’s true. I will be carrying a charm. If I activate it, Nexis continues his work until I deactivate it. If I’m injured, it activates immediately. If I am rendered unconscious, it activates immediately. As unlikely as such a happening is, if I am killed...” Alowishus smiled at the change in Yami’s eyes at the prospect.

“Let me guess. The charm activates.” Yami said.

“No. The charm crumbles to dust. As does the connecting ones left in the hands of my followers. If that happens, not only will the Silva and Vermillion heirs be instantly killed. But the Agents watching Captain's Julius and Jax, as well a the rest of your friends from afar, will spring into action killing them before they even realize there’s a threat.” Alowishus said.

“But you’ll be dead.” Yami said, as if the rest didn’t matter.

Alowishus gave a tight smile. “Only for a time. You cannot kill Death”

“Pretty sure if I removed your head you’ll die.” Yami said.

“I’ve heard that before. Sadly, only one such commenter was still around to see how wrong they were.” Alowishus sighed tiredly and raised a guiding arm. “Shall we?”

Taking Teris’ hand, Yami stepped after Alowishus. They walked for some time through the dark forest with only the dim glow of the accompanying Agents of Chaos’ grimoires to light the way.

While the mana Alowishus gave Teris might've bolstered her magics reserves. It didn’t do much to help against physical exhaustion. Seeing her start to lag, Yami looked ahead to Alowishus. “Didn’t you say time was of the essence? Why are we tripping through a moonless forest?”

“Misandre will see us inside the labyrinth, but first we must find it.” Alowishus said. Pausing his steps to stare at something in his hand.

“What do you got there?” Yami asked.

“Directions. Of a sort.” Alowishus looked over his shoulder at Yami. “Come have a look if you’d like.”

Yami slowly released Teris’ hand. He glared at the surrounding Agents of Chaos in warning. Grateful for the breather, Teris didn’t move to follow him.

Alowishus watched Yami as he stepped beside him and looked at what he held in his open palm.

Yami scowled. “Are those bones?”

“Finger bones to be precise. They’re from the maker of the labyrinth and are pointing us to the labyrinths entrance.” Alowishus smirked at Yami. “You see? I do my part to make things as easy and painless as I can for the two you. When we reach the area, Misandre will portal the three of us in. Once down there, we’ll make our way to the vault and the three of us will enter and receive the Future of Chaos.”

Yami raised a brow. “The three of us?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I might not have the brains Teris does. But I remember the paper sniffers at Investigations saying Yurist’s prophecy said the ones who found the History of Chaos would find its future. Seeing as you weren’t there when we got the first page of Chaos. I don’t see how you expect to get your hands on the second.”

Alowishus’ eyes darkened. “I’ve forgotten more about Yurist and his prophecy’s than the sum knowledge of the four kingdoms libraries and scholars combined. When it comes to such things, you must be careful, Yami. Yes, the prophecy says the two that find the History of Chaos will also find the Future of Chaos. But the key word there is find. Not receive.”

Yami looked at the man thinking that if the keyword was ‘find’ then Alowishus was still somehow wrong and in for a disappointment; because he and Teris weren’t finding anything, they were being led. Giving one last look at the bones that moved like a compass, Yami stepped back to Teris.

They walked a bit more until Alowishus stopped once again.

“Misandre. Here. Three hundred and seven meters down.” Alowishus glanced at Yami and Teris seeing they too had picked up on the numbers. He and his people still hadn’t learned the full meaning of Yami being a third seventh son; and as much as he wanted to question Yami further on it, now wasn’t the time.

Calen stepped to his Master, his concern evident. He remembered last years long lingering injury Alowishus had suffered from his battle with Julius Nova, and Yami and Teris’ combined attack.

“They know the stakes, and won’t try anything.” Alowishus soothed Calen. He looked at Yami and Teris. “Will you.”

Yami’s left hand rested on his katana’s hilt. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust us. Just like we’re having to trust you about not killing the royals, and letting us all go.”

Calen glared at Yami. “If you harm the Master. I’ll do more than kill your friends. I’ll find this Land of the Rising Sun and end every single member of the Sukehiro line.”

“Good luck with that.” Yami said, sure there had to be a family that went by Sukehiro in his homeland; unfortunately for Calen’s plans, it wasn’t Yami’s family.

Misandre opened up a portal. Alowishus gave the Spatial Mage a nod as he passed through. That’s when Yami saw the woman’s hands. Hands he’d recognize anywhere given the amount of times they had hit him and tried to crush his neck.

Yami pulled his katana from its sheath. “Those don’t belong to you!”

“Yami, don’t!” Teris grabbed his arm, not seeing how his eyes had flicked black for a fraction of a second.

Snarling at the woman wearing Bronn’s hands, Yami sheathed his katana. “I’ll soon see those off you and where they belong.”

96.2.2

“Teris. Give us some light.” Alowishus said from somewhere in the dark space.

Teris’ hand twitched tempted to light up the direction Spade’s voice sounded from and fry him. Her grip on Yami’s arm tightened, grateful they had stepped through the portal together.

Slowly, she lit up the area. The three blinked, their eyes adjusting.

Looking about the space, Alowishus told. “To use your terminology, the labyrinth isn’t active. With it not open and visible to the surface we will have to deal with the dark. But it also means that most of the beasts and traps will be in hibernation. Still, be on guard. The creatures that reside in places like this are more powerful during the new moon.”

“Which leads me to ask again. Why a moonless night?” Teris questioned.

Alowishus tilted his head. “The vault is this way.”

Senses alert to danger even if he didn’t appear to be, Yami commented almost conversationally. “I suppose we should be thankful that Bronn was such a good Spatial Mage. Without his hands, that woman probably would’ve deposited us between bedrock.”

“Noticed that did you?” Alowishus smiled, leading the way.

“Gotta admit, I half expected her to try and smack me upside the head.” Yami said.

“Parts taken carry a residual portion of a persons magic, not a remnant of the persons character.” Alowishus said.

“Why take Bronn’s hands at all? Were Erskin’s a little too chewed up by Saber Wolves? Or were the hands of your dead follower too painful to see?” Teris asked.

“When you have lived as long as I; such feelings of friendship, love, even hate all but fade away. I’m not so old that I’m incapable of affecting such emotions for the sake of others. But, just between the three of us. I feel little to nothing. Well, until the two of you showed up.” Alowishus stopped and turned to to face them. “You two have done much more than give me the means to reach my aims. You have made me feel again. First excitement. Then awe. I have long since forgotten what hope felt like. But I believe I may have begun to feel a bit of that as well.”

Teris’ brows furrowed. “Just how old are you?”

Alowishus wagged a finger at her. “A proper bred young royal like you should know it’s impolite to ask.”

“Just how old are you?” Yami questioned.

Alowishus smirked and turned away. “Come. Time runs short.”

Though they didn’t come upon any traps. They did happen upon two beasts. Just as Alowishus had said, the creatures were more difficult to subdue than expected. Finally they reached a large cavernous chamber with a set of towering double doors that looked near identical to the ones that had housed the History of Chaos.

“Our time together is almost over.” Alowishus said, as if saddened by the fact.

“You’ll keep your word and let us go.” Yami prompted.

“Of course. I’m a man of my word. After this, you and Teris are free to go. Until I next require you that is.”

“Nozel and Fuegoleon?” Teris questioned.

“Your beloved cousin and your Intended will be set free as well.” Alowishus said.

“Last time we faced a vault containing something having to do with Yurist and Chaos the doors snapped shut behind us and didn’t reopen till someone from the outside did so.” Yami said.

“That won’t be an issue.” Alowishus said.

“Why? Got a tracking charm on you that you’ll leave where you’re standing so the Spatial Mage with Bronn’s hands can portal here and open the doors when we’re done?” Yami asked.

“Clever. But no.” Alowishus told.

“Then what’s your plan for getting us out of there?” Teris questioned.

“Me.” Alowishus said.

“You?” Teris stared.

Alowishus’ expression darkened. “Even if you don’t trust me. Trust that I don’t want to be in that vault room any longer than necessary.”

Alowishus turned and looked at the vault doors. Excited as he was to once again see and this time receive the Future of Chaos, he wondered if his grandfather’s work would have him. And if added to his grimoire, what, if anything, the page of Chaos would show him.

96.3

Nozel’s eyes slowly opened. Even with the pain, thirst, hunger, and fatigue muddling his senses; he could feel a swell of mana not too far from where they were.

Guilt washed over him. Not just for Teris agreeing to whatever Alowishus wanted for his and Fuegoleon’s sake; but for the terrible state the Crimson Lion was in.

During their questioning, the Agents of Chaos had taken to torturing the other in effort to get them to comply. The tactic had worked a lot quicker on Fuegoleon, who had caved, reluctantly answering their questions. Nozel’s will to protect Teris and ability to tune things out had seen him hold out longer. Their tormentors cutting into Fuegoleon’s flesh and magically tearing at his insides as Alowishus calmly waited for Nozel to answer.

Much as he wanted to, Nozel couldn’t fully lay the blame of this on Yami. Not when he and Fuegoleon were being used to make Teris comply with Alowishus Spade’s wishes. Not when even he had broke for Fuegoleon’s sake and answered the mans questions. He tried to recall what those questions had been but currently couldn’t.

His still good eye, the other swollen shut, turned in the direction of the swelling mana. The direction Alowishus had taken Teris and Yami in. He hoped Teris was alright, and silently swore he’d kill Yami if the man let anything happen to her.

Still unconscious, Fuegoleon’s shallow breath rattled in his chest. The Crimson Lion was fading. Yami and Teris needed to hurry.

96.4

Yami’s head snapped up, sensing a rise in Alowishus’ mana.

Teris turned to the man as well, tone accusatory. “The peak of the new moon has a similar effect as the solstice does for us.”

“Not the peak of the new moon. The moment right before. When it is at its darkest. The height of the moons death, if you will.” Alowishus gestured to the closed vault doors. “After you.”

“Never been in a labyrinth where the vault doors didn’t open. Do we just bust in?” Yami asked.

Teris shook her head. “There’s magic holding the doors closed. If we try to force it, the reaction could be similar to our magic when it clashes.”

Yami looked up. “Under three hundred some odd meters of earth and stone. I don’t like our chances of surviving that.”

Teris turned to Alowishus. “The labyrinth’s not active. There is no way we can open the vault doors.”

“You disappoint me. Unless you’re hoping I’m that stupid.”

Teris’ mouth opened, but Alowishus continued on.

“I assure you. I didn’t go through all this trouble without being certain there was a way to open a sleeping labyrinths vault room.”

“Then do it.” Teris said.

“Now that does make me certain you know better. Did you forget the rules regarding your friends up top? Think you could see me dead by tricking me and light travel to them before my followers kill them?” Alowishus’ eyes darkened. “Open it up.”

“The mana you gave me— I doubt it’ll recognize it as mine.” Teris said.

“Then we will just have to hope your system was able to assimilate enough of it for the labyrinth to recognize it is you.” Alowishus said.

“What’s that?” Yami asked, looking between them.

Frowning at Alowishus, Teris explained. “If what Yurist wrote is true. Then our mana should be able to open the doors.”

“So why can’t he do that?” Yami asked.

Teris stepped before the doors. “Shall we.”

Yami scowled. “I asked you a question.”

“Leon and Nozel don’t have much time.” Teris told.

Yami stared a moment. Something was off. He didn’t like how Teris didn’t answer him. How she wouldn’t even look at him, staring straight at the door. But she was right. Braid Face and Lion Cub were in bad shape. They didn’t have much time.

Heaving a sigh, Yami tilted his head side to side, stretching his neck. “How much mana are we giving to open up this thing?”

Teris swallowed, nervously. “As much as it needs in order to recognize us as us.”

Yami did the same as Teris and placed his palm on the door. He slowly loosened his hold on his mana. Even a couple paces from Teris and in direct contact with the object he was letting his mana seep into, it was a struggle to keep it from veering to connect with hers.

A pressure beneath his hand built as if something other than the door was stretching out, making contact with him. It apparently approved, as it stopped taking in his mana forcing Yami to pull back on the eased harness of it least his lose control and his mana connect with Teris’.

Yami turned to Teris surprised she wasn’t done as she had started before him. He stepped to her. A prickle of foreboding tickling the back of his neck. “Teris?”

Watching Teris with interest, Alowishus warned. “I wouldn’t touch her.”

Yami spun to the man, temper and worry rising. “What’s happening?”

“It’s trying to decide if it’s really her.” Alowishus said.

“What do you mean, if it’s her? Of course it’s her.”

“Did you forget? I gave her a portion of my mana.” Alowishus said.

Yami’s muscles tensed, concern tipping into fear. His jaw clenched, understanding what Teris and Alowishus had been talking about. Understanding why she had avoided answering and had refused to look at him.

“I’m confidant her system has been able to assimilate enough of my mana and make it her own by now.” Alowishus eased.

“Bastard! I’ll kill you!” Yami stepped toward Alowishus, katana cloaked in darkness.

“Do you really wish to be the death of Teris’ beloved friends when you are so close to seeing them and yourselves go free? Or was this your secret plan all along? To lash out at me and get her Intended out of the way. Permanently.”

Katana raised to send a slash of darkness, Yami paused.

Alowishus lifted a shoulder, smirking. “I can’t say I blame you. You face enough trails with me and my plans as it is. It would undoubtedly be a relief not to have to deal with the mess of having to fight in order to make Teris yours. You know I could just activate the charm. We could finish up here and return to the top. It’ll simply appear to Teris as if they succumbed to their injuries. It will be our secret. She need never know.”

Yami glared. The cloak of darkness disappeared from his blade. “No.”

“I could send message for only Nozel to be put down.” Alowishus tempted. “Fuegoleon, if he still lives, isn’t the problem after all.”

“I said, no.” Yami growled. He sheathed his katana.

Teris fell to her knees.

Yami turned back and knelt beside her. “I got you. You alright?”

“Yeah.” Teris breathed.

Yami brushed her hair back noting how pale and feverish she was. “When we get outta here you and I are gonna talk about the chance you took without telling me.”

“Had to—for Nozel and Leon.” Teris panted, trembling hand wiping her sweat drenched brow.

Looking down at them, Alowishus felt a pang of disappointment that Yami hadn’t taken him up on his offer. Maybe it was merely because Death had helped create Darkness; but there was something about Yami that made him want to win the young man over.

Alowishus stepped in front of the opening vault doors. “Up. We still got our prize to receive.”

Ignoring the man, Yami asked Teris. “Can you stand?”

Still out of breath, Teris merely nodded.

Yami hooked her arm around his neck and wrapped his arm around her waist. Easily bearing most of her weight, he lifted her to her feet with him as he stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

They stepped into the vault with Alowishus. Yami and Teris looked at each other, puzzled when they weren’t congratulated by the same Crazy Happy Killer Voice that had greeted them when they received the History of Chaos.

If the labyrinths were created by the same person. Even if that person wasn’t Yurist himself. Then surely things would be similar. The doors and interior of the vault were almost identical.

At least this vault didn’t have bodies in various stages of decay, Teris morbidly thought.

Alowishus seemed to realize something was wrong as well. Mana flaring, the Master of the Agents of Chaos released a roar of fury. The chamber they were in shook around them. Dirt and stone raining down.

Yami held Teris tight, creating a shielding cocoon of blackness. “Get us out of here!”

Teris would’ve done so but for one thing. Her concern for Nozel and Fuegoleon’s lives. Alowishus still held that charm.

“Now!” Yami gritted, dark cocoon straining against the weight of the crumbling labyrinth.

Teris light traveled them to where they had last seen Fuegoleon and Nozel.

“Get away from them!” Alowishus ordered his people when they made to move against Yami and Teris.

Teris spun around. Yami’s shield dropped,

Teris’ hand lifted on instinct. She sent out a burst of incinerating light only for it to dim and slow as soon as if left her. Slowed as it was, it was still faster than most magical attacks.

Caught by surprised, Alowishus didn’t get a chance to move. The attack struck him in the chest. There was a moment of stillness as everyone stared.

Alowishus and Teris blinked at one another. They both knew he had been undefended and her direct hit should have instantly killed him.

Rage still consuming him, Alowishus counted this as one thing going his way this night. “It would seem your system hasn’t assimilated enough of my mana for it to harm me. Better luck next time.” He saw Yami reach for his katana and ordered. “Misandre. Quickly now.”

Alowishus didn’t wait around long enough to see if Misandre was able to portal his followers out in time. Breaking apart, he disintegrated into the earth.

Katana cloaking in darkness even as he unsheathed it from its scabbard, Yami sent out a several dark slashes. He cursed, knowing before they cut down the trees beyond that he was too slow. Alowishus and the Agents of Chaos were gone.

Yami turned to Fuegoleon and Nozel. With a swipe of his blade, he cut the Silver Eagle and Crimson Lion free. Hoping Alowishus' foreign mana wouldn’t adversely effect her light traveling Fuegoleon and Nozel, Teris took the four of them to Healers Hall.

96.5

Alowishus’ anger had barely calmed. Storming into his private office, he slammed the door behind him and made for the shelf behind his desk, picking up his father's skull.

“Your lied!” Alowishus roared, gripping the skull in both hands.

“I told you, your efforts would be futile.” A voice resonated in his head.

Alowishus shook the skull, not hearing the dead mans words. “The Future of Chaos was not there!”

“The Future of Chaos is not for you.” The voice of the skull sounded in his mind.

“I had a plan to work around that. It was faultless.” Alowishus snapped.

“Apparently not.” The voice said.

“You placed grandfathers work back inside labyrinth 297,353 after you retrieved it, putting special protections in place to keep me out.” Alowishus said.

“You mean after I took back what you stole?” The voice of Erin Spade questioned.

Alowishus snarled, grip tightening. “I had it in my grasp and you took it. Stole it.”

“You stole it first.”

Alowishus slammedthe skull down and turned away. He had barely been able to delve into the unfathomable knowledge that was the Future of Chaos before his father had ripped it from his grasp. He had been sure his father had placed the page back in labyrinth 297,353 for Yami and Teris to eventually find; certainthat his father had merely set barriers to block his re-entrance, since he had been unable to enter again until tonight.

“You placed grandfathers work back inside labyrinth 297,353 after you retrieved it.” Alowishus said, again.

“Did I?” His father's voice sounded in his mind.

“You moved the Future of Chaos to another location!”

“You moved it first when you stole it.”

“You changed the future Yurist saw. You ruined Yami and Teris’ destiny to have the Future of Chaos.” Alowishus accused.

“More thanlikely, I kept theprophecy concerning the Future of Chaosin tact. While my father’s prophetic words could often be unclear. That one sentencewas quite clear. Findand receive. It could hardly be said those twofound the labyrinth, what with you setting upon them and forcing them to bend to yourwill and go down there. I have full confidence that Yami and Teris will find and receive my father’s final work, if they haven’t already.”

“What do you mean haven’t already?” Alowishus demanded.

“Destiny canonly be bent to your will so far before it snapsback to its own designs, Fin.”

Alowishus sneered at beingcalledby his first life's name. “I will have my way, Old Man. Yami and Teris will help me awaken Chaos and see to a finalend. I will get what I have worked sevenexistencesfor.”

“Good luck doing it without the Future of Chaos.” The voice taunted.

“You are useless and more infuriating every time I speak to you. I should ground your bones to dust and forget you ever lived.”

“I wish you would.” The skull of Erin Spade said.

“That would bring you too much joy. Finally finding your rest after all these years. No. You will not rest until I have my way.” Picking up the skull, Alowishus set it back on the shelf. “Till the death of the next moon, Old Man. Know that I won’t enjoy the three nights of your company anymore than you will mine.”

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Next chapter snippet:

“He’s ill.” Jax said.

“How ill?” Marx asked.

“Deathly.” Yami rumbled.

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #julius novachrono #mereoleona vermillion #black clover #light in the darkness

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