#but they died in surgery after so much hope and love from everyone else around them and it just feels so.. personal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pan-fangirl-345 · 3 years ago

Text

For You, And You, And You

Summary: As if falling in love with three people who are already in a relationship isn't bad enough, you start coughing up flowers a few months after you figure it out. Now you have a decision to make, but you don't think it's really much of a decision anymore.

TW: Blood, vomit, unrequited love (not really unrequited), angst, hurt (there is comfort!), swearing, mentions of overstimulation (not the s*xy kind), and mentions of panic attacks. These sound bad, but there is a happy ending, I promise.

A/N: I know that I have other things that I need to be working on, but this has been running around my head all day and it seems like a good idea.

Side notes: Sign language usage, hard of hearing Bakugou, ADHD Kaminari

If I have forgotten anything, please let me know!

YOU WATCHED AS Bakugou corralled Kaminari and Kirishima towards his room so that they could study together, laughing when Kaminari threw you a look that practically screamed, 'SOS'.

"What are you laughin' at, Princess?" Bakugou snapped, glaring at you. "You're comin' with us!"

"All my homework is done," you informed him, glancing at them over the top of your book. "I don't need-"

"You're coming," Bakugou repeated, grabbing his blond boyfriend by the collar of his shirt when he tried to escape, practically dragging him.

You stood, knowing full well that Bakugou was not above dropping his boyfriends in his room and coming back for you the way he had for Kaminari.

"Fine," you grumbled, stretching with a sigh when multiple parts of your body cracked and popped. "Just let me grab my things."

Five minutes later you were leaning against the wall of Bakugou's room, right next to the door.

You were, according the Bakugou, guarding the door in case his boyfriends tried to escape for whatever reason, but you were pretty sure that he knew that you were sitting there so you could make a quick getaway.

You didn't mind studying with Bakugou and the boys, but it was awkward for you, given the circumstances.

Bakugou, Kirishima, and Kaminari had been dating since the break before your second year of high school. Halfway through second year and they had settled into a rhythm of sorts after many failed attempts and a lot of backtracking.

It wasn't their relationship that made you uncomfortable though, it was the fact that you spent so much time with them.

Normally, spending time with them would be an honor, but being in love with them made things complicated.

Especially when they seemed hellbent on spending as much time with you as possible.

You propped your book up on your knees, finding your spot before you pulled your headphones on.

They were low enough that you could still hear the boys talking, in case they needed to get a hold of you for some reason, but still loud enough that you could hear the beat and the lyrics.

Two taps on your shoulder had you looking up.

Bakugou tapped his ears twice.

It had been a code you had worked out.

Because of your quirk, you sometimes needed to keep your headphones on as training, and when they boys tapped you twice and then tapped their ears they were asking if you needed them on or if you could take them off.

Good thing about being friends with Bakugou was that he taught you sign language, so you had a way to communicate with the three of them if you needed to keep your headphones on.

"What's up?" you asked softly- just in case Kaminari was still sensitive- as you pulled your headphones down around your neck.

Kaminari had fried himself during training earlier that day, and his senses became sensitive after he regained himself, not that anyone had figured it out until recently because he refused to be any kind of burden.

"Can you help Dunce Face?"

"Always," you said, scooting over to see what Kaminari was working on, careful to avoid contact. "Hey, Kami, what do you need help with?"

When he pointed you in the right direction, you started working with him once you made sure Kirishima was understanding what he was working on too.

Bakugou tended to work by himself and then check on the others when he needed a break or once he was done with his own homework.

There were times when he would help them if they asked, but Kirishima and Kaminari were both stubborn and thought that they shouldn't need the help, so they tended to wait until Bakugou took a break.

It was one of the reasons Bakugou kept you around when they had these study sessions.

You were almost always available when they needed the help and he couldn't break his own concentration.

You checked on Kirishima once Kaminari was on track again.

He had been making leaps and bounds when it came to his classes after these study sessions had started being a regular thing. Kaminari had too, simply because Bakugou kept them on track and he was able to teach them in a way that they would remember and could understand.

They still weren't high in the class rankings because according to Kaminari and Kirishima, "Todoroki, Bakubabe, Midoriya, Iida, Momo, and you are all some kind of mutant geniuses," but they were doing better than Mineta and Aoyama were.

Bakugou had earbuds in, and he was nodding his head along softly to whatever he was listening to.

You had made a collaborative playlist with everyone in your class except for Mineta, and they always added their favorite songs, or ones they thought you might like to it occasionally.

You now had a playlist over 60 hours long, and you were constantly being surprised by who added what. Not only had it been a good way to get to know your classmates, it had also been a good way to irritated everyone when you blasted it through the dorms.

You had separate playlists with Tokoyami, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, Midoriya, Jirou, Mina, Uraraka, and Shinso.

They were the ones that listened to music the most, and their interests aligned with yours more than you thought they would.

Shinso, who was going to be replacing Mineta- much to everyone's relief- was someone you had come to know through Kaminari, and you had never regretted a thing.

Kaminari tapping on your shoulder brought you back to the present, and you turned your attention to him, explaining a concept he didn't quite understand yet.

Bakugou was at his desk, and Kaminari was spread over his boyfriend's bed, while Kirishima sat near the head of the bed, leaning against it as he worked.

When Bakugou stood from his desk with a stretch, you finished up your explanation, making sure Kaminari understood.

You scooted back over to your spot when Bakugou sat down near his boyfriends.

You shut your book, leaning your head back against the wall as you listened to one of your favorite songs.

When the song was over, you glanced at the boys.

They seemed fine, so you stood and exited while they were distracted.

You shut Bakugou's door quietly, heading for your own room.

A tickle in the back of your throat had you pausing to cough into your hand and clearing your throat a couple of times.

You knew that if Bakugou thought you were even the slightest bit sick he would kill you, and harshly nurse you back to health with a lot of yelling and cooking.

You really hoped it was just a small cough.

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

NOT JUST A SMALL COUGH, you thought-panicked- as you stared at the three different flower petals in your hand.

Your cough had gotten worse over the last couple of weeks, but no one else seemed to have noticed, not even Bakugou, who was known for knowing when someone was sick even before they did.

You had heard of this.

Hanahaki, a disease born from unrequited love. A disease that would grow inside your lungs until a) you confessed and the feelings were reciprocated, b) you got the surgery that would take away the flowers and the feelings you had for the person(s), or c) you didn't get the surgery and the flowers slowly started to block your airway and injure your lungs and throat until you choked to death or died of malnutrition and dehydration from the damage to your throat.

A) seemed like the best option, but there was little chance of that happening.

You sighed, tucking the petals away in your suit pocket.

You knew you would have to tell someone about the problem soon, especially if they started to injure your lungs, which they likely would.

But for now, it would be your dirty little secret.

You had been going to the library after training, checking out books on flowers, trying to figure out what kind of flowers you were coughing up, since it might tell you who you were in love with.

You had a feeling, but you really hoped that you were wrong.

With further investigation, you found that you weren't wrong at all, quite the opposite in fact.

All three petals, despite being different colors were sunflower petals.

The red ones symbolized energy and passion, and while that one could have been for all of the boys, you knew that petal meant one of the people you were in love with was Bakugou.

Normally, people associated red with Kirishima, and while that was also true, you had a gut feeling that the red petals were for Bakugou.

The orange ones must have been for Kaminari then. They symbolized high spirits and happiness, and while Kaminari had his bad days, he could make you feel better even when he was having one of his bad days, and you loved him for it.

Which left the yellow ones for Kirishima. Goodness, truth, and endurance were definitely something you associated with Kirishima, and the brightness of the petal was a reminder as well.

You let out a shuddering sigh when the realization set in that you either had to confess and hope for the best, or get a surgery that would erase your love for them permanently.

"There you are Princess," Bakugou snarled softly and your jerked upright at the sight of all three of them standing there, looking worried.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked.

"You aren't in my room, for one thing," Bakugou said, eyes roving over your little workspace. "Taking an interest in botany?"

"Sort of," you said. "Someone's been leaving me flower petals, so I was wondering if there was a specific reason."

You had prepared the lie in case of something like this, you were just hoping that Bakugou bought it.

"Is that so?" he inquired, eyes sharp as they took you in.

Kaminari and Kirishima locked gazes over Bakugou's shoulder, some expression crossing both of their faces for a few moments before they went back to normal.

"So what are they?" Kaminari asked.

"Red, orange, and yellow sunflowers," you admitted.

You gave the boys a run-down of what they meant, but you noticed that Kirishima and Kaminari continued to share looks with each other, while Bakugou seemed to be scrutinizing your every move and word.

"I'm sorry that I missed your study session," you said after a few minutes.

"Don't worry about it," Kaminari said. "It's not like we're forcing you to go. We understand that you have other interests sometimes."

You noticed that he used the words 'we' and 'we're' and you wondered if that meant just him and Kirishima, or if that extended to Bakugou too.

"Still, I should have-"

"It's in the past," Bakugou interrupted. "Just make sure that you're at the next one."

"I promise I'll be there," you told them, smiling brightly, ignoring the urge to cough out more petals.

The amount of petals that you were coughing up continued to rise every week, and it was getting harder and harder to hide as time went on.

You knew that pretty soon, you would start coughing up full flowers instead of just petals, and that was what scared you the most.

You knew that you would have to go to the doctor soon, just to see how long you had before you were in serious danger, but you wanted to hold on for a little bit longer.

You wanted to hold onto the feeling of being with them for just a little while longer, before all that was left was the memory.

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

YOU SHOULD HAVE ACCOUNTED for Aizawa though.

Despite his normally disinterested nature, he had grown attached to your class in the time he had you.

You may have been problem children, but your class were his problem children, and he had made a habit of checking in on all of you at least once a week.

"Who is it?" he asked as soon as you sat down across from him.

He had called you into an empty classroom, and you knew what he was asking as soon as he said it.

You pulled the petals out of your pocket- cleaned and pressed, because what were you, an animal?- and said, "Take a wild guess."

"I thought I raised you better than this, (Y/L/N). No loud blonds and no problem children, but two of those three are all both of those things, and the other might as well be!"

"I know, but the heart wants what it wants," you murmured, taking the petals back.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I have a doctor's appointment on Monday, after class, so that I can see how long I have," you confessed. "After that, well, I guess the only option I have is to schedule the surgery. It's my best chance, even if it's gonna put me out of commission for a while, and there's a chance that it'll come back, everything considered."

"Have you tried telling them?" Aizawa asked.

"No," you admitted, shaking your head softly. "I don't want to burden them with this, and they want to be heroes, they would try to save me even though there's nothing they can do for me."

Aizawa nodded his understanding, but then sighed.

"In between your appointment and the surgery, if you need someone to talk to, Present Mic would be your best bet. He's gone through this before, and he's honestly better at talking with people about their feelings than I am."

"What happened?"

"In his scenario, he didn't need the surgery. I didn't need it in mine either."

Aizawa fished a ring on a chain out from under his capture scarf, and gave you a small smile.

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your own lips as you realized what this meant.

"I'm glad," you said honestly. "For the both of you."

"I want you to at least try to tell them," Aizawa said. "It couldn't hurt."

"I respect the hell out of you, Aizawa-sensei, and the same goes for Mic-sensei, but I'm going to have to say 'oh fuck no' to this one," you told him. "I really don't think that's a great idea."

"Well, I can't force you to do anything, but I really think that they at least deserve to know."

"I've started writing in journals," you admitted, pausing to cough petals into your hands before you continued. "I'll have someone give them out when before I get the surgery. Midoriya probably, he seems like the most trustworthy. Todoroki is another option. I want someone who isn't going to look through them."

Aizawa nodded, but he looked sad.

He laid his hand on your head, and it was comforting.

"I was hoping none of you would have this problem," he admitted softly. "I remember how horrible it was."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm just surprised that it was you, and a little disappointed."

"I'm sorry," you said again and Aizawa shook his head, removing his hand.

"You have nothing to apologize for, (Y/L/N), this kind of thing can never really be helped."

"I'm still sorry to have burdened you with this knowledge though. This kind of goes without saying, but . . . can you keep this on the downlow? I don't really want anyone fussing over it. The other teachers are fine, and they probably need to know, but I really don't want anyone other than that knowing."

"Are your parents aware of what's happening?" Aizawa asked.

"I told my mom, and she told Dad. He threatened to come, but I told him that it wouldn't do anything other than make things worse. They know about the appointment and the surgery since I'm a minor and I still need my parents for certain things regarding insurance and the like."

Aizawa nodded again, standing.

"You're free to go, and I promise to do what I can," he told you.

"Thank you Aizawa-sensi," you said, shaking the hand that he offered you.

"You don't have to thank me for this," Aizawa told you, looking for all the world like he would do anything to make the situation better.

"Still, thank you," you said.

He nodded, and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away down the hall.

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

"I heard that you have a doctor's appointment later," Bakugou said when you walked into his room for the usual study session.

"Yeah, I've been feeling a little bit off lately, and I was need of a physical soon anyway," you said.

"Are you okay?" Kaminari asked, taking your face in his hands to look you over for a moment.

"Kami," you murmured, putting your hands on his. "I'm fine. Just weirdly achy, it's nothing, I promise."

"It's enough that you're going to the doctor," Kirishima argued.

"You boys worry too much," you teased.

Your heart clenched at the sight and knowledge that they were worried about you. They worried about everybody, but this was a new level that you had unlocked recently.

"You're getting paler, and you've been coughing a lot lately," Kaminari argued.

"And you're getting slower during training. You took a hit from Racoon Eyes that you should've been able to dodge," Bakugou chimed in.

Damn, they really must've been worried about you if Bakugou was joining in.

"It's a cold," you said, exasperated. "It'll be gone in a few weeks."

"But-"

"Drop it," you snarled.

Kirishima and Kaminari flinched, going quiet, but Bakugou's eyes narrowed and he took a step towards you.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, curling in on yourself, immediately regretting the outburst, "but you guys are making a huge thing out of nothing. So I haven't been feeling so hot lately, but there's not a lot you can do. Besides, like I said, I'll be fine in a few weeks. At the worst it's a virus that I have to fight off on my own."

Bakugou's eyes narrowed further, and you could still see the hurt behind Kaminari and Kirishima's eyes.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you told Kirishima and Kaminari. "I get bitchy when I don't feel great. That's not an excuse though. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Come here."

Both boys moved to hug you, and you smiled at them.

"You want in Bakugou?" you asked when you noticed he was still watching you.

His face flushed pink and he snarled, "Not a fuckin' chance."

"Come on Bakubabe," Kirishima teased, opening his arms, and Kaminari followed suit.

"I have no idea why I'm in love with you fuckers," he muttered, but he walked over and let his boyfriends bring him into your little hugging circle.

"Thank you, guys, for being worried about me, but if there were something really wrong, I would let you know," you promised, hating the way the lie felt on your tongue and the way your eyes stung with unshed tears.

You let yourself soak in their warmth for a little while, tucking that feeling away, making yourself memorize the way it felt, before you let them go.

They weren't yours, you reminded yourself. They weren't your boyfriends, as much as you wished that they were.

"Let's get this show on the road," you told them, smiling brightly.

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

"Miss (Y/L/N)," the doctor said when he stepped into the room.

"That's me," you told him.

"So I understand that you're here because you've recently gotten Hanahaki, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And, please correct me if I'm wrong," the doctor said with a wince, "but you've been coughing up three different colored petals?"

"Yes, one for color for one person," you agreed.

"Well, that's a problem," the doctor said, going over whatever was on his clipboard.

"Why?"

If this guy was going to be one of those assholes that had a problem with you loving more than one person, you were going to-

"When someone is coughing up flowers for more than one person, that dramatically decreases their time frame," the doctor said. "Loving one person means it's easier to avoid them until a decision has been reached about what they want to do. Two people is harder, but doable. Three people is hard, and given your current schooling situation . . . I'm sorry to say that my hopes aren't high."

You took a deep breath, or tried to, and let yourself take a moment to despair what was coming next, to think of worst case scenario before you steeled yourself.

"So what do we do?" you asked.

"Well, we have to do some tests on your lungs," the doctor said, "maybe a scan of some sort. I will also need to know the nature of your relationship with the people you are growing the flowers for, and their relationship with each other. It may affect the plant growth, and could sway any decision you make on your treatment plan."

"I'm getting the surgery," you told the doctor. "I made that decision before I even made the appointment. I've made the decision that I'm going to be selfish about this. I'm in the hero course. I'm going to graduate, and I'm going to help the people that need it. Not even Bakugou goading me into anything is going to get me to change my mind about this."

"Bakugou," the doctor mused, "is that . . . ."

"One of the guys I'm growing my flowers for? Yeah, he is. The other two are his boyfriends. I have a fucked up taste in partners apparently," you joked.

"Ah, you're one of those patients," the doctor said.

"Hmm?"

"You make jokes to help cope, and to try and put someone else at ease. You don't have to do that here. I am a Hanahaki specialist, I see a lot of people like you."

"Okay," you murmured.

After testing your lungs, and doing some scans, the doctor took you back to the original room.

"So, given the fact that you live in close proximity, and you have to spend a lot of time with all three of the various reasons, plus estimated rate of growth and your training routine . . . I'd say you have about a month left before you start heading towards red territory, meaning you have about a month before it starts becoming exceedingly life threatening."

"If I go into the red area," you began, "how likely is it that the surgery is going to be successful?"

"Depends on how far into the red you go," the doctor said. "Until about the halfway point, there are still high chances that it will be successful and that you will make a full recovery. Any further than that and the chances start decreasing dramatically."

You nodded, taking all the information in, processing it, tucking it away, applying it to situations that might happen.

"I can practically hear the gears turning in your brain," the doctor told you, giving you a small smirk.

"Sorry, habit," you said with a wince.

"You're taking this extremely well," he noted.

"I'm in Class 2-A," you told the doctor. "I've dealt with some bad people. Things like this don't faze me for long anymore."

"Fair enough," the doctor replied. "There's not a whole lot we can do for Hanahaki, even this early, so you just have to live with it until you set a surgery date."

"I have a vacation coming up," you admitted. "I'm assuming I have to go somewhere else for the actual surgery?"

"That's correct," the doctor said. "We aren't equipped for that here, we're just the starting point."

"Okay."

"I can give you the number for the hospital you can go to to get the surgery, and you can set everything up there or give them a phone call."

You nodded, taking the piece of paper the doctor handed you.

"I noticed that you came alone," the doctor said.

"Yes, I thought it might be easier this way. My parents aren't taking this well and the only people I felt comfortable bringing with me for this kind of thing are going to make it worse if I spend time with them, so my best bet was to come alone."

"I see," the doctor murmured. "Do your parents know that you're getting the surgery?"

"I told them, they know," you said.

"How did they take that?"

"Mom cried a lot, and Dad got mad and stormed away. They have mixed feelings about the whole thing. On the one hand, they're happy that I fell in love, they have reservations about it being who it is, but they could get over that, and they're upset that I have the disease in the first place. There's also the fact that getting the surgery has so many major side effects and they're skeptical. In the end though, they know that it's my decision, and I think Aizawa-sensei might commit murder if they don't let me make my own decision, and he made that very clear to me."

"So you have a support system?"

"Yes, quite a big one everything considered."

"Then you're free to go, but please give me a call if something changes."

"Thank you."

He nodded, sending you on your way.

When you got back to campus, the boys were there waiting for you.

You smiled when you spotted them, jogging over.

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

In the end, your routine with the boys didn't really change. You still trained with them, still studied with them, but when they started asking you to join them places, you refused.

First of all, you weren't going intrude on their time together.

Secondly, as much as you would have loved to spend time with them, the plant growth was something you had to take into consideration.

You had started journaling for them more, the red one was for Bakugou, the orange one was for Kaminari, and the yellow one was for Kirishima.

You had decided that Tokoyami was your best bet for getting the journals to the boys before your surgery. He likely wouldn't snoop, and he could be trusted to get the journals to the boys when he was supposed to, not before when they had a chance to try and stop you from doing what needed to be done.

You had yet to talk to the boys about the side effects that the surgery might have on your mindset towards them, but you figured you still had time to find a way to broach the subject with them.

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

YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

You were pushing it with your training as it was, and while you were getting stronger, your lungs were getting weaker and weaker as the flowers got bigger and bigger.

"You're pushing your luck," Aizawa said, frowning down at you.

"I'm fine," you growled. "Put me in the fucking brackets. I'm getting the surgery next week, I want to get in as much training as possible before I'm put on leave."

He frowned, and he was glaring at you enough that anyone else might've backed down, but you were going to hold your ground on this one. There was absolutely no way you were missing this opportunity because your body decided that it was going to be a bitch.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Bakugou, you're going up against (Y/L/N)."

"Bring it on Princess."

"Don't hold back Blasty," you teased.

"Do I ever?" he replied.

"No," you said. And that's one of the reasons I love you.

When you both climbed into the ring, you knew it would be a good fight. You had so much stored frustration that you could take out on Bakugou without fear of harming him.

Without use of your quirks, it was almost a fair fight.

As soon as Aizawa yelled, "Start!" you were flying at each other.

Blow and block, block and blow.

It was like a dance, and things were going well for the both of you, but then Bakugou got in an unblocked blow to your stomach.

Had that been with the added force of his quirk, you would've been on the other side of Gym Gamma, but without his explosions, it just made you roll to just inside the boundaries.

You struggled to pull yourself up in between the coughing, but you were having a rough time with it.

You managed to push yourself up with your arms, but you still couldn't breathe.

You couldn't hold back the torrent of flowers that spewed from your mouth from the force of the blow. You hadn't been coughing, so there was quite a build-up in your lungs, throat, and mouth.

Bakugou launched himself, seeing an opening, but a hand held out by you had him stopping.

"Is she puking?"

"Is she alright?"

"What's going on?"

You heard Kaminari and Kirishima rushing to your sides as Aizawa ended the fight, but you waved away their help.

You were still coughing, but you managed to push yourself to your feet, though you swayed dangerously into Kaminari's side.

You were panting by the time the flow of flowers and petals stopped, and you were leaning heavily on Kaminari.

"(Y/L/N), get to Recovery Girl," Aizawa ordered.

"No, I'm okay, I can still-"

"Go!" he ordered.

"I'm fine," you argued.

"Fine?" Kirishima whispered harshly. When you turned his eyes were dark and he looked like he might burst into tears. "Fine?" he asked, voice rising. "Fine? (Y/F/N), you just threw up like, fourteen full-sized fucking sunflowers! Not to mention the number of petals too! That's not fucking fine! That's having stage three fucking Hanahaki!"

Everyone in Gym Gamma stopped at that and swiveled their heads to look at you.

You blinked as Kirishima continued his little tangent. He was swearing almost as much as Bakugou, which had you worried.

"You should have told us," Kaminari murmured, voice tight with restraint. "Why didn't you tell us?"

He was crying, you realized when you turned your head to look at him. There were tears streaming down his face, and he looked devastated.

Bakugou was eerily silent, and when you turned your attention to him, you winced.

"It's not your fault," you told him.

You hated that pinched look on his face, warring between guilt, worry, and something you hadn't quite figured out yet.

Kaminari wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting your arm over his shoulder so that he could support you.

"Bakugou, listen to me," you ordered, clearing your throat a few times. "Katsuki," you demanded when he just looked at you with those glassy eyes and pinched face. "This is not your fault."

He nodded, dazed, clearly not comprehending what you were telling him.

"Problem children two through four are free to go. Get her to Recovery Girl," Aizawa ordered. "And don't bother coming back to class today."

Kirishima took you from Kaminari, carrying you bridal style, and you leaned into him gratefully, letting your body relax, sucking in as much air as you could.

"Why didn't you tell us? We could've-"

"Could've what, Denki?" you asked quietly, letting exhaustion take over. "What could you have done? My body has decided that it's going to grow flowers to try and get my love interests to notice me that way. It's growing flowers for emotionally unavailable people and there's nothing I can do except get the surgery."

"You still could have told us!" Kaminari cried, sniffling and furiously wiping his eyes. "We could've taken you to your appointments and tried to talk some sense into whoever it was and-"

He broke off into sobs and you reached out to lay a hand on his head.

"Come on Kami, if anyone should be crying right now, it's me," you said, having to take more breaths to get through the sentence.

"We should have- no- I should have noticed," Kirishima said softly.

"I didn't want you guys to notice because I knew you would worry about me. I didn't want you guys to have to worry about me. Besides, I had my decision made by the time I coughed up the first full flower. I'm going to be selfish and get the flowers removed so that I can keep saving people."

"It's our job to worry about you, (Y/F/N)," Kaminari sobbed. "We're your friends, we love you, we want to know about this kind of thing even if it's not killing you from the inside out."

"Sparky's right," Bakugou grunted.

Your head lolled to look at him, and he looked some kind of devastated.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," you said breathlessly, giving a small chuckle.

"You should've told us."

"Next time I'll let you know," you told them, closing your eyes as you leaned your head on Kirishima's shoulder.

As soon as Kaminari opened the door to Recovery Girl's office another fit started.

"Get her on the bed and give her a bucket," she ordered. "Unfortunately, I can't do anything for this. And in her current state, a kiss isn't going to do much. I'm sorry dear."

"It's alright," you choked out, coughing more flowers into the bucket Bakugou handed you.

Kirishima patted your back softly while Kaminari held your hair back.

"Who is it?" Bakugou demanded.

"Babe, now is not the time-"

"Who is it?" he asked again, much slower and softer.

"There's no point," you told him when the overflow of flowers stopped.

The boys helped you get comfortable and you closed your eyes, wishing the bed would eat you.

"They don't need me, they don't want me."

"Have you even tried confessing?" Bakugou snapped.

You realized with a small start that he was desperate and snapping because of it. He was mad because he felt helpless and he didn't know how to handle it.

"There's no point. Three different colored flowers."

"Three different people," Kaminari realized.

"It doesn't matter if two of them love me, if the third doesn't that means that their flowers will still grow. It might give me some time, but the end result is still the same."

It was quiet for a few minutes and you relaxed into the bed, trying your best to breathe through the flowers.

"(Y/L/N)," Bakugou eventually remarked.

"What's up Blasty?" you asked.

"I'm going to ask you a question," he announced, and you cracked an eye open to glance at him, only to find realization breaking over his face. "And you know I'll know if you're lying when you answer."

"Give it your best shot Blasty," you told him, closing your eyes again.

"It's us, isn't it?" he demanded.

"Ding ding ding," you sang exhaustedly, "we have a winner."

"Wait, what?" Kaminari asked.

"The flowers that I'm growing inside my lungs, they're for the three of you. Like I said earlier, emotionally unavailable."

It was quiet again before Kirishima whispered, "So . . . we did this to you? We did this?"

"No," you snapped, sitting up to glare at him. "This is not your faults. None of this is because of anything any of you did. Hanahaki is a result of a gene mutation."

"Can you . . . explain more in depth, please?" Kaminari asked.

"A long time ago, there was this clan of people who could control plants with their emotions. It wasn't a quirk, since they didn't exist back then, but it was more of a connection with the earth or something. Anyway, rage, anger, love, hate, it all fueled their powers over nature."

"Great, plant manipulation," Bakugou grumbled.

"Then they started marrying outside the clan and all that jazz. It's a recessive gene, but it was a big clan. Anyway, a lot of people have the gene, but they don't have the right circumstances to make anything happen because of it. Because it's a recessive gene, both parents need to have it before it becomes much of a threat. Only a few unlucky bastards will ever even have a chance of getting Hanahaki. There are other less deadly variants though, but Hanahaki itself is rather rare.

"Because of the gene, when my feelings got as intense as they did, it started growing the flowers for you. The way Recovery Girl explained it, my body grew them to try and convince you guys of my feelings or something. It's hard to explain when I don't completely understand what this is either. But in short, the flowers are for you and they'll only go away when you all love me romantically or I get the surgery and forget about you."

"So you're one of the unlucky fuckers that has both recessive genes?" Bakugou asked.

"You win again Blasty. Normally, when it's only one person, it doesn't progress as fast as mine did. They can be easily avoided and it can take years for it to get this far."

"But there are three of us," Kaminari jumped in. "And we all have to live together and train. You couldn't really avoid us, meaning it got worse faster than normal."

You nodded, swallowing harshly.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't expect it to get this far, and I certainly didn't want you finding out about it until after the surgery."

"But, now we can help!" Kirishima cried.

"No, Kiri, you can't," you told him. "I'm sure you've heard, but Hanahaki is only cured when the feelings are returned. Even if you wanted to help me like that, it wouldn't work. Besides, I would never ask that of you, of any of you."

"But-But that means that you have to get the surgery and forget about us."

You opened your eyes and cupped his cheek softly.

"You'll make friends with me again," you assured him. "Even if it seems like I don't want you to. Even if my attitude towards you guys changes, I'm sure you'll somehow find a way to draw me back in."

"There has to be something we can do," Kirishima whimpered, eyes welling with tears. "We love you, we can't lose you like this."

"It's okay," you murmured.

"It's not!" Kirishima cried, sobbing.

"Hang on," Kaminari said, getting that considering look on his face. "What if we said we wanted the flowers?"

"Huh? You lost me," you admitted.

"You said that your body was growing these flowers for us, right?" Kaminari asked, then continued when you nodded. "Well, I want mine. I want to take all the flowers that you're growing for me."

You were about to tell him that that wasn't how it worked, but the flowers in your chest decided that now was the perfect time to eject themselves from your body.

You coughed and choked as a torrent of orange petals erupted from your lungs.

Just as one wave ended, another began.

Tears stung your eyes and your throat felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside out, and your chest was constricting so much you thought you might pass out.

Suddenly, something much bigger was being pushed out of your lungs and up your windpipe.

Bakugou was shouting for Recovery Girl and the other two were panicking and trying to assist.

There must've been a stem this time, you thought deliriously.

You couldn't get enough air in.

Just as your vision started to go fuzzy around the edges, someone was easing the flower out of your throat.

You hacked and coughed and sobbed as leaves and roots tore up your throat, but then there was air in your lungs and you could breath better than before.

You choked on the amount of air flowing into your lungs again and slumped over the side of the bed, panting.

You spit blood into the bucket by your bed.

"Um . . . this definitely isn't natural," Kirishima whimpered after everyone realized that you weren't dead and that you were no longer in danger of choking on another plant.

You managed to crack your eyes open enough to see that Kirishima was holding a sunflower plant almost as tall as he was.

The base was stocky and thick, with a wide system of roots.

It branched off into at least six different stems, each with an orange sunflower at the top.

You forced yourself to swallow and managed to croak out, "Kami said," before your voice gave out.

"That's right!" Kirishima cried. "Kami told her that he wanted all of the flowers that she was growing for him."

"I didn't think it would actually work though!" Kaminari cried.

Bakugou settled you back against the pillows of the bed, brushing hair away from your face as the world stopped spinning around you.

"Can we try it too?" Kirishima asked.

You knew that the question should've been directed at Recovery Girl, but he was looking at you.

You mimed writing something and Recovery Girl handed you a paper and a pen.

Maybe later, you wrote, I think if we tried it now I would die. I was barely able to stay conscious this time. More back to back and there might be permanent damage to my throat and/or lungs.

Kirishima nodded, but there was something shining in his eyes that made you wonder what he was thinking.

Think a kiss would help now? you scribbled out, showing it to Recovery Girl.

She gave you one, and you relaxed into the pillows, letting the boys ask her questions.

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

YOU FELT BETTER WHEN you woke up, though not by much.

Bakugou was asleep by the side of your bed, arms crossed under his head. His arms were pillowed by your thighs and you wondered how long he had been there.

You shifted a little, reaching a hand out to run your fingers through his hair.

"Hey Princess," Bakugou murmured, shifting to look at you, grinning softly.

"What time is it?" you croaked, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

"Little after five in the morning," he admitted, sitting up. "That one kiss took a lot out of you. Eiji and Denks went to bed at about one. I couldn't sleep so I thought I would stay down here in case anything happened."

"You mean you had a nightmare and instead of waking them up you came down here to feel useful in some way."

He didn't say anything but the blush on his cheeks gave him away.

"You didn't have to stay you know," you told him. "Just because of the whole Hanahaki thing-"

"It's not because of the fucking feeling flowers," he grunted. "I would've done this whether it was my fucking fault or not."

"I already told you guys," you snapped, "this is not your fault. You couldn't've stopped this."

"We should've told you sooner," he whispered.

"Should've told me what sooner?" you asked. "If you guys aren't comfortable being around because I'm in love with you, then you don't have to stick around."

"No, it's not that," Bakugou told you.

"What Katsuki is tryin' to say," Kaminari slurred, stumbling in, looking more exhausted than you, "is that we love you too. And we had been talking about asking you to join us."

"We were talking about approaching you about being our girlfriend, but then you suddenly started not wanting to go places with us and we were worried that we were making you uncomfortable," Kirishima added, rushing to make sure that Kaminari didn't crash into your bed.

Kaminari forwent the chair at the side of your bed and instead climbed onto the bed next to you.

Kirishima rolled his eyes fondly, sitting next to Bakugou.

"Yeah, what they said," Bakugou grumbled.

"You guys don't have to force yourselves to try and care about me like that," you said, frowning. "It doesn't do anybody any good and hurts everybody involved."

"How can we show you that we care about you like that?" Kirishima asked. "Please (Y/F/N)."

"Do I really seem like the kind of guy to lie about his feelings like this?" Bakugou interrupted. "And do you really think I would let these morons do something like this?"

"Kind of," you admitted. "You all care about people enough to try and do that. Besides, I thought you were all gay."

"Demi," Bakugou grunted.

"Pan!" Kirishima chirped.

"Bi, obviously," Kaminari murmured from where he was burrowing into your side.

You blinked, processing this new information.

You were about to respond but Recovery Girl waddled in.

"How are you feeling, hun?" she asked.

"About as good as can be expected I suppose," you said.

"I contacted the doctor that you originally spoke to and he said that the only way the flowers would've come out of your lungs would be because the person you were in love with said that they wanted them and because they were in love with you when they said it.

"That being said, these other two want to give it a try. We would need a small space between flowers of course, since they did a lot of damage to you on the way out, because of how far along you are, but it should work, if you're up for trusting them."

You glanced between the boys and sighed.

"Alright, let's give this a shot," you agreed. "I still have the surgery scheduled, so if it doesn't work I can still go in."

"It'll work. And when it does, will you believe us?" Kirishima asked.

"It'd be hard not to," you told him, "the facts are right there."

"Good. We can start whenever you're ready," Recovery Girl told you.

"Let's start now, I want this over with as soon as possible," you said.

"Understood," she agreed, grabbing three pairs of medical gloves, handing them to the boys. "You boys might need these."

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

Roughly nine hours later and you were panting as Kaminari gently lowered you onto the pillows of your bed.

"How are you feeling?" Recovery Girl asked.

Like I just threw up my intestines, but they were covered in thorns, you scribbled out. But I can breathe if that's what you meant.

"A few kisses and you'll be well on your way," she said, not seeming to mind your snark.

Bakugou snorted and Kaminari looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Do you want us to stay?" Kirishima asked.

You can if you want to, but I'm not going to force you to stay if you don't want to.

"Do you want us to stay?" Bakugou asked, exasperated.

You hesitated for nearly a minute before you glanced down at your lap, nodding.

But you can go back to class if you want to. I know you guys have been here for forever and that you have classes to catch up with, you scribbled out quickly.

"We ain't goin' anyway Princess," Bakugou said, flopping down into one of the chairs next to the bed.

"Besides, Aizawa gave us a pass this morning," Kaminari added.

"You want us to stay and we'll stay," Kirishima told you.

You were in the middle of writing something but Bakugou snatched the pad out of your hands.

"Just accept that you're stuck with us darlin'," Kirishima said, tossing it over his shoulder.

Kaminari hummed his agreement, crossing his arms over your legs so that he could lay his head on them.

"When this is all over, and you're good to go again, we're taking you out, for real this time," Bakugou told you, mimicking his blond boyfriend and the position you had found him in early this morning.

Kirishima followed suit and you ruffled their hair before you nodded to Recovery Girl, who have you two kisses.

You were out like a light.

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

"Darlin'," Eiji called over the din of the party that was going on around you. "Your mom wants to see our party trick!"

You laughed, handing the cookie platter to your little cousin, who giggled, trying to look inconspicuous.

You weaved through the people mulling around and found all three of your boyfriends talking with your family.

"Are we going to have to do this at your parents' house too, Katsuki?" you inquired, hands on your hips.

"Probably, the hag loves this stuff," he muttered, but his tone was fond.

"What are we doing at Katsuki's?" Denki asked, moving to drape himself over your back.

"Our party trick," you said and he laughed.

"I don't see a problem with it," Denki chuckled. "I think it's pretty hot."

"It is, but that doesn't mean that he should have to do it every time we go somewhere," you argued.

"I don't mind darlin', really, I think it's kind of fun," Eiji said, grinning.

"I find it humiliating," Katsuki grumbled.

"That's because you can't lift Eiji yet," you teased.

Katsuki's palms crackled but his eyes were soft when he looked at you.

"Are we doing this or what?" Denki asked.

Denki, Katsuki, and you all walked over to Eiji.

Katsuki was on Eiji's left while you and Denki were on the right.

Eiji then scooped all three of you up in his arms and your family cheered.

You giggled, wrapping your arm around Eiji's neck to stabilize yourself.

When he set you all down your little cousins, and even some of the older ones, were begging him to see how many he could lift at the same time.

"Why don't we try it next time?" you suggested, getting pouts and cries of injustice. "Think of it this way, the next time we see you all, he'll be even stronger and he'll be able to lift more of you than he can now!"

That soothed them for the moment, but some of the older ones glared at you, seeing through your compromise.

"You just want to keep him all to yourself!" one of them said as the others dispersed.

"But he's my boyfriend," you argued, "so I know him better than you do."

"But you have two others!" your little cousin retorted. "It's not fair."

Denki was crying from laughing so hard in the background, leaning on a chuckling Katsuki.

"They're definitely related to you, darlin'," Eiji teased, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing you softly.

Your little cousin whined in disgust and disappeared into the fray and you sighed in relief.

"You must remember what that was like when you were little, (Y/F/N)," your mother teased. "You were the same way."

"I was not!" you cried, cheeks heating up. "I only argued because people kept telling me 'that's just the way it is' and I wanted a real reason why."

"Aw, imagine how cute little Lightning Bug was," Denki cried and you glared at him.

Soon all three boyfriends were on you about it and you groaned.

"You're all so mean!" you whined.

"But you love us for it," Bakugou argued.

"I hate it when you're right," you muttered, sending them laughing.

It had taken a lot to get to this point, but it was worth it, you decided. They would always be worth it.

#bakukirikami #kamikiribaku #kiribakukami #bakukamikiri #kirikamibaku #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #kaminari x reader #katsuki x reader #eijirou x reader #denki x reader #bakukirikami x reader #poly #hanahaki au #hanahaki disease

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glassartpeasants · 3 years ago

Note

That ending was a stab on the heart from beginning to end I'm gonna steal bob 🏃🏾‍♀️

The One That Got Away

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, death

A/N: Don’t threaten Bob

~~~

The bed felt different after that night.

2 months ago you had caught Shigaraki cheating on you with someone random woman. You stood in the doorway just watching, trying to find the words to say but nothing came out. It’s only when you dropped your groceries and your present to him is when he noticed your presence.

*flashback*

“Shit! (Y/N) it’s not what it looks like-” He tripped over his words. You said nothing as you just looked at him, knowing that no matter how much you loved him that there was nothing that could ever make you forget this.

“Fuck just say something!” You were still silent as you dropped the groceries you were holding. It just wasn’t clicking for you. How could he do this to you? what had you done wrong?

“What did I do wrong?” Your voice seemed to echo throughout the room. Nobody said anything. Until she spoke up.

“Oh my god, Im so sorry! I didn’t know he was taken! Please forgive me.” The girl spoke as she jumped outta bed and started putting her clothes on.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Those words spilled from your mouth before you could actually say anything you meant. The girl had hugged you before saying she was so sorry a final time. Flipping off Shiggy on the way out.

“(Y/N)...i promise we can talk about this.” You just kept looking at him. Those eyes seemed to burn into his soul. He doesn’t think you noticed the tears spilling from your eyes. He was about to say something to you but you started to walk towards him. Thinking he was gonna get hit he just stood still before feeling your part of the bed dip.

He turns around to see you laying there, eyes still open with tears rushing down your face, your clothes of the day still on your body.

Shigaraki tried to put his arms around you but you had hit his hands back. and used your feet to push him to the edge of the bed while you laid clung to the wall.

*flashback over*

Thinking back on it you don’t know why you didn’t just walk away. Maybe you were to tired from being busy and running errands for him all day? Did you want it to be a bad dream and hope to walk up to realize nothing ever happened? Whatever the reason was, you weren’t sure but a part of you wishes that you left that night.

Now you sit at the bar, sitting far away from what use to be your boyfriend, not even taking a glimpse of him and he knew it. You just sat in the corner drinking and looking on your phone until a familiar smell approached you.

“Oh hey Dabi.”

“Hey there (Y/N), why aren’t you hanging out with crusty over there? He keeps staring at you and the tension in here could be cut with a knife. It’s been two months and apparently everyone said i should ask what's going on.”

“Im not going near him at the moment. We’re on a break per say.” this seemed to peak Dabi’s interest as he leaned closer.

“Oh? Did crusty do something? Your secret's safe with me, i swear on my soul.” What did it matter if you told Dabi? He already doesn’t respect Shigaraki so why not, plus, so what if that fuck didn’t want anyone knowing, he shouldn’t have cheated when everyone else was sleeping in the base.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you but, 2 months ago I caught Shigaraki cheating on me...” You felt small tears prickle the corner of your eyes. Bringing your hand up to your face you rub it away, hoping to ignore the pain that was banging against your chest.

“What a dick, wanna make him pay?” You look up at Dabi who had a huge grin on his face. You thought about it for a good few seconds before shaking each others hand.

“Once Shigaraki goes out on that mission today, we’ll talk more.” Dabi said before getting up from his seat and grabbing a drink from the bar.

You didn’t know what Dabi had planned but you hoped it would bring Shigaraki the same pain you felt that fateful night 2 months ago.

~~~

You sat on the ground in Dabi’s room as he paced back in forth, coming up with revenge plans. All of them sucked or ended up with you guys might going to Jail.

“New plan, everytime Shigaraki wants to hang out tell him you had plans with me and leave the room. You can go somewhere and i’ll go somewhere with you. Effectively ditching him.” Thinking, you try to come up with all the pros and cons this proposal Dabi shared with you. But soon your hurt over ruled the logical side of you and you agreed to it not a moment later.

“Great! Now all we need is for Shigaraki to ask to hang out with you. Don’t know how long that’ll take though...”

“I usually ignore him after what happened but sometimes he asks to hang out with me whenever its a slow day at the base or if he’s bored.”

“ Well guess we have to wait tell then huh?” Nodding your head, you get up before putting a thumbs up in his direction. You walked out of his room and see Shigaraki sitting at the bar. He must have finished his mission early. You rolled your eyes before sitting on the other side of the bar counter. You could feel shigaraki look at you through father.

“Hey....”

“.....”

“Look im sorry, a-and i know that doesn’t excuse what I did but please-” You got up before he could finishing his sentence as you walked towards your shared bedroom. Going in there use to give you comfort but now everytime you step into that room you see that fateful night over and over again.

You sat on the bed before hearing Shigaraki’s footsteps coming towards the room. Furrowing your brows, you ignore him as you put your shoes on. You needed a little bit of fresh air so you were planning on going to the local park to relax a bit. You weren’t a villain like the rest of them, you were just a simple civilian. Not that you minded really. It was peaceful not fearing for your life everyday and having the fear of failure not on your shoulders.

You didn’t really have a quirk so you just ignored the questions when people asked you if you had one.

“Can I talk to you?” You were dragged back to reality when Shigaraki’s voice rang through your ears. Annoyed you just answered hoping that the conversation would be short.

“What do you want?” You voice was snappy and you could feel the venom dripping from it.

“I understand that your mad. And you have every right to be but your not even giving me a chance to redeem myself and-”

“Redeem yourself? Why the hell would I do that? YOU cheated on ME. LIke hell im gonna forgive you so easily.”

“It’s been two months! What happened was in the past!”

“It was in the past my ass. How would you like it to see your lover in bed with another?!”

“I-”

“I felt like my soul died that day. I thought I was your only one! Only to find out that you slept with her! Was she a one time thing or were there more hookups?!” You stood up from the bed as your fists turned white and your anger slowly erupting.

“.....”

“TELL ME DAMNIT!”

“Three...there were three different occasions...” Now the tears were kicking in. You were hoping that it wasn’t true. What if there was more and he was only saying three just to ease your heart?

“Why? Why would you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?” Your questions were like knives stabbing into Shigaraki’s heart. He wanted to tell you the truth, but he didn’t want your heart to hurt more than it already was.

“Im not going to ask again Shigaraki. You either tell me the truth or I will walk out of this base and never come back.”

“The...the first time it was a drunk accident, the second time Dabi had brought her to the base and one thing led to another. The last one was the same as the second one.”

“Did...did Dabi know about the affair?” You were begging, no pleading for him not to have known. You didn’t know if your heart could take it.

“Yes...” That was it. That was the thing that broke you. Walking up to Shigaraki you pushed past him before flipping him off and saying one final line.

“I would rather die that ever be with you again.” And with that, you left the hideout. You speed walked through the alleys to get to you parked your car. Your friends house was pretty far and you didn’t feel like walking in the dead of night were criminal activity was more active.

Getting in your car, you turn on the radio and start breaking down. Your tears were blurring your eyesight as you put the car in drive.

The streets weren’t busy except for the occasion car with some college students. Or drunk people walking along the sidewalk. The sound of the radio blasting songs that were supposed to be happy barley brightened up your mood as you drove down the dark highways.

All of a sudden a bright light hit your eyes from the right side. Some fuck must have had their brights on. But you had the right away so you went. All of a sudden a huge crash rang through your ears and the world became dark.

~~~

A ring came from Shigaraki’s phone. Looking at the clock he noticed it to be 2am. Annoyed he just decided to answer it.

“Hello, this is (hospital name). You were listed under a emergency contact for (Y/N) (L/N).” Shigaraki jolted awake as his hands reached his neck, standing up and already begun to pace the floor of his room.

“Yes did something happen?!”

“At 12am tonight miss (Y/N) was in a car crash. A hit and run to be exact. Their car was totalled after it rolled about 3 times from the speed that the driver hit them. A bystander of the accident called 119. They were in need of surgery immediately once paramedics noticed that they were crushed and bleeding out quickly due to a shard of glass that was stabbed in their chest.”

“Are they okay?!” The doctor on the other end went silent.

“Im deeply sorry for your lost sir. They died during surgery trying to remove the glass that was lodged in their skin. The police are on the look for the suspect. if you wish to see them were on (blank street). Once again, im sorry for your loss. Goodnight sir.” The phone went silent as the doctor hung up.

Everything seemed to stop as the feared villain feel to his knees. Tears fell from his eyes as his body shook. He realized that now it was impossible to even try. And the last words you had ever said were ‘ you’d rather die than ever be with him again.’ Crying into his hands as his tears made a puddle on the floor.

I guess you took your words seriously.

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #tomura shigaraki angst #:)

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years ago

Note

Are you still taking prompts?

Cause if so, I'd love to see a time travel fic where post-canon WWX and LWJ get yeeted back into their younger bodies, and land just before the GC transfer. And Post-Canon WWX - who's had some years of being a part of a loving, supportive family, in a non-toxic, non-abusive environment; and therefore no longer has any misconceptions about how much the Jiangs were not his family - takes one look at JC lying there on the table in the cave after WQ knocked him out (and is now in the middle of prepping for surgery); and just goes, "LOL, yeah; nope.😆 Been there, done that; 10/10, would not recommend.😝 Hey, WQ - change of plans!😎"

(Except, you know, not written like crack. 😉)

Not necessary to include, but a fun idea:

JC gets dragged along to the past as well because he has WWX's GC; so whatever sent them back mistook him for part of WWX and brought him along.

So when he wakes up from the anaesthesia, he freaks out about not having a GC anymore. And WWX has this whole story ready to tell young JC about how, "Oops, sorry; you can't have a new GC after all" - but this is Post-Canon JC; so he knows about the transfer, and knows that this means that WWX decided not to do it again.

Which means he ends up screaming at WWX about, "How dare you not give me your GC!"

So WWX feels exactly zero sympathy.

(Before that happened he was maybe feeling a little bit bad for young JC; because that JC hadn't done anything too bad yet - but he already knew how it would turn out if he went through with it. And he was not giving up his chance to cultivate to immortality with his hubby; just so that JC could Feel Like A Real Man, and go on to murder his way through life again.)

What would be really, really great about this, is if WWX had brought JC to Qinghe or Gusu; or somewhere the other cultivation sects involved in the SSC had gathered, before JC woke up. Planning to leave him there where he would be safe. So when JC wakes up and starts screaming, everybody hears him.

And they're all like, "...WUT."🤤

"You expected him to do what?!?"😲😨😱

So instead of all the sympathy and compassion, etc, that he would have gotten over what happened at LP (that he probably did get the first time), or for losing his GC; basically the entire allied cultivation world as a whole is collectively side-eyeing him.

IDK; I just think it would be really funny.

But mainly, I just want to see WWX a few years post-canon; having the chance to do it all again, and choosing not to go through with the GC transfer. LWJ going with him is because the thought of post-canon LWJ losing his WWX makes me sad; and I want them to stay together. 😋

Post-Canon JC going back and getting stuck with the coreless body he deserved is just for my own catharsis.

(The rest of that idea is simply for the lulz.) 😉

(I decided not to include JC traveling back in time. Hope this works and satisfies you!)

“No, I don’t.” Wei Wuxian sees Wen Qing blink and stare at him while Wen Ning stills in the process of making Jiang Cheng comfortable.

“What?” Wen Qing asks but rethinks it immediately, “No, no need to answer that.” She starts packing away her instruments immediately like she’s glad that Wei Wuxian has changed his mind. He looks at her and feels aching fondness rise in his chest. She must be frustrated that he made her go through all of that trouble and yet she still chooses to move before he can change his mind again.

“What… are we going to tell Jiang-gongzi?” Wen Ning asks tentatively but Wei Wuxian notes the faint look of relief in the boy’s eyes.

“We’ll tell him the treatment wasn't possible,” He says, glancing at his… former shidi. It isn’t an easy decision to make, because he knows Jiang Cheng would suffer for it. A part of him feels like he’s being unnecessarily cruel by denying Jiang Cheng his core.

But he has already paid his debt and it cost countless people their lives. Jiang Cheng’s actions didn’t just lead to the death of the Wens. Lan Zhan had told him about the numerous ‘demonic cultivators’ Jiang Cheng had pursued relentlessly. Even his love wasn’t certain how many people died or were tormented to insanity because of Jiang Cheng’s persistence.

While Wei Wuxian doesn’t intend to let the situation get so out of hand, it is apparent that Jiang Cheng can’t be trusted with power.

He is worried about how Jiang Cheng would react. Wei Wuxian had promised him a core, after all. But whatever happens, a powerless Jiang Cheng is safer for everyone.

“We’ll tell him that rebuilding the core is impossible because Wen Zhuliu destroyed his meridians as well.”

“He has,” Wen Qing points out, “I was about to repair them.”

Wei Wuxian frowns, “And can you repair them still? Without transferring the core?” That would certainly help Jiang Cheng heal faster and accept some spiritual energy transfusions. Wen Qing looks at Jiang Cheng with a frown and nods.

“Wei-gongzi… what changed your mind?” Wen Ning asks as Wen Qing goes to work immediately. Wei Wuxian knows that if he has to help the Wens, he needs to tell them the truth. While Wen Ning would trust him and accept his explanation without too many questions, Wen Qing wouldn’t be so easy.

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, getting his thoughts in order. When he opens them again, both of the Wens are looking at him with frowns.

He grins wryly and spreads his hands, "I have a tale for you, my dear friends."

Jin Guangyao needed to have his last 'hurrah'. He just couldn't leave them be, even as he died. Whatever he did, whatever tool he used, it sent a shockwave of Resentful Energy that would've killed them all.

As always, Wei Wuxian stepped forward to protect people. As always, Lan Wangji stepped forward to protect him.

Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth and changed his plan at the last moment. At first, he wanted to absorb the energy and channel it somewhere else. But with so many people just lingering instead of running, he needed a different solution.

His mind flashed, he saw Jiang Cheng, and decided.

A forbidden array formed.

"I needed something that would use up all of the Resentful Energy and protect everyone, including Lan Zhan."

"So, at the last moment and on the verge of dying, you chose something as improbable as time travel." Wen Qing deadpans. Wen Ning is looking at him with wide eyes. Strangely enough, both look like they believe him. Well, he did mention a few things, personal incidents, that he had no way of knowing if the Wens hadn't told him.

Still.

"I'm not the one for regrets," He says softly as he looks at Jiang Cheng, "But I thought that array was the safest solution. It doesn't harm the current timeline so everyone is safe. Lan Zhan, I know, wouldn't mind following my lead in this." He did regret taking Zewu-jun's brother away from him after such a traumatic event but there really was no other option. Not with Jin Ling so close and so many innocent people in the vicinity.

Wei Wuxian is quite certain that the blast would've destroyed everything around them, including the innocent people around the Guanyin Temple complex.

The siblings exchange glances before Wen Qing returns to Jiang Cheng's side, preparing to work on his meridians, "You're going to change things." She observes, "Save people?"

"Save you and Wen Ning. Save Jiang Yanli. Save innocents, yes."

Wen Qing freezes.

---

Lan Wangji doesn't know what Wei Ying did but he trusts his beloved. When he finds himself in the past, just before the Sunshot Campaign begins and shortly after the fall of the Lotus Pier, he doesn't hesitate.

He knows that his brother is safe and his uncle is managing things at Cloud Recesses. But he also knows that somewhere out there, his beloved is preparing himself for a risky, painful procedure.

Wangji can't let that happen. He thinks back on everything Wen Ning shared with him about the incident, particularly the location of where it occurred. He's probably too late to stop the transfer but perhaps not late enough to stop the Wens from finding Wei Ying.

It takes him days to reach Yiling without the aid of Bichen but he manages and immediately heads towards the approximate location Wen Ning had mentioned.

"Wei Ying," He breathes softly when he spots his beloved shopping for some supplies. He hadn't anticipated finding him so soon but is grateful nonetheless.

Wei Ying is dressed like a peasant and blends in well with the people around him but Wangji can recognize him anywhere.

Dressed discreetly and without his forehead ribbon, Wangji too is inconspicuous. He moves swiftly towards Wei Ying and catches his elbow, eyeing the people in red and white uniform at the far end of the street warily.

"Come." He whispers.

Wei Ying doesn't say a word, just paying the vendor and following Wangji into a more discreet location.

Wangji looks at his beloved's face, drinking in his bright silver eyes and sharp features with acute relief.

"Wei Ying, you… you look well." Strangely so, for someone who has just given up his Golden Core.

Hope stirs in his chest and Wangji reaches for Wei Ying's wrist.

His love's lips quirk in amusement, but Wangji ignores him, focusing on sending his spiritual energy through Wei Ying's meridians.

A strong core pulses in response.

"Wei Ying," Something bright and triumphant burns in his chest and he resists the urge to pull his beloved into a crushing embrace.

He would've supported Wei Ying's decision to give up his core and cultivate with resentful energy again. He knew it wasn't evil or harmful now.

But Wei Ying chose himself. His beloved had finally chosen to save himself.

"Aiya, Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying laughs, "If you keep looking at me like that, I'll do something quite shameless and embarra-"

Wangji kisses him.

He cups that precious face, pulls him close, and slides his lips over soft flesh in a tender expression of love he can't contain.

Wei Ying chose himself.

---

Jiang Cheng returns from his trip to the mountain with a thunderous expression on his face.

He disregards Lan Zhan and grabs Wei Wuxian's arm in a tough grip, dragging him away from the crowded tea house. Lan Zhan follows without a word, his expression frosty and eyes on Jiang Cheng.

"Your Grandmaster," He spits, "Is just as useless and worthless as you. All she could do is repair my meridians! My body was too damaged for anything else, she said!"

Wei Wuxian knows Wen Qing wrote the note they left by Jiang Cheng's side but he hadn't known what she had written.

It must've been reasonably convincing for Jiang Cheng to be convinced.

"That's-" He searches his mind to find words that would be appropriately sympathetic. Saying 'that's too bad' would be just rubbing salt on an open wound.

He may dislike Jiang Cheng, but some of the childhood affection still lingers. He doesn't wish to hurt his former shidi.

"I didn't know," He says finally, his heart throbbing in sympathy at Jiang Cheng's devastated expression. He briefly reconsiders his decision but Lan Zhan shifts discreetly by his side and Wei Wuxian remembers why he made that decision in the first place.

Jiang Cheng had been unworthy of the gift he had been given.

His shidi snarls and turns to Lan Zhan, "What are you doing here, Lan er-gonzi," He snarls, "Coming to triumph in our misery?"

Lan Zhan looks at him flatly, "I came to assist Wei Ying."

"Came to assist Wei Ying," Jiang Cheng mocks, his expression tight and furious, "Well, you're welcome to take him away! There's nothing left for him to destroy. Everything is gone. He invited the wrath of the Wens on our heads to protect you and that led to the destruction of my sect. He couldn't even repay that debt. His Grandmaster failed."

Jiang Cheng turns hate-filled eyes towards him, "You are a curse. My father should have left you to rot on the streets!"

"Jiang Wanyin!" Lan Zhan warns but Wei Wuxian places a hand on the Second Jade's arm to halt him.

"I'm taking you to Meishan to be with shijie." Wei Wuxian says calmly, "And then I'll go join the war efforts."

Jiang Cheng sneers before turning his head away, silent.

Wei Wuxian does as he says. He leaves Jiang Cheng in Jiang Yanli's care and heads to Qinghe with Lan Zhan. The war goes differently than before. He manages to kill Wen Zhuliu and Wen Chao early, which gives them a big morale boost. But that's the only thing that goes their way for a long time.

"I'm going to use it," He tells Lan Zhan once, when the scales tip dangerously in the Wen's favor.

Lan Zhan studies him before nodding gracefully, "I will help."

There's no way to avoid using his cultivation method, not if he wants to keep people safe. He's more careful and restrained this time and he doesn't create the Yīn Hǔ Fú. But Mo Dao is Mo Dao. It attracts disapproval from people regardless.

Wei Wuxian doesn't care and Lan Zhan stays by his side without paying any heed to the grumblings of his clan. He goes to sleep every night with Lan Zhan's guqin notes in his ear and meditates every morning with the Cleansing purging the Resentful Energy from his body.

With a powerful and active Golden Core, Wei Wuxian can't use Mo Dao liberally without risking Qi Deviation. But he uses enough to help them win the war.

Wei Wuxian successfully retakes Lotus Pier and Yunmeng from the Wens. Jiang Cheng's hatred doesn't diminish and even Jiang Yanli grows distant after a while. Jiang Cheng's suffering and downfall hardens something in his soft shijie.

Wei Wuxian accepts that consequence quietly.

He hands Lotus Pier back to Jiang Cheng and stays on the front lines, leaving most of the freshly recruited disciples behind to protect his former martial siblings. When the war ends, argues to keep the Wen cultivators in better conditions. He makes sure everyone knows how much the Jiangs owe the Wen siblings, and saves the children and elderly.

With Jiang Cheng out of the Cultivation World and Wei Wuxian's reputation as a war hero, saving the Wen remnants is easier than it had been before.

---

Everyone is baffled when Jiang Wanyin names a new head disciple and Wei Wuxian never returns to Yunmeng. People gossip, sect leaders question, and new Jiang disciple flounder.

Neither Jiang Wanyin nor Wei Wuxian confirms it but it is clear to everyone that the Jiang Sect has, foolishly, kicked out its most powerful disciple. YunmengJiang remains wealthy but the Sect's influence diminishes significantly once Wei Wuxian leaves.

Other Sects, big and small, scramble to find Wei Wuxian, ready to offer him a place and get a powerful cultivator in their ranks. Letters pour in promising wealth and prestige.

Wei Wuxian ignores them all and settles in Cloud Recesses. He's content to teach a group of eye-wide Lan ducklings now to deal with resentful energy and limit the risk of Qi Deviation. He takes them on Nighthunts, teaches them real-life lessons, encourages creativity, and becomes a well-loved senior.

New YunmengJiang disciples aren't near as strong as their predecessors without someone to teach them properly.

People gossip and speculate as the years pass. They hint that he is wrong to leave his former sect behind but he doesn't care.

Wei Wuxian has Lan Zhan and Lan Sizhui. Wen Qing and Wen Ning live happily in a small farming village not far from Gusu. They intervene before Jin Guangyao kills Nie Mingjue. They save Lan Xichen from heartache. Jin Ling is born and has both of his parents.

That's all he needs to be happy.

YunmengJiang is no longer his responsibility.

#short prompts #time travel au #wei wuxian #lan wangji #no golden core transfer #anti jiang cheng

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lieutenant-simp · 4 years ago

Text

Protecting You Is All I know How To Do

Shield Powered Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warning: Mentions of childhood trauma, beatings, injuries. Angst. Little fluff at end.

Request: YES :))))

Summary: Protecting Wanda was all you knew, she was your rock and you were hers.

Not my Gif

A/N: This is my first request, so this is a big deal! This was not proofread but I really enjoyed writing this.

Words: 1,508

Your powers were the cause of all your problems, the damage to your health, to your head, the trauma they caused you never wanted to use them. When you first got to HYDRA, you were taken, no given. Your parents trusted some men in suits because they were too messed up to care about anyone but themselves. They wanted money, power and the men promised everything and more to them. You don't know what happened to them after you left, but you hope whatever it was, was worse than anything you'd been subjected to.

Every day, like clockwork, you were taken to a small dark room, had serum after serum injected into you. Test after test to see what happened to you, nothing worked, until it did. You were upset, you were tired of them beating you, they blamed you for their serums not working, and you just put your hands out. They were blasted to the other side of the room, the force from your shield launching them back. Once again, they blamed you for not finding out your powers sooner. All your tests came back normal, and they didn't know which serum made you this way. The beatings only got worse from there.

Now that you had powers, you were bound, you didn't want to cooperate. You became numb, numb from the pain. They beat you no matter what. No matter if you cooperated or not. All you could do than pass the time was to be in your head. It was your safe place. When you were subjected to their beatings, you went inside your head to distract yourself. You never felt alone there. You had imagined a new life, one with your parents, what might've happened if they weren't such deadbeats. You imagined love. You imagined anything and everything. Your head was the place that made you sane.

"Hey, I hear your thoughts are you there?” You hear a voice in your head, you look around your room. The men had already left, where was it coming from. You laugh, you're finally going crazy from being alone. “I am your cellmate, I can hear you, you're not crazy”

“You can hear me? How?” You were definitely crazy now. There was no one here.

“I have powers, I can read and communicate with others in my mind.” Ah, that makes sense, you were alone in the corridor, clearly, it was made for those with powers, and you were the first successful one and now they had found another.

“How long have you been here?” You heard her sigh inside your mind, “I just got here, my parents, they uh, they passed away recently and well turns out twin orphans with powers travels around,” You sympathize with her, you want her to not feel alone anymore. She was the only one you had anymore.

“You have a twin?” You hear her laugh, “Yeah, he’s like me, he has powers too, but he can’t read minds. Do you have powers?” You hesitate to open up to her, afraid of everyone but she seems comfortable, at least in your head, you are relaxed, you’re not afraid.

Quickly you became friends, her name was Wanda, and she told you about her family. Her twin brother, you could talk to through Wanda, he was nice, witty, and he also became your friend. She would tell you often about her life before HYDRA. You both had created plans, plans to escape, plans for what you'd do after you got out, but you never followed through. Sometimes it was nice to wonder. Wanda was your age, young, and she was new. You once heard her cry about the same men that tortured you. To escape the beatings from them, you'd create a shield surrounding her. She told you when they came in, and you had shared the world inside your head with her to go to, it kept her distracted. When they saw the shield, it would distract them from her as they would march over to you and hurt you instead. You needed Wanda, she was your friend, your closest friend. After some time you would do the same with her brother.

You still despised using your powers, you could've easily used them to shield yourself instead, but you couldn't. You were scared of them, but Wanda and her brother needed you, they needed you to protect them.

After Ultron, when Pietro died, you were crushed. Your job was to protect the twins. Thankfully Wanda was okay, You felt as if your purpose was to protect them, and you failed. Wanda leaned on you, and you leaned on her. His death wasn't easy on either of you.

You join the Avengers the same time Wanda did, you didn't want to leave her side and she didn't want you to leave hers. You both still communicated inside your head, it was a comfort you both could only get from each other. When you went on missions you both were paired together, you protected her. You didn't give a damn about what happened to you, but the first time you were injured, changed your perspective.

Wanda was in the waiting room, waiting for you to come out of surgery, the bullet was lodged in your stomach. Wanda needed you, as much as you need her. She loved you, she always had. She had a crush on you the moment she talked to you. You, on the other hand, had never really got to experience those emotions, you had pushed them down but you did love Wanda too. You were her rock, her protector. A tough egg to crack to everyone else, but to her, you were soft. You held her when she cried, and she would hold you. Your rooms were next to each other, but you usually ended up sleeping in the same room.

When you were ready to receive visitors, she was there in an instant. She held your hand and waited, prayed for you to wake up. And you did. You woke up to her hand in yours. You opened your eyes to see a scratch on her head. You reached over a brushed your hand against it. She looked at you softly, a small smile on her face, her eyes full of tears. You could tell by the look on her face, the injury took a toll on her, it caused her pain. The pain you tried every day to avoid, to help her with.

You realized, to protect her you had to protect yourself. How were you supposed to help her if you were dead or unconscious or just unable to. You didn't want to lose her, she's already lost so much. You knew she could probably hear you because squeezed your hand softly, before you hear her soft voice inside your head.

"I need you moya lyubov, I need you here with me" You smile at her softly, your hand reaching up to hold her face, your thumb drawing lazy circles across her skin. Your actions say all the words you can’t say. "Can I ask you a question printsessa," you nod your head, "Why me?" You obviously look confused because she continues, "Every time on missions, I am the only one unharmed, the others, they have bruises and black eyes. We both know how many gunshot wounds have been had between all of them. I don't get that experience, you only use your powers to protect me." You think for a minute pondering, you didn't protect the others. They chalked it up to you both knowing each other longer. But you look at your interlocked hands, you thought of the way your heart raced with Wanda. You loved her, the realization hit you like a truck.

"Because I love you Wands, I always have. I can't stand seeing you hurt if I could do something about it." You look up at her, no words had to be spoken as she leaned in and kissed you. Your hand stayed at her face as she pulled you closer. The kiss said a lot of words between you two, years of love that has been saved between you.

Its been two years since that day, you and Wanda have decided to move in together a few months after that. But today is your anniversary. This day 2 years ago, you asked Wanda to be your girlfriend. You had asked Nat for help then, and you're asking Nat now.

“Please Nat, you know her so well, do I get this ring,” You paused to show her a picture before showing her another one a moment later, “or this one?” You heard her sigh.

“Y/N, you have been dating for a couple years, and have known each other countless before that, you know her better than me!” You sigh, she's right but that didn't make your decision easier.

“I just want this to be perfect Nat, it's not every day you ask the love of your life to marry you.”

#wanda maximov #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #wanda maximov x reader #wanda maximov x y/n #wanda maximov x you #maximoff #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff fluff

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zorilleerrant · 3 years ago

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The thing about Lazarus pits is that they don’t heal what’s beneficial.

This is why people can go in and come out with their tattoos, piercings, and bottom surgery intact. Medical treatment, too – no one’s grown back their wisdom teeth or had their tubes untied, no one’s lost the pins in their arms or the shunt at the back of their skull. So it’s not a surprise when Jason’s surgical scars, the ones meant to fold him open and piece him back together, the ones sewn closed over the broken Robin’s wing and prayer, never went away.

This is news to Jason, the first time he comes out of the Pit. Of course, everything is news to Jason in those early days, just come back to his senses and trying to fit back together the disjoint memories of his old life and the fog of a lifetime that belonged to someone else, after he came back but before he returned, trying to figure out what does and doesn’t make him Jason. So, yes, the scars are new. Everything is new.

It’s a while before he gets ahold of himself. While he’s busy doing that, every single scar feels like a mistake, and half the time he’s not sure whether it’s his or someone else’s. Then, for a while, he wears his scars like badges of honor, terrifying and impressing in turns, and that doesn’t quite feel real, either.

He comes home, eventually. Jason comes home eventually, and he walks into his old room in his old house, and looks around like he knows where he is, and spends the night there. He flees before morning. He can’t be who he was, no matter how much everyone expects him to be. No matter how much he expected himself to be, moments before walking in the door, as if everything that came between could be cast aside. Put away in a neat little box.

He doesn’t spend any time around the family for a while, after that.

It’s just that – and this never bothered him before – when he looks in the mirror? He can’t even look at his hair where he doesn’t always manage to dye that streak away, where he looks his death in the face every morning and tries to laugh. Because now it’s caught on that Y-incision that adorns his chest that he never really thought about, because why would he?

He died. He knew that. He died and Dick found a new brother to actually love. He died and Tim wormed his way into a legacy that Jason built. He died and Alfred cleaned all traces of him from the house, as if he’d never been there. He died and Bruce didn’t change anything, just kept going the way he had with Jason by his side. As if he hadn’t even noticed Jason was gone.

And he did notice. He noticed. Jason knows that, even on the days he doesn’t believe it, but the thing is. That means that. Well. He died. He died and Dick lost his mind hoping to make it right with the family and the villains and the universe. He died and Tim tried desperately to fill that vacuum so Gotham didn’t die with him. He died and Alfred wept in an empty kitchen, unable to make dinner for another night in a row. He died and Bruce held fast to Batman, refusing to be sundered from one last tie to Jason, to let murder take every part of him.

Jason knows. It’s just that the bridge between what happened where Jason was and where Jason wasn’t is a step too much for him to take, and he can’t see his own death anymore. Just the holes it left in everyone else’s lives.

Jason knows, also, that this isn’t an autopsy scar. There would have been no reason for it. Bruce knew what happened almost as well as Jason does. But clear as he can see his own grave whenever his eyes clench shut, he can see Bruce’s hands, methodical and without the slightest tremor, cataloguing every cut and scrape and bruise. Marking down on his little paper chart where every single injury lies. Scraping blood and dirt and desperation out from under Jason’s fingernails, and then, only then, turning to his neat and shining tray and liberating a scalpel.

Jason can see his father pulling open his chest, folding him apart like a Viking failing one last test, because oh, how he would’ve screamed. It’s backwards, here; he’s lying down, unrestrained, as his bones are pried apart, and he’s ever silent, no chance of ever slipping up. Bruce’s golden child, perfect one last time. He would’ve screamed if he could.

There was no autopsy. There was no need. And still, Jason can see his father weighing organs with perfect clarity, his heart cradled in gentle, calloused hands. He can see, too, Bruce closing him back up again, looping stitch after careful stitch, a perfect, delicate Y like the one forming on his father’s lips as he blinks back tears.

It was never for his death to impart any meaning. It was after his life returned to him, to keep it there; this is the mark of a beginning and not the ending of things. And still. All he can ever picture is what another missing link does to a family. At least, when he looks at his hair, he can remember the pain of knowing the rest of the chain was out there, waiting for him to find them again. That scar begins to mean life. Clawing his way back into it, yes, but.

He clawed his way up and out once. Hands to guide him, hands to heal, and they leave him with something ugly. Not his own mortality, but his family’s grief confronts him every time he tries to assess how he’s changed. How he’s grown. He clawed his way up and out again and again finding his way back here. But the mark of his rescuers might drown him.

#look i said something #my writing #fanfic #batman #batfam #jason todd #gore tw #I commented an ao3 link if anyone prefers that

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handwrittenhello · 3 years ago

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1+64+81 geraskefer?

1. Historical AU + 64. Star-Crossed Lovers + 81. The Missus and the Ex

oooh okay so i’m thinking Victorian era or maybe a bit later, early 1900s. Jaskier belongs to a very high society family, old money. Geralt is the stableboy/groundskeeper, and young teenage Jaskier is just fascinated by him. They have a quick but deeply-burning relationship, entirely secret, of course. His parents and peers would never approve. It has to end, though, when Jaskier goes off to university—Jaskier promises to come back and marry Geralt, but Geralt doubts that it’ll actually happen. Either he’ll find someone else at uni and fall head over heels in love like he does, or he’ll come back to his parents trying to arrange a more respectable marriage. Their last goodbye devolves into a fight—why can’t Jaskier see the inevitable? Why can’t Geralt believe in hope, just a little?

Jaskier leaves the next morning, absolutely miserable, but spitefully determined to have the absolute best time at uni (and probably sleep with more people than he can count, all in an effort to forget Geralt). All is going well, or as well as it can—until Jaskier receives a telegram from his parents. They’ve found a wife for him—she’s new money, and a little unconventional—believes in such silly things as women’s rights—but with rumors of his sexual deviance getting around, she’s the best they could do.

Yennefer and Jaskier are married in the summer, quite unhappily. He’s being all but forced into it—the threat of being cast out, penniless and homeless, hangs over his head. She’s using him as a means to an end—women have so little power in this world, and she’s determined to take as much of it as she can get, even if that means marrying a strange man to take advantage of him and his money and status.

Jaskier’s parents give the (un)happy couple quite the wedding gift—an estate of their own, complete with staff. Complete with a stableman. Complete with Geralt, actually, because the universe hates Jaskier, apparently. A few very miserable months ensue, where Geralt pines after Jaskier and Jaskier pines after Geralt and Yennefer starts sleeping with Geralt because her husband is too depressed to get it up. Everyone feels pretty horrible about the situation, really.

It all comes to a head when Jaskier, heading home from the pub and too drunk to drive safely, wraps his car around a tree. He’s in pretty bad shape—both Geralt and Yennefer show up to the hospital, though. They’ve both realized—neither could bear to lose one third of this strange relationship they’ve found themselves in. They discuss it while Jaskier recovers from emergency surgery—perhaps they could make this strange arrangement work, so that Geralt and Jaskier don’t have to pine from afar anymore and Geralt and Yennefer can sleep together without feeling guilty and Yennefer and Jaskier can stop resenting each other for having exactly what the other wants.

Jaskier almost thinks he’s died and gone to heaven when he wakes up. He refuses to believe it at first—an end to all their problems, just like that? But Geralt and Yennefer are dead serious. They fall into a new rhythm, once Jaskier is out of the hospital, and actually find themselves flourishing. They still have to keep up appearances, of course—functionally Yennefer and Jaskier are a very devoted husband and wife, who are so very kind and friendly to their staff. It’s only at night that it’s safe to fall into each others’ arms and love freely.

...aaaand i may have to write this now. thanks grey skdhdhsj

(send me a trope mashup!)

#the witcher #geraskefer #geraskier #yennskier #yenskier #yenralt #ask game #witcher #greyduckgreygoose

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silkling · 3 years ago

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Could you please write a crossover of Rescue Bots and TFP? Rather than dying on the Nemesis, a critically injured Dreadwing fleas and crash lands on Griffin Rock. The Rescue Bots find him and nurse him back to health, not realizing he’s a Decepticon because his markings got scratched up in the fight. Dreadwing wakes up while the Rescue Bots are trying to contact Team Prime, but can’t since, unbeknownst to them, they’re all on Cybertron, fighting the Cons for the Omega Keys and Omega Lock.

So, this one turned out to be much, much longer than I thought. So long, in fact, that I had to divide it into three posts. The second post will be linked at the bottom of this one, and the third will be linked at the bottom of the second. Dear god, apparently I had a lot of more thoughts about Rescue Bots than even I was aware of. Oh well. Either way, I hope everyone enjoys! (FYI: most prompt fills will not be this long. This one was just so long cause I have many emotions and ideas about this scenario.)

———————————————————————————————————

Dreadwing felt the betrayal of Lord Megatron as surely as if it were just as physical a wound as the hole blown through his chest. He had heard the weapon powering up, and his war-forged battle instincts had had him diving to the side just as the fusion canon had fired. It has still torn though his chest, but rather than destroy his spark chamber the blast had torn a hole straight through the right side of his chest near his shoulder. He lived yet, but if he could not escape the Nemesis that would not be the case for much longer.

He had served Lord Megatron with loyalty and honor for millennia, ever since he and his brother had joined the Decepticons after Vos had fallen. Dreadwing had sold his very spark to the Unmaker to act on the wishes and orders of his leader, and this is what his loyalty had earned him? Megatron attempting to offline him, and protecting the mech who had desecrated his brother? The same mech who had, countless times before, betrayed Megatron himself? Dreadwing could scarcely understand it. Why would Megatron spare Starscream, who had given the warlord no true loyalty, when Dreadwing himself had been nothing but loyal? Is this what his loyalty bought him, among the Decepticons? Dishonorably killed solely for attempting to avenge his brother by killing a traitorous coward?

If so, he wanted nothing to do with it.

He dragged himself down the halls, finally making it to the flight deck, and looked down to see the ship flying above the ocean. Rather than attempt a proper take off, he simply pitched his body forward off the edge and allowed himself to fall. As he neared the water, he forced a transformation, ignoring the agony of the action, and his engine roared to life. Lucid thought slipped away, then, as baser survival coding took over and guided him away from the warship, away from danger, away from what would have been his death.

Only one thing was certain, now.

In attacking Dreadwing to protect Starscream, Megatron had lost the loyalty of his most devoted frontline warrior.

Dreadwing simply refused to follow a mech who would protect the one who desecrated his brother.

And so, survival protocols overriding every other thought or higher system, the large Seeker allowed his higher processor functions to shut off. His mind quieted to blissful silence. Instinct alone drove him forward, flying towards a destination even he did not know. He could only hope it would be somewhere safe.

——————————

Blades didn’t know what he was expecting when he went on a walk along the beach, but it most certainly wasn’t a large Cybertronian lying in in the sand, looking like he’d crashed landed and resting lifeless on patch of sand soaked with energon. Technically, the copter wasn’t even supposed to be out here, as Sigma-17 had to maintain their cover, but everything at the firehouse had just been several kinds of too much that morning, so he had, for once, flown off on his own and landed on a beach he knew no humans ever really came to, intent to just take a walk and clear his head.

Except, upon coming around a bend, he’d found the aforementioned Cybertronian. For a moment, he’d simply frozen, but then the instinct ingrained by his training kicked in and he sprung into action. See, Blades was a trained and licensed triage medic. He couldn’t perform complex surgeries or anything on the level of a proper medic, but in the Rescue Academy on Cybertron he’d taken the courses for field level medical aid so that, if he’d ever run into someone during a rescue who’d been hurt, he could treat them and keep them alive until they could get to a medical facility. The training g had been fun, especially when he’d studied with-

He shook his head roughly before that thought could complete itself. He didn’t want to think about the time….Before. It hurt, remembering what and who he’d lost during his millennia of stasis. Before he could fall back into grief, training snapped back into place and his processor quieted. He knelt next to the fallen Cybertronian, noting that they were a Seeker frame, and carefully turned the bot over. His next thought was an observation that the bot was a mech, and that the energon soaking into the sand under his frame was spilling from a large hole torn straight through his chest. That meant the first thing he needed to do was seal the leaking lines to keep him from losing more energon. After that, he could call Heatwave. He didn’t have the skills to patch this wound up fully. Once he’d made sure this mech wouldn’t die here and now, he would need to get him to proper care. One of the stasis pods would certainly help, though if they wanted the wound healed fully he’d need to be in the pod for a while. The other alternative was contacting Optimus. Blades knew the Prime had a proper medic on his team, which might be the better option.

As his processor raced, trying to think of a plan, his hands worked on autopilot. He slipped the tools he needed from his subspace, cleaning and removing grime where it was needed to prevent infection, removing bits of sand and stone from the wound, and using a small welder to seal off the free-flowing energon lines. He covered loose, sparking wires and circuits, , rerouting a few of them in places where it was needed. Finally, after many long minutes, he finished and sat back on his heels.

It was then the helicopter realized his comm. was pinging with an alert for an incoming message, and had been for quite some time. In fact, it seemed he’d missed several messages. From Heatwave, Chase, Boulder, Dani, the Chief, Cody…Pit, even Graham had sent him a message. Embarrassment and guilt settled heavy in his chest, and he lifted his hand to his audial to accept the current call. As soon as his comm. clicked to life, Dani’s voice was coming through it.

“Blades! Finally! Where are you? We’ve all been worried sick, you know.” his partner scolded. Blades couldn’t help the small smile that twisted his lips upwards. It was nice knowing she cared. He loved Dani dearly. She was family, after all. “You know you’re not supposed to even be out of the firehouse on your own, you idiot bot!” she continued, her voice holding an undercurrent of worry despite the insult. Blades didn’t take it personally. “What if someone had seen you? You need to-“

And now that was enough. “Dani.” he interrupted her, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I’m sorry for ignoring you and everyone else, but right now there’s a bigger emergency than me risking our cover. I found an inured bot on that small beach behind the mountain. You know, the one no one likes to go to because the hike is too long? He’s in a really bad way. I have triage training, and I’ve patched him up, but he needs either a stasis pod or a proper medic, as close to immediately as possible.”

There was silence on the other end, before-

“Alright. I’ll tell everyone to come to your location. I’m with Dad and Chase right now. We all split up to look for you, but we’ll meet you there. Don’t move, and keep the bot alive.” Dani instructed. Despite himself, Blades was smiling again. Yes, he really did love Dani. She knew when it was time to get serious. He had a feeling he’d be forgiven for his blunder today, given the circumstances.

“Will do. I’ll see you soon.”

“Just hang tight, partner. And stay out of trouble.”

“You too.” he chirped, hands still working over the bot to patch up his more minor wounds now that the life-threatening one was dealt with. “And Dani?”

“Yeah, Blades?”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then her voice came though, softer and fonder.

“Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing.”

Then the comm. line cut off, and Blades was left alone to in the silence. He let his processor drift, kneeling in the energon soaked sand as he worked on saving the life of a bot whose name he didn’t even know.

——————————

Chase was worried. He knew Blades was more capable than the others thought he was, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. He hadn’t been surprised when the copter bot had left the firehouse that morning. He’d seen the way he had held his rotors tight to his spinal strut, seen the way he’d fidgeted around the others, seen the way his optics had slipped and gone dull and distant. He knew today was not a good day for Blades, so his disappearance had not been a surprise. He’d been mildly concerned, simply because he did not know if Blades would be able to avoid being seen in his more distracted state, but he hadn’t been too worried. Still, when Heatwave had insisted on going to track down their rogue teammate, he hadn’t protested. He’d even offered to let Dani ride with him and the Chief to make things simpler.

But then Blades had finally picked up Dani’s comm. and that was when he started to worry. A strange bot, found injured on Griffin Rock? It raised many questions. Where had they come from? Who where they? How had they been injured? Chase wasn’t worried that the bot would die. He knew Blades had triage training, so he was confident his teammate would be able to keep his unexpected patient alive. Even so, this new development raised many questions that Chase did not have the answers to, and that was what worried him. There were not many Cybertronians on Earth, he knew. Aside from Sigma-17, there was Team Prime, and….the Decepticons. As far as Chase was aware, and he admittedly did not know as much as he would like, there were no unaligned bots on the planet.

Which meant this newcomer was either one of Prime’s team, a Decepticon, or he had crash landed on the island from space and wasn’t attached to either faction. It would be easy enough to confirm; they simply had to contact Prime and ask if he was missing a teammate, and if not ask if he recognized the bot in question. If this stranger was a neutral party or an Autobot, Chase knew there would be nothing to worry about. But if they were a Decepticon…well, that was the root of the police bot’s concerns. Sigma-17 was a rescue team. They knew rudimentary combat skills, enough to defend themselves or those they were rescuing in an emergency, but they were non-combatants. By the standards of the War, his team would be classified as civilians. If this new Cybertronian was a Decepticon…Chase wasn’t sure they’d be able to protect Griffin Rock, this time. He wasn’t sure they’d even be able to protect themselves.

Before he could slip even further into his own processor, they arrived at the coordinates Blades had sent. His snapped into focus, his doors popping open to allow his passengers out, and then he was transforming and walking over to where he could see Blades. As he approached his friend, he heard Boulder and Heatwave pull up behind him and transform. Blades looked up from his work when his three teammates stopped next to him, and Chase was mildly disconcerted to see the amount of energon soaking the sand and coating the copter’s hands.

“Blades, what happened?” Heatwave demanded, voice rough.

“I don’t know.” he shrugged helplessly. “I came out here for some space and to take a walk, cause I know this beach is practically abandoned, and I just found him like this.”

Indeed, this close, Chase could see that the mystery bot was in fact a mech. That answered one question, but none of the others. How irritating. It was also making him very nervous and queasy to see just how badly injured the very, very large bot was. Boulder too, seemed to feel ill at the sight of such horrible wounds and so much energon. Distantly, Chase noted that the bot might be even bigger than High Tide. He had no idea how they were supposed to get him back to the firehouse.

Heatave made a frustrated noise, clearly displeased with the lack of information though he knew Blades was not to blame. “Well can you tell how he got so injured?”

“A weapon of some sort, though not one I’ve ever seen the damage of before.” Blades said, frowning. His processor was clearly working hard, trying to turn over the facts he knew to figure out the bigger picture. “There’s also signs of older damage. I can’t be 100% sure, but I think this bot is, or maybe was, involved in the War.”

Heatwave paused, seeming more wary with this new information. “…can you tell which side?”

“No. Any faction identifier or badge has been destroyed or scraped off like most of his paint. I can only just figure out what his colors are supposed to be, and even them only barely.”

Chase could tell that Heatwave was annoyed, but the fire truck only grumbled his curses under his breath before sighing. “Alright. What do we need to do?”

Blades startled, looking surprised. “You’re asking me?”

“Of course.” Chase cut in before Heatwave could snap something rude and further stress the already clearly frazzled helicopter. “You are the triage medic here. Protocol dictates that, in the absence of a full medic, any medical decisions would fall to the next available medical expert. In this case, that would be you.”

Blades blinked a few times, before shaking himself and sitting up straighter. “Like I said earlier, he needs a stasis pod. Badly. I don’t have the ability to fix him completely, my training only covered keeping patients alive until they could get to someone who could repair them fully. The only one on planet I know who might be able to help is Optimus’s medic. He can also heal completely in one of our stasis pods, but it would take longer than just asking Optimus for help.”

Heatwave grunted. “Got it. He needs a stasis pod now, and a medic later. We can do that.”

That seemed to be enough to startle Boulder into awareness, and the bulldozer jumped before nodding and turning to Heatwave. “Graham and I can figure out a way to transport him safely. Though we’ll need your help, Blades. You have a better understanding of his condition than us.”

The copter nodded, and Chase let that be his que to retreat to back to where the humans were waiting. Apparently, they didn’t want to get too close in case their presence caused an issue with the unknown bot’s care.

“Well?” Chief asked. “How’s our newest guest?

“Unwell.” Chase said succinctly. “He is severely injured and appears to be involved in the War in some fashion, though it is impossible to tell for which side. We are going to transport him to the firehouse in order to put him into a stasis pod so that he may heal. Graham, I believe Boulder requires your assistance in that respect.” he said, directing the last part to the engineer.

Graham nodded, making no protest as he jogged forward towards his partner, Boulder already turning and crouching to begin discussing plans. Dani followed him quickly, though she split from his path to join Blades, clambering up onto his leg and patting his canopy as she shot him a reassuring smile.

It was here that Kade made his own opinion known. “Hey hey hey, let’s slow down!” he protested. “You just said you don’t know what side this guy’s on, and you want to bring him back home? We can’t do that! Why can’t Blades just fix him here and we can send him on his way?”

Chase tilted his head. “Blades is a licensed triage medic. He does not have the training necessary to fully repair him. Besides, even if he did, I do not believe it would be wise to simply ‘send him on his way’, and you said. If he truly is a Decepticon, then doing so would risk leading the entirety of the Decepticon army right here to Griffin Rock.”

Kade froze, seeming suddenly queasy. “Oh.”

Chief sighed. “Fair point, partner. I agree we can’t just leave him or let him die. It wouldn’t be right, even if he isn’t on our side. But for safety’s sake, would it be possible to keep him unconscious until we can confirm his identity with Optimus?”

Chase nodded. “Indeed, Chief. I believe that is the current plan. As soon as he is safely in a stasis pod, we will attempt to contact Optimus. With luck, we can have this matter sorted by the end of today.”

“Good.” Chief smiled. “Then let’s get to work.”

“Agreed.”

Chase returned to his team, Chief and Kade following at his heel, to find they had come up with a plan to transport the unknown Cybertronian. Working together, the rescue team was able to get the large flight-frame settled into a make-shift trailer the engineer duo had thrown together, and after hitching it to Boulder’s vehicle mode the whole group made their way to the firehouse using the tunnels in order to avoid being seen. Barring Blades, of course, who instead flew straight to base with Dani in order to prepare a stasis pod.

By the time Chase and the others arrived, the pod was set up and open to admit the unknown mech. It took all four of Sigma-17 working together to lift him into it, but then the glass door was sliding shut and frost soon hid the bot from view as the stasis function of the pod took affect. Now, all that was left was for Blades to clean himself up, and for Heatwave to contact Optimus about their guest.

Chase just hoped this development didn’t come back to bite them.

——————————

Dreadwing woke to the hiss of an unfamiliar system disengaging and onlined his optics to see icy mist billowing to the floor as a glass door slid up from in front of him. A stasis pod? That was odd. The Nemesis had no stasis pods and he knew the Autobots did not have the means to maintain or build one either. He was also not aware there were any other Cybertronians on the planet. So where was he, and how had he gotten into a stasis pod? The last thing he remembered was fleeing the Nemesis, although….he did have very vague, hazy memories of a crash. Had he been discovered and saved before he could offline? If so, he would have to thank his unexpected savior. Unless, of course, it was an Autobot and he had only been saved so he could be locked away. If that was the case, a bot was going to die here today and it would not be him.

The stasis pod fully disengaged from him, and he was able to step out and onto the floor. He glanced down at himself, humming idly. It seemed that he had been fully repaired either before or while in the pod. That was good for him. He looked around, frowning at his odd surroundings. The location he was in had medical supplies, but was clearly no full medical bay. Perhaps it was only set up for emergencies, then? His wings twitched when he picked up the sound of pede steps beyond the doorway, and his gaze turned towards the sound. After a moment, he realized whoever it was wasn’t coming towards him, but rather they seemed to be…pacing? Yes, that is what it sounded like. Curiosity piqued, Dreadwing strode towards the door, making sure his own steps were quiet so as not to alert the other to his presence. He stepped though, looking around…and his optics blew wide.

It was a youngling. A small, orange and white helicopter bot was pacing back and forth in tight circles in the center of the room. Dreadwing was willing to bet that this little flyer was even younger than the Autobot scout. As the mechling turned to pace in another circle, the Seeker caught sight of the emblem on his chest. At first, he saw only a badge similar to the Autobot brand and his frame began to stiffen. Then the rest of the badge processed in his mind and his vents froze.

The Rescue Bot insignia.

This tiny little flying mechling was a Rescue Bot. But how? Megatron had seen to the destruction of the Rescue Bot headquarters in the early days of the war, and had sent his soldiers to systematically hunt down and offline any who had survived the initial attack or had not been present during it. Dreadwing and his brother had joined the Decepticons after massacre, but it was one the only acts the Decepticons had committed that they had wholly disapproved off. The Rescue Bots had been unaffiliated with any faction. They took an oath of neutrality, a vow to save any and every life they could regardless who who or what that life was. Megatron had wanted them gone because he’d wanted to make a statement, but also because he wanted to deny the Autobots any potential allies or any aid that the Rescue Bots would have given them.

It had been a great loss, and had been one of the reasons Dreadwing had initially wished to avoid choosing one side or the other. The Decepticons, in his mind, took things too far. The Autobots, while more restrained, had initially risen from the regime in which he and his brother had suffered under. But then….Vos had fallen, and word had spread that his city’s destruction had been the doing of the Autobots. He and Skyquake had been forced to pick a side, then. He’d gotten over his hesitance at the Decepticon methods and given Lord Megatron his undying loyalty. And now…he was here, betrayed by the one who he as sworn himself to, watching a youngling Rescue Bot pace in nervous circles. It was something that should have been impossible.

Suddenly, the mechling froze, and wide amber optics turned to him. Idly, Dreadwing realized he must have made some noise, and then the little copter was yelping and scrabbling back. He paused, then hurried forward, his hands fluttering as if unsure what to do. Before the little one got too close, Dreadwing locked his own sharp, red optics onto him, and the bot froze in place with a startled yip.

For a long moment, there was only silent staring.

——————————

Blades was pacing. There wasn’t much else he could do. The day they had brought back the large Seeker, Heatwave had contacted Optimus. Only, the Prime had very quickly shut him down, explaining they were busy with an issue of “upmost importance” and that he would return their contact when he was able to. That had been three weeks ago, and he hadn’t called back. The Seeker was still in stasis, and Heatwave was once against attempting to make contact, for the 15th day in a row. Chase and the Chief were on patrol, and Boulder and the other humans were at Blossom Vale, having a picnic. Blades had opted to remain behind, wanting to keep an eye on the Seeker.

In the time since finding the large mech, Blades had done some research. He’d had to dig around the Sigma’s files, and dig through the files of the computer that connected them to Optimus, as well as dig through the various data-pads that had been left to them by High Tide and Optimus. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that he’d been able to piece together information about the War that the Prime hadn’t been telling them. Now, Blades understood why the War had started. The civil unrest had been a thing even before Sigma-17 had been formed, when he was still in the early days of training, it had been mild, then, but it had been there. So he wasn’t surprised that it had grown worse, especially if the root causes of the unrest hadn’t ever been addressed.

He also knew, from the information he’d dug up in his search, that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers had joined the Decepticons. Which meant that his patient was, in all likelihood, a Decepticon himself. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But he hadn’t told the others his suspicions. Mostly because…something about the situation was odd. Optimus didn’t strike him as the type of mech who would inflict or approve of that type of wound being inflicted on a mech. So unless he had someone on his team who was excessively violent and he couldn’t control, Blades didn’t see that wound coming from the Autobots. Which meant it had come from the Decepticons. Of course, that only raised more questions. Namely, why would they do that to one of their own, if the mech really was a ‘Con? He wanted to get answers before he shared his suspicions. He didn’t want to condemn the Seeker to anything bad if he was wrong.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t been all he had learned, in the past few weeks. In one of the data pads High Tide had left about the early days of the war, there had been a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force”. It had just been a mention, a reference to an event that was probably detailed in a separate data pad. But he hadn’t ever found that separate data pad. And when he remembered What Optimus had said, when he’d first found them..”

“I was not aware Rescue Teams were…still active.”

He’d said it slowly, haltingly, as if choosing the words carefully. He’d paused before saying the last part too. At the time, Blades hadn’t thought much of it. But with the information about the War Optimus had allowed them to have, and the mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in that one data pad, well…Blades was starting to think that “active” had not been the word that the Prime had actually meant. Something had happened, something he didn’t have enough information to figure out yet, but the faint picture he was starting to get from the pieces of information he did have wasn’t one he liked. It was another reason he was hesitant to share what he suspected about the Seeker. Optimus was keeping vital information from Sigma-17. He didn’t care if the Prime didn’t want them fighting in the War. He agreed that it was a bad idea. But he was withholding information that Blades suspected his team would very much want, and they didn’t even know it.

So here he was, pacing restlessly as his processor turned over the information he got, unsure how or even if he should share it. Would his team even believe him? He doubted they would. He knew they thought he was silly and couldn’t understand complex ideas, but that was far from the truth. After all, of all the Rescue Bots he had the greatest understanding of human nature and culture. His understanding wasn’t always 100% accurate, and just because he understand the what didn’t mean he understand the why, but he still understood more than any of the others. And sure, he applied most of his ability to learn new information to pop culture rather than the things the others might consider more “worthwhile”, but that was only because pop culture was more fun. Plus, pop culture was where humanity really displayed they way they ticked. Did it really make him that much of an idiot if all that was the case?

He was startled from his spiraling thoughts by a sound from the direction of the make-shift medical bay. The copter glanced in that direction, thinking it was one of his teammates, only to yelp and leap back upon seeing the Seeker. He’d known the other bot was large, but seeing him awake and up just confirmed how large. The red optics too, made discomfort curl in Blade’s tanks. The data-pads had suggested that red optics were typical of Decepticons, though they shouldn’t be used as an identifier of such. Even so, it was another tick in favor of his theory. Then the scene caught up to him, and medical training overrode his temporary moment of panic.

This bot wasn’t supposed to be up yet. In fact, even if he had been fully healed by the pods it was supposed to keep him under until Optimus could arrive. Except….Blades must have put in the settings wrong. He was so used to setting the stasis pods to release once the healing process was complete that he must have input that setting without realizing it. Which…presented a problem. Is this mech was hostile, he didn’t think his team could handle it. Those thoughts circled in the back of his processor as he directed the bulk of his worry towards making sure his patient was alright. His hands flapped awkwardly as he approached the larger flyer, ready to skim over his frame to check out his condition, when piercing red optics locked onto him. He froze with a high pitched squeak, his own optics blown wide as that gaze pinned him in place.

For a long moment, the two Cybertronians merely stared at each other.

Then Blades, getting increasingly nervous, broke the silence. “Are you okay?” he asked, curling and tucking his hands against his canopy. “The stasis pod should have healed you completely, but you were hurt pretty bad. Even most of your paint was gone, though it looks like your color nanintes were able to fix that while you were healing.”

Indeed, the mech standing in front of him was now in full color, his purple and yellow paint bold and bright on his frame. It did seem, however, that he was still missing a faction brand. If he’d ever had one, of course, though the copter strongly suspected he did.

The Seeker seemed put off for a moment, as if he didn’t know why Blades was worried. “I am well.” he said carefully. “Are you the one who repaired me?”

“Well, sort of?” Blades’s rotors fluttered against his back. “I’m a triage medic, so I couldn’t fix you completely, but I kept you online until my team and I could get you into a pod.”

The Seeker narrowed his eyes. “Team?” he repeated, obviously suspicious.

Blades squeaked again, shoulders hunching. “We’re Rescue Bots.” he gestured at his insignia before his hands tucked back against his canopy. “Team Sigma-17. I’m Blades.”

The Seeker was silent for a long moment. “You may call me Dreadwing.” he said slowly. His gaze was still piercing.

Blades nodded, then took a few steps forward, and when Dreadwing made no move to stop him, he closed the gap between them. “Do you mind if I scan you over one last time? I just want to be sure all your systems are in order.”

The Seeker bowed his helm, and Blades lifted his hands to skim over plating, using his built in scanning systems he’d gotten in his triage training to check his patient over. Everything was coming back fine, but with a wound as serious as his had been Blades away taking no chances.

“You are a Rescue Bot.” Dreadwing spoke. His voice was low, and there was an odd note to it.

“Yep. Me, Boulder, Chase, and Heatwave. We crashed here a while ago and Prime stationed us on this island to act as a rescue team for the locals.” he explained distractedly.

Dreadwing made a soft hum. “Prime knows you are here? Are you Autobots, then?”

Blades frowned. “He knows. He visits, sometimes, but not often. We haven’t been able to contact him lately though.” He was too focused on his task to think about whether he should actually,be answering so freely. The second question gave him pause, though. “No? At least, not really? We’re a Rescue Team. Rescue Bots take oaths off non-affiliation. We can’t side with any particular group or individual since our job is to help any bot or being that needs it.” He was reading over the results of his scans, mouth turned down. “We’re more closely tied to the Autobots right now, but that mostly because we don’t know much of what happened with the war. We were in stasis until we crashed.” He let the readings flicker away, and froze when he realized how much he’d shared. “Uhhh….”

Dreadwing only snorted, actually looking fairly amused. “Yes, I think it is quite clear now that you are no warrior, little youngling.” he rumbled. His expression darkened. “I understand why Prime stationed you here, out of sight. Megatron would see you hunted and slaughtered if he knew a Rescue Team still functioned.”

This made Blades freeze, and as he recalled Optimus’s first words to them, and that data pad, dread began to build in his spark. “What?” he asked weakly.

Dreadwing stared. “You were not told?” he sounded…angry. “That is foolish. It is not a pleasant tale, but you should have been told if only to ensure you understand the importance of your existence remaining secret.”

Blades swallowed. “Optimus doesn’t really tell us much of anything about the War, and the data pads he leaves only really cover the basic and important bits, not the details.” he whispered. “Does…does Megatron wanting my team offlined have anything to do with the “end of the Rescue Force”? I read about it in one of the data pads, but it was just a mention. I couldn’t find any details other than that one phrase.”

Dreadwing’s gaze was solemn as the little bot lifted his optics to meet it. “Yes.” he said bluntly. “In the early days of the War, Megatron grew angry that the Rescue Bots aligned with no faction, and he wanted to deprive the Autobots of any who might aid or help them. He ordered the destruction of the Rescue Force. The Headquarters was destroyed, and all Rescue Bots present were massacred. Any who survived, and any who had not been present in the initial attack, were systematically hunted and slain.”

Blades’s knees felt weak. He pressed his hands to Dreadwing’s chest to steady himself, grateful that the larger flyer didn’t protest it. His rotors rattled madly against his back with his distress, and his optics were blown wide.

“But that would mean…”

“You and your team are the last Rescue Bots in existence. All the others are offline and have been for many, many millennia.”

The copter’s knees gave out, and Dreadwing was quick to grasp his frame to keep him from hitting the ground. A sharp keen left Blades’s vocalizer, and the Seeker blessedly said nothing and made no moves to push as the youngling processed the new information.

It was, of course, that moment that the others chose to return.

——————————

Part 2

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

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intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-two

I’m liking this two updates a week schedule because I hate leaving you guys hanging like that!! I hope this chapter makes it all better xx.

Oh btw the title of this chapter and last chapter are lyrics from “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet! (Also I know the gif is irrelevant but the ~emotion~ of it is relevant)

ALSO (wow I have a lot I keep forgetting to add) I meant to @ her last chapter, but all of these medical scenes and things were 100% done with the help of @thedumpsterqueen because I know next to nothing about all this stuff and she was an angel and let me ask all the crazy questions <333 (P.S. she has a Hotch fic called Standards of Performance on her blog that you guys should alllll read if you haven’t already!! It’s SO good it’s one of my favorites)

Warnings: angst and sadness, but that’s pretty much it

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two: I can’t imagine a world with you gone

Everything is a blur in Hotch’s mind before and after the first gunshot rings through the air. He didn’t need to hear the buzzing in his ear to know it had hit you.

He took off at a sprint, as did the rest of the team.

His ears are ringing. His thoughts are racing. He’s never been a man who talks frequently to God, but he’s praying. Hoping you’re alive. Begging you to not be dead.

Aaron would never forgive himself if you died. As it stands, though, he won’t ever forgive himself for this.

Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi take off in one direction. Hotch and Morgan take the other. Police officers fill the gaps and follow behind, everyone searching for you and Savannah.

Morgan is the first to stumble on the room. His throat aches when he screams for Hotch, keeping his weapon aimed at Savannah.

“Put the gun down!” Morgan yells.

Hotch comes skidding to a stop in the doorway a second later, weapon raised, but his eyes are focused on you. Savannah’s boot is pressing into your thigh, blood oozing from your wound, soaking your pants, spilling onto the concrete. Hotch’s heart drops at the sight. He’s seen enough bullet wounds to know how much blood should come from them. That is too much.

The bullet must’ve hit the major artery. And the thought terrifies him.

Morgan takes the shot when Savannah refuses to move. It hits her stomach and she stumbles for a moment before falling. Morgan yells for the paramedics again, distantly thinking they should be in here by now.

Hotch falls to the ground beside you, his hands cupping your face, not caring who sees. His thumbs tap your cheeks, willing you to open your eyes. You have a pulse, but it’s weak. Weaker than what it should be.

He presses hard over your wound, hoping to slow the bleeding, but there’s more surrounding your leg than he wants to see.

“Y/N?” He says, his eyes watching your eyelids for any movement. He lets out a momentary sigh of relief when your eyes open. “Y/N, please, can you hear me?”

You stare back at him, no signs of his words registering in your eyes. They’re empty. Haunted, again, but for a different reason this time. This time it’s different. “Aaron…”

“I’m here,” Hotch says gently, pressing his hand harder, his heart breaking when you groan in pain. “I know,” he says, shushing you.

Your eyes travel around the room then, and Aaron follows. Morgan is pressing his hand over Savannah’s wound, speaking into his wrist, asking the others where the hell the paramedics are at.

But Aaron doesn’t want you to see that, so he cups your jaw again, turning your eyes back on him. He smiles as best he can, the tears beginning to spill from his eyes as he takes in your face.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly. “Keep holding on. They’re almost here.”

“Aaron,” you try to say, your voice low and strained, and Aaron shakes his head, trying to get you to stop talking. “Aaron...I don’t wanna go without-- I need to tell you that I--”

“Shhh,” he tries again, not wanting you to waste any energy. “You don’t need to.”

“I love you,” you finally get it out. And he’s stunned to complete silence and tears. “I love you so...so much. It hurts.”

“Y/N,” he says, panicked. Your eyes are closing. “Y/N! Come back, Y/N, come back to me. Y/N. Y/N, please.”

Hotch is too caught up in holding your face and keeping pressure on your wound to notice the paramedics have arrived. One team goes to Savannah, relieving Morgan, while the other comes to you, trying to usher Hotch away, but he doesn’t budge.

“Hotch,” Morgan tugs on the unit chief, grabbing at his arms, his heart breaking for the both of you. “Hotch, you need to let them get to her.”

Reluctantly, Hotch backs up, clenching his bloodied fist, grimacing at the way your blood sticks his skin together.

Everything else is a blur.

What does it need to be clear for, anyway? If you’re not here?

+++

You’re still in surgery.

It’s been an hour. But it feels longer. It feels like it’s been an entire twenty-four hours.

The entire team has taken up camp in a waiting room at the hospital.

Reid is reading and rereading every magazine he can get his hands on to distract himself, never mind the fact that he reads them so fast that he rips a page on one from turning it so quickly. Morgan has Garcia on the phone and has left to get coffee at least three times, the first time returning with a tray of steaming cups and the next two times returning with only one, but two tearful eyes. Emily has been pacing and will wear a hole into the tile at this rate if she walks for another hour. JJ has been staring at the wall, chewing so hard on the inside of her cheek that she flinches when she draws blood.

Rossi has been staring at the wall, too, but mostly he’s been worrying about and watching Hotch.

Aaron has been biting his nails, tugging at his hair, angrily wiping away tears, and left once to go on a walk before returning two minutes later, asking if they had heard anything. Those two minutes had felt like two hours and he was worried sick for all 120 seconds that he missed something.

Dave hasn’t tried to say anything to Aaron, though he wants to. It’s heartbreaking to watch Aaron like this.

You’re going to pull through. Dave — and the rest of the team — can’t afford to think otherwise. And they refuse to think otherwise, unable to imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.

But it seems like Aaron is thinking otherwise.

Truthfully, he is. But he’s thinking about so much more.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

And he was too stunned to say it back. The one chance he had, and it might be gone now. Ripped away. Forever.

He sent you in there. He did this to you. He had his reservations, but the call had already been made. You seemed so sure. You wanted to do this so badly. He didn’t want another fight about him not trusting you because it’s not about his trust for you, it’s about how terrified he was for you.

He’ll never forgive himself for this now. Not ever.

It’s a world he can’t even bear to imagine. One without you in it.

Yet here he is, grappling with the fact that he might not have to imagine it soon. He sent you in there. He knowingly put your life in danger. And now he’ll have to live with the consequences.

+++

Aaron is shaken from his trance by the doctor and a nurse coming in to inform the team that you’re out of surgery and that it went well.

But you’re in the ICU.

“She lost a great deal of blood,” the doctor says gravely. “But we think she’ll pull through. She just needs to be watched closely for the time being.”

Everyone nods silently, not sure of what else to say, other than feeling relief that you’re alive.

“Visiting hours are long over, so I recommend you all get some rest,” the nurse says. “She’s in good hands here.”

“Thank you,” Rossi replies.

The doctor excused himself, but the nurse stayed, offering to answer any extra questions. “Visiting hours start at seven a.m.,” she says first. “And in the ICU, only two visitors are allowed in her room at a time.” She doesn’t voice an apology, but one is in her tone as she glances between the six team members.

“Can I stay?” Hotch blurts out of nowhere. The team member’s heads all turn to look at him in surprise. “Can anyone stay the night, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah,” the nurse nods. “One person can.” Her eyebrows furrow sincerely. “Are you her dad?”

Morgan internalizes a snort.

“No,” Hotch replies kindly. “I’m not, but I’d like to stay. I’m her boss.”

Still the nurse looks skeptical. “Would she be okay with—”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Emily blurts out, tired of waiting. And when Hotch sends her a look, she says, “What? It would’ve taken you hours to say it.”

“Oh,” the nurse chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course you can stay.”

Hotch lets a tiny smile shine through, but it’s not much. Truth is, he’s terrified to see you. But leaving you here alone – even if this is a hospital – terrifies him more.

The rest of the team says goodbye to head back to the hotel for some much-needed rest, if they can sleep at all. They know they’ll wake every couple hours to worry about you before sleep consumes them once more.

In the meantime, Hotch will be here to look after you for all of them. You’re like a little sister to the rest of them, even though Morgan is the only one to have voiced that. You’re loved here. Loved more than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.

You’re loved by Aaron much more than he’ll ever be able to articulate to you. But he’ll try. He’ll try to help you see.

+++

Hotch is finally walking to your room in the ICU after another half hour of waiting. The nurse said they had to get everything settled in your room before he could come back, which only made Hotch’s worry spike even more.

But eventually, he’s in your room with you. A pillow and blanket is in the chair by the window, but he’s not paying attention to it.

You. You’re asleep, of course, and probably will be for a few more hours. The nurse said you had already woken up once, but because of the pain medicine and the overall stress your body has been under in the past few hours, you fell back to sleep almost instantly.

Tears well in his eyes at the sight of you, laid up in the hospital bed, IVs and wires all over you. The beeping of the heart monitor is the only real sign to him that you’re even alive. Your chest is rising and falling, but it’s barely visible underneath the gown and blankets and wires.

You have one regular IV placed on the top of your left hand. Some other line is in your upper arm, and another in your wrist. He has no idea what they’re all for, he just knows he hates seeing you connected to so much.

Aaron wipes at his eyes angrily. Does he have a right to be this upset when he’s the one who sent you in there?

He turns and sets the pillow and blankets in the other chair, knowing he won’t sleep tonight even if he wanted to. Instead, he pulls the chair closer to your bed, where he can place his hand next to yours.

And, if you happen to wake up, you can reach for him if you need to.

+++

Three hours pass and you still haven’t woken up. Aaron knows. He’s been watching you the entire time.

The nurses have come to check on you a few times, assuring Aaron that it’s normal for you to be sleeping like this. But he just nods silently.

He wants you to wake up. Just for a minute. He needs you to just open your eyes and look at him, just once. That’s all he needs.

But it’s wishful thinking as the sky begins to lighten, showing the first signs of dawn.

Aaron links his pinky with yours, afraid to do much else and risk messing up your IV. Holding pinky fingers is enough right now. Or at least, it’ll have to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud, to you, or really to no one at all, because he’s not even sure you can hear him. “I’m just so...sorry, Y/N.”

Stupid tears gather in his eyes again, clogging his throat, stopping his words.

But he keeps going.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “And I know you’ll try to convince me that it’s not, but Y/N, it is and I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let this happen to you.”

He leans his head into the palm of his free hand, tightening his pinky finger’s grip on yours.

“I love you,” he blurts it out, tears warming his palm as they cascade down his cheeks. “I love you and I need you to wake up because I need you to hear it. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day that I’ve known you that I haven’t loved you.”

He sniffles, loud and body-rattling, glad he’s alone in this room with you because he’d never let anyone else see him like this. No one but you.

“I tried to get it out before, but you were already gone, and I— You need to wake up. I need you to wake up. Please.”

Aaron keeps his eyes closed and head down for a few minutes longer. He doesn’t even see that you’ve opened your eyes.

Until your pinky finger gently squeezes his.

He lifts his head quickly, eyes wide and wild when he sees you’re looking back at him, eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion.

And just like that, just seeing your eyes open and looking right at him, the dam breaks once more. He’s a mess of tears when he leans his head down onto the bed. You lift your hand and thread your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes as more tears slip down your cheeks.

You scratch a soothing pattern on the base of his skull, moving your other hand over your body to hold onto his arm. He senses the movement and lifts his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, all he knows is his back aches when he straightens up again, and you’ve fallen back asleep.

Next chapter

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catxsnow · 4 years ago

Text

LOST IN YESTERDAY J.T.

Request: Hi! The realisation that your requests are open are just the serotonin hit I needed while recovering from surgery! I'm a sucker for fluff, so if you don't mind I'd love to steal some from you. Could I please have Jason attending a Wayne Gala masquerade and falling in love with a person, only to not know their identity? Later, at another gala, he remeets them and figures out it was someone he used to live on the streets with. Does this make sense? I hope so; I love your writing. Tell me if not ♥

Warning: swearing, mentions of blood, alcoholic beverages being consumed

A/N: forever will be naming fics after Tame Impala songs and no one can stop me. Link to get on my taglist is at the bottom of this fic.

Word count: 3,5k

Everyone knew that Jason hated the Gala's that Bruce held. The non-stop complaining that came from him occurred every time that it was brought up. Tim got annoyed, Dick was frustrated, Damian was threatening to punch Jason if he spoke another word about it. They were all tired of his antics.

Nonetheless, he went to these events - especially when there was an open bar. Jason spent his time avoiding people and (occasionally) hitting on some of the beautiful women that looked his way. It was easy to hold up the "son of a playboy act" even if he didn't care about any of the people he talked to.

To feel even more ridiculous, Bruce hosted a masquerade ball. Jason hated them to begin with, but to have a room full of strangers in masks, in Gotham? Bruce knew better, but it was what his company wanted. At least with Batman and every Robin that there was there, the people would be safe.

Jason took a sip out of the glass he was holding. Ice and whiskey sloshed around in it before meeting his lips. He leaned against the counter of the bar, eyes glazing over the crowd and not looking for anyone in particular. A red mask covered half his face. Gold decor lined around his eyes that matched the tie he was wearing.

There were a dozen other things that he could have been doing that night. Taking down criminals, getting one step closer to taking down the current biggest drug lord in town, hell he could have been saving a kitten from a tree and he would have been more content. Instead, he was stuck in a room full of rich people who couldn't care less about the people of Gotham.

Jason raised his glass to the bartender, indicating another drink. "Make that two more," a voice spoke beside him. They wore a mask similar to Jason's with the exception of silver. All black attire. Lack of a smile until looking over at him. "You looked lonely standing over here."

"That was kind of the point," Jason told them. Sarcasm was heavy in his voice, though it didn't seem to bother them. The bartender set both drinks in front of them. The stranger knocked the whiskey back in one go. Jason raised his eyebrows, shocked by the behaviour of someone attending an infamous Wayne Gala.

"(Y/N)," they stuck their hand out for him to shake. He accepted, still hesitant on what to think about this person. "What's someone like you doing at an event like this?"

"Someone like me?" Jason raised an eyebrow, though it couldn't be seen through the mask. This person clearly didn't know who he was or a thing about him. He was skeptical enough on how they were that quick to pick up on his lack of enthusiasm for being there, particularly hidden behind a mask.

Nonetheless, his curiosity piqued about them.

There was something about this person that made him feel nostalgic. Back before he was the son of Bruce Wayne and everyone knew his face, before he died, hell before he was Robin. Jason didn't get that feeling very often, but he enjoyed it all the same. For that reason alone he would entertain the idea of this person.

"Tense shoulders, wandering eyes, you don't wanna be here," they pointed out to him. He could see their face scrunch up with concentration, trying to figure out exactly where those beautiful blue eyes were from. "So why stay? Or more Importantly why come at all?"

"Call it a requirement," Jason vaguely replied. He didn't know who this person was or why they were so interested in his reason for being there, but it was starting to get on his nerves. Sure, he was curious about her - but there was nothing more frustrating than someone trying to force a conversation.

Jason adjusted the uncomfortable mask that sat on the bridge of his nose. For someone who wore a mask half their life, he despised the one that he had on. The glitter and sequence dug into his skin and he wished for nothing more than to be able to wear the domino mask he usually had on instead.

Then again, he'd rather be anywhere else but there.

"Care to dance, Jason?" His whole body froze out the sound of his name. Sure, he was recognizable as a Wayne son, but the stranger spoke it so smoothly like they had said it a thousand times - as if they had known him. He didn't like the tone in their voice or the smile on their face as they spoke his name.

They noticed how he tensed - just as he noticed the devious smirk on their lips because of his reaction. He tried so hard to think about who this person was and what they wanted out of him. Money? Murder? Was it an old enemy of his that returned from the grave? He couldn't figure it out.

A song that Jason had grown up to, one that Bruce had gotten him to elegantly learn to dance to, began playing. As much as his mind was telling him to get out of there, to figure out what this person wanted, he offered a hand to them instead. His muscles were tense, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Jason effortlessly guided them through the dance floor. One hand rested on the small of their back, the other clasping theirs. Their bodies were flush together as they swayed to the music. Jason's eyes swept the dance floor but he could feel the gaze of the stranger's eyes on him.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" He asked suddenly.

"You're supposed to be the smart one," they remarked. Jason bit his tongue. He could have easily caused a scene, forced the name out of this person through intimidation but he knew he couldn't. Bruce would have a fit if he did anything out of line - especially anything related to being the Red Hood.

He didn't like being at a disadvantage, in fact, if there was one thing he despised it was just that. There was nothing worse than an enemy - or potential enemy- being two steps ahead of him. This person knew things about him, too many things for someone hiding behind a mask and too afraid to show their face.

Jason suddenly dipped the person, hoping to catch them off guard. The stranger was just as quick as him. They latched onto his shoulders, daring to go even lower than he had already dipped them. Their closeness had Jason completely allured by the fragrance rolling off of them. He felt himself get comfortable around them, just for a moment.

Quickly, he pulled them back up. A smile rested on their face like he had done exactly what they had wanted him to.

They pressed themselves into Jason. Hand going from his shoulder to the back of his neck. He felt a shiver run down his spine from her touch, cool hands making his baby hair stand prominent. They pressed into his skin, guiding him to lower his lips to just inches away from their own.

A sudden wave of trust filled him. He found himself wanting to lean in more until there was no space between. Before he succumbed to these desires, he sharply pulled away. The mystery person was twirled out of his chest, an arms-length apart and only held together by their fingertips.

Jason pressed his mask farther up his face as it slipped down. He pulled them back in, this time making sure to keep their hands nowhere near his bare skin.

As soon as the song was over, Jason broke apart from the mystery person. His eyes darted towards the exit. If they weren't going to leave, then he was. Jason had been there long enough to make Bruce happy and now it was time to get onto his evening with more important things.

"It was nice seeing you, Jason," The person reached up to leave a delicate kiss on his cheek. He wanted to pull away before they could connect with his skin but he was frozen to his spot. They winked at him once more from under their mask before leaving him alone on the dance floor.

He didn't know who it was, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

Bruce was surprised to see Jason come so willingly to a gala - especially considering that he had gone to one barely even a month ago. The gala that evening had been an extremely last minute but WE considered it necessary. So, Bruce reluctantly decided to host yet another, and Jason was on the ball to be willing to attend.

What the great Batman didn't know, was that Jason's detective work when trying to find who this mystery person was, completely failed. He couldn't find a single thing about them. They weren't on the guest list, facial recognition couldn't get a good picture of them, and he was running out of clues.

Jason was dying to know who this was and what they wanted with him to the point that he would gladly put on another suit and tie to discover the truth. Then again, it was a long shot to see if they were going to attend as well. Considering that they had just snuck in the first time, he was really pulling a hail mary that she was going to do the same again.

The most frustrating part was that this whole time he had been living on the edge. What if this person was trying to kill him? What if they had found a way to outsmart him and get to him with ease? It was agitating that he couldn't figure out how to get ahead of whoever was after him. If they were after him.

Bruce instilled it in him to be paranoid. Maybe this was just someone that knew him for being the son of Bruce Wayne or had seen him around town before. He couldn't be sure that they were even after him. Nonetheless, it was time to put an end to this relentless suffering on his own behalf.

Once again, Jason found himself planted at the open bar Bruce provided for his guests. This time, however, he was far more alert than he was last time. He could see everything happening behind him with the mirror behind the bar, his peripherals were wide open - no one could sneak up to him.

At least he thought so.

Dressed in all black, hair styled differently than the last time that he had seen them, they had sat beside him. A glass of champagne swirled around in their hands. Jason looked at them in the mirror in front of them both. Striking eyes stared back at him, a playful smirk on their face at the idea of leaving him wondering.

"You sneak in again?" Jason asked, taking a sip of his own drink. They shrugged, though the answer was clearly a yes. They leaned against the edge of the bar and faced him. It was surprising that he hadn't put the pieces together yet - usually, he was faster than this. Jason hesitated before mimicking her.

They were stunning, he could admit that.

"What do you want from me?" He asked, getting straight to the point. He was tired of being tense because of them. "How do you know me?"

They chuckled. As frustrating as it was for him - they had no idea how paranoid he really was. They didn't know about his life as Red Hood or that he was raised by Batman. They knew him as Jason Todd, the kid that persevered through everything, the kid that was lucky enough to be taken in by Bruce Wayne.

They reached out to his arm. Before they could even get close, Jason grabbed their wrist with a deathly tight grip. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Jason," They spoke calmly as if this had happened before. Hesitantly, he let go of their wrist. Gently, they pushed back the suit jacket sleeve he wore to expose his forearm.

His skin was always laced with scars and bruises - even more so since the last time that they had seen him. However, there was one thick, faint scar on his wrist that wasn't from being the Red Hood or Robin. It was from when he was a kid - a stupid accident that left him bleeding and crying.

Jason froze as the tip of their finger ran over the scar. He had gotten so many over the years that he had forgotten where most of them were from. This one, this was one of the first ones that he had gotten. One that he remembered clear as day. For this stranger to randomly pick one scar out of the dozens on his body that weren't from being a hero - it was slim. They would have had to know about it.

"It's fine, it was an accident."

"Jason! You're bleeding. We need to get you to a hospital!" Their voice was higher back then. Filled with worry and fear about the small cut that he had gotten. Jason was trying to be brave, to be strong for them. He knew how they didn't like to see him hurt in any way, especially when it had been their fault.

It was an accident. He wasn't mad, not at them. Never at them. However, the deep cut stung and he could barely stop the tears in his eyes from the pain. Maybe he did need a hospital, however, he knew he couldn't afford it - not for something that he could Maytag himself at home.

"I'm fine," Jason scowled. The cloth wrapped around his arm was becoming stained dark red. They had far more tears on their face than he had. Guilt, worry, all feelings that a kid shouldn't have run through them. Jason sighed, trying to compose himself before speaking again. "It's not your fault (Y/N). It's okay, I'm okay."

"But-"

"But nothing," Jason cut them off. "Accidents happen. Remember just last week I pushed into you and you scraped your knee. Did you blame me?" They shook their head. OF course not, they were running together when they finally stopped and Jason hadn't noticed in time. It wasn't his fault - it was theirs. Just like how this time it was his fault for not watching out. "Exactly. I gotta go home to try and fix this."

"At least let me come home with you to make sure you're alright?" They asked, wiping the salty tears off their cheeks. Jason nodded. (Y/N) was always the one to worry about him.

"What would I do without you (Y/N)?" Jason tried to heighten their mood. The boyish smile that they loved was on his face.

"I don't ever want to find out Jason Todd."

But they did. (Y/N) did have to find out what it was like to live without Jason. It was a couple of years after that incident did Catherine die, his father gone. Bruce Wayne took him in as his new ward and (Y/N) was completely forgotten about. They couldn't blame him, not really. Not when the life of his dreams was handed to him.

They always pictured Jason being happy in that big mansion. He'd get everything that he'd ever wanted, everything that they talked about as kids. He could go to a good school, use his big brains to go to college. Jason must have been happy living with Bruce, that was the only reason that he would have forgotten about his old life.

That was far from the truth.

"(Y/N)," Jason breathed out. He felt like a fool for not realizing this sooner. (Y/N) had been his closet friend growing up. They did everything together - getting away from home, being kids through all their hardships. They were inseparable until he fell off the face of the earth. Until Bruce took him in and he had to push himself away from everybody to keep them safe.

"You're getting slow with your old age," They joked. (Y/N) dropped his wrist and returned to their drink. It had to have been close to a decade since they had seen each other. Jason was far bigger than he was as a kid and it made him almost unrecognizable. "White hair and all, I guess being rich aged you."

"You..." Jason lost all trail of thought. He couldn't believe that it was really them sitting in front of him. More stunning than ever. They loved seeing him stuttering over himself, flustered that after all these years he realized that he never came back. Mostly, it was nice to see him with his cheeks flushed for the first time since they had known each other.

"It's okay Jay," They took another sip of their drink. "I figured living the high life as a Wayne would dull your street skills. I never expected you to recognize me last month." (Y/N) had gotten far more confident over the years. Never would they have acted like this when they were kids.

They were nowhere near the truth, but they were still right. He felt like a damn fool for not being to recognize them through a stupid masquerade mask. Jason stuttered out a few words before giving up altogether. He had so many things that he wanted to ask about, or even just to catch up. Instead, he just remained a flustered mess.

(Y/N) stood up from the bar stool. They leaned in to Jason, planting a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. He felt a warmth spread through his body, just like the last time they had kissed him.

"Keep an eye out, Jason. I'll be seeing you soon."

"Wait," Jason grabbed onto their wrist before they could make a step out. (Y/N) looked down to him. The large man suddenly looked small with those big, pitiful eyes. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry that I never came back for you. I wish I would have, I wish I wouldn't have been so selfish."

(Y/N) sighed. They sat back down in the chair that they once occupied. Jason looked pleased with the decision, though even more fear ran through him at the moment. What did he have to say that would make everything right? Why would they show back up now?

"You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong," there was sincerity in their voice. Jason was no longer the bold and brave that everyone knew him as. He was brought back to his childhood in a single moment and reminded of just how vulnerable he could be. "I'm here... I'm here because I saw you in the paper a while ago... I thought you died, Jason."

I did.

All he could hear was the worry in their voice. The worry that he had died and they never got to see them again. Never got to relieve their childhood just one more time, or tell him how far he got in their life. (Y/N) was scared that they would never get to tell him that they did everything that they promised as a kid.

He nearly lost his guard for a moment. The boyish grin that he had learned to fake from Bruce spread across his face. He gestured to himself, "as you can see I'm clearly not dead." Except he had been. Except that paper had been right and they had every right to be worried about him dying. Just as it had happened once, it would surely happen again.

(Y/N) (L/N), someone who hadn't seen Jason in years, worried to death about a rumour that spread in town. His heart ached for the first time in a long time.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Jason suddenly blurted out. "I hate these stupid galas, and I don't know about you but I'm starving." To be honest, he didn't care about where they went, he just didn't want to be under the watchful eyes of the public for such a vulnerable moment.

(Y/N)'s lips turned up at his words. "You paying, rich boy?"

"As long as you let me make up for all these years," he countered. If they wanted to, Jason fully intended to bring (Y/N) back into his life. He never realized this empty hole in his heard had been because of them. His whole childhood revolved around their times together. He craved that again.

"You drive a hard bargain." (Y/N) stuck their hand out for Jason to shake. He accepted it gladly. "You've got a deal Jason Todd. It's a pleasure doing business with you."

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316 notes · View notes

auspice-writes · 2 years ago

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Wahoo!! it’s done!!

Warnings: mild gore, abandonment, death, attempted murder, magic surgery, implied dissociation in pov character

Cecile Dies At The End.

The morning after the wedding, Cecile was anything but pleased. Her new husband who did not love her, slept beside her, her new ruby glinting on the nightstand. Cecile’s neck craned up, and she looked at first one, then the other. If she had been a different woman, she might have let her heart ache at the situation. Slowly pulling herself up, through the foothills of pillows, she looked at the man she’d married with the same calculating eyes she’d lain upon everyone else.

Atlas was not a bad man, exactly. He was no fairytale villain, despite the role he would play in her life, despite the fact he was a kind of pretty that made Cecile feel guilty to look at him. She looked away, forgetting last night, and slipping out of bed. In spite of her attempts not to wake him, came the creaking of his yawn, and languid movements. Like a cat in a favorite patch of sun, he writhed around, before pulling himself up and twisting to face her. It unnerved her, how he twisted; he twisted too far to be comfortable, she thought. It shouldn’t be so easy for him to move like that. His eyes settled upon her, and she thought of the mouse she saw yesterday running from a cat. Idly, she wondered if her sister Adalaide had been right.

“Good morning, My Jewel,” he sang, in low notes, in a creaking and tired voice. A sharp-toothed smile settled upon his face, as he laced his fingers together and twisted around again, now onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hands.

Realizing she had held still, watching him, Cecile made her way to her vanity, picking up a comb. “Husband,” she said, getting used to the sound of it, “Good morning.”

He chuckled at that, swinging his body around, and pulling his body out of bed.”Are you well? How did you sleep?” he murmured, looking at her in much the same way she had when she’d first awoken.

In the morning light, Cecile had a much better look at the rest of him, and not just his fey features, and once again was unsettled. Thin enough to see his ribs, and- She glanced away, feeling her face heat. Through her hair, the comb ran. “I am well enough,” Even to her own ears, she sounded dispassionate, “I slept well.”

Atlas nodded, dressing himself in handsome sepia monochrome; a wellfit waistcoat, paler button down, and trousers neatly tailored to his gaunt form. Silence hung in the air, as if he wasn’t sure of what to do now. Now that they were married, there was nothing but fear to stop them. Atlas didn’t break the silence, but he did break the stillness with sudden movement. He took the ruby, and took to his wife.

She moved back, instinctively, yelping as she crashed into the vanity. It wobbled, the mirror threatening to tip in its fastenings, and a thankfully-closed small pot of some salve or lotion jumping to the hardwood floor. It sustained but a crack. From downstairs, a tea kettle whistled. Atlas’s mask melted, eyes widening, lips twitching down into concern. At the same time, Cecile swept downward, picking up the jar, setting it firmly down in its place. The comb in her hair was forgotten, as she clicked into the proud stance she walked the streets with. Even in her nightclothes, at her average stature, it– Would have been intimidating, had Atlas been anyone else. The worried man let the ruby weigh down his pocket, as he backed up.

“Adalaide is waiting downstairs,” he soothed, hoping to rid her of this fear. They both knew they had such a short amount of time to get what they wanted; Cecile’s eternal life. It had been the reason for their marriage! Cecile took an unsteady breath, and sharply nodded. Yes, her sister was right downstairs. Her sister, who had sworn this would make her grave. Who’d possessed but for a time the Ruby that would weigh her soul down.

Atlas made his way downstairs. Through the hall, leaving Cecile alone to dress. The halls were gorgeous, and a painting he had commissioned of them both hung outside their bedroom. Light as air, his footsteps barely made noise as he padded down the spiral staircase. Padded into the room to go meet his new sister-in-law, who happened to be brewing some almond tea.

Unbeknownst to Cecile, as she pulled her hair into a half chignon, the laughter she heard floating up the well was not indicative of joy. It was one of amusement, surely, and she smiled about that, picking up a red vial, ignoring the strands of silver. No, she could not hear the precise words, but she could hear her husband’s voice cut clear, as she buttoned up her blouse. He sounded calm. She could not hear her sister. Had she, she might have then known just how dire the situation was.

Adorned in her fine dress, Cecile made her way down the staircase. She lingered in front of the painting, her own painted lips twitching into a grin. It had been painted a week ago, the both of them in their wedding clothes. Cecile Gray and Atlas Fairchild. How long would the both of them look like that? Skin smooth and clear, mood bright. Though, she supposed, the artist hadn’t quite captured the glint of their eyes. Her own inky eyes were difficult to capture, she knew that, but Atlas’s tawny eyes shouldn’t’ve been nearly so difficult. She did not think of the gray she had seen in the mirror, the gray that was not in the portrait. Reminded of her goals, she turned away from the painting, and carried on down the stairs.

As Cecile descended, she heard the conversation from the kitchen, and she ignored the ice suddenly shooting through her heart.

“Really now,” came the playful and chiding voice of her husband. “Cyanide won’t do a thing, Ada dear.”

“You’re a monster, Atlas,” followed her sister, sounding defeated.

“Yes, you should have factored that in if you were going to poison me. Iron shavings, now, that would have worked.”

Good god, Atlas was laughing. Cecile’s icy heart sped up, her feet following the pattern. Leaps and bounds down the stairs, railing clutched tightly, so that she mightn’t get tripped up by her skirts.

Arriving in the kitchen, chest heaving with her heavy breathing, she was taken aback. There they stood: Atlas and Adalaide. Kitchen hardly out of sorts, but for the pot of water on the stove. Sister far more out of sorts; hair undone, her waistcoat rumpled, her unpainted lips twisted into an angry frown. Atlas was ruffling her bobbed hair, grin showing off those damnable sharp teeth. A bad idea, as Adalaide snatched his arm away, and was about to speak- before noting the presence of her younger sister.

The young butch’s shoulders snapped back, hands moved to smooth her clothes. Which did nothing to hide the distinctly non-pocket watch bulge in one pocket. Warmly, Adalaide turned to greet her sister.

“Good morning, Cece,” she sighed, the presence of her sister calming her.

Oh, that nickname hadn’t been used since childhood, and Cecile swallowed her discomfort. “Adalaide,” she returned. “Are you alright?”

Ada’s hand cut through the air, as if to brush Cecile’s worries away. “Of course I am, I was simply having a discussion with,” a sharp glance toward Atlas, “him.”

Bolstering this, Atlas cut in, “My darling sister-in-law was making us morning almond tea!” As if to drive in the point, or perhaps in sheer appreciation, he took a sip of the drink. “Why don’t you have a cup?”

Her stomach turned, but she couldn’t find it in her to resist. She didn’t want to rile the situation up again, curious though she was. Stretching up to the cabinet, she fished out her favorite mug. God, this house must’ve been made for giants. Though, she supposed, given her husband’s height, it might have been.

Morning ritual carried on; Adalaide picked the teapot up, pouring the tea into the mug. Cecile took a sip, the warmth spreading through her hands and throat. Ugh, she hated how easily it soothed her. Was it the tea, or the routine? Regardless, she did enjoy it.

Getting away from the interloper, Adalaide bee-lined for the pantry, fetching a floral-print jar. Opening it, the kitchen filled with the scent of biscuits, and for just a moment, they might have been back home. Cecile could have thrown all of this away yesterday, instead of locking herself into this fate. Yes, this is how things were, there had to be no chance of running. There had to be no fear. This had to work, or- Well, it wouldn’t matter.

Biscuits, tea, the morning ticked away. No eggs, no bacon, no oatmeal. Not even leftover wedding cake. The wedding had gone off without a hitch, aside from her sister’s attempt, once again, to convince her to hightail it. Even now, the kitchen door was within reach. Adalaide was right there. Atlas couldn’t catch them, could he? Where would she even go? Didn’t she want this?

Thoughts interrupted by Atlas’s warm hand closing around her wrist. “We really must hurry along,” he urged. This close to her, touching her, her bones thrummed. All too aware of her beating heart, of that damnable ruby, Cecile finished off her tea, and the last bit of biscuit. Without meeting anyone’s eyes, she nodded.

Leaving the kitchen, wrist-in-hand, they continued on. Unable to look at him, unable to face the way he loomed over her, she let her gaze fall upon the walls. They’d been painted green, had plenty of pictures hung upon them. She remembered how the man she married had been, when they hung them up. Portraits of family, of faraway woods, of a castle that looked fantastical. How masterful. They passed door after door in the corridor, which felt near endless, but at last?

Atlas let go of her wrist, to graze his fingers over the lock of a door. “Open,” he suggested, voice stern. The lock obeyed with a click. Cecile chose not to think about it, as they started their way downstairs. Atlas went first, and he did not look back to ensure she followed. Once again, she made the choice to doom herself. Down the stairs, glow stones illuminated their path. Down, down, down. The air weighed on her, and she did not think of the scent of earth now filling that same air. Down, down, down.

Atlas leaped over the last two steps, and offered his hands to help Cecile over those trick steps. She took them, and followed his same path. They’d done this many times, and though she could avoid the trap itself, the fact he was willing to catch her warmed her heart. Reassuring. Adalaide had to be wrong, he wouldn’t hurt her.

To the center of the lab, they traveled. It was a strange place, though she’d become rather familiar with it over the time they’d discussed this. Strange machines snaked through the place, juxtaposed by a wooden box that made her hungry when she approached. In the center, however, was a chair, and this made her smile. It was not the chair she’d expected, but a beautiful carving- Leather straps were nailed into it, regardless. She’d have to take her place. Forcing herself forward, she did so. Seated, she took a deep breath, though she wanted to scream.

Atlas was silent as he carried out his task; strapping her down to make sure she would not twitch as he did what he must. She thought she was used to how he felt, close to her, thought that she had grown used to his strangeness. No, though she would learn to in time.

“How’s that?” he asked, crouched down as he pulled the last strap tight and buckled it.

Shifting around, or attempting to, she answered. “Tight enough.”

“Perfect,” Atlas purred. What he did next shocked her; he kissed her on the cheek. Whether or not the following laughter was genuine or not, she could not have told you. What didn’t surprise her, however, was his steady hands unbuttoning her top, rolling up her sleeve.. The cool air was welcome on her skin, really, as distant as it had begun to feel. The faery took the ruby out of his pocket, dropping it into Cecile’s lap. The weight of it felt like hardly anything at all. Perhaps it was the power thrumming through the mage-scientist’s lab, perhaps it was simply her emotions overclocking themselves, but Cecile felt calm.

Far too calm, she realized, as Atlas fetched a small tray, and wheeled a machine with odd tubes and dials and knobs. First, a towel was tucked into her shirt. Next, her skin was cleaned with some cold and foul smelling liquid. He paused, and picked up one needle, leaving the liquid to dry upon her chest. The needle made it’s way into her vein, a faint prickly sensation. Atlas picked up a shining black knife. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, but he did not hesitate. To hesitate would be to prolong her pain, she knew. Did she respond? Cecile wasn’t sure.

Detached, floating, she watched his incision into her body. Pale skin opened up, and she noted how red her blood was travelling through the tubes of the machine, how cold it felt on her body. Atlas murmured something, perhaps a prayer. He allowed her to bleed, picking up some sort of strange scissors. Cold, she was so goddamn cold. He was letting that infernal machine take it from her, and he was letting the rest spill out! She hoped that she’d managed to say that out loud. He ignored her, carrying on as he must.

“Close your eyes, my jewel,” he begged.

She ignored him, far too fascinated with this strange procedure. Immortality would be hers. Head fixed into place, muscles twitching in their bonds, Atlas picked up the bone-cutters, and removed a section of ribcage. She fell lax, leather straps holding her up. Her last sight was of her husband’s fingers, holding a shiny red something, before the light in her eyes went out, her last thought petering out into nothing.

What happened next, Cecile could not say with certainty, though later, she would be informed of it. How Atlas opened her heart up, and stole her soul. A sliver of ruby sealed in her heart, a fiber of her heart sealed within the ruby. How her blood had been replaced.

The morning after the resurrection, Cecile was pained, but pleased. Her new husband, who wrenched her from morality, slept beside her, her heartful ruby glinting on the nightstand. She had awoken in his arms. Alive. That was good. The air smelled of iron. Hunger clawed at her stomach, and she had no shirt, though both were better than death. As she rose this time, however, her exhausted husband slept on. No morning confrontation, no sound of a tea kettle. Nothing but Cecile and her mirror.

Cecile peered into the looking glass. The wound from yesterday had been stitched up carefully, and the redness of her skin made the rest of her look paler than usual. Atlas must have removed her makeup, as she could see each imperfection, the fever flush of her cheeks. Leaning in closer, Cecile analyzed herself. And pulled out a gray hair. Perfect, everything was perfect. She had what she wanted. Opening a jar with a hairline crack, she spread a healing salve over her wound.

Cecile tugged on a shirt, and clambered down the stairs. Silence filled her home.

A note with water splotches was left on the counter, magnet holding it to a teapot.

Goodbye, Cecile. I love you, but you gave your life away yesterday. I cannot, in good conscience, watch you destroy yourself. I love you, farewell. - Ada

Oh.

No, this was silly. She’d come back, wouldn’t she? Her big sister would return, and maybe yell at her, wouldn’t she?

No. No, not this time. No, this was the real price for her immortality. Unwilling to touch the note, she made herself no tea, did not fetch yesterday’s from the icebox.

Cecile went back upstairs, regarding the portrait once more. She would look like that forever, or, once her skin cleared. Would Atlas?

Atlas was asleep, and Cecile was alone.

#Cecile dies at the end #original fiction #short story #writeblr #finished works #cdate #my writing

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remakethestars · 4 years ago

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CABIN 7 — APOLLO

Headcanons.

❝There ought to be more drama, I think. A musical crescendo. Confetti.❞

— Jess Cooper, I Am Still Alive

Headcanon masterlist.

Oh, boy — this is my cabin, y'all; buckle up! 😁

Not all Apollo kids are good at everything their dad's good at, okay? I sure as heck can’t paint or play an instrument.

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of violence?

They run an underground tattoo parlor.

That's where Will & Butch got their respective sun & rainbow tats.

Apollo kids with lyrics tattooed into their skin.

Rick says there isn't much by way of décor inside, which is f*in' B.S. Apollo's the god of art; those walls have been graffitied Tangled style.

🎶 i'll paint the walls some more — i'm sure there's room somewhere! 🎶

The east wall is covered in a landscape of a sunrise, & the west has a sunset (because the sun rises in the east & sets in the — yeah, I'll see myself out).

The north & south walls & the ceiling are white, though, because it really brightens/opens up the space (C7 has the 2ⁿᵈ most campers under C11 because Apollo's a slut; things can get a little crowded in the summer).

When there’re celebrations, the artistically inclined kids bust out the face paint. Especially for the younger campers.

The artistically inclined are the ones that paint the camp beads for the end of the summer. Despite the numbers, it doesn’t take them as long as one might think.

Rick said the ceiling had cedar beams, but we're not gonna do Cyparissius dirty like that. Cypress wood is good for building; the beams are cypress. You know what? F*ck you — the whole dang cabin's cypress!

There’s a massive, potted aloe vera plant by the steps that gets moved into the C4 greenhouse in the winter. It’s one of those old ones — because everyone knows the old aloe plants work better for burns & blisters than these sh¡tty new ones. (It’s constantly getting broken off to heal burns & stuff.)

Rick said there are potted red & purple hyacinths in the window & yellow flowers from Delos. That's true.

I'd say the flowerbeds around the cabin are full of healing plants, but I feel like they'd be better off around the infirmary for obvious reasons.

I do feel like there's a laurel tree planted outside C7, though, because Apollo's a pining b¡tch.

And there's an actual infirmary building, okay? Rick's kinda inconsistent about that. Sometimes he says "infirmary," sometimes he says the Big House is running over with injured, & apparently there's a cot dead center for injured in C7? B.S.

Or maybe I've just read too much fanfic, and the authors don't get it right?

Either way, there's an infirmary building with surgery & delivery rooms. One floor. Locker room for C7 kids to store their scrubs & sh¡t.

They go for yellow scrubs, though, because orange C.H.B. scrubs make them look like escaped convicts.

Fun Band-Aids™

They give out little orange stickers with laurels around the edges that are like I voted! stickers, but they're injury-specific.

I got my leg(s) reattached! & Percy Jackson shot me in the butt! & I ticked off Clarisse! & I made out with an Aphrodite kid in the poison ivy! & I fell off the lava wall! & I got pranked by the Stolls!

After a war or just when there’re a lot of campers in the infirmary, there seems to be a constant flow of Apollo kids singing one hymn to their father in unison to heal someone.

Sometimes, an unconscious camper wakes in a cot & thinks they’ve died & gone to the wrong afterlife for a moment because their singing sounds like angels.

The medically inclined wash their hands like surgeons.

Kind of germophobic?

They also go around tying surgeons knots in everything.

In the summer, they’re walking Banana Boat sunscreen & after-sun aloe lotion dispensers.

The medically inclined also have the world’s sh¡ttiest handwriting.

They have to work hard to fix it if it bothers them.

Can check your vitals & run a blood test just by touching you.

A lot of them casually touch their loved ones (at least, the ones that aren’t in C7) every morning to check their vitals & see how their health’s doing.

They do it subconsciously every time they touch someone & don’t notice it until they pick up something’s wrong.

They can do this for themselves as well. Though it may not be as accurate? And they take daily vitamins depending on what they need.

Organize their lives via pill box (never lose an earring).

Fight surgically. Every blade in their hands becomes a scalpel, & every time they’re going in for a kill against an armed anthropomorphic monster, they slice the tendons in its arm required to grip its weapon to disable it before going in for the kill.

Back to C7, it’s got a little porch with a porch swing. The kids sit on it sometimes & teach people how to play instruments.

They leave the porch light on at night when they’re waiting for one of their siblings to come home from a quest.

Jumping into the depressing sh¡t, they never found Michael’s body, so they only presumed him dead. They leave the porch light on every night now, hoping he’ll come home.

Apollo kids are afraid of the dark. They use the buddy system after the sun goes down.

The cabin’s central light fixture is a papier-mâché sun that’s been charmed to glow when someone sings 🎶 clap on 🎶 & stop glowing when someone sings 🎶 clap off. 🎶

The curtains are a gold fabric. They’re only closed at night. Because, again, C7 kids are afraid of the dark.

The Wikipedia says Apollo kids are cursed to be afraid of snakes (I assume by the Python Apollo killed). I feel like they’d burn a lot of aster leaves then. I read somewhere it was said by the Greeks to ward off evil spirits & snakes.

They play Go Fish with their tarot cards. They’re really good at tarot games.

Hand-drawn tarot decks featuring figures form Greek myth.

There’s a target on the back wall they practice throwing cards at. They can throw them in combat for a distraction with terrifying accuracy.

There’s a Magic 8 ball that’s passed around on the Winter Solstice (the longest night of the year), when — as a headcanon I’m sure I’ve read somewhere has indicated — they’re up all night.

Crystal balls are allowed. However, they must be covered with a cloth or placed in a box when not in use because they’re double-convex lenses, & we don’t want another incident like the fire of 1993.

Sometimes, they make little predictions throughout the day other campers may find disturbing. Such as whipping around and catching a stray arrow without warning (spidey sense?). Or cutting you off when you’re talking about someone moments before they walk into the room.

There’s a tea cart in the corner. Because tea is good for healing & they’ve accumulated an addiction.

The cart has a radio on it that’s always on at night because a lot of C7 kids can’t sleep without noise. (Inspired by @sugarandspiceandkindanice.)

Most of the time, it’s on a nearby country station that actually plays good country at night. But sometimes they switch channels — especially when there’s a new kid settling in & they could use the comfort.

There’s a portable record player there too. The shelves under the cart are full of C.D.s & records.

I’m sure I’ve read a headcanon somewhere that they sing every morning while getting ready for the day. That’s true.

The number of times it’s been “When Will My Life Begin” from Tangled is disturbing, though.

🎶 seven a.m., the usual morning lineup! 🎶

Luke said in The Lightning Thief C11 is up at 07:00 & breakfast is at 08:00, I think, but we all know Apollo’s waking his kids up when the sun rises.

A lot of the time, someone will just start out with whatever song they have stuck in their head & everyone else will pick it up.

Sometimes, this leads to members having the aforementioned song stuck in their head for the rest of the day.

Even the people who aren’t musically inclined will sing along, as they’re usually drowned out by the music kids that get really into it.

So sometimes those not-music kids will find themselves singing by themselves during the day years later & are surprised to find — they actually sound good?? Or at least not bad??? And it’s because singing is a learned skill & they picked it up.

I’m sure I’ve also read a headcanon somewhere that they sing “Look Down” from Les Mis when they have to do menial chores, but I'm adding “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” from Annie, “Whistle While You Work” from Snow White, “Happy Working Song” from Enchanted, & the Smurf song.

They break into song all the time.

Lee was glaring at Tantalus once & made the mistake of saying, “Sometimes, I wish —” and the entire cabin broke out with “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

🎶 — i'd never been born at all! carry on, carry on… 🎶

As mentioned in at least The Lightning Thief & The Lost Hero, they spend a lot of time playing basketball. You can bet your butt they do a rendition of “Getcha Head in the Game” from High School Musical every time there’s a new camper passing by.

They have a sister named Jubilee, and every time someone greets her — "Hey, Jube!" — the entire cabin breaks into “Hey, Jude” by The Beetles.

🎶 hey, Jube! don't make it bad. take a sad song & make it better… 🎶

Sometimes, if there are two campers that really need to get together, C10′ll commission C7 to sing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid (or the same song with different pronouns, obviously).

It’s usually a capella unless someone happens to have an instrument on them.

Rickrolling.

The “Macarena.”

Apollo takes clandestine recordings of their jam sessions & distributes them professionally. Whatever money’s made goes directly into their college funds or they periodically find it under their pillow tooth-fairy-style.

There’s a lot of denim because the artistic members like to paint on the backs of jackets & the pockets of jeans.

A lot of them have excellent aim with most projectiles, so they toss stuff to each other a lot. This results in them being oddly in sync, so they can catch something from another sibling without warning & without looking like Sam & Dean Winchester do in Supernatural.

Their life looks like a Dude Perfect trick shot video.

It also results in some funny looks when they hurl things halfway across camp to each other. Namely, the whistling Nerf football.

C7 is two stories. The second story has paint on every wall.

The east wall upstairs has arrows mounted that got Robin Hooded along with a little tag with the name of the C7 kid & the date it happened.

They also have arrows mounted from the first bullseye if there’s a member being taught.

Lots of musical instruments & art supplies up there.

There’s an old T.V. up there. They have all of Bob Ross’s show on V.H.S.

C7′s south wall (ground floor) holds the door to the bathroom on one side & a door leading to the stairs.

It also hosts framed photos of Charlotte, Lee, & Michael.

Instead of saying “shoot,” they say “loose.” For everything. Instead of saying “Shoot!” when they drop something, they say “Loose!”

It's kinda one of those things — like your friend starts saying something & you just integrate it into your vocabulary subconsciously.

They like to play a game where you shoot an arrow straight up & try to catch it as it comes back down.

That sounds really stupid on their part, but it actually comes in handy when someone tries to shoot them in combat & they catch the arrow, dumbfounding whoever's attempted to skewer them.

The cresting on their arrows is in Morse code of their nickname (·—— ·· ·—·· ·—··). They can take one look at an arrow & tell what’s whose.

And the paint color of the cresting tells them what kind of arrow it is — bullet tip, broadhead, explosive, etc.

Every bunk in C7 is made with hospital corners. No exceptions. The kids who aren’t medically inclined learn because all the beds being made the same way makes it look cleaner for inspection.

I can’t decide if Apollo kids have really good eyesight so they fit the Hawkeye bill or if they’ve all just read — Apollo’s the god of knowledge — & painted so much they’ve messed up their eyes.

The number of times one of them has used bowstring wax on an art project in a rush instead of glue is hilariously large.

I use String Snot, and it comes in a container that looks like a glue stick.

A lot of them wear bracers all the time.

When the time it takes to sling one’s quiver onto one’s back, grab one’s bow, knock an arrow, & draw is so long, one really doesn’t have time to also strap on their bracers before rushing out of the cabin to threaten a giant bronze dragon.

Not to mention if they use a recurve, they’ll also have to string their bow.

And a number of them do use recurves due to the abilities to both knock multiple arrows at once & to restring in the field.

Bows with risers coated in golden, reflective paint & limbs painted with artistic strokes.

Trick arrows are their jam. C9 is constantly being asked for new arrows.

Explosive arrows, sonic arrows, grappling hook arrows…

That’s another saying they’ve all taken to: “___ is my jam!”

There’s a bookshelf or reference material on Apollo for new C7 kids (as Rick’s indicated), but the rest of the case is full of medical journals & textbooks & books on art & poetry & divining the future.

A lot — if not all — of them have either gold flecks in their eyes or central heterochromia.

Freckles across their noses & shoulders & on the tips of their ears. Tans. Sun-bleached hair.

Long, nimble fingers perfect for playing musical instruments.

Either they hate the winter because the sun's out for less time (so you’ll find them walking around with blanched skin & faded freckles & with both a hoody & a parka on), or they’re perfectly fine with winter & are used by everyone around them as walking space heaters.

They spend a lot of time with Castor & Pollux.

Rachel sits at T7. She’s practically an Apollo kid at this point.

While her cave was being renovated, she stayed in C7.

Their dad’s the god of truth; none of these M.F.s can lie worth a sh¡t.

But, by the gods, they can tell when you’re lying.

And they take it as a personal insult. That you (A) would dare do something as immoral as lying in the first place & that you (B) would dare to insult their intelligence in such a way because you thought they couldn’t tell.

C6 & C7 are both known for reacting outrageously when their intelligence is insulted (see: chapter 10 of The Battle of the Labyrinth).

The more civil of the reactions of a C7 kid being lied to is cursing the liar to tell the truth, which I believe they can.

They can curse you to speak in rhyming couplets; they should be able to curse you to tell the truth.

You mean to tell me none of these kids have created a functioning Lasso of Truth yet?

This one's really long. 😅

A lot of people fancast Sam Claflin as Apollo, but I'm going with Ross Lynch. 'Cause I do what I want. 😎

Visit my Apollo cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

#Apollo #Apollo kids #children of Apollo #Apollo cabin #headcanons #headcannons #Percy Jackson #PJO #HOO #TOA #remakethestars #art #archery #painting #healing #doctors #sun #hcs #TW: mentions of violence

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