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egrets-not-regrets · 4 months ago

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Dandelions and Yarrow (2)

Despite the arid conditions and the hardened ground, these plants are still able to survive.

Amelia calls her mom and decides to go home. Alcyon rages out on a mission then goes home, only to find a note and Amelia missing.

**Any dialogue in the Gothic language is bolded and italicized.**

Chapters: One, Two, Three,

Author’s Note:

Goodness, this chapter took a while to write, but finally it is done! There is more to come.

TW angst, threats, some lewdness (Slanneshi Blood Angel, what else can I say?)

Just a few points:

This takes place before Ben/Malaran “Orca” Blackspike storyline.

Amelia is bonded to Alcyon, a chaos Iron Warrior. These two share an intense bond that teeters on the point of becoming a mate bond.

Alcyon has a pretty good grasp of the english language. He usually communicates with Amelia in english and other Astartes in Gothic.

Thanks to @squishyowl for the divider image!

Song Inspiration: Take me back to Eden by Sleep Token

OCs: Alcyon (chaos Iron Warrior), Amelia Plover

Tagged: @shadowfirecat, @kit-williams, @bleedingichorhearts, @barn-anon, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bispecsual, @ms--lobotomy

Amelia dialled a number which she hadn’t dialled for a very long time, “Aunt Mara? Mom?”

“Amelia? Oh sweetie! I haven’t heard from you in so long! I missed you so much... Are you alright?” Mara stopped when she heard the hiccups in her adopted daughter’s voice, “What happened dear? It’s okay to tell me. I’m here for you.”

Amelia started sobbing, “Mom, I fucked up so badly!”

Mara cooed soothingly, “It’s okay. You can tell me what happened. We can figure it out together…”

She heard Amelia struggle to steady her breathing, blurting out words in between punctuating sobs, trying to tell her the events culminating into the massive fight she had with Alcyon short of their physical altercation.

Mara’s heart broke for her daughter. Niece, if being technical, since Mara had adopted Amelia after her sister’s and her brother-in-law’s death in that car accident so many years ago.

Mara knew Amelia didn’t have the easiest time in her marriage and she wasn’t too happy about her daughter being in such close proximity to her in-laws to be honest, snooty bunch ultra-religious coots they were. But it seemed that her son-in-law had broken out of the religion and they were happy enough, and happier still when Amelia gave birth to Ben.

Luckily, Mara was able to see Ben grow up for a while. Despite the distance, their little family had made a few yearly visits to Gannet Point, and she visited them whenever she was able. All that stopped about three years ago when her son-in-law bonded with a space marine. She had met him once. He was a Black Templar, big, quiet, polite enough, but wholly cold and intimidating, so very different from Nemoth Bassanar, the Dark Kraken space marine who had taken residence in her hometown. Mara wasn’t quite sure what to think about the templar, but she hoped that he was kind and a good addition to their little family.

Unfortunately, the appearance of the bonded Black Templar marine started what seemed to be a series of events that led to the divorce. The fact that the Black Templar had bonded with her son-in-law had only increased the in-laws' religious fervor, demanding that Ben be raised in the ultra-religious household. It was rather unfortunate that her son-in-law seemed to cow to his family’s demands and rarely stood up for Amelia. Mara completely disapproved of that attitude, but was helpless to do anything else.

Then things started going further downhill when a chaos Iron Warrior followed Amelia home one day. Which had Mara actually getting into a nasty argument with the in-laws on the cruel things she overheard them say about her daughter when she visited. Needless to say, she wasn’t allowed to visit any more. Amelia and her ex divorced eventually, perhaps all for the better, but it hadn’t been easy as the family was convinced that she was going to corrupt Ben because she bonded with a chaos Astartes. It didn’t make sense, there were plenty of people who had bonded with chaos space marines who had no issues whatsoever.

As for the chaos Iron Warrior her daughter bonded with, Alcyon; Mara hadn’t met him yet. The one time she visited Amelia after her divorce, he had been on a mission. She just hoped that he would treat her daughter well and be her protector.

This whole mess of events made just seemed to be the culmination of everything that happened within the last year. And it broke her heart knowing that this would mean that they may never see Ben again. Perhaps Nemoth may have some suggestions on how to deal with this issue or point them in the right direction? It also wouldn’t hurt for Amelia to be around some friendly familiar faces. She’s been trying to get Amelia to come home for a while now.

Mara gently suggested, once her daughter had finished her story, “ Why don’t you come home to Gannet Point and stay however long you need. You know home is always open for you.”

Amelia smiled, quickly using the tissue in her hand to blow her nose, “I… would like that.”

***************

This mission couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. Angry and frustrated at what just transpired between Amelia and him, and irritated by the aching of his torn bond; Alcyon was just set to explode. Destroying wreckage, training and sparring with his brothers let off only so much steam. Everyone around him noticed Alcyon’s volatile mood and the fact that he was spending most if not all his time on base, though no one was dumb enough to comment after one of his battle brothers joked about him being locked out of the house after a lover’s spat during sparring and was sent to the medical ward with a broken arm and a bad concussion posthaste.

They had been tasked with bringing down a blood den that some fallen Blood Angels had formed. A blood den in itself wouldn’t have been an issue. The fact that Blood Angels require drinking human blood was pretty much an open secret at this point, it wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret with how much baseline humans liked to talk about it, given how common it is to see bonded Blood Angels.

Most blood dens that were set up tend to have baseline humans and the occasional Astartes going there seeking pleasure and/or relief and in turn being drunk from; like a well-run pleasure business. Keep customers satisfied and they would return for more, which in turn kept the Blood Angels fed and sane.

With the odd feral (usually of fallen to chaos Blood Angels) blood den, there are usually a few missing people involved, sometimes those lucky enough to be let go reappeared in some random place: weak, dazed, and confused. But this particular den of fallen Blood Angels had started targeting bonded humans.

They were psykers, not powerful ones (luckily), as reports noted, and were under the influence of Slannesh. Indulging in lust and pain of killing a hapless victim wasn’t enough once they discovered the effect of killing a bonded human. To feel the psychic backlash that a broken bond causes to both bonded parties and to its breaker was an overload of pain and sensation. It was like an addictive drug to them.

With Steelix Fortress being the closest base to the den, Alcyon and his chaos-aligned battle brothers were sent to exterminate them as these Blood Angels were deemed too far gone to be worth keeping alive.

Of course why not use chaos to fight chaos? At least that’s what it felt like, when they were given that assignment.

His squad of chaos battle brothers largely stayed out of his way as they each were let loose with their own heretic Blood Angel to hunt. There were no human serfs or thralls as the IXth Legion would call them, luckily. Otherwise it would have been a much more messy affair.

Alcyon arrived at one of the Blood Angel’s lair. The first thing his sight honed in on was the woman the fallen Astartes was drinking from. Was she… She looked so similar to…

Amelia.

The broken bond pulsed, causing the muscles in his back to seize slightly. He let out a low growl, “Let her go.”

He stared intensely at the claw and bite marks all over the woman's body. No, those were not his marks. That was not Amelia.

The woman moaned weakly. Still alive.

His tormented mind heard Amelia’s voice.

“Let. Her. Go.” His growl grew louder, more threatening, his rage building.

A wide grin came over the Blood Angel when he looked at who the Iron Warrior was staring intently at. “Oh her? Is she yours? She’s beautiful by the way, and her blood is most appetising.”

The woman whined in pain when the Blood Angel sucked on the open wound in her shoulder. He chuckled, “Her despair was incredibly satisfying. That look of betrayal when she realized the friendly Blood Angel is nothing but a farce is such delicious inspiration. These baselines are so easy to fool.”

“And your bond…” he breathed deeply, “It tears in the most delightful way, the pain from it was so profoundly stimulating.” He groaned, palming his crotch.

Alcyon stood there, silent, letting the Blood Angel monologue on, but inside, he was seething with anger.

Annoyed at the lack of reaction, the Slanneshi Blood Angel’s face fell into a petulant pout. He carelessly dropped the woman to the side, who collapsed into a boneless heap, “You Iron Warriors, are all the same: dull, boring, with no sense of art or flare.”

He then stared straight at Alcyon and started laughing hysterically, “Oh… I see now… Your bond is torn! Just not with this woman!”

The Blood Angel got up from the couch and stalked towards him with a predatory grace, “What happened? Your woman not satisfying your needs? A lover’s spat?” He said, grinning, not missing the way Alcyon’s fist tightened around his chainsaw handle. “Perhaps you’re the one not satisfying your bonded’s needs… Maybe I can assist with that… surely she would delight in someone who can take her beyond the limits of their pleasure and pain.”

Alcyon grit his teeth hard, furious at the Blood Angel’s audacity. The ache from the bond pulsed in his chest. He just needed the bastard to come within his reach; fuck using the chainsaw. That would just be a waste.

The Slanneshi Angel licked his lips, his eyes lighting up in anticipatory pleasure, “To watch the two of you suffer, watching each other as you lay dying and while I get to ravage her. Feeling your bond break and taste your despair. Oh, your final pain would be glorious! I can already taste it!” He pounced.

Alcyon had been anticipating that from him. Twisting to one side, he dodged the corrupted Blood Angel, quickly sweeping his leg causing the Blood Angel to trip and fall. He brought his heavy mechanized leg down on to the fallen chaos marine, hearing a satisfying crack as Alcyon’s full armored weight came bearing down with full force onto the vulnerable hinge of the Angel’s leg, breaking the ends of the bones attached at the knee joint.

Already half drunk from feeling the backlash from nearly breaking his earlier victim’s bond apart, the Angel only moaned in pain and ecstasy, then laughed; an ugly noise, “Jealous? I can teach you how to better use that mouth of yours. I bet she makes the prettiest noises with my tongue in her cun— grkh!” The heavy impact from the Iron Warrior’s boot to his gut drove the breath from his lungs as he was rising up.

“Shut up.”

Alcyon gave him no quarter, pinning the Slanneshi marine by the head and back, and tore into him, his metal claw ripping off the ceramite armor pieces and stabbing into the vulnerable flesh of his shoulder below. Blood gushed as muscle and sinew tore apart, the Iron Warrior’s claw digging past the scapula and to grab the humerus where it connected to the shoulder girdle. With a great heave, he ripped the arm right off the Slanneshi Blood Angel.

The Blood Angel roared in pain and flailed as he attempted to escape, splattering blood in every direction. Alcyon kept his full weight on the squirming Blood Angel and smashed his head into the ground, snarling, “Did that wake you from your drunken stupor?”

The Slanneshi marine hissed and bared his fangs at the chaos Iron Warrior, “You forget honour…”

“What honour? You have long sullied that, indulging Slannesh’s embrace!” Alcyon sneered in disgust, smashing his head into the dirt again.

The Blood Angel spat out dirt and blood, in pain, but grinning madly, “Yet you’re the one who sullied your own bond. What did you do, Iron Warrior? Did you…” he was cut off before he went into more lurid detail

“Do not. Insult me. You overindulging. Drunken. Psyker. Piece. Of grox shit!” Alcyon roared out, pounding the Blood Angel’s face harder and harder into the ground with each emphasis, not stopping, his grip tight on his scalp, his sight zoned in on the battered face.

“Brother Alcyon. Brother Alcyon!”

“What!” He snarled at whoever was calling him off his prey. The sound of buzzing insects filled his ears. The Death Guard in his squad, Polistes, stood by his shoulder with the unconscious woman in his arms, staring at the twitching body under the Iron Warrior’s heels.

“Half his face is sufficiently cracked if you intend to make scrambled eggs from his brain.” came Polistes’ joking comment, “We’re done here. I have the injured woman; finish up and let’s leave this place.”

“Fucking Slanneshi Psykers!” Alcyon spat as his heavy boot came down on the dying marine’s skull, splattering brain matter all over the ground.

Where’s Amelia? Was she hurt? Was she safe? Amelia. Amelia. Amelia. Amelia. His mind chanted as they left the blood den.

She’s fine. Probably still angry. There is no need to call… She’s not fine. What if… she’s fine… I don’t know that… Amelia… Alcyon could feel his bond pulse, his anxiety need to confirm her safety winning out. He called Amelia over vox, their fight be damned.

“Alcyon? What do you want?” Her voice, sounding exhausted, came over the channel.

“Are you safe? Are you home?” He blurted out. Alcyon knew should��ve said something to apologize perhaps, but couldn’t. In hindsight, he probably should have.

“Safe? Yes?” She sounded so confused.

“Good.” The Iron Warrior ended the call, the aching from his bond slightly abated. He needed to go home as soon as this was over. He needed to see Amelia in person and make sure his bonded was safe. She better not have changed the locks to their home while he was away… What was he thinking? Alcyon grumbled, even if she did change the locks; he could easily break in the door. Must be this aching that’s distracting him.

****************

Amelia looked at her phone strangely after Alcyon curtly ended the call. What was going on? A small part of her was glad that he checked on her, but the aches and pains in her body reminded her still to be wary of him.

She had planned to go to Gannet Point for a week and a bit to visit her adoptive mother and see the rest of home. Amelia missed her family, much more so now. It would be nice to see friendly familiar faces again. She called the base, telling the head tech that she needed to take time off to recover from the aftermath of getting banned from Ben’s school and to figure out what to do next. Which they had graciously granted.

Not wanting to risk another confrontation with Alcyon finding out where she was going, lest he decides to trap her here given his mood; she called the airport to book her ticket for the next flight out to Gannet Point.

Amelia then turned her attention to the damage on the wall and table. Sighing at the gouges, she diligently repaired the wall and the table, filling in the holes with wall putty and wood filler. She robotically moved from task to task: cleaning her home, throwing away her torn clothes, using up whatever food was left in the fridge, and packing a small suitcase of clothes and supplies for her trip.

After all was said and done, Amelia took a quick shower and sat in front of her computer. She pulled out a piece of paper and started writing a letter to Alcyon. Outside of letting him know that she’ll be away for a week and a half, Amelia wasn’t sure what else to say.

She did not want to tell her bonded Astartes, if they were still that, where she was going. Her birth home was her safe haven that she kept near and dear to her heart. The last thing she wanted was for Alcyon to come charging in to take her away and get into a fight with Nemoth, the Dark Kraken space marine who practically watched her and other children grow up at Gannet Point. Amelia’s heart felt sore; she was so tired and confused. It felt right for her to just get away from it all; go somewhere safe to lick her wounds and recuperate, and figure out what to do next. Yet guilt tugged at her chest, as if telling her that she should stay and work it out with Alcyon. Tears started to drop on the letter she was writing.

The sun just broke over the horizon when Amelia prepared to leave for her flight. She looked forlornly at the small box containing the pieces of the broken fish figurine, and in a last minute decision, packed it into her suitcase. A ping sounded as a text on her phone notified her of her taxi’s arrival. Amelia placed her letter on the table and left, locking the door behind her.

****************

Alcyon sensed something was off when he arrived at his shared home with Amelia. Her presence was fainter than normal, as if she hadn’t been home for at least a day.

His nausea started to build as he checked every room of their empty home. Everything was neat and tidied. There was no signs of a struggle nor signs of anyone else that may have snuck in. Alcyon stared at his claw marks in the walls and table that were filled and sanded. Even the fish statuette that he broke was cleaned up and likely thrown away. It was only then he realized that Amelia had not changed the locks on him. It was of little consolation when she herself had disappeared.

Where was she? Where was his Amelia?

A letter on the table caught his eye. His world narrowed with each neatly written gothic word he read:

Alcyon, I will be leaving for ten days. Don’t worry. It is safe where I am going. I just (the ink blurred there. He could smell the remnants of her tears) need to be away, to think about what I need to do next. I promise I will return. I lov- (she had scribbled out the last sentence.)

Amelia.

His lungs froze as if he had been struck by a beam from a Helfrost pistol. She left. Amelia left him. A chaos of emotions whirled uncomfortably in his gut.

No. She promised she will return in ten days. He only needed to wait ten days… what if she didn’t want to return? Bile rose in his throat. The Iron Warrior doubled over, throwing up into the kitchen sink. His metal claw dug into the counter, supporting his shaking shoulders as he turned on the faucet to wash his vomit down the drain.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by his heavy armour, Alcyon quickly stripped out of it and made his way to Amelia’s room. He hacked into her computer, searching through her emails, online messages, search history; searching for anything that would give him a clue, something, anything that could indicate where his bonded may have gone.

There was nothing. The Iron Warrior wanted to punch the computer through the wall in frustration, but had enough sense not too. A strange wave of exhaustion washed over him, a feeling he had rarely felt unless he had not slept in weeks. He was sure he had slept recently.

Alcyon looked at Amelia’s bed, a place he had shared with her plenty of times. It looked comfortable. It smelled like her. He laid down on her bed, falling asleep while breathing in her scent.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #chaos iron warriors #oc: alcyon #oc: amelia plover #oc: mara plover #cw gore #cw dubcon threats #yandere space marine #tw angst #tw yandere

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mendesxruel · 3 years ago

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𝑰'𝒎 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫

summary; Peter is back from a mission and he is badly injured

warnings; fluff!, mentions of crying and injuries, kinda sad

prompt; “Look, I appreciate your hospitality, but I can’t stay-” “Yes, you can. Now sit down before you fall over.” (from @sleepyowlwrites )

word count; 482 || (not my gif)

Tired knocks on the door woke you up from your nap. Rubbing your eyes, you got up to answer it.

When you opened it, you saw a very hurt Peter, with his face and arms injured, and tired, puffy eyes.

"Hey, y/n, I uh... came here to bring you your jacket, you left it at my place and forgot so I wanted to bring it back to you," he told you.

"Oh, thank you, Peter," you said, as you grabbed the jacket and put it aside, "but, come in. You look... terrible..., let me help you."

"Look, I appreciate your hospitality, but I can’t stay-”, he said, walking back to leave.

“Yes, you can. Now sit down before you fall over. Please."

He sighed, agreed and walked in, plopping onto your bed.

You grabbed the first aid kit you left beside your bed for when Peter was hurt like this.

"What happened in the mission?" you asked.

He cleared his throat, "almost failed... I got hurt really bad."

"Yeah, I can tell," you giggled softly at him, trying to make him laugh a bit.

He rolled his eyes and his lips couldn't help but curl into a small smile.

You grabbed a damp towel and started cleaning the wound on his cheek. Every now and then, he would complain about the pain.

While you were taking care of him, you noticed a tear falling from his eye.

"Peter, what happened?" he looked at you, "are you alright?", you asked, referring to his feelings.

He started crying, and then it turned into sobbing.

He desperately hugged you.

"I miss him, y/n... I miss Mr... Stark," he whimpered.

You pat his back lightly, "I know you do," you whispered.

He looked at you, "and I miss you too," he cried. "I keep going on these missions and we never have time for each other and-"

"It's okay, Peter," you smiled, now with your eyes filled with tears as well, "I know you're very busy, I worry about you so much and I hate to see you hurt like this..."

You held his hand and squeezed it a bit. "But I know how strong you are, physically and mentally. I know you are so strong and I am certain you're gonna get through this. I'm here for you, whenever you need me."

Peter continued crying, but your words gave him hope, which made him less miserable.

"Even if we aren't in the same place, together, I am with you. You are always in my thoughts, and I'll always be in yours," you grinned, "that's how we are going to get through this."

He leaned in and pecked your lips softly. As he backed away, he was beaming at you. He was a mess, of course, from all the injuries, the tiredness and the tears. However, he was with you, and that was all that mattered.

***

reblogs and feeback are deeply appreciated <3

taglist; @msfandomfreak @ughgclden @leossmoonn @yer-erster @the-second-tonks @niallberry @wisteria-and-nightshade (thank u so much @ughgclden for proofreading, ily)

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ynscrazylife · 4 years ago

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Is it cool if u can request a avengers x fem reader where her powers are unique and born with them and she has ice and fire powers? Like half of her body she can control ice and the other half fire? Basically hot and cold lmao? Headlamps would be nice :) maybe some romance between Natasha x reader just cuz I miss her lmao

50% ice, 50% fire, 100% smitten

Summary: Y/N is an Inhuman. Half her body controls fire and half her body controls ice. Y/N doesn’t like to use her fire side out of fear, but when she sees her crush, Natasha, in danger, she’s forced to overcome what she’s scared of.

“Everyone ready for the mission?” Steve asked the Avengers as he boarded the jet. They were all preparing to go out and kick some ass.

“Yes”’s went around.

Y/N leaned against the wall, fixing her suit. The mission was simple enough. They were infiltrating an old Hydra base. They had gotten an anonymous tip that SHIELD files had been stored there. Phil Coulson (we’re pretending that they know he’s alive) had called, asking the Avengers to investigate as the files were reportily very important for Hydra’s plans and could compromise SHIELD’s safety. Phil was too busy with other problems, so the Avengers jumped to help out in anyway they could.

However, they had to take cautions. Even though it looked like it was abandoned, they doubted that anyone would likely leave these important files without protection. Which is why Avengers were going together, not quite knowing what Hydra agents were up to now.

“All set,” Y/N said, glancing up after she finished checking that everything in her suit was good. She gave a thumbs up to Cap as she watched Clint settle himself at the pilot.

Y/N situated herself in-between Natasha and Wanda.

“You excited, little snowman?” Sam asked as he sat next to Bruce and Steve.

Y/N rolled her eyes. The team loved to come up with new nicknames for her with her powers. Humoring Sam, she waved her hand and creating a flurry of snow that floated.

Steve grinned. “You know you can’t defeat Hydra agents with a snow flurry?” He joked.

Y/N bit her lip and sent an icicle at Steve, stopping just before it impaled his nose.

“Note to self: do not piss off Y/N,” Natasha said, making her heart flutter.

Y/N glanced over at Natasha, smiling. “Clint, can you go any faster? They’re tearing into me over here!” She called.

“Hey! That’s my job!” Tony called back from beside Clint.

Wanda slung an arm around Y/N, ruffling her hair. “Just joking, little one,” she said.

“I’m older than you!” Y/N argued.

“Tomato tomato,” Wanda said.

Ten more minutes of joking around and Clint landed, a couple blocks away from the base.

“Y/N, Sam, you’re gonna go in the base from the back entrance. Nat, cover the roof. Be ready to slip inside when Bruce locates where the files are. I will wait and cover the blocks, and will come back you up. Wanda and Tony will go directly through the front entrance and then Bruce, you stay here and monitor. I’ll let you know if we need the Hulk,” Steve told everyone.

“I’m not detecting any heat signatures. It seems like no one is there - but still, be on guard,” Bruce advised everyone.

Everyone nodded and split up.

“So,” Sam said as they walked around the building. “You like Nat, don’t you?”

“What?” Y/N asked, trying to play it off with a laugh. Seeing Sam’s smirk, she gave in. “How’d you know?”

“Despite popular belief, I notice things,” Sam said.

Y/N smirked.

“You should ask her out,” Sam whispered.

Y/N pushed his shoulder jokingly.

As they got closer to the entrance, they both stopped in their tracks. About a dozen Hydra agents stood in front of them. Waiting for them.

That’s when Cap’s voice rang through.

“They masked their heat signatures. There aren’t any files. There were files here - but they’re ambushing us now to distract us and get away,” Steve’s voice rang through.

“What do we do?” Y/N asked.

“Wanda, Bruce, and Tony are gonna go after the people escaping with the files. The rest of you - fight,” Steve ordered.

With a glance at Sam, the two began.

Y/N shot icicle after icicle, trying to trap as many Hydra agents as she could. Sam was doing well, and they almost had everyone knocked out, until someone managed to knock Sam out.

“No!” Y/N yelled. She thought quickly, and saw one agent moving towards Sam. Y/N, knowing she could take on the rest, put up an ice shield around Sam’s unconscious form.

However - she quickly realized that was a distraction when an Hydra agent shot two weapons at her. One was a weapon that sent out a burning flare at her ice side, as ice and fire didn’t mix well, and one was an ice flare gun that shot at her fire side. This made Y/N scream and stumble back in pain, after securing the ice shield around Sam. It gave one of the Hydra agents with powers an opportunity to make a ton of rubble crash down.

The Hydra agents grinned as they saw the rubble cover Y/N. She was knocked out, face first into the ground, and buried. The rubble was trapping one of her arms - the arm that could control ice. The agents ran away, knowing they could go after the other Avengers and when they’d come back, she’d still be here. With their plan, no Avenger would have time to come to her rescue. They ran away.

A couple minutes later, Y/N came back to consciousness. She groaned, spitting out dirt, and yelled when she felt the pain again. Y/N saw that her fire controlling arm was freed, but her ice was trapped.

Y/N thought. She couldn’t set fire to the rubble - that would hurt her even more. She was trapped, and her comms were knocked off. Y/N looked around for anyone to help. Sam was still knocked out but . . . The roof. Natasha. She looked up, trying to find the redhead.

What she saw crushed her (pun not intended). From what Y/N could tell, Natasha was fighting off about twice the Hydra agents she and Sam had. She was confident in Natasha as she was highly trained, but if Hydra had something up their sleeve like that they did to Y/N . . .

“NO!” Y/N yelled, seeing Natasha slip off the roof and fall. A Hydra agent caught her, though, and she saw his evil smile. He was going to drop Natasha. And Natasha was gonna fall.

She wouldn’t survive that height.

Y/N saw Natasha take hold of the roof with her other hand, so she wasn’t just hanging on from the Agent. However if he pushed her off, Natasha holding the roof wouldn’t do any good.

Y/N glanced down at her freed hand. She couldn’t do it. She was too scared to use her powers. She didn’t want to. She never did. It was too dangerous, too risky . . . But now she had no choice.

“NATASHA!” Y/N yelled. The Hydra agent was too prideful just to drop her - he had to get a view snarky comments in. “HOLD ON!” Y/N pointed to Natasha’s right hand, trying to indicate that she was going to save her. The spy seemed to get the message.

Taking a breath, Y/N conjured a hall of fire - it would hurt the agent, but not too badly and threw it up at him. Natasha ducked, and it hit him. The agent flew back, and Natasha held on from the roof. She scaled the building until she found an open window, slipping through it.

A couple minutes later and Natasha was practically running towards Y/N. “Oh my god,” she said, and Y/N smiled weakly at her. Natasha immediately began getting the rubble off of her, apologizing when Y/N would gasp in pain.

Finally, Natasha got enough off that Y/N could move without pain and get up. Natasha helped Y/N stand up, and she stumbled into the spy. Without warning, Natasha picked Y/N up, carrying her birdal style.

“Natasha,” Y/N groaned, leaning her head on Natasha’s shoulder. Her left arm, the fire ice, dangled limply as did the rest of her, essentially. She just had the amount of strength able to wrap her right arm around Natasha’s neck.

“Y/N, I’m carrying you. You’re heart,” she said firmly.

“No,” Y/N said quietly. “Sam.”

Natasha turned around, seeing their teammate’s body encased in the shield. She frowned. “You’re gonna need to melt that, Y/N. I’m sorry,” she said, knowing the pain it would cause.

Y/N took some breaths and let out a small cry of pain as she just about managed to melt the ice. Her left arm fell limp again.

“Someone else from the team will get him,” Natasha said, beginning to carry Y/N back to the jet.

“Why not you, after you get me back?” Y/N asked.

“I’m staying with you. Not only did you save my life - thank you, by the way - but I care about you,” Natasha said.

When they got back to the jet, they saw that everyone else - save Sam, of course - was back.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, paling.

“A bunch of rubble fell on her. She saved my life. Someone get Sam - he’s behind the building,” Natasha explained shortly.

Clint went to go grab him while Bruce directed Natasha to the back of the jet, where a medical table and a first aid kit was. Natasha laid Y/N, who had now passed out, on the table.

“You said a lot of rubble fell on her?” Bruce asked, opening up the first aid kit.

Natasha nodded. “I don’t think it was an accident. She was trapped underneath the rubble - save her fire power arm which she used to save me,” she explained.

“Friday, can you scan Y/N and give me a list of her injuries?” Bruce asked before turning back to his friend. “Did you get hurt?”

Natasha shook her head. “Bruises, but otherwise no. Is everyone else okay?” She asked, but never took her eyes off Y/N.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. No major injuries,” he said.

Friday’s scan came back. In short, she had a broken arm, broken ankle, a stomach wound, concussion, dislocated shoulder, and a broken thighbone. She also had many bruises and cuts which were at risk of being infected.

Bruce cursed under his breath and got to work. “This is gonna take a couple hours. You should get some rest,” he told Natasha, seeing that her concern had grown.

“No,” Natasha said.

“Would she want you watching over her?” Bruce asked.

Natasha glared at him.

The next morning, Y/N woke up. She found herself on lots of painkillers and she was lying in a bed, her own bed. Looking around, she saw Natasha sitting in an armchair, reading a book.

“You’re awake,” Natasha said with a smile, dropping her book and sitting next to Y/N. “You’re going to need a lot of rest and I’ll be your doctor. How are you feeling?” She smiled.

Instead of answering that, Y/N asked her own question. “Why do you want to take care of me so bad?”

“I owe you. You saved me.”

An eyebrow raise showed that Y/N didn’t believe her. “Please don’t lie.”

“Only cause you’re injured,” Natasha said, with a smirk. “However . . . I like you. You’re cute. And I care for you. Also . . . Steve won’t let me go after the Hydra agents who hurt you and kick their asses.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing that I like you, too,” she said.

513 notes · View notes

eliemo · 4 years ago

Text

The Incident- Part 2

Summary: Sometimes, it’s dangerously easy to spiral...but Virgil’s family isn’t going anywhere.

TW: Blood and injury treatment (nothing too graphic but stay safe), panic attacks, mentions of flashbacks, past abuse

Masterpost

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222 (If i missed someone or u wanna be added just let me know!)

Roman didn’t get back until after dinner, the sun setting with brilliant orange light in the windows, still far too hopped up on adrenaline and brimming with new ideas to even think about eating yet.

He was sprawled out on the couch with his feet in Logan's lap, despite the logical side’s halfhearted protests, lamenting about his recent adventures and the inspiration they’d brought for the newest script.

Logan was pretending not to be listening, but Roman caught sight of an almost invisible smile, pride blossoming in his chest as he continued.

Virgil hadn’t come down in a few hours at least, apparently locking himself in his room due to a stomach ache earlier in the afternoon, and Patton’s worry had finally taken over, the moral side heading into the kitchen to heat up a plate of leftovers to take upstairs.

“Make sure to get him some water, too,” Logan called after him, momentarily silencing Roman’s tale. “He needs to stay hydrated.”

For a few moments, nothing changed, Roman falling back into his story, Logan’s attention switching from the creative side to the open book in his lap, the prince’s voice easily drowning out the hum of the microwave in the next room.

“Logan?” Patton called suddenly. “Did you...you didn’t break a cup or something today, did you?”

Logan froze, looking up from his book to meet Roman’s suddenly worried gaze, the living room plunged into an uneasy silence.

“No,” he answered carefully, slowly pushing Roman’s legs off of him. “Why?”

A beat of silence, followed by a bit of shuffling. “There’s a lot of glass in the trash...and I don’t--”

Roman was already off the couch before Patton yelped, the creative side racing into the kitchen and nearly crashing right into Patton, who’d been rushing for the living room.

“There’s blood,” he said, before anyone could ask any questions. “There- there’s blood...a lot of blood on the glass in- in the trash can I...Virgil, I- I didn’t realize he was--”

“Try to remain calm,” Logan said, already making his way towards the stairs. Patton grabbed Roman’s hand, the two following close behind. “We don’t know what happened yet.”

They made it to Virgil’s room, the door closed and the room seemingly quiet, and Roman stepped back to allow Patton to knock, well aware his own presence could possibly be overwhelming.

“Virgil?” Patton called, unable to keep the slight nervous tremble out of his voice. “Can we come in, kiddo?”

There was no reply, no sound from the other side of the door, and Roman didn’t miss the way Logan’s frown deepened at the lack of a response.

“We aren’t mad, baby,” Patton added, hand hovering over the doorknob. “We just wanna make sure you’re not hurt.”

After a moment of silence and an encouraging nod from Logan, Patton pushed open the thankfully unlocked door, (Roman had been more than ready to kick it down if he had to) freezing in his tracks as soon as he stepped inside.

Peering over the moral side’s shoulder, Roman could see why.

Virgil’s room was empty, bed still made and lights off, everything almost eerily still and silent. The bathroom was just as empty, the lights off and the door left ajar.

Patton whirled around, eyes wide and already filling with terrified tears. “Logan--”

“Both of you remain calm,” Logan instructed, like he wasn’t obviously seconds away from losing it himself. “Patton, come with me downstairs.”

“But he--”

“I need to get the first-aid kit,” he said. “Roman, will you keep looking up here? If we can’t find him, we’ll go to Thomas.”

It was fine. It was probably fine. Virgil’s room was likely just amplifying their stress, and making them all freak out for no reason. They’d find him, and he’d pretend to be annoyed at all the attention and worry, but Roman wouldn’t be able to help pointing out the anxious side’s rising blush.

That was how it always was.

Roman double checked Virgil’s room as the others made their way back downstairs, just to be safe, frantically checking under the bed and behind the shower curtain, all too aware of Virgil's habit of finding strange places to nap or zone out to music.

But the room was vacant, abandoned, and Roman couldn’t escape out into the hall fast enough, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Unwittingly, his mind traveled back to the last time they couldn’t find Virgil. When he’d tried to disappear, duck out for good, all because Roman never bothered to offer him a shred of kindness, none of them caring enough to see just how badly he was hurting--

He almost didn’t hear it, so caught up in his own thoughts and panic, but the tiny, choking sound from the closet at the end of the hall snapped him out of his own head.

“Virgil?” Roman called, heart sinking when there wasn’t a reply. “You over there, Hot Topic?”

His only answer was faint, labored breathing, barely audible, and Roman quickened his pace, taking a shaky breath before pulling open the closet door.

The first thing he saw was Virgil, huddled up in his usual patchwork hoodie, pressed tight into the closet’s limited space.

The initial relief at finding the other side safe quickly vanished when Roman took a step closer, dread clawing at his throat as he took in the sight.

Virgil had curled up into a tight ball, visibly trembling, eyes only half open and staring ahead at nothing, his gaze distant and glassy. His hands were pressed over his ears, and running down his arms…

Oh, god. That...that was a lot of blood.

“Virgil! Virgil, can you hear me?”

If Roman was a bit more put together at the moment, he would have moved slower or gone to get Patton or Logan to coax the anxious side out of his hiding place.

But all he could see was the blood- the fact that Virgil was hurt and Roman needed to help. He couldn’t afford to wait.

Carefully, he dropped to one knee and reached forward, placing a gentle hand on Virgil’s leg.

The reaction was immediate, Virgil jolting under the touch pressing back even further against the wall, bloody and cut up hands held up like he was trying to protect himself.

His eyes met Roman’s, growing wide in genuine terror, and the prince felt his heart break at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil was saying before Roman even had a chance to open his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry--”

“It’s alright,” Roman tried, doubting Virgil even heard. “But you’re bleeding, Virge. We gotta take care of that, ok? Logan can’t patch you up until you come out.”

Virgil shook his head, frantic. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to break it, it- it was an accident I swear, I tried to- tried to clean it up, I thought--”

Roman swore under his breath, glancing at the still empty hallway behind him. He knew he shouldn’t ever rush an attack like this, well aware Virgil was terrified and unable to think clearly but…

But aside from the bloody gashes across his palms and fingers, Roman could see a few smaller pieces of glass still wedged in the broken skin. He’d had those wounds for a few hours now at least. They didn’t have time.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment. “You’ll be alright.”

And then, without giving Virgil a chance to process the movement, Roman cupped one hand under Virgil’s legs, the other around his back, and lifted him off the floor, holding him to his chest.

He wasn’t sure what he’d thought would happen, but he certainly hadn’t expected Virgil to scream and flail like Roman had come at him with a weapon.

“Please don’t please,” he was begging, breaths quickly dissolving into frantic wheezes. “I’m sorry I hid I...I- I didn’t mean to lie I just thought...I thought…”

They were both talking in circles, desperately apologizing over each other, Roman holding him tighter as he made his way down the hall, Virgil fighting blindly to break from Roman’s hold.

“Virgil!”

Patton was bounding up the stairs first, hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes when he made it to the top step, Logan hot on his heels.

“Roman, what are you--”

“He’s bleeding, Logan!” Virgil was burying his head in Roman’s chest, even as he fought to escape, refusing to even glance at the others. “I didn’t...I don’t know what to--”

“Bring him into the bathroom,” Logan said, pushing past Patton, first-aid kit in his hand. “Hurry.”

Roman followed, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile to Patton, who was trying to comfort Virgil with words that clearly weren’t getting through.

“Sit him on the counter,” Logan instructed, turning on the sink and setting the metal box down on the closed toilet seat. “Try to keep him calm.”

That was easier said than done. As soon as Virgil lifted his head from Roman’s chest his fighting increased tenfold, thrashing and crying and begging as Roman and Patton struggled to keep him still.

What did he think they were trying to do to him?

“Roman,” Logan said, running a clean towel under the faucet. “I need you to get behind him and hold him still. Patton, keep him from kicking please.”

Patton blinked, frozen in the doorway. “I- I can’t--”

“Patton, please.” Roman had maneuvered himself until he was standing behind the anxious side, arms wrapped around his chest and shoulders as Logan carefully reached for his bloody hands. “Try and get him to focus. Tell him he’s safe.”

The request was enough to snap Patton out of his own panic, the moral side wiping away his gathering tears and rushing towards the others. He held down Virgil’s legs with one hand, cupping his jaw in the other while Logan carefully but firmly took a hold of his wrists.

“Hey, honey,” Patton whispered, voice breaking when Virgil only choked back a terrified sob. “Just focus on me, alright? Look at me, sweetie. It’s Patton. It’s Dad. I’m right here.”

For a second Virgil’s breathing slowed, just a fraction. And then he flinched so hard Roman nearly lost his grip. Glancing over at the sink, he winced when he saw Logan carefully taking a pair of tweezers to the pieces of glass still stuck in Virgil’s skin.

“I’m so sorry, Virgil,” he muttered, barely audible over Virgil’s breathing picking up again. “It will be over soon.”

Thankfully, there wasn’t too much leftover glass in his skin, Logan soon setting aside the tweezers and guiding Virgil’s hands under the water. But still, Roman couldn’t imagine how badly that hurt, or what Virgil thought was happening in his panicked state.

“I need to clean the cuts to keep them from getting infected,” Logan said after a minute, rummaging through the first-aid kit. “Hold him very still, please.”

There was barely a warning, just a slight nod from Logan a few seconds later before he was pressing something against the skin and Virgil jumped, frantically trying to break away, crying out against the pain.

There was a sob that might have been from him or Patton, but there was no way for Roman to know for sure. Not when he was so focused on not letting Virgil go, not until he wasn’t a danger to himself.

“Please,” Virgil choked out, breathing still too quick and unsteady even as Patton counted out breathing exercises. “Pl- please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Focus on my voice, honey.”

“I- I’m sorry for hiding, I’m sorry, it...I- I won’t do it again, I promise, I’m sorry just stop , please please, I’m sorry…”

And Roman felt his heart shatter.

Virgil thought this was a punishment. He thought they were hurting him on purpose.

“Logan--”

“I know, Roman,” Logan snapped, a distinct wavering to his voice. “I’m almost finished.”

Logan kept working, cleaning and wiping the blood away with quick but careful movement, growing visibly more tense with each one of Virgil’s pleads.

“You’re ok, honey,” Patton kept saying. “You’re ok. I’m right here, you’ll be ok soon. We’re all here. We’re gonna help you.”

Roman couldn’t seem to find his voice, just held on tight and rested his forehead against Virgil’s trembling shoulder, listening to his racing heart and ragged breathing, hoping the contact would do something to ground him.

It felt like hours- hours of Virgil begging his family not to hurt him, Roman helpless to do anything but watch- before Logan finally finished, wrapping his hands in bandages.

“All done,” Roman said softly. He loosened his hold when Virgil, still trembling, went almost limp in his grasp. “You’re ok, Virge. You did so well, I’m so so sorry.”

Virgil didn’t respond, eyes still wide and terrified, letting out a noise that sounded like a desperate whimper.

Patton took a careful step back, letting his hands fall to his side. “Let’s get you to bed, alright kiddo?”

Virgil still didn’t speak, his apologies having fallen silent since Logan stopped treating his wounds, the anxious side only squeezing his eyes shut and hunching his shoulders, like he was waiting for more pain.

Roman took the hint and gently gathered Virgil into his arms again, blinking away tears when he flinched at the movement.

They took Virgil back to his room, Logan bringing sleeping pills and a glass of water from the medicine cabinet.

It took a few moments to convince Virgil to take them, the anxious side frantically scrambling to get as far away from the others as he could as soon as he was set down on his bed.

But eventually, (mostly because Virgil seemed terrified of what would happen if he didn’t comply) they got him tucked under the blankets, still teary and shivering, refusing to open his eyes.

He wouldn’t let them go anywhere near him, Patton having to step out of the room when he realized Virgil’s breathing only quickened the closer they got to the bed.

It took some time, Logan doing what he could to keep Virgil’s breathing under control, Roman and Patton hovering in the doorway, but the anxious side’s eyes eventually slipped closed, succumbing to his exhaustion.

“I should have checked on him,” Patton said when they were back in the living room, squeezing Roman’s hand so tight he thought it might bruise. “He said- he...I should have known to--”

“It’s not your fault, Pat,” Roman said. “You were just giving him some space. And he’ll be fine when he wakes up, right Logan?”

He didn’t answer, the logical side lowering himself onto the armchair and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

It wasn’t until his breath caught in his throat, Logan’s hand suddenly pressed against his mouth to muffle any sound, that Roman realized something was wrong.

Patton was up off the couch in an instant, Roman close behind, but Logan quickly shook his head, moving away from outstretched hands.

He took a few heavy breaths, slowly moving his hand away from his mouth, gaze locked on the floor. Roman could see how red and watery his eyes were, even as he blinked rapidly to get rid of the gathering tears.

“Apologies,” Logan said, and Roman’s breath caught at how broken he was trying not to sound. “Please...please disregard…”

“Honey, no.” Patton kneeled in front of the chair, a steadying hand on Logan’s knee, and Roman moved to clutch at his shoulder. “Don’t keep it in. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Logan shook his head again, looking anywhere but Patton. “I am...I am logic. I am not supposed to--”

“Will you cut the bullshit, Specs?”

Patton gasped. “Roman!”

Roman didn’t bother correcting his language. He squeezed Logan’s shoulder, knowing it helped to calm Virgil down and only able to hope it did the same for the logical side.

“You’re allowed to feel,” he said. “You can feel whatever you want whenever you want. You don’t need to pretend like you don’t.”

Logan shook his head once again, even as a few stray tears escaped and Roman wiped them away with his thumb. “It’s...it isn’t logical for me to be--”

“Emotions don’t have to make sense,” Patton said gently. “And no one’s going to think of you any differently for feeling.”

“You were trying to help Virgil,” Roman added. “You were trying to save him, and he thought you were hurting him. I’d say it’s fairly logical to be upset after that.”

And that was apparently enough to break the dam, a choked sob escaping from Logan, and this time he didn’t try to fight against it.

Roman rubbed his back as he tipped forward, forehead resting against Patton’s chest, the moral side crying along with him as he cupped the back of Logan’s neck.

“It’s ok,” he muttered. “We’ll be ok. It’ll be better in the morning.”

Logan curled further into Patton, clutching at his blue shirt. “I hurt him, I...I had to hurt him.”

“You were helping him,” Roman corrected, shifting positions to wrap his arms around both Logan and Patton. The angle was a bit awkward, but they seemed to relax slightly. “If you waited any longer, it just would have been worse. He’ll understand that when he calms down.”

“What if he doesn't?”

Roman wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to being the one to calm Logan down, to talk him through a problem. As relieved as he was that Logan wasn’t forcing himself to stay put together...he wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” Patton jumped in, glancing up to smile through his tears. “Because we love him. And that’s never gonna change.”

They were silent after that and Roman forced himself to relax under Patton’s optimism, as forced as it clearly was. There was no way to tell what Virgil would think when he woke up.

Not for the first time, Roman thought about grabbing his sword and hunting down each and every person who had ever dared to lay a hand on Virgil with malicious intent, every person who had ever let him feel worthless and unwanted.

But then again, if he were to go that far he’d have to turn his own blade on himself.

Things were different now, though. And while he and Virgil hadn’t always gotten along in the past, Roman had never once considered hurting him. No one deserved the treatment Virgil had been given.

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend how anyone could see Virgil- sweet, scared, and caring Virgil , and decide they wanted to hurt him. Break him down until he was terrified of making the smallest mistake, convinced no one could ever accept him.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Roman said suddenly, not really meaning to speak out loud. “What they did to him. Virgil didn’t deserve that.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Patton said, with so much raw pain and hurt that Roman was once again forcibly reminded that Patton wasn’t just at the core of happy emotions. “But he’s safe now. Sometimes he’s just...gonna have to be reminded of that.”

And they would remind him. Over and over again if they had to. Like Patton said, they would figure it out.

When Virgil woke up, it was to a foggy head and a throbbing, itching sensation in his hands.

He finally blinked open his eyes when, after trying to scratch at his palms, he found only tightly woven bandages and a new spark of white hot pain up his arm.

Slowly, careful not to put any weight on his hands, he sat up in bed and leaned up against the headboard, suddenly weak and shaky as the whole room momentarily started to spin. He shut his eyes, walking himself through his breathing as he let the memories from yesterday wash over him.

Right. The broken glass, the panic attack, trying to hide and then…

Oh shit. God, what had he done? He couldn’t quite focus, couldn’t really remember where his thoughts had been through the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together as they all came flooding back.

He couldn’t even imagine how much he’d upset them. God, they were probably terrified. They’d just wanted to help and all he’d done was panic and fought, completely losing control just because of one stupid mistake.

A mistake that would have gotten him days of pain before…

But it wasn’t like that anymore. He should know that by now. The others tried so hard to help and he still couldn’t even control himself.

They’d...they’d never seen him panic like that before. He’d definitely done a number on his hands without even realizing, and he’d been too far gone to differentiate between help and punishment.

They’d thought he was getting better. They often told him how much progress he was making, even if Virgil couldn’t see it himself.

Well, obviously...obviously they wouldn’t think that anymore. Jesus, he’d locked himself in a closet covered in blood for who knew how long.

Honestly, what the hell was the point in keeping him? Why would they want him to stick around if all he did was terrify and hurt the people he loved?

Logan had said Virgil helped them. Roman had once said he made them better. Patton promised they all love him.

He was having a difficult time focusing on any that right now, forcing himself out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom.

Virgil took one look at himself in the mirror and quickly turned away, a dangerous wave of self loathing immediately rising in his chest.

He should probably tell someone about that. Assuming they would still be able to look him in the eyes after last night.

Besides, he looked awful. His hair was horribly disheveled and his makeup was fading and smeared all the way down his face, eyes heavy and bloodshot.

His hoodie was neatly folded on the counter, cleaned of any bloodstains, along with a roll of clean bandages and a bottle of disinfectant.

Good. He wasn’t about to force anyone to take care of him again.

He changed his clothes and washed his face, not in any particular rush to leave his room, each movement making him more and more lightheaded, his hands protesting every little thing he did.

He couldn’t even put on his makeup, the pain too intense and hands too unsteady when he tried to grab the brush, nothing to hide the natural bags under his eyes, nothing to hide how pitiful and scared he looked.

It took a good ten minutes to get his bandages off, biting his lip to keep from crying out as he peeled off the paper, grimacing when he saw the far from healed cuts that littered his fingers and palms.

He’d done that to himself without even realizing it. There’d probably been glass stuck in his hands before someone came along and practically forced him to accept help. And he’d fought back like nothing had changed, like he was being punished, brain running on autopilot.

God, he was pathetic. Maybe he should just stay up here forever, isolate himself like he used to. He’d never have to be afraid of disappointing anyone again, and he doubted the thought had never crossed the other’s minds.

It...it wasn’t a bad idea. He hated it, of course. The thought of losing his family hurt worse than rubbing the disinfectant on his wounds.

He loved them. He loved what he had more than anything. But it wasn’t fair. He wasn’t getting better, that much was clear now. They deserved to be happy. And they couldn’t have that with him hanging around.

But he at least owed them an apology first. He wanted to make sure they knew they hadn’t done anything wrong.

So he wrapped up his hands as best he could with fresh bandages, taking a shaky breath before slipping on his hoodie. Pulling up the hood was the best defense mechanism he had right now, and the familiar warmth of the cloth offered a small amount of comfort.

It was almost eleven in the morning by now, which meant the others already had breakfast hours ago.

Virgil did his best to convince himself that they wanted to let him sleep in, and not that they just didn’t want him around.

It was annoyingly difficult to make it downstairs, his head pounding and vision strangely blurred. He almost wished he could just go back to bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

But he was at the bottom step without even fully realizing he’d kept moving, freezing when he glanced up at the living room.

Patton, Roman, and Logan were seated on the couch, the TV turned on low to what was probably an old Disney movie, the three very obviously paying little attention to the screen. Patton and Roman were restless, Logan staring blankly, lost deep in thought.

They were waiting. Waiting for him . And suddenly Virgil really wanted to go back to his room and sleep for the rest of his life.

But that wasn’t fair to them. Nothing he did seemed to be lately. He stepped off the stairs, still using the railing to keep himself balanced, and cleared his throat.

“Uh, m-morning guys.” He hadn’t meant to stutter, and he winced at how broken and cracked his voice was, vaguely remembering screaming the night before.

Immediately, all eyes in the room were on him and Virgil had to fight the urge not to flee and lock himself in a closet again.

“Morning, Kiddo!” Patton moved like he was going to rush over and hug him, quickly stopping himself as Roman put a hand on his shoulder. Right. No one was going to want to hug him right now. “How’d you sleep?”

Virgil shrugged, staring firmly at the ground and trying not to sway. “Fine. No nightmares this time.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Logan said, standing along with the others. “But you’re likely still exhausted. Why don’t you take a seat?”

Virgil didn’t see a reason to argue, making his way to the empty armchair, knowing there was absolutely no way to hide how unsteady he was on his feet.

“Virgil,” Logan said when he was settled, and Virgil braced himself for the worst. “When was the last time you ate?”

Oh. Right, that would...probably explain his killer headache. “Uh, breakfast. Yesterday.”

Patton made a startled noise, already hurrying towards the kitchen before Virgil could muster up the strength to stop him.

The rest of them were left in heavy silence, Virgil refusing to look up from his lap while he absently picked at his bandages, until Patton returned moments later with a piece of bread with jam, and a cup of iced water.

Ice water in a plastic cup. He tried not to think about the implications of that.

“Thank you,” he muttered, and tried to ignore the fact that everyone was probably staring at him as he shakily picked up the piece of bread.

He was starving, but the anxiety churning in his gut was making him feel like he might throw up, and the last thing he needed to do was make another mess. So he ate his food slowly, sipping idly at the water, wincing at the lingering pain in his throat.

When he finished, he set down the now half empty cut, folded his hands in his lap and waited for the inevitable.

“Alright,” Logan said after a moment, and Virgil tried not to flinch. “I...believe we should talk about what happened last night.”

“Logan,” Roman chided, sounding more scared than upset. “He just woke up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Virgil said. The thought of delaying any longer was somehow even worse, and he didn’t need everyone pretending things were ok when they so clearly weren’t. “We can...we can talk about it now.”

A part of him, the part that had been in complete control yesterday, expected to be yelled at. He’d ruined their night, their lives, and he had the audacity to come down here like he was still welcome.

He pushed that voice away, and risked a glance up when he was met with silence, catching Logan sharing a small frown with Patton and Roman.

The logical side inched closer, taking a breath before speaking again. “How much do you remember?”

“Most of it, I think,” Virgil said. “I know...I know you guys weren’t, uh, trying to hurt me. For breaking that glass. I mean, I didn’t yesterday but...I know that now.”

He hadn’t thought he’d needed to say it, but that was quickly disproven by how quickly the tension in everyone’s shoulders suddenly dropped, a watery smile growing on Patton’s face.

“I must have really freaked out, huh?” Like the loss of his voice wasn’t proof enough, memories of his own screams and his family’s frantic apologies. “I-I’m sorry you guys, I didn’t--”

“You were having a panic attack,” Logan said, calm as ever. “As well as what were likely some very intense flashbacks. There is no need to apologize for that.”

“Right.” He was always told not to apologize, not to blame himself. It didn’t get rid of the suffocating guilt. “I’m still sorry. For scaring you.”

“We were only scared because you were hurt!” Roman exclaimed. “You were practically bleeding out and you didn’t even seem to realize. We’d never seen you that far gone before!”

Virgil flinched, pulling his knees up to his chest, an old familiar defense. He knew Roman didn’t mean it as an accusation, but the guilt kept curling around him, tighter and tighter.

“We just want you to be safe,” Patton said, soft and quiet. “We don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Virgil nodded, not really sure what to say, digging his thumb into the palm of his hand like the sudden flare of agony could be of help. “I know.”

The room fell back into an awkward silence, Virgil warily shifting his gaze between the three of them, then back down at his own feet, wondering if they were waiting for him to say something.

“I think,” Patton spoke up after what felt like an eternity. “We should talk about why this happened.”

Right. Virgil had to tell him that they hadn’t done anything different or wrong, that he was just like this, and it was unpredictable and not worth the effort of trying to fix.

He opened his mouth to say just that, but Logan beat him to it.

“We assumed it was the glasses breaking,” he said. “Are we correct in that assumption?”

Virgil nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment, panic and guilt steadily building up as he half expected to be chided or told off. He’d made so many mistakes since being accepted, something as stupid as breaking a cup shouldn’t send him spiraling like that.

But Logan just gave a small smile in response, apparently pleased with the answer. “Please understand, Virgil, that it is completely reasonable for you to react so strongly.”

Virgil scoffed before he could stop himself, startling when there was suddenly a hand gently rested over his. He refused to look at Logan, clenching his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might break.

“It is,” Patton said from his spot by the couch. “You’d never...broken anything before. The other things you thought you’d be in trouble for were just...silly little things. We get that this might be...a bigger deal to you.”

“It’s…” Virgil paused, swallowing. “It’s still stupid.”

“It was a relapse, Virgil,” Logan corrected gently. “There’s no shame in something like this. Recovery is not linear. It never will be, and that’s quite alright.”

And this...this wasn’ fair. This wasn’t how they were supposed to be reacting. Virgil was horrible. He was terrible and awful and all he did was make everyone stressed and scared and miserable.

He’d screamed and fought when they were trying to help him, panicked over meaningless things too many times to count, and they still...why were they still being so patient with him? Why were they so nice?

Why would they give all this kindness to the person who deserved it the least?

“Perhaps,” Logan continued, when it was clear Virgil wasn’t going to answer. “We should inform you of what we’ve done in an attempt to ensure this doesn’t occur again.”

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed at that phrasing, wide eyes going immediately to Roman and Patton, but they just offered reassuring smiles and encouraging nods to Logan.

“The first thing we did was replace all glass cups and dishes with plastic ones,” Logan explained. “However, based on past experience I’ve determined that the sudden noise is also incredibly detrimental to your mental state.”

“I- I guess--”

“It’s only a temporary fix, of course, but we had Roman put a rug in the kitchen underneath the cabinets. It’s aesthetically pleasing- thanks to him, and it should muffle the sound if someone happens to drop something. Hopefully, that will alleviate some stress in the future.”

And Virgil...Virgil kind of wanted to throw up. Because that might be the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

He’d fucked up again, showed them that he was unfixable, and they’d responded by remodeling their kitchen.

“Of course it is not a- Virgil? Did I say something wrong?”

Virgil wasn’t sure when he started crying, but suddenly it was all too much, the guilt finally overwhelming. He was so unworthy- undeserving of every kind smile, every gesture, it made him sick.

He shook his head, the only sound he was able to manage being an awful sounding sob that worsened the pain in his throat, but at the moment he didn’t even care.

“What’s wrong?” Roman was asking, clearly distraught (Virgil had upset him again), and suddenly Patton was in front of him, gathering him into his arms.

Virgil knew he should pull away, refuse the comfort and distance himself. But he was selfish, melting into the warm embrace with another shuddering sob, unable to stop himself from holding on.

“Deep breaths, honey,” Patton said, voice barely a whisper. “Can you tell us why you’re upset? Are you just overwhelmed?”

He shook his head, taking a few desperate breaths, struggling to find his words.

“It’s...I...you shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have to do this. All of this. With- with the kitchen and the cups and the plates--”

Roman stepped closer, hand on the back of the chair. “Is it not going to help?”

“It will,” Virgil said, because it was perfect and they were perfect and that was the problem. “It will but it...it’s too much, and it’s just a hassle for you guys and I should just--”

It was Logan’s turn to cut him off, sounding painfully worried. “You...do you think we care more about the cups we use than your comfort?”

“It’s not about the cups!”

He pulled away from Patton as soon as he realized he’d shouted, shame now mingling with the guilt, and Virgil had to forcibly remind himself to breathe.

“Sorry,” he gasped, shrinking back against the chair. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to...I can’t do anything right and I just--”

“Hey.” Patton cupped his cheek, and Virgil quickly fell silent. “We both know that’s not true. Take a deep breath and tell us what’s wrong, ok?”

Virgil nodded, Logan and Roman watching patiently, Logan’s hand still gently cupping his own, keeping him from digging his nails into the bandages again.

After what he’d put them through last night, he needed to just get everything out in the open. The sooner the better.

“I’m not getting better,” he said, continuing over the expected protests. “I’m not. I know recovery isn’t linear or- or whatever, and you all say I’m making progress but...but last night was bad. And who knows if it’ll happen again, and I don’t...I never wanted to put you guys through something like that.”

“Virge,” Roman said. “It’s not your fault.”

Virgil wasn’t really in the mood to debate that. He couldn’t control it, as much as he tried, but it was still his fault the treatment had ever happened. He’d let himself get hurt, over and over again.

He shrugged, wiping at his eyes. “You guys are...you...you’re great. All of you. Nobody’s ever...done all of this for me. But I can’t do anything for you except...except make everything worse.”

“Virgil--”

“And I get it.” He couldn’t seem to stop now, desperate for it all to be over with. “And I know you all wouldn’t...say anything but, that’s ok. You- you’ve all helped me a lot. And I can...I can go back. I know it’s too much.”

Roman frowned, and Virgil felt him go very still. “Go back?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You know, to...to how things used to be. Me up in my room all the time so you guys don’t have to keep dealing with this.”

Roman’s eyes widened, sharing a look with the others that could only be described as one of horror. “Virge, we’re not gonna ask you to leave!”

“I know!” Because that was the whole point, wasn’t it? They would never ask him to do that, no matter how much better things would be without him. They were too good. “I- I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m offering.”

It was the right thing to do. It was. They tried so hard, and they deserved so much better. And Virgil...Virgil was better off alone, anyway.

It would be ok. It shouldn’t hurt this bad.

“I love you guys.” It did. It did hurt this bad. “I don’t want to make things harder for you anymore.” It felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. But this was for the best, this was--

There was a hand grabbing his chin, not hard enough to hurt, moving his head up until he was face to face with Logan. Logan, whose eyes were red and watery.

He’d made Logan upset. He’d made logic cry.

“Virgil,” he said, never averting his gaze. “You’re an idiot.”

“Logan!” Patton gasped, and suddenly there was another hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “He’s not angry, honey. You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m furious,” Logan said, and Virgil’s heart sank until he continued. “I’m furious at whoever left you feeling this way. Believe me when I say I will continue to do whatever I can to undo it. But you, Virgil, are an idiot if you can think for one minute that your trauma is all you have to offer.”

“Lo--”

“We love you, Virgil. All of you. That means your past, your mistakes, your relapses, all of it. Because that includes all of the good.”

“You make us better,” Roman added, sincere and strong. “I mean that every time I say it. You protect us, you bring us closer, and you make us happy.”

“I...I don’t--”

“You do.” Patton was in front of him again, Logan having let go of his jaw. “I know you can’t always see it, but you do. We wouldn’t be complete without you. We weren’t complete until you came along. So don’t you think for a second that we would ever give up on you. You’re worth everything, kiddo.”

Virgil couldn’t really see at this point, vision blurred completely by the neverending trail of tears, but right now he didn’t really care. The guilt was fading for the moment, that ever present voice in the back of his head finally being silenced.

“What we’re trying to say,” Logan added, not bothering to wipe away his own tears. “Is that we have no desire to ask you to leave. And at this point, I doubt we’d let you if you tried.”

Roman’s smile brightened, and Virgil felt himself blush when the prince winked at him. “Yes, we’ve grown rather fond of you, Doctor Gloom.”

Virgil sobbed again at the nickname, but he was smiling through his tears now, blindly reaching for all of them. And they were there, without even needing to be asked, one last silent reassurance that they meant what they said, that he didn’t need to go anywhere.

“Come on,” Patton said, pulling away after what might have been hours. “Let’s get you some real food. And I’ll show you the new cups- Logan let us make them pretty colors!”

For just a second the voice was back, telling him it was too good to be true, that he should duck out now and never leave his room again.

He didn’t even give it a second thought, brushing the dark thoughts aside and allowing himself to be dragged to his feet, following his family into the kitchen.

For the moment, even if it wouldn’t last, he let himself relax.

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 30

Ignoring an Injury

Ao3

For @fidothefinch, I really hope you don't mind how fluffy this one got.... This one gave me a lot of feelings about Dick and Damian.

Summary: Damian get's injured on patrol, and out of fear of being sent away, he says nothing.

-o-o-o-o-

The Batmobile came screeching to a halt inside the cave, and Damian did not waste a single second jumping out of the car and stalking to the changing rooms; his cape carefully placed over his shoulders and his hood pulled up to make it seem that he’s as grumpy as he looks.

He’s not grumpy. Not right now. But Grayson doesn’t need to know that. Damian just needs him to believe it for the moment.

“Damian, you did good out there,” Grayson calls, but Damian ignores him, biting the inside of his mouth. He’s sure if he turns around, he’ll see Grayson wearing a hurt face beneath his pulled down Batman cowl. Damian doesn’t care.

He shoves himself past the butler who’s holding two steaming cups of calming tea, something he normally looks forward to at the end of a patrol, but right now must be ignored. The second he vanishes into the changing rooms, he releases a shaky breath and locks the door behind him. He waits until Grayson begins to whisper worries to the butler, things about how he thought Damian was in a good mood tonight and sometimes he’s not sure how to read Damian...

Which is fine. Damian doesn’t be read tonight.

It makes it easier to shrug off his cape and look at his side, where his red tunic is stained a darker shade of the same color. He brings his fingers to his side and pokes his fingers through the hole in the fabric, wincing at how the stab wound in his stomach smarts angrily and dribbles a few streams of blood down towards his pelvis.

He winces and brings his hands away, wiping his gloves off on his tunic. Stupid. Pathetic. Reckless. Rash. He’s normally better than this. The thought that this wound was delivered by a druggie made his toes curl in shame. He was only trying to take the drugs away. He didn’t see the small switch blade until it was in his stomach.

It’s a good thing it hasn’t hit anything important. Damian can tell.

He’s learned to be able to tell from a young age.

He exhales as quietly as he can through his nose before looking around the changing room for his clothes. Thankfully, the change of clothes are all loose fitting and warm. Sweats, a long sleeved shirt, and a hoodie that he slips over his head with minimal breaks in between to force himself to ignore the pain in his side.

He takes a deep breath, fixes his clothes, then stuffs his Robin tunic under his baggy sweater.

It presses against his wound, which hurts, but it will be hidden so he can retreat upstairs with minimal questions. .

With a final, encouraging inhale, Damain exits the changing booth and makes a bee-line towards the manor stairs. Grayson seems to be inside his own changing room, and the Butler is simply standing by the computer giving Damian his normal narrowed eyes.

He’s not stopped leaving the cave, and he’s not stopped in his fast walk through the manor. He keeps his breaths even and he forces himself to ignore the stretching of his abdomin as he rushes upstairs. Eventually, he finds himself in his room, biting his lips to push through the pain. He locks his door behind him then kneels down by his bead to pull loose a single floorboard. He pulls out a small first aid kit filled with things he’s slowly stolen from the medical room in the cave over the few months he’s been here and then settles down on the floor. He slips off the hoodie and the shirt before digging through the first aid kit, bringing out a curved needle already attached to a long length of thread.

His stitches are perfect. When he wraps bandages around his belly, they’re perfect as well. It doesn’t take long at all before he’s stuffing the kit back under his bed and wiping specks of blood from the floor. As he’s forcing himself to breathe through slipping on his shirt, he hears a pair of footsteps approach outside his door.

Ignoring how badly his stomach aches, he runs to the door, unlocks it, then jumps into his bed. The door opens when he settles with the comforter over his head, his back towards the door and his face turned at the wall.

He recognizes Grayson’s breathing. Damian bites his lip raw until he hears a sigh and the door closes once again.

Damian then immediately goes boneless under his bed covers. With a single hand placed against his side, Damian closes his eyes, and meditates until he forces his aching body to fall asleep.

-o-o-o-o-

Ignoring the stab wound in his side for the entirety of the next day is a difficult feat to do. Luckily, Damian manages. It’s a weekend day, and Grayson has unavoidable meetings with Lucius Fox and the rest of the Wayne Enterprises board. So really, as long as Damian stays out of the way of the butler and doesn’t make any sudden movements, Damian will be fine. He’s even managed to sneak into the medicine cabinet and take some painkillers without anyone catching him.

Really, the closest he got to anyone finding out was just in the morning when Grayson wrapped him in a goodbye hug. Damian barely contained his flinch but redirected it into simply struggling out of the embrace. Grayson gave him a concerned look, but didn’t ask, perhaps just chalking it up Damian simply not wanting to be touched today.

Not that Damian ever wants to be touched... especially if that touching is as useless as a hug.

By the time the sun is beginning to set and Grayson returns home haggard and wearing deep, black bags under his eyes, Damian has almost hyped himself up enough to not dread patrol.

It takes all of his strength to hide his relief when Grayson mentions being too tired to patrol tonight. Damian pretends to argue, and then retires to bed.

He sags against his bedroom door when it clicks behind him. His stomach still hurts badly, but at least he will not be forced to jump around and pretend everything is normal tonight, so he won't reopen his stitches. Besides… he hasn’t had time to clean and fix his tunic yet. He takes a few deep breaths, then wobbles over to his bed to once again pull out the first aid kit. He brings it to the bathroom his bedroom is connected to and then stands in the mirror as he slowly works his shirt up and off his sore body. His bandages... do not look good. There’s a weird stain where his wound is.

Apprehension settles in his gut as he slowly begins to unwind the bandages.

Soon enough, he’s staring in the mirror at his wound. The stitches look irritated, and his skin looks red. Near the sewed up seam of his wound, there’s little beads of almost transparent yellow liquid.

Infection. How... how has that happened? He’s been careful today...

He looks at the festering stab wound and bites his lip, trying to remember what to do if you ever get an infected wound such as this.

It would be helpful if he could sneak down to the cave and grab some of that ointment the butler likes to use... except Grayson has an alarm on the grandfather clock, and the second Damian goes down there without permission Grayson will know.

He can’t let Grayson know... Damian isn’t weak. He can’t let Grayson see his foolish mistake of an injury.

He turns on the tap and wets his fingers, he then runs the water over the wound until he’s about to blink out tears from the pain. He pats the wound dry with a clean towel, then takes a deep breath and wraps his wound once again before he slips the shirt back over his head with close to laborious effort. Once he exits the bathroom and he’s close to crawling into bed, there's a soft knocking on his bedroom door. He sighs, wipes his cheeks to make sure no tears have fallen, then straightens his posture.

He opens the door to find Grayson standing sheepishly on the other side.

“What is it?” Damian inquires with disinterest. Perhaps if he acts not in the mood for conversation, Grayson will leave sooner.

Grayson smiles, and Damian glares. “Hey, kiddo,” Grayson greets, his voice deeper than what it normally is. He’s exhausted, Damian can tell. Not that Damian cares... “Alfred was just telling me that he was cleaning the uniforms, and your tunic’s missing. Any idea where it could have gone?”

Damian makes sure to keep his face straight. “Perhaps the servant just misplaced it.”

Grayson’s eyebrows lower slightly. “Dames...”

“I’m tired, Grayson. I do not know where the butler has misplaced my tunic, but I expect it to be found soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to bed.”

Grayson opens his mouth to perhaps argue, but Damian doesn’t allow him to. He shuts the door, locks it, takes a deep breath and then stumbles like a dead man to his bed. He can almost imagine Grayson standing outside his door, a worried frown on his young face, fist lifted to knock on the barrier separating them.

However, he can also imagine Grayson sighing and shaking his head; lowering his fist and walking away.

Damian doesn’t get much sleep that night. In fact, by the time he finally falls into something that can be mistaken as sleep, the last set of numbers he remembers being illuminated on his phone’s screen is 03:46. When he wakes up, it reads 05:23, and Damian feels like he’s tussled with the embodiment of death itself while he was in the laughable excuse of slumber.

His body is hot. Too hot. His brain is woozy and when he just barely manages to stumble to the bathroom, he finds his wound looking more awful than ever. He frowns, tries to wipe more water on it, but stops when the pain becomes too great. He just barely manages to rewrap the wound and crawl back into his bed.

It’s Sunday. Perhaps Grayson and the butler will leave him alone today and not notice.

A few hours pass, and his door ultimately has a fist politely knocking for entrance. Damain thinks that if he ignores it and pretends to be asleep, the intruder will just go away. Unfortunately, his hopes are squandered when the door opens anyway, and Grayson’s soft voice calls his name.

“Damian? You up?”

Damian bites his lip, glad that he’s at least facing the wall again.

He listens to the footsteps that trek across his floor, and he resists a flinch when a hand falls on his shoulder.

“Dami, hey,” Grayson coos, like a worried hen. Damian scowls then opens his eyes before Grayson can begin shaking him.

“What is it?” He demands, turning to glare at Grayson.

Grayson’s eyes widen, and Damian realizes his mistake too late.

“Woah, kid,” Grayson breathes, and Damian can’t help but flinch when Grayson wraps his hand around Damian’s forehead.

There’s a scowl on Grayson’s face when he feels how warm his temperature must be. So, instead of dealing with Grayson’s worry, he smacks his hand away and shifts so his back is towards him. His entire stomach protests at the movement, but he has hope that he can get out of this without Grayson realizing anything.

“Tt, I’m fine.”

“Oh no you’re not,” Grayson argues, and Damian immediately knows his hopes and plans are out the window. “You obviously have a fever... Are you feeling sick? Throw up? Diarrhea?”

Damian frowns. Then sighs. He might as well just rip the metaphorical bandaid off. “My tunic is under the bed,” he mumbles.

He listens as Grayson stills, then bends down to search under the bed. By the time Grayson comes back up, Damian is biting his lip so hard he’s afraid he might chew through the flesh.

He can tell the exact moment Grayson finds the bloody hole in his uniform. He gasps harshly and... fearfully. Next thing Damian knows, he’s weakly struggling as Grayson rips off the comforter and tugs Damian up so he’s sitting. Fingers lift up his shirt and ghost over the bandages.

“‘m sorry,” Damian mumbles as Grayson looks up at him with an intense worry in his eyes. It’s so odd that that look is directed at Damian. No one has ever looked at him like that before. No one ever cares about Damian that much. He swallows, feeling guilty and scared. “I think it’s infected... please don’t send me away...”

And that worry turns into shock. “Send you away? Why would you think I’d send you away?”

Damian goes to bite his lip again, but a hand curls gently under his chin and coaxes Damian to look Grayson in the eyes.

Damian can feel those traitorous tears forming again. He takes a deep breath. “Because I’m weak. I got hit... Robin shouldn’t be weak... you shouldn’t have to worry about me getting hurt-“

And then the world blurs as Grayson tugs Damian forward into a tight embrace. It hurts Damian’s stomach. Badly. But he wraps his arms around Grayson before he can even think about how pathetic that is. Grayson’s arms are just so warm, and strong, and safe, that he can’t help it. He can’t help but feel at home in them.

Damian never quite feels at home anywhere else.

“You don’t have to be strong, Dami,” Grayson whispers. “You can tell me when you’re hurt or scared or just feeling a little unwell. I will never send you away. Never.”

Damian chews the inside of his cheek before he nods his head. He believes Grayson. Grayson has never lied to him before. “Are you mad?”

“Just worried,” Grayson assures, “which is why I’m taking you to Leslie, and you’re gonna promise to never hide an injury from me again.”

“... okay.”

“Good.” Grayson tightens his embrace and Damian lets out a shaky sigh. A single tear leaves his eye, but he wipes it away in Grayson’s shirt.

Next thing Damian knows, he’s leaving Leslie Thompkins’ medical clinic already feeling a little better. Grayson has a paper in his hands for a prescription of antibiotics, and a plan to head to the nearest Walgreens and then the nearest restaurant that makes acceptable ice cream shakes.

By the time they head back to the manor, Damian is practically asleep on his feet. But Grayson doesn’t let him retreat to his bed just yet. Instead, he scoops Damian up into his arms and carries him to the living room where he turns on the TV and inserts a colorful looking disk that must have some sort of sort of childish Disney or Pixar film loaded onto it.

Once Grayson grabs a blanket and collapses into the sofa, Damian knows he will be helpless but to stay here in Grayson’s arms to suffer a movie beneath his level.

“This... is the story of how I died...” the movie begins, the animated screen zooming in slowly on a tree with a wanted poster on it.

Damian sighs, then allows himself to curl into Grayson’s side. The movie begins, and admittedly it isn’t awful even if the singing is cheesy. Grayson’s arms squeeze him gently in a one armed hug, and Damian surrenders himself to a night of cuddles and Disney’s Tangled.

He doesn’t know why he was worried.

He falls asleep in Grayson’s arms, feeling safer and more wanted than ever

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years ago

Text

falling through

prompt: abandoned

whumpee: kurt wallander

fandom: young wallander

hi! a brief bit of bg for this fic - it’s set after the show, in a timeline where kurt and reza are now partners in major crimes and rask is their boss. idk if this would fit with any kind of canon but also idc. my rules :) anyway i hope u like this!!!

It’s not their best idea by any means, but sometimes, to break open a case, you have to take a risk. You have to do something questionable and a little stupid, and you have to do it without the permission or even the knowledge of your boss. This usually works in the movies, at any rate.

This isn’t a movie, Kurt thinks, as Reza parks the car in front of a long-abandoned, derelict, half-rotted house that Rask definitely hadn’t given them the go-ahead to investigate. This is just a bad idea. But they’re already here, and Reza’s already out of the car, and there is the possibility that they’re going to find something here, at the childhood home of their currently-on-the-run murderer, so he sighs and exits the car, jogging after Reza to catch up.

What’s left of the front door swings open the second Reza touches it, and he and Kurt share a look before stepping over the threshold. Inside, the smell of decay is overwhelming. There are moth-eaten skeletons of furniture and the occasional spray-painted symbol on the peeling, stained wallpaper and the occasional squeaking of a rat. “Lovely place,” Reza mutters, and Kurt laughs.

Towards the back of the house is a staircase, which is missing approximately half of its steps. It looks less than safe, but upstairs is where the bedrooms (and the most likely sources of evidence) are, so they ascend, one at a time, in slow, halting steps.

They make it upstairs without incident and end up in a hallway that extends in two directions. Silently, they agree to each take one. Reza goes straight ahead, and Kurt goes to the right.

He pulls his flashlight out as he walks along, flicking it on and passing it in sweeping arcs over his surroundings. A hole in the wall here, a dead bug or three there, a bathroom with broken porcelain and a window missing its pane, and a bedroom that clearly had once belonged to a young girl and not their murderer. He’s about to turn around and see if Reza’s had any better luck when he hears a clatter from the end of the hallway.

He takes a step forward in the direction of the clatter, and there’s a rather ominous creaking sound beneath his feet. He looks down just in time to watch the floor give out from under him, and then all of a sudden he’s lying on his back on the first floor, the breath knocked right out of him, dazed and stunned and surrounded by rubble.

For a few seconds he simply lies there with absolutely no idea what’s just happened, and then he hears a voice shout his name from somewhere above him. He opens eyes that he hadn’t realized were closed and finds himself staring upwards at a giant hole in the ceiling, and then he remembers.

He’s just fallen through the floor. Or the ceiling, depending on how you look at it. The voice calls again, echoing around inside his head, and he recognizes it as Reza. He hears footsteps above him and tries to shout a warning that comes out as little more than a whisper. Fortunately, the footsteps stop moving, and he hears them retreat, and then come thumping down the stairs, and he listens to them approach, and then Reza is standing over him and asking him something that he can’t understand.

Now that his body has gotten over its initial shock, it hurts. What feels like every single part of his body below his neck is aching and sore. His head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. He can feel stinging little cuts and scrapes all over his exposed skin and his right ankle throbs in time with his heartbeat and even his lungs ache from having had the air knocked out of them on impact.

“Kurt!” Reza’s voice sounds different this time, serious and worried, and Kurt finally manages to think a coherent thought. That doesn’t sound good. He forces himself to speak.

“Hi,” is the only thing he can think of to say, but it must be good enough for Reza, who at some point has dropped to his knees beside Kurt’s body. He smiles down at Kurt, and Kurt tries to smile back but feels himself failing. It hurts…

“I know,” Reza says, placing a very gentle hand on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt blinks at him in surprise, not having realized that he’d spoken aloud. He lets his eyes drift closed for a second to try and better take stock of his body and his injuries, but Reza shakes his shoulder and tells him to stay awake.

“‘M not sleeping,” Kurt manages to say. “Tryin’ to see what hurts.”

“Okay,” Reza replies, “but you try and go drifting off and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Got it,” Kurt whispers back, and then shuts his eyes again and focuses, starting from the top. His head hurts, but not badly enough to be worrying. There’s a rather large cut above his right eyebrow that’s slowly dripping hot, sticky blood down his face, and a few smaller scrapes across the rest of his face and down his neck. His chest and back still ache from the force of impact, but if he concentrates he can move his fingers and toes, so his spine is unharmed. His right sleeve is torn up, and he can feel little scratches all up and down the arm. The same is true for the right leg of his pants. He supposes that’s the part of him that went through the floor first. His right ankle is still aching, and he recognizes the pain as a sprain - irritating and painful, but ultimately harmless. He’s essentially fine. He just aches.

That survey complete, Kurt opens his eyes again and finds Reza’s face. “‘M fine,” he reports, though he doubts Reza will be very convinced.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Banged up, is all. Nothing serious.”

“Good,” Reza says. “Because there’s no service out here.”

“Oh,” Kurt replies, suddenly very glad indeed that none of his injuries are critical, ambulance-worthy ones.

“Yeah,” Reza says. “That means we’ve gotta get you out of here on our own. You think you can walk?”

“Dunno.” He’s willing to try, though. Kurt presses his palms down firmly into the pile of rubble, which shifts and makes unpleasant noises around him. He pushes his feet into it at the same time, and manages to scramble up onto his feet after several seconds of intense pain. He wavers and very nearly falls right back down, but Reza grabs his shoulders and holds him up. Everything is spinning and his legs are shaking and his right ankle isn’t at all enjoying having weight put on it. Kurt bites back a cry of pain and tries to take a step, because for this to stop, he has to get out of here, but his legs won’t let him move and he feels his eyes well up with frustrated, pained tears, and he tries again to make his legs move but it hurts too much and he can’t, and then…

Then he’s moving? But he’s not walking. His vision is still a bit fuzzy and his body is aching too much to feel anything touching it, and it takes him several seconds to realize that he’s being carried, slightly awkwardly but very gently. He doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed about this situation, as he normally would be - honestly, he’s just grateful that he doesn’t have to move.

He watches as his surroundings (which have become clear again, now that he’s not trying to stand up on legs that really don’t want him to be doing that) change, from the interior of the abandoned house to the outside, and then to the backseat of the car. Reza sets him down on the edge of the seat, positioned so that he’s facing out the door.

“There’s a first aid kit in here somewhere, hold on,” Reza says, and walks around to the back of the car. It’s not really like Kurt has any choice in this matter, so he stays put.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, when Reza reappears with a large plastic box in his hands.

“You’re pretty cut up,” Reza replies, setting the box down on the ground and popping it open. He rifles through it and grabs several different things before standing back up and facing Kurt, sliding medical gloves onto his hands. “I don’t want anything getting infected, and I’m sure you would appreciate not having blood all over your face.”

Kurt raises a shaking hand to touch the side of his face. His fingers come away wet and shiny with blood, and he remembers the cut on his forehead. “That would be good,” he agrees, and then sits silently and waits for Reza to get to work.

Reza begins with an item not from the first aid kit at all - a warm, unopened bottle of water from the front seat of the car. He pours the water onto a cotton ball and begins carefully cleaning Kurt’s face. Kurt flinches backwards out of instinct when the water first hits his face, but it doesn’t actually hurt, and after a while it actually feels kind of nice. Reza continues the process on Kurt’s neck, then sets down his cotton ball and picks up a pair of scissors. Kurt eyes them warily, trying to think of what exactly they might be for.

“Sorry about this,” Reza says, and Kurt doesn’t have time to panic about what that might mean before Reza is cutting away the right sleeve of his shirt near the shoulder, and the right leg of his pants slightly above the knee.

“So I can see what I’m working with without your torn-up clothes in the way,” Reza explains, after he’s finished mutilating Kurt’s clothes. Kurt just nods, glad that he hadn’t been particularly attached to this outfit.

With his work area now exposed, Reza grabs and wets another cotton ball, then repeats the cut-cleaning process on Kurt’s right arm and leg, as well as his left hand. “Can you feel anything anywhere else?” he asks, and Kurt concentrates for a second, then slowly shakes his head.

“This next part might hurt a little. Sorry in advance,” Reza says, and Kurt watches as he grabs a pair of tweezers and a small bottle of something, which Kurt identifies by the smell as rubbing alcohol once Reza opens the bottle and begins pouring it onto the tweezers.

“I can only see a couple cuts with anything in them,” Reza says, which Kurt supposes is something of a reassuring statement. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

True to his word, the process is quick, but stinging and painful. Kurt knows it’s hardly that bad in the grand scheme of things, but it still hurts, and for a few seconds afterwards he sits there and takes deep breaths and blinks his eyes rapidly and mentally yells at himself to get it together.

“You ready to keep going?” Reza asks after a moment, and Kurt nods. “This part also might be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t sting or hurt that bad,” he continues.

“What is it?” Kurt thinks to ask, staring warily into the contents of the box. Reza bends down and grabs a small tube, turning the label so Kurt can see it.

“Nothing bad, just an antibiotic,” Reza assures him, and Kurt gives another nod. Reza dabs the ointment on with a gloved finger, and it does feel extremely uncomfortable on the big cut on Kurt’s forehead, but on the majority of the rest he hardly feels a thing. When Reza’s finished, he sticks a bandage to the large cut and to a few of the bigger ones on the rest of Kurt’s body, leaving the rest alone.

“Done,” he announces, finally, and returns to the box to put away his items. Kurt watches curiously as Reza continues rummaging around in the box after everything is already put away, until eventually he stands back up triumphantly and holds up a small packet of painkillers. “Thought I lost these,” he says. “You want them?”

Kurt nods, and Reza tears open the packet, shaking two small, round pills into Kurt’s left palm, which is the less cut-up of the two. He passes over the now half-empty bottle of water, and Kurt swallows the pills and then drinks the remaining water.

“How’re you feeling?” Reza asks, when he’s finished. Kurt attempts a shrug and winces in pain.

“Okay,” he says, which is not really true. He does feel better than he had when he was lying on the floor, and certainly much better than he had when he was trying to stand.

“Sure you’re okay,” Reza says. “Not like you just fell through a floor or anything.”

“Better, then,” Kurt amends, and Reza nods. “Good. Then let’s go.”

That sounds very agreeable to Kurt, so he turns - very slowly and carefully - until his body is all the way in the car. He tries to buckle his seatbelt but gives up very quickly, and Reza does it for him, then shuts his door and opens the driver’s door. He starts the engine, and Kurt watches out the window as the old, abandoned house disappears. As they rejoin the bustling roads of Malmö, a very worrying thought crosses Kurt’s mind for the first time.

“How are we gonna explain this to Rask?”

thanks for reading!!!! i rlly had a fun time writing this and i hope u liked reading it!

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump4 #abandoned #young wallander #kurt wallander #my writing #i say things #fall #cut #field medicine #cared for

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fritae · 4 years ago

Text

The Missing Piece (Chapter 12)

Closer.

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x f. oc, lov

status: ongoing

read on ao3 here.

a/n: i really like this chapter heh, hope u enjoy! 😚

The staircase leads all the way to basement. I wondered why they would hide such steep, hidden steps in Dabi's office when they could create (much) shorter, more accessible ones from the first floor.

But I'm guessing that's the point.

This isn't supposed to be easy to reach. And Dabi's office is the one place no one would dare enter.

Aside from us, of course.

The basement is completely dark, forcing me to draw myself even closer to Dabi. I enjoy the weight of his hand in mine. He has a firm, tight grip. But just as the thought warms my cheeks, I shake it out of my head.

Within seconds, Dabi turns on the lights.

My eyes widen, taking in the sight before me.

Blood.

A lot of it.

Though it looks dried, like it's been there for ages.

I spot a wall of different sized knives on one hand. A gun display on the other. A shelf of jars, filled with a murky looking liquid and...I don't even want to know what that is inside.

Dabi watches me.

There's a simple, plastic white table in the center of the floor with a large white board behind it.

The place is much messier and less...classy, than the rest of the Blaze.

But I have the feeling it's because it's not meant for outside eyes.

"You okay?" Dabi asks.

I nod, squeezing his hand to comfort myself.

Before the others reach the bottom, he whispers in my ear, "Whenever you want to leave, let me know. You don't have to be here."

"Okay."

"And," He takes another glance at the stairs as the others begin to appear. "Again, Rina. This place does not exist. Anything we say here does not leave this room. Got it?"

I glance warily at the knives.

"Why are you so worried?" I try to smile so he doesn't pick up on my nervousness. "I don't have anyone outside of you guys anyway. Who would I talk to?"

My comment seems to confuse him. "What about-"

"Welcome to the League!!" Toga jumps off the last few steps and swings into full view.

I shoot Dabi a look. "The League?"

"The League of Villains, of course!" Atsuhiro follows Toga, a dramatic grin on his lips. "Only the baddest group of bad boys in town."

"And girls!" Toga calls out.

"League of Villains?" I cackle. "Who came up with that?"

Tenko scowls.

Oop.

Dabi lets go of my hand and motions for me to take a seat on one of the plastic chairs.

I pick a red chair near the board.

"So what is that you guys really do?"

"I told you," Dabi says. "Special services to people willing to pay up."

Given where we are, that suddenly feels a lot more sinister than it did when he first told me.

I look back at the knives and jars in the background.

"So like, a gang? Where you steal things and hurt people if someone pays you enough? Like the movies?"

"Guess you could put it that way."

"And there's actually people that pay for this stuff?"

Dabi shrugs. "It's a niche market."

Woah.

There's a lot more questions in my head, but now is not the time. Maybe later.

As Dabi moves to take a seat, his abdomen brushes against the edge of the table and he hisses in pain.

It releases blood again.

"Fuck!" He grips the skin.

I move closer to him, gripping his hands again. "It still hurts?" I ask worriedly. "Is there anything we can do?" I look around at the others quickly.

"Yes!" Toga says, a little too eagerly.

"What is it?"

She hops over to knives behind us, and takes a moment deciding which one she wants.

She brandishes a short but sharp blade and lets out an excited squeal, as though she enjoyed this.

"Fire please!" She calls out.

What's she doing?

Dabi groans and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. He tosses it toward her, and she carefully holds it under the edge of the blade, running it up and down for several minutes until it turns red.

She's going to seal the wound so it doesn't get infected.

"Lie down, boss," She says in a sing-song voice.

I clear the few papers were scattered on the table and move so Dabi could spread himself over it.

He lifts the edge of his shirt to his midriff, and my breath catches in my throat when I see his abdomen.

The skin is covered in large swaths of reddish purple.

Like parts of it were burnt off...

I gasp.

"These are old," Dabi looks at me. He's watching me carefully, wanting to see just how I'd react. "Still want to be here?"

I swallow my anxiety as I stare at Dabi's mismatched skin. I won't give him the chance to say 'I told you so.'

This must be why he wouldn't let me dress the wound.

He didn't want me to see this.

No wonder the stab didn't phase him.

What else has his body been through...

"Here I come!" Toga grins.

She was all too eager to take the scorching knife and press it to his stomach.

Dabi clenches his teeth immediately, leaving me to hurriedly stand next to him. I squeeze his hand to soothe him, but he grips mine back so hard I think he might break it.

I brush his hair out of eyes and press my hand to his forehead to calm him.

"It's okay," I tell him softly. "It's over."

The others stare at Dabi's wound uncomfortably, like they've been under Toga's knife before.

I wonder if they have similar wounds.

Dabi releases his harsh grip on my hand and begins to breathe slower.

One things strikes me though.

Despite all the pain he's undoubtedly feeling right now, not a single tear drops from his eyes.

I think it might just be him trying not to appear weak in front of us.

But as I look into his eyes, I'm surprised to find them completely dry.

"Are you superhuman or something?" I joke with him.

He looks at me quizzically.

"All of that and you didn't cry?"

Dabi closes his eyes. "I don't cry." He grits his teeth.

I roll my eyes.

Whatever you say.

The others slowly help him sit up straight. I take the first aid kit from Atsuhiro, picking out the cotton, gauze and antibacterial wipes.

Dabi is less reluctant when I try to wrap the area this time.

"You can hold onto me if you want," I tease as I wrap the gauze around his body.

A small smirk appears on his lips. His arm suddenly snakes around my waist, pulling me close to him.

I blush and the gauze falls out of my hands.

Dabi tilts his head. "What's wrong? Thought you wanted me to hold onto you?"

The guys snicker behind us.

I push him away from me, and he laughs as I take another piece of gauze and try again.

"You guys can talk now," I tell them focused on what I'm doing. "What exactly happened today?

Did Mr. Lane find out about the League? Is that what made you a target?"

Dabi is silent.

His silence puzzles me. I look to the others to see if they knew anything.

"Dabi tried blowing up his car!" Toga volunteers.

I frown.

Could this be just because of how Mr. Lane treated me?

No. There's no reason for it to mean that much to Dabi.

Enough to get angry, sure.

To harm Mr. Lane?

Doubtful.

"Why would you blow up his car?" I ask.

Tenko pulls up a chair. "We did some research on him. He's working with some really shady people. And Dabi told us about the whole Todoroki affair."

I shoot Dabi a look.

"They're trying to trick people into thinking they're heroes. That they should be put on a pedestal and admired. There's people out there telling their kids to be like them. Meanwhile they're going around-"

"Enough," Dabi interrupts Tenko. "Point is, they're fakes. They built up their media empires off that fake image. And we're going to expose them."

"But you guys are also doing...you know," I don't know how to say it in a way that isn't offensive. "I mean, you tried blowing up his car. And I'm guessing you probably have done more...if I'm not reaching."

Their eyes harden.

"We never pretended to be good."

I know I should stay silent, but I keep going.

"Right, but you have a double image too. There's the Blaze, and then there's the League."

They shake their heads.

"The Blaze is to funnel money into the League. Yeah, sure it's a front, but those who need our services know where to find us. We can't have masses of people finding out about the other shit we do, can we?"

"But how did this all start? What are you trying to achieve?"

"We just hate hypocrites. We'll help a bad guy to bring down a worse guy. Those that act like angels in public are our favorite targets. I don't care if we have to steal, blackmail, or kill them," Dabi's eyes shine with evil. "Whatever it takes to beat their egos down. Reveal the private faces they hide. Until they're forced to show their bloody hands before the world. Someone like Enji is using Lane for media coverage. Lane is depending on him for protection and cash. We can take them both down."

"What if you get caught?"

He dismisses the question, like it's not even worth his time. "By who?" He scoffs. "Lane? As soon as we take down Enji, Lane's done for. Since he's your old boss, we can give you leeway with how badly you want us to go after him." Dabi says this like that's what I'm genuinely concerned about right now. "Lane's a scared little prick anyway, as soon as he saw me he bounced out of the car and screamed for protection." He laughs like he can picture Mr. Lane's pathetic position as we speak. "But he'll fall. Just like the rest of them."

"I meant the police, Dabi."

The question puzzles him as if he's never considered it before. But the look in his eyes tells me they're even less of a concern than Mr. Lane.

"Don't worry about that," He says. "That's the least of our problems, to be honest."

I nod.

I let them speak uninterrupted for the rest of the night. They have business to take care of, and if I keep asking questions like this, they'll never get to finish. It's enough that they waited all day for me to leave so they could start. Can't hold them up at night as well.

The Todoroki name was brought up several times, among others. It seems strange now, considering Dabi knows it was Mr. Lane's relations with Enji that led to me leaving the company the way I did. Turns out he knows a lot more about Enji than I do.

I try to keep track of the other names as well, but there's so many and I'm so tired, I can barely keep up.

"Here's where Rina comes in," Dabi continues.

My eyes widen at the mention of my name.

"Enji's using Lane for his image. Rina, you said they were working on a movie or something?"

"A documentary, yes."

"We need to make sure that shit doesn't air."

I bite my lip, trying to remember as much information as I could about the documentary. It was supposed to air already. I remember Mr. Lane saying it would be within the month.

But it hasn't yet.

Which means I need to find out more from Al.

"My roommate still works at NNTV. She's the floor manager so she might have some idea of what's going on. I can ask her."

"You sure you can trust her?" Dabi asks with a frown.

"Well, I'm not gonna tell her any details, she's the one that's gonna need to have trust in me, no?"

Atsuhiro cracks his knuckles and rubs his neck. "I don't know, I don't like the sound of that. We have our own ways of finding stuff out so-"

"It won't hurt to try," I insist, looking at Dabi since he's the one that has final say on these matters. "Having 2 avenues of information is better than 1."

Truth be told, I just want to feel useful. I want to feel like I have a role to play, not just that I'm here to "sit and watch".

I want them to feel good about me being here, not apprehensive about whether this was a good decision.

After some deliberation, Dabi sighs. He looks to the others for input. "Might as well?"

"I mean she's here," Tenko says monotonously. "Might as well use her."

Dabi nods and then turns to me. "Just don't be stupid with it. Lead her into the conversation, don't bring it up out of nowhere. She'll be curious about why you're bringing it up. Don't say anything that'll make her ask questions. The more questions she asks you, the more suspicious she'll be."

"Relax guys, I got this." I smile. "Besides, she's a chatterbox. She'll open up at the slightest nudge and go on forever. She's the one that told me about all the.." I grimace. "..issues with the Todoroki company."

Plus, she's my friend! Of course, I can trust her. We've been roommates for years. If anyone could tell me about Mr. Lane's current plans for the documentary, it'd be her.

"So it's settled!" Toga claps. She takes a marker and goes up to the white board, drawing a flow chart with all that's been discussed today. She adds my part last, circling my name and underlining it several times for emphasis, over a big red INTEL SOURCING.

The sight of that makes me smile, like I have a role to play in all of this. I look around at the others but they're all preoccupied with moving things around and discussing their own parts.

The lack of enthusiasm isn't surprising, I mean this is normal for them.

But all I can think of is how exciting it'll be if I have something to contribute the next time we meet. If they'll call me down, and look at me expectantly. I imagine the looks on their faces with glee and the thought almost makes me giddy.

"Okay, are we done here?" Dabi asks.

A bunch of 'yes'es and 'yup's fill the basement.

"Alright then," Dabi grabs a leather jacket from on the wall and checks to make sure his keys are inside. Then he walks my way and grabs my arm.

"Time for you to go home," He says, moving me in front of him.

"But-"

"Now," His eyes narrow. He moves his head in a silent nudge, telling me to turn around and make my way upstairs.

The others watch us curiously, and Toga lets out a snicker at my expense.

"I'm jealous!" She calls after us. "Wish I had someone to drive me home!"

Dabi groans, nudging me to keep moving.

"Bye guys," I wave back at them from halfway up the steps. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

They all wave warmly and I can't help thinking how grateful I am that they trusted me with this.

It feels so weird emerging out of Dabi's office like this, from a secret path that leads deep under the building. But Dabi simply presses another tile in the walls, and the entrance reseals itself, as though it never existed.

We make our way to his car, and I hurry to catch up to him. The height difference certainly doesn't help.

He unlocks the car and slides into the driver's seat. I follow into the passenger's seat and shift awkwardly in my place.

"Where do you live?" He asks as he readjusts his rearview mirror. No sooner had I told him the address, than he revved the engine and sped away from the Blaze.

The ride is quiet for a while. Regrettably so. Dabi hands me a box of disinfectants to wipe the blood off my hands. I wonder how many times he's had to do the same thing before coming into the office.

I fiddle with the hems of my shirts as I try to think of something to talk about. Dabi doesn't seem to be in as big of a rush to speak, his eyes darting from the rearview to the side mirrors periodically as we cruise down the mostly empty highway.

"Dabi?"

"Hm."

"When they said you were gone today, were you really in the basement the whole time?"

Dabi takes a moment to answer. "After I got back, yeah. Couldn't exactly walk through the front doors looking the way I did." He glances at me before switching lanes.

"Were you avoiding me?"

"Partly."

I nod. "Now that I know about the League, do you think you'd avoid me in a case like this again?"

"A case like this won't happen again."

"Okay." I respond quietly. "Cause you know I get worried."

Dabi seems to be deep in thought.

"You worry a lot for someone who's only met me a month ago."

I smile. "Well, of course. We're friends aren't we?"

Dabi spares me a look before switching lanes again. "Right." But he doesn't look like he fully believes me.

"You think you'll be able to handle your friend?" He changes the subject.

"Who, Aliyah? Of course! I told you, we're really good friends and she's the kind of person that loves gossiping anyway. It'll be a piece of cake."

He grunts. "Okay. Because to be honest, that's part of why I wanted you at the Blaze."

I don't know why hearing that makes me feel slightly sad, but it does. "The documentary?"

"Yeah. I mean you work in the media industry. You'd know about that stuff. People like Enji have the industry wrapped around their palms. When you told me he was cozying up to NNTV, I figured you'd be the person to handle all of that for me."

I nod. "So why haven't you asked me before today?" Come to think of it, he even sounded reluctant about agreeing.

"I don't know," He sighs. "Still not sure I want you mixed up with all of this."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not even a member, remember? I'm just getting information for you," I tease. "What's so dangerous about that?"

"That's what worries me," Dabi glances at me, his brows pulled together. "That's all you see it as."

"What am I supposed to see it as?"

"What it is," Dabi gets increasingly agitated, but he tries to keep himself calm. "I'm not sure you're taking this seriously enough, Rina. The closer you get to us, the more at risk you are. The more people that know you work for me, especially what kind of work," He looks dead serious. "The more danger you'll be in."

I roll my eyes. "But no one knows anything about you, Dabi. I've been here for a month and I'm only just finding out about all of this. And I'm sure there's much more I don't know. How would people outside of the League even find out?"

"Same way we find out shit about them. Lane's using his Todoroki connections to supply him with information and protection. They're good at what they do."

My mouth drops. "You mean the Todorokis know about you?"

"Well," Dabi's jaw hardens. "They think they do."

I wait for him to say more, but he leaves it at that. We ride the rest of the distance in silence.

Once we pull up in front of my apartment complex, I try to put a smile on my face.

"Thanks Dabi." I tell him as I unlock the door.

He nods without looking at me. "See you tomorrow."

Those words trigger me immediately and I let go of the handle.

"Don't say that."

Dabi looks confused.

"You said that yesterday and had no intention of seeing me." I cross my arms. "You broke your promise."

"Don't be dramatic, no one says that shit as a promise."

"See you tomorrow means I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him seriously. "Otherwise, just say goodbye or something else."

He leans his head forward against the steering wheel and sighs. "It's just a stupid phrase, you're overthinking it."

I frown.

"See you tomorrow," He gives up. But still, I don't leave.

"I mean it!" He says. "I. Will. See. You. Tomorrow. Good enough?"

I grin. "Mhm, thank you!" I lean over to give him a quick hug before I leave, and he immediately recoils, like my body was made of ice.

"Handsy, aren't you," He mutters, craning his neck to look at me, without getting too close.

I pull away.

"Always have to ruin the moment, don't you," I counter, slightly disappointed. I turn to open the door, and suddenly feel him pull me back in.

"How do you do that?" His voices comes out low and raspy.

I look into his eyes. "Do what?"

There's that frustration in his eyes again.

"Fucking making me feel bad about shit I'd never fucking feel bad about." He growls.

The way he says it makes me blush.

"Cut that shit out."

"Yes sir," I mumble.

He leans his head back.

Then, he hesitantly opens his arms.

I shake my head, pulling my purse over my shoulder again. "Not gonna force you to do something you don't want to do."

I open the door this time, and just as I'm about to step out of his car, he pulls my arm again - harder this time, and I fall back into the bend of his arm.

My heart is pounding faster. I shake my hair from my face to get a better look at Dabi in the dark.

"Why are you so much fucking work," He mutters, his face inches away from mine. I swallow.

He leans forward to hug me closer to his chest. The leather jacket feels surprisingly smooth against my cheek, and my hand finds the back of his seat to balance myself, careful of coming near his wound. He holds me to him for a few long breaths and I smile against his chest, knowing he can't see me right now.

When we pull away, I look at his face once more. But Dabi avoids my gaze.

"You don't have to play along with me," I tell him, a teasing smile on my lips. "I'll only expect more from you next time."

"See you tomorrow," He mumbles, still without facing me. His foot is on the brakes but he's already pulling the gear shift into Drive.

And then, just before I leave for good and with no time to think this through -

I press my lips on his cheek.

Dabi's eyes widen immediately and he looks at me in alarm. "What-"

"Bye Dabi!" I wave with a laugh as I hurry out of his car. I run to the door of my building, grateful for the dark to hide my red cheeks.

Dabi remains in front of the building for a moment, his head still turned my way in shock.

I close the door behind me but hurry to the window, peeking the corner of my head out just in time to catch him shaking his head and rubbing a tired hand across his eyes.

There's no way to describe the relief and warmth in my chest, when he eventually pulls out of his spot.

But just before he can drive off, I swear I feel him smirk at the window.

As if he can hear the adrenaline thrumming in my veins.

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x oc #dabi fanfic #dabi angst #dabi fic #dabi fluff #dabi x female reader #touya fluff #bnha fic #mha #bnha #league of villains #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #touya x y/n #bnha touya #tw: mentions of blood

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the-dumbest-po3-au · 5 years ago

Text

part 4 - the dumbest po3 au

its been. nine. montsh im SO SORRY GUYS LMAO

for those of you who dont know what the dumbest po3 au is, click this link

for those of you who have not read the summaries for power of three, part 1 - part 2 - part 3

alright!!!!!!! dovewing time

the fourth apprentice

the book opens w/ ivykit and dovekit in the nursery. ivykit suggests going out to explore the territory and dovekit is like “wow. that sounds like a fantastic idea ivykit you are so smart"

whitewing says No Absolutely Not, and leaves at some point to go make dirt. they sneak out and not 5 minutes later they get lost. dovekit gets blames ivykit for suggesting it and they get into a fight. they both get really mad & dovekit runs off. because shes like a stupid 2 year old gets distracted, rams her head into a rock and passes out. rip dovekit. she wakes up and sees a fox kit coming towards her. she screams.

her head hurts and shes tired and now shes going to die. out of nowhere a huge cat beats up the fox and scares it away. dovekit passes out (again)

when she wakes up, she is next to a cat messing with a bunch of weird plants. the cat sees that she woke up and introduces himself as littlecloud. he asks what her name is. “dove… dove…?? i dont know” says dovekit.

he asks her how she got there, and if she has any family. she does not remember. so littlecloud tells her she’s gonna have to stay here for the time being. he asks her if anything hurts, and dovekit says she thinks may have hit her head.

he gives her some of the weird plants and she goes back to sleep. when she wakes up her head has stopped hurting and she feels a lot better. she gets up to go walk around and is immediately introduced to the tawnyspawn.

tigerpaw is stupid and friendly (and hellbent on being her future best friend). dawnpaw is obnoxious and a bit (read: extremely) condescending but interested. flamepaw is nice and also the only one with half a braincell.

they take her around and introduce her to the rest of the clan. she sees blackstar and is like. “im pretty sure thats my dad” tigerpaw gasps. flamepaw and dawnpaw are like. “What.” “he saved me from the fox im pretty sure thats my dad,” says dovekit

they go harass blackstar. dovekit follows him around like a puppy and the tawnspawn follow her. he has this train of literal 2 yr olds trailing after him and is wildly unhappy about this development. russetfur is also definitely siccing the kids on him to make him mad.

dawnpaw gives dovekit a passionate speech about the clans, but mostly how evil riverclan kicked completely innocent shadowclan out of their home, and how shadowclan has to set everything right and deliver justice to those cringe fail fishheads, or something.

a few days later the tawnyspawn are off doing their own thing and dovekit goes to see whats going on. dawnpaw tries to shut tigerpaw up but he spills the beans anyways. “we’re going to attack riverclan on a Secret Mission so that we can win back shadowclan’s honor and become WARRIORS so you cant tell anybody”

dawnpaw sighs. “dovekit this is for Big Kids Only, so you cant be here.” flamepaw is trying to talk tigerpaw out of doing this in the bg but tigerpaw is being stubborn. dovekit is sad about it but goes back to sulk in camp (and to harass her new dad).

a few hours later tawnypelt runs over to blackstar and is like. “blackstar my children are missing nobody knows where they went”

"oh!! they went to go attack riverclan to get back shadowclan’s territory!” informs dovekit helpfully.

“what.” says blackstar, tawnypelt, and russetfur in unison. the sky immediately opens up and starts Pouring. tawnypelt freaks out. dovekit is like “why cant we just follow the sound of their voices??” but everyone ignores her bc they think shes just being stupid.

“Fine!! ill just go find them on my OWN” says dovekit, following them by the sound of their voices (theyre proally arguing over something stupid).

now four of shadowclan’s children are missing. “you brought that kid here so you get to deal with her,” says russetfur. blackstar sighs dramatically and goes off to find his new child.

dovekit runs into an old man cat. “whatre you doin here??” says old man cat. “im looking for my friends!! whats your name :0? im dovekit!!” “my names purdy!”

blackstar shows up and is like. who tf are you. “this is my new friend purdy!!!” says dovekit. blackstar doesnt even know how to respond. “look we’re going to go back to the camp right now and we’re not taking this dude with us.”

dovekit is like “??? no??? we have to get my friends theyre right over there??” she says pointing in their direction w/ her tail. blackstar is ready to cry. so blackstar and purdy follow dovekit as she leads them closer to riverclan territory where they hear the tawnyspawn screeching like banshees.

they run over and find several cats w/ the tawnyspawn who are pinned down. “if you breathe in my direction ill kill all three of these children,” says a snotty dude.

“who tf are you” says blackstar

“im darktail you insolent snot,” says darktail.

one of his cats grabs dovekit and blackstar snaps. he lunges at darktail while purdy beats up the dude who snatched dovekit. the tawnyspawn take advantage of the moment, escape, and dogpile the other cats. its a disaster.

darktail swears revenge on blackstar till his dying day or something. nobodys really paying attention to him at this point. he runs off w/ his crew. “alright then” says blackstar. this has been a really weird and long day for everyone. blackstar wants to leave purdy but all the children immediately start crying. they bring purdy home.

“holy crap!!! purdy!!!!!” says tawnypelt. “why are you here??” but then she sees her children. she and rowanclaw give them a very stern lecture about Not Running Off Without Telling Anyone (in which tawnypelt is a massive hypocrite but to be fair god told her to)

in the meanwhile, blackstar asks dovekit how tf she knew they were there. “i could hear them, Obviously. ???? cant u not???” blackstar just looks at her. dovekit realizes that probably not everyone shares this ability. blackstar shoos her off and calls a meeting w/ the senior warriors.

dovekit goes off to bother purdy for stories and play w/ the tawnyspawn. nothing particularly interesting happens. blackstar and russetfur call her over later and start assessing her abilities. its only slightly a disaster because shes wildly distracted 80% of the time and her powers are unwieldy bc shes a kit.

cue training. there is a lot of trial, error, and tears (on both sides) but it works out in the end (mostly).

time skip. its been a few months. dovekit becomes dovepaw and blackstar mentors her b/c of her powers. at this point shes gotten control of how to pick out numbers, locations, troops, etc. basically she is a living radar.

blackstar calls another meeting w/ the senior warriors and afterwards calls a clan meeting. “alright losers we’re going to take back our territory and kick riverclan’s butt”

they go over the clan w/ all the cats and begin the trek home. another time skip because that takes a while and nothing particularly interesting happens.

when they get back, the clan stays outside the border while blackstar has dovepaw do a sweep of the territory. she finds a patrol led by a black cat named reedwhisker. blackstar picks a patrol out and they go to ambush the riverclan patrol.

the shadowclan patrol takes reedwhisker + the patrol hostage, but lets one go to tell mistystar. mistystar takes a patrol and comes over. “if you dont give us back our territory i will kill your son” says blackstar. mistystar is like “bro. i dont even want your stupid crusty territory anyways. screw you.”

she takes her son and the rest of the patrol and leaves. another win for shadowclan, obviously. maybe they have a party idk. end of book.

fading echoes

cinderheart has not been doing well. she’s been doing really badly, actually. her best friend died and she blames herself. she’s still grieving and continually lashing out at everyone around her. poppyfrost and honeyfern attempted to be there for her but after the continual rebuffs they decided to just give her space.

unfortunately cinderheart. doesnt have any other friends in thunderclan, so the only person she can talk to is lionblaze. unfortunately theres only so much he can do from windclan, so mostly shes been just been going into a downward spiral.

ivypaw hasnt been doing great either. she feels extremely guilty because she thinks its her fault that dovekit ran away, and when dovekit is never found, it gets 50x worse.

but she also doesnt want to say anything about her involvement in fear of getting punished. as time goes on, she starts getting babied by the clan (almost like leopardstar when she was a kid) because her sister disappeared and she took it really hard.

and like on one hand, she likes the attention, but on the other hand its too much a lot of the time. she starts adopting this “stop babying me!1!1!!!”/kinda edgy persona. the clan takes it like shes grieving, and she’ll grow out of it, so they dont say too much.

so the book opens w/ ivypaw and fernpaw’s apprentice ceremony. brief context about how fern was recently found by the thunderclan border w/o parents and taken into the clan. fernsong is apprenticed to brightheart. ivypool is apprenticed to cinderheart.

firestar probably thinks that they might be able to bond/break through to each other because they recently lost a sister/adjacent sister. neither of them are particularly enthusiastic about it.

cinderheart isnt particularly invested in ivypaw’s training. ivypaw can tell and gets rightfully frustrated, bc brightheart and fernpaw are getting along great and making lots of progress, while ivypaw is falling behind becuase cinderheart is being a terrible mentor.

ivypaw starts fighting back (disobeying, talking back, etc.), partially because this is the only time she gets paid attention, and partially because shes just mad, which makes cinderheart mad, which then makes ivypaw fight back more. this causes cinderheart to become more and more distant. in short: ivypaw’s apprenticeship is a disaster.

at some point during training, theyre practicing climbing trees and cinderheart tells ivypaw to do something. to spite her, ivypaw does the opposite and ends up falling, dislocating her leg. cinderheart panics and cinderpelt emerges.

cinderpelt basically possesses cinderheart and relocates her arm. they go back to camp and take ivypaw to the medicine cat den, gives ivypaw some poppy seeds and ditches.

“wow um. wtf was that” says cinderheart. leafpool is like, “hahaha………… about that. you’re um… cinderpelt reincarnated.”

“what.” says cinderheart

“CINDERHEART IS CINDERPELT REINCARNATED???” screams foxleap at the top of his lungs in the middle of camp. whatever was left of cinderheart’s life shatters.

so now instead of ignoring her, the entire camp won’t leave her alone - except now they just treat her as they would cinderpelt. “hey cinderheart remember when [enter something that happened in the old forest here]??” “hey cinderheart can you fix my paw??” “hey cinderpelt-” “are you going to become a medicine cat then??”

to pour more salt into the wound, cinderheart now gets a free commentary on everything in her life!! (this definitely includes lionblaze) there used to be sort of a barrier between cinderheart/cinderpelt but since cinderpelt emerged/took control, it shattered.

so between cinderpelt complaining about all the terrible decisions she’s made and the entire clan pretending that she’s cinderpelt instead of a Completely Different Person, when hawkfrost shows up w/ an invite to fight club on the weekends cinderheart is more than happy to take him up.

sure hawkfrost is wildly annoying and clearly hates her guts for some reason (no matter how hard he pretends not to whenever tigerstar is around) but this is great for three reasons.

1) nobody in the dark forest has any idea she’s cinderpelt. 2) warrior training!! emphasizing she is a Warrior not a medicine cat. 3) time away from cinderpelt!! they arent the same soul so they cant read each other’s thoughts (unless theyre trying to communicate) and cant share dreams

so she might be purposely oblivious. whatever. she doesnt even know who hawkfrost is b/c anybody outside of riverclan immediately forgot about him because he really was not very effective at all. and its not like hes about to start spilling the beans until shes ready to be indoctrinated w/ dark forest propaganda.

meanwhile, tensions between shadowclan and thunderclan have been rapidly rising. again. prey is being stolen, scents are on other territories, patrols get into skirmishes often.

firestar is hurt because he was trying to get mistystar to lay off on the territory and blackstar is mad because they literally Just got back and thunderclan is ALREADY trying to reinstate old rivalries.

cinderheart really isnt paying attention to what’s going on cuz shes. more than a little wrapped up in her own problems. until it turns into a war.

this battle feels way more vicious than normal. cinderheart tries to recall how this whole thing started and realizes she has absolutely no idea what tf is going on???

throughout the fight she notices weird stuff happening. mousewhisker and redwillow nod to each other. ratscar + blossomfall swap glances. applefur pulls snowbird off thornclaw’s back. literally wtf thinks cinderheart

and then russetfur takes a stab at firestar. out of nowhere, thornclaw goes for her throat. cinderheart barely saves russetfur in the nick of time - the injuries are bad enough that she is forced to retire.

“screw literally everyone in thunderclan except u” blackstar says pointing @ cinderheart “and i hope the rest of you rot in the dark forest.” he rounds the rest of shadowclan up and then leaves.

“well that was weird” says cinderheart. she goes off to find ivypaw and realizes that shes. not responding. oh thats a lot of blood-

cinderpelt pops up again and works w/ cinderheart to patch up ivypaw until she’s stable. they bring her into the medicine den together and let leafpool look her over. she says that they made it in time and ivypaw will live. she leaves to go look after the other patients, leaving cinderheart with her apprentice

cinderheart realizes that this is her fault. had she actually paid attention to ivypaw and given her proper training, this wouldn’t have happened. she resolves to try a lot harder to be a good mentor for ivypaw’s sake.

cinderpelt approves and apologizes for being so intrusive on cinderheart’s life. she really doesnt want to be in here either - this was a decision the idiots in starclan forced on her. she was taking it out on cinderheart, which wasn’t fair for her.

cinderpelt promises to try to give cinderheart as much privacy as she can (while trying to figure out how to get out of her brain). cinderheart thanks her. there’s a brief bonding moment.

cinderpelt says that since ivypaw seems stable she’s going to go to sleep now, since she exhausted herself earlier.

just as cinderpelt goes out to the back of cinderheart’s mind, blossomfall comes storming in about how cinderheart messed the plan up and how cinderheart screwed everything up for everyone & she’s a traitor to the cause, Honestly cinderheart you’re so useless-

“literally wtf are you talking about” says cinderheart

“you saved russetfur,” blossomfall says. “if we take out the leaders and deputies, we can destabilize the clans enough that taking over will be a piece of cake. are you a dark forest trainee or not, cinderheart?”

end of book

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hellimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Starlight Saviour (Chapter Two) -- Billy Hargrove

*My masterlist link can be found in my blog description*

Summary: Being Steve Harrington’s younger sister and the notorious girlfriend of Billy Hargrove is hell. Especially when your boyfriend becomes infected and you’re the only one willing to step between him and the monster.

Warnings: Injury descriptions, angst

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Harrington!reader

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: This is kinda short so rip but be p r o u d that I even posted ok ily guys. Also, please make sure you read my Taglist Rule before asking to be added to the S.S Taglist.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of Billy’s Camaro felt wrong, like ice seeping through the blood of your veins. It didn’t feel wrong because you’d never driven the car before, no, on the contrary, you’ve had to take over the blue baby on multiple occasions: if it was Billy’s turn to get plastered at a party, the keys were always firmly in your pocket, or if Billy had another fight with his dad and his hands were shaking to the point of jerking the car, you always eased him into pulling over so you could drive, or if you simply missed the control driving gave you, Billy would hand over the keys without complaint. Being behind the Camaro’s wheel, shards of glass crunching under your ass, wasn’t what had your blood freezing as you stared out the glassless windshield, trying to figure out what had just happened; it was being in the car alone, without the familiar warmth of Billy’s hand on your thigh or his finger curling in a strand of your hair. It was the knowing fact that you were whole-heartedly alone in this fight and you may never get to hold your boyfriend in your arms again.

Your bloody hands gripped the steering wheel tighter and a shaky whimper escaped your lips. You still hadn’t pulled out of Brimborn, still hoping that Billy (not The Mind Flayer) would limp out of the rusted doors and fall into your arms, safe and whole. But he wasn’t going to, not any time soon, and with that knowledge, you dropped the keys into the center console. You couldn’t bring yourself to drive the car without Billy, and in case he did come back, you didn’t want him stranded and afraid. Making up your mind, you dragged yourself out of the car on shaking legs and shut the door with a deep breath, preparing yourself for the walk ahead. You could handle it, you’ve dealt with worse and no doubt would be dealing with worse to come- but Billy didn’t deserve that. To wake up to find himself alone without you or his car, and with possibly no recollection of what happened. A few miles on a broken ankle wasn’t going to kill you, you’d be fine, you could handle it.

Holy hell, you were going to die.

It was presumably two hours into your walk, and you had just made it out of the backroads, leaving the support of the woodland trees behind. By now, the pain in your ankle had made its way up to your head and you couldn’t tell what hurt more: your ankle, the right side of your body, your knees, your head, or just… everything. But, you were willing to put your money on the ‘everything’ part of your body. You had had to take off your shoe about half an hour ago since your foot became too swollen for it and your sock, and because of that, the bottom of your foot was getting cut up on rocks and sticks and jutting trash littering the ground. Limping and putting your weight on your right foot only did so much for so long. But, you had to keep going. No matter how badly you wanted to and how much your body throbbed, you had to keep moving. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could figure out a plan to save Billy.

Lifting your head from examining your ankle, you were able to see the bright lights of Starcourt Mall and the fair. It was still dead silent where you were, but at least now you had hope and relief that you’d make it back home before sunrise. You weren’t sure what time it was, nor how long it would take you to actually get home, but you gripped onto hope and let it push you forward, willing one foot in front of the other.

—

By the time you clambered up the cement steps of your front porch, the black sky was beginning to shift to a dark, cerulean blue. The stars were gone but the moon wasn’t, only just beginning to fade into the west as the sun peeked in the east. Steve’s car was parked half-hazardly in the driveway, and, per usual, your parents’ cars were nowhere to be seen. Quietly, you slipped inside the house, thankful that Steve never bothered to lock the door when you were ‘out late’. Toeing off your shoes and kicking them beside the door, you crept upstairs, pausing momentarily outside of your brother’s room. Even though your entire body ached and your mind felt numb, you still wanted to reach out to him and find a sense of comfort somewhere. However, the familiar sound of Steve’s snores filled your ears, and you couldn’t find the effort within yourself to wake him up.

So, you turned back around and headed to your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. It only took a second for you to fall asleep once your bloody and battered body hit the bed, quiet whimpers escaping your lips as nightmares overtook your mind.

Around noon, you woke with a jolt and a thin layer of sweat coating your body. Your tank top stuck uncomfortably to your body, and the sweat had allowed the dry blood to slip off onto your bed, creating a horror show of a mess.

You sighed, “I’ll deal with that later.”

Pulling yourself out of bed, you winced at the pressure applied on your left ankle and briefly looked down to see that it was still an ugly color and unbelievably swollen. You were hoping that last night was just another nightmare, that Billy was safe and okay, but you knew that that wasn’t the case. You still had no idea what you were going to say to Steve (or anybody else for that matter) to try and convince them to help you. You weren’t even sure they’d believe you- they’d probably all think Billy was the one who purposely caused your injuries. A headache began to form at the thought of that and all the instantaneous thinking you had begun to do upon waking up.

Groaning, you pressed a finger against your temple, wincing at the sudden sharp pain. Sparing your hand a look, you saw glittering glass shards imbedded in it, trailing from your fingers up to your shoulder. God, you had so much cleaning up to do. With a shake of your head, you stood up, staggering towards your bedroom door. You paused for a second, listening for any signs of Steve, before deciding the coast was clear and sneaking out the door. You dashed across the hall (as fast as you could on a damaged ankle) and slipped into the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief once you were safely inside. It hurt to do so, but with a wince you managed to crouch down and open the cabinet under the sink, checking for any first aid supplies.

To your surprise, there was a fully-stocked first aid kit under the sink, decorated with the red cross and caduceus. Opening it up you pulled out tweezers, bandages, antibiotic ointment, and other things you weren’t sure if you’d need or not. You stripped off your shirt and your shorts before turning on the shower to the hottest setting it would go. You waited a minute, allowing the water time to heat up, before sticking your right arm underneath the spray. Pain instantly lit up your body but you bit back a cry, teeth smashing into your bottom lip to keep quiet. Breathing through your teeth, you clenched your fist tightly, forcing more blood to flow from your freshly opened cuts. Even though it hurt, you knew you needed to wash off your arm as much as possible in order to pick out the shards and disinfect it properly. The water burned your wounds, both because of the temperature and because they had already begun to turn an angry red, a clear sign of an oncoming infection. Regardless of the pain, you kept your arm under the water for a few minutes, scrubbing away the occasional dry-blood flake or speck of dirt, before you pulled it back and shut off the water.

A sudden knock at the bathroom door startled you, causing you to jump backward and knock yourself into the sink, nearly slipping on the puddle that had formed beside the shower. You yelled out in pain, which only made the person on the other side of the door knock again, harder. “(Y/N)! You okay? Why didn’t you come home last night?” Steve called through the door, no doubt pressing his ear against the wood to better hear for any signs of distress.

“I’m fine!” you lied thickly, clenching your teeth due to the amount of pain you were in. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure?” Steve pressed, but you only rolled your eyes.

“Yes, Stephen. I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” you yelled.

Silence followed, before you heard a grunt of disapproval and footsteps leading away from the door. Sighing in annoyance, you turned back to the first aid kit while shaking your arm to try and rid of a few water droplets. Grabbing the small pair of tweezers, you began to slowly pick out as many of the shards as you could. Your left hand shook as you plucked out shards, and most of the pieces of glass were minuscule compared to the ones that had already fallen out- both of which slowed your progress down to an annoying level. But, you had to try your best in order to avoid any serious infections. You dropped each shard into the trash can, making a mental note to take it out later before your older brother found any evidence of your injuries. Once you managed to pick out the pieces of glass (the ones you could see at least), you slathered on antibiotic ointment and wrapped your arm in a bandage. You looked around the bathroom for anything you could use to cover your arm, not wanting to make the extra trip back to your room, when you saw a hoodie hanging on the back of the door. It was Billy’s red Hawkin’s Lifeguard jacket, and as you slipped it on, you could still smell Billy’s cologne, cigarettes, and pool chlorine. A deep ache filled your chest, instantly filling you with a longing to be back in your boyfriend’s arms- one you had no choice but to ignore as you hurriedly cleaned up the bathroom before leaving. Your fingers messed with the hem of the jacket sleeves as you shut the door behind you, a familiar burning sensation in your nose alerting you that you were about to cry.

“Fuck,” you choked out softly, momentarily leaning against the door to catch your bearings. You still had no fucking idea what you were going to say to Steve, and the thought of sitting down and reliving everything that had happened last night sounded horrendous. ‘God,’ you thought bitterly, ‘I just want Billy back.’

“(Y/N)!” Steve yelled up the stairs, making you roll your eyes as you were forcefully brought out of your emotions.

You screamed back, “I’m coming!”, before throwing yourself off of the door and hobbling your way down the stairs. At the foot of the stairs was your older brother, his hands cocked on his hips as he watched you try and limp down the stairs.

“‘The fuck happened to you?” he shot out instantly, eyes casting over your busted ankle.

“None of your fucking business,” you bit back immediately, scowling as he climbed the stairs to help you. He looped his arm around your waist and forced your left arm over his shoulders, before leaning your weight onto him and helping you down the last few steps. “I didn’t need your help.”

“You sure? Because your ankle looks like a fucking plum.” His tone was short and held no room for a sarcastic argument, but you were gonna give him one anyway.

“Oh yeah? Well, your face looks like a fucking pumpkin.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means, leave me the hell alone,” you snapped, shoving him away from you despite your screeching ankle. Steve rolled his eyes but stepped back, clenching his teeth at the obvious pain you were in.

“You need to go to the hospital,” Steve said, biting his lip in obvious worry as you winced with each step. He fell silent for a moment before whispering, “Did he do this?”, and looking over his shoulder in the direction of the living room.

You furrowed your brow, leaning against the wall for temporary support. “What? Did who do what?”

“The psychopath in the living room, did he hurt you?” he whispered again, but harsher this time.

“What-” You paused, your eyes widening in a suddenly horrific realization. “S-Steve… who’s in the living room?”

“Billy. What other psychopath do I know?”

—

All Writing Taglist (OPEN): @teageowen @mads---world @alex--awesome--22 @hxdesworld @frozenhuntress67 @samanthasmileys @simonsaysyasss @marvelismylifffe @bademliimagnum @wherewecangazeintothestars @black-tights-black-heart

Starlight Saviour Taglist (OPEN): @seasidemercury @andtheytoldustotellyouhello @egirlfairy @mckenzieeke @yourthebrokengirl @fandomshit6000 @ssstutteringbbbill @mystical-934 @klanceiscannon14 @goldenhourchild @top-nerd-03 @obsessedwithbillyhargrove @owochim @justafictionfan @mishacollinsisouroverlord @asheseiler @mishacollinsisouroverlord @hargrovesgirl @steph-fowlie @alex--awesome--22 @annimalq @erinkellyxxx @treblebeth @harduy

#starlight saviour #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things x reader #st3 #angst

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 5 months ago

Text

Song of the Sea

Past =-= Next

Author's note: Jophiel's next bit in Husbandry. Thanks to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric and Ash'val.

Warnings: None that I know of.

Summary: Jophiel learns more about the sea side town that his human lives nearby. And starts learning English by going to classes at a Community center.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

It had been nice to speak with Claude for a bit, even though the other had fussed over him and had threatened to send an Apothecary to check him over. Which he thought was unfair, since he's already healed up from his injuries.

He hums softly to himself as he mentally goes over the tasks that he needs to complete before he goes to the Community Center to learn more about the local language called English.

He listens to his wonderful Bonded talk about what they were going to do, among other things and hums and occasionally chirps out a response, either in stilted English or in Gothic.

He helps clean up the breakfast that they shared, base line food, he has to eat a stupidly large amount of it to truly be full. He has a meal of it, for the simple pleasure of tasting such wonderful variety and flavor. He still has some nutri-paste and rations that he will consume later to finish filling his belly.

Now that he knows about the Imperial Fist and Salamander base that is a few hours away. He'll try to report in for some supplies before scurrying back here.

Depending on the temperament of the First Borns that run the base he might get away with supplies, for only a few weeks of working for them.

They can't be too bad, Claude and Cedric are still there, and have brought in Ramiel and Catius to that place as well. Granted, they know and can withstand a lot of punishment and suffering.

But since they are on Ancient Terra... they could simply leave for a different 'war band' or base if it was truly intolerable. Or so he hopes that is the case.

After finishing up with the chores and helping with what he knew how to do of farm chores and animal husbandry (which admittedly is very little, and only what his dear, cherished Bonded has taught him).

"I will be back in a few days, meeting with brother-cousins," Jophiel carefully says to you in English, his accent and slight lisp endearing.

"Oh?" You ask him with a surprised blink.

"Yeah Cedric is fussing about making sure health good," Jophiel says struggling to say what he wants and needs to in English. "Is Space Marine Doctor."

"Are you sick or still injured?" You ask with a concerned frown on your face suddenly worried.

He had been badly injured and terribly skittish when the two of you had first met. But he'd healed shockingly quickly and had said that he was better.

"No- just Space Doctor check up," Jophiel says quickly trying to comfort you.

"Alright," You say as you try to calm down a little and stare up at him firmly, "If you are sick or hurt, tell me so I can help you. Yes?"

"Yes my heart," Jophiel says with an adorable smile down at you.

You can't help but smile back at him. He's so sweet at times, and it has your heart melt. "I'll miss you while you're gone."

"One of my hearts shall remain with you, always," Jophiel tells you with earnest red eyes.

You fluster a little at that. Jophiel is lovely, playful, artistic and slowly growing more articulate in English. He could be terribly romantic and flirtatious at times. You aren't sure if he means it like that or if that's just how he speaks.

He nuzzles you for a few minutes, a deep rumbling purr coming from deep in his chest. You gently pat one of his hands and lean into him. He's certainly cuddly, on his terms. The first time you heard him purr you had been utterly surprised and delighted at the same time.

Jophiel gently lets you go and heads off to go find that Imperial Fist and Salamander base that Claude had mentioned that he was living and work in. Once he gets close to the major inland city, he makes sure to carefully land, skillfully avoiding being noticed.

He closes his eyes and focuses and weaves the illusions on his wings which he lays against his back and makes sure to not move. He staggers a little from the dizzying amount of effort, focus, and energy that is being drained from him to hide his wings.

He shakes his head a little and starts to head towards the base that Claude had spoken about, he makes sure to send Claude a text message through the shared Primaris-only channels as he picks his way to the base. Carefully making sure not to impede the flow of base line traffic.

Claude finds him a few minutes later and looks him over briefly before they go to the Iron Fist and Salamander Base. They check in and he speaks to the First Born cousin, doing the 'check in' process that has been developed for the Loyalist that have landed on Terra.

He listens to what he's told, even as his vision starts to flicker, as spots start to show up. Claude is very careful in how he's holding him. Jophiel's grateful for that as he tries to not look like he's leaning into Claude as the effort to hide his wings becomes far greater.

He murmurs his thanks to Claude as he feels the other start to lend him energy to continue up the illusion. Cedric has a slightly pinched expression on his face as he heads to them. Spotting the way Jophiel is totally not being almost entirely supported by Claude's weight.

"You Idiot," Cedric hisses at Jophiel.

He grunts a little, it's taking all of his concentration and energy to keep up the illusion on his wings. Cedric continues to hiss at him under his breath and grabs Jophiel's other arm and swings it over his shoulders as they drag him to the nearest hiding spot where neither eyes electronic and natural can watch them.

"Drop the illusion," Cedric orders, all Apothecary sharp and commanding.

Jophiel does with a gasp, "Throne! That was really difficult."

"You are an idiot for doing witch craft on Ancient Terra," Cedric scolds Jophiel.

"I don't want to incite madness in First Borns," Jophiel protested. "you know that is what my mutation can cause in others, unless it's hidden. And I'm in armor, so I can't wear a cape to hide it."

Cedric gives him a sharp look and exchanges another look with Claude who is casually guarding the door. Technically they should take Jophiel to the medbay.

But- Jophiel would get upset if he had to go somewhere so public for a check up. Technically they should take Jophiel to one of the Librarian Captains and inform them of the Primaris Librarian Scout.

Technically, as Ramiel and Catius knock on the door carefully informing the trio of who's at the door. They are breaking some of The Rules, which is bad but Jophiel is uninjured and seems to be fine, stable and steady.

Technically, they should also inform the nearest Blood Angel or one of their Successor Chapters First Born of Jophiel being here. But Jophiel likely won't want to meet them.

"At least you haven't shredded your wing again," Cedric says tartly, "Or hurt yourself by being a block head."

"I'm not a block head!" Jophiel protests.

Cedric gives him an Apothecary Look TM, "All brothers who aren't Apothecaries can be Idiots."

That got all of them protesting that Cedric wasn't being Unfair and A Little Mean. Ramiel looks over Cedric with an assessing gaze, noticing that he seems... Upset about something.

"Cedric," Ramiel says gently, "Once you are done checking over Cedric, I'd like to talk to you."

"Fine," Cedric says not looking at Ramiel.

As one of the First Born Captains, and one who's a Scout Captain at that, who's been able to start to get through the prickly shields of the Primaris Marine Scout-lings that had been found, he'd been informed of their furtive movements, and how they seem to be hiding something. Again.

Captain Ash'val had been walking from one place to another- when he'd noticed that Cedric had a look on his face. One that he was starting to learn what that meant.

Then he'd seen Catius, and Ramiel try to sneak about. Since he can't find Claude, and no one has noticed him on the cameras or in person. That sneaky youngster (who he's not certain is Actually a Raven Guard, Honest), but a different, sneaky Legion, er Chapter.

Ash'val rubs his face a little and sighs, wondering just what was going on in the 42nd Millenium that has the Primaris Marines default to hiding their wounded brothers from the First Borns. Ash'val wonders just how long it's going to take before he, or Feldarim, or any of the others meet this newest Scout-ling.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #adeptus astartes #blood angel #blood angel oc #oc: Jophiel #primaris marine #primaris blood angel #oc: Claude #oc: Catius #oc: Cedric #oc: Ramiel #oc: Ash'val #mentioned oc Feldarim

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kyouxa · 6 years ago

Text

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Ayato Sakamaki (Story 06 + CG)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! I’m an amateur translator, but I hope you do enjoy it anyway!♡

Monologue

Ayato was imprisoned in the dungeon.

The reason was, that he was too attached to my blood and could kill me.

Naturally, I’ve been kept away from Ayato-kun since that happened.

Besides, I was supposed to live in the same room as Ruki does, probably for my own safety —

end Monologue

Place: Orange mansion — Ruki’s bedroom

Yui: (Is Ayato-kun alright...)

Ruki: That depressed face. You’re still thinking about Ayato even when he's not here

Yui: Yes, of course I am

Ruki: I thought, that I understood. I thought you’d be disgusted from him since he was only using you as his toy... but that’s not it.

Yui: (Because he is my lover, I've been going through so many things with him until now)

(Even if I’d try to explain it, he wouldn’t understand.)

Ruki: Oh well, the other day, do you remember those Scarlet guys who fought against Ayato?

Yui: ...! You mean Reiji and Shu-san?

Ruki: Correct. It isn’t always the case that they come to retaliation

Besides that, Carla from Violet won’t be too mature either.

Yui: (Really... Ayato-kun's action during this time were strange, he wasn’t thinking at all)

(If this is the case, the killing will begin in earnest)

Ruki: Well then? Do you remember anything after that yesterday?

Yui: ...Huh? Remember, what exactly...

Ruki: Naturally, you still can’t remember anything about becoming king. I’m disappointed in you.

Yui: I’m sorry, I-

Ruki: It may be a trivial thing, have you ever noticed something to think about again?

Yui: Even if I said so...

(My memories are back, but what Ruki-kun wants to know isn’t a part of it)

(Yeah, maybe I can tell him something if I’d speak honestly)

Ruki-kun. I know it’s probably funny but, could you please listen to my story?

Ruki: If that’s what you want. Okay

Yui: Thanks

So... In the first place, I think the story itself about the King and traditional Eve are strange.

Ruki: ...what?

Yui: I can't remember, but we lived in a place called Kanashimachi.

Ruki-kun is the eldest son of a house called Mukami, and his brothers lived with him, there was Kou, Yuma and Azusa Mukami.

We all became really good friends... and now they are our enemy.

And the battle to become king is a memory which is fake planted into their brains!

Ruki: ...hm. Is that all you wanna say?

Yui: Huh?

Ruki: You’re good with those fictional stories. But, I don’t want to listen to them.

I don't know what prospects have been there, but let’s not talk about unnecessary things

Yui: I-I’m sorry...

(... After all, I couldn't find any solution to my problem )

(Ayato-kun, who seems to remember little by little, but what should I do with everyone else?)

Ruki: It's frustrating that we can't go ahead even though we have Eve in our hands.

Moreover, there are few hands missing here. I need more or, this will be an exhausting battle. I have to do something ...

Yui: (Huh...? I know!)

Well, if you don't have enough hands, let's release Ayato-kun!

Ruki: Do you really want to die?

Yui: ...That is...

Ruki: Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll relieve Ayato from there.

If that man won’t behave this time. If not I’ll kill him this time.

Yui: ...Yes

(As Ruki says, Ayato-kun he’s just interested in my blood)

(This is frustrating, but reality...)

Place: Orange mansion — Kitchen

Yui: It's been a long time since I got to wash the dishes

(If I’d do nothing, I’d feel empty again)

(If I’m moving a little now and then... I should be okay)

...Tableware, there are 4 people. Ayato won’t be here to eat with us

(Ayato-kun, what should I do. I don't know how I could possibly help you.)

(And, if I actually go to see, as Ruki-kun said, ー next time I’d may be sucked to death .... ...)

But, I want to see him. I can’t stop thinking about him either.

(I regained my memories already. I remember everything about Ayato and the memories we made together)

(I can’t leave him that way)

I’ll go and see him. Even if they say no, I don't want to leave Ayato-kun alone.

Kanato: Who are you talking to?

Yui: K-Kanato-kun?!

(Since when was he behind me?)

You heard... everything right?

Kanato: Correct, I listened to you while you were washing the dishes. Do you want to see Ayato that badly?

Yui: ...Yes I do

Kanato: I’ll bring you to him

Yui: Is that... a key...?

Kanato: That’s the key to the dungeon where Ayato is trapped

Yui: Why do you have it...

Kanato: I went down to the basement and just took it. It was easy to bring it up

Yui: However, Ruki-kun will be angry if he notices the key is missing...

Kanato: Right now, Ruki is reading in the Livingroom. If you go out through the window of the kitchen, he wont notice.

Since the window of the corridor is open, please go in there. Because the stairs to the basement are right behind there.

Yui: How do I get there?

Kanato: What? I think I explained it perfectly, did you not understand?

During the time we will eat, you can go and see him as you please...

If you don't want to get in trouble with me please meet me right after we finished eating

Yui: Y-Yes...

Kanato: You will find the dungeon, or are you trying to act stupid and annoy me?

Yui: No! I will try to not act stupid anymore!

(Is he really going to help me? Maybe he noticed that I am frustrated...)

(this is an opportunity I badly waited for. I’m going to see him again...!)

Thank you Kanato-kun! I’ll be on my way to Ayato-kun now.

Kanato: ...hmh. It’s finally getting interesting.

Place: Orange mansion — Dungeon

(Really, I could’ve come here without seeing anyone. I have to thank Kanato again)

Ayato: ...ugh

Yui: Ayato-kun?!

Ayato: Chichinashi... why are you here...

Yui: I came to see you, Ayato-kun. More than that, the wound... !

(It got even worse since the last time I saw it... !)

Step aside. I’m opening the gate!

Yui: Such injuries...

Ayato: Shut up. Those are just little scratches...

Yui: That’s a lie. You’re still losing blood...

(Hey... wait. It was dim and I didn't notice, but the floor, the walls...)

W-Why is here so much splashed blood...

Ayato: I don’t know.

Yui: Did you go wild? That’s why the open wound got even worse...

Choices

1) — it’s not good (black)

2) — painless (white) ♡ ♡ ♡

— it’s not good

It’s not good! If it isn’t fixed, it will be too late!?

Ayato: My body is stronger then you think it is.

Yui: but... I’m worried about you

Why did you go wild with this kind of pain..?

— painless ♡

Painless? I'm sorry I would have taken the first aid kit with me...

Ayato: Tch... I'm strong enough to worry about it

Yui: But I don't want to see that kind of tough Ayato-kun...

Why did you go wild with this kind of pain...?

end Choices

Ayato: Why you ask? Because I wanna get out of here.

In a state of being deprived of such freedom...I'm convinced!

Yui: Ah! Stop hitting the wall! It would open your hand wounds again!

Ayato: Shut up! Don’t order me around!

Besides, it's noon that you've come to jail, is there any reason for that?

Hungry, hungry. Donate your blood until my thirst is over!

Yui: Wait...!

(My wrist gets gripped like this... it hurts...)

(But... he's actually shy. Ayato-kun changed a little)

Alright... suck as much as you want.

Ayato: ...huh?

Yui: It would’ve been better if I had stopped Ayato-kun at that time, I was able to prevent all of this

Even though I knew you wanted to be the best Ayato-kun...

If you are told to fight and become king...

I should have understood that no one could beat you, I thought it would be ...

Ayato: what’s wrong with you? Are you really going to forgive me for what I did...

Mostly, I like to say I knew it!

Yui: I’m sorry. I... know that

I'm sure I know more about Ayato-kun then he knows about himself

Ayato: Huh? What does that mean

Yui: (Ayato-kun's reason for being the best are the memories of his childhood)

(He tried so hard to make his mother proud and yet he was not able to—)

Ayato-kun get over it...

Ayato: ...ugh, what do you mean. Just a few minutes ago-

Yui: You don’t need understand. But let me tell you,

Ayato-kun will always be the best for me.

Ayato: ...always...?

Yui: Selfish, wild... clumsy. But also, delicate and gentle...

among that, the best can’t be any other man then Ayato.

Even if your memories are wrong, this time will always be the most important for me, even if you forgot it

Ayato: ...You’re... an Idiot

You came to meet the guy who had encountered you so badly, and more important... you’re not afraid at all?

Yui: Yes, it may be funny. Even so, I want to be the power of Ayato.

I don’t want you to suffer anymore. Please, drink my blood.

Ayato: What are you saying...

Fuck... If you really want me to

♡Roses♡

Ayato's mouth: Your thighs... they really are soft. Do you like the feelings of my fangs piercing your skin?

Yui's leg: What are you acting so embarrassing about? Ah, I understand. You think I might look down, on your panties maybe?

Ayato: ...if you want to satisfy me, let me suck from your thighs, that place seems perfect.

...Hmmm... Hmmm...!

Yui: Ah... wait... !

(He really is... rough. Hm, I’m... ahh)

Ayato: Heh... are you thinking about running away? Let me hear your voice coming out louder then...

I won’t give up so easily... ! ...Ahhh... Hmmm...

Yui: ...Ayato... kun... !

I won’t run away... I’d never leave...

Ayato: ... Are you serious

Yui: Yes... ah! Whatever happens, I’ll be with you...

Ayato: I see...

Yui: (...hm?)

(Now... in that moment, did I see a smile?)

Ayato: *sucks blood*

Yui: (Ah, he became... more gentle?)

(Right now... I am so happy... I can’t tell)

Ayato: Something’s... wrong... the taste, changed...

Yui: Huh...?

Ayato: This taste, could be my favorite. It’s amazing, I really like it...

Even though I was thirsty for a long time, I was so afraid of...

Ayato: ugh... that, dazzling again...

Yui: A-Ayato-kun...?

Ayato: I’m sorry... my head just started to hurt again...

Ayato: Ugh...

Yui: Are you okay Ayato-kun...

What... should I do, can I help you...

Ayato: Hm... ? Why is my head hurting so much...

Yui: Hm... are you okay Ayato-kun...

Ayato: I’m going to be okay... but—

How am I supposed to stop this—

Ayato: ... ugh...?!

Yui: Ayato-kun?!

Ayato: Right now... what was that? I saw someone’s room... it’s familiar...

Just Why? Where? Why am I remembering such a thing...

Yui: (Maybe... is he talking about my room?)

Ayato: Tch, what is it! It makes no sense!

Oi, tell me! We met before right? Where and how did we met?

I need answers, I feel so helpless! Describe it!

Yui: I uhm... uhhh...

We met for the first time when I was removed from the church —

Ayato: I know that! I remember something!

At that time... I was sleeping in the livingroom, when you came in our mansion.

I might remember something more then just that...

Yui: Oh...

Ayato: You were sent to our mansion, because you should’ve become the bride. I remember it...

You need to tell me more... I need to remember...

Yui: (He’s remembering and believing in my words. Nobody believed me until now)

(What should I say so he remembers — I...I...!)

Our home... the sakamaki mansion

Ayato-kun was living there at this place when we first met

We said that we loved each other in that mansion —

Ayato: ... Sakamaki...

*Ayato’s memories break*

Ayato: ugh... hm... !

Yui: Ah, Ayato-kun...?!

(What to do, would it be better if I didn’t say that after all? He was just suffering awhile ago... !)

Ayato: ... I’m so sorry... You worried so much...

Yui: Ah!

Ayato: You really... are a special person to me, yet you worried everyday like an idiot...

Thanks to you, I got everything back... all my memories... are back

Yui: You mean it...

Ayato: ...ugh...

Yui: Ayato-kun!

(Was he so surprised? Did he really collapse?!)

What’s wrong, Ayato-kun!

Ayato: ....zzzz....

Yui: Huh? He’s sleeping...?

(That’s good. Remembering everything probably made him very tired...)

(I’m still worried. I want him to sleep in a proper bed)

Kanato: What is going on here

Yui: K-Kanato-kun?!

(Ah, are they done with eating? I didn’t notice how much time passed at all...)

Kanato: It's already late, it's almost time for Shin to come to see you again

Are you trying to waste my kindness and laugh at me? You aren’t, right?

Yui: Well, that's not true. I am really grateful!

Ah... yes, Kanato-kun we should leave!

He will be fine sleeping on the ground like that right?

Kanato: You mean Ayato? You should go to bed and come back if you woke up.

Yui: Yes, that’s...

Kanato: Vampires recover faster then any human. You really are an idiot for not remembering that

Now hurry up, what would happen if Shin would figure out you and Ayato met?

Yui: (Ah, I should hurry!)

Kanato: Now, let’s leave already

Yui: ...Y-Yea

(We’ll leave him here...)

(Ayato-kun... I will come to see you again)

#ayato sakamaki #chaos lineage #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers ayato #ayato #chaos lineage translation #translation #ayato sakamaki translation #diabolik brothers #sakamaki

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red-tintedglasses · 2 years ago

Text

Flirting During Life-Saving Surgery 101

(TW for: general TW, masochism (implied), flirty murder, surgery)

Chapter 7/?

A large, clean-cut house is their destination. Jimmy leans his head against the headrest with a sigh. Usually, he would rather die than see Madeline, but this time, it's a life-or-death where the death isn't particularly glamorous or eye-catching. And who would want to die like that? He opens the car door and gets out and lurches towards the hard pavement. He stretches out his arms to balance himself, and he starts swaying, vomit rising in his mouth.

"Je$u$ chr*st..." Gregg slams the car door on his way out and leans Jimmy on his shoulder. "How the fuck did you even survive this long!?"

“I was doing just fine! I don't need your help!" Jimmy uses Gregg as his human crutch as they hobble to the front door.

Jimmy raps on the metal, missing a few times. Then again, fist hitting nothing but air. And now Gregg pounds his fist on the door. It swings open and a small, 15 year old opens the door. She has her black hair up in a pony tail with two strands left in the front, like shes always prepared to be looking down at a mess of human gore. Madeline looks down at Jimmy’s leg and she moves aside to let them enter. “When did that happen?” she asks. Jimmy hums. “Maybe an hour ago?”

Madelime rolls her eyes and she leads them inside, to the tiled kitchen. "Please sit down on the dining chairs. I'll bring my medical kit shortly." She leabes the kitchen and disappears around the corner.

Gregg guides Jimmy to the chair and sits him down which Jimmy does with a loud, relieved sigh. Gregg leans on the counter as they wait.

Bzzt.

Gregg ignores the phone's vibrating.

Bzzt.

Gregg moves off the counter, the vibration reverbing throughout the room.

Bzzt.

Jimmy doesn't seem to notice his phone buzzing with message after message.

"Jimmy," Gregg spits out through gritted teeth. "Your phone has been vibrating non-stop. Fix it before I fucking crush it."

“I didn’t notice, being shot in the leg is kind of more important don’t you think?” Jimmy sighs. He takes his phone out to find new messages from a contact freshly saved as Cyrus (tall killer ♡).

>Did you die?

>I mean you wont respond if you are dead >But i wouldnt know if you were dead or just not a texter! @_@

>are you still bleeding?

>if you still are at this point thats actually kinda embarrasing >:/

>ok your iced coffee thing from that cafe is okay

> …

>no its bad im sorry >~<

>that was mean i apologize :(

>ok im definitely rambling

>ugghhhhh sorry

>ARE you dead tho

>if you arent then text me

>or not if you dont want to

>if you are dead then like

>uhhhhhhhh

>fuck i dont know

>Ouija me ig

Jimmy blinks in surprise at the long, rambly string of texts.

<bury me with my garfield collection

>oh nooooooo!!!!!!

>cant believe you diiiiied!!!!

>...:?

>collection of what tho

>like books or toys

>what about your worms?

>WAIT WAIT sorry uh

>are you still dying and being shot at

<nah i shot the cop, he was like right next to us and killed him and shit

<hes so dead and not alive

Jimmy doesn’t bother telling them how badly he had fumbled the bag, or in this case, gun.

>what thats it?

>well thats no fun >:/

>expected more from Star Glasses Jimmy >wait wait omg!

>so theres this girl right and she got

>well lets just say she got punished >;)

(Somewhere in the distance, Cyrus cringes at the winky face they sent)

>and now shes all broken and shaking and had a panic attack

>all because of havng a bit of fun with her! >:/

>sorry rambling again

>most people dont find the human psyche as interesting as i do

<mc fucking excuse me?

<tell me more about this girl

<is she alright?

<and dont worry about rambling, im a fucking hot mess also.

>no she is not! :D

>and dont worry abt her being okay, she can do her job just fine!

>ooo you want to heat my silly rants about the mind and atuff?

>yay! >w<

Jimmy smiles at the emoticon.

>okay, so

One long rant about hypervigilance and heart rates later, Jimmy understands nothing.

>and next time you see a cop, we can meet up and put that pig through some hellish torture!! >:) I have many ideas for convienent torture methods as well!

>Much more fun than a plain old panic attack like that girl decided to do, hehehe

>that is, if you dont get shot again •-•

<well hey give me the benefit of the doubt, i was bleeding out and the car was moving.

<damn, you really fucked up that girl didn’t you?

>i did fuck her up! It was really fun too!

>I got punched by her though :(

>but it was worth it!

>:?....

>i hope your text was meant to sound proud of me!

>if not then your not as fun as i thought youd be~ >:3

>and here i was, offering to show you Cyrus's Convienient Torture Hacks for Instant Euphoria!

<darling

<have you seen my murders, id say im the opposite of fun ;)

>no, i havent seen your murders :(...

>but judging by your tone i can safely say >that i'd love to watch you go to flesh-ripping town on some victims

>we have very similar definitions of fun, >Darling ;)

>Look up ‘the artist chicago' if you like blood baths~

>bluh

>why bother with googling? Theyll just be censored, at best just blurred

>the public are a bunch of pussies! Like its just a bit of guts and blood! Ò_Ó

>and cmon, i could just whip up my own blood bath!

>bet i could do better than you >:)

Gregg is reading over Jimmy's shoulder. He rolls his eyes with an infuriated sigh.

<gregg stop reading over my shoulder, i can see you dumbass

<mr. Can’t Even Get the Cops off His Ass

<anyway, CYRUS you could never beat my murders darling

>id love to see you tryyy~

>who is gregg :?

>anyway

>call me darling again and maybe I'll try harder,

>Sweetheart! hehehe…

Gregg groans out, "Oh my fucking god, Jimmy. What did I just tell you about oversharing?" He means it rhetorically only because he knows Jimmy forgot already.

“Why do you care so much, anyway? You're no fun…” Jimmy pouts.

<gregg is just the guy who like saved my ass

<but hes so boring and hes yelling at me

He sees the last text Cyrus sent

<call me sweetheart and i’ll rip out your eye balls and feed it to your neighbors dog

>0_0

Jimmy corrects himself

<darling ;)

>0o0

>well what would you prefer?

>Sweetie?

>Sunshine?

>^^you called me that at one point i think

>perhaps even Darling!

>Kitten?

Jimmy holds down a giggle.

>But i am intrigued in seeing you again, even if you will rip out my eyeballs right after

>sweetheart

>sweetie

>sunshine

>want me to go on?

Madeline comes back with a red duffel bag. She kneels in front of Jimmy and begins cleaning the wound.

<if you call me kitten, i will torture you in ways you could never even think of, honey ;)

<i am also 'intrigued' to see you again, maybe when my leg isnt bleeding out?

<you never know, you might even find my address and just show up

<i do that alot! The shock value is unmatched

>why not make it a fun game of leaving behind breadcrumbs and leaving me to pick them up and investigate them, huh?

>drag me around on a chain of red tape until i finally win?

>lets see if you can make good on your winky-faced threats, kitten

(In their apartment, Cyrus is currently burying their face into a pillow and grinning like an idio).

<i hope you dont use your eyeballs much, love ;)

<but im more into real bloodbaths and not boring old investigations

<if it makes you happy, i can add a couple of extra special hearts in my crime scenes for you~

>youll dedicate some of your bloodbaths to me? :0

>thats not as scary as your trying to make it sound :)

>i do take it back though! Youre very fun. As a killer.

>and im fun! As a torturer!

>we should show each other the ropes sometimes

>and i mean that genuinely, kitten~ ;)

>^^see that? Triple threat. Tilde, winky face, and calling you kitten

>try and beat that >:)!

>(i am being genuine tho)

Madeline starts removing the bullet with a pair of tweezers, her hand as steady as a senior surgeons. Jimmy winces in pain.

<im better at delivering my threats than giving them, darling, no matter now many winky faces i have

<and who said it was supposed to be scary? <i think theres a better use to your body when its dead

<your intestines could be some pretty nice party streamers, my ray of sunshine ;)

>anything for you sweetheart!

(Cyrus whimpers, flustered and pleasantly shocked by Jimmy's 'threats').

>bet i could show you how great it feels to feel somebody writhe and scream and cry as you inflict agonizing pain upon them!

>you can show me a thing or two as well, kitten

>if you do then you can do whatever you please with my intestines.

>just make sure im alive and aware for it :)

>Wouldn't mind my organs being taken if it was you~ ;)

Gregg sighs. "Oh my god, stop fucking flirting. Even Madeline can tell you want this guy in your pants, and she's dealing with the sinkhole in your leg!"

Jimmy’s face goes through the five stages of grief. “Gregg, please don't bring me into this,” Madeline says, not looking up from her work. “Oh, come on!" He huffs. "We'ree not /flirting/, that's how I /always/ talk!” He beams at Gregg innocently.

"Either way, /they're/ flirting with /you/. A lot. They literally want you to take their guts out. And /watch/ you do it." Gregg sighs and looks away from Jimmy's phone. "Can't fucking deal with this anymore..." he grumbles. However he clearly decides to continue dealing with it, because he doesn't move from his optimal phone-seeking position.

“I can't blame them! Did you see my gut dress? I'm practically an expert in that by now!” Jimmy laughs.

"God, no. I dont want to see whatever paraphilia this is in action while you two flirt like there's no tomorrow."

Cyrus continues texting.

>i am being serious about the delights of torture! >w<

>invite me the next time you get that itch in your brain for a good bloody hunt. >:)

Jimmy grins and Gregg groans again.

>i think i can make the euphoria last longer, kitten, in ways you cant imagine

>just like your fun little plans for me~

“But /Gregg/," he moves his head to wink at Gregg. "there /could/ be no tomorrow!” Madeline places the still dripping bullet onto a towel, which she wraps up and puts into a paper bag. She takes a needle and threads to sew up the wound with. “Jimmy, they are really flirting with you,” She comments before she starts.

"Yeah, exactly!" Gregg huffa. "And /she/ can't even see the fucking screen! And I /would/ say you're flirting back, too, if you werent such a hot mess of flambuoyancy! I cant even tell when you mean the things you say!"

“I am /not/ a hot mess of flambuoyancy!” He turns off his phone. Madeline cuts the final thread and admires her finished handiwork. She remains silent and watches the argument play out.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Just dont fucking meet up with that guy, okay? For all we know, they're going to plunge a knife 8 inches deep into you!"

Jimmy goes silent and swings his legs on the chair. “So… bad news. Its a little late for that!”

Gregg slams his palm against the back of the chair. Then he paces in a tight circle, once. Then he yells loudly into the ceiling.

"C'mon Gregg, I already /told/ you how I met them!'

"Well, fuck me! You wanna be cremated or buried, Jimmy?"

“Why are you so worried!” Jimmy yells back

"Because even if it hasn't been hammered into /your/ thick skull, I know that /outsiders/ can't be trusted! Especially when they want you to vivisect them!" That last bit isn't actual proof, it just irks him.

“I'm sure they weren’t serious about it!” He’s pretty sure they are serious about it.

"God, you're a fucking idiot." He pinches his forehead like he's having a migraine. He can feel one coming on already. "How much longer 'til he's done, Madeline?"

“Oh, I've been done for a while now,” she says from across the room making tea. She had gotten bored of the arguing. "Tea, Gregg?" Gregg looks down where he last saw her. Then up at where she is now. "Oh. Uh. Sure. Jimmy?"

Jimmy giggles knowingly. “I'm good, but thanks, Madeline!"

Gregg makes his way over to Madeline. "I'll take some." She gets out two tea cups and pours in the deep brown liquid. “Do you want sugar or cream?”

"None. I take it straight." No he does not. Gregg is a coffee person and has never tried tea. •But how different can it be?• He grasps the cup like it's a mug. "Look, Jimmy," he takes a sip and turns to Jimmy. "Just stop flirting with them. Or at least don't let them entertain the notion that you'll go on some passionate killing spree for them."

“But I would go on a mass killing spree for them?” Jimmy looks confused. "I already promised!"

Madeline grabs her cup of tea and pretty much fades into the background.

"Yeah, sure, okay! But don't!" Gregg takes another sip and grimaces from the taste. "See this look on my fucking face?" He points a finger at myself. That's because this whole thing with this Cyrus character reeks of backstabbing!"

“But why not? Murder sprees are fun!” He says offended “And you should meet Cyrus! They are a perfectly fine person!”

"Uh-huh, yeah" he slowly puts down the teacup and tries to lick the taste off from inside his mouth. "Go and murder, whatever. Just not for /them/. And I don't want that fucker's grubby paws in my life the same way they've got you sending winky faces and pet names and flirty threats every other text."

"Gregg." Madelike pipes up.

“/What/, Madeline?" He snaps, frustrated.

"How does your tea taste?"

"Uh.." Gregg looks down at his tea. "Like shit." He grabs the counter, suddenly unbalanced.

"Please be more specific."

"It stings and has an aftertaste."

Madeline sighs. "Thank you. The solution is meant to be tasteless." She takes out a small cup of lightly-greened fluid. “Please drink this.”

"Uhh..." he squint and reaches for it. He misses the first time, and at the second try he grabs hold. He ingests the antidote. "What... was that?" He asks.

“A poison I'm working on. It still needs some work."

Now recovering, Gregg glares at Madeline. "You poisoned this and didn't tell me?"

“Yes, my apologies.” She has always spoken like she was before her time. “Don’t worry, it wouldn't have killed you, especially if you were my victim and you tasted it and understood your drink had been tampered with.” Gregg sighs and rolls his eyes. "Dammit, Madeline, you could have just asked!" He looks back at Jimmy. "Did you know she was going to do that?"

“She does that sometimes~" Jimmy smiles and shrugs.

"You should've poisoned Jimmy instead. It would knock some sense into him." Gregg huffs and goes back to leaning on Jimmy's chair. "And him being passed out on the floor would save us the misery of hearing some more shit flirting."

“If he asked for tea, it would have been him," Madeline says in an attempt to be comforting.

Gregg scoffs. "If we get him sober, maybe the collective hangover can kill him." He looks at Madeline. "Do you have coffee? Without poison." “I don’t think I've ever seen Jimmy sober. It /could/ kill him.” She prepares a cup of coffee and waits beside the coffee maker.

"That guy you were talking to would probably be digging medical instruments into you if they wanted." He says to Jimmy, continuing their argument. "Considering how excited they got over some traumatized girl."

“Well everyone has their quirks! And it was interesting! Even if I didn't really understand it…” He mumbles in Cyrus's defense.

"I think wanting to have their organs used as party streamers and traumatizing a little girl with practically /no/ violence goes well beyond a quirk! And- god, why do i bother?" He asks Madeline, "Can we leave now, or are there /more/ poisons you want to try on me?" He drawls sarcastically.

“You can leave," she gives Gregg a disposable cup of black coffee. She leads them to the front door.

"Call me if you start coughing up blood," she deadpans her joke. "Or if Jimmy sobers up.'

“Thanks Madeline.” Jimmys says while Gregg rolls his eyes.

They walk to the car as Madeline retreats back into the house.

"I'll drop you off. I can go home, /finally/. Unless you want to do something /else/ stupid and get shot again? Cyrus was right about that, at least."

“Me being shot was not a part of the plan! And stop bringing Cyrus up. They're nice and you're just being paranoid.”

"Yeah, yeah. I drive, you give directions. And tell that prick on your phone to tear out their /own/ intestines! And die! In the middle of bumfuck nowhere!" He opens the driver's side and gets in.

“Why do you hate them so much? Jimmy continues the moment he gets in the car. “Are you jealous?” He giggles.

"I am old enough to be your father. The only thing I could be jealous of is a corpse so I wouldn't have to listen to you and Cyrus fawn over each other." Gregg starts the car. "The fact that youre all-too trusting of them gives me a horrible feeling that you'll fuck the Crows over."

“Gregg, why would I do that? The crows where the only people who treated me normal! They saved my fucking life!” Jimmy exclaims, now serious.

"I'm not saying you'll do it intentionally! Just for the love of God, keep your damn wits around you! You've never interacted with outsiders unless you were about to kill, so just try to /not/ share club secrets with strangers!" Gregg starts driving, heading towards town.

“Yeah, whatever.” Jimmy ignores him and stares out the window.

"Jimmy."

"Hmph."

"Don't do that. What are you, fucking nine years old?"

"I'm not talking to you."

"You can't be mad at me! I'm looking out for the Crows! And so should /you/, by not revealing our entire foundation a guy you picked off the streets!"

Jimmy rolls his eyes. "I won't, Gregg, geez!"

"You /just/ were! What if they're reporting yoi to the cops because you confessed to beimg The Artist, huh? And they track down your messages to your precise location? What, then?"

"That won't happen!" Jimmy sighs, a dreamy smile plasteres on his face. "Cyrus is a very nice person. They sais I'm 'intriguing'!"

"God, fucking-" Gregg scoffs. "Fine."

Jimmy swerves around to face him, hands clasped over his mouth and stars in his eyes. "Really?"

"...Yes?"

"Thanks, darling! Now I can do whatecer I want without any conseauemces."

"Uh-huh, sure."

"Did Madeline poisom your coffee or something?"

"No," Gregg smiles, "it just tastes like shit. Besides, you'll never change your mind."

“Hey, darling," Jimmy giggles, "at least it wasn't poison again!” He checks his phone for messages, eager at the new string of texts from Cyrus.

>honestly i wouldnt mind popping up at your place unannounced ^w^

>would be fun to see that confident grin wiped off your face :)

>but a fun mystery game where i find you while you give me clues?

>or getting to surprise you?

>choices, choices! :/

Jimmy grins and texts back.

<why can’t we we do both?

<ill leave little clues at the crime scenes for you to find me ;)

>we shouldnt do both

Jimmy's smile falls.

>Id like to see again as soon as possible

>so why not just drop the theatrics, kitten?

<this ‘kitten’ stuff is adding up how many of your bones im going to break, hun. ;)

>i better rack up my numbers then, kitten!

>suffering violence under your hand would be a privledge~

>how many points do i get for other nicknames? :0

>and you better live up to your own praise about your delightful crimes! I'll be on the lookout for any of your tricky lil clues~

>maybe i should do something to YOU every time you call me one of your sweet little pet names. Suggestions? ;)

Jimmy rolls his eyes and smiles at the text message.

<i promise. I live up to my self-praise.

<I hope you will get creative with your ‘punishments’ for me ♡

Gregg rolls his eyes and clenches his jaw to avoid saying something snarky.

(Cyrus is almost sickeningly giddy and squeaks in delight at Jimmys response).

>I'll plan something special for you.

>and dont worry, i'll save my most lavish punishments just for you, kitten

>'Sweetie pie' is strike one, i'll be keeping count

<dont disappoint me darlin~

<♡

><3

Jimmy puts his phone away, but his thoughts still leech scarlet blush.

Gregg holds back venomous bile because he can't go back on what he just said. "Directions," he strains through grit teeth. “Oh," Jimmy's voice is distant, "I can find my way home, if you can just drop me off here,” he points at a random street corner, not even looking where it is and most certainly not close to his apartment.

"Jimmy, you just got shot, I'm not making you walk!" Gregg sighs, long and dramatic. "And I'm not going to drag you back to Madeline's if you collapse or something!"

“I'm fine! And besides how do /you/k now i dont live by here?”

"Directions. To your house. I dont care if its just a block away from here. I'll drive you up your front porch if I have to."

“Why do you care so much?” He goes to open the car door to hop out.

"Because I don't get points if a Crow dies on my watch."

"Wow," Jimmy rolls his eyes. "So noble."

"You're not walking with an injured leg."

Jimmy opens the door. “It's not /that/ bad, Gregg!” He sighs “I don’t understand why you care so much!”

"Because-!" He stops himself. Feelings were never his forte. •And I'd probably fuck up that conversation• "Holy shit, fine! If you're going to be such a pussy about it, you can limo home!"

Jimmy gets out of the car and shuts the door. He quickly disappears from sight, down the block and into an alleyway. A thick trail of glitter follows, fallen from some part of Jimmy's flashy getup. Gregg's eyes follow him until he disappears, then he starts the car and drives off. •Fucking idiot. God, I hope he doesn't get killed. He'd deserve it with all that recklessness. But, fuck, he better get home safe.• The city flashes by, bright neons and dark shadows. Gregg only seems to see the dark, obstructing his vision and bathing the car in pitch black. •Besides. I don't get points for a Crow death.•

The night air and the sudden calm beings out the intoxication that seems ro oermanently reside in Jimmy. The wall's texture screeches if he touches it, the night sky presses lile a blanket. But he recognizes the sky. And thw walls. He stops when he reaches telhe ens of the alleyway, where it opena up to a freeway in a plain. In the mid-distance, a flash of pink indicates where his dropped worm-on-a-string had been all this time. Like a perfect loop, he's back at the scene of the chase. And the cops are none the wiser. Through nighttime delirium, intoxication, and pain, he grins. He's won the battle. And he hopes he doesn't survive the war. •It wouldn't be as dramatic.•

#Red tinted glasses #Writeblr #Gore #Murder #Violence #Surgery #Masochism #mod robbie #Chapters

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randomfandomimagine · 7 years ago

Text

Special Like You (Peter x Reader)

Character: Peter Parker (Tom Holland)

Fandom: Spiderman

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader

Title: Special Like You

Requested by anon:

hi ^-^ Would you do a fem reader with Tom’s Spidey? she knows he’s spider man & always worries about him getting hurt, and secretly on the inside she’s insecure about her bff being a super hot hero and she’s just, her. And then she’s clumsy and trips too hard or something but won’t tell bc she doesn’t wanna seem weak and clumsy. he’s with her and sees how uncomfortable she is and then he’s cleaning her up and scolding her when her feelings and insecurities come out. Cliche, I know. Im sorry 😣

Requested by @friceaurelia07:

Hey! Could u do a peter parker one? (They're already dating) Like instead of Liz, its her who is peters date + shes the one he left at homecoming(he never saw her again cause she "moved"). But plot twist, shes a superhero and when he's at the new avengers compound, they she each other but he doesnt know that its her and he falls in love/is interested with her superhero self but she's pretty much pissed and kinda hates him and you decide the continuation. Thankyou♡

My heart was pounding. I impatiently tapped my foot against the floor. I looked at the watch for the tenth time. I checked my phone for the umpteenth time. Still nothing.

Where was Peter? Was he okay? Was he even still alive? What happened to him?! My mind was racing with thoughts, all of them about the many terrible ways in which Peter could have gotten hurt, or even died.

I was tempted to go downstairs and talk to May to distract myself since the anxiety was growing too big to bear, but she would notice how agitated I was and I wasn’t ready to explain that I was scared that my boyfriend Peter Parker, also known as Spiderman, was in trouble.

Resigned and even more anguished than before, I started biting on my nails nervously. Just then, I heard the sound of the window being opened and I immediately stood up from the bed.

“Pete!” I exclaimed as I threw my arms around his neck, holding him tight.

“Wow, jumpscare!” He notably jumped, startled, even though his arms still reciprocated the embrace in a daze. “Y/N?”

Slightly relieved now that I knew he was alright –or at least alive and not too badly injured –I angrily broke the hug by pushing him off me.

“Peter Parker, where the hell were you?” I whisper-yelled, trying not to get May’s attention.

He observed me, speechless, for a few seconds. Then he took his mask off and gaped at the air, opening and closing his mouth in astonishment.

“What…?” He muttered, frowning as he reached out to touch me. I swatted him away.

“You have any idea how worried I was?!”

“Worried? But…”

“Yeah, worried! Since you decided to go after those dangerous guys”

“Don’t you trust me, Y/N? I’m Spiderman, I-“

“You’re Spiderman, and there’s a bird man trying to kill you, Pete. What if he did, huh? I was so scared that this time you wouldn’t come back, that-that-that…”

“Hey” Urgently, he put his hands on my upper arms and squeezed me fondly as his lips suddenly met with mine for just a second. Briefly yet passionately. “Calm down, breathe, I’m okay. I’m fine, see?”

It was only when he shut me up that I realized I was very close to hyperventilating. I had never been so scared in my entire life. Just thinking about losing Peter…

“Hey, c’mon, Y/N!” Peter gently smiled at me, trying to reassure me. “You see me, right? I’m right here, nothing happened to me, I’m alright”

I just nodded, feeling very weak all of a sudden. The scares that boy gave me…

“Sit down” His hands were still in my arms as he gingerly placed me on top of the bottom bunker bed. “And relax, it’s okay”

“I hate you so much for scaring me like this, Pete” I mumbled, heaving a big sigh as I felt myself calming down a little.

“I’m sorry!” He replied whole heartedly, even though he was moving to close the door so May didn’t see him in his suit. “I’m really sorry, but you don’t have to worry”

As soon as he sat down by my side, he shyly reached out to hold my hand. I appreciated the gesture and rested my head on his shoulder, sighing again.

I wanted to talk back to him, but I felt like he wouldn’t understand. I admired Peter so much for being Spiderman. He was so brave, so selfless and heroic. He was New York’s hero, even if for him it was kind of ordinary at this point to be friendly neighborhood Spiderman, but for me it wasn’t. It was so huge, so important, so great.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me” Peter whispered, his thumb caressing the back of my hand. “I know what I’m doing”

“I know, Pete, but… it’s so huge” I wondered how he didn’t realize the way I looked at him, not only with so much love, but also admiration.

I adored Peter Parker as much as I loved Spiderman, and not just because they were the same person. But because they were two different parts of someone that I loved so much and that inspired me to be better myself.

“Hey, how about this?” To lighten the mood, his voice drastically changed from cautious and soft to cheerful and a bit more energetic. “Let’s go out! Take a walk, maybe grab some dinner? I would love to be with you for a while, I’ve missed you”

“You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear” I teased him a little, pulling away from his shoulder to look him in the eyes.

“No, I mean it!” His sweet brown eyes looked directly into mine. “Let’s go have some fun!”

“You got yourself a date, Parker” I smiled at him, feeling better already.

“Great” He squeezed my hand before he stood up. “Could you tell May that I’m home while I get dressed?”

“Wouldn’t she have noticed if you walked through the door?”

“Hopefully she was too busy doing something else to notice and I can use that as an excuse for sneaking in”

I chuckled, but let him put on some clothes –over his Spiderman suit, I assumed –while I stood up myself.

“Fine” I kissed him in the cheek and headed for the door.

Peter was already going through his clothes to choose something to wear. I looked over my shoulder to him, feeling so grateful that he had come back in one piece.

I couldn’t help myself, I went back to hug him once again. He chucked in amusement, but didn’t think twice to reciprocate by wrapping his arms around me as well. We lingered in the embrace for several minutes, just enjoying feeling each other so close.

I giggled when Peter playfully tickled my sides, squirming away so he would stop. He obliged and wrapped me in a hug from behind instead, resting his chin on my shoulder. Then he pecked my cheek, the smile still plastered on his lips.

“Peter…” I whined shyly, feeling self-conscious about being so affectionate in public. To be honest, he wasn’t usually like that but I guessed he was just trying to make me forget about before. And it worked.

Fondly chuckling, he positioned himself next to me and kindly held my hand in his. We smiled at each other and kept on walking.

“You have mustard on your face” Pete pointed my cheek. “From the hot dog”

“Oh, wait” I quickly wiped that spot off, hoping it was gone. “Now?”

“No, lower” He pointed to his own face to show the spot.

“Here?” I rested my fingers against the corner of my lip and wiped again when he nodded. “Now then?”

“Not quite”

“Where is it then?”

“Here”

I should have known and not fall for it. Peter then planted a sneaky little kiss on my lips, making me blush like crazy.

“Peter Parker…” I complained, flustered by his loving attentions and how adorable he was. When I looked back at him, he was blushing a little, but that bright smile lingered on his mouth.

I was too busy looking at him to watch where I was going, so I tripped. I twisted my ankle and lost balance. Before I knew, and even though I felt Peter fumbling and flailing around trying to catch me, I painfully landed on my knees. Since I was wearing shorts, I could feel how I scraped my skin.

“Sorry, Y/N!” Pete was kneeling next to me in an instant. “I tried to catch you, but I wasn’t fast enough to-to… I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

I stared at him, wincing and brushing my palms since they had broken the fall as well. They were scraped too, and covered in dirt form the filthy sidewalk.

“I think so…” I hissed through my teeth, feeling my knees burning and my ankle in pain as well. “My ankle hurts, but I think I’m okay”

Pete gingerly placed his hands against my legs, analyzing the damage. I looked too, and saw that I was bleeding a little since I had ripped most of the skin from my knees off.

“I’ll take you back and heal that, okay?” He mumbled nervously as he placed an arm around my waist. “We’re near my place, I’ll get you there in no time”

“Wait, get me?” Just as I spoke, he had placed his other arm under my legs and was lifting me up.

“Yeah, I’ll look at your ankle back home” How was he so okay with me being so clumsy? Especially when I was so mortified at that moment.

“I’m so clumsy…” I muttered while he carried me along the streets.

“Hey, it’s okay!” He smiled down at me. “It could have been worse”

“I’m fine, Pete” I babbled stupidly, hating to worry him and get his attention so focused in me over something so absurd. “You can put me down, I’m okay!”

“I don’t want you leaning on your bad ankle and making it worse” He sweetly smiled at me once again.

I just resigned myself and hid my face on his shoulder, waiting until we were finally back. Then we could get over it already.

May freaked out when she saw Peter walking in carrying me bridal style. We had to reassure her that it was nothing, but even then she rushed to get the first aid kit and Peter had to convince her to leave him to heal me. All that fuzz over a little fall.

Peter knelt down in front of me to take a look at my ankle as soon as he carefully sat me down on the bed. I sighed as I reluctantly let him work.

“I think your ankle’s fine” His hands gingerly palpated my ankle, looking up at me to see if I winced or complained, which I didn’t.

“I told you, I’m fine” I avoided his eyes. “It’s a bit sore, but I’m not hurt”

“Okay, now your knees” He went to get the first aid kit, and I sighed tiredly before he came back.

The silence settled on the room as he kindly pressed a small piece of cotton doused in alcohol against my scraped knees. It sting a little, but I didn’t complain. Peter still blew on it to alleviate it.

“You’re very quiet” He suddenly piped up, staring up at me. “And you look upset, what’s wrong?”

“I just…” I dared to look into his eyes, even though I heaved a sigh. “I feel so stupid…”

“Why?” Peter whispered, nearly heartbroken.

“Because I’m so clumsy! This isn’t the first time I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you like this, Pete! And it probably won’t be the last one either” I had to avert my eyes when he frowned, not wanting to see the sadness reflected in his eyes.

It was always hard admitting one’s insecurities, but especially when it brought sadness to someone you loved. And Peter seemed to be unable to understand my reasoning.

“I think it’s pretty cute” He mumbled, and I caught a glimpse of a casual shrug.

“Is it cute when I fall and hurt myself?”

“No! Of course not, I don’t like you getting hurt! But when you get embarrassed it’s pretty cute”

I knew he was just trying to cheer me up and see the silver linings, but I wasn’t in the mood for that at the moment.

“But you get why I’m insecure about it, right? I’m just so stupid… It’s something stupid”

“Y/N” Peter curled up his finger under my chin and gently lifted it up so I would look back at him. “You’re clumsy, yeah, it’s one of your flaws. But I love you, flaws and all. Because it’s part of who you are, and I love you exactly how you are, clumsiness and all”

“You mean that?” I whispered, feeling tears of frustration arriving to my eyes.

“Every word of it” He nodded vehemently, letting go of my chin to rest his hands on my hips. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, you’re perfect the way you are”

I chuckled through my tears, wiping them from the corner of my eyes before they could shed.

“So stop feeling insecure, okay?” He briefly leaned forward to leave a loving and lingering kiss on my cheek. “You’re the coolest person I know, and I know Spiderman!”

“Shut up, Pete!” I giggled, lowering my glance, now flustered at his attempts.

“Are you okay now?”

“Yeah, now I am”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure”

“Great, let’s go back outside, sounds good?”

“Fine”

“Besides, now I have an excuse to hold you close to me so you don’t trip”

I softly slapped his chest as we both left the room. But I gladly snuggled to his side as we walked outside, his arm tightly wrapped around me.

I laughed at the Star Wars joke Ned said, even if Michelle rolled her eyes at us and our geekiness. I was wondering where Pete had went, but decided to be patient.

I entertained myself in looking around at the wonderful job that Liz and the rest of the homecoming committee had done. The gym looked better than ever, with all those lights and decorations. And people wore with their best dresses and suits, I myself had bought a beautiful red dress that Peter had complimented –and how ‘awesome’ I looked in it –many times.

Turning to Liz, I told her how amazing the gym looked and before we could continue the conversation, I saw Michelle do something that caught my attention. She was jokingly flipping someone off, and I knew that Peter had arrived.

As he arrived, he smiled at Liz and planted himself in front of me. I frowned when I noticed the expression on his face. He seemed, worried, scared, absent. Something bad must have happened.

“Pete?” I whispered, even though my voice could barely be heard over the loud music.

“Y/N…” I only saw his lips moving, didn’t hear his voice. “Y/N, I…”

“What’s wrong?” I urged him, taking him away from our friends to talk to him.

I noticed Ned staring at us, since he was the only one that knew Peter was Spiderman apart from myself. And we both had the feeling that whatever happened to him had to do with Spiderman.

“I’m sorry” He seemed to momentarily get out of his own thoughts as he locked eyes with me. “I’m so sorry, Y/N”

“Why? About… about what?” I urgently held his hands, concerned. “What happened, Pete?”

“I have to go” His eyes seemed absent as he looked at me with a sad frown. “I don’t have time, I need to go right now”

That said, he broke the contact and began running away from me. I had waited for that day for so long, looking forward to the moment when I’d go to the homecoming dance with Peter Parker. And he was standing me up without an explanation.

“Peter!” I shouted, loud enough for some people to turn around and watch.

I then sought Ned, and his eyes fell over me as well. Being Peter’s best friend and my own friend as well, he must have realized how I was feeling. Confused, worried, scared, insecure, angry, resentful. All at once, which was messing with me a little.

“I’ll go after him” Ned put his hand on my shoulder to comfort me as he hurried behind Peter.

I was left standing there for several seconds until Liz came by and asked me if I was okay. I brushed it off saying that Pete had to leave and got worried for a moment, but that I was relieved when Ned went with him. It was partially true, but that explanation was too simple for the complexity of the things that were happening and the emotions I was experiencing.

For the rest of the night, I tried to enjoy the dance with my remaining friends. Michelle, Liz and the rest were really fun, but I was having a hard time focusing on anything. I kept checking my phone to see if Peter or Ned called, but they didn’t. I hoped that meant they were both okay. Ned didn’t come back to the dance.

The days after I felt truly miserable. Ned and I felt distant for some reason, and things were even worse with Peter. It always looked like he wanted to approach me and talk to me, but he never did, he always hesitated and thought twice. It only worsened my insecurities.

I had developed a deep resentment towards them, especially towards Peter. It wasn’t logical, and it wasn’t permanent, but I was hurt. He knew how worried I got about him, how insecure I felt about myself, and he just left without telling me anything. He abandoned me just like that, even if he had reasons to. Couldn’t he have spared two more seconds to tell me ‘I have to go after the bad guy before he escapes’? I would have understood that, I wouldn’t have gotten mad. Worried, of course, but not angry.

The previous close and intimate relationship we had was gone, replaced by awkward glances and eventually avoiding each other. I felt worse than ever, noticing his absence, missing our moments together, dwelling on my own insecurities. Feeling terrible about both our situation and my own.

So I made up my mind, I was going to change it. Even if it was too late for Peter and I to figure things out, I needed a change. And so I committed to that resolution.

Time had passed, and things had been quite crazy and frantic at first until I got used to my day to day at the new Avengers compound. I still could hardly believe that none other than Tony Stark had given me a job there, helping Happy. It made me wonder if Peter told him about me, but I quickly dismissed that thought, not really wanting to think about my ex-boyfriend. Despite the fact that I had no resentment left and I was still fond of that boy.

But getting back to the job, it gave me the opportunity to meet the Avengers. And eventually, after being trained –mostly by Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow herself –going with them to some missions and helping them as much as I could.

The relative tranquility of my new life was suddenly interrupted when Mr. Stark arrived, bringing a visitor. Just as I walked around the hallway after doing inventory for Happy, I noticed him walking with Peter Parker. And they were headed my way.

“Y/N” Mr. Stark greeted me with a head nod, which seemed to gather Peter’s attention as he hadn’t noticed me.

“Y/N?” The boy repeated, whipping his head so fast that he had to massage his neck. “What are you doing here?”

I paused for a second, realizing those were the first words we exchanged in months. He seemed to notice it too after being impulsive enough to talk without thinking, because he awkwardly looked away.

“Oh, so this is Y/N” Tony looked from Peter to me. “The Y/N, your Y/N”

Why… did it feel like Mr. Stark knew this would happen? Was he playing matchmaker? Was he trying to get us to talk? Or was this just a coincidence? His tone most definitely stated otherwise.

“Y-Yeah…” Peter babbled, unable to keep his eyes off me now. He was looking at me almost like before, with the same adoration and fondness, maybe even more.

“I’ll give you kids a moment to talk then” In a subtle not so subtle way, Tony pushed us closer to each other. “I have to talk to Happy anyway”

As soon as he had walked away, I self-consciously rested the folder I kept the inventory with against my chest and hugged it tight. I decided to talk first.

“I heard about your heroic deed the day of the dance” I mumbled, realizing I still had a tiny bit of resentment left even though I understood that Peter really had to go to save the day. “I suppose you’re here about Spiderman”

“That, yeah…” Peter nervously nibbled on his bottom lip. “Mr. Stark wanted to talk to me after that”

“Great” I was happy about him, I really was, especially since I overhead Tony saying something about ‘upgrading’ Spidey with a new suit. And I tried to say it cheerfully, I really did, but it turned out quite cold.

“So… what are you doing here?” His eyes briefly fell over the folder that I clutched to my chest, but quickly went up to my eyes.

“I work here” I rolled my eyes, being suddenly flustered about it. “I’m unofficial back up for the Avengers”

“R-Really?” Peter chuckled, causing us to lock eyes. “Me too, I guess”

I realized how I had subconsciously sought a way to be closer to Peter even if I was still trying to distance myself from him somehow. We were both in the same situation, secretly ‘working’ for Tony Stark and backing up the Avengers in the rare occasions in which they needed our help.

“Maybe I was trying to be special like you” I admitted, also telling myself so. “More like Spiderman”

I noticed the realization slowly arriving to his features, and he sighed tiredly. For a moment, he glued his glance to the floor, but after a few seconds he looked back at me.

“You were never supposed to compete with Spiderman” He said in a low voice, almost being in pain as he spoke. I knew he was somehow blaming himself for that.

“I know, and it wasn’t your fault” I sighed as well, feeling a weight being lifted from my shoulders after all that time. “But I wanted to, I admired you so much…”

“But Y/N… Peter Parker and Spiderman are different”

“Really? So you didn’t leave that day without your super suit?”

Peter gawked at the air, astonished by my sudden comment. I shrugged a little, taking importance out of it.

“Yeah, I know. Mr. Stark sometimes isn’t as secretive as he thinks”

“I never meant to…” Peter’s eyes were becoming watery. “I’m really sorry, Y/N, I really didn’t want you to feel like that”

“Look, Peter” I rested the folder against my legs instead, feeling suddenly fidgety and restless. “I’ve changed. In the time I’ve been working here I’ve… matured. The Avengers helped me realize some things, especially Mr. Rogers”

“I mean… he’s the oldest, right?” Peter joked, probably trying to hide the fact that he got emotional. “He’s gotta be... the wisest...”

He shook his head, embarrased about his goofy attempt. I smiled fondly, but continued talking nonetheless.

“I’m not mad at you, and I still care about you. I’ve gotten over most of my insecurities, I’m a different person now” I said it with the intention of showing him that I didn’t think like that anymore. Maybe I was still trying to reach Spiderman when I first started at the Avengers compound, but not anymore.

“Would you take me in again then?”

“W-What?”

“I… Really miss you, Y/N” His expression was that of a lost puppy, which was pretty adorable and irresistible. “We’d make a good team”

“You mean with Spiderman? Or with Peter Parker?” I tilted my head to the side, analyzing the shift in his expression.

He smiled a little, and his brown eyes sparkled with happiness.

“Both. After all, they’re the same person”

I smiled back, noticing he had realized I was right about that part. It felt like we had settled our differences, fixed everything that pulled us apart. It felt… reassuring, exhilarating.

“Okay, Parker” I leaned the folder against my ribs with one hand and wrapped my free one around his. “You got yourself a deal”

“Underoos!” Mr. Stark called him, and I was surprised when Peter walked his direction along with me, never letting go of my hand.

I noticed Tony looked at us with a little smirk, satisfied. He didn’t seem to mind that Peter was bringing me with him to have the private conversation with him.

“Just so you know” Peter whispered as we walked. “You’ve been always special like me”

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