#People nearby can just hear a distant/muffled ‘I always come back’

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Fanfic title game multiverse tales FNAF discussion

Dr. Scraptrap can’t help but become intrigued over the idea of other universes, and forms a plan.

Spring Bonnie, Plushtrap, and Elizabeth are confused as to why, upon going to check on him, they’re greeted by a ton of other Scraptrap’s.

OR: A Dr. Scraptrap fic where he messes with other universes, and brings a bunch of other versions of himself to the lab to have a chat.

#Masqueradenoir #Asks #Mad Scientist/Dr. Scraptrap AU #Not a quote #Ask game #Made-up fic title #Dr. Scraptrap #They’re all gathered around repeating their catchphrase or something #People nearby can just hear a distant/muffled ‘I always come back’ #Save tag

[agerefandom]

Angels At The Window

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Words: 1,700 

Characters: regressor!reader, caregivers!Vaggie and Charlie, misc background characters

Summary: Cleansing days are always terrifying, but you spend it with Vaggie and Charlie, and come home to the hotel at the end. 

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence (ie. bodies etc.), death mentions, fear and anxiety, drug references, religion, canon-typical Hazbin Hotel warnings! 

The sound of screaming drifts in from outside, muffled by the layers of blankets draped over the windows. Distant explosions underlay the chaos, rumbling through the walls and shaking the floor.

You can hear all of it, but most of your attention is on Charlie as she sings to you. Her legs are splayed out so that you can sit between them, and her arms are wrapped around you tight.

Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Charlie’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…

Vaggie paces between the door and the window, fingers tight on the handle of her spear. Anxious energy hums around her, hair swinging with each sharp turn as she walks the same line between the two entrances.

And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Charlie’s gonna buy you a golden ring.

Charlie pokes your cheek, trying to coax you into smiling, but you’re too busy watching Vaggie pace. Charlie sighs and bumps her forehead against your shoulder-blade, pausing her song to speak.

“Vaggie, will you come and sit with us? You’re scaring the little one.”

“I can’t just sit still,” Vaggie replies, twirling the spear in her hand as she comes to a temporary standstill. Still, her eyes are covering the entrances, watching for any sign of tampering. “There are too many demons who take advantage of Cleansing nights to get up to mischief.”

“No one is going to look twice at this place,” Charlie says confidently, smoothing a hand over your hair, pushing it back from your forehead.

“That’s assuming Angel hasn’t told anyone we’re here.”

“Vaggie, he wouldn’t.”

“Not even for a bag of his namesake?”

“Vaggie,” Charlie says, ineffectually covering your ears, which is a sweet gesture considering that you’ve been living with Angel for over a year, and are well aware of his habits and his career. “Why don’t you trust him?”

“Why do you trust him? You know how many people would love to use you as leverage against your father.”

“As if he would care,” Charlie scoffs, and both you and Vaggie frown at the uncharacteristic bitterness in her voice.

Vaggie comes to crouch down beside the two of you, resting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. You’re right, it’s probably fine, but I feel better if I’m keeping an eye on things. Also, fuck your dad.”

“Vaggie, the baby!”

“Fuck your dad,” you agree, patting Charlie’s hands where they’re still resting against your ears and doing very little to block out your caregiver’s voices.

Vaggie starts to laugh and Charlie follows a second later, both of them wrapping their arms around you until you’re sandwiched between them. This is both familiar and cozy, the way they tangle overtop of you. You rest your head against Vaggie’s shoulder and sigh.

And that’s when the three of you hear the electric crackle and the heavy beat of wings, outside the windows.

It is the unmistakable sound of an angel nearby, the crackle of their halo and their holy weapon, which can erase a sinner completely from existence, destroy their soul as if it never existed.

All three of you freeze, and you take a short look at the window, glimpsing bright light around the edges of the blankets, the shining radiance of an angel that must be right outside. No windows, no locks, no walls can stop them, once they’ve selected a target.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and Charlie’s arms tighten around you until it’s almost painful. The three of you are breathing shallowly, as if an angel was something that you could hide yourself from by being quiet.

Vaggie twitches, as if she wants to reach for her spear, but neither you nor Charlie let her go. No hell-forged weapon stands a chance against an angel or their blades. Heaven says that the Cleanses are for population control, but everyone knows it’s to remind Hell’s denizens that no matter how much they kill and struggle for power, they will never hold the palest candle to the light of Heaven’s abilities.

For the moment, you can only hold each other and pray to the God that never listened to any of you before. Please, I love them. Please, I want the chance to be better. Please, they mean everything to me.

And slowly the crackling sound becomes more distant, the beating wings receding, and the edges of the window are dark again when you manage to open your eyes.

Still, none of you dares to move for another long minute, until the relief creeps into your chest and starts to spill down your cheeks in quiet tears. They drip off your chin onto Vaggie’s arms, who immediately clicks her tongue and draws back to wipe them away.

“Shhh, cariño, we’re here, no need for that.”

Still, you can’t stop the tears from coming in earnest at her gentle touch, at her familiar voice breaking the tense silence.

Charlie starts sniffling behind your back, inevitably following you into tears.

Vaggie sighs and wraps her arms around the both of you again.

“What will I do with you two?”

“Don’t stop hugging us,” Charlie answers, and you hum in agreement.

Vaggie laughs a little, but she doesn’t let go until the world has gone silent and still, the screams finally at an end. There’s still the distant rumble of explosions and gunfire, the constant warfare of Hell, but there are no more panicked voices from fleeing demons in the street.

Charlie disentangles herself from the two of you, and stands with tears still wet on her cheeks. Vaggie helps her to dismantle the barricade in front of the door, then comes back and helps you to your feet while Charlie walks upstairs to check that everything is over.

“Come on, little one. We’ll need to help Nifty with the cleanup.”

“Nifty isn’t gonna want our help,” you point out, which is true: she views all of you as an affront to her system whenever you try to so much as dust a shelf.

“Well, there’s always something to do at the hotel.”

You walk downstairs, safely guided by Vaggie, and walk outside to see Charlie’s firework signal exploding in the sky, a confirmation that the Cleansing is over.

You and Vaggie wait until Charlie joins you at the front door. Vaggie gently puts your hand into Charlie’s and moves forward with her spear in a ready position, as you begin the walk home. Most demons are busy looting the bodies, but Vaggie still makes sure to glare at anyone who so much as glances at the three of you.

The streets stink of blood and the lingering ozone smell of angels. Bodies cover the road, most mangled beyond recognition. You’ll have to wait for the news coverage before you learn if anyone important was killed. The Cleanses are often used as cover for assassinations, which are grouped in with the announcements of the denizens who fell to angel blades.

Charlie walks steadily, her head held high and her hand warm on yours, but tears continue to stream down her cheeks. This is why she formed her hotel, after all: a response to the annual suffering that most people would say the sinners in Hell fully deserved.

Most demons and sinners stay out of your way after recognizing the Princess of Hell. She might have lost some of her reputation while promoting the Hotel, but her connection to Lucifer and now the Radio Demon both gave her a decent amount of protection… to say nothing of her girlfriend prowling in front of you both, wielding a wickedly sharp spear and looking twitchy.

You eventually reach the Hotel, which hasn’t fared badly in the Cleansing. There are bodies piled against the stairs, and one of the windows is broken, but it’s definitely seen worse days.

Charlie exhales, quietly relieved, and you squeeze her hand. She squeezes back, and then the three of you are picking your way up the stairs, sticky with blood and strewn with organs.

Stepping inside the hotel lobby, you’re met with a familiar sight. Angel Dust is leaning against the bar, bothering Husk, who doesn’t seem to mind the harassment. Alastor is standing in the middle of the hall with his hands on his hips, but he spins around and brightens when he sees the three of you enter.

“Wonderful! The final trio returns, spared once again from the blessings of Heaven. Streets absolutely flowing with blood, lovely weather, what a shame for all those unrepentant sinners!” His smile is as wide and sharp as ever, his eyes flickering over each of you.

“Where’s Nifty?” you ask, noting her absence from the group.

“Hmm? Oh, a few gentlemen tried to take cover upstairs in the hotel, climbed in a window and got themselves chased down. Made a terribly inconsiderate mess in room 237, Nifty’s in there cleaning up! Such a wonderful helper!”

“Okay!” You press yourself back against Charlie’s side, happy that Nifty is safe.

“We all made it this time,” Charlie sighs.

“Makes you wonder if this little Hotel might be onto something after all!” Alastor interjects.

“Really?” The beginnings of an eager smile appear on Charlie’s face. “You think it might be because of our work here?”

“No, I’m sure it’s a coincidence. But it makes you wonder!” Alastor says, and wanders off towards the stairs to his room.

Charlie momentarily deflates, but then seems to remember she’s holding your hand.

“Well, baby, do you want to go upstairs and get some rest? That was a stressful day!”

“Yes please,” you say. Stressful doesn’t really cover the bone-deep despair and exhaustion that follows a Cleansing day, but you know that a nice warm bath and a nap with Charlie and Vaggie will make it much better.

“Then let’s go.”

Charlie sweeps you into her arms with almost no effort: the perks of being a Hell-born demon. Vaggie follows the two of you up the stairs, offering a half-hearted wave to Angel Dust when he yells after you.

“Good t’see you’re not dead! Tell Husk his calves would look great in heels!”

Husks’s response is lost to distance, and in the calm swaying of Charlie’s embrace, you finally let yourself relax.

You’re home, at the Hazbin Hotel.

#hazbin hotel agere #agere writing #fandom agere #agere fanfiction #agere fic #reader insert #regressor!reader #my writing #my fics #hazbin hotel

[whythinktoomuch]

i. apocalypse now & then

Kara touched down, her boots meeting the earth with a metallic clunk that was promptly swallowed up in the dust and utter grayness of her surroundings. The warnings came immediately—insistent beeps, bright red numbers and figures flashing before her eyes.

“How’s it looking?” asked the tinny voice in her helmet, and Kara sighed.

“Yeah, you were right. Place is infested,” she said, studying the mess of debris and desolation that seemed to feed directly into the faint horizon in every direction. “Kryptonite readings are off the charts. There’s either a tower nearby, or mines just planted all over. Maybe even both, if i’m Iucky.”

Alex let out a harsh breath. “Look, I know you’re not going to leave until you find those people, but you better watch your fucking back out there, okay?”

“Hm… don’t I always though?”

“You ask that every single time, and every single goddamn time, I have to re-mind you of all—”

“All right, all right…” Kara said, rolling her eyes. “Just stop worrying so loudly already, jeez. I’ll keep you posted the entire time.”

“Like that was ever an option.”

“Love you too,” Kara said breezily, and she began her search.

She explored the area in proportioned sections, slipping periodically into x-ray vision, keeping her feet drifting an inch off the ground at all times. You just never knew these days. By now, Kara had stepped on enough lead-wrapped kryptonite mines for one lifetime, which coincidentally had been the same number of times it took to gray almost the entirety of Alex’s head. Or so Alex claimed anyway.

Apparently, over two decades of this sort of living could do that to a person: make them older, but also, steal away every last bit of their sense of humor. 

--

Whenever Kara happened upon a particularly extensive blind spot—jagged slabs of lead piled on top of each other—she took her time. Carefully sifted her way through all that rubble, with a spare bit of rebar or her heat vision from a safe distance. Calling out to any potential survivors that could have been trapped underneath. But as she steadily neared hour two of her search, it was starting to look like a lost cause. That whoever had sent that distress signal must have since succumbed to the environment, like so many others already had done before them.

Then Kara heard it.

Whipping her head around, Kara strained her ears to their very limit, all the while silently cursing how muffled everything sounded in this godforsaken suit of hers. It took a minute or so to hone in on it, but she finally made out the distant voice.

Help us. Save us. We’re down here.

Kara snapped into action, already hurtling full-speed toward the source of the cry. “Alex, I found them.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Alex said, but the note of relief carried through the speakers loud and clear. It always did, of course, given the scarcity of such a feeling as of late. “All right, get them out of there, and hurry your ass up. You’ve already been out there for too long.”

The voice grew louder and more distinct as Kara approached it, and eventually, she could even distinguish other people in the mix—their whispers, the muted beats of their heart seemingly punctuating every word, and all the shallow breaths of air in between. She counted at least five separate individuals, five more lives that she could potentially save from this impossible landscape.

But by the time Kara reached the point where the voice was sounding from below rather than from the distance, her excitement had all but waned, receded back into the ever present anxiety hanging in the air.

“… Fuck,” she huffed out, staring at the large swathe of broken rock and dirt and twisted metal beneath her, the letter K spray-painted all over the surface in a faded green. “Alex. They’re in a mine-rigged shelter.”

“Forget it then. Just get out of there,” Alex said, all rather predictably. “We can send an extraction team with defusers in the morning.”

“But that’ll take too long,” Kara protested. “It would take days, just for a task force to cover all that distance, and these people need help now.”

“No. I want you to put down a marker and come right the fuck back home,” Alex said. “That’s your last kryptonite filtration suit! If anything happens, if you sustain even the slightest bit of damage out there, you could—”

Kara cut the feed and swiftly locked her comms from all available channels, employing one of the few tips Winn had passed onto her before he died. Because Alex didn’t understand. How could she, when she wasn’t the one who had to listen to these desperate cries for help from people just barely out of reach.

She floated outside the presumed blast radius, planted her feet firmly to the ground, and went to work. Uncovering the buried shelter bit by bit, one sizable mass of charred rubble dug up after the other. It wasn’t easy. The kryptonite in the area, though not exposed, was much too close for comfort even through her suit. And it made the sun hotter, everything heavier, and Kara’s progress as slow as it could possibly be.

But all that—the sweat gathering on her brow, the soreness burning up her lower back—was a very small price to pay when weighed against the lives of at least five people in need. So, Kara kept going. She kept burrowing deeper into the earth with her bare hands, until the sun was but a small twinkle above her head and her fingertips were brushing against a patch of warmed metal.

And she could hear them better now. They were so close.

Kara pressed her palm against what had to be the outer wall of their shelter. “Hey, can you hear me in there?”

“Please help us!” came the frantic response, only somewhat muffled now. “Please get us out! We can’t breathe in here!”

“Okay! Okay… I’m gonna get you out, okay?” Kara shouted back, heart thumping hard in her ears. “Just… hang on.”

A quick once-over was all it took to determine that the wall before her—like most other surfaces nowadays—was naught but a few inches of commercial steel, coated in a thin layer of lead. And as such, all it would to take, of course, to break into such a structure was—THUNK!—a single punch from the Girl of Steel herself.

Kara ripped a hole in the wall, using her heat vision to melt down the edges as she tugged the entire thing apart. Eventually satisfied with her efforts, she was just about to crawl through her rather crude but functional doorway when the speakers in her helmet abruptly flipped back on.

“—him back to life, and just… throttle him for showing you that trick!” Alex was practically hollering in her ear. “Why would you ever need to do that anyway? The whole frickin’ point of the—”

“Whoa, Alex, Alex, it’s fine! I’m fine! Just shh!” Kara hastily cut her off. “I’ve pretty much got my foot in the door already, okay? So, I’m helping these people whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you fucking better,” Alex said with a scoff. “I want to look these people in the eye while you explain to me what was so goddamn special about them that you had to…”  

And Kara barked out a laugh, shaking her head in wonder as Alex continued to chew her out in a way that only sisters could, apparently. “Hey, you can do whatever you want, okay? Just let me bring them home first.”

“Fine. Just don’t kill the comms this time.”

“Oh, I would never.”

“Kara, I fucking swear to—”

But the rest of all that swearing quickly faded into the backdrop, as Kara finally poked her head into what should have been just another underground refuge from everything their world now had to offer. Because ten feet below from where she had burrowed her way in, was not a handful of dehydrated people waiting to be rescued—only masses upon masses of thick coils and plates of smooth black metal shifting about.

That’s when Kara realized that it’d been quite some time since she’d heard a cry for help. And soon after that was when a muted click! sounded, then somewhere down there in the midst of all that darkness and mechanical movement, came another loop of voices calling out to her.

“Oh shit…” Kara whispered, and at least ten sets of glassy eyes flicked up to stare at her. The pre-recorded voices immediately cut out, and the entire room lit up in a vibrant green as the machines all powered up with a collective hum. “Shit, shit, shit, you were right!”

“Right about what?” Alex demanded, but Kara was too busy heeding her long overdue advice of getting the fuck out there to respond.

Kara burst from the ground in a flurry of dust and clattering scrap metal, already heading for the horizon at full-speed. She needed to put as much distance as possible between her and the decoy shelter. It was nothing short of an honest-to-Rao miracle that her sudden escape hadn’t tripped any of the mines on-site, but now, it was only a matter of time.

Still hurtling away, Kara threw a glance over her shoulder just in time to see the first three drones break through the surface, already mindlessly chasing after her. Then the third and the fourth crashed right on through after them, which abruptly led to a series of rapid beeping, which abruptly led to a violent disturbance in the air that stole away all the sound from the world and knocked Kara right out of the sky.

(next part here)

#sometimes it takes me 2 years to write one sentence #other times i bang out 3k words in one sitting #so here's the first half. the second half will be pt. ii... and will there be a third part? who's to say #my words.

[tales-unique]

FAULTS OF THE HEART

Chapter 1

The woods were always a sacred place for you. When you entered their depths you felt a sense of serenity and safety that had no comparison in the civilized world. The sounds of the wind rustling through the leaves, flowing streams, and the sounds of the birds and the rabbits and the deer — all the sounds of Life. So, it felt only natural for you to go to them when running for your life. Even under the light of the full moon, dappled on the ground through dense tree cover, you knew how to navigate the trails in the undergrowth. “She’s heading into the trees!” The call echoes and forces you to push harder, to run faster, so you might live to see the sun rise.

Neither you or the others in your small village knew of the now occupied reach and how the surrounding lands had been claimed until it was too late. They waited until someone unwittingly stumbled onto the land so they could make an example of them in a show of power. He called himself The Baron. He was an asshole. In taking what had been free land for himself he had doomed your village to a slow, painful death of starvation unless they bowed to his will. There was no other alternative for the village, lest they lose everything. It was his brutish thugs that pursued you, all because you strayed too far trying to feed the people you cared for. “I can’t see her! Where’d she go?” “I don’t know! Just keep looking!” You stop, sliding down an embankment to seek cover.  Hunkering down further as you hear your pursuers coming ever closer, you force yourself tighter between the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. Mud and mulch cling to your cloak and soak your back and legs but you know that if you move now you will die. Holding your breath you freeze as one of the men stalks by where you’re hiding, narrowly missing your head when he strays too close to the edge. It feels like hours, lying there in the cold, wet earth, before you hear their voices and their steps recede until there’s only the sounds of the forest left. Even then you wait a moment longer before slowly rising to your feet, brushing yourself down with shaking hands. The Baron won’t stop pursuing you if he knows you’re nearby, so it’s with a heavy heart that you know you can’t return to the village. Your possessions, though meager and few, are lost to you. Your small home left to fall into ruin. The friends you had made will become distant memories. Bitterness settles deep within your stomach and you weep, out of anger, out of sadness, that one mistake was your undoing. It’s difficult to stop the torrent once it’s unleashed, but you know you can’t linger any longer. You should already be running far away from this place. Sniffling, you wipe frantically at your eyes and nose on tattered sleeves, continuing your escape.

The soft, building light of the rising dawn brings with it a sense of melancholic relief. You wander wearily through the trees, their figures no longer familiar now that you’re so far from home, the waking songs of birds sounding triumphantly in the air. They have survived the night, and so have you. Almost. The sharp, searing pain that erupts abruptly in your left shoulder blindsides you and you stop, the world suddenly going still. For the longest moment you forget how to breathe and your mind goes blank. A choked gasp escapes you as all at once the harsh reality of what has happened comes crashing over you like a tidal wave. At first you can’t tell exactly what is lodged in your flesh, your mind a garble rush of adrenaline, only that the pain is pointed in a single location. An apprehensive glance to your shoulder sends a chill down your spine. With a whimper you reach up with your uninjured arm to feel the sharp iron tip poking through ripped flesh, warm, fresh blood coating your fingertips, then behind to gingerly finger a long, slender body of wood. An arrow, lodged so deep in your flesh it came out the other side. Your nose crinkles as the metallic tinge in the air finally hits you, gagging from the rush of dizzying sickness that sends your stomach into freefall. Pain radiates from it, rippling outwards, rending your arm useless. The shrieks of panicked birds in the canopy overhead snaps your attention to the archer hiding among the trees, the rushing footfalls thudding against the ground betraying their path; one small mercy. You force yourself to move, crying out with the effort as you hold your arm still with a firm grip. It’s the only way to limit the damage the arrow can cause while moving, but it does nothing to stop the excruciating pain it leaves in its wake. Blood leaks between your fingers but you don’t stop, can’t stop, or else you will die at the hands of this assassin. Another arrow narrowly misses your head as you veer sharply to the side, towards the sound of running water. If you can make it to the water and lose them you might just make it. That is, if the exhaustion and blood loss don’t take you out first. Several more join the hunting party, to your dismay. You pant, your head spinning and your mind beginning to fog, but at least you don’t fall. The sight of clear water fills your vision and, to your shock, a man. He startles as you rush into view, arm veined with bright scarlet, bringing with you a band of armed men. It looks as though he’s in the middle of fishing, but that’s quickly forgotten when he sees your injury and the company that are after you. “Please!” You plead, falling to your knees before him in the dewy grass, “please don’t let them kill me!” Sharp gold eyes watch you for a moment in shocked silence before he turns to eye each man as they surround you both. They’re all pointing their weapons at him, swords and bows and arrows alike, shouting for him to leave them to their business. One of them separates to train his bow on you, likely the same man who shot you in the first place, as you clutch desperately at your bleeding wound to stem the flow. “We said be on your way, stranger!” Another one snarls to the man, “this bitch is ours.” It all happens in the blink of an eye. You barely have time to comprehend the situation before it’s already over. The man stands before you, a hovering sword at his side, and only then do you realize that he has killed them all in a single sweep without so much as raising a hand. You hazard a look at the carnage around you and instantly regret it; each man dead with his throat cut, shock petrified on their faces. Quickly you look back to the man, watching him with wide eyes as he descends upon you. He speaks not a word as he looks over your shoulder, still bleeding despite your grip on it. “P-please help me,” you beg feebly, your body feeling heavy under its own weight. The blood loss was starting to take its toll on you and, though the feeling felt oddly muted and detached, you were terrified.

The sequence of events that follows next are mostly lost to you, but not for a lack of trying. You remember fragments, haphazardly pieced together. Blurred scenery. White hot pain. The scent of burning flesh. A tightness around your shoulder. Muffled talking. You try to sit up, the edges of your vision tainted black, but a firm yet gentle hand on your chest pushes you back down into soft sheets. “Where—” Your voice quickly dies in your throat as searing pain shoots through your shoulder and down your arm, a sharp cry escaping you. It takes you a moment to recover but when you finally open your eyes you gawk at your surroundings.Your mysterious savior has brought you to a musty room filled with shelves upon shelves of books, a low, crackling fire catching your attention in the dusty fireplace. Looking down at yourself you see that you’ve been set upon an old chaise lounger, a lumpy pillow beneath your head. It smells of dust, as do the sheets, but there’s an odd sense of comfort that they, and the room as a whole, offers. “I removed the arrow,” he finally speaks, golden eyes observing you as you struggle to sit up, “you should rest, you’ve lost a lot of blood.” He moves to stand, collecting up the bloodied rags and tossing them into a bowl filled with water dyed crimson as he walks to the door to leave you in peace. It’s only as he’s leaving that you realize that he’s cleaned and bandaged your wound, no doubt saving you from infection and blood loss and the slow, painful death they would have brought you. “Wait!” You call, voice hoarse. He stops, remaining with his back to you. “I,” you swallow, breathing laboured from the effort of your outburst, “I wanted to thank you, for helping me,” you grind out, an aching throb pulsing from your shoulder down your arm. For a moment he is quiet and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake in speaking to him, but that thought soon vanishes when he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You wait in anticipation for his reply, clutching the sheets weakly. “Get some rest,” he says, softer this time, but he quickly steels himself and leaves the room without any further comment. The door is left slightly ajar so you listen to the sound of his receding footsteps before sinking back slowly into the sheets. The makeshift bed is nothing like your own but it’s more than you could have expected from a stranger so you’re thankful, heaving a sigh of relief. Then you frown, because you don’t even know his name.

#Castlevania #Castlevania Netflix #Castlevania Imagine #Castlevania Imagines #Alucard #Alucard Imagine #Alucard Imagines #Adrian Tepes #Adrian Tepes Imagine #Adrian Tepes Imagines #Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes

[veryreallyfuckinbad]

FIRE AND MOSS // Daryl Dixon X Reader// CHAPTER 2

TW: Injury, strong language.

A week has passed since you found the note, that was your guess at least. Time was difficult to keep track of. With no calendar, the only way you could keep track of how much time has passed was by monitoring your supplies. You were on your heels ever since then, after all you didn’t know the stranger’s intentions.

Jake was useful, both in keeping you sane and in tracking any edible creatures, mainly squirrels. Lately, however, you could find fewer and fewer animals. That’s the only reason you decided to venture out of your camp, which has grown- you set up a small, green tent, got a couple of logs to sit on by the fire, even installed a makeshift security system which consisted of some tripwire and empty cans that alerted you whenever someone, or something got too close to your camp. Jake was incredibly helpful with setting the tripwire up, he tangled himself in it about four times before you could tie it around the trees properly. He was also kind enough to make sure that the cans were free of any dangers, sticking his snout in them and running to you so you could take them off. You didn’t mind, though. You enjoy every second you spent with the animal, he made you laugh and feel safe- always alerting you when he sensed danger nearby. You couldn’t deny that the two of you had a special bond, the kind of bond that only two wild creatures that were both hurt by the world could have.

The lack of supplies caused you to venture out of the “safety” of your camp. You didn’t want to stray far, so you decided to check a lone cabin that stood in a clearing, between the trees, about three miles from your camp. You had found it while tracking a buck with Jake but decided to come back to it later, as not to lose your prey[J1] [J2] [J3] .

You walked on the moss-covered forest floor with Jake trotting by your side, glancing up at you from time to time. Every time you stepped on a stray twig, the snapping noise would cause him to growl and look at you, giving you a warning before he realized that you weren’t in any danger. All you could hear, apart from Jake’s occasional panting was the beautiful, almost calming chirping of birds. You chuckled to yourself when you remembered the first time you heard a woodpecker hitting the willow you were set up under with his beak- you almost pissed yourself. It was unexpected to say the least.

You reached the cabin, taking in the disturbingly tranquil sight. It was wooden and old, some mushrooms grew on the half-collapsed roof and you could see ferns and twigs growing through the broken windows.

“Alright,” you kneeled down and gave Jake a pat between his ears “now, we need to be careful. Some could be trapped inside” you smiled at your companion and stood up.

Slowly and quietly, you made your way to the cabin door and unsheathed your knife. You gave Jake a signal to stay down, knowing that he would understand- you did this with him before. He understood you and your signals well.

You quickly opened the door, making it hit the wall. You sighed with relief as you saw that no walkers were inside- at least none of them were in the main room. You looked around- broken glass littered the wooden floor, greenery grew out of cracks in the floor. You still had to check the bathroom, so you motioned for Jake to enter. He trotted around the cabin and sniffed everything he could, finally stopping by what you presumed to be the bathroom door. He began snarling and you noticed him tense, fur standing up.

You stood in front of him and quietly praised him while getting ready to take down the walker locked inside. You burst the door open and to your surprise, you weren’t met with any growls or hands trying to claw at you- all you found was a broken mirror and an empty cabinet. Your only complaint about the bathroom, beside it being clear of supplies, was the horrible stench of something rotting, but you couldn’t pinpoint the source of the smell. Then it hit you. The shower. The glass surrounding it was so dirty and smeared with things that you would rather not think about that you didn’t see the walker inside. You quickly swung the glass door open, dead hands and teeth instantly trying to get you. Before you could take it down, however, you felt your foot slip on a puddle of some kind of liquid filth, maybe caused by the humidity of the room.

You fell backwards and wrestled the walker off yourself, trying to push Jake away to protect him. The fox was stubborn though, biting into its neck in an attempt to get it off you. While Jake distracted it, you crawled out of the bathroom, backwards. Calling your companion over to you, he immediately let go of the dead man and ran up behind you- thankfully unharmed.

Before you could catch your breath, you were tackled to the ground once again. This time, though, you felt a sharp, splitting pain, worse than anything you’ve felt in your life. The broken glass dug into your back and the back of your thighs, impaling one of them. Despite the pain, you didn’t give into the walker and with the last of your strength, picked up a sharp shard of broken glass from beside you and plunged it into the walker’s skull, causing it to go limp and fall on top of you- pushing the broken glass even deeper into your back and thighs.

You put your hand over your mouth, trying to suppress the blood curdling scream that was slowly forming in your throat. You managed to push the walker off yourself and tried to stand up, but couldn’t. Jake ran up to your side and whimpered, he didn’t know what to do. He nudged your hand with his head which made you relax a little, it was comforting. He suddenly jolted up and began pulling you by your sleeve, wanting you to get up. You complied, but it was awfully painful.

“Okay” you panted, “I’m okay” you weren’t sure whether you tried to reassure him or yourself.

“Let’s just get out of here, please” you choked out between whimpers and examined your thigh. A huge shard of glass was stuck in it, you wouldn’t be able to walk properly. Knowing that pulling it out would make you bleed out, you ripped off your sleeves and began tying them around the shard in an attempt to stabilize it. You could feel the warm blood trickling down your back, it was a strange feeling. You were quickly becoming dizzy- you were losing too much blood. Shaking your head to remain conscious, you stood up slowly, grabbing onto a table for support. Jake wagged his tail when he saw you get up.

Your head was spinning, you were unsure of which way your camp was. Everything was blurred and cloudy. You knew that if you didn’t find any form of help, and soon, you were a dead girl walking. You pulled out your arm to grab onto a tree, stumbling in the process. All you could do was walk forward. Jake never left your side, nudging you whenever you fell down, even allowing you to lean against him while standing up.

“Just go, please” you breathed shakily, “I don’t need you to get hurt if something happens to me” was all you could say before Jake’s ears went back, he gave your hand a quick lick before he took off. You knew that he didn’t want to go, but you were also aware that if he stayed near you, you could eventually become a danger to him. You kept walking forward, with no destination in mind. You just wanted to sit down and close your eyes for a moment. You shook your head, thinking about everything that has happened to you so far.

Jake, your previous group, they would all want you to keep going. Fox Jake, too.

“Come on” you encouraged yourself “You can goddamn do it”

You stumbled when you saw Jake come running back, squeaking and tail wagging. Even in your desperate state, you couldn’t help the smile that crept upon your face. He came back for you for some reason. You wanted him to go and wanted him to stay at the same time. He gently grabbed your wrist with his teeth, making sure not to hurt you. He pulled you in a different direction and let go, trotting to where he was trying to lead you and coming back again in an attempt to get you to follow him. You did just that.

You squinted your eyes, trying to shield them from the light when you saw an opening in the trees. It was a clearing. But as soon as your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw it- a giant, beautiful mansion with farmland, a barn, hay bales, even a chicken coop. A path made out of pebbles led to the house but you didn’t dare step out of the shade offered by the trees. For a minute you were sure that you were dead. Places like this didn’t exist anymore.

You felt Jake’s teeth on your wrist again, even gentler than before. He nudged you to come out of the forest and into the field. You trusted him, so you did.

Everything was blurry, you were stumbling and couldn’t walk in a straight line. You could hear distant shouting but it was muffled and unclear, you couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Out of nowhere, you were surrounded by strangers. They held you at gunpoint but as soon as they saw you looking at them with life in your eyes, they lowered their guns a little. They asked you questions, but you weren’t exactly able to make out their exact words.

“I’m…hurt” was all you could say before a jolt of adrenaline shot through you when you felt a bullet whiz right past your head, barely missing it. It was shot from the roof of some sort of big car but you didn’t have the chance to take a closer look before you noticed another man run up to you.

Jake growled at all the people, standing in front of you and snarling, showing off his sharp teeth. He was protecting you.

“You fuckin’ idiots! Lower yer guns and help ‘er!” A man yelled, his voice was strange. Gravelly.

You weren’t able to make out more of his yelling when you collapsed. The last thing you felt was Jake’s wet nose nudging your hand and the warm grass beneath your face.

Your eyes fluttered open. You had no idea where you were and no memory of how you got here. You were laying on something soft- were you in an actual bed? You looked around and sure enough, you were covered with white sheets, a pinkish pillow under your head. You sighed with relief when you felt Jake’s warm body pressed against your side, stroking his fur. He looked like a flame again, against the white bedsheets. You noticed his dirty pawprints all over the bed, suggesting he was trying to walk around you, maybe wake you up or lick your face.

“Where are we?” you whispered under your breath, causing Jake’s head to jolt up. He sat up on the bed and looked at you, his tail wagging happily.

“At a farm. Ya were really beaten up”

You jumped up. You didn’t notice the man sitting in a corner, leaning against the wall in the shadows. You were, to put it simply, shitting your pants. You were in a strange place with strange people, in no shape to move, much less run if you had to.

“Who..? I’m sorry I’m-“ you choked on your words, unable to speak. You still felt dizzy, but you were better. The horrible pain in your back and thigh was still present, causing you to hiss before you could finish your sentence.

“Yer alright. Ya wandered into our farm all cut up” he explained, but it didn’t relax you at all.

“Why would you help me?” You said and instantly regretted it, as the man stood up, allowing you to take a better look at him. He had short, dark hair and a crossbow attached to his back. He wore a dark leather vest with no sleeves. He was much, much bigger than you. You guessed that if he wanted to, he could kill you with his bare hands. But he didn’t.

He took a chair that was sitting in a corner and flopped down on it with absolutely zero grace. You noticed him stare you down as if trying to figure out what to say.

“Recognized the fox”

#the walking dead daryl #daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl imagines

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: hey y'all. my new job has been draining the life out of me so i have very little energy left for writing, which is why these updates are taking so long. im still very passionate about this fic though, it just takes me more time to write :(

in other news, this chapter is saturated with descriptions of pain, both physical and emotional. i hated writing it but it was worth it.

***

Nesta, 14

Sometimes it all becomes too much. Feyre asking for help with homework and Elain begging for more money to go to the strip mall, and their dad ignoring them all as if they aren’t even there. Sometimes she wants to leave it all behind and pretend she isn’t anchored to three other people, wants to pretend she is a lone being in a lonely world.

When she needs to go away, she comes here.

Cherrywood House is quiet, as it always is this time of year. One of several expensive vacation homes in the Smokies, Cherrywood is Nesta’s favorite for a multitude of reasons— it’s empty for ten out of twelve months of the year, it’s the only house with a clear view of the nearby lake, and cherry blossoms bloom on trees out in the back every spring.

It’s early June, and she has a few more weeks left with the house until its owners return. The family that owns the place never leaves a trace of themselves behind when they leave each August, so Nesta returns the favor by never leaving hints of her inhabitance either.

She takes her worn Converse and socks off at the back porch and climbs in through the unlocked window barefoot. This is where she belongs. A ghost roaming the empty halls, with no one to care for and no one to care for her.

She makes her way upstairs to her preferred hideout spot: an airy bedroom with a bay window seat that looks out onto the cherry blossom trees outside. Cracking the window open to let the fragrance of flowers in, she settles into the bench seat with her book of the week and starts reading.

Absorbed in dreams of deep love and deeper kisses, Nesta doesn't notice the sun going down until she can barely make out the words on the page before her. Glancing up with sore eyes, she realizes she needs to leave soon if she doesn't want to take the wooded path back home in the dark.

“Damn,” she sighs, but she gets up and shuts the window firmly.

She keeps her nose in her book all the way down the hall and down the stairs, and doesn't sense anything off until a large shadow flashes in the corner of her eye. Her head whips up, and the face that greets her looks just as surprised as she is.

Nesta freezes.

“Um,” the guy says. He’s maybe a few years older than her, seventeen or eighteen, and tall with shaggy dark hair. The front door of the house is still cracked open behind him. “What the fuck?”

Nesta unfreezes. And then she runs.

All the way through the main hall and to the back door, while the boy’s shouts chase her through the house. “Hey, wait up!”

They weren't supposed to be here this early—

Her hand wraps around the back door handle and she flings it open, shoving through the second screen door and shooting right down the porch steps. Heavy steps behind her ignite a panic in her, and she gains a burst of speed.

“HEY!” he calls again. Soft grass becomes dirt and twigs beneath Nesta's feet, and she knows she's reached the tree line. Dark shadows fall over her as she darts into the safety of the woods.

Still standing on the back porch and waving a raggedy pair of Converse, Cassian tries calling for the girl one more time. “You forgot your shoes!”

Cassian wakes up at five in the morning to the sound of the house’s pipes creaking, a telltale sign that someone is using one of the faucets. Blinking his eyes open, he hears the distant sound of the shower running.

Who would get up in the freezing cold at this hour just to take a shower? He checks the time once more to make sure he isn't imagining things, and gets up to peek his head out of his bedroom. Sure enough, light leaks out from under the bathroom door.

Cassian walks up to the bathroom and listens closely for any sound beside running water. He knocks hesitantly. “Nesta?”

Her muffled voice calls back to him, but he can't make out a thing.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “How long have you been in there?”

There’s no response, and now he’s concerned. Raising his voice, he says, “I’m going to come in to hear you better, is that okay?”

A soft affirmative answers him, and he tries the doorknob. It’s already unlocked, which is odd, but he pokes his head into the steam-filled bathroom cautiously. “Nesta?”

From behind the curtain of the shower, a pale, tired face appears. She’s sitting on the floor of the tub, he realizes. “Hey,” she attempts a feeble smile at him.

Cassian fully enters the bathroom, the humidity dampening his skin. “Are you okay? When did you get up?”

“I’ve only been in here for an hour, maybe.” Her voice is weak enough that he has to move closer to hear her. “Don’t worry about your water bill. I’ll pay it, I swear.”

He shakes his head, confounded. “I don’t care about the water bill. You still haven’t told me if you’re okay.” He moves to crouch beside the bathtub, the opaque shower curtain the only barrier between them.

Nesta rolls her eyes, looking embarrassed. “It’s just cramps. I get really sick on my periods, and I would have warned you that they suck ass, but that would imply that my period could affect you. It doesn’t have to affect you— if you just leave me to myself for a few days, I won’t even be a bother.”

Cassian blinks, not really knowing where to start with that, so he just says, “But why the shower?”

Nesta shifts uncomfortably behind the curtain. “Sometimes hot water is the only thing that helps with the pain. I already tried getting out of the shower, but it hurt so bad— I had to go right back in. I’ll get out eventually, don’t worry.”

Cassian frowns. This all sounds incredibly worrying. “This is normal for you?”

She’s about to answer when her face pinches in a look of discomfort. “Cassian,” she says, strained.

He leans closer, wanting to help. “Yeah?”

“Get out.” She doesn't look like she has the energy to add anything else.

Cassian wants to defy Nesta and stay right there, but that would require arguing with her, and she clearly is no longer in the mood to hold up a conversation.

Reluctantly, he nods. “I’ll be right down the hall. Yell if you need anything.”

Nesta is already sinking lower into the tub, trying to get more fully under the burning hot spray. Her eyes drift closed and she hums in answer.

Cassian doesn't return to his room like he said he would, but heads downstairs instead. He spends a good ten minutes reading the drug labels of various painkillers from the medicine cabinet before carefully arranging a nonlethal cocktail of them on a tray. He adds a cold glass of water and various handpicked snacks before returning upstairs to set the tray by Nesta’s bedside, and turns the heat all the way up to combat the chill in her room, just in case.

Then he goes back to his room and waits. He tries to listen closely for the sound of the shower stopping, but he’s not used to being up this early on a Saturday, and his bed is so warm…

He falls asleep waiting.

***

Nesta stumbles out of the shower long after Cassian leaves her and downs a handful of pills without thinking too much about who left them for her. She already has an idea of how the next few days will go, and she just hopes Cassian will allow her the dignity to suffer through it alone.

She crawls into bed exhausted and shuts her eyes tight. The next time she opens them, sunlight is streaming weakly through the windows. Jarring pain lances through her abdomen, and she brings her legs all the way up to her chest and whimpers. From the edge of her consciousness, she notices the snack tray has been replaced with lunch— some leftover lasagna from the night before. Sneaking out her hand from her mountain of blankets, she goes for her phone. A text sent nearly an hour ago waits for her.

Cassian: please eat.

Nesta glares at the lasagna because she knows better. She might have spent this morning eyeing the bathroom tiles to determine if they were clean enough for her to curl up there and die, but she's not at a point to abandon her dignity just yet. The last thing her roiling nausea needs is solid food. Instead, she gathers the focus to text back Cassian: Leave me alone today.

It's only after she sends the message that she realizes it sounds harsh, but she can't bring herself to explain further or to soften her tone. Her pain always has a way of stripping her of any defenses and formalities and leaving only a primal creature behind.

Turning her phone off, she closes her eyes and inhales tightly through her nose. A wave of cramps that feels closer to what a brutal stabbing victim would feel like overtakes her, and— no, she has to get up.

During times like these, the bathroom is Nesta’s favorite place in the whole world. Cool tiles to rest her head on, hot water just a foot away, and a spacious tub if she ever feels like passing out. Heaven. Naturally, she escapes there first.

After maybe another hour of restless writhing and moving about, Nesta decides the suffering isn't worth it and hobbles downstairs in search of some Nyquil to knock her out. She’s got the medicine cabinet halfway open when a broad hand slams it back shut, and she turns to find Cassian standing behind her with a stern look. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. You can’t take meds on an empty stomach.”

Nesta wants to cry at the denial of pain relief, but she grips the counter behind her and manages a glare instead. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I will absolutely tell you not to wreck your liver, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

A desperate whine escapes her, and she can’t believe Cassian has to see her like this. Even worse, she sees sympathy soften his face as his hand slips off the cabinet next to her head. “I made soup,” he offers. “Can you have soup?”

Nesta hesitates. Her insides don’t hate the idea of soup. She nods.

***

Nesta insisted on avoiding Cassian for the rest of the day, and Cassian graciously eased off her back once he knew she’d eaten. He kindly pretended he didn’t hear her running back and forth from the bathroom all day because she couldn’t sit still, and only interrupted her once to make sure she took more Tylenol before bed.

Now, long after night has fallen, Nesta is truly alone. Her medicine either hasn’t kicked in yet or isn’t strong enough to do its job tonight. She can barely think straight, and this is when the most primal part of herself comes out.

Despite her age, despite everything, she still cries. She cries as if anyone would bother listening, physical pain intertwining with the pain and humiliation of being ignored. “Papa,” she calls into her pillow, again and again.

She hasn’t trusted her papa in years, and yet she still expects him to rescue her. She still waits for him to show up and make everything better.

A hot tear leaks from her eye, and the catharsis of it distracts from her cramps. She curls up into a ball and cries harder, as if she can weep out everything that’s wrong with her body.

A soft knock interrupts her helpless whimpers, and Nesta hears the door open a moment later. “Nesta? Were you calling for me?”

Somebody came. No one’s ever come for her before.

A sigh of relief escapes her, and she forgets to put her walls up. “I’m just—” she tries to say, “so tired.”

She hears Cassian come farther into the room and curse. “Fuck, it’s an icebox in here.”

A hand nudges at her mound of comforters, giving Nesta’s shoulder a shake. “You should’ve told me the heater wasn’t working. Are you okay?”

That question sets her on edge. “Do I look okay?” her voice cracks. She wants to cry even harder now that he’s here, for some reason.

“Obviously not,” he mutters. “You’re staying in my room tonight. Get up.”

Nesta groans and burrows further into her freezing cocoon of sheets. “Don’twannamove.”

“It’s either that or I’m carrying you. I’m good either way.”

Nesta finally cracks her eyes open, glad that Cassian is only a tear-blurred figure in the dark. She doesn’t want to read whatever is on his face right now. Gathering her heavy comforter around herself, she gets up and lets Cassian lead her down the hall to his room.

Toasty warmth hits her as soon as she’s inside, and she makes an exhausted sound and drops the comforter. In a blur, she’s tucked into Cassian’s bed, enveloped by his scent and his lingering body heat on the sheets. Under the dim lamplight, Cassian seems to finally take notice of the tear tracks on her face. Clicking his tongue in sympathy and concern, he rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin under Nesta’s eyes. Her whole body shudders under the gentle touch. Who knew just the pad of his finger could combat this inescapable agony?

“This isn’t normal,” he murmurs. “I’m taking you to a doctor as soon as this storm clears.”

If Nesta was in the right state of mind, she’d tell him absolutely not. However, she’s barely comprehending his words as it is, so she watches him click the lamp off in silence. Darkness fills the room, but she can hear him moving.

“I’ll be right back,” his voice rumbles, and then she’s alone again. More tears leak at the feeling of abandonment. She’s so sick of herself.

After what feels like an eternity but is only a few minutes, she hears Cassian return. The mattress dips behind her as he climbs under the blankets with her, and then Nesta feels something hot and dry being pressed to her side. A towel. “Does this help?” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly close to her ear.

Wordlessly, Nesta reaches down and takes his hand holding the hot towel, dragging it beneath the hem of her sweater so the heat burns against her bare skin. She sighs and allows her tensed body to sag, leaning back into the hard cradle of Cassian’s chest and arms.

In her ear, Cassian’s breathing has gone shallow. His hand slips from her side, only to find her back and start rubbing up and down.

Her eyes flutter shut.

“My mother was a Muslim immigrant from Algeria,” Cassian whispers out of nowhere. “And whenever I felt sick as a little kid, I would crawl into her lap and she would rub my back just like this, and say some prayers and blow on my face, and I would feel better.”

Nesta makes a weak sound of acknowledgment. That sounds nice, nicer than anything she ever knew growing up.

“I’m sorry I don’t know any prayers,” Cassian says. Then, Nesta feels a whoosh of breath tickle the side of her face. “Does that help?”

It feels weirdly good, and Nesta's shoulders start shaking. She doesn't know if she's holding in a laugh or a sob. Cassian’s hand stills on her back. “Nesta?”

A sharp wave of pain sets her straight. After she breathes through it, she tells him, “You don't need to pray. Just… keep talking to me.”

His hand resumes drawing circles on her back. “Alright.” And he whispers stories into her ear for the rest of the night, until she's fallen asleep and long afterward.

The next morning, Nesta is feeling much better. Cassian knows this because she’s sitting in the living room when he comes downstairs, straight-backed instead of hunched over in pain, and she’s regained the energy to glare at him.

Cassian’s relief at seeing Nesta okay hesitates at that glare. He slows on the bottom step. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Don't call me that.”

He blinks, not sure what he did wrong. Before he can ask, Nesta says, “You didn't listen to me.”

“Excuse me?” He strolls deeper into the living area.

“I told you to leave me alone while I'm on my period, and you didn't listen. You dragged me to your room and made me spend the night with you.”

“You were crying for help,” Cassian says in disbelief. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?”

“Yes.” She looks even angrier. “It’s humiliating for me to have you see me like that. It's humiliating to have my own family see me like that.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re—” He almost says overreacting, but some deep instinct tells him that word won’t fly well with Nesta. “You’re wrong,” he decides. “Whatever you think I’m thinking of you after last night, you’re wrong.” Cassian has no problem going into caretaker mode for Nesta; it's his natural state of being most of the time anyway. Besides, last night was… a new experience for him. For a multitude of reasons. “You can't tell me you go through that every month and have never had anybody take care of you.”

“I haven't, and for good reason,” Nesta seethes. “You had no right to see me like that.”

Cassian leans on the arm of a chair and crosses his arms, considering her. “Have you ever seen a doctor about your period?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps. Here is the Nesta that Feyre is always talking about: quick to anger and always on the defense, to the point that she comes off as unreasonable. Nothing like the helpless woman in tears from just the night before.

It brings out a rougher side of Cassian, one that wants to nip and bite at her boundaries instead of letting her be comfortable all the time. “That’s no way to talk to someone who stayed up all night to wait on you hand and foot, you know.”

“Don’t you dare hold that against me.” Nesta’s voice is dangerously cold.

“I’m not holding it against you. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“No.”

“I already made an appointment.”

“Cancel it.” Her voice is brittle and she’s now trembling with restrained rage. Cassian doesn’t know if it’s because he’s refusing to give her a choice or if she just really doesn’t like doctors. Either way, it doesn’t change how Nesta ran out of bed at four this morning to puke her soup up. If it wasn’t for all this snow, he would have dragged her ass to the ER by now.

“I don’t have health insurance,” Nesta admits when she sees that Cassian won’t back down. “And I’ve made it this far without any cause for concern; there’s no reason to go.”

“Then I’ll pay for it,” he says simply. Her lack of care for her health astounds and angers Cassian at the same time. How is it that nobody, not even her family, has looked at this woman before and said You’re not okay, do you need help? How many times has she cried in pain with no one to listen?

Nesta has now stood up and is turning red in the face. “Absolutely not. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Cassian smirks and straightens up.

“I’m not going to the doctor,” she barks. “Cancel the appointment.”

“No.”

“DO IT!”

In that moment, Cassian sees it. He sees how beneath the adult manner and adult words, the carefully crafted facade of cool, there is an explosive, tantrum-prone child. And he’s about to reveal her for good.

“It’s this Wednesday. I hope you don't mind skipping class.”

An enraged shriek shatters the air in the room, and before Cassian can even be shocked Nesta is verbally pouncing on him, yelling, “How fucking dare you, you complete shithead—”

“Nesta.”

“You have no right to— You’re so useless, this is why I didn't want to stay with you, this is why I never talked to you—”

“Nest—”

“You egomaniacal manipulative bastard— just because you let me stay in your house doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do—”

“Damn it Nesta, can you just shut up and LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!”

Nesta freezes and blinks, taken aback. Cassian immediately snaps his mouth shut, wondering if he’s finally crossed that line he’s been so cautiously toeing this whole time.

He watches her face closely, looking for signs of upset— or worse, fear. She only says, “Fine.”

He’s confused. “Fine, what?”

“Fine, I’ll go to the doctor’s.” Just like that, her fight is gone and the facade is back in place. She sets her jaw, but a hint of surprise and newfound discovery lingers in her eyes. “But I’m not letting you pay for it. It’ll have to come out of my own pocket.” She doesn't look happy about that part.

Cassian wants to argue her, but he knows how to pick and choose his battles. For now, he’s just baffled that he demanded Nesta to do something, and she listened.

He raised his voice at her. God, he yelled at her in anger and she only blinked in response, and now she’s listening to him. What kind of sick alien shit is this?

***

a/n: i love talking about these characters so if you ever get sick of waiting for part 5 just shoot me an ask and ill gladly discuss nessian with you

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx

#a favor #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #ncssianwrites #nessian fic #nessian au

[sckyie]

song: streetcar by daniel caesar

word count: 2.6k

genre + warnings: angst to fluff; reminiscing in past heartbreak, breakdowns, timeskips, swearing, someone gets slapped

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: here's part 2 to driver's license,, i hope this was okay >~< i had to include a new song to the mix (its going into the playlist) soooo enjoy :) also my ratio for angst to fluff is TERRIBLE im sorry

Ever since you had confessed your feelings to your best friend, you had became so distant from everyone. Knowing you might've ruined one of the best friendships shook you. Lately you'd been driving around past curfew just to keep your mind off him. Passing all the street lights just felt like you were driving down memories. 

That flickering light at the corner where Oikawa had helped you after crashing your bike into a pole. Or that bright cool light by the park where you, Iwa, and Oikawa first started playing volleyball. Or that one littered with stickers where you told both the boys that they better remember you when they were famous. 

Apathy overcame your entire being. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, who knew heartbreak could have this effect on a person? It was hard going to school, avoiding Oikawa in every hall, dodging Iwaizumi on your way out, and even trying to ignore Kasumi was too much. It hurt like hell but you didn't want to know what Oikawa had to say. More so, you didn't want to hear what he was going to say, you knew what he'd tell you.

Two months until graduation.

It had been a over a month since that confession. The bright girl everyone used to know dulled out. No one knew why nor how it happened. It only stung between you and the boy you knew you could never love. Oikawa and Kasumi remained together despite the lingering thought of those words you said to him. 

"I- You- Ugh! Just go away, I don't want to see you!" The crack in your voice shook those hidden feelings within you.

"Why not!" Oikawa held onto your forearm, restricting you from running away.

"Because I fucking loved you idiot!" You screamed as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. Oikawa froze at your words, unable to process them.

"You...loved me?" He asked.

"I still fucking love you! God, I hate you- I just- Let go!" You shoved him away from you. "I'm leaving. If you try to stop me, I'm never speaking to you again."

Yet, you never spoke to him regardless. The sudden break between you two effected Iwaizumi as well. Although he had no part in the situation, he was torn who's side to take. He knew your secret but he couldn't betray both his best friends. Seeing you two spilt was like watching glass break. It's sudden, scattered, irreplaceable but if you tried to fix it, you could cut yourself or ruin the glass even more.

Oikawa took your last words as your goodbye. What was worse was that, he couldn't bring himself to find the right words to say to you. How could his best friend love him and never tell him? He never did end up telling Kasumi that he loved her. He began to question his feelings about her and well, you. 

One more month until graduation.

"Hey Y/n, are you going to the third year dance?" Hanamaki taps your shoulder as you doodle on your notes. You shook your head, knowing well enough how you'd have to see Oikawa and Kasumi together. "Come on, we're all going."

"No thanks," You smiled. A sudden ache in your chest hit you as you looked back at your notes. "I don't like dances."

"Liar," Matsukawa joins into the conversation. "What happened to you?"

"Hm?" You looked up, tilting your head at him.

"Just come along, we'll drive," He suggests. "You don't need a date. Just tag along with he boys and Kasumi."

"Again no thanks," You turned him down. "I'm not on good terms with Oikawa right now. I don't want to see him."

"Well, then let's all four go together then. Me, you, Mattsun, and Iwa," Makki says. "We lowkey miss having you around."

"Yeah, come on, we don't have to go with them," Matsukawa agreed.

"Promise we won't hang around them?" You ask solemnly. They nod at you, prompting you to let out a long sigh. "Fine. I don't have a dress, do you guys want to come with to find one?" 

Two weeks until graduation.

You stood in line with the three boys to get inside the ballroom for the dance. You carefully adjusted Matsukawa's corsage that matched your dress. Kasumi and Oikawa had came later, waiting farther back in line. He rests his hand on her waist as he examined the people in line when he spots you. This was the first time in forever since he could see you clearly. He had only caught glimpses of you through the halls, never seeing your face.

Was that the reason the guys didn't want to ride with him? For you? It hit a bit knowing they chose you over him but he knew how you haven't hung out with anyone lately. Always avoiding people, never trying to talk to anyone. 

Inside the ballroom, you and the boys sat together at your assigned table. The songs seemed redundant, leaving you four to occasionally get up to dance. It wasn't until a slow song that caught your attention. You had your head leaning against Iwaizumi's shoulder when you spotted Oikawa and Kasumi walking center stage.

"I'm gonna go outside for some fresh air," You say, standing up. You adjusted your dress before walking away to the outside patio. The muffled sound of the slow song was heard as you rested your arms on the railing. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of the streets nearby. It was hard to drown out the feelings of Oikawa after seeing him with Kasumi. You feel the pain well up, trying your best to resist crying.

You open your eyes as you feel something being placed on your shoulders. "You'll get sick out here," Iwaizumi says, standing beside you. "You're thinking of him aren't you?"

"Can we not talk about him?" You breathed, tears slowly rolling down your face. "I just don't want to think about how bad I fucked up."

"Well," Iwaizumi looked down at the ground. "Will you dance with me?" You turned to see him holding out his hand for you. Taking his offer, Iwa holds you close as the music played. He let you cry in his arms, knowing well enough that you needed this. Having held all your pain behind driving, you couldn't show how much you were in pain. 

"Thank you Iwa," You sniffled into his chest. 

"I'm always here for you," He smiled. "You're like a little sister to me...It pains me to see you all dull and hurt...When Makki asked you to come out with us, I didn't expect you to agree but I'm glad you did." 

"Can I tell you something?" You panted for air through your tears.

Oikawa held Kasumi close, carefully swaying back and forth together. With her head resting on his chest, he was able to see through the patio window. He spots you and Iwaizumi dancing but for some reason it stung in his chest to see that. Why is he hurt? He's with Kasumi and he loves her, right?

Graduation day.

A group of cheers goes around the ceremony as your final day in high school is finally over. You greet your old classmates one more time, saving your close friends for last. For some reason, all the pain you previously carried had faded away. You approach the gate to meet with your friends for the last time before you go off your separate paths. Makki and Mattsun agreed to text you more to keep up with each other.

Iwaizumi had hugged you once last time, telling you to do your best. You smiled for the first time in a while. It was strange but Iwa was glad to see you starting to move on. You and him agreed to update each other on your mental healths and to hang out whenever you'd visit. Then it was the one you dreaded.

Saying goodbye to Oikawa, it'll be the last time you'll see him. You waited patiently for him as he was caught up by some fans and Kasumi. When he did manage to leave the underclassmen, he spotted you waiting. "Hey babe, can you go on ahead? I want to talk to Y/n," He says to his girlfriend. She nods happily, walking by you as she left. 

"Hey," He stops a few feet away from you, scared to step any closer.

"Hi," You said. "I have a few words for you." You let out a small chuckle, leading him to believe it was something good.

"Good or bad?" He laughed.

"Well," You started. "I just wanted to say goodbye for the last time...It was nice being your friend and I know how rough it turned out in the end...I'm sorry for not telling you before how I felt. I just thought I wasn't good enough for you and that you'd fall for someone else. Kasumi is a great girl and you two are amazing together...I really wish you guys the best...I know you'll do outstanding in volleyball like the king you are. You better not forget us when you're famous..Listen, I have to go before I'm late, so this is...it...Goodbye Tooru." You wiped a tear from your cheek, smiling at him. You quickly turned around, disappearing into the city. 

"Wait! Y/n!" He rushes after you, only to get lost in the crowd of third years saying their goodbyes. Oikawa felt tears well up in his eyes as he desperately looked around for you. "You didn't let me say..." He whispered to himself.

A week later, Oikawa and Iwaizumi join each other to lunch at your favorite restaurant. Iwa scrolls on his phone waiting for the food while Oikawa looked at the booth you two would always get. "Hey Iwa-chan?" He asks. "Do you know where Y/n decided to go after graduation?" Iwaizumi stopped scrolling to think back at the third year dance.

"Can I tell you something?" You panted for air through your tears.

"Anything," Iwa replied.

"I'm moving away from Miyagi immediately after graduation," You sniffled. "Remember when we were kids and we said we wanted to live in Tokyo or Kyoto?"

"Y-yeah," He was a little shaken up hearing that you'll be leaving so soon. 

"My uncle just moved to Kyoto and he offer me a room there...and I said yes," You started to trace circles on his back. "It's by that college I wanted to go to and they have good jobs there and-"

"You don't have to explain yourself. You'll do amazing out there," Iwa chuckled. "Just promise you'll visit sometime?" He knew how much you needed to be away from Miyagi. Although it pained him, he knew it was only for the best.

"No," Iwa lied. "I haven't seen her. She hasn't texted in a while.

Three months after graduation.

You got into a cab on your way to your new job at a café. You stared out the window, admiring the new city you live in. Learning to adjust and work around the city was tough. The feeling of calling Kyoto home was strange, knowing that it wasn't. 

Ever since you had said goodbye to Oikawa, things in his life changed. He believed losing you wasn't fair, not knowing where you'd gone always haunted him. He had broken up with Kasumi over the guilt held over his head. Always thinking about you when he was with her wasn't right. With you being gone, his only priority became volleyball. 

You however, had let go of those old feelings you held onto. That last goodbye satisfied you, letting you sleep at night and allowed you to love yourself more. You've grown so much from dull slump you were stuck in for weeks. Though living in a different environment made it feel like you weren't even there.

Oikawa roamed the streets slowly approaching different shops along the sidewalk. He had some free time before the practice match he had, so it wouldn't hurt to explore, right?

That's when it happened.

You closed the door to your cab, turning towards the café's direction. Your eyes lock onto a set of familiar pupils. Frozen in time, the two of you never exchanged a word yet, suddenly a rush of emotions filled you both.

Pain, anger, fear, regret, almost everything you felt in the past came back to you seeing him. Standing before you, the man you once loved. The man you might still love.

You snapped out of your thoughts, walking towards him, stopping a few feet away from him. "Y/n what-" You raised your hand, harshly impacting Oikawa's cheek. His hand flies up to his face, holding the spot you smacked.

"You seriously broke up with Kasumi for me?" You growled. "Y-you're an idiot y'know? She was good to you too! Also ignoring Iwa for volleyball? I told you not to-"

"You kept track of me?" He whispered, a slight smile creeping on his face.

"W-Well obviously! I ask Iwa about you from time to time," You muttered. You looked up to Oikawa and saw him grin down at you.

Before you could say anything else, Oikawa puts his two hands on the sides of your cheeks. He pulls your face close to his, crashing his lips against yours. You tense at the action, gripping his wrists. He doesn't pull away until you settle into the kiss.

Your hands melt away from his wrists and reach for his torso. Your lips moved together in sync, almost as if it were a familiar feeling. He pulls away from you, pressing his forehead against yours. "You never let me say my goodbye," Oikawa snickered. "You said goodbye to me then disappeared without a trace."

"Sorry," You blushed. His hands move to your waist, still holding you close to him.

"I wanted to tell you that..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I love you too. I'm sorry I'm so late in telling you and I'm sorry for being caught up with Kasumi. I didn't know what I was doing and I couldn't talk to you...I fucked up for not seeing how much you- well how much I loved you...I know this is all late and you probably don't want to hear any of this but-"

You tiptoed and kissed his nose, making him stop. "How'd you find out you loved me?" You looked at him curiously.

"I was driving down your street and all the old streets we'd walk through," He started. "It reminded me of you and then I saw that white streetcar. The one that is always parked by the laundromat? It made me realize how much you meant to me."

"Seriously? That old junk car?" You laughed.

"Hey, it reminded me of you okay, just seeing it whenever we hungout and passed it," Oikawa squeezed your hip, making you chuckle at him. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Your laughter ceases as you look up at him. "I had to learn how to drive on the highway on my own, jerk," You brought up.

"Is that a yes?" He smirked.

"...No...Maybe," You squinted your eyes at him. "You owe me ramen."

"Wait how'd you know how I've been these last few months?" Oikawa pulls away from your hold.

"Oh Iwa was the first to know I was moving, I asked him to check on you every now and then. I just wanted to make sure your pretty face doesn't do anything stupid. You did by the way, you did some stupid shit," You grinned. "Hey are you hungry? I can get you something from the café for free." You turned away from him, heading to your job.

"Hey you can't just insult me then leave, come here," He runs after you stopping you a few steps away from work. Oikawa plants a rough kiss on your lips before looking down at you. "The only stupid thing I did was not tell you I loved you sooner."

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @d0llpie @elianetsantana @joy-laufeyson @kac-chowsballs

#haikyuu!! #hq #haikyuu x you #hq x you #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa torū #oikawa tooru #oikawa x you #oikawa imagine #oikawa angst #hss; sckyie playlist

[milks-writings]

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ ｡⋆♡° ✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ ｡⋆♡° ✫

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ PAIRING: Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem!Reader; Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader; Kei Tsukishima x Fem!Reader

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ REQUEST: YOU ABSOLUTE LEGEND how about mutual pining! fluff with iwaizumi, tsukki and/or kenma? fem!reader? Maybe something like always being very touchy with each other and one night when hanging out it just leads to a confession or a... kissy kiss kiss... only if you want to though! i hope you are doing good and are comfortable with this babes<33

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ WARNINGS: sweARING, mention of death in iwas part, nsfw joke in tsukkis but not too bad

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ A/N: FRIGGING HECK YES YES YES YES YES YES YES I: SIMP FUCK Also I somehow forgot about what the request was and kinda did it different aoisdflx :( If you don’t like it I will be willing to rewrite it honey <3

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ Masterlist

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ Scenario: Confessing after long pining

Hajime Iwaizumi

Toxic small ballerinas were dancing around him, landing on all surroundings and sugar coating the landscape. He hated it. The first snow, he promised himself to confess to you after years of pinning. Sadly, it wasn’t warm enough to make the snowflakes turn into raindrops, and sadly he couldn’t back out, especially after telling Oikawa that he would confess to you. The ace was speechless from the first day he saw you, how could a human look this perfect? He was whipped, to say the least, maybe even would fucking simp for you.

“Hajime” Your voice echoed through the hallway, catching everyone’s attention and even his. He turned around, only to see you running towards him. It was the first week you were there as first year, and he was already in second year. Maybe his reason to confess finally in winter was because it would be the last season he would see you, or maybe because he met you in winter. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into his mind, and why right in that moment, he had to think about him confessing to you on the first snow day. Perhaps he liked to imagine the snow falling on you, catching your eyelashes, maybe also your hair.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa suddenly exclaimed, making the called boy groan in annoyance. “I told you not to call me like that!” He answered in an annoyed manner, almost ripping out his hair with only his words. “I am sorry!” The male apologized quickly, but the smirk plastered quickly after over his lips. “So,” he started, looking over at his best friend. “Today is your day, huh?” he mocked, making the ace scoff once again.

“Shut your mouth, shittykawa!” his hand lifted, giving the captain a small hit on his head, followed by a whine “Why you gotta be like that, iwa-chaaan” He didn’t know either.

After all, Oikawa was right. He had to confess, now or never. It was his third year, and he didn’t want to let the chace slip. Not this time.

“Iwa, if you leave after third class… will we keep in touch?” Your voice was so fragile. It was like it caused a reaction in his mind that made him want to hug you and tell you that he would never do that. He would always talk to you, even if he would go to university, or do something else.

He loved you too much to stop talking to you after his third year. “Of course, Y/N. Only death can tear us apart” he assured you, patting your head slowly

With a deep breath, he hoped to get rid of his negative thoughts.

What if you would reject him?

What if you would hate him?

What if you liked Oikawa more?

What if-

“Hajime, what are you doing here?” You stood behind the tall male, making him turn around and look down.

Right, what was he doing in front of your classroom? It’s not like you two had classes together. “Can we talk?” he asked. Your gaze quickly brushed over the clock to check the time, then you nodded. “Sure” With a relieved sigh, his hand automatically reached out for you, his fingers slowly wrapping around your wrist. His touch was so gentle, almost like you were the dancing white ballerinas that had been outside all day, and he didn’t want you to melt.

His feet led you two outside, and before you could even speak up, to ask him why he led you outside, his body made a 180° turn. “I really like you”

Not once would you have guessed that three words could have caught you off guard this much.

The blush on your face sadly did not go unnoticed by Iwaizumi, and the snowflakes that landed on your face didn’t cool your face down either. A small chuckle escaped his lips, making you heat up even more. “You will make the snow melt around you” he jokingly added, making the situation much easier with his joke, and you even cackled a laugh.

“I like you too, Hajime” if the snow didn’t melt around you guys by now, it would definitely do now.

His face heated up, but a fainted smile brushed over his lips. His arms reached out for your body, slowly clinging around you and pulling him into his warm chest. “Was it your plan to confess on the first snow?” you asked, muffling those words since your face was buried into his chest. “Yeah, you told me that you always wanted to get confessed on the first snow.” “You remember?”

“Every single detail.”

Kenma Kozume

The pink cherry tree never sat well with Kenma. He hated the bright color of the tree, it somehow exhausted him extremely much.

And he also hated it because everyone confessed under that tree.

“Did you hear it already? Sana confessed under the cherry tree that’s next to our school! And her crush didn’t reject her! Even though Sana was sure that she was straight…” you rambled excitedly, staring into the nothing. It was the end of winter, and spring would come soon. He wasn’t very excited, but you were. “I wish someone would confess to me this romantically” At that moment, he didn’t know how much those words would matter to him now. “Sounds cheesy” he admitted, but his gaze quickly flicked back to his switch. “Shut your mouth!” You whined out, not really hurt by his words, but you definitely hated the fact that he didn’t care at all.

You two had been childhood friends, along with Kuroo. People would only find you as a trio or just alone, there was no duo between you three. That’s why Kenma doubted that you would like him back. Sometimes, it felt like you were avoiding him, but that did not stop him from pining after you. Each day, the desire to make you his grew, and with each day growing it felt like you were only getting more and more distant.

“Hey pudding head, what’s wrong?” Kuroo, who of course noticed his lately rather bad mood while practice, asked him, giving him a rather worried look. “Nothing” his answer was short, short enough to make it seem a little suspicious yet also to make it sound like a normal response. “You like her?” The question was definitely strong enough to make Kenma slightly shiver before his head slowly picked up itself to look at Kuroo. “Yeah” his word came out almost whispered. “You should confess then” He would, really, if it wasn’t for the cherry tree he hated so much.

He didn’t even know why he hated it in the first place, maybe because he was scared of rejection and would hate school even more if he would pass the tree and think of the way his heart broke.

Or he was just simply disgusted by the cheesy confessions. Either way, there was no way he would- “You should do it soon, Lev also is about to confess” Kuroo interrupted his thoughts.

Shit.

“Do you like Lev?” “I mean, he is cute” You shrugged gently, then looked over at Kenma “Why are you asking?” “Ever since he saw you he can’t shut his mouth about you” The small giggle you let out that day was one of the few memories he would never forget. “Ah I see. But he isn’t really my type.”

Right after practice, you waited for Kuroo and Kenma as usual. And like usual, you got them Onigiri from the store that was pretty nearby school. You always went there to do something between school end and practice end, so it wouldn’t be too boring for you.

As soon as the gym door opened, Kenma stepped out the first and immediately walked up to you without and words. “Let’s go, I need to talk to you” He ordered, not really in an aggressive or mean manner, but rather scared one. With a small nod, you quickly started to pick up with his pace and followed him up to the cherry blossom tree.

Honestly? You kinda figured by now what his plan was.

“So uh…” his voice drifted off into the air. The pink flowers were falling down around you, making it look like tinted pink snow, just it was less cold and it looked more mesmerizing.

“Yeah?” You kinda tried to hint him, kind of tried to make him notice that you were waiting for the three words.

But he didn’t seem to understand very well. Actually, he barely understood what you wanted to hint to him. The falling cherry blossoms irritated him slightly, making his mind mixed up.

“Oh well, I…” his hair fell forward, covering his face a little as he looked down at the floor. “I like you too”

You swore, that if he hadn’t been blushing before, he was right now. His face turned red, but luckily the sun setting kind of helped to cover it up. “Wha-” his breathed hitched in his throat, but a small smile finally hushed over his lips. “Oh, I like you, Y/N. Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, of course Kenma. I’d love to!”

Maybe the cherry tree wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

Kei Tsukishima

His feelings were like bad weather, maybe like a rainy day. He couldn’t control them, and sometimes his feelings were feeling good, and sometimes bad. For example, whenever he saw you around other boys, it was definitely a rainy day, maybe mixed with some thunders. If you were laughing around him, it was definitely a warm and sunny day.

And if you would compliment him? It was a blooming day, full of nice flowers. But not even once he was able to compare a day to weather with a rainbow.

After rain, always a rainbow would follow, but somehow, not even once that happened to him.

“Y/N” His gaze almost bored a few holes into your eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat. “Yeah?” Your voice almost broke in the middle of the word, but he obviously didn’t mean to sound and look so intimidating. He just meant it nice, to call your name and get your attention. But you seemed to be more terrified than to be happy.

“Sorry” he sighed out, making you quickly shake your head “No no it's okay Tsukki!” You assured him, patting his shoulder. With his finger, he slightly pushed up his glasses, then sighed once again.

It was definitely a windy day today, he thought.

“Shouldn’t we get inside?” you asked, while slightly shaking and hugging yourself. It was really windy, too windy if he was honest, and since he didn’t want you to catch a cold, he took you to his house, that was much closer than yours. It was the first day where you got to see his Mom and his brother, also the first time you ever get into his house. It was something special, with no questions.

“My Mom wants to see you again” he broke the silence, making you nod a little and smile. “Did you bring your umbrella?” The question was kind of out of context for him, it was thrown into the room without and side information. “No…” “It looks like it will rain” You pointed out of the window, and his gaze followed your finger. The grey clouds took the suns to light away, making it pretty dark outside. But even though the sun didn’t shine anymore, your smile would still shine.

“We will have to run through the rain” you added, tilting your head a little. While you were admiring the clouds, he was admiring you. He couldn’t help but wonder when he could finally confess.

Maybe if the rainbow he had been missing shows up, he might confess.

“Have you ever seen a rainbow?” Your question was so innocent, making his heart melt right in place. “Yeah. Nothing special.” “Well, I did not!” You whined out, punching playfully and gently his shoulder. He almost smiled at your action, maybe even did smile slightly. “You won’t die without getting to see a rainbow” It was his way to reassure you that one day, you would get to see that colorful spectrum.

It was after school, where the rain was still pouring, but the clouds had already moved away.

A rainbow.

Tsukishima could feel it, that soon, there would appear a bright rainbow in the blue sky.

While the rain was pouring down on you two, you were probably the one who couldn’t care less. Maybe you even enjoyed the water running down your body, making everything wet and making your hair stick to your face. “Did you purposely not bring an umbrella?” “No!” it shot out of your mouth almost like a gun, making him chuckle a little and shake his head. “You enjoy getting wet, huh~” he hummed, in a teasing manner, making you blush a little. “Shut your mouth, saltyshima” you whined out again, looking now at the floor for a few seconds.

Cute.

That’s what you had been all day, cute.

“Y/N” After a few minutes, he called you, making you look up at the male next to you. “Mh?” “Look” He was looking at the sky, and curiously, you followed his gaze until realization hit you. The colorful spectrum that painted itself on the sky, stealing its attention and getting all the attention from the students amazed you.

“Woah, a rainbow!” you exclaimed, making him nod a little.

“It’s so pre-” “I like you.” his words were really random, and all the time you had been staring at the rainbow, he had spend staring at you. “Really much” he added, trying to get you out of your shock. Your lips slowly parted, and excitement took already over you.

A rainbow and a confession.

“I like you too, Kei”

And that’s how the first day with the rainbow got to one of his best memories.

«𝐛𝐲 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞»

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ LOYAL PEEPS: @shouyouwrites @sugawsites @kara-grayson04 @yams046 (send an ask to be tagged in the gen. Taglist! <3)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu!! x female reader #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kenma kozume x reader #kozume kenma x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff

[reddeaddamnation]

"A kiss like bite" - Cicero x F!Vampire!Listener [Smut]

Warnings: Smut, public sex, a little bit of cockwarming I guess?, voice kink, Cicero might be OOC idk I dont know what to expect from him

For a place as cold as Dawnstar, the sun felt scorching on the Listener's exposed skin. She felt like her face was going to melt off. Surely her corpse-like complexion had obtained a hot red color by now. She had been grouchy ever since she and Cicero left the sanctuary under the order of Nazir, who stated they were in desperate need of supplies. Why he didn't send the apprentices, you ask? Well, natural selection played it's part and the ones that didn't show themselves as skilled as others were...disposed of to say the least. Those who remained were sent after contracts accordingly to their skill, which left the oldest members to look after the sanctuary and lounge as much as they wanted.

But the Listener would rather fight a thousand mercenaries, a hundred Ebony warriors and Alduin all at once instead of staying out in this scorch. "Nazir thinks he can boss me around." She murmured under her nose angrily "Why couldn't he get the supplies? Doesn't he know about my condition!"

Cicero, on the other hand, was shivering from the cold next to her. "Cicero thinks Nazir knows about the condition far too well..." he stated "Is the Listener sure she isn't just mad at Nazir for taking Auriel's bow away from her?" The girl stopped and shot Cicero a glare "I...Ugh!" She stuttered, not knowing what to say. Sure, she overused Auriel's bow while she still had it, shot arrows at the sun at the very crack of dawn and probably left Tamriel in a constant eclipse with a vampire infestation, but what of it! Nazir's words still echoed in her mind "All this power went to your head, girl! I'm not giving this to you until you learn how to act properly or as you said once "like the common rabble". And don't you dare try to steal it back." And with that, tucked Auriel's bow somewhere secret.

She had great respect for Nazir and would never even think about hurting him. Maybe he was right. She was the Dragonborn that defeated Alduin, killed the most powerful warrior in Skyrim, killed the first dragonborn in combat in a Daedric realm, she was the leader of the Thieves' guild, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Harbringer of the Companions, had all the Jarls in her back pocket, all the Daedra owed her a favor, ended the Civil war, killed a Vampire lord and gained the ability to block off the sun AND studied the Way of the Voice from a dragon. Maybe all the power went to her head.

"Would the Listener feel better if sweet, sweet Cicero lets her bite his neck?" He offered. The girl looked up at him, as if looking for signs of regret or anything that would mean he didn't really want it. None. Her kind, loving Cicero was as sincere as ever with her. Always looking after her wellbeing and always ready to serve. She grabbed his hand, dragging him behind a nearby house, away from prying eyes. She pressed him against the wooden wall and kissed his neck, before sinking her teeth in the tender flesh.

Cicero shivered in pleasure and let out a quiet moan. The listener gripped the front of his shirt as she let mouthfuls of the crimson liquid flood her mouth. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head in ecstacy. His blood was always so sweet, so enticing. "Listener..." his voice came out in a low, erotic groan that made heat pool inbetween her legs. Oh, how she loved her jester...

When she felt she had enough, she pried her teeth away from the wound and licked it clean, before kissing her way up to his lips. He tasted his own blood on her tongue. His hands trailed up her thighs, gripping her through the fabric of her clothes. "Cicero..." she moaned quietly, making the jester chuckle darkly.

"Oh, Listener, what a naughty mind you have." Cicero's voice was barely a whisper "So needy... and in the middle of town in broad daylight." He clicked his tongue and lifted her smaller figure, pressing it firmly against the wall, his body flush against hers and wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt his growing bulge through his pants. "Cicero lives to serve, my night flower." The dark tone in his voice when he would get aroused always had the effect to instantly make her want to submit, beg and ready to do anything he wants of her even if he didn't say anything in particular. "But..." he buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply "We need to keep quiet." He giggled again "Oh, what fun. What a thrill."

The Listener squirmed against him, desperate for his touch. "Tsk." He bit her shoulder harshly "What did Cicero just say?" The keeper proceeded to pull apart her shirt, just enough to expose her breasts and let his hands caress up her body to cup and squeeze them. She bit her lip, trying to contain her moans. Her blood boiled but she wasn't sure if it was because of the sunlight or because of the erotic moment the two were sharing. At the very least, the sun was in such a position that it shone in front of the house, casting a shade right where they were.

Cicero didn't linger long, before slowly pulling down her pants and undergarments. He revelled in the sight of her face, flushed with arousal, her body twisting and squirming in need of his touch... and her dripping wet cunt. His Listener needed him and he was ready to serve. Just as he freed his member from the confinement of his trousers, a devilish thought crossed his mind. "My dear Listener, my beautiful little night flower..." he kissed her neck, whispering in her ear as he guided himself inside her "You always get so aroused when Cicero lets you drink his blood." The listener whimpered quietly, burying her nails in his shoulders.

As soon as he was fully inside of her, Cicero let out a shaky breath and stopped moving completely. A sly smirk on his face. "C-Cicero..." she started, but he cut her off. "Shh." Soon enough, she heard footsteps approaching and merry voices talking. Two men were telling each other stories. The girl gasped but Cicero covered her lips with his own, muffling any sound. The men stopped right before the house they were hiding behind.

Cicero pulled away from the kiss and started grinding himself against her body, his cock still fully inside her, all while while kissing her jawline. The listener desperately tried to hold in her moans, cursing the intruders to Oblivion and back. "Don't utter a sound, my sweet." She could hear the smirk in Cicero's voice. He was enjoying this!

He proceeded to leave hickeys all over her neck and breasts, driving her absolutely mad, because he still wasn't doing what she wants him to do and it was becoming very hard to keep quiet. "When we get back..." The keeper spoke "Cicero will, mm... take his time in pleasuring every part of his dear, beloved Listener..." his fingers found her clit and began massaging and pinching it "Make sure to eat you out... leave just a bit more bite marks on you... But you won't come right away, oh no."

Yes, he was enjoying this far too much. Whispering filthy things in her ear, while fingering her with his dick stiff inside her, all the while keeping quiet because of the unsuspecting people around. Suddenly the voices became distant as stars emerged in front of her eyes. She was so close... Just a bit more...

"Just like now."

That phrase made her want to scream. Because as soon as the jester said it, he stopped all movement and just watched her smugly. For a man who is presumably insane, he became exceptionally serious during sex and knew exactly what his Listener wanted and how he could tease her.

Perhaps with a bit of coaxing... "Cicero..." she put on her most flattering, irresistible face, as her hands traveled up his chest, around his neck and into his red hair "Oh, my darling Keeper, please, don't leave your Listener waiting... I need this..." Cicero stared, mesmerized at his love, a look of utter adoration in his eyes. He could never say no to her...

In the distance, the voices seemingly disappeared, meaning the two men had left. But none the matter, as Cicero slowly started grinding against her lower body, building up speed to start thrusting. His eyes never left her's. It wasn't long before she was close again, letting her breath come out in short pants, as she squeezed his member and came all over him, lips parted in a silent moan and eyes closed. Cicero came shortly after, filling her up with his cum, his head buried in the crook of her neck.

#skyrim #the elder scrolls skyrim #the elder scrolls v skyrim #cicero x reader #cicero imagine #cicero x listener #cicero #skyrim cicero #the elder scrolls cicero #cicero x reader imagine

[rogueonestan]

the calm before the storm

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: canon type violence (but not explicit), some mentions of blood, fight scenes but it’s balanced out with some softness

a/n: one of my scenes was inspired by this ask by @dindjarindiaries​ and i just had to write about that boat scene from the trailer

 masterlist

The first thing you hear is an unbearable piercing noise. The last thing you can remember is seeking shelter inside the boat when the shots first began. Breathing deeply, you try not to get overwhelmed by the sudden muffled voices you are beginning to hear. The voices are beginning to overload your senses; you need to find a way out of here. But you need to find your partner first. Din. You need to make sure he and his foundling are alright. 

Using one of your arms to support yourself, excruciating pain shoots through your arm as you fall back down on the ground with a big thud. Panting by the effort, you try to regain your strength by focusing on your breathing. Laying down on the ground, you continue panting from the previous efforts of trying to get up.

Suddenly, you feel something slowly dripping down the right side of your temple. Lifting your correlating hand, you reach and find a thick, dark liquid on your fingertips; blood. Through your blurry vision,  you glance down at your hand in horror. You close your eyes and try to recall the last thing you can remember. Flashes of past events appear in your mind; the mysterious figure walking down the hallway, the sudden attack on the boat, the cloaked woman from the port. You need to get out of here.

But before you can try to get back up again, there’s a familiar sensation of gloved hands touching your arms. Looking to your right, you see him, his name comes out of your mouth no louder than a whisper. Kneeling next to you, Din‘s hands move from your biceps to cupping your cheeks, saying something to you but all you can hear are muffled noises. He supports your body by placing one hand on your lower back with the other on your right arm, helping you to sit along the nearby wall. Taking in your surroundings, you see chaos ensuing through the tight halls. 

Kneeling in front of you, Din cups your cheeks, and a muffled question can be heard from him, but you still can’t hear him clearly. Focusing on the distant sound of his voice, you take a few deep breaths until you’re able to hear him more clearly. “Are you alright?” You nod slowly. His right-hand breaks contact with your cheek, now touching your temple. The fingertips of his glove are now covered in blood, your blood. He tilts his helmet to the side and you can just feel his disappointment when you become dismissive of the effects of your injury. You can’t see it, but underneath the helmet, he closes his eyes in frustration as he tries to keep calm in this situation. He already lost one member of his clan, he’ll be damned if he loses the other. With your combined efforts, your Mandalorian partner is able to help you back on your feet again. Wrapping your arms around his torso for extra support, Din begins to lead you in the opposite direction in hopes of getting the two of you off of the boat. He leans down and suggests you need to keep moving. 

Looking around you, you see people continue to scramble their way through the tight hallways; screaming, panicking as multiple Mon Calamaris shove past you. “Where’s the kid?” You ask, suddenly realizing the child’s pram is nowhere in sight.

Din’s body immediately tenses up as his arm around your waist only tightens. He reiterates his previous statement. “We have to keep moving.” His pace immediately quickens up as you struggle to keep up with him. Another loud bang is heard as Din struggles to find a way out for both of you. You just knew something bad was going to happen when the three of you were at the port earlier that day.

Arriving at Mon Cala’s docks, you take in your surroundings of the local Mon Calamaris and Quarrens that are currently going on with their typical business; trading, conversation, loading and unloading boxes on their boats. Out of all the time you’ve traveled the galaxy with your Mandalorian, you’ve never been to an oceanic planet like this one before. Why were you guys even here again? You’re able to vocalize your question when a hooded figure out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. Looking to your right, you see a human woman, the only human on the dock, looking at the three you in the same way a predator looks at its prey. You shift in discomfort at her stare. Looking over at your partner, you notice the woman has managed to catch his eye as well, along with the kid. The baby looks up at his father figure, cooing out of interest, only to have Din look down at him without saying a word. You’re about to convey your concerns to your partner but he interrupts you, suggesting the three of you need to keep moving, to minimize the risk of being noticed. Ever since the events of Nevarro, the three of you have been able to be recognized or located by fellow hunters, even on less populated planets like Mon Cala. 

 As the Mandalorian and his foundling continue to walk through the busy port, you cannot seem to move; it’s like the mysterious woman has some sort of pull on you. You begin to walk in her direction without thinking about it, something telling you to go towards her. You keep direct contact with her as you close the distance between you two, but with the consistent crashing into a few of the locals allows the woman to disappear out of your sight. When you finally arrive at the area she was at, you’re disappointed to find no sort of clues as to who this woman is or where she went. You don’t know what it is about her, but it’s something about her that enchanted you. Maybe she has the same powers as the baby? Or was she an enemy sent by Moff Gideon himself? Something about her seemed alluring to you; you’re not sure yet. 

Suddenly, a gloved hand touches your shoulder. Turning around, you find Din directly behind you, tilting his helmet at you in concern. “Cyar’ika,” his hand drags down the length of your arm until it reaches your wrist. “Let’s go.” He says as he motions his helmet in the opposite direction. Tugging on your wrist, he motions you to follow him. Without hesitation, you follow his lead. While he’s pulling you away, you take one last glance to where the cloaked woman once stood; still dumbfounded as to how she could’ve escaped without a trace. Suddenly stopping, you stand next to Din’s side as you see where you’re going next: onto a boat. With a confused look on your face, your partner reiterates what he said before. “We need to keep moving.” 

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“It’s our only way out of here. Do you have any other suggestions?” Shaking your head at him, you follow his lead onto the boat.

Once the locals have finished loading and unloading crates from the boat, the boat leaves the port without delay. Feeling the harsh wind through your hair and on your face, you feel a shiver throughout your entire body as you struggle to maintain your warm body heat. After a few minutes, you zip your jacket and rub your hands up and down your arms repeatedly, a vain attempt of keeping yourself warm during this journey. 

You don’t have the multiple layers of clothing that your partner has. You can feel your fingertips beginning to go numb from the harsh weather, your entire body beginning to feel the effects of the harsh winds. You don’t know how long you’ll be on this boat but you hope it won’t be for long. 

You hear a modulated laugh to your right. Stopping the movements of your arms, you slowly turn your head to the right and you can see Din shaking his head in amusement. You just know he has the biggest smile plastered on his face by your behavior. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, cyare.” He replies with a soft tone. You give a noncommittal sound. Reaching to his left shoulder, Din detaches the cape he is currently donning and walks towards you. As he drapes the material around you, you cover his hands with yours, making sure the cape is secure.  “Better?” He asks as you glance into his visor. 

You nod with a small smile emerging on your face by his simple yet intimate gesture. “Much.”

His gaze lingers on you a few moments longer than necessary, you can just feel how much he cares for you based solely on his actions. Din nods once at you before returning to the other side of the Child’s pram. 

The three of you stew in silence for a few minutes, besides the occasional cooing noises from the baby. The little one looks at his parental figures with an anxious look on his face. You look in the distance and see nothing but water; nothing in sight.

Looking out to the oceans always brought you comfort as a child, always putting you at ease. Growing up on an oceanic planet like Mon Cala, you always spent your time at the nearby beaches close to your childhood home. Your mother even bought a necklace with a wave amulet on it when she took you to the local marketplace once. As a child, you would spend hours upon hours digging your feet in the sand, running through the cold ocean water, enjoying the pure bliss you felt by the sun touching your skin. You felt at ease, at peace, but looking out at Mal Cala’s oceans just puts you on edge. 

You have a deep feeling down in your gut telling you something about this planet doesn’t feel right. 

The baby to your right slightly whimpers, something he only does right before any potential enemies present themselves. Reaching down, you affectionately scratch at the child’s ears, who gurgles in response. 

Looking up at the sky, the clouds were almost as dark in color as the waves were. The waves were calm but the clouds loomed large darkness. The calm before the storm. 

Glancing at your partner, you see his left-hand is hovering over his blaster while watching the calming waves- always on alert. You voice your concerns. “So, what’s our plan?”

“We keep moving.”

“Okay, but where to exactly?” 

“I’m not sure yet, but these guys,” Din says as he motions to the workers, “are going to take us to one of their cities. There we can-” His sentence is interrupted by the distant roaring of a starfighter. 

Looking over your shoulder, you see a TIE fighter flying nearby and that’s when you feel your heart drop at the bottom of your stomach; your blood turns cold. They found you. Somehow, somewhere deep inside you just know this has to do with the mysterious woman you saw on the dock earlier. Taking in a sharp deep breath, the fighter starts firing multiple blasts near the boat, luckily never hitting it. The fighter breaks off, preparing for another attack. The sound of alarms going off brings you back to reality. You look over at Din and find him already securing his foundling inside his pram. Wrapping his hand around yours, interlacing your fingers together, Din pulls you towards the interior of the boat- shelter. 

With red lights flashing inside the boat, Din maneuvers his way through the tight hallways, trying to find a safe location for his clan of three. As he zips up and down multiple halls, another loud explosion is echoed through the inside of the boat, and before you know it, Din’s hand is ripped away from yours when a group of the locals collides with the both of you. With the inside of the boat being like a maze, you easily lose Din. Looking around you in a panic, you shout out his name multiple times to no avail. You have to find him. 

You sprint up and down multiple hallways as you try to find your partner. Looking around you, you realize you’ve never been to this part of the boat before and you must’ve taken a wrong turn in the midst of your panic. You take a few calming breaths in hopes of not overwhelming yourself. You need to stay calm. Continuing on your search for your clan, you suddenly see a contrasting bright light, to the redness surrounding you, at the end of the hallway. Walking towards the new source of light, you see it’s the boat deck, except now it’s a cluttered mess. Crates were gently placed and organized before leaving the dock, now they’re scattered all over the floor. You have no idea what the kriff is going on. Bewildered, your head subconsciously looks up at the sky and you see the clouds are now almost black in color. You can’t find any kind of sign of the fighter. This has to be some sort of sign. 

Heading back inside, you continue on with your search. Due to the frenzy, you get shoved and slammed in the walls repeatedly thanks to the panicked locals and the tight hallways. After getting shoved particularly hard, you see a dark, mysterious figure walking past you in a rush. A sudden feeling of intrigue overcomes your body, almost similar to the same way the cloaked woman did on the dock. You begin heading towards the same direction as the mysterious figure, almost catching up to them. You reach out your hand to put on their shoulder when suddenly two Quarrens come rushing around the corner, making you lose your balance and hit against the sharp corner of the wall. Yelling out in pain, your body hits the floor hard. Your hand reaches to touch the injured area of your head and luckily you haven’t been that badly injured, the area only minorly bleeding. Stabilizing yourself with the nearby wall, you slowly lift yourself off of the ground and begin walking slowly towards the direction of the figure. But you can’t see to find them anywhere. Turning back around in the direction you came from, the blood in your veins suddenly turns cold as you’re face-to-face with the figure. They have a familiar face, but you can’t seem to put your finger on where you’ve seen them before. 

The mysterious person immediately grabs you with their grip incredibly tight and begins to drag you in the opposite direction. You begin shouting at the top of your lungs, demanding to let you go, but their grip on your arm only tightens as you fight. Using your free arm, you begin to hit them in hopes of distracting them, but it never works. Their grip is so tight around your arm that it cuts off the blood circulation. You express your discomfort only to find the figure ignore you. 

 Grabbing something off of their belt, the dark figure looks over at you and presses the communication button on their comlink. “We got the partner, meet us at the rendezvous point with the kid.” The enigmatic person states, putting their comlink back on their belt. Realizing their intentions, you fight off the person’s grasp with even more strength, determined to not let them be successful in their mission. 

The dark figure’s pace begins to quicken and with the head injury you got only a few moments ago, it’s difficult for you to keep up; they’re lugging you more than dragging. 

With their quick pace, they whip around a corner to another hallway when suddenly a group of Mon Calamaris collides with the two of you, forcing the cloaked figure’s grip on you to be completely broken. Seeing your opportunity, you quickly grab the vibroknife that’s currently stashed in one of your boots and swipe the blade across the person’s arm. Yelling out in pain, the figure immediately uses their free hand to apply pressure to their fresh wound. You’re about to turn in the opposite direction to run away when the veiled figure gets another tight hold on your arm and throws you harshly against the nearby wall, surely making your minor head wound even worse. Your head throbs in pain as you fall to the floor by the impact of the throw. The figure now hovering over you, takes a vibroknife out of their holster when you kick them brutally in the shin, rendering them on the floor alongside you. With the tight hallway, you’re nearly side-to-side with your enemy. 

Supporting yourself on one knee, you punch the cloaked figure on the nose. They yell out profanities at you as they clutch their nose. You’re able to stand back up when the figure lunges at you with a knife in their hand when miraculously, you dodge their attack. You grab the vibroknife that fell alongside you when you fell to the ground and swing in their direction when they not only dodge your attack but also get a tight grasp around your wrist, forcing you to drop your weapon. Screeching in pain, you try to release their grasp on your wrist, but you’re unable to. They begin to twist your arm in the direction opposite of your body, making you scream out from the unbearable pain. You collide your free hand into their gut, making them loosen their grip on you for the second time. Seeing your moment of opportunity, you grab the knife from the floor and plunge it into their chest without hesitation. Panting heavily, you sigh out of relief of surviving yet another fight. Grabbing the knife out of their chest, you put in back in your boot and continue on your search of finding your clan. 

Weaving your way through multiple hallways, you end up see the familiar bright light from before and find yourself walking towards it, though you’re unsure why; it’s like it’s calling to you for some reason. As you get closer to the door, a shining object from the floor catches your eye. Getting a closer look, you see it’s the necklace you gave to Din when your relationship began taking a romantic turn. You begin to smile fondly of the moment when you gave it to him, but you’re suddenly pushed into the wall firmly for the umpteenth time. The force from this shove is so intense that your vision immediately becomes spotty. You begin to feel lightheaded, collapsing to the ground. Grabbing the necklace that lays beside you, you secure it in your jacket pocket. You try to get back up, but your vision slowly turns to black as you whisper your lover’s name. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been unconscious, but you know the longer you’re separated from Din, the more danger the three of you are in. All you can hear are distorted voices. Slowly, you begin to open your eyes and you see blurry figures passing by you in a frenzy. Grunting softly in pain, you attempt to get up from the ground when a sharp pain shoots through your arm as you put pressure on it.

The familiar feeling of a pair of gloved hands on you brings you back to the present.

“Su cuy’gar.” You’re alive. You hear Din say, or rather murmur, as your senses are trying to adjust to you waking up. You sigh in relief by the sight of Din. Lifting you up and supporting your body weight against his, he moves the pair of you towards the end of the hallway. 

As Din is navigating you, you notice the child’s pram isn’t in sight. You ask Din where it is, what happened as you got separated, but he never gives you a definitive answer; his grip around your waist only tightens. “I’ll tell you later, cyar’ika.”

He continues to weave his way through the endless sea of hallways when you feel yet another deep rumble underneath your feet, another nearby blaster shot. You tighten your grip around Din’s torso out of fear. He whispers soft reassurances in your ear while squeezing your waist in comfort. While walking down one of the many hallways in the boat, Din suddenly stops dead in his tracks. You’re about to question him why he abruptly stopped when suddenly he drags you to a nearby room. Opening the door, he scrambles the two of you inside the tight room- a storage room. His change in behavior dumbfounds you. Opening your mouth to question your partner, he places a gloved hand around your mouth. After what seems like hours, he drops his hand and places it back to his side.

“What’s going on?”

“Troopers.” He says as he opens the door to check if the coast is clear.

“How many?”

“Don’t know yet, but we need to hurry.” He says curtly to you. You know he doesn’t mean to be so short with you, he just needs to ensure your safety. 

“But-”

“You need to trust me, cyar’ika, please.” He pleads with you, “I can’t explain everything right now, but I just need you to trust me.”

“You know I do.”

“I know, but we have to move before they find us again.”

“Wait,” you urgently say to him as you suddenly remember about the lost trinket you found earlier. You pull out the necklace from your jacket pocket and offer it to him. 

It was an ordinary night when you showed Din a cherished trinket from your childhood. After a long day of doing repairs on the Crest, you found the necklace in your satchel.

You were getting ready for the night, organizing and making sure everything was in order for the following day when you noticed your bag was knocked over on the ground next to your side of the bed you share with Din. Kneeling down, you place your bag right-side-up when you notice something shiny has fallen out; the wave necklace your mother bought for you at the marketplace when you were a child. The necklace is simple looking; a silver wave amulet on a silver chain- nothing too spectacular. But to you, it meant everything. It reminded you of the summers you would spend at the beach with your parents. The sensation you would feel while playing in the water. The sun on your skin. The pure bliss you felt as a child. 

With the busy lifestyle you share with Din, you almost completely forgot about it. You used to wear it all the time as a child, but for some reason, you suddenly stopped. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to be reminded of the simple life you used to have, or to be reminded of what you lost. 

Settling yourself underneath the covers, you lean your head against the wall behind you and admire the shine from the necklace. A series of moments from your childhood appear in your head and you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice Din standing in the doorway.

“What do you have there, ner kar’taylir darasuum?” He asks as he settles down next to you. My love.

“It’s a necklace my mother gave me as a child.” You begin with a soft smile on your face as you turn to your partner. “I saw it at a marketplace on my home planet once and I was completely enthralled by it. It reminded me of the ocean waves I loved whenever my family would take us to the nearby beach during the summers. I used to wear it all the time as a child; it was like it was a part of me.” Sighing heavily, you look into Din’s visor.

“Do you want me to help you to put it on?”

“No.” You say with the most delicate voice. Placing the necklace in the palm of his hand, you graze your fingertips across his bare knuckles as you slowly make his hand into a fist. “I want you to have it.”

“Cyar’ika, thank you.” Standing up to turn off the light switch, you hear Din call out your name- hesitating, almost like he’s nervous. “Can- can you put it on for me?”

Humming in agreement, you place your hand out so he can give you the necklace. He places the piece of jewelry gently in your hand like it’s made out of glass. When his fingertips graze the palm of your hand, a warm sensation flows through your body, like sparks fly whenever you’re blessed of feeling his bare skin. With the necklace in your hand, you unclasp the chain and motion for Din to turn around. Inching closer to him, you lightly place the piece of jewelry along his collarbone. Once you clasp the necklace, you let your fingertips linger at the base of his neck for a few moments before lightly removing them. When you lift your fingers, you replace them with your lips, lightly pecking in the same spot your hands were just moments ago.

“Cyar’ika, thank you.” Saying the same phrase he said that night, you find the same admiration he held to you during that intimate moment. Taking the necklace from your hand, you can feel him marveling at the necklace you gave to him that one night. “But I think you need to hold onto it- for safekeeping.” Furrowing your brows in slight confusion, you watch him take off of his gloves, placing them in your hand. Unclasping the necklace, he leans forward and secures it around your neck. The feeling of his bare fingertips on the nape of your neck sends goosebumps down your spine. Putting his gloves back on, he opens the door and leads the pair of you into the main hallway of the boat. 

Walking back into the now empty hallway, you notice the noise on the boat has suddenly dissipated. Screams and panicked sounds lured the halls since the attack began but now hardly any noises can be heard. The only sounds you can hear are the distance blaster shots and footsteps of what you can assume to be the troopers. Looking at your partner, you see he’s trying to pinpoint where the troopers are by using the technology inside his helmet. Tightly wrapping his hand in yours, he drags you up in the same direction the two of you just came from. 

As you sprint down the hall, you begin to wonder where the rest of the passengers are. Have they been killed? Are they being interrogated by the Imps? How did troopers even find you? And the biggest question on your mind is, who was that cloaked figure that passed by you in that hall?

So many thoughts are going through your mind. The silence surrounding you is putting you on edge; somehow the dead silence spikes your adrenaline more than the chaos ensuing from earlier. You can feel your heart rate increasing, your hands beginning to get clammy, your breath getting hitched in your throat whenever you think you heard someone. You bow your head, looking down to the ground, and try to focus on evening out your breathing. 

Seeing the sudden change in your demeanor, Din loosens his grip from your hand and brings it up to your chin. “Cyar’ika, I need you to look at me.” He begins as he lifts your chin slightly. “I know this is scary but I need you to stay calm. We need to get out of here so we can find the kid-”

“You still haven’t even told me what happened!”

“I will later but we need to-” 

“There they are! We found the fugitives!” You hear the unsettling modulator from one of the stormtroopers. Din suddenly stops as his visor snaps to the location of the sound. Looking to your right, you see a trio of troopers at the end of the hallway. Your heartbeat begins to race even faster now, shortness of breath is felt as you internally begin to panic, and your eyes widen in alarm. Before you know it, Din’s hand is wrapped around your own as he guides you in the direction away from the troopers. He weaves the pair of you down several hallways, you can’t hear the rustling footsteps of the troopers following you. You don’t know if they’re even still following you. You turn around a corner when you see another trio of troopers standing at the end of the hall. Without hesitation, Din takes out blaster with his free hand and shoots at them. You feel a sense of temporary relief wash over your body as you begin to see the same bright light from earlier. However, the relief is seized from your body as you see the mysterious, dark figure from earlier standing at the doorway that separates the interior of the boat to the deck. You stop dead in your tracks, your face plastered with an expression of fright on it. The familiar sense of dread comes over you once again. 

“What is it?” Your partner asks you.

Taking in a shaky breath, you move your head towards the figure, “It’s- it’s them.” You say with a tone of fear Din’s never heard from you before. From all the time Din’s known you, of being the Mandalorian’s partner, he’s never seen fear consume you like this before. Looking at your partner, you see his helmet is tilted in confusion, so you continue. “They’re the ones responsible for all of this. They took the kid.” Looking at Din one last time, you nod your head at him with a determined look on your face. He nods back at you with the same expression underneath his helmet, his left-hand hovering over his blaster, preparing himself for the upcoming fight to get off of this damn boat.

mando'a terms used: cyar'ika - sweetheart cyare - beloved su cuy'gar - hello (lit. you're alive) ner kar'taylir darasuum - my love

#i tried writing that crate scene but it was just so awful #so i added the necklace flashback #someone give din a necklace !! #do it u coward mouse #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #star wars imagine #the mandalorian x you #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #my writing

[uwu-shinsou]

bro ur shinsou imagine was .. *chefs kiss* .. ur writing is REALLY MF GOOD !! :) if you are taking requests u should do a shinsou x reader with a glowy/energy quirk that activates when she gets wound up and he finds her ab to throw hands at someone calling him a villain. If not don't worry about it and have a great day :)

Title: Sweetheart, You’re Glowing

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, comfort, Shinsou being soft

Word Count: 1900+

Warning(s): Mild language, some rude background characters

A/N: Bro I’m SOFT that’s so sweet :’))) I’m so happy you liked it! And this request is so cute omg my heart🥺❤️ Anyone tryna call bby Shinsou a villain better be ready to catch these HANDS (ง'̀-'́)ง Also I was thinking about this story like right before going to bed and AS I was falling asleep I came up with how to write it and had to get up and write an outline LMAO. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!!

You made your way through the warm summer night, talking and laughing with friends as you aimed towards the distant sound of loud, fast music. One of the third year classes had decided to throw a party in their building, and it had been so long since you’d let loose that the second you heard about it you had decided to go. Some of your friends and classmates had decided to tag along with you, looking for a fun escape for the night. You walked along with Mina, Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, Jirou, and Shinsou.

“Y/n, I really like your dress!” Jirou says. You look down at your outfit, smoothing out the fabric.

“Thanks Jirou! Look,” You say, fiddling with the fabric, finding what you’re looking for. “It even has pockets!” Her mouth opens in awe, taking in that indeed, the dress has two pockets.

“You’re right, Jirou,” Mina says, leaning over to cling to your arm, twirling you around in a dizzying circle. “Y/n/n looks suuuper cute, right boys?” She asks innocently. Even with the question being directed to all of them, you see her wiggle her eyebrows at Shinsou.

“Mina,” you hiss through your teeth. Ugh, she literally couldn’t be any more obvious. The truth is, you had started with a tiny crush on the purple haired boy, that only grew larger the more you hung out with him. While you definitely know that the two of you are friends, Shinsou hasn’t really shown any signs that he might like you any more than that. So you’d kept those feelings pushed back, trying your best to not let them possibly spoil your friendship. Although now I see telling Mina might have not been a good idea. At least Jirou knows to keep it to herself. 

Or maybe not. Jirou bumps you with her hip as she passes. “Don’t you mean she always looks cute?” You start to feel a little flustered as the boys give nods and smiles at the comments of your friends.

And then you feel really frazzled when you see Shinsou looking at you, his gaze traveling languidly over your body. Finally he says, “You’re right, y/n does always look pretty cute.”

Your breath stumbles, and you feel your cheeks start to heat up. Did Shinsou just call me cute?! “Aww look you guys,” Mina coos. “We made her glow!”

It was true, your skin was producing a pale, radiant glow. This was thanks to your quirk: the stronger of an emotion you felt, the more physically stronger, faster, and agile you became. But this power also manifested with a physical sign. As any emotion built up, your body would begin to glow with light. The stronger the emotion, the more your power grew and the stronger you’d  glow. 

While your quirk was useful, it was sometimes also the bane of your existence. You scoff, wrapping your arms around your body. “Glowing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shinsou hums in thought, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Well this gorgeous lighting must be coming from somewhere.” At his words you let out a small squeak, glowing just the tiniest bit brighter. Shinsou’s smile turns into a full on grin. Oh god, does he even know what he’s doing to me!?

You let out a forced laugh, skipping slightly ahead of your group to the doors of the building. You look back at them over your shoulder. “Well, who’s ready to party?”

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

You had been at the party for a grand total of an hour and a half, and you still hadn’t decided whether or not you were having fun. There were a lot of students who came, and the room felt just a bit too small to hold that many people. While you had talked to some new people, seen some familiar faces, in the end your little group mostly stuck together.

Currently you were leaning against a wall with Jirou and Kirishima, part of the group of party-goers watching Mina, Kamimari, Sero, and Shinsou play an intense game of ping-pong.

After another minute of watching the game, the crowd cheering as Sero and Mina’s team score a point, you decide you need to take a walk around. 

You push up from the wall, turning to your friends. “Hey I’m gonna go grab a drink, I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Have fun!” Kirishima calls after you as you weave your way through the crowd, unaware of how Shinsou’s eyes stray from the game and trail after you. 

You reach the kitchen, filling a cup with punch before turning back to survey the room in front of you. It is really too crowded in here, you think, taking a big drink and fanning yourself with your hand. You take in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Is it too early to want to leave already? You wonder, drifting slowly back towards your friends. 

You stop at the edge of the crowd around the ping-pong table, tuning in to a nearby conversation. 

“...people from 1-A?” You hear the tail-end of the person’s question.

“Yeah, the ones who’ve had to deal with all of those villains already,” his friend answers. 

“And that other guy he’s from the sports festival, right?” They ask, pointing a finger towards Shinsou. 

“Yeah yeah, that’s him,” Their friend answers. “He’s the one with that crazy power that makes people obey him without question. It makes more sense for him to be a villain than a hero if you ask me.” Your vision starts to blur at the hateful words. 

The person adds on, “Why does he even bother fighting it? Obviously he’s supposed to be evil when you’re born with a power like that. He should leave so another student can take his place, someone who deserves to be at this school more.” 

You involuntarily crush the cup in your hand with a resounding crunch, dropping it to the ground as you face the pair of trash-talkers.

“How dare you talk about him like that,” You seethe stalking up to the offenders. The two turn towards you and their eyes grow wide. Then begin to back away as you continue to advance. “You don’t even know him or what he’s actually like. He’s more of a hero than the two of you combined!” The pair seem to try to shrink into the floor, shielding their eyes as if the room was now too bright. “I think it’s more evil to stand there and shit talk a fellow student. If you’re going to act like that, then why are you even at U.A.?!” 

One of them starts to stammer. “W-well, when you think about it, his quirk really is better suited for a villain-”

“Oh yeah? Well I think your face might be better suited to catch these hands if you don’t shut the hell up!” You hiss at them, hands gripped into fists at your side.

You feel a hand land on your shoulder, and you whip around, prepared to have to defend yourself only to recognize who it was that interrupted you.

Shinsou squeezes your shoulder, leaning in close. “Sweetheart you’re glowing,” he says softly in your ear, pulling away as you lift your hands up in front of you. A shining, radiant light leaped off of your skin, becoming even brighter now that you noticed it was happening. You glance around the room, seeing that you’ve become the center of attention. 

You pull your hands into your chest, feeling the thrum of power flowing through you at your intense, conflicted emotions. Your breathing quickens and you backup a step, wanting nothing more than to not be here. 

Then you feel the weight of Shinsou’s jacket being slung over your shoulders, hiding some of the glow. He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you through the front door, out into the late night and away from all of the gawking people.

For a minute you walk in silence, putting some much needed distance between yourself and the building. It isn’t until the sounds of the party have faded that you slow to a stop, the light of your quirk fading down to a dim glow. Shinsou removes his arm, turning to face you as you stare down at your shoes.

“Sorry for making a scene,” You say quietly, gripping the edges of Shinsou’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. “And thanks for pulling me out of there.”

 Shinsou stays quiet for a few beats, long enough that you glance up at him. He’s standing still, staring at you. Slowly he lifts a hand up, slightly reaching towards you.

“Shinsou? Are you-” You’re cut off mid-sentence as he almost stumbles forward, wrapping his arms tightly around you, enfolding you against his body. Your face is smooshed against his chest and he brings a hand up to the back of your head, nestling his face in the side of your neck. After a moment you gently wrap your arms around him, hands bunching up in the back of his shirt.

“Y/n/n, I should be thanking you,” he says, voice muffled, holding you a little bit tighter. “I’ve heard people say those things about me all my life, I’m used to it. But people don’t- they don’t stick up for me, not like that. It made me so happy- to see you do that.” He huffs out a laugh, his breath warm against your neck. “I still can’t believe you were about to get into a fight to defend my honor.” 

You wiggle a little bit and pull away just enough to be able to look at him, moving your hands to rest against his chest. You give him an embarrassed, bashful smile. “To be fair, you’re the only one who I’d get into a fight for.” He smiles back at you, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and you feel your heart start to speed up, heat blossoming on your cheeks. God I’m so whipped for this boy, you think closing your eyes in bliss at the feeling of being held, warm happiness flooding through your veins.

“Y/n,” He says, your name little more than a breath against your lips. You look at him with a lidded gaze, seeing your bright, gleaming form in the reflection of his eyes. “You look like starlight,” Shinsou whispers, his hand moving up to trace a finger along your jaw. You shudder at his gentle touch, clinging tighter to him. He leans down, his lips almost touching yours. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, before crashing your mouth against his. One of your hands slides up Shinsou’s chest and behind his head, burying into his hair. His lips move passionately against yours, and you wish that you could live right here in this moment. You only pull away to catch your breath, breathing heavily as you open your eyes to the sight of Shinsou; his hair messy, lips startlingly pink, eyes slightly glazed.

“I like you, Shinsou,” you say, unable to contain the words any longer. “I really, really like you.” Shinsou moves his hands to cradle your face and leans down to kiss you again, this time short and sweet. Then he moves to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, peppering your whole face with kisses.

You giggle at the littering of kisses, glowing even a shade brighter from the giddiness in your heart. Shinsou stops his kisses, releasing your face and grasping your hands. He brings them up to his face, placing a final, soft kiss on the back of your hand. “And I adore you, Y/n.”

#shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #shinsou imagine #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou hitoshi imagine #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia #mha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagine #wow two fics in one day hehe

[jessepinwheel]

Man I would love to see Padme receive consequences for choosing Anakin over her duties like with the clones. If she is rescheduling, late or on her comm so often during these times then she'll just be removed from these positions/committees. And her boss aka the queen of Naboo getting these reports and comming her "hey so this isnt looking good. Palpatine always gave u glowing reports but obviously cant trust those so if this is how u really are then u will be recalled. This is a warning. Thx."

man y’all just want me to keep swinging at the hornets nest huh

all right let me get my bat

Naboo is a beautiful planet. There’s so much greenery and water everywhere that even after so much time, Anakin can’t help but marvel at it all. Back when he was a little slave kid on Tatooine, he’d never even imagined he’d end up someplace like this on a beautiful planet with a beautiful wife. Sure, the Jedi thing fell through, but whatever. He doesn’t need them--he’s got Ahsoka and Qui-Gon, which is everyone who matters. Nobody else really understood him anyways, and they had to make such a big deal out of his marriage when it wasn’t their business to begin with. He’s doing better now as a pilot and mechanic and occasional bounty hunter, and he’s helping people and seeing the galaxy the way he never would have been able to with the Jedi.

The point is, he’s pretty sure kid him would be happy with how he turned out.

The war’s been officially over for nearly seven months now--a distant memory of frantic battles and daring rescues. Here on Naboo, it’s like it never happened at all. It’s peaceful like Coruscant could never be and there’s none of the turmoil that he’d seen all over the galaxy back in the war and the months afterwards. It’s perfect, but of course it is--it’s Padmé’s home. His, too, now.

He’s working on another project in his workshop--he has a personal workshop now, no more sneaking droid parts into his room--and it’s going good. It’s a new droid for Padmé, for their rapidly approaching anniversary. C3PO is great and all, but he wasn’t really made for Senatorial stuff. He’s way better at this stuff than he was when he was a little kid, and he can make a droid that’s perfect for everything Padmé needs--a translator, a protector, an archivist. Anything to makes it easier for her to do what she needs and come home at night, safe and sound.

Thinking about it makes him miss her again. She’s out on another assignment--part of a diplomatic envoy to negotiate some trade agreements between Naboo and a few nearby systems. It’s scheduled to take eight days, and it’s already been three--he’d commed her yesterday night and it sounds like things aren’t going great. They’ve requested Jedi assistance to mediate the agreement, and as much as Anakin definitely doesn’t miss all that diplomacy stuff, he kind of wishes he could be a Jedi again just to go see her. He’d thought that after the war and they moved in together everything would be good and it has been, but still, Padmé’s work means that she’s away from home so often and even with Anakin’s freelancing, they just...don’t get to spend as much time together as they want.

He’s assembling parts for the lower chassis on Padmé’s new droid when he hears the muffled sound of the front door opening. Anakin pauses, then gets up to see what’s going on, his hand hovering at the blaster on his belt.

Padmé is there in the entryway, hurriedly taking her shoes off.

“Angel?” Anakin says.

Padmé pauses, then looks up and smiles at him. It looks a bit strained. “Ani. I thought you were out on another job.”

Through the Force, Anakin can feel her anxiety--enough that it’s making him antsy, too. “My job finished early. Padmé, what’s wrong? Did something happen? What about the trade agreements you were working on?”

“I’m not,” Padmé says. “I’ve been reassigned.”

“Reass--What? They can’t just reassign a Senator, can they?” Anakin says. “Why would they do that? They need you, don’t they?”

“Apparently, they don’t,” Padmé replies tightly. Anakin reaches out to help her out of her coat, but she steps back, keeping it on.

“What happened?”

“The negotiations turned sour, we requested Jedi assistance, and they’ve assigned a different ambassador from Naboo to take over proceedings. They’re worried that my...connections to the Jedi Order will impact their ability to reach an agreement suitable for all parties involved, so I’ve been reassigned.”

Anakin pauses. “Does that mean you can stay home for a little while?”

“No, I’ve got--there’s something else that I need to do,” Padmé says, and she’s lying. “I’m busy still, I’m just making a quick stop. I didn’t realize you were already here, Ani.”

Anakin is frozen. He can feel the lie hanging around her like a bad smell. Why would Padmé lie to him? They never lie to each other.

Padmé tries to move past him and he grabs her by the wrist. “Angel,” he says. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“I--” Padmé says. “Ani, of course not.”

“Then what’s going on?” Anakin asks. “Why are you so nervous? We’re home, we’re together. That’s a good thing.”

“Of course that’s a good thing, but I can’t stay. I’ve got another assignment and--”

“You don’t!” Anakin shouts. “I know you’re lying! Tell me what’s going on!”

Padmé flinches, pulling her arm from Anakin’s grip. “Ani, there’s nothing going on. I just wanted to...stay somewhere else for a little while. I was going to pick up some of my things. That’s it, I promise.”

Anakin lets out a sigh of relief. She’s just stressed out from work, that’s all. Of course that’s all. “That’s it? Why didn’t you just say so, angel? If you need a vacation, we can pick anywhere in the galaxy you want. It’s perfect timing, too, and we can stay there for our anniversary...”

“No,” Padmé says softly. “Not us.”

Anakin blinks. “I...what? But it’s our anniversary soon, and--”

“I wanted to be alone for a little while,” Padmé says. “To think about things. And rest.”

“You can do those things with me, can’t you?” Anakin says. “There’s a beautiful ocean moon I visited during one of my jobs, we could go there and you’d be able to rest and think as much as you need to and--”

Padmé lays a hand flat on his chest and pushes him back. “Anakin. You’re not listening to me. I want to be alone.”

Anakin feels like his mind’s grinding to a halt. There’s something churning in his stomach, anticipation for a ship crash that hasn’t quite happened yet. “Angel, I don’t understand. Why don’t you want to be together? I thought we loved each other.”

“I do love you. You’re wonderful and everything I could have ever hoped for,” Padmé says, and she’s telling the truth. “But Ani, I’m not happy.”

Anakin feels like the floor’s fallen out from under him. “You...are you trying to break up with me?”

Padmé shakes her head vigorously. “No, Ani, no. That’s not--I need some space for a little while, that’s all. I just...I need to figure out what’s going on. Between us. What we’re doing. Where we should go from here.”

“We should go together,” Anakin says. “Have a family, be together forever, just like we promised each other at the wedding.”

“One day, maybe,” Padmé replies, “but I’m not ready for all that right now and I need to figure out what’s between here and there. Please, Ani, it’ll just be a few weeks, and I’ll be back. Everything will be back to normal. Everything will be good.”

Padmé moves past Anakin towards the bedroom and Anakin follows after her. He feels...bad. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. They fight sometimes--just over little things, because every couple fights over things sometimes--but it was never supposed to come to this. Padmé was never supposed to leave him.

“What brought all this on?” He asks as she packs her things into a decent-sized travel bag. “I thought everything was good. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

Padmé doesn’t answer straight away. She continues loading clothes into her bag--traveling clothes, Anakin notes. Definitely not going on an official Senate thing, then. “Things are good, Ani. It’s just...I’m tired. I’ve been tired for a long time.”

“You’ve been working too much,” Anakin agrees. “The Senate is giving you too much to do--you’re amazing and perfect, but you’re only one person.”

Padmé laughs, and there’s something a little bitter about it. “Well, that’s not a problem anymore. Maybe things will get a little better now.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Padmé finishes packing her clothes and moves on to some of her other items. Toiletries, makeup, a blaster pistol with extra battery packs. “The Senate’s been...unhappy with some of my recent work,” she says softly. “You remember, right? Mon talked to me after the Alderaan mission--checking up on the clones. After some recent incidents, she decided it was best if that position got assigned to someone else, like Riyo.”

For a moment, that makes Anakin burn. He doesn’t really have a problem with Mon Mothma being the new Supreme Chancellor, but some of the things she does really gets him heated. Palpatine would never have taken Padmé off of a job that was so important to her. Of course, Palpatine was also a Sith Lord, and a traitor, and corrupt, and--

That’s got nothing to do with it. Palpatine had his heart in the wrong place and he’d done some things wrong, but that didn’t make him completely evil. Evil people didn’t make friends with people and listen to them and help them and make them feel better. That’s just not how the world works. Palpatine would have helped Padmé like he always did.

“I’ll talk to her,” Anakin says. “She’ll see you’re the best person for the job--of course you’d be the best, and it’s such an important assignment for you--”

“Ani, no. I’ve already talked to her, and I think she’s right,” Padmé says. “I’m not giving everything I can for the clones. They don’t deserve that, and Riyo will do a wonderful job with them. I just need some personal time to focus, and now is the perfect opportunity.”

Anakin clenches his fists, caught between the ideas of Padmé having the position that’s so important to her and her getting the break she desperately needs. He doesn’t want Padmé to leave in either case. He wants Padmé at home, with him. Or out in the galaxy, with him. It doesn’t matter as long as he can be with her, but she’s not giving him that option.

“What am I supposed to do when you’re gone? I’ll be alone without you,” Anakin says.

Padmé looks back up at him. “Ani, you’re not alone. You can go back to Coruscant for a little while and spend time with people you haven’t seen lately. You have Ahsoka and Qui-Gon and...Rex and the others, too. You don’t have to spend all your time with me.”

“I don’t want to go back to Coruscant and the Jedi, I want to spend my time with you,” Anakin says. “Where are you going?”

“Sabé has some kind of surprise lined up for me.” Padmé closes her bag with a snap.

“Sabé? Your handmaiden?”

“My former handmaiden,” Padmé confirms, hefting her bag. There’s something unmistakably warm in the Force around her, and something about it makes Anakin’s heart clench. “I think she’s planning to take me somewhere I’ve never been before--we used to talk about it when we were younger.”

Anakin knows so many of Padmé’s expressions and emotions, but he’s not sure what he’s feeling around her now--it’s soft and pleased in a way that it never is when she’s with him, and that’s not...that’s not right. He should be the one to make her feel happy, not some former handmaiden.

“Do you and Sabé spend a lot of time together?” Anakin asks. “Like when you’re not home? When you’re working?”

“Of course I spend time with her. Sabé is a very good friend,” Padmé says.

“You’d rather go traveling with her than with me?”

“Ani, this doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Padmé lies.

Of course this has something to do with him. This has everything to do with him. After all, if it wasn’t, why would Padmé be...sneaking out? Getting too friendly with her handmaiden, her childhood friend?

Padmé would never...would she?

“You can’t do this!” Anakin pleads. “What does she have? She doesn’t love you like I do! She can’t make you happy like I do!”

“You’re not making me happy at all!” Padmé snaps, fury sparking in her like an ion blast. “You’re suffocating, Anakin! You make it hard for me to do my job, you don’t listen to me, you’re so jealous! I’m tired of fighting all the time! I’m tired of you being angry at me all the time over the smallest things! I love you so much, I really do, but you make it so hard to be with you!”

Anger lights in Anakin’s soul and he grabs Padmé around the shoulders. "And you think Sabé is better than me? This is our anniversary! This is supposed to be our time together, and you want to...run off with your handmaiden on some joyride around the galaxy?”

“This is not a joyride, Anakin, this is something I need personal time for!”

“Personal time with Sabé!” Anakin shouts. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Padmé! You’re my wife. We’re supposed to be devoted to each other, and you’re leaving me behind? I love you, Padmé.”

“I know how you feel, but have you ever stopped to ask how I feel? Have you ever thought about what I want?” Padmé retorts sharply. “Why can’t I work without you constantly texting me? Why can’t I spend some time with my friends without you hovering over my back? Why do you have to always assume the absolute worst of me--that I’d cheat on you the instant your back is turned?”

“Is that not what’s happening?” Anakin says. “You love her! I can feel it in the Force--you love Sabé in a way you’ve never loved me. Was all this just a lie?”

Padmé’s face twists into something so angry and without warning, she slugs him in the stomach so hard that he doubles over, gagging.

“Love isn’t just one thing, Anakin,” she says. “If you’re going to tell me I can’t love my best friends, if you think that somehow makes our love less valuable, then maybe this love isn’t worth it.”

“Padmé, no, don’t say that,” Anakin coughs. He feels like he’s been punched through the chest. He feels like his heart is being torn apart. He hasn’t felt this way since his mother died.

“I’m leaving. If you follow me, this is over--I can’t keep doing this. I’ll comm in three weeks and we’ll figure out where we can go from there.”

With that, Padmé turns on her heel and leaves.

Anakin squeezes his fist to his chest, leaning against a bedpost as he tries to catch his breath. There’s a storm building in Padmé’s wake, a horrible force of nature that can’t be contained. He hears the Mind Healers advice to step back from the situation and evaluate things objectively. He hears Qui-Gon’s voice telling him to release his anger, release his frustration, release his sorrow, but he can’t. He can’t.

The Force whips around him like a sandstorm, ripping at his skin and clothes and face. It hurts--it hurts like the pain in his chest made physical and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t talk to Padmé--she’s gone, now. He can’t talk to Palpatine--he’s dead, murdered by the Jedi. He can’t talk to Qui-Gon or Ahsoka--they’re Jedi, they wouldn’t understand feelings like this. They wouldn’t care.

He fumbles his commlink out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts. He needs to talk to someone. He needs someone to hold him down, someone to drain this poison and make things right.

He comms Rex.

#star wars #fanfic #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #fic: asynchronous circuit #jessepinwrites #Anonymous #ask jesse

[plush-rabbit]

Can I Ask You Something?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |  Part 7 |

You don’t bring up his days of absence. You’re content knowing that you might not ever know why he left and why he was so vulnerable to you days later. There are times when the phone calls have grown silent that you want to ask him what happened, the question on the tip of your tongue but the nerve to ask never comes. The words begin and die in you and you’re forced to make a joke or ask him a question about a game before the need to ask consumes you.            

He’s been different too. More guarded about the way he speaks, words tight and closed, until you have to go away, and then suddenly he’s asking more about you, wondering where you’re going, who you’re going out with, pressing deeper until you’re laughing off his worries and telling him that you’ll message him later- a promise that you will. It calms him for the time being until your phone blows up an hour later asking where you are and you have to respond while your friends send you raised eyebrows before turning to each other and snickering and joking that you have a possessive partner. You roll your eyes at the partner part, waving them off and denying it, sending a rushed out message that you’re still out and another promise that you’ll message him when you’re home. The messages will stop for another hour until your phone is buzzing and you have to stifle your laughter as you ease his worries. Because that’s what it is- it’s worry. You tell yourself that it’s worry, that as friends who don’t hang out, of course he’d be worried if you were out.

You brought up his worry one day. You were careful with your words, not wanting to accuse him of anything, not wanting to push him further away from you. Treading carefully and forcing the words out before you had the chance to bow out. There’s a part of you that realizes that that isn’t a good thing. You shouldn’t have to tread carefully in a friendship- or in whatever you can call this. This friendship isn’t balanced- he holds too much power in this relationship and you have to wonder if he realizes it too.

__

“Hey, Tomu?” You ask, raising your voice as you wash the dishes, the water loud and rushing.

He grunts in response, background sounds of a slashing sound followed by grunts of pain, are distant and loud all at once.

“Why,” you wet your lips and scrub harder at the knife in your hand, “Why do you get so nervous every time I go out?”

His reply is instantaneous. “I don’t get worried.”

You roll your eyes. “Tomura, come on. Every time I go out, my phone always blows up every hour. And look,” you rush to say the next part before he has a chance to interrupt, “it’s not like I don’t mind. I’m glad that you care about me. It’s sweet, but what’s up?”

He silent and your eyes constantly flicker to the phone, waiting for him to respond and the knife in your hand slips and clatters among the empty glasses. “What was that?”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. You don’t have answer. I just- I’m glad you care about me in your like little, weird ways,” you chuckle, an attempt to lighten the mood, “but, I’m fine when I go out. I’ve gone out before and I’ve been fine then.” You don’t want to push him. He’s obviously not comfortable with the topic and the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “It was a knife by the way. I’m washing dishes and it slipped.”

“Are you okay?” He sounds hesitant when he speaks and you frown.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m more worried about the glasses really.” He hums on his end. “Tell me about your day?” You suggest, rubbing your face with the back of your hand and letting out an annoyed sigh when water drops slide down your arm.

“Nothing special. Just sat around with… people I know. And kept track of the news.” He says, a whispered curse on the end of the sentence. “I won’t push as much with the questioning next time.”

You shut the tap off and flick water from your hands. “I’m- Look, I really do appreciate that you care. I’m glad to have a friend like you Tomura.” You pat your hands dry and grab the phone. “Anyways, changing topics. You seem to watch the news a lot, huh?”

“Don’t you?” He says, voice filled with sudden interest.

“Nah, I can’t. I mean obviously I will when it’s something major but most of the things on the news are like about villains and heroes and I rather not get into it.”

“You don’t like heroes?” His interest is rising with a sharp tongue.

“Um, it’s not that. I mean I’m sure there are some good heroes out there, like All Might—”

His snort cuts you off. “All Might is a fucking sham.” You can hear the hate in his voice, his words snapping out and cutting you off from further continuing your last statement.

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say. The hatred oozes out of his voice and you can tell that if you press on the topic, it won’t lead anywhere good. “I mean, I wouldn’t know. I don’t personally know him so I can’t make any judgment other than like what he shows on media. But every other hero is kind of like… How do I put it? Um, I guess they only do it for the fame? If that makes sense? Like you can tell when a hero saves people to save people versus when they save someone to like make themselves look good.” He’s silent. “I, um, you know, I’m the mood for some pho. You’ve ever had pho? It’s so good. There’s this nice restaurant nearby but I prefer to eat it at home.” You want the conversation to change. Your gut is telling you to change it, to move forward before something breaks and you can’t fix it no matter how much you try. You talk fast, hoping he’ll drop the previous topic and listen to you ramble. You hold your breath as you wait for him to reply.

“I think I’ve had it once,” he says after a moment. “Can’t really remember.” In the background you hear a creaking of the door and muffled speaking. He comes back clicking his tongue and the conversation has changed to the game he’s playing. You want to bury the anxiety in your stomach but you can’t, it remains unearthed and exposed. The back of your phone heats up, leaving a warm spot on your bed and you have to say goodbye, telling him that you’ll talk again soon. You end the conversation with a sore jaw and a melancholic silence that shrouds you like a thick, stuffy blanket.

__

It’s a nice day out, a bit chilly with a sun that gets covered by thick, slow moving clouds that provides perfect shade. A gentle breeze ruffles your hair and makes the leaves on the ground dance in a low twirl.

You stand next to the steps of your apartment, eyes searching for your friend and hands in pockets, one tightened around your phone waiting for a notification. You smile at your neighbor as they walk up the steps, and continue to watch the streets. In your pocket, your phone buzzes, and you pull it out quickly, swiping the screen and sticking your tongue out when it’s just Tomura’s message.

Tomura:

[Where are you going?]

You:

{Friends and I are just gonna buy like a bunch of snacks and hang out}

{We’ll probs watch movies or like anything that we can}

{I’ll be back later lmao so don’t miss me too much ༼♥ل͜♥༽ }

Tomura:

[Whatever]

You smirk and shake your head. In the corner of your eye, a car slows to a stop and you look up. The window lowers and you see the face of your friend who waves at you and beckons you to get inside.

You:

{Okay, I’m going out. I’ll probably talk to you later(^-^)ゝ}

-

Shigaraki doesn’t know why he’s suddenly on your case about your whereabouts. Why he needs to know if you’re home or not or if you’re still out with your friends. He tells himself that he doesn’t know why. He can be such a good liar when he wants to be. Lies that slip out of his tongue without a second thought. Lies that you’ll accept and believe, never one to pry unless he slips and even then you’re telling him it’s fine, that he doesn’t have to answer. You’re naïve. You’re too trusting to someone you’ve never officially met before. It’s an odd thing that he’s never encountered.

But he can’t lie to himself. He can’t bring himself too. He won’t allow himself. His truth will always scream at him, cover him in blood, and leave him biting on his abused lips. He’s gotten attached to you. He’s sick. He loves your trust in him, your naivety. He loves that you’ll accept anything that he tells you without a second thought. He’s infatuated with it. Obsessed with it. He wants this feeling to be sick. He needs it to be sick. He needs to believe that he still has control over himself- that someone as ordinary as you can’t make him feel soft. Can’t make him long for something he doesn’t even know what it is he’s longing for.

He knows why he needs to know. He’s attached to you. Attached how you say his name, how you call him a friend, how you never get mad at him, you never express any negative emotion other than light chastising. He tried to separate himself, he tried to decay his phone, to throw it against a wall, to do anything that would cut you off. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He doesn’t want to care about you. But you would still care about him. You’ll still offer yourself to him. He can’t leave you and it’s killing him.

He doesn’t know what this feeling is. He doesn’t know if it’s infatuation, lust, love, obsession. Every time he thinks about it, his head hurts and he wants to vomit. He wants to destroy something. He doesn’t know.

You hold power over him- a civilian holds power over him and it’s laughable and pathetic all at once.

But then you voice your concerns and he can fix that. He can change the way he speaks. But your concerns are still masked with concern for him- appreciation for him. And his mind is a mess.

You’re going out. You’re going to shop for an hour, go to your friends and spend the day there and late at night, you’ll be home. It’s enough time for the plans to be executed without risking you being caught in the crossfire. Enough time that he can make sure you stay safe.

The sun begins to set casting an orange and pink glow across the sky and the plan is now in preparation. He reads your message. He is going to miss you. He won’t say it out loud- won’t even admit it to himself but he’ll miss you.

__

The plan is executed without any major hiccups. Things go according to plan and he can feel city crumble little by little underneath his touch. He’s smiling wide underneath his mask as the League returns to the base and he can’t wait to indulge himself with you- can’t wait to tell you the truth and say he had a productive day, a great day even.

He waits for your message while having drinks with the League, an untouched drink with melting ice sits in front of him and he listens to harsh laughter and as they recount their version of the story. He checks his phone waiting for a message from you, growing impatient and sick. He’s suffocating while being surrounded by others. With shaky hands, he pulls Father off and lays him next to the untouched drink.

It’s late. Late enough for you to be home already. It’s late and you promised to message him- yet you haven’t. He grinds his teeth.

“Hey Shigaraki! Are you all right? You keep checking your phone, you doing okay?” Twice asks, white eyes narrowing and widening as he talks, legs bouncing underneath the table causes the amber liquid to swish in the glass cup.

“Quit shakin’ the table Twice,” Dabi mutters, throwing the harsh liquid down his throat. “He’s probably just playing some fucking game or whatever.”

Red eyes narrow and fingers underneath the table twitch to reach over to Father. He wants to open his mouth and snap put a comment but instead he holds his tongue, going back to check his phone which is still silent and devoid of any notifications from you.

“Oh, maybe he has a new friend?” Toga asks, running a hand down her hair, looking up at Shigaraki with a cheeky smile.

Shigaraki can feel his patience thinning when Dabi snorts. “Oh I’m sure it’s a new friend,” he says with knowing grin. Blue eyes rival his own red ones, and despite everything, Shigaraki freezes with a finger over his phone and a held tongue.

His feet plant on the floor and just as he’s about to rise, his phone vibrates. “Fuck off,” he mutters, slipping the phone into his pocket and grabbing Father, nails digging into it as he walks away. He doesn’t look at his phone until he’s in the privacy of his room.

In his room, he’s almost giddy, hands shaking as he unlocks his phone, Father placed gently on his side, the side of his hand gently touching his thigh.

There’s no message from you. It’s just a notification for a game he plays, informing him that an event is about to end. He frowns. He pulls up your messages and look at the last message you sent. The blinking cursor mocks him.

“It’s late. They probably fell asleep,” he tries to reason to himself, hands curling in on themselves and neck starting to itch.

He checks his phone obsessively throughout the night, waiting for you to message him until his eyes bur and head hurts- a dull throbbing pulse that makes it harder for him to think rationally. He’s sent you messages starting off with a simple greeting moving to a more direct questioning about what you’re doing. He still gets no reply from you. His phone blinks red at him, notification popping and screen dimming as it alerts him that his battery is running low.

He can feel acid rise up in his throat and eyes twitch as his mind is flooded with obsessive thoughts. He wants to- needs to know where you are. Why haven’t you answered him? Why- Hands freeze in place and bright red lines decorate his pale skin.

“You’re busy. That’s it. You’ll message me again.” It’s the mantra that he tells himself, repeating it like a prayer, begging and reassurance to himself that he’ll wake up with a message from you tomorrow.

__

You don’t reply until late in the evening. Your messages are sent right after the other, buzzing loudly on his wooden desk. He sneers at the phone and wants to make you wait. He waited for you so it’s only fair you should wait for him. But the more his phone buzzes, the more his resolve weakens. The more his curiosity wins over and phone is displaying your messages right after the other.

You:

{Hey!!}

{Oh my god, I’m so sorry I didn’t message last night but oh my god!!}

{You’ll like never believe what happened!!}

{I’ll give you a hint}

{It involves me and a villain attack;)}

His eyes shoot open and he’s pressing the call button without thinking. His breathing is ragged and blood is pumping throughout his body. He’s tense and shaking all at the same time, muscles tightening painfully and bottom lip between teeth and he can taste iron.

You answer on the first ring.

“Tomura!” You sound happy about getting to talk to him. Why? “Never thought I’d see the day you called me without having to ask. What’s the occasion?” You sound coy.

“Villain attack?” He rasps out, eyes into narrow slits, bottom lip red and plump.

“Oh god. It was like… wild!” Your voice is growing distant and he can’t think. He can’t hear his thoughts. He can’t hear your words. Father is on his face and he still feels sick. You’re babbling in the background. You’re telling him important information and all he can do is sit there as his mind is clouded and stomach is twisting into knots and his mouth is acidic and burns.

He can’t think. Words leave his mouth before he can even register them, before he can even think about he’s doing. “Video chat.”

“Vid- Oh! Sure!” You sound excited. “You still have my user right? I’ll send you a call in a second!”

You hang up. The room is loud, filled with his heart pumping erratically and blood pumping in his ears. He wants to retch. He clicks the video icon and scratches at the desk as he waits for the site to load, the sick feeling in his stomach growing until he feels like he’s in pain.

Your profile picture takes up the screen and instincts take over. He clicks the accept button and your face appears on screen.

You’re fixing your hair, and you take a swig from your water bottle, tossing it to the side. Your eyes dart to the side and glance at the screen, visibly brightening up when you see the call has been accepted. “Hey!” You’re smiling at him and you have a bandage on your cheek. “I’m surpri- Oh.” Your face falls and you look visibly taken aback, eyes blinking owlishly at him. Your voice is quieter as you speak, “Hey Tomura.”

He squints at you and you point a finger to your face, your mouth parted slightly open with eyes wide. He’s confused, why would- Oh. His covers his own face, arching to make room for Father but he isn’t there. How would you even know- Fuck. His eyes dart to the corner of the screen and his image stares back at him. He looks at you and face twists into something unpleasant, an insult on the tip of his tongue.

“Are—” you clear your throat— “Are you not comfortable with me seeing your face yet?” You look to the side and cover your side vision with your hand. “I can pretend I didn’t see!”

You saw him. You saw him and you’re not ending the call. You’re sitting there with a hand covering your peripheral vision as a courtesy to him. He swallows and for an odd reason, he doesn’t feel as sick as he did prior.

“It’s fine.” He says, tongue clicking and mouth dry. “Put your hand down. You look dumb.”

You chuckle and look back at him, gaze softening and eyes scanning his face. You frown and he frowns.  “Your neck is red. Are you okay?”

“It’s a quirk thing.” He says without thinking, an automatic reply.

“Oh. Okay. As long as you’re okay.” The way you pout and continue to stare at his neck shows that you don’t believe him. This is a new type of vulnerability- one that he’s never experienced before and it makes him feel weird all over. “I uh- Wow. I’m sorry. I’m staring, that’s so rude of me. I just- I’ve never seen you and you look- wow.”

He remembers the first video call and how he wanted to see you squirm, to make you uncomfortable with his harsh voice that would mock you. He wonders if this is how you felt. Odd and wanting to hide. But you aren’t condescending. You’re just looking at him and frowning whenever your eyes dart to his scarred neck.

“You know, if it’s a quirk thing, I think aloe vera might help. I prefer to get it from the plant and like chill it in the fridge. It helps a lot with redness and stuff. Or you could always look up tips online—” Your eyes widen and mouth pulls into a thin line as your face turns a bight red. “Oh god! I didn’t mean to like make you feel uncomfortable or anything! It’s just— I get that some quirks can have a side effect and—”

“What happened to your face?” He needs to know.

“Heh, of course.” You wave yourself off. “God, this was so dumb of me.” You take in a deep breath. “Okay, so like halfway through our movie night my friend gets a notification that there’s this like mini festival out in a park and it isn’t all that late so we go. Anyways! Long story short, we go and spend time there and I go get some lemonade- which I like dropped and hate myself for it because it was so good Tomura!” He gives you a look and you give him a sheepish smile. “Okay, back to the story, I get lemonade and there’s like this big explosion sound and people are running and I’m a very panicky person so I kind just freeze and then I’m shoved and I start running in the direction people are like basically leading me in but I stumble and trip and I skin my knee and like I’m hoisted up by someone and like the next thing I know is there’s blue fire and like I feel like I’m seeing double because I see double! But that could be because I fell but whatever. And like I realize ‘Oh! These people have a death wish!’ Which I mean same, but like damn. So I try to run back to the little festival thing to find my friends but I get shoved and I fall again and I my cheeks gets like a bit cut up—” you motion to the bandage on your face— “And my friends find me and we go back to my friends place and my phone like ran out of battery and I didn’t have my charger and yeah.” You exhale and smile at him. “The end!” You still look chipper as you end your story.

He’s silent. Blue flames. For fuck’s sake. He’s furious. Furious at Dabi. Furious at you. Furious at the people who pushed you there. Furious at himself. He wants to drag his hand across his body and rip out his skin. He wants to wrap his hands around you and watch as you decay. He wants to start a fight with Dabi. You fucking saw double. You fucking saw Twice or his stupid fucking clones. He wants to fucking—

“Tomura?” Eyes snap at you and you flinch, eyes wide and hands in front of you as if to protect yourself. He spares a glance at the corner of the screen and finds himself to look twisted with bared teeth and eyes that have gone dark. “Are-Are you okay? You look a bit sick. Listen, I didn’t meant to worry you or anything, I just didn’t want to lie to you.”

“I,” his voice is strained and stomach churns, “I’m not worried.”

“Tomura, come on. It’s okay to worry. We’re friends.” You give him a soft smile and inch closer to the screen. “If you got hurt, I’d be worried too.” He’s biting the inside of his cheeks. “I’m fine. I wasn’t even hurt by the villain attack and I hardly saw anything, just the aftermath,” your voice is soft, much softer than before- you’re trying to calm him down. “I’m okay Tomura. All I have is a skinned knee and cheek.”

Shigaraki takes a shaky breath and the red in his vision begins to fade. “Fuck the people who tripped you,” he spits out.

“Yeah, but what can you do. People like to be involved in things and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only thing I’m really sad about is the lemonade.” You stick out your tongue and with closed eyes, you lean against the bedframe.

“You face is fucked up and you care about the stupid drink?”

“Tomu,” you whine, “you don’t understand! It was so good and the right amount of sweetness and sourness,” your face forms into a pout and shoulders slump, “I hadn’t even drank like half of it.”

His eyes are trained on your face, tracing over the bandage with frayed edges. “Why are you wearing the stupid bandage if you’re not that hurt?”

“Oh! My friends were worried it might get infected so I’m leaving it on until I have to get some sleep.” Your fingers played with the edges of the bandage, flicking the edges and scratching at the corners of it. “Anyways, enough about me!” You clasp your hands together and smile at him. “You look a lot different that I would’ve imagined!”

“Last time I asked what you thought I looked like, you said that was a dumb question.” Now that his emotions have calmed down, he hates what you did to him. He hated the anxiety that you brought upon him.

“Well yeah, but I never would’ve imagined you had red eyes!” You squint at him and give him a teasing smile. “It makes you look edgy but like a cool edgy.” You giggle at your own comment behind your hand.

“I do not look edgy.” He wants to get mad and brush you off but you’re here and you saw him and you’re not turning your nose up in disgust, you’re not screaming or ending the call- you’re calling him edgy and smiling at him.

“Yeah you do.” You cock your head to the side and examine him. He wants to hide his face but then you would leave, and he doesn’t want to let you go- he can’t. “You have that cute little scar, long hair, a raspy voice— Oh my god, you’re an e-boy!”

His breath gets stuck in his throat and hands flinch and curl in on themselves. “Not an e-boy,” he mutters, curling his upper lip. “I fucking hate you,” he spits out.

“No, you don’t,” your voice takes on a lilt, and he wants to log off the call. “You care about me because I’m your friend.” You stick your tongue out at him and give him a wide grin.

He doesn’t hate your smile. He wants to see more of it. He wants you to smile more at him. “Whatever dumbass,” he mutters as he tries to stop the slow upward curve of his lips.

“Well I’m glad that me getting injured meant that I got to see your face.” You give a fake cough and clear your throat. “I know you probably didn’t want to show me because you even look startled about it, but I uh, I appreciate it. I know you probably don’t want my app—”

“Thanks.” He runs a hand over his throat, the pads of his fingers rubbing over the thin wounds.

He likes your smile. He likes the way you lean into the screen when he talks, always smiling and looking at him. He wants more of it. He needs more of it. He doesn’t know how he got so attached. Was it the late night calls? Was it you treating him like a normal person when he isn’t? You got hurt. You got hurt because he miscalculated. You’re hurt. But you worried about his neck. You averted your eyes when you saw him. You wanted to give him privacy. He needs to keep you safe. He needs to not make it weird. He needs to protect you. Oh fuck. His heart is beating rapidly and he’s scared that it’ll stop any second. He wants you to stop smiling at him but he can’t get enough of it. He can’t get enough of you.

“I think we should meet up,” he says without thinking.

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side and he wants to take his words back. “Are you sure? I’m cool with waiting—”

“I’m sure.” He’s shaking but he maintains eye contact with you. He feels a shiver go up his spine when you smile at him.

“Okay,” you nod, “we can meet up. You got a date in mind Tomura?”

“How—”

“Wait! Do we even live close to each other?”

He nods his head and wet his lips. He utters the city name and you visibly brighten and exclaim that it isn’t so far. You talk and ramble, planning out things and looking at your calendar to check when you’re free. You’re smiling at him and you’re excited to see him and you won’t stop talking about the things you could do together. His bites the inside of his cheeks to prevent the smile from taking over and he doesn’t know how to feel.

Tagged:

@rogueofbullshit

@loveableasshole

@yul-is-sparkling

@noonewouldlisten25

@noodlenerd101

@localdisaster

@snackgod

@iikillerkitteh

@ drapetomaniaac

@shigaraki-is-my-master

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki bnha #bnha shigaraki tomura #can i ask you something #ciays #do i still have to link things? #god #this story is getting long #sorry for the slow burn #this qualifies as slow burn right? #probs #okay #bye! #sorry if i tagged you and you didn't want to be #just let me know and ill take you out #i can never find part 2 #rip

[creepy-spooghetti]

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 10 - Tag, You’re It

_____

Jack doesn't return for several minutes, though she can hear the sound of muffled talking from the confines of another room nearby. The words are incoherent and muffled, but considering that there's nobody else in this house that she knows of, she guesses that he's on the phone, mostly based on the fact that the only voice she can hear is Jack's. She ponders what he said to her and tucks her knees into her chest, trying to tame the steadily rising fear that's making itself more and more apparent in her chest.

She knew from the beginning of all this chaos that there had to be a deeper meaning buried beneath the surface, even though she didn't want to acknowledge it and instead opted to come up with valid explanations for everything that happened, reasons that wouldn't make her seem crazy. But now? Now, it doesn't look like she has another option but to accept it. She has to admit, Jack made some pretty reasonable points, even if the points in question take a great suspension of disbelief. How else is she supposed to explain the things that have taken place over the past several days? She didn't have a clue about what was happening and why it was happening, and now she does. But is it the honest-to-God truth?

Being stalked by some supernatural being is definitely hard to believe, but so is mentally predicting the death of one's aunt and uncle, being kidnapped by someone without eyes, and subconsciously drawing some kind of freaky symbol. She hasn't another explanation for all of the eerie occurrences lately, what else is she supposed to think? At least she's been provided with an answer—whether that answer is correct or not has yet to be solved—but it's still an answer. It's more information than she could ever get out of her grandparents or anyone else. A therapist probably wouldn't even know what's going on with her. This way, she has a theory to go off of, something to build around until she finds something more... realistic. More believable.

Her eyes flick up to Jack as he re-enters the room, being ultimately pulled from her deep thoughts and watching him stuff, what she identifies as a phone, into his pocket. He turns her direction, his uncanny oozing gaze sending goosebumps up the length of her arms. "There will be someone over here in a bit to pick you up and take you to Brian's house. She's bringing a pair of shoes with her, too."

Oh, it's a girl. Maybe I can find some common ground and convince her to let me go. Unless she's trapped here too... She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and sits more naturally in the chair, her feet meeting the hardwood floor and her posture straightening to come across as more intimidating. Granted, she knows she isn't going to intimidate this monster of a man, but it makes her feel a little safer anyway.

"Who is she?" Her words are sharp and straight-to-the-point as she stares up at his tall frame in an attempt to seem, for the most part, fearless.

"Wisteria. Don't get your hopes up, she's almost as bad as Jeff." Releasing a huff, she rolls her eyes though chooses not to respond. "Do you want a glass—no, sorry—do you want a cup of water?" He puts great emphasis on the word 'cup', indirectly reminding her of the way she launched the glass at his head in an attempt to escape previously. It did work out in the end, she supposes, and she would have actually gotten out of this place had Jeff's hellhound for a dog not taken it upon himself to chomp down on her ankle and keep her firmly planted where she laid in the dirt until someone came to retrieve her. That 'someone' being Jeff.

"What, so you can poison me?" She mutters, crossing her arms stubbornly. "I think I'll pass."

"Did you not hear anything I just told you a few minutes ago?" He sighs, running gloved fingers through his copper-brown hair. "If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it by now." Ignoring the dryness in her throat, no doubt from lack of water, she only stares up at him with an obstinate expression, refusing to take anything that he has to offer. After a couple of moments, he too crosses his arms. "Ya know, it won't do you much good if you dehydrate and end up dying anyway."

"I'd rather dehydrate than trust you with anything." They continue to stare at each other for what feels like minutes when in reality it's only around ten seconds before Jack shakes his head in defeat.

"Fine. Suit yourself." He takes a seat on the couch, being mindful to keep a fair amount of distance between himself and Y\n, and leans back to get more comfortable. "I know this is a lot to process, but you're gonna have to get used to the fact that you can't go back home. You can't see your family again, it would be too dangerous for both yourself and them."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a warning. You go back home, try to live a normal life, and you eventually snap. You'd be compelled to go to the very thing you've been trying to avoid and kill whoever got in your way. Even if that includes your family." She leers at him through skeptical e\c eyes, comprehending what he's telling her and trying to brush away the feeling of trepidation that rises within her stomach. "It's happened before. I've seen it, too many times to be proud of. It isn't a nice process."

"You're crazy if you actually think I'd kill someone, much less my own family." It's true that she has less-than-desirable parents, but there's no way that she'd ever lose herself enough to physically harm them or take their lives. She isn't a bad enough kid to do something like that, not even under the direst of circumstances. Especially if it involves her grandparents. They've shown her nothing but kindness and support, why on earth would she ever murder them? The very thought sends shivers down her spine.

"Denial is something most people express at first. But it would happen, whether you wanted it to or not." She shakes her head, furrowing her eyebrows together in objection.

"I would never."

"You say that, but you don't know what he's capable of. You don't know how much power he possesses." She averts her gaze to the ground, hugging her torso insecurely and listening to the slightly muffled words that leave Jack's mouth. "He drives you mad. It may start off subtle, maybe you'll have some bad dreams, or minor coughing fits, nothing too concerning. But it will get worse, and worse, and soon you'll be seeing things that aren't there, becoming paranoid because at every turn you feel like something's watching you, but you don't know where or by what. You'll isolate yourself, refuse to talk to anyone, become distant from your friends, your family, society as a whole. And it will continue getting worse, and worse, and worse until you're at your breaking point. You'll just want it all to stop, you'll just want it to be over. You'll be desperate. So you'll listen to him, obey his commands. He'll take you to your breaking point, all without lifting a finger."

The words leave his mouth slowly, making the situation all the more unnerving. There's a sinister kind of truth to what he says that makes an eerie fog blanket her mind in a sense of dread and impending doom. He's right. She knows he's right. There isn't definite proof, but the very tone of his voice and his serious posture tells her right then. He isn't lying. This is real. This is all real, no matter how much she may try to deny it.

Letting out a shaky sigh, she rubs her face with her hands and attempts to slow the rapid beating of her heart. One question floats to the top of all of her thoughts, and she picks it up and analyzes it for a few moments before speaking. "...Why me?" She sees him tilt his head to the side a bit, silently questioning her inquiry and asking for clarification. She happily delivers. "Why, out of seven billion people, does it want me?" She scrapes a hand through her hair in an effort to compose herself, her voice trembling. "What did I do to attract it? I'm just...I'm just a normal person. Why would it want me to do...whatever?"

He takes a few seconds to respond, stringing the words together in his head and coming up with the best possible answer. "I...I don't know." He shrugs lightly, craning his neck toward the couch beneath him. "You told me you had some family issues. He preys on the weak and vulnerable. If you've been going through stressful things, that's likely to be a big contributor to the reason he chose you."

"So you're telling me that I'm being hunted by a paranormal entity because I have garbage for parents?" She chokes down the bile threatening to rise in her throat. "How is that my fault?"

"It doesn't have to be," he simply says, shifting in his seat to better face her. "He's attracted to whoever is at a bad time in life and isn't handling it very well. If you've been stressed, he'll try to get you. It isn't always the victim's fault." Thoughts swarm her mind, though they zip by so quickly she barely has time to process each one before the next one takes its place. But one question manages to stand out above the rest, and she stares at the floor intently.

"But... but I've been going through stuff for years and I haven't had any problems like what's been happening recently until I got here." Her eyes shift up to his featureless, navy-blue mask curiously. "If it wanted me, why didn't it start before?"

"It's difficult to stalk someone and drive them insane when they're in the middle of a city," he says after a moment. "He probably knew about you before, at least to a point, but he couldn't really get to you until you were closer to where he resides." She gulps, eyes glistening with unfallen tears of dismay. "He wanted you more isolated. He can affect you easier that way."

"He's only after me, right?" Worry blooms in her chest and she leans forward absentmindedly. "My... my grandparents aren't a target, too? It's just me?"

"I doubt he'd have anything to do with two people like that, unless..." He pauses, and she presses her lips together in an anxious line.

"Unless?" Her voice holds a sense of distress. "Unless what?"

"Unless..." She can tell he's hesitant to finish his thought, though if it concerns the well-being of Nana and Pops, she won't stand for any unanswered questions. "...well, unless he wanted to use them. To manipulate you."

"How would he do that?" Now fully invested in the conversation, she tries to stabilize her breathing as she stares impatiently at Jack, desperate to get a response.

"He has different tactics. It'd be hard to say which one he'd use on you." Releasing a tremulous breath and trying to ease the nervous pit in her stomach, she clenches her fists.

"Would he hurt them?" For now, she's going to assume both of them are still alive and well, though utterly frantic over her sudden disappearance. Jack hasn't given any proof that he didn't harm them in any way, but she'd rather think about the possibility of life over the possibility of death.

"I don't know. He might."

"Well, then I have to get back to them!" She shoots up from her sitting position, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over her and nearly make her stumble to the floor, but she manages to keep her balance before that can happen. "So let me go."

"Y\n, being irrational isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I'm not being irrational!" She shoots a glare at where he still sits on the couch, starting to limp her way to the front door. "I'm being a good granddaughter. I'm not letting them get hurt." He sighs, a sound that's really beginning to get on her nerves, and slowly stands. She backs away warily in response.

"Your grandparents are fine. He likely won't even do anything that involves them because they're so far away from you now." Just how far away from them is she really?

"Where did you bring me then??"

"I can't tell you. Not yet." He eases closer to her, and she eyes the door. She isn't getting anywhere with her ankle being the way it is, and she knows it. But it's worth another try, right? She darts across the rest of the living room, but before she can even get close to grabbing the knob, a pair of strong arms wrap around her torso and pull her back. Despite her attempts at freedom, his hold doesn't even loosen.

"Let me go, Jack!"

"You already know that isn't going to happen." She lets out an exasperated groan, trying not to put pressure on her injury as she struggles fruitlessly against the tall male currently holding her back and succeeding, much to her displeasure. "You need to calm down."

"How am I supposed to 'calm down'? The only two people who actually give a crap about me are in danger!" She growls, attempting to kick him in the leg or elbow him in the gut, though he skillfully dodges each time and locks onto her tighter, remaining unphased by her actions.

"And you'll be putting them in even more danger if you go back. You heard what I said. Do you really want to hurt your own family?"

"Just shut up! I'd never do something like that. Not if my life depended on it."

"Well, it would. Y\n, you don't understand." He effortlessly spins her around to face him, her neck having to bend upward due to the large height difference between the two of them. She watches the tar-like substance as it leisurely drips from his empty sockets and down his mask before having to glance away. "Once you get to that point, he controls you. He owns you. He can make you do whatever he deems necessary to please him, and you can't stop it." She huffs, biting her bottom lip and holding back distressed tears. "Do you really want that to happen to you?"

She brings both her hands up and pushes harshly against his chest to create some kind of space between them before crossing her arms and sending him a glare, gathering the nerve to look directly into the vacant pits in his head. "I don't want any of this to happen to me," she mumbles, taking deep breaths just to stop herself from crying. "I just want to go home and be with people I love." The words leave her lips as a harsh whisper, voice cracking in the process.

"That can't happen." His tone changes from mildly irritated to sympathetic in an instant, and he takes a small step back in an effort to make her feel more comfortable. "I'm sorry."

She uses the back of her arm to wipe away a stray tear that had begun rolling down her cheek as her gaze lingers toward the hallway. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Jack, or anybody besides her grandparents. She wants out of this mess. At least she knows it isn't her fault, not completely anyway. Not that the thought soothes her very much, but it's something. "...Where's the bathroom?" It comes out as a half-hearted demand, and he answers immediately.

"First door to the right." She nods in silent gratitude and starts walking that way, ignoring the bit of pain that erupts through the bottom half of her leg as she does so. Once inside the desired room, she shuts the door behind her, flicks on the light, and tries to calm her fast, unsteady breathing and erratic heart rate. What is she supposed to do? Take Jack's word for it and stay here? Escape and try to find the way to a police station? Neither option sounds too appealing at the moment. She doesn't forget the words Jeff used before he ever so kindly walked her back to her kidnapper's house.

"Cops don't scare me. I've dealt with way, way worse than guns and tasers."

It sounded like a threat, and given the brief, though memorable, interaction with Jeff she had, it's very probable that's exactly what it was. A threat. Like he was telling her if she managed to break free and get the police involved, he'd hunt her down and wipe out everyone within his path. And it wouldn't bother him a bit. Of course it wouldn't, if he's crazy enough to supposedly carve a smile into his face, then he's crazy enough not to care in the least as he straight-up murders people.

How could somebody be so... twisted? Is it the doing of that thing, the one Jack informed her about? Or is it something totally different? Well, if she's going to be here a while, as she assumes she will be whether she likes it or not, then she'll be sure to gather as many details about the ones that live around here as she can. Maybe she can ask that girl that's supposed to be coming by with shoes, according to Jack. What's her name? Wendy? Whitney? Wanda?

No, dummy, it was a flower. She's named after a flower... Petunia? Lily? She shakes her head in disregard. That isn't even close. The bathroom is small, with a sink counter to her right, a toilet to the side of that, a tub to her left, and a slender cabinet ahead of her, right beside a window. The thought only crosses her mind briefly to use the window to escape; not only is it too high for her to properly reach without some kind of boost, but it's too small for her to even begin trying to squeeze through.

Nausea bubbles in her stomach as she thinks more and more about her hopeless situation. How does she handle this? Her whole existence just got flipped upside-down in the matter of a few hours. She doesn't know where she is, the people around her seem completely off their rocker, and her grandparents are at risk of being hurt, or possibly even killed by some other-worldly creature that she's seen a grand total of once, and that sighting was vague. What about that one time she saw that figure in the woods? The one with the white mask? Was that a hallucination, or was it real too?

She has no way of knowing for sure, and that thought alone makes her want to collapse and cry until she can't anymore about her misfortune. But she won't, not right now. Instead, she throws herself at the sink, desperate to rid herself of the foul taste filling her mouth and swallowing the vomit creeping up her throat. She turns on the faucet and welcomes the cool water that spills out, pressing her lips against it and gulping it down. She savors the pristine liquid as it slips down her throat, bringing an end to the dryness she felt in it prior and relieving her of the discomfort.

Letting out a strangled cough, she turns the faucet off and looks up, only now noticing the large piece of cloth—presumably an old sheet or blanket—covering the area where a mirror usually is placed. She lifts the corner of it up, only to find that there is, indeed, a mirror underneath, but finding herself a bit perplexed. Why would there be a sheet blocking the mirror? Did Jack do it? Does he not like to look at himself?

How would he see himself if he doesn't have eyes? She knits her eyebrows together, sniffling and licking some residual water away from her lips to stop it from dribbling down her chin. But he seems to move around just fine as if he can see where he's going. She's already established that he isn't normal, but just how not-normal is he? How does one see without eyes? Does he have some kind of sixth sense that allows him to somehow know his surroundings? If the whole 'no eyes' thing is only part of his mask, it's definitely fooled her. It looks so... so real. Just like every other aspect of him.

If he's like that, and Jeff is like that, then what do the other ones look like? She knows that there have to be others, Jack made that blatantly obvious by mentioning someone named Brian and the other named...Daisy? No, that's not it either. How much freakier is it going to get for her? Just how many more psychos has she yet to come across? She isn't too eager to find out. Jack's bad enough, and though he hasn't given her any more reason to hate him, the fact still stands that he took her from her house. Not only that, but he drugged her to do so, and before that, tricked her. Lied, right to her face, all to make her think he was trustworthy. Which he clearly is not.

She isn't sure whether to feel mad, betrayed, or a mixture of both. No, the two weren't friends, but they had talked for quite a while and she had told him things about herself that she certainly wouldn't tell some grey-skinned, eyeless thing. Is he even human? He doesn't look like one. She thought that there was a sort of bond that had sparked between the two of them during their encounter, though now she knows it was just a big, dirty trick.

She sighs through her nose, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the counter. Should she have just stayed home? Sure, she didn't really have a choice but to go to her grandparents' house while her mom and dad went wherever their work lead them, but she knows for a fact that her father in particular would have much preferred to keep her away from them. For some reason though, he had still hauled her off to a place she hasn't visited since she was eleven years old. It may have had something to do with Y\n refusing, under any circumstances, to stay at the penthouse with their absolute snob of a nanny, all alone, for God-knows how many weeks on end.

And seeing as how her mother's parents weren't an option, it was either her father's or summer camp. The last time she was at summer camp, she didn't have a very good experience, and pair that with all of the people in a hurry to make fun of her just because they're jealous of her parents' money, yeah, her grandparents were the better option by a long shot. But... if she would have just stayed home, would this have happened? Would Nana and Pops still be safe? Would she still be leading a generally boring, miserable life? Jack said himself that the creature chasing after her wouldn't be able to reach her in a populated area, like a city, and that's why he only now started attacking her. Because she was easy bait.

Is this actually her fault? Could she have avoided all of this had she just stopped being stubborn and stayed put in her home? What if Nana and Pops get killed if they aren't already? All because of her want to reach out to and see family that actually still care about her? Throwing around blame isn't going to help anything. Though that's what she tells herself, she can't help but think about it and feel guilty.

If I'm dreaming, now would be a good time to wake up. It all feels a bit too realistic to be a dream at this point, but she still clings to that little sliver of hope that this whole charade has been something her mind created while she's unconscious, and that soon she'll awake, perfectly healthy in her bed, with no giant noodle man to worry about, or crazy weirdos with masks, or strange dreams, unexplained dizzy spells and coughing fits. No whacky symbols. That would be incredible, even though she knows that really, she's never that lucky. It's all actually happening, and there's no way to escape it.

She doesn't even try to stop the tears that softly slip down her cheeks and make tiny little drip noises when they land in the porcelain bowl beneath her, only huffing in agitation and dipping her head to collect her bearings. And I thought I had a screwed-up life before...

After a few minutes, she's able to compose herself and gather enough courage to step back outside into the hallway, glancing toward the living room and catching sight of Jack on the couch, book in hand, and head craned down as if reading the words on the pages. Now how does that work? She steps forward, and at the sound of another presence nearing, he tilts his head up and meets her eyes with his soulless black pits.

She pauses under his gaze, nerves jumping with unease at his attention before she continues walking, stopping to idly lean against the wall farthest from him. "You okay?" His voice makes her flinch slightly, having not expected him to speak and break the tense silence that had built between them, though she's able to blow it off and act as if nothing happened.

"No," she says, tone harsh as she crosses her arms and drops her gaze down to the floor. "Why would I be 'okay'? This isn't exactly an everyday occurrence."

"I know, I know." He folds his book over and rests it in his lap, slanting forward slightly. "I'm not expecting you to be alright with this. Not for a while, at least." She narrows her eyes at him and presses her lips together. "I just need you to understand that this is your best option. It ensures both your safety and your family's safety."

"You just told me that my family could be used to manipulate me." Her tone is taut and her eyebrows furrow together, peering at him through resentful e\c orbs. "That doesn't sound very 'safe' to me."

"Yes, and then I said he probably won't feel the need to use them at all because you're so far away from where they live." He straightens his posture and tilts his head. "Trust me, going back would be more dangerous."

"And what if he does decide to 'use' them, huh? What then?" It takes a few infuriating moments for him to respond, and she shuffles around on her feet a bit to give him a well-aimed glare. He either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it.

"We'll have to cross that bridge if we come to it." She opens her mouth to complain, to say something along the lines of, 'no freaking way am I standing aside and letting my grandparents become targets for some freak of nature,' but before she can there are three firm raps on the door, coming from the outside. It startles her, and she cautiously averts her gaze to the source of the sudden noise.

Jack moves the curtain to the side and glances out through the window placed directly behind the couch, seemingly checking for who could possibly be at the door. "Relax, it's alright." He stands to his feet and heads toward the wooden portal. She sends him a questioning look, and he motions outside. "Wisteria's here."

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #female reader #Y\n L\n #Eyeless Jack #Jack Nichols #Eyeless Jack x reader #creepypasta x female reader

[naturaldaisaster]

This may be a sacrilegious question for a static quake blog, but what are your thoughts on Sousa and Daisy?

You know what? I will always love Daisy and Lincoln, but y'all know I’m Daisy’s girl through and through, and only want the best for her.  That was why I liked Lincoln.  Here is why I like Sousa, and why I suppose Daisy likes him, too.

(I’m a bit rusty on writing Daisy, forgive me)

+++

She thinks about Lincoln sometimes, but it is far from anything happy, or romantic, or nostalgic.  She thinks mostly about the empty gravesite.  About the call she had to make to his family, and about standing behind a distant tree as his father, and his mother, and his older sister (she never knew he had a sister.  She never knew his mothers name) watched the empty casket lowered into the ground.  She thinks even more often of his body.  If any of it survived.  If things decompose in space, like they do on earth.  

She has a reoccurring nightmare, that she wakes up in his arms.  She knows it is him because he always buzzes, just slightly.  No one but she could sense it — he thought it was because of her ability to control molecular structure.  She usually tuned out when he tried to reason through it all for her — a bit too much science for her taste.  Regardless, she can feel his buzzing body curled around her spine, his arms wrapped lightly around her middle, his fingers tangled through hers.

Calling it a nightmare is perhaps overkill, as that is all it is.  She, in her bed, tangled up in him.  Warm, safe, and home.

The nightmare is when she wakes up alone.

In fact, most all of her worst nightmares have been the waking.  It was better, for a while, when she joined the team.  When she could wake up in her little cot and know Fitz was right next door, that Jemma was just a bit down the way.  

It is a silly fear she learned in foster care — that even if the adults want to comfort you, when you wake screaming in terror, they won’t be there forever.  They may not even be there twice.  That people do not reliably come for you, when you scream, when you are vulnerable.  That it is better not to expect them to at all.  And she is okay with that.  It has made her strong.  

She still feels it, a wrenching ache in the hollow of her gut, every time she wakes up alone.  Her aloneness is an affirmation, a ritual sacrifice to her own strength — or she tells herself so, anyway.  

It was hard to get used to waking up with Lincoln.  It wasn’t that she hadn’t woken up with other people before him.  But it was different, with him.  She knew right from the beginning that he loved her.  She even knew, without acknowledging the sheer danger of it, that he would do anything for her.  Lincoln was hers, in a way no one had been before.  He would be there through every nightmare.

Then he wasn’t, and the cocoon of safe, warm, home that they built in her bed crumbled away, piece by piece.  All that remains is her memory of his skin against hers, and the way wakefulness tears him from her, and now more than ever before she thinks whatever fates there are out there, prefer her alone.  

These are all things that race through her mind as sleep, that constant nemesis, holds her just on the edge of utter helplessness as Malick and his goons circle her with needles and scalpels and worse.  She gets flashes of the doctor, and as she balances on the edge of consciousness, she feels Lincoln there, holding her.  And gone.  There, and gone.  And the doctor, at the edge of her vision, isn’t the doctor at all - but Fitz, and then even he is gone, too.  Jiaying peers over Malick’s shoulder with disappointment, a “didn’t I warn you?” clear on the tip of her tongue.  

She knows there is no way out of this.  Her powers are muffled in her core — she is numb and lightheaded and can’t even find an edge of strength to grasp to, to tear them up out of her.

The room and the uninvited guests in it are starting to spin, now, and all she can do is squeeze her eyes closed tight and wait for the movement to stop.  It doesn’t and she drops her head sideways, pressing her hot cheek into the ice cold table.  It grounds her, and she inhales slow and deep, savoring the momentary stillness, even if pain crowns in her spine.  Pain is real and manageable and physical.  She needs physical.  She needs real.

But the table where she has pressed her cheek is warming, and her body isn’t her ally right now— longing to give into the addling drugs to relieve the pain.  The wall is just beginning to move when she catches the slightest glimpse of something soft and brown peering at her.  Then, the wall blinks, and all of a sudden the picture becomes clear.  Sousa is behind it.  He is there.  He is keeping an eye on her.  

All she can see is that warm brown eye, but when he catches her looking, the wild concern melts into something softer, something that feels like him coming up behind her and pressing his hand firm and polite to the small of her back as he shot the (shockingly, less psychotic) Malick brother the most piercing of warning glares.  He is feet away, but she is wide awake and she feels his drive still intact.  She feels the ghost of his steady hand against her back.

She feels Sousa’s presence there even as the drugs wash her back out into unconsciousness.

Then someone is smoothing her hair, and her head isn’t pressing uncomfortably against cold metal anymore.  Sousa is talking to her— she can feel his voice vibrating in the pit of his stomach, near where she is pressed up against him.  She is having some trouble processing his words — her head is too muddled.  But his fingertips just keep stroking her hair from her face, gentle and soothing and constant, comfort and warmth thwarted only just by the steel handcuffs at his wrists, rattling in her ear.

A sob threatens to tear through her at the ease and insistence of the touch.  At how desperately she wants to tell him to stop, to run, to get as far away from her as possible.  That things that hold onto her get broken.  

“Stay awake,” he coaxes her, and he leans in a bit as his jangling hands travel down her spine, barely there, brushing over a particular white hot core of pain mid-back.  She can feel blood seeping from under the half-assed bandage slapped over the intrusion, creeping down her waist and certainly seeping into her shirt.  And he lays there, just a moment, close enough she can feel the heat off of his body, his deep words still reverberating against her.

He says the same thing again, she thinks, but all she really hears is a pleading, “stay.”

She hears herself in the word.

But he seems to decide against holding any pressure to the sensitive spot on her back, hesitating just barely before his fingers are back in her hair.  He has her blood on his fingertips now, and she feels the red trail he leaves on her forehead.

“We’re going home,” she makes out as he cradles her head now, definite and insistent.  “But you have got to fight.”

His grip is something fierce, and his thumb is calloused.  The callousing of his thumb is so rough that it scrapes along her forehead as he strokes her hair.  She is going to introduce him to lotion, when they get out of here.  She lets the hum of his voice wash over her and engulf her, breathes in and out with the gentle, insistent tempo of his fingers  — keeping her awake.  Assuring her he hasn’t left.

She clenches her fists, reaching inside of herself as piercing pain shoots up her arm.  She hasn’t been silenced, exactly.  Muffled is a better description.  When she breathes in slow and deep, she can still feel the barest hum of her powers at her core.  It is a smoldering coal in an ice-land, and there is nothing to let it catch on to.  Nothing to encourage herself to burn.

It is burning, after all, this thing she is.  Time has made it better, has given her greater control at least.  But control requires focus, and focus requires energy, and with no energy, with all the synapses in her nerves dulled and tangled, she can’t pull it out of her.  She can’t coax the powers to life.

She lifts her arm with all the energy she has left, instead.  Opens her palm, wet and warm with her own blood.  He stops stroking her hair to pry the glass from where it has embedded into her skin without hesitation or preamble — and that is more comforting even than his hands in her hair.

When she wakes up on the Zephyr, the first thing she sees is Sousa.

“Thought you were staying in the 70’s,” she tries to tease, but her heart isn’t quite in it.  The hard surface she is laying on makes her uneasy, draws her back to Malick’s barn.  She can feel her powers tingling beneath her skin now, at least. “If you thought they were bad, you really shouldn’t see the 2010’s.”

He smiles crookedly, but she can see the barn in the darkened edges of his gaze still, too.

“Tried on some of those…. floppy bottom jeans.  Looked in a mirror.  Never got on a plane faster than I did trying to get away from ‘em.”

“I feel like it is probably a bad time to tell you about skinny jeans, then.”

His brow furrows and his head cocks ever so slightly, in a look of confusion that makes her grin.  Momentarily, an image of him in well fitted jeans does cross her mind, and… that is less funny, so much less funny that she can’t help but bite her lip.  Just barely.

She has been so distracted by him that her pains are only beginning to catch up with her now.  She is still distracted enough not to care too intensely, but he mistakes the change in her expression for pain, and concern creases into his brow.  He reaches for a nearby crutch — not his own, though.  A fuzzy memory of him carrying her suddenly snaps into focus and her cheeks burn.  He moves stiffly.  

“Agent Simmons said she had some painkillers,” he mutters hurriedly, “to get her when you woke.  I can —“

“No, don’t,” she says, too quickly, as he pivots slightly for the door.  He stops immediately short, glancing back over his shoulder at her.  She swallows, taking her next words more slowly. “I… just am not excited about getting any more drugs pumped into me right now.”

He doesn’t push her.  Doesn’t question her.  He is still a moment anyway, just staring back at her.  It is understanding there, hovering between them.  He still doesn’t move.

“I should tell her you’re awake,” he finally says with finality, but he doesn’t move.  He is waiting for her approval.

She doesn’t want him to go.

“Don’t,” she repeats. “Please. Stay.  I want you to stay with me.”

(He stiffly moves his chair closer to the head of her bed and asks her about skinny jeans.  She tells him they are made to make asses look good, and he only looks scandalized for the briefest flicker of a moment, before he laughs warm and full.

She falls asleep talking to him, her body still taxed and worn.

There are warm fingers tangled in her own as she drifts back to consciousness, and she braces herself for cold to overcome her, as reality strips him away.

When her eyes blink open, Sousa has drifted into what looks like a very uncomfortable sleep in the seat beside her.  His calloused fingers are woven through hers.)

#fucking fuck there is a fic under that read more i swear tumblr is just being a dick about it #aos #agents of shield #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #do they have a ship name? #i am so out of the loop lol #tbh this could be a friendship!fic with mild attraction too if that is what you prefer #idk i just am happy about them and daisy fucking deserves the world #dousy #sousy

[miah-pooh]

Prologue

A/n: This is where it all starts 

Warnings: Language, Blood, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Death

College AU (For the moment its a flashback)

Word Count: 1.9k

Bakugo x Yandere Reader

You loved Bakugo. You loved him so much you would do anything for him. I mean anything. Even though you were the quiet student in the class and never talked much you always had an eye for the loud-mouthed, overconfident boy.

It all started back in your college course when you were in the middle of training, you were in groups of two and you were paired with Bakugo, in an abandoned building looking for citizens trapped in the building. You were walking through the building with Bakugo trailing behind you. The building was unstable and each step you took had to be a smart one, to avoid one not falling and two not getting crushed. It was quiet and the only thing you were able to hear was you and Bakugo breathing and rocks falling all around you from the unstable building. “Get out the way dumbass” Bakugo pushed you behind him to blast the falling debris from crushing you. On the floor you watch Bakugo walk towards “Be careful next time extra” From that day forward you made a vow to yourself that you will protect Bakugo and not let anyone get too close to him that looks like they mean harm.

It’s been a couple of weeks since the ‘special interaction’ with Bakugo and you have been watching his every move since then and it’s been very easy since the whole class stays in the dorms. The first week he would wake up, shower, eat, train, study, train, shower and go to bed. That was just the weekend schedule. It was easy to memorize his weekend schedule but his weekday schedule had you wondering what he was up to.  He would get up train, shower, go to class, eat lunch, and stay after school every Tuesday and Thursday and some days go off schedule which leads you searching for him from a far distance. After he returns to the dorms he goes straight to bed and repeats it the next day.

It was lunchtime and you were standing in the far corner of the lunchroom watching Bakugo interaction with another girl. You watch the way the girl interacts with Bakugo and how Bakugo is entertaining the girl, they start walking out the lunchroom together side by side. The sight before you made your blood boil and you didn’t like the girl, not one bit. You slow trail behind them Listening to their conversations. “So we're meeting at the park today right?” the girl asks, clinging to his arm. “Yes if it makes you feel better babe~” Your eyes widen feeling your body getting hot and not from the temperature. The sentence repeats over and over in your mind as you clench your fist in anger. “Ummm l/n are you okay” a voice from behind you speaks. You drive your fist into the locker leaving a dent. You take a deep breath and turn around to be faced to Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka with a concerned look on their face. “Ohh I’m fine” smiling innocently “Are you sure L/N, you just punched the locker and left a pretty big dent in it,” Iida says moving his arms in a robotic motion. You look at the locker and back at the group in front of you “Just not feeling the best, but I’ll be fine” You say walking away from the group. You quickly walked to the bathroom, slamming the door and locked it. You walk over to the sink splashing water on your face to calm down and collect your thoughts. You look up in the mirror chest heaving up and down. “Hah? Babe? This can’t be right… Is this why he stayed after school?” you questioned yourself only to be riled up again. Letting out a sardonic laugh, you drive your fist into the mirror causing it to crack and pieces falling onto the ground left in shatter and you fist bleeding “Guess I have to take things into my own hands since people don’t know how to stay away from things that are mines.” running your bloody hands through your hair.

You went back to the dorms and changed into something more fitting for what you're planning to do. You put on a black oversized hoodie, black sweatpants, and so black combat boots. You stuffed your pockets with some black gloves and a black mask. You got to your closet pulling out a big blue chest that is covered in dust. You wipe the dust off and open the chest up. Your eyes shimmered at the sight before you, it was a chest full of different weapons from daggers to axes, a metal bat and even a machete. ‘Do I want to go for an instant kill or watch her suffer’ you thought “We’ll just have to see which one happens first” you say picking up the dagger and the axe stuffing it in the waistband of your sweats. You knew how to use every tool in the chest. You did your research about the right penetrate to get the perfect results of death or enough time to watch them suffer rather than die instantly. You close the chest, lock it and push it back into your closet. You left your room heading to the park where Bakugo and the girl were meeting. “Hey, l/n where you’re going?” Momo questioned. Half of the class was in the common rule playing games, “Umm running a few errands I’ll be back later.” You say slipping out the door. Everyone in the common room shared a look of concern. Yeah, you were distant with everyone but you never left the dorms useless you had to. You had a perfect image of the girl and had enough time to do what you needed to do before Bakugo gets to the park.

You were walking down the street till you saw the girl you were looking for. Speeding up your pace, you pull your mask up to cover your face but your eyes and put on the gloves, you look around to make sure no one would see you and the girl. Timing the perfect time to pull her into the upcoming alley. You grabbed her arm and covered her mouth with your other hand swinging her into the alley. She was taller than you but that didn’t stop you from pushing her up against the wall. Her screams were muffled from you covering her mouth with your cotton gloves, when she got a look at you she calmed down, you slowly removed your hand from her mouth reaching into your pocket to grab your dagger. “I Have a few questions for you and I suggest you answer them for me quickly so I can get this over with.” “ Who are you supposed to be?” “Doesn’t matter, What is Bakugo to you?” Her eyes slightly widen at your questioned but she plays it off “He a friend of mine, is there a problem” You notice she had a sass in her tone so you decided to give a little sass back “Yea, he belongs to someone” You say pushing the dagger into her stomach with a sadistic smile on your face The girl gasp feeling the dagger pressing into her skin. “Now what is Bakugo to you and please be honest so I won’t use this on you” She takes a deep breath and struggling to keep her composure “H-he’s  m-my boyfriend, we've been together for a good t-two m-mouths” You grin grows wide “Do you think he’ll come to save you?” Looking up at her through your long lashes, teary blue eyes meeting your e/c eyes filled with rage. “I-I don’t know” “Good, do you think he’ll miss you?” Pushing the dagger deeper into her stomach causing her to scream out a yes. You cover her mouth “What the fuck are you doing? Do you want to get caught? Cause if we get caught I’ll have no choice but to kill you. Do you want that?” She slowly shakes her head no, tears finally falling down her face and hair sticking to the wet part of her face. You finally pull off your mask taking a deep breath “ You know you're a really pretty girl when you cry, I want you to get a good look at my face then go get help, okay?” She nodded her head scanning your face. You push the dagger into her stomach to the point it breaks the skin and starts to bleed, staining her white shirt. Muffled cries filled the alley as her body jerks forward to hold her wound. “ I know I already said this but I just feel like you're not listening but this is the last thing I’m going to tell you and you can go get help. But you’re pretty but you just got to know your place Bakugo Mines and I don’t care what he told you. You don’t mess with someone’s prized possession. Now run” grinning as you pull the dagger out. She limps her way out the alley at a slow pace. You pull out the axe that was sitting in the waistband of your sweatpants and throw it at her back, piercing the spinal cord, causing her to fall forward onto the ground. She starts clawing at the ground attempting to get out the alley. You walk up behind her putting your foot on her back putting pressure on it while grabbing the axe. She turns around to face you crying and blood falling from her mouth. Smiling, you bring the axe over your head with both hands.  “Should have moved quicker bitch”  brings down the axe in the middle of her head. The blood splatters everywhere, on the nearby building, the ground and your face.  You take a deep breath, rolling your neck, you pull the axe out her head, just for more blood to be splatter on your face, stuffing the axe back in between your waistband. You grab the girl by the hair and pull her back into the alley leaving a bloody trail to her body behind the dumpster. You wipe your face the best you could to get the blood off to return to the dorms.

You pull your mask on and put your hood on as you make your way to the doors of the dorm. Pushing the door open everyone looks at you and your dark form. You stop in the middle of the room with your back face to everyone “Is everything okay?” You ask in an innocent but taunting tone sending chills down everyone back. You walk upstairs to your room without saying another word. You got in your room pulling off your clothes and setting them on the floor by your closet. You pull the axe and dagger out and sit it on the clothes next to you and clean it off with the hoodie. Pulling the chest out and unlocking it you put the weapons back into the chest and locking it back. You grab some clothes and a towel and make your way down to the shower.

You turn the shower on letting the hot water run over your skin painted in blood. Watching the blood slowly wash away from your face, running your hands in your head you began to scrub your skin clean from today's job. ‘That was easier than I thought’

After a while, you made the perfect plan to get Katsuki Bakugo to yourself and you had backup plans just in case things don’t go your way. You were willing to put up a fight to get what truly belongs to you

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#mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #katsukibakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #bnha bakugou #dark content #tw yandere #stalking tw #blood #chracterdeath #violence #tw death