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uwusenpaiuwu · 3 years

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Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

“Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

#mikey x male reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjirou x male reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjirou #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #manjirou sano #i tried #im so sorry #pls dont cancel me #PSA: don't masturbate in the same room as baji

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ramzawrites · 3 years

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A Painful Reminder - Dad!Schlatt and Reader - Part 2

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Philza, Fundy, Tubbo, (mentioned) Schlatt

Warnings: mention of past self harm (ripping off horns), mention of blood, abandonment, cursing

Series: A part 2 after multiple people asked for it (thank you)

Summary: Quackity found Y/N bleeding next to the river. Now he frantically tries to figure out how to help them in more ways than one.

Words count: 3243

Authors Note: Here it is! Thank you for all the nice messages on part 1! It took longer than I had hoped and I apologize but also thank you all for the messages that cheered me up :D I’ll be honest I was a bit intimidated by all this and I hope that you guys enjoy this fic nontheless 💙 Also I usually like to put the fics right beneath the asks but since I got so many messages I decided to answer some of them, I hope that is alright. Or tell me if I should do it differntly after all haha

NO GUARANTEE BUT I MADE THIS POST THAT YOU CAN INTERACT WITH IN CASE YOU WANT TO GET TAGGED FOR A PART 3, no guarantee I will actually sit down in the near future for it but HERE

Reposted as a test to see if it will appear in the tags

“See. It’s already working.”

These words continued to echo through Quackity’s mind as he carried the unconscious Y/N in his arms, not worried about the blood that was soaking into his blue jacket. If anything he was more worried that dirt from his clothes was getting into the fresh wounds.

“Anyone? I need a doctor! Healing potions! Anything!” once again he yelled out hoping somebody was around L’Manberg.

Even though Y/N was knocked out cold their expression displayed pain. Quackity could only imagine how they did this to themself but he tried not to think too hard about it. The wounds looked gruesome even without the exact knowledge of how this came to be.

How desperate must they have been to hurt themself like that?

How long have they suffered that this was their reaction?

How will he live with the knowledge that he was partially at fault?

“Quackity? What’s wrong?”

Said man turned around to see a worried looking Tubbo and Fundy standing behind him. As soon he did though both their expression turned from worried to shock.

Fundy’s eyes widened as he saw Y/N laying limp in Quackity’s arms “What the- For the love of Ender what happened! Their horns!”

“I don’t know but I found them like this. Can you- Do you know-“ Quackity was struggling to find the rights words but Tubbo knew what he meant.

Once again his expression changed. Now looking more serious and determined but the worry was still clear through his body language “Let’s go to Phil. He has some brewery stands and I’m sure he will let us use his.”

Fundy nodded “I’m sure grandpa will help us.”

Quackity didn’t hesitate, he immediately begun making his way towards Phil’s house, still making sure that Y/N’s head isn’t moving around too much. Scared that he might hurt them even more.

All the while Tubbo made sure to stay a few steps ahead. As if he was keeping lookout for any possible dangers or to make sure that the way was free for them so the group could reach Phil’s place as fast as possible.

Fundy walked side by side with Quackity on the other hand. His eyes always darting to Y/N’s head. Staring at the place where their dark horns used to be. Queasy with all of this he grabbed his tail with his own hands.

Luckily it indeed didn’t take long for them to reach Phil’s place. Tubbo knocked hastily against the wooden door as Quackity readjusted Y/N in his arms.

The door opened and a somewhat tired looking Phil stood in front of them. His eyes first landed on Tubbo and slowly wandered towards Quackity with Y/N “What the- What is going on?”

Fundy stepped forward, still nervously holding onto his tail “We need your help, grandpa. Y/N is hurt and we need potions for them.”

Before he even ended the sentence Phil was already making space for the small group to walk in “Yes, of course. You can put them down on my bed there. I have some ingredients for potions in some of the chests. Tubbo, Fundy you know how to make healing and regeneration pots?”

“We do.” Tubbo answered sternly.

“Okay, then I’ll clean the wounds while you both make them.”

Quackity laid Y/N carefully down on the soft bed. A few whimpers escaped their mouth as he let go off them. Their face was still stained with their own tears. Blood covering the sides of their face as well as their hands. Their clothes dirty and wet.

Phil immediately moved in with fresh water and a clean rag, slowly cleaning up the wounds where Y/N’s horns used to be.

Tubbo and Fundy ran around from chest to chest, collecting all the ingredients for the potions. The only sound in the room came from the glass bottles and the brewery stands as well as the occasional painful groan from Y/N.

No one was saying it but all of them felt sick to their stomach. Seeing them without their horns felt so wrong. A part of their body just gone. Especially for fellow Hybrids this was a gruesome thought.

“So, what exactly happened?” Philza dunked the rag back into the water.

Quackity was just pacing around the room as he asked that question. He didn’t know anything about how to heal Y/N and was instead battling the increasing guilt that was building up in him.

He took a deep breath in “I don’t know. I heard some crying and when I investigated I found them by the river laying in the grass like this. I asked them what happened but they just babbled something on the lines of that they freed themself so we all can live in peace.”

Tubbo gasped “Don’t tell me- Don’t tell me they did this to themself! But this doesn’t make any sense!”

“Really? I think it makes a lot of sense!” Quackity snapped at Tubbo “Everyone has been avoiding them ever since fucking Schlatt’s death and they are not stupid! They realize we left them alone because of their relation to him! I know for a fact that you too saw their horns and had to think of him! You left them alone just how I did. How everyone did! This is our fault!”

“Quackity-“ Fundy wanted to calm the other man down but he was way too angry.

Too angry at everyone and himself.

“No! There is nothing else to say! We fucked up!”

The young president just stared at Quackity. Surprised with his reaction but he couldn’t fault him for it. He spoke the truth. It was an open secret after all. Something everyone knew but no one dared to talk about. No one thought of the consequences.

Fundy frowned and stared at the ground, mumbling something no one could understand.

Quackity still agitated turned towards him “What did you say?”

The Fox Hybrid looked up, his frown still present, showing his fangs “We were hurting as well! We all needed time to heal!”

“On the expense of Y/N?”

“What were we supposed to do!?”

Phil let out an annoyed groan “Can you two shut the fuck up? We can deal with this later! Right now the priority should be healing Y/N.”

After that no one dared to say anything. Tubbo and Fundy stood each at a brewing stand and stared intently at the glass bottles while Quackity decided to stand close to Phil and Y/N.

Schlatt’s rule was a horrible time. During that time Y/N and he bonded. Trying to keep each other’s spirit up as Schlatt destroyed everything in his wake. Including his relationships with his own child and him. Hence why he felt this increased sense of having to make sure that they were alright. It was the least he could do after screwing up so bad before.

“See, it’s already working” The sentence Y/N spoke just before they passed out snuck into his thoughts again. They were right. It hurt, because they were right.

Suddenly he had an idea “Phil, could regenerations potions, um, make them regrow? The horns, I mean.”

Philza stopped moving. His eyebrows pulled down in thought as he slowly shook his head “No, Regeneration Potions just increase the body’s ability to heal itself. Horns don’t regrow. If you lose them, they are gone forever.”

This stung. There was this slight hope in him that maybe, maybe they all could make it up. Correct all of their mistakes but instead he was left with even more guilt. Now they might not see the horns that would remind them of Schlatt but instead they would be met with a constant reminder of their own fault and guilt.

Suddenly Tubbo took a bottle out of the brewery in his hand while Fundy gave him a different one. He handed both of them to Phil who got out new rags and put one of the potions on it which he then used on the wound. Luckily the bleeding slowly did indeed stop more and more.

“Okay, the regeneration one they have to drink. It should help them with any general pain and should increase their healing but for that they have to wake up.” A weary sigh left his lips as he began cleaning up.

Phil put some of the rags in a chest only to pull out some bandages and threw them towards Quackity who struggled for a second but managed to catch them after all “Bandage them up, will ya?”

Quackity nodded and sat down on the bed next to Y/N. Their wounds still looked bad but at least their face was clean now and the bleeding stopped as well. Carefully he propped them up on his lap so he had an easier time to wrap their head.

He wasn’t the best at it but he did a good enough job that Philza didn’t feel the need to jump in.

Tubbo and Fundy were now standing on opposite sides of the room. Both had their arms in front of their chest. While Tubbo looked more worried, Fundy still had his frown on.

He understood where Quackity was coming from but to him there was no other way. If he forced himself to hang out with them then Y/N would have noticed it. He was sure of it. It was unfair to say that all of them were at fault for this. Yes, this was bad. This was quite frankly horrifying what happened but to say that all of them were at fault? That didn’t sit right with him.

Maybe he was too scared to accept the guilt.

Once Quackity finished wrapping up Y/N and just as he slowly dropped their head back on the bloody pillow, they begun groaning.

Everyone’s but Phil’s eyes widened as their gazes immediately snapped towards Y/N.

They slowly opened up one of their eyes and begun to sit up, without missing a beat Phil walked away from the chest he was rummaging about and instead grabbed the regeneration potion, pushing it into Y/N’s hands “Drink.”

Still groggy from their ordeal they just nodded and chugged the whole bottle down before setting the empty bottle down next to them. One of their still dirty hands flew towards their forehead, wincing in pain.

“Y/N?” Quackity tried to gain their attention but Y/N was busy trying to understand what was going on.

Suddenly their eyes grew wide and the other hand flew up to the head. Slowly they begun feeling around the rough bandages, inching more and more towards the place where their horns used to be connected with their head.

Letting out a pained gasp as soon as they arrived at the wound. Tears welling up in their eyes.

“It wasn’t a dream.” Y/N rasped out.

Tubbo looked like he was standing on hot coals with how much he danced around on the spot “I’m sorry, Y/N. We-“

But he interrupted himself as Y/N let out a dry laugh. It was a laugh mixed with relief, pain and shock. A laugh that set the pain inside Quackity’s and the other’s chest ablaze again. Even Fundy’s frown disappeared into one of disbelief. Like it just hit him what has happened.

Quackity was too busy with gauging everyone’s reaction that he didn’t notice how Y/N was now silently crying. They tried their best to suppress it via wiping away any tears that dared to escape but it was a futile effort.

“Where- Where am I?”

“In my place. Quackity carried you over here with Tubbo and Fundy.” Philza explained. He never really interacted with Y/N as well. He arrived in L’Manberg and was forced to kill his own son. Blaming the system and people of this city, so once he found out Y/N was Schlatt’s child, who was one of the main reasons Wilbur fell to his own paranoia? No, he didn’t feel incredibly comfortable trying to do small talk with them.

Sure, he felt bad for them but not guilty. No, the people who already knew them should feel guilty. If anything he felt sorry for them and saw them as another victim to the people similar like his son. A bit ironic if you really thought about it. The child of Schlatt and his own child both fell victim to L’Manberg.

Y/N nodded, their head felt so much lighter it was almost an uncomfortable feeling “I’ll get home then. I apologize for the trouble and thank you for the help.”

The nature of the stares has changed. A small part in them was almost ecstatic that this wasn’t in vain. No more stares of hostility but rather sympathy. Y/N could work with that, right? So, why did they still feel so conflicted? Why was the pain in their chest still there?

Throwing away the blanket, Y/N tried to stand up but Quackity pushed them back down with a stern expression.

“Hey, Hey! What do you think you are doing?” surprisingly it was Fundy speaking up and it shocked Y/N.

Fundy noticed the pang of fear on their face and relaxed his features “I’m- I’m sorry. Just, you can’t walk around like this. You are seriously hurt, besides-“ He stopped himself.

Tubbo looked at Fundy only to switch back to Y/N “Besides, if what we think what happened, there is no way we can leave you alone like this.”

“No, No- I- No. No. I did that- I-“ Y/N was frantically stumbling across their words, letting their tears now freely running and yet they still put on a smile and looked Tubbo in the eyes “I’ll be fine. Thank you for patching me up. From here on out I’ll be fine.”

Phil sighed “Just accept their help. That’s why you did this in the first place, didn’t you? Ripping your horns off your head, so they would stop avoiding you.” Seeing all of them stumbling across their words he decided to just rip the band aid off.

When Y/N just stared at their lap and didn’t dare to look up as a response Quackity put one of his hands on their shoulder, blood still smeared on them from when he inspected the wounds.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What he said, it’s the truth. You realized we avoided you because your horns reminded us of Schlatt, right?”

It wasn’t really a question, since he knew the answer but he needed to hear it from them himself. He needed definitive proof that they did feel indeed desperate enough because of everyone’s actions to do this. To literally rip their horns off their body.

Y/N gulped. Their mouth opening and closing but no words came out. They took a deep breath in, squinted their eyes shut and softly nodded, muttering an almost inaudible “Yes.”

Now they couldn’t hold back anymore, breaking down into loud sobs and hiccups.

“This is bull shit!” Fundy exclaimed angrily. Quackity wanted to yell at Fundy, saying why in the world would he still act like that only to see tears now welling up in the Fox Hybrids eyes as well.

Tubbo had a shocked expression on his face, clasping his hands in front of his mouth.

Phil had his eyes closed, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Brows in a frown as he was deep in thought.

Tentatively Quackity put his other hand on the other shoulder of Y/N, slowly and softly pulling on them. They didn’t react at first but after a few moments they seemed to relax and lean in. Falling into Quackity’s chest.

Now sobbing and crying while he was slowly rubbing their back in an effort to console them.

He put his head on theirs, hoping it wouldn’t hurt them too much and whispered apologies.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry we did this to you. You made an effort to talk to us and we noticed but we still chose to just abandon you.”

Their cries increased. Letting out their pent up pain as Quackity held them securely in their arms. Feeling some kind of love and affection for the first time since forever.

Fundy slowly stepped towards Y/N, placing one of his hands on their back “I’m sorry as well. We fucked up. None of this is on you but on us.”

“And I’m sorry as well! I- I don’t know what I was thinking. It was horrible of us.” Tubbo added.

“I feel sorry for you Y/N that’s all I can say. To the others, now saying you are sorry isn’t enough. You need to prove it. Got it?” Phil lectured the group.

Tubbo nodded “Yes. For starters we can make sure they heal up well.”

It took a few minutes until Y/N seemed to slowly calm down again. They were still sobbing but their cries weren’t as loud anymore.

Quackity pushed them away from him and looked them into their eyes “Stay at my place. I’ll make sure you’ll be okay. It will take time and I know it will be work to earn your trust again but will you at least give us this last chance? Hell, you have probably given more chances for us than we will ever realize but still, will you let me, uh, us, do this? It’s okay if you don’t want to, or if you want someone else to help.”

It took Y/N a moment to realize what was happening and what he was proposing. Not only were all of them worried for their wellbeing but they apologized. They had to admit that they didn’t expect this. Honestly they just hoped that their horns would go and all was well. People would finally talk with them and not ask too many questions. Y/N would probably be able to come up with an excuse. Probably.

But to hear that this wasn’t their fault? That the others avoided them wasn’t their fault? Realistically they always knew it but they never really believed it a hundred percent, so to hear this was like someone lifted a huge weight off of their heart.

The other’s recognized that they were hurting. Their feelings wasn’t something they somehow made up. This was real. This was happening and the others acknowledged it.

“… Okay.”

Quackity and the other seemed to relax at that. He let go off them and Tubbo used this chance to give Y/N a short hug as well which made Y/N break down into cries again. Fundy cautiously sat down on the bed as well and wrapped one of his arms and tail around the two.

The group noticed pretty fast that this was something Y/N needed. A physical proof that they cared for them. Not just words, now they had to show action. This also meant to inform all of the others on the situation. Make sure they learned what has happened but only with Y/N’s consent and in a way they were okay with it.

But before all of that, they will make sure they were healing, physically and mentally. Something will probably never fully leave or heal but they will find a way. They had to.

Quackity was incredibly glad they took him up on the offer. After all they two went together through the same bull shit from Schlatt and he saw them once as family, so he felt it was his responsibility, now that Schlatt was gone, to take care of them.

“Thank you, Y/N for giving us this chance. We don’t deserve it but we will try our hardest.”

“I know, Quackity.”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #fundy dsmp #itsfundy #quackity dsmp #quackity #tubbo #tubbo dsmp #philza #philza dsmp

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s-brant · 3 years

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The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

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xtrrdnrypotato · 3 years

Text

Bakugo x chubby reader

Katsuki Bakugo x chubby! female reader

TW: fluff, language, reader is insecure of her figure,

Note: This is my first piece so please go easy on me if I didn’t portray everything exactly. This is also a part of @heart-shaped-cheerios collab event, so go check her out. Also, I hope this fic makes you less insecure with yourself because whatever shape, form or size you are, you are perfect and you're the only one who can do you. Also, if some of the lines sound familiar to you, that's probably because I took some inspiration from Yagami Yato hehe anyways I hope you enjoy

WC: 2.7 k

You stared longingly at Bakugo again for the umpteenth time, your food untouched.

"Y/n!" your friend, Mina, called again, and your attention snapped to her.

"Oh, sorry, what was it?" you asked her, and you swore she looked so close to facepalming herself.

"I said, you still haven't touched your food. Quit daydreaming about Bakugo and start eating!" she said, almost yelled, and you shushed her quickly.

"Shh! Mina, don't talk too loud or he might hear you," you said, glancing quickly at the said boy to make sure his attention wasn't on you guys. Mina sighed exasperatedly.

"Y/n, how many times have I told you, just tell him your feelings. This is our last year in UA. If you don't tell him now how you feel, you may never get the chance to do so," she said, softer this time and you sighed.

"I know, but, you know how I feel about myself," you answered, looking down at your body. "And besides, he's probably not even in the slightest bit interested in me," you added as you took a bite off of your food.

"Hey, you never know! Who knows, maybe secretly, he's also daydreaming about you when you're not looking." You could clearly hear the mischief in her tone and you shook your head.

"Yeah right, as if," you mumbled as you kept eating, unaware of the vermilion eyes staring at you with a somewhat doting look.

It was your dreaded time of the day again. Training. You hated it when it's time for training, hated it when you don your hero costume, hated how you're fully aware you probably look round as hell in it, and hated the fact that Bakugo has to see you in it. But seeing Bakugo in his hero costume somehow made your hatred for training a little more bearable. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you almost missed it when Aizawa-sensei announced that you would have to go against Bakugo. Almost.

"Wait, what?!" you gasped as soon as you realized what your teacher said.

"Is there any problem?" Aizawa asked sternly and you gulped, shaking your head.

"N-none, sir."

"Good. Now, everyone, get ready," he said.

"Mina, Mina, Mina! I'm going up against Bakugo," you said to your best friend, clinging to her arm frantically. She immediately looked at you.

"Wait, really?"

"Yes! Oh, what do I do, what do I do?" you panicked as you thought of ways on how to avoid making yourself look like a complete and utter fool.

"Relax. Everything's going to be fine. Just, try not to look like a fool and do your best. Don't think of him as Bakugo, your crush. For now, think of him as Bakugo, someone you have to go against," Mina said as she rubbed your shoulders to help you calm down and that seemed to do the trick. With a deep breath, you nodded and smiled.

"You're right! Thanks, Mina," you said.

"Welcome, now go and get ready. You're up for one heck of a training," she grinned and you rolled your eyes playfully, thanking her once again before leaving to get ready.

Meanwhile, Bakugo watched as you started getting ready.

"Oi, Bakugo, quit staring at Y/n and get yourself ready," Denki teased, flustering the spiky haired blonde.

"Shut up! I'm not staring at her!" he denied as he geared himself up. Denki and Kirishima glanced at each other with a knowing look, before bursting into laughter. Bakugo looked at them with furrowed brows.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?!" he demanded. His eyes suddenly widened as Kirishima put an arm around him.

"Come on, Bakugo, no need to deny! We all do that, you're not alone," Kirishima said, to which Denki agreed.

"Yeah, dude! I always do that to Jiro," he said with a shit-eating grin. Bakugo looked at them incredulously before shaking off Kirishima's arm around him.

"Shut up, both of you!" He was about to deny more when Sero suddenly entered.

"Yeah, if you look closely, Bakugo's a bit softer with Y/n," he casually stated as he put on his helmet. Bakugo's eyes widened once more before he let out an exasperated groan and pushed his friends out of the way.

No, can't be. I'm not softer with her. Tsk, damn Soy Sauce Face.

"Next up, Katsuki Bakugo and Y/n L/n!" you heard Aizawa announce and you stood up nervously, sparing one last glance at Mina, who nodded firmly. With a sigh, you headed to the center of the gym.

"Good luck, Bakugo," you smiled at him and he responded with a simple tsk, before getting in position. As soon as you heard the signal to start, you immediately backed away from Bakugo, activating your quirk just in time for one of his explosions. You quickly attempted to kick his leg to knock him off balance, but he easily avoided your attack and landed an explosion on your back, sending you to the ground. Wiping the dirt off of your face, you stood up and decided to lunge at him. He easily avoided your attacks, until you managed to find an opening. As you were about to punch him, he suddenly grabbed one of your hands and flung you to the ground, face first. You could feel your stomach growling from lack of food this morning, but you still willed yourself to stand up and brace for one more attack. However, just as you were to get up, you felt your knees weakening and before you knew it, you fell to the ground, stomach hurting too much for you to make a move.

Bakugo was determined to prove to his friends that he wasn't soft for anyone, especially not with you, but as soon as he saw your knees starting to buckle, his determined look suddenly softened until he saw you on the ground, seemingly crumpling in pain. He stood there at first, shocked and unable to comprehend what happened, before he walked to you and started lifting you up.

You were curled up on the ground in pain, hands clutching your growling tummy, when you suddenly felt someone starting to carry you. You were just about to open your mouth to protest when you saw the face of the one carrying you.

"B-Bakugo?!" You gasped. He simply ignored you and started walking towards the door and you started freaking out internally. Oh shit, I'm heavy, I'm heavy!!

"Bakugo, put me down! This is embarrassing!" You hissed at him but he still looked completely unmoved.

"Bakugo, put me the hell down! I'm too heavy!" You complained again as you started thinking of ways on how to free yourself from him when he suddenly glared at you.

"Shut up, damn brat. Are you underestimating me?" he asked and you shook your head. Never did it once cross your mind to underestimate him.

"Good. Then shut up and let me do this," he said and you said no more, remaining silent until you reached the infirmary.

You couldn't help but wince as Recovery Girl kissed your cheek. Bakugo brought you to the infirmary, then left as soon as the old healing lady attended to you.

"You children, obsessed with being skinny and all. Look at what you're doing to yourselves," the woman reprimanded you as you remained silent. The silence was soon broken though when your best friend Mina entered the room.

"Y/n!! I was so worried about you. What happened? Are you okay?" she asked consecutively as she ran by your side. You waved her off with a laugh.

“Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry,” she answered with a smile. Mina seemed relieved with your answer, but her frown remained.

“Now, woman, you have some explaining to do to me. Why are you starving yourself?” she asked sternly and your smile slowly dissipated.

“How’d you know?” you murmured, avoiding your friend’s eyes. You heard her audibly gasp.

“So you are starving yourself. God, why Y/n?” she asked, sounding both exasperated and concerned. You remained silent, ashamed of yourself.

“Y/n, come on, answer me!”

“Because I want to be like you guys! You all have the ideal bodies, slim and curvy, while here’s my chubby ass. So I thought, maybe I could try starving myself so I could be more like you guys,” you retorted as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to leave your eyes.

Bakugo was about to enter your room when he heard another voice from inside. Tsk, Raccoon-eyes. Still, instead of leaving, he decided to stay outside the door, eavesdropping on the conversation. Tsk, I shouldn’t be here, he thought to himself despite what he’s currently doing. What he heard next though was something he never thought you’d say.

Mina gaped at you, aghast before she suddenly hugged you.

"What are you talking about, silly? You don't have to be like us, Y/n. Yes, you may be chubby, but that’s part of your charm,” she said in an attempt to comfort her.

“No, I..of course it’s easy for you to say that. Look at you,” you pouted, motioning to her slim pink body.

“I’m pink. Yes, I’m slim, but I’m pink. Despite how my body shape looks, I’m still pink, unlike you and Uraraka and others. But you guys still befriended me, right?” she asked and you nodded.

“Of course! I mean, you may be pink but you’re fun to talk to, and you’re nice,” you added, which made her smile sheepishly.

“You really think so?” she asked teasingly before bursting into giggles. Staring at her, you couldn’t help but snicker as well.

“But kidding aside, now you get my point?” Mina asked as she stopped laughing. Wiping the corner of your eye, you nodded.

“I guess?” you answered with a slight grin. Mina looked at you with an “are you serious” look and you giggled.

“Well, I think that’s the best I can get from you for now. But once you’re out of here, I’m going to whip you into shape! And I don’t mean physically! Got it?” she asked in a bossy tone, her hands on her hips. Your slight grin turned into a full fledged smile and you nodded. Mina’s serious yet playful look softened and she hugged you once again, before finally leaving you alone in the clinic.

Mina shook her head as she closed the clinic door behind her.

“She’s always so stubborn,” she muttered to herself. When she looked up, she was surprised to see Bakugo.

“Oh, Bakugo, are you visiting Y/n?” she asked. He didn’t answer, which made her grin.

“She’s up, don’t worry. Get in there, I know she’s also looking for you,” she added and the blonde looked at her with an inquisitive brow raised as Mina held her hands up in surrender and moved out of the way. With a tsk, Bakugo was about to enter when Mina talked again.

“You should probably tell her how you feel already. It’s starting to get out of hand, you know,” she teased. She can obviously see him tense up, before letting out a low growl and opening the door, quickly closing the door behind him, making Mina chuckle.

Your eyes were closed as you pondered your best friend’s words when you heard the door open.

“Mina, I thought-” you were cut short when you saw Bakugo enter. You quickly straightened and cleared your throat.

“H-hey, Bakugo,” you said with an awkward laugh.

“Wh-what are..you doing here?” you asked, seeing as he didn’t respond to your first statement. He remained silent and you were starting to get annoyed by his behavior.

“Seriously, why are you-”

“How are you?” he cut you short and you closed your mouth before responding again.

“I-I’m good. Recovery Girl told me I can go out by today, I just need to take a small rest,” you answered and he nodded thoughtfully. You tried to look for more things to say, but couldn’t find any and so you decided to shut up.

“I..” Bakugo said before pausing quickly, as if hesitating what to say next. He cleared his throat before talking again.

“I..overheard what you and Mina were talking about earlier,” he stated and you looked at him, eyes wide before shaking yourself off.

“You did?” you asked and he simply nodded. Great, now you’re probably thinking of how pathetic I am, you couldn’t help but think.

“Why?” he asked, breaking your train of thoughts.

“Wh-what do you mean..why?”

“Why would you try to change yourself? Why would you do such a thing to the point that it almost got you in trouble?” he asked, and you were pretty sure you could hear concern in his voice. You remained quiet though, embarrassed as you looked down to your hands.

“Why?” he repeated himself, firmer this time and you looked up at him.

“So you’d take a second glance at me!” you shot back and he furrowed his brows, as if he didn’t understand what you meant.

“I did that..so you know, you would notice me,” you paused, considering your words before resuming. “I’ve liked you for some time now, Bakugo, but I thought..you wouldn’t notice me or take a second glance at me, because of how I look. Because, let’s be honest, I pale in comparison with the other girls in our class. So I tried being like them, so maybe you’d like me back,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. He remained speechless for a long time, and you sighed. You’ve only made a fool of yourself.

“Look, I know it sounds pathetic, so could you please just leave me-”

“Idiot,” he mumbled and you looked at him, aghast.

“Excuse me?” you asked, incredulous. After that confession, he’d just call you an idiot?!

“You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot for thinking that you need to be like them in order for me to like you. You’re an idiot for thinking that I wouldn’t take a second glance at you because of how you look. You’re an idiot for even thinking that I didn’t like you in the first place,” he added and you looked at him, confused.

“Wha-? What are you talking about?” you asked him, visibly confused.

“You really are a dumbass, huh?”

“One more insult and I’ll kick you out.”

“How could you not notice? All my friends have been telling me that I’ve been so obvious, but I guess I wasn’t obvious enough,” he answered and you only gaped at him, even more lost.

“What do you mean “obvious”? What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, starting to get annoyed.

“I like you, dumbass!” he finally yelled and your eyes widened, taken aback. He saw your shocked expression and decided to continue.

“I like you because you’re cheerful, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re helpful. I like you because you still manage to smile even after all the insults you get from others. I like you because you’re you. So when I heard that you were starving yourself because you wanted to look like the others, I knew I had to do something. You don’t need to be like them for me to notice you, because it’s you who I like. I wouldn’t like you if you were like them. And I don’t care if you think you’re too fat or too chubby or whatever because to me, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And you just need to see that,” he said, the words flowing out of him so effortlessly. When he looked at you, he could see tears in your eyes again.

“Tsk, making me say stuff like that,” he said and before you knew it, he pulled you in a hug.

“So don’t go trying to change yourself, okay? If you really want to, I’d respect that. But do it for yourself. Not because you want to be like someone else, but because you want to be you. Got it?” he said as he hugged you tightly and you couldn’t help but tear up more.

“Are you saying this because it’s what you really mean, or because you just pity me?” you asked with a slight laugh.

“Shut up, dumbass. You know I don’t do things half-assed, and I wouldn’t say all this stuff if it’s just out of pity, so you better appreciate it,” he mumbled and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I do appreciate it,” you answered and you swear you could feel him smile.

“Good. Now shut up..and let me hug you,” he said, holding you tighter and at that moment, you knew you couldn’t be any happier.

#bakugo x reader #my hero x reader #fluff #bakugo mha #bakugo katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #chubs n' rolls collab #fuffypens #sfw

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orphicrose · 3 years

Text

The Only One

Rick x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : life is strange in the rick and morty universe, as we all know. But things get just that little bit weirder when Rick meets you. Something seems oddly familiar with you, but for once In his life he has no idea why. So he searches from reality to reality to try and see if he had met another version of you, only to realise there where none. You where the only one. That’s when it finally hit him…

This is inspired by a song from Rick and morty that I think is beautiful https://youtu.be/epiOcz3HXNo

I accidentally got carried away and wrote too much, so I will probably just do a part 2 so it’s not to much to read if anyone is interested <3

_________________꧁♥︎꧂_________________

Humans are such fragile creatures, always have been and always will be. You knew that, but you refused to surrender down to it. Not wanting to be included In whatever earth had to offer, so you ran away. And not like how a silly fourteen years old runs away from home, Hah… no.

You left the fucking planet, not leaving behind a single trail or speck of dust for someone to follow you with. Your intelligence and ambition was all you needed to carry yourself through life. Travelling the infinite void of space, soon making a name for yourself. For good and for bad. An ordinary person couldnt even dream nor comprehend the things you’ve experienced or seen. And that’s just how you liked it. Being different. It was truly a gift to be intelligent.

And then there was rick, high IQ and normally not happy about it. Seeing his intelligence as a curse. Rick hadn’t seen it all, it was impossible, but he thought he had seen enough to make a valid opinion on life.

It’s pointless.

Such a bitter man with a bitter view on everything, including himself. You see, when you have an overwhelming amount of knowledge weighing down on your mind, you can go two ways. The first being ricks way, not caring about anything since he has seen how big the universe is and doesn’t see a point.

Then there’s your way, feeling blessed to be able to see things that no one else can, and finding a new reason to live every single day.

You two where polar opposites, but also the same. You where both alone in a universe you felt didn’t need you anymore.

The day both of your worlds collided should have been written down in the history books. It was the day both of your beliefs where almost questioned. Wondering whether fate really does exist.

————————————————

Out of the many things you have done, you’ve never visited the same place twice. Making everyday an adventure, as much of a cliche as that sounds it’s true. Not only that, but you seem to have people after you almost everywhere. For your intelligence, or for revenge. But there is one particular spot you cannot get enough of. Finding yourself there when you lose yourself.

It’s an isolated planet in the middle of the andromeda galaxy. It’s a newly ‘emerging moon’ as you like to call it. In fact, you pretty much founded this planet, since its a recent creation. This also means there is no intelligent life yet evolved, so it is safe for you to do what you please.

You go there often, to watch the two suns set over its small horizon and the thousands of stars come into view. Giving you time to reflect on your life. To appreciate it, but not to regret anything. The stars are far to beautiful to bring your mind to anything negative. The planet itself seems to project the meaning of peace and tranquillity even without life. Maybe that’s why it’s so comforting.

Your thoughts where leaving your mind, as you held your eyes closed. Feeling the breeze brush through your hair gently. That beautiful, genuine smile found its way to your face without you noticing. You where to lost in the feeling of relaxation.

But that soon came to an end. That euphoric state was snapped out of you when you noticed a bright light coming towards you. Getting bigger and bigger in just seconds. Until it became more clear, it was a spacecraft of some sort. A poorly built one to say the least. You sat and watched, mesmerised, as the flames from the object slowly engulfed it. Burning in the atmosphere. Finally hitting the ground, you shook your head and sighed. Being brought back into reality.

The flames took a second to fade after the ship had crashed. And it was clearer to see, it was the stereotypical UFO. The type you’d see in cheesy ski-fi films. But it had encryptions written in English. Which was very unusual, especially for it to be in this part of the galaxy.

What was even stranger was that it didn’t have even the slightest burn mark to it’s metal. Your vision of it became clearer and clearer the closer you got, slowly creeping past the incredibly green trees towards it. But just before you got too close, a figure fell out of the vehicle. Swearing like a drunken sailor.

This is what really messed with you, it was a human. You gasped quietly, not being able to remember the last time you saw one. A mix of feelings rushed over you; confusion, fear, excitement? You couldn’t help but stare, his unique blue hair bounced as he picked himself up, not even bothering to dust off the dirt on his lab coat.

“Fuck! You fucking piece of shit spacecraft. You’ve really done it this time Rick you fucking…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as he kicked the lump of metal. Screaming at the top of his voice.

“Fuck!”

You caught a small glimpse of his face, and recognised him. But you weren’t sure where from. You had met millions of people over the years so he could really be anyone. But there was something so compelling about his character. Something that felt like you where being pushed towards him. Or pulled, by a red string perhaps. Something that was just telling you to interact with him.

You stayed hidden behind a rather tall tree, still collecting your thoughts and questioning whether you should help him. Rick had slumped himself against the ship, putting his hands to his face and grunting. Pausing his breakdown for a second to take a sip from his flask, then proceeding to carry on.

He stayed like this for a good few minutes, before you had decided to approach him. Your curiosity and questions where burning at the edge of your mind. You just had to investigate. Keeping a hand on your weapon tucked neatly in a pocket behind your back. You slowly walked towards him, not even being able to speak before he noticed you.

A gun had been pulled to you, aiming directly between your eyes

“What do you want? I’m not in the mood so just tell me in advance if I should shoot you or not..” his eyebrows furrowed, looking at the hand tucked behind your back.

You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up in surrender. Just how you remembered humans to be. Aggressive and impulsive.

“Calm down, I saw your ship crash. Thought you where in need of some assistance. And put that gun down, god…” to your surprise, he did. With a loud grunt he put his gun back into his pocket and turned away. Usually, he probably would’ve shot on site. And who’s to say he still won’t, but right in this moment he is too preoccupied to care.

“God doesn’t fucking exist…” he mumbled “and I definitely don’t need any assistance!”

You raised an eyebrow at him, watching him as he attempted to fix his broken ship. Opening the lid to the engine and being greeted by a storm of smoke. Now Seconds away from another breakdown.

“Are you… okay?” You hesitantly asked, daring to inch closer to him. Probably was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. He threw the wrench down at the engine as he exploded.

“No, I’m not fucking okay. I lost my grandson, the entire galactic government is after me, I broke my portal gun and I just crashed my ship into a planet with no helpful resources to fix it.!” His speech sped up, and he went dead silent when he stopped talking. Clearly regretting telling you anything. He is usually good at keeping his mind together and keeping his problems to himself. But he had so much adrenaline pumping through his blood, he could barely concentrate.

“I’m, i’m sorry for your loss” is all you managed to get out

“What? Oh no, my grandsons not dead. I just left him somewhere and forgot exactly where…” he spoke slightly softer, still grunting as he tried to analyse his engine.

There was a small silence while you processed everything he had just said. Moving closer to get a look at his engine, you shook your head.

“You’ve burnt it out…”

“Yeah, no shit smart ass” he bit at you

You rolled your eyes and snatched the spanner from the place he had dropped it. Not using it to fix his engine, but you pulled out a small metal box from your pocket instead. Fixing a few pieces together. Rick stood there and watched with a puzzled look on his face. Moving his eyes from the gadget, then up to get a look at you.

His eyebrows softened as he took in your features, the creases in his forehead disappeared. A rush of a strange feeling replaced the adrenaline, not being able to pinpoint what it was but he didn’t like it. He could only describe it as his heart softening, and getting lost in a place that was familiar to him. Thats what he felt when he looked at your eyes, reflecting off of his.

“Hav-have we met before?” He said in a much calmer tone

You placed the gadget on the engine and pressed a small red button on the top, looking up at him.

“I don’t think so?” The box moved around the engine, like a shield. Fixing it effortlessly, Ricks eyes darted from you, to the engine, then back to you. Now with amazement written all over his face.

Deja vu was the only state good enough to describe what he was experiencing. You broke the silence by holding a hand out to introduce yourself.

“I’m y/n”

It took a quick second for him to respond, still trying to process your face and remember how he knows you.

“I’m… Rick” he finally shook your hand.

“Rick Sanchez..”

That name was oddly familiar to you. Like you’d heard it in a dream. Or it was a loved ones name in a past life. You felt like you had heard it before, in a very distant memory. But no recollection of the connection.

“That seems…familiar” you tilted your head, squinting your eyes at the old man who gave you the same look.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew me. I am the smartest man In the universe”

#rick sanchez #morty smith #rick x reader #x reader #fanfiction #fantasy #fanfic #headcannons #spacecraft #rick and morty #ocs #a lot of words #a lot of work #comedy #romance

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citrinesparkles · 3 years

Text

doctor todd.

jason todd x gender neutral vigilante!reader. 1,875 words. notes: requested by @jason-redhood as part of my hundred followers celebration! this got a lot longer than i intended, oopsies. thanks for requesting- hope you enjoy! warnings: tending wounds, mentions of food.

"y'know, lurking outside somebody's window is a good way to get yourself shot," jason called over his shoulder.

"i'll keep that in mind," you said, voice strained enough to shoot dread into his veins and draw his attention completely away from his work.

he set the gun he had been cleaning on the table and twisted around to find you gingerly sliding through the open window.

"hey," you mumbled, giving him a weak wave after your boots hit the floor. "sorry for not calling, i just..."

you were backlit, the glow of the city making it impossible to see your features from the dining area- but your posture alone was enough to have him shoving his chair back and crossing his apartment.

"how bad?" he asked, stopping a few steps back, now able to make out the tears in your suit and the bruises around your mask.

"pretty sure i sprained my wrist, and there's a poorly-bandaged gash on my leg, but otherwise i'm peachy."

"how bad's the leg?"

"i'm... not sure. bad enough that i think i need your help." you patted the windowsill with a gloved hand. "obviously."

he nodded and slid to your good side, gently resting a hand on your shoulder. "okay. c'mon, my stuff's in the bathroom."

"here." he handed you a pair of shorts and a large tank top. "change into this so i can get to the wounds, okay? i'll be right out here if you need anything."

"you're good!" you called.

he nudged the bathroom door back open and scooped your uniform up from the floor, carefully putting it in a canvas bag and tying the handles together before setting it in the tub to deal with later. "alright," he sighed, turning back to face you.

his clothes looked way too right on you, he realized, a wave of emotion he would vehemently deny surging through his chest and pushing heat to his neck and cheeks.

"alright?"

"okay. alright. uh-" he jerked a thumb at the counter- "up here, i guess, so i can see your leg."

you propped one foot on the toilet lid and braced your good hand against his shoulder, his hands instinctively coming up to hover around your waist as you pushed yourself up and settled next to the sink.

the grateful smile you gave him was enough to tug his lips into a smile of his own.

"you're up, doctor todd," you teased.

he stepped forward with a halfhearted eyeroll, fingers brushing the cloth tied hastily around your leg. "can i take this off?"

"go ahead."

he tugged gently at the knot, wincing when you inhaled sharply. "sorry."

the scrap fell away, revealing dried blood and an open wound on the outside of your thigh.

"yeesh, that is nasty," he said.

you scoffed lightly. "gee, thanks."

"hey, if you wanted a nice doctor, you probably should have gone somewhere else." he shifted to the side, grabbing a clean cloth and bottle of alcohol. "fair warning, you're really not gonna like me here in a minute."

your quick "i seriously doubt that." was greeted with a grin that felt a little too fond for his liking.

he told himself it was for your benefit.

...yeah, that sounded good.

he could live with that.

he made quick work of cleaning the gash, doing his best to distract you by making stupid small talk about the horrible movie he'd sat through that morning because the tv remote had been out of reach and the mediocre new coffee shop with dry blueberry muffins.

"was the coffee okay, at least?"

"okay, yeah, but not 'five-dollars-fifty' okay. if i hadn't been falling asleep in line i probably would have left when i saw the price."

"there's a nice one up by my place, they make the best blueberry muffins ever."

he hummed. "i'll keep that in mind, next time i'm over that way." he leaned back, studying your cut. "i think stitches would probably be smart."

you groaned. "of course they would."

"i'm okay to do them- i do them on myself- but if you want i can give you a lift to a hospital or something."

"no. if you can, i want you to do them. i trust you."

he sat with that for a minute, searching your face for any hesitation. when he found none, he nodded. "okay."

as you both expected, it sucked.

to make things worse, he was rapidly running out of mindless things to talk about.

how many times could two people really argue about pizza toppings before it got old?

"alright, done."

"holy shit, finally." you slumped back, leaning on your good hand for a moment before your head snapped back up. "no, not like- i meant thank you, you did great, i'm not being an ingrate-"

"i know, relax." he nudged your knee with a goofy smile. "here, gimme your wrist."

you pouted (which, yes, that was also adorable, much to his dismay), carefully stretching your bad arm out.

he took your hand gently, scooping it up in one of his and bracing your forearm up with his other. "it's actually not too bad, considering you hit hard enough to tear your glove. i'm gonna clean the scrapes here up, though, okay?"

"do i really get a choice?"

"it's your body, so, yeah."

you sighed dramatically. "fine, if you insist. go ahead, clean my wounds for me."

he was quiet this time, focusing intently on removing bits of dirt and stuff from your raw palm with a set of tweezers.

trying to ignore the way your eyes seemed to linger on him now that he was looking down.

he set the tweezers aside, glancing up at you to find you smiling at him thoughtfully, and dropped his gaze just as quickly as he had lifted it. "what, you enjoying making me do all the work?"

"you could say that, yeah."

he scoffed. "well, you're going to enjoy it a lot less in a second. time for the alcohol again."

"ugh."

he managed to dig up an old wrist brace in the back of his sock drawer. a little big for you, but it would work for now, he figured.

"may i?"

you nodded and held your arm back out for him to loop the brace over your thumb and tuck the velcro strap under and around, pulling it snug against your skin before sticking it to itself.

"last one, tough stuff." he pointed at your cheek, where a small patch of dried blood stained your skin. "ready?'

you nodded tiredly. "let's just get this over with. this counter isn't as comfortable as it looks."

he chuckled, dampening the softest cloth he had and wringing it out. "sorry, i didn't think i needed to get an apartment with counter cushions." he raised his left hand up, hovering an inch or so below your chin. "uh, can i..?"

your eyes widened, glancing at his hand. "oh, uh, sure. yeah."

he moved slowly, raising it to cup your chin softly with his middle and forefinger on one side and thumb on the other. "this okay?"

"mhm." your eyes slid shut and he could almost believe that you sank into his touch.

if it wasn't absolutely insane, anyway. his touch wasn't exactly the kind people sank into- much less people like you. people that good, that caring, that stunning? yeah, no.

he tilted your head to the side slightly, rubbing gentle circles across your cheekbone with the cloth and watching as the blood faded.

"so, who did this?" he asked softly, casually.

apparently not casually enough, though, because you snorted at him. "why, you think you need to go avenge me? defend my honor or something?"

"no! i'm just curious. just... making conversation."

your eyes opened, amusement dancing in them and threatening to hypnotize him. "good. i shouldn't have to tell you who won that fight, jay."

"well, i mean, you are missing a chunk of your thigh."

"aw, is the big bad vigilante worried about lil old me?"

he squeezed your face gently, pushing your cheeks up and forward into a goofy fish face. "it's rude to tease the guy tending to your wounds, babe."

he definitely didn't imagine your breath hitching. "babe, huh?" you asked playfully.

"shut up," he grumbled. "don't make me regret helping."

"alright, looks like that's the last scrape. you're all cleaned up."

"thanks, jason." you smiled up at him, soft and warm and genuine. "i really appreciate this."

"yeah, yeah." he squeezed your jaw again. "try not to make it a habit."

"mhm." a moment passed quietly before you spoke quietly. "so, you gonna do something here, or can i have my face back?"

he froze.

your mouth- which he was really trying not to look at- shifted into a confident smirk, a challenge written clearly in the angle of your lips.

your eyes, bright under the harsh lighting, told a different story. one of vulnerability, and want, and something close to fear.

"do you want me to?" his voice was hoarser than he'd intended, and he swore you could hear his heartbeat echoing in it.

your gaze dipped to his lips. "would it make everything super weird?"

"you just came crawling through my window in the middle of the night in a mask and kevlar. i think things are already weird."

he felt your hum under his fingers. "then why not?"

"do you really want me to answer that?"

"jason, will you please just kiss me already?"

"well, you did say please." he leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to slip away or yell 'sike!'

all you did was bring your good hand up to his collar and pull him towards you.

your lips were soft and gentle, and the way they pulled upwards slightly when his hand slid from your jaw to cup your cheek was something he'd be thinking about for weeks.

when he eventually pulled back, it took him a moment to open his eyes. he was half convinced that if he did, it would be to his bedroom ceiling, the past half an hour all a dream.

instead, he found your fond gaze.

"finally."

he let out a huff of laughter, thumb running over your cheek. "you should stay here tonight."

"w-"

"not like that," he clarified quickly. "you have stitches, you shouldn't go leaping across rooftops tonight. i can take the couch."

"hm." you smoothed out his shirt collar, the barely-there brush of your fingers against his shoulder almost tugging a whine out of him. "or i can take the couch, and then you can take me home in the morning and let me treat you to an actual blueberry muffin."

"are you asking me out?" it was a teasing comment, paired with a tiny smirk meant to fluster you.

but it was also a reality check.

you seemed to catch the second meaning. "yeah, i am. would you, please, let me take you out on a date?"

"i'll have to check my calenda-"

"you're so full of it."

"yeah, probably."

"is that a yes?"

he laughed, bringing his other hand up to squeeze your knee. "yeah, i can let you take me on a date. i could use a good muffin."

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cuttoothed · 3 years

Text

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

#the magnus archives #jonmartinweek2021 #tma #my fic #jonmartin #cw injury

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Useful Part 2

fluff with a little hurt and comfort. If you want answers as to the lack of angst, look through my recent posts for an explanation.

—* — * — * —* —*

“Wait, you have a WHAT?” were the first words that the rest of the Gotham-based vigilantes heard when they finally were able to track down where Damian had gone. Dick looked over at Bruce, who was noticeably tense. No surprise there, the man had just found out that he had a second biological child. One who was apparently a superhero already, without his intervention, and also apparently had a tragic background in the League of fucking Assassin Assholes. Not to mention that Damian’s track record with meeting siblings wasn’t great, even if this one wasn’t actually new to him. Nobody had any real fear of Damian relapsing on his no-kill rule, they knew he had matured far too much to be at risk of killing for something as immature as sibling rivalry anymore.

But there was still fear. Because this new Wayne was an Unknown Factor, and as a rule the Bats hated Unknown Factors. And they had no idea what the relationship between the two had been before they had been separated, or what it would become now.

“That wasn’t Damian’s voice,” Dick helpfully pointed out the obvious. Bruce only frowned, doing his best (and failing) to hide his anxiety about what they would find. Silently, the group inched forward to the edge of the abandoned building they were on top of so that they could look over at what was happening. What they saw was a girl, presumably the same one who had been in a ladybug onesie and had fearlessly begun to ask them to leave Paris— until she had laid proper eyes on Robin and fled, that was. That girl was sitting down next to an unmasked Damian, who had his arm around her shoulders and let her lean into his side. He even smirked cheerfully at her question before continuing to speak to her.

“A dragon-bat. I knew you’d love hearing about him, I’ll introduce you when you come visit the Batcave. His name is Goliath,” Damian admitted smugly. Despite the familiar attitude and pride behind his words though, his spying family couldn’t help but notice that he kept periodically rubbing the girl’s (they really needed to find out her name) shoulder in reassurance. None of them missed the tear tracks on both of their faces, or how red the girl’s eyes were. Clearly they had missed something big.

But nobody wanted to try to figure that out yet. This scene was too precious, too breathtaking for them to interrupt just yet. They had never seen Damian this vulnerable around someone outside of their little circle before, someone from the Time Before Bruce, no less. Most of the time, only Nightwing was able to see this side to Damian. And usually the roles were reversed, with Damian being the one consoled. They had never seen him in the position of the comforter before. The pillar of support.

It really cemented just how far he had come.

So they watched silently as the girl flinched, pulling away a bit and hunching in on herself. The laugh she let out was small and overflowing with self-degradation.

“You make it sound as if the rest of your family actually wants me to visit,” she replied sourly. Damian gently cuffed her over the head, frowning.

“Two things,” he held up two fingers from his free hand. “One: They will. They accepted me, and I was— well, you remember how I used to be. Once they actually meet you, and process the fact that there’s another Wayne now, they will bombard you with more welcoming than you will know what to do with. Two: It’s Our family, Marinette. Not mine, ours.”

Well, at least they had a name now. But it seems like they had bigger issues now, like Marinette’s clearly damaged sense of self. Jason and Tim traded knowing glances; it wasn’t hard for them to guess where, or how, she might have been damaged enough to think so lowly of herself.

They watched as Marinette shook her head.

“I don’t know. It’s one thing to try to… to get to know you again. We used to be close before… everything,” she haltingly argued, voice small and frail and uncertain. But she never once looked away from Damian’s eyes, trying to convey as best as she could what she was feeling. “But they’re different. They don’t have any reason to trust or like me, Dami. And I’m bad at, well everything, but especially,” she waved her hands frantically as if indicating the whole situation they were in. “I mean, listen to me! I can barely articulate right now, and I’m talking to someone I’ve known my whole life! I’m a mess. Nobody wants a mess.”

It was Damian’s turn to snort, and he pulled her right back into his side. “Please. If anything, that’s exactly the type of child Father goes looking for. We’re all a mess. Especially Father, trust me.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” she accused suspiciously, but sank into his sideways embrace anyway. Damian chuckled.

“No, I’m being honest. He’s terrible at emotions, not that I really have much room to talk. We all are pretty bad with them. But he’s the most obvious when it comes to that issue,” Damian smirked over at his sister conspiratorially. “For example. He still tries to tell people that he works alone, and pushes people away because he has this intense desire to protect, but doesn’t know how to say “I don’t want you to get hurt, stop worrying me,” so instead he says “Go away, I don’t need you,” only for us to see through that nonsense and remind him that the amount of people in his team is in the double digits already. He doesn’t want to admit he cares about us and is vulnerable—”

“Sounds familiar,” Marinette teased with a watery grin, startling a short laugh from her twin. He nudged her a little roughly (but not to roughly) and playfully glared at her. Marinette just giggled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied with a grin before waving his free hand in dismissal. “Anyway. Another example. He has no idea how to tell a stranger, “hey, I’m your father and I will not reject you. In fact, I’m completely willing to adopt you right this moment and whisk you away to Gotham and relative safety and hire an entire team of therapists to help you and buy you half the world if you asked for it,” so instead he and the rest of our emotionally constipated family just lurks on the edge of a building in broad daylight eavesdropping on us and expects us not to notice.”

“Wait what,” Marinette’s gaze instantly whipped up towards the sky, taking only half a second to locate the aforementioned eavesdroppers. Everyone except Bruce at least had the courtesy to duck down and pretend not to be there when they noticed she had seen them, leaving Batman standing seemingly alone on the concrete roof. Marinette blinked once. Twice. Then turned to Damian. “I’m gonna blame the fact that I didn’t notice them on emotional turmoil, because there is no way I’ve gotten THAT rusty.”

Damian smiled, but didn’t laugh. He knew that was a deflection to try and distract from Marinette’s quickly resurging self-consciousness. Her hands were already trembling again, and the fear from only minutes ago had resurfaced. The insecurity. He could practically see the words “I’m not good enough,” written in her irises.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her with him. “If anyone has to worry here, it’s me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marinette whisper-hissed right back, eyes wide in disbelief and confusion. “You’re— You! Mister Perfect!”

Damian rolled his eyes, and his self-deprecating smirk matched the laugh Marinette had given just a few minutes earlier. “For the League, maybe,” he shrugged. “Never the Wayne family. Which is why I know you’ll be fine. If they put up with everything I’ve done and still call me one of them, they’ll accept you with barely a second thought.”

Marinette’s next argument was cut off by the sound of a dozen soft footfalls stirring up dirt not far ahead of them. The BatClan had landed from the rooftop.

Marinette gulped.

But if there was one thing— one thing she still remembered from her days as Marie Al-Ghul, it was how to fake pride and confidence. She straightened her shoulders automatically, lifted her chin, and pulled away from Damian’s supporting arm around her shoulder. Damian let her.

A little bit of old resentment flared up in him as he saw Batman walk up close enough to comfortably talk with them. Resentment that he no longer held onto, but that had haunted him nearly every night of the first two years he spent with his dad. The realization that maybe his twin was the one that was meant to be a Wayne. Marie had the blue eyes, the compassion, the more specifically detective-oriented mind. The calm head. Sometimes. Marie was exactly who he imagined when he thought of a naturally born member of the BatClan. Stubborn, clever, morally just. She had risked immediate death just because she refused to fight him, for crying out loud. Because she didn’t want to hurt the boy who used to be her best friend. The only ally she had ever had, growing up.

Meanwhile, he still had issues reigning in his anger sometimes. He had too much blood on his hands, he was more of a battlefield tactician than a long-term strategist. Still stubborn, but also completely unaware of the pain he brought others with his words or actions a lot of the time. He used to be such a rage fueled little demon, and thinking about how his sister fit the classic Wayne outline more thoroughly than he did had made him destroy more than a few practice dummies in frustration.

But now, looking at Marinette trying so hard to appear strong and proud when he knew she was still so shattered inside, relief overpowered the old and dull resentment. This was what she needed, he could sense that easily. She, just like him all those years ago, needed Bruce and the others to start to heal her and reforge what the League had badly molded.

“... Marinette, I suppose?” Damian nearly facepalmed at his father’s awkward attempt at a conversation starter. Marinette herself was clearly too keyed up and overthinking things to even register any amusement at the lame attempt, merely nodding with an overly serious expression on her face.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Monsieur Wayne. Or that’s my name nowadays, that is,” She stumbled a little in her response before clenching her fists and forcing herself to continue as calmly as she could muster up. “My birth name was Marie Al-Ghul.”

Bruce’s eyebrows visibly furrowed underneath his cowl. “Was?”

“I…” Marinette finally looked away, shame creeping back onto her face. “I was explicitly told that I was stripped of the Al-Ghul name and would be killed if I ever dared lay claim to it again. So I not-so-legally changed it. And I was later adopted.”

Several sharp gasps or the hiss of breath through teeth bit through the quiet breeze. Nobody was necessarily surprised, Marinette could see it when she looked through her eyelashes and examined the winces and sympathy on the faces of the vigilantes before her. Batman’s shoulders were stiff, as if someone had paralyzed only his shoulder blades.

“And the people who adopted you?” Batman pursued. Marinette couldn’t read his tone very well, but it sounded vaguely angry so she quickly raised her hands in a placating gesture and her eyes widened significantly.

“They’ve been amazing! They don’t know anything about my past, or who raised me, but they are endlessly patient with me. I mean, honestly! Sabine caught me when I was trying to steal one of her gold bracelets in Hong Kong— and I know I’ve never been as good of a combatant as Dami, but I’ve always been better at sleight of hand and stealth so honestly that’s impressive— and she saw my dirty eight-year-old face and for some reason decided, ‘yeah I want this one as my daughter’ and roped Tom right into it and next thing I know they somehow tailed me to my hideout? I still don’t know how the hell they managed that, but Tom had a huge plate of steaming buns and I was so hungry and suddenly it’s two years later and I’m adopted and we’re on a plane to Paris—” Marinette threw up her hands. “I still don’t fully grasp what happened sometimes.”

She belatedly seemed to realize that she had just gone on an entire breathless rant at the speed of sound, and slapped her hands over her mouth before lunging into a deep bow. “I apologize! I spoke horridly out of turn!”

To her surprise though, she was met with a soft laugh instead of a scolding. She jerked in surprise, whipping her head up only to see Batman holding a hand over his chin to hide his large grin. It only took another second for the boys behind him to laugh a lot LESS softly. Nightwing strolled over casually and swung an arm around both her and Damian’s shoulders, playfully nudging her brother with his knee.

“I think she fits right in, don’t you little D?”

“Of course,” Damian scoffed, though his eyes were playful. “She is a Wayne by blood. She ‘fits in’ more than you strays.”

“Dami!” Marinette whipped back to him and puffed out her cheeks. “That was uncalled for!” she barked. Damian held his hands up in surrender.

“Relax,” he said as soothingly as he could manage. “They know I’m joking,” he dropped his hands and a knowing smirk took over his face. “And besides, now you’re relaxed so my plan worked,” Marinette could only blink at that. She… did feel more relaxed, actually. “Also. I told you you’d be accepted easily. They already consider you one of us.”

“Wha— there’s no way—” she frantically looked at each of the older men around her, but each of them just shot her a smile or grin and a short nod. Her shoulders and jaw both fell, and it broke a little of everyone’s heart.

Marinette looked so utterly shocked, bewildered to be accepted as if it was still something profoundly foreign to her. And there was that disbelief in her eyes, that distrust that screamed that she expected some sort of lie here. That told that she thought this would all crumble away at any second. If anyone had any reservations about bringing her into their inner circles, it vanished right that moment. She needed support, or she’d crumble away and they all knew it.

“How about we start by talking about the situation with Hawkmoth?” Red Robin spoke up, walking forward to stand beside Batman. “I assume that’s a little more in your element?”

Damian silently vowed to thank Tim later for that. In a silent, completely anonymous way of course. Couldn’t have Tim thinking they were friends or something now, could he? Marinette instantly straightened up and nodded, her confidence returning with a little more sincerity this time.

“Yeah. Yeah, let me transform again. It’ll be easier to explain.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was three weeks later, on Marinette’s third now-weekly visit to the Batcave, when the question finally came up. Jason had asked to spar with Marinette for the first time, having seen her in action as Ladybug and wanting to test the girl when she didn’t have superpowers to rely on. Damian hadn’t been down in the cave to warn him, and the result was Jason’s gut sinking as Marinette scrambled as far away from him as she could, eyes wide and chest heaving in the beginnings of a panic attack.

“Shit,” Jason muttered before he quickly knelt down and did his best to talk her down, to calm her until her breathing slowed and her pupils were back to normal. It wasn’t long afterwards that Marinette started hugging herself, refusing to look at him. But he wasn’t going to just back down, he wanted to solve this issue. If even the mere suggestion of a spar was enough to set her off, he needed to figure out why and fix it.

So he carefully lowered himself so he was sitting only a foot away from her, resting his arms across his knees casually.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t think it would be a sore subject. That’s on me.”

Marinette just shrugged, but didn’t answer him. She just buried her face in her arms and took a shaky breath.

Jason let the silence linger for a while before trying again. “Does this have to do with certain Asshole Assassins?”

That startled a slightly hysterical bark of laughter from her, and she had to wipe away a few tears when she raised her head and finally turned it in his direction slightly. Not enough for her to be looking at him, but just a subtle turn to show that she was listening and speaking to him. “Yeah.”

“You know, you never told us why you got disowned,” Jason tried to make his words as casual as possible, but wasn’t surprised when Marinette still stiffened and took a sharp breath. He didn’t push. The stage was set, and he’d wait until either she took the opportunity to open up or told him to leave well enough alone. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and her foot tapped on the ground a bit. Clear signs of her anxiety around the subject, and Jason’s hopes vanished a little. He would probably have to wait longer for her to be ready to share.

But, to his pleasant surprise, he was wrong. She took another few minutes to gather her thoughts, but she did eventually open up to him.

“I refused to fight Damian,” she admitted. “It was… We were seven. It wasn’t supposed to be a fight to the death, but it was a very important spar. We were using live weaponry, and we were told to fight until we couldn’t anymore. Whoever fell first would be relegated as a mere soldier, and have to fight for status like any other assassin in the League. The winner would officially be named as G— as Ra’s Heir. I didn’t want to fight, because I knew Damian would win but I also knew that it wouldn’t be as easy as Ra’s probably expected if I gave it my all like he wanted. I knew both Damian and I would be heavily injured if I did as he asked, and it wouldn’t be worth it. If I misjudged anything, any single hit, I could have accidentally injured Damian permanently and ruined his worth in Ra’s eyes, and that wasn’t an option. I didn’t care that throwing the fight was as good as giving up my life, because at least I could be sure that Damian kept his. I could make sure that he was treated well, or as well as anyone could hope for in the League anyway. I could, with only a few words, make sure he became indispensable. Ra’s and Talia never liked me as much as Damian anyway, I figured… I figured it was nobody’s loss,” She swallowed heavily, clenching her eyes shut. “I was always just the spare. The extra. Damian was their crown prince, the one with actual value. Even to me. I saw him, and I saw everything I wanted to be. I… I tossed down my weapons and let him stab me, because I figured I owed it to him for being such a failure in comparison to him. That I owed it to him to do everything I could to make things easier for him, since I was just an unnecessary obstacle—” strong arms wrapped around her, and she turned to sob into Jason’s chest as he just silently held her.

“Idiot,” Damian whispered, making Marinette jump. Her twin sat only a few feet away, though only Jason would have known when exactly he had gotten there with them. He shook his head at her. “I never would have gotten as far as I did without you,” he whispered, looking up at the cave ceiling. “You were the only real rival I had. When you left, everything was either too easy or nearly impossible, nothing was the same as trying my best against someone who was just as good as me. And when I got here and met the others, I didn’t think any of them were worthy of taking your position, you know,” he scoffed a bit as he got lost in his memories. “That’s why I hated Tim for so long, I think. He reminded me of you so much that I wanted nothing more than to punch him for daring to replace you—”

“Heh, the Replacement twice over, huh?” Jason joked. Damian chuckled with a small eye roll.

“Plus, he just has a really punchable face,” Damian added, trying to distract from the emotion behind everything he had just admitted. “Part of me thought you were dead. The other part refused to believe that. And seeing Tim and how some of his mannerisms were the same as yours,” Damian shrugged a little. “It stung. Especially that second year, when I started to regret that you never had the chance to come here and join them with me. Meet them with me.”

Marinette sniffled. “... Who are you and what have you done with Dami? He’s never this sappy.”

Damian flicked a pebble at her head with a good natured glare, successfully diffusing the serious air a little. Marinette wouldn’t ever be normal, and it would take a while before she was no longer fragile, but she could get there. Especially now that her bridges with her brother had been mended, and and a whole new family had cropped up to help support her.

She was glad Damian had convinced her to try, again.

#maribat #platonic daminette #sibling daminette #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #ml x dc #mlb x dc #Useful

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iceprincessviviane · 3 years

Text

Flowers of the peace

Pairing: c!Technoblade x Fem!Nymph!Reader

Type: Romantic/fluff; oneshot.

Warnings: mild swearing, mention of angst and injury and silly jokes created by me.

Summary: Technoblade is travelling to the center of smp to get some buisness done. He met Y/n and finally decided to talk with her about a very important case for him. Including more characters.

Words in red colour are Technoblade's voices.

My first x reader fic, spontaneous one.

Today was a quite warm day even in tundra, small layer of snow was covering the ground and sky was half covered by the clouds, which weren't moving a lot. Around was very quiet despite the time, it was almost noon. Animals were resting or sleeping, deadly hound lied calmly around. It seemed, it was such a lazy day. Technoblade went outside holding small backpack and putting something into it. He tied his hair into small bun, rest of them was falling on his back and he was wearing part of casual armor. Phil seeing that, also went outside.

"Hi mate, where are you going?" He asked curiously with gentle smile.

"I'm heading to main Smp part. I have some buisness to finish with Ranboo. I hope in that time it won't be crowded." He responeded and closed backpack.

They both looked at old Ranboo's home in mountain wall. Actually there still were some basic stuff, active farm and some villagers. Enderman hybrid moved to his and Tubbo's mansion in Snowchester two weeks ago. They kinda missed him, but he promised to visit them a lot of times and even stay for some cold weather and fresh air. Also he was still involved in Syndicate stuff.

"Be careful mate then." Philza said with serious tone.

'We miss Enderboy.' 'Let's do it fast.' 'Who will we meet else?'

Technoblade nodded and took Karl. He put a small backpack near the saddle and check everything. Diamond armor was shinning brightly in the sunlight.

"I will don't worry, I just hope to not meet Tommy..." His eyes narrowed. He still didn't forget and forgive young boy.

"Well just avoid bench area. You are going to meet Ranboo in Snowchester?"

"He said that he will be around Community House or Prime path."

"Tell him my sincere greetings." Phil smile widened.

Technoblade jumped at Karl and waved to his companion. Soon he was headed to main Smp part. Today wasn't the day for using a portals. Beautiful weather was conductive for horse riding. Karl seemed to be happy at sudden trip.

}*{

After a two hours Technoblade reached the Community House. He could go to Snowchester first, but honestly he wanted to avoid that area, which smelled like government. He dismounted Karl and took his bridle. Not a chance leaving his horse alone. Here was much warm then in tundra, not coulds and even wind stopped. Around wasn't even a single soul, so he sighted and started to walking down on Prime path. Karl was complelty calm, so he trusted him, but checked his sword, if he can take it fast. When he got near to Tommy's dirt house, he heard Tommy's loud laughing. After reaching the top of the hill he spotted Bench Trio standing there and chatting. Suddenly three pair of eyes looked at him. There was dead silence. Tubbo moved near to Ranboo when Tommy put a hand on Axe of Peace, which hanged of his bolt. They don't have armour, clearly having a good time in this lazy day. Technoblade nodded to them.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked with sharp tone.

Since Dream have been in the prison Smp was more calm, most people was minding their buisness, the biggest war was over and it seemed like everyone sighted with relief. Even now this Eggpire cleaned awful vines. Tommy started building his hotel, none was fighting.

"I came here to finish buisness." Techno responed slowly moving his eyes on Ranboo.

Tall teenager looked at his clock, gave himself a facepalm and sighted.

"Oh I am so sorry, I wasn't watching the time..." He said with embarrassment.

"What the fuck man? What deal did you make with him?" Tommy spoke with anger.

'Why he need to be so loud?' 'Just make it done.' 'Cut him.'

Technoblade moved a little bit closer and Ranboo started to search something in his backpack, mumbled to himself.

"Oh... hi everyone...!"

On the path leading to La'Manhole now was standing Y/n with basket full of field flowers and some saplings of roses, tulips and pansies. Her light dress was waving a little on sudden wind and bright smile caused everyone to smiled back.

"Hi Y/n!" Tubbo said and get closer to look at flowers. "Where did you get them?"

"Filed flowers around the... La'Manburg and saplings are from my own flowerbends. You asked me to bring some to your garden and rooms." She responed slowly.

"Oh yes! We asked Foolish of possible ways to decorate garden and flowers for a bees!" Tubbo said with excitement.

When it comes to the bees, Tubbo could talk over and over. Y/n was patience and describe in details flowers which she brought. Meanwhile Tommy moved his eyes again on Technoblade only to rise eyebrows with surprise. Piglin hybrid was like frozen, carefuly observing Y/n. Teenager lips formed into mischief smile.

"I found it!" Ranboo screamed in victory, holding something like gold in his big hand.

Technoblade snapped back to reality and nodded to Enderboy, to move away. He didn't want rest to know, what about deal is. They moved to bench. Karl snorted a little bit.

"Here it is." Ranboo opened his hand, Totem of Undying was inside. Technoblade smiled and nodded to him with satisfied smile.

"As we agreed emeralds and netherite ingot."

They made an exchange, Technoblade quickly hid Totem in his pocket and Ranboo put stones and ingot inside his backpack.

"Pleasure making buisness with you." Blade said with teasing tone.

"You too and I have more, if you want."

" We will see in the future."

Enderman hybrid moved his eyes on his husband and Y/n, there were still chatting peacefuly. Tommy was listening quietly and seemed that he lost interesting at their deal.

'Finally!' 'Let's go home.' 'Maybe stay for a while...'

"Deal is done?" Tommy asked loudly causing Tubbo and Y/n to look at Technoblade and Ranboo.

"Yes. We are done." Piglin hybrid confirmed in neutral voice.

Ranboo moved closer to group, leaving Technoblade with Karl. They stepped again on path after that.

"I think we can head to Snowchester then. Y/n has everything to make gardening and I am willing to help her!" Tubbo clapped hands.

"Yup. I am going to choose my room finally." Tommy emphasized last word strongly.

"Oh you shloud do the same Y/n. As we promised, you can decorate it as you wish." Ranboo said with warm smile.

Y/n lifted head and her eyes meet Techno's. His cute ears dropped a little, but he moved closer to them. Tommy stepped a little to avoid crash with Karl. Soft smile appeard on Y/n lips.

"Technoblade."

"Y/n."

Bench Trio silenced immediately, they could feel the tension in the air. After La'Manburg destruction Y/n lost her home, actually she was neighbor with Ranboo there, but she managed to build one small house in wild fields full of flowers, which was quite away. The closest things were Kinoko Kingdom and Niki's Underground City. Sometimes she wandered to La'Manber ruins and after that usually hanging up with Tommy. She visited Ranboo couple of times in tundra and even had a small talk with Phil. But when Technoblade showed up... they shared awkward silence and shy glances, which were speaking instead of words.

In his retirement they spent a lot of time together, despite the cold in tundra. Her peacefuly pressence caused voices to melt, only quiet whispers appeard. When she was speaking, they were always silence. Technoblade could listen and observe her for ages. They were so diffrent, but something connected them and attraced them to each other. She was standing with Phil on balcony, holding his hand so hard and tears streaming from her beautiful eyes, when Technoblade have been lead to execution. He later told him that Y/n almost fainted when he survived and escaped. She stayed in threshold, knocking sotfly at cottage doors, same day, late night and silence around. When he opened, he immediately put a finger on her mouth and whispering explained that Tommy somehow escaped exile and was sleeping in cellar. So Y/n said nothing, when Technoblade let her in, just hugged him so tightly and burried her face in his chest. With smelling her scent, he calmed himself and slowly forget about rage and happenings on that day.

But after Doomsday everything changed. Technoblade was busy with revenge, deep inside he didn't want to involved Y/n for her safety... but they moved away from each other. She need to build new house, didn't want to completly leave her friends around. Especially when Tommy and Tubbo found in her big comfort. She visited Tommy in exile couple of times, always bringing warm words and usefull advices. After Discs Finale, when Dream have been put into a prison, they needed her a lot. Tommy would never confessed that he had nightmares about Tubbo's death and himself being trapped in cell. Technoblade was busy with forming Syndicate, spending days on planning, building and searching stuff. He heard from Ranboo how Y/n was doing, but there always weren't time to talk.

And now they were here.

'We miss her angelic voice.' 'Stop staring, do something.' 'Stab Tommy.'

"I really don't want to interrupt this strange moment, but..." He couldn't even end, because Technoblade stepped at his foot. His shoes had small heels and was shod with metal.

Y/n giggled softly breaking eye contact with Technoblade and blushed a little bit.

"Can we talk?" Blade asked with deep voice.

"Of course." She nodded then handed her basket to Tubbo. He immediately straigthed his back, because of this important task. Technoblade gave without hesitation Karl's bridle to Ranboo, which eyes expanded and he grabbed it with his full strenght. When horse would run away... oh boy.

"It looks like we got important tasks." Tubbo said with full serious in his voice.

Ranboo nodded to him, when Tommy literally rolled his eyes.

Technoblade and Y/n moved slowly and silently aside, stepping away from path and walking on grass. She faced the sun, pulling her hair together, it laid freely on her back. Some strands still stayed on her face and Technoblade had to use his all strenght to resist taking them off. He just couldn't. Her scent full of flowers reached his nose, taking deep breath felt like heaven.

"Weather is very good." He started slowly and little unsure.

Y/n turned back to him with shy smile, studing hia posture. "Oh yes, it's warmer this days. My flowers age growing fast and I really enjoy the sun." She glanced at him. " Isn't too hot for you in this cape?"

"Well, I am still living in tundra and come on, style is breathtaking "Technoblade spread a little his arms.

Y/n could easily spotted part of armor on his arms and legs. It wasn't his best one, but he was still prepared for any fight. Yes, he looked very good, handsome. She couldn't help her slighty blushing cheeks.

"Are you moving to the mansion?" Techno finally asked, his voice was dead serious.

Y/n looked directly at his eyes with surprise. She didn't expect such a question. "No, I mean they offered me room, to stay in longer visits or if I would like to have a nap. I really enjoy their company."

He made a step closer and lean down, almost forgot how small she was compared to him. They both felt burning glances of Bench Trio.

"I miss you." He whispered honestly.

'We are missing her voice, scent and pressence.' 'We need her.' "We want her.'

"I... I miss you too." She responded quietly.

Pleased smile crawled at Technoblade's lips. Deep inside he was really happy about that, but didn't want to show it in front of Bench Trio. Y/n looked down with sudden shyness.

He took gently her small, compared to his hand. She squeezed lightly his fingers in response. "Would you like to...?"

"Y/n! We need to go, hurry up!" Tubbo screamed while was holding her basket.

"Yeah come one, we have a lot of stuff to do!" Tommy agreed.

Technoblade sighted after this rude cut, but Y/n shrugged with helplessness and playful smile. She hugged him tightly for goodbye, his second hand rested on her flabby waist.

"Meet me here after sunset." She whispered before letting him go.

He nodded before he let go of her hand. Y/n waved to him and went to Trio Bench. Ranboo gave Techno Karl's bridle. He observed while group was heading to Snowchester, then he jumped at horse and started to moving into tundra's direction.

}*{

Technoblade left Karl in hurry, then almost ran into a cottage. Phil frowned observing this from his window, but then shrugged and went take care of his cases. An hour passed and he heard some suspicious sounds from Techno's home, also him swearing. He decided to see what is going on, so went outside and knocked loudly. His friend opened. "Hi Phil, I'm a little busy right now..."

"What happend mate?" Winged man asked looking inside.

"I need to clean whole area..." He sighted with awkward smile.

"But why?"

Technoblade said nothing, it was a little too early to talk about it. "You... need some help honestly?"

"I will be so greatful!" Techno said and went beck to cleaning. Actually he successfuly tided first floor and kitchen, for now put food into a chest and cups into cupboard.

"Chests in magazine too?" Phil asked looking at his friend with confusion. Technoblade made facepalm. "I completly forgot about them... she would like to have order there!" He dropped everything and went down. His companion rose eyebrows with surprise. She?

}*{

Heading second time to main Smp part was faster and full of unsure feelings for Technoblade. Karl seemed to be happy of another trip. When they again reached top of the hill, she was there. Y/n stood near bench in his old crimson cloak, hemmed by fur, watching the sunset. Slowly crimson glow was turned into grey. Horse snorted and she turned head to greet him with warm smile. Technoblade responded with lazy smile and dismount Karl. Moving slowly to her, spotted that she was holding avaraged size, lether backpack and near the bench was closed chest.

"Hi again." Blade said with smile. "I am little bit late but I hope that you wasn't waiting long."

"I actually just came here. Boys let me left mansion three hours ago." She giggled softly.

"You got your room in mansion?"

"Yes... we decorated it with Ranboo's and Tubbo's furnitures."

"So... you have in this chest more personal stuff to put there?" Technoblade asked taking deep breath.

Y/n ignored the question and smiled softly to him. "What did you want me to ask earlier?"

"Well... I think it doesn't matter now." His shoulder dropped.

She looked directly into his eyes. "It matters, because the answer is yes."

Technoblade moved closer with visible confusion. "What?"

"Yes. I am ready for a trip, I have this cloak if it happen to be very cold and even have gloves in pocket."

He studied her figure quickly, under cloak she was wearing warm, woolen dress, completly diffrent that early, light one. High boots and hair braided tightly.

"No." Technoblade looked at her in disbelief.

Y/n nodded and her smile widened. In a blink of eye piglin hybird hugged her tightly. She rested her head against his chest, feeling heat from his body.

'She is going with us.' 'We can't belive.' 'Hurry up, before someone will show up.'

"Let's go, you have to be tired." Technoblade said after a few minutes. He took her chest and pinned it to saddle, Karl stayed calmly. She pated his neck, smiling softly. Blade mounted horse and offer her his hand to help. She grabbed it strongly and sat down sideways.

"Karl can lifted us both?" She asked unsure.

"He lifted heavier things than you sweetheart, you can belive me, he will be good." Techno smiled, he always was impressed by her caring way.

Y/n hugged his waist and again rested her head against his chest. The trip was quietly, they enjoyed each other pressence, when they reached tundra, night fell and snow started slowly rain. Finally they stopped in front of Technoblade's house. Deadly hound didn't even react to new person nearbay and bears was sleeping peacefuly around. Piglin hybrid first dismounted Karl and help Y/n by grabbing her waist and put her on the ground. She nodded in gratitude and grabbed his hand. He took her chest and they reached the stairs.

"You didn't introduce me new visitor?" Phil's voice caught them near doors. Winged man stood in his threshold with crossed arms and playful smile.

"Hi Phil." Y/n said and blushed hardly.

"Tomorrow my friend. You shloud go to the sleep old man." Technoblade teased him.

"I hope you will be gentelman and offer lady a separate bed." Phil winked to them and then went inside his house. "Goodnight lovebirds."

Blade rolled his eyes and opened doors for Y/n. She went inside and looked around carefuly. Nothing changed at all, but maybe one thing...

"You... cleaned whole house." She giggled softly.

"Oh yes and I even created some spare place in cellar for your flowers." He put her chest on the ground and closed door. Their eyes met. Technoblade quickly had covered the distance between them, then cupped her face and gently pressed their lips together. Y/n breathing quickened, same as his heartbeating. After a kiss, their hands found themselfes, when Techno lean his forehead against her.

"I love you." He whispered softly.

"I love you too." She responded quietly.

'We love her.' 'We are going to take care of her.' 'Never, ever let her go again.'

#c!techno x you #c!technoblade x you #c!technoblade x reader #technoblade #dsmp fandom #dream smp #technoblade x reader #technoblade x y/n #dream smp x reader

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spyrothesquish-0006 · 3 years

Note

Can I ask about the brothers visiting an MC in a coma, assumedly sometime after they left their 1 year school year at Devildom? Also would it be bad to ask for a platonic/familial relationship instead of romantic?

How the brothers react to visiting GN!MC in a coma (platonic)

Warnings: None besides hospital and coma mentions, also if you're uncomfy with platonic kisses I'm sorry 😢 I see Asmo as very touchy-feely so even if it's a strictly platonic/familial relationship, it would not be rare for him to kiss your cheeks. And platonic requests are always fine! I hope you enjoy!😊

Lucifer:

• surprisingly was not the first to find out, but once he did, he was quick to be at your side

• depending on how you got to be in a coma changes his reaction

• if it's because someone hurt you, Lucifer will be on a war path to make whoever did it pay dearly for hurting someone in his family

• if it's because of an accident, his worry over you will increase, never wanting to see you in such a state again

• will take whatever measures necessary to make sure you stay safe once you wake up

• if the coma is due to an illness, Lucifer will do everything in his power to get you the best treatment possible

• only the best doctors and nurses are fit to care for his family

• if allowed, he will move you to a devildom hospital to be treated

• will not be leaving your side any time soon

• if you thought this demon didn't sleep before, it's even worse now

• he will stay by your side and hold your hand until he sees your eyes open again

• the paperwork in his office might pile up, but honestly he couldn't care less

• you become his #1 priority

• would often pet his hand over your hair and talk to you at night

• even if you can't hear him, he still tells you how important you are to him and his brothers

• "We're all worried about you, MC. You need to wake up. Please.."

Mammon:

• the minute he knows you're in the hospital he takes off, not even stopping long enough to learn why or that you're in a coma

• completely loses it when he sees you in the hospital bed

• it's a mix between fear of losing you, and anger at whatever it is that put you in that coma

• even if it was in no way his fault, he still blames himself for not being there to protect you

• still feels a bit guilty even if it's something completely out of his control, like an illness

• will be by your side any chance he gets

• definitely tries to curl up in the hospital bed with you

• if he isn't allowed to/there isn't enough space, he will curse until the entire hospital knows infernal curse words

• nothing gets between him and MC, that's his family!

• if for some reason he has to leave your side, his crows are stationed outside your window until he gets back to watch over you

• would call in any favors he has to if it means paying for the best medical care, or finding healing potions

• he remembers Satan once saying how if someone is in a coma, that they can still hear

• he often talks to you as if you're awake and responding, late night conversations lessening his worry about you, but sometimes these end in tears if he gets too carried away, knowing you're not responding and might not any time soon

• "Be a good human and wake up, won't ya? You got us all so worried, and it ain't fair."

Levi:

• once he hears the words "MC" and "Hospital" in the same sentence, he has the worst panic attack imaginable

• accidentally summons Lotan and destroys part of the HoL in his panic

• races to the hospital, not caring who he has to talk to or push past to get to you

• all he cares about is his Henry being okay!

• hospitals aren't really his favorite place, being filled with people and germs, but he will stay by your side until you wake up, no exceptions

• he basically moves into your hospital room

• brings his and yours favorite handheld games and plays them all hours of the day and night

• doesn't want to fall asleep in case you wake up

• even though it makes him a blushy mess, he sits on the edge of your hospital bed and keeps his tail firmly wrapped around your hand to "hold" it while he plays video games

• even if you aren't awake, he still watches your favorite animes with you, hoping that maybe the sound of it will make you want to open your eyes

• "Hey, MC, this is your favorite episode right? Do you think maybe you could open your eyes and watch it with me?"

Satan:

• once he knows you're in a coma he rushes to the hospital and immediately sets to work questioning every doctor and nurse that's treating you

• wants to know everything, why you're in a coma, for how long, what can he or any of his brothers do to help you?

• if the doctors treating you are not to his standards, he will throw a temper tantrum until better ones are brought in for you

• refuses to even entertain the idea that you might not wake up

• he gets very irratible with everyone and everything, but it's only because of how worried he is about you

• he may be pissy and quick to let his temper flare, but he's nothing but gentle with you

• he always holds your hand, sitting by your bedside and reading to you to calm his wrath and worry

• he picks only your favorite books, eyes flicking expectantly between the pages and you when he gets to your favorite parts, hoping that just maybe they'd excite you enough to wake up

• "MC, I brought your favorite again. We left off on chapter 6 right? I know your favorite part is coming up, so give my hand a little squeeze once we get to it, okay?"

Asmo:

• nearly faints when he hears you're in a coma

• once he's at the hospital, he demands to know everything

• Who, what, where, when, he accepts nothing but the most thorough answers possible

• is so wracked with worry that he actually forgets his own routines while he takes care of you, not bothering with his lengthy skincare routine or his beauty sleep, instead focusing on yours

• even if you're out cold, you still should be looking your best and be taken care of!

• after all, he would never leave his family helpless to take care of themselves

• he often talks to you while he brushes your hair or does your skincare for you, never wanting to let you fall behind on the gossip

• talking to you also keeps his nerves in check, often falling asleep while he fills you in on what everyone has been up to

• if he doesn't fall asleep while talking to you, he most likely ends up sleeping while scrolling through devilgram posts, curled up in your bed with you so he can still cuddle you until you wake up

• while he holds you he often peppers your face in gentle kisses, murmuring his affections for you and saying how much all of his brothers care about you

• he'd often call you sleeping beauty at night, but now that nickname leaves a bitter taste in his mouth

• "Do me a favor darling and wake up, hmm? It's so boring without you to talk to. If you wake up soon, I'll take you on a shopping spree, alright?"

Beel:

• worried sick once he knows you're in a coma, rushing to the hospital and refusing to leave your side

• he doesn't even feel hungry as he watches over you, far too worried about you being okay to think about eating for once

• seeing you so fragile looking in the hospital bed reminds him too much of losing Lilith

• plants himself by your bed and is incredible gentle while he holds your hand

• he knows how strong he is, and seeing you in a hospital bed makes him even more wary about accidentally hurting you

• he does have to eat eventually, almost snacking on things in the hospital room before a worried nurse got him some food from the cafeteria

• it may not be the best quality, but he honestly doesn't care that much

• if it means he can stay by your side, he'd eat dirt

• despite how worried he is about you, he keeps a brave face and is always smiling and laughing as he talks to you, telling you about all the things him and his brothers have done after your year at RAD ended

• he always brings your favorite snacks when he sits with you, hoping that maybe you'll be hungry enough to wake up and eat with him again

• "MC, I brought your favorite snacks again, I'm sorry I ate them last time...if you wake up before I get hungry they're all yours though! I can get you more if you're still hungry after."

Belphie:

• to everyone's surprise, he was the first to know you were in a coma

• he often visited you in your dreams after you left RAD, making sure you didn't have any nightmares and to just chat with you

• so when he went to visit you in your latest dream, you told him how you were in the hospital and couldn't wake up just yet while your body healed

• he promised to relay the information to his brothers and was quick to be at your side

• he's less worried about your condition than his brothers, only because he can still visit you while you "sleep"

• just because it's not as bad doesn't mean he has no worries though

• part of him is scared that one day he'll try to visit you and you just won't be there dreaming anymore

• because of this fear, he sleeps as often as he can

• self care isn't exactly his strong hold, so he figures his brothers will take better care of you than he can

• instead of helping you physically, Belphie helps you mentally

• he makes sure you never feel lonely in your coma

• he keeps any bad dreams or negative thoughts away, and he never lets you lose hope about waking up, no matter how long your coma lasts

• to make things more fun, he often alters your dreams so you two can go on adventures

• if you feel like flying? He's got you. Wanna be pirates for the day? There's a sword an eyepatch waiting for you

• even though he can still spend time with you in your coma, he still insists on being at your side physically too

• would bring your favorite blankets and pillows and plushies to put in bed with you so you stay comfortable

• is another brother who would curl up in the hospital bed with you, even letting you use his pillow until you wake up

• snuggles you like a koala 25/8 and sleepy mumbles into your ear are common

• "mm, MC? I know it's fun and all, but you gotta wake up at some point dummy. Don't make me go in there and drag you out."

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triptuckers · 3 years

Text

New In Town (part two) - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: you're exploring ketterdam and happen to overhear an interesting conversation Warnings: none Word count: 2.6K A/N: ketterdam my beloved <3 <3 <3 PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (all grishaverse fics): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha@story-scribbler@romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza@whymyparentscheckmyphone@aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy @tomridlessecretvampiredemigod TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @janesofia7 @stairscortana add yourself to my tag lists here (bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason!)

You spend the first weeks wandering around the city, getting to know the streets, canals, and its secrets. Every morning you wake up early to leave the pub when the regulars aren't there yet.

You like Ketterdam in the morning. It seemed like everyone collectively decided to sleep in every day. When walking the empty streets, you feel like the city belongs to you, even though you only arrived a couple of weeks ago.

During your short stay, you couldn't help but to develop some habits and routines. Normally, you made sure no one could figure out your habits and favorite spots, but somehow you felt like nobody in Ketterdam cared enough to pay attention to an outsider like you.

Especially when said outsider definitely didn't look rich.

Your clothes had worn out, because you hadn't taken your bag with you and had spent all of your money on rent for your room. But the owner of the building had agreed to give you a job at the pub.

You made a little money on the nights you worked as a bartender. You saved part of it, and spend part of it on clothes. First was a shirt, that was slightly too big but at least it didn't have stains on it or holes in it.

Next up was a new pair of pants. You picked them out carefully, buying one with wide legs so you could easily hide your weapons. It also has a lot of pockets, which was useful as well.

You then bought a new coat. It was a long, black coat. Perfect for wrapping it tightly around you and disappearing into the shadows during the nights you were on the streets.

Your boots weren't worn out just yet, so you hadn't spend money on a new pair. You kept your old clothes at the room, in case you needed a change of clothes. Old ones were better than no clothes at all.

With every piece of clothing you bought, you felt more like you had been in Ketterdam for a long time. Part of you felt like you needed to blend in, and buying Kerch clothes was a perfect way to do so.

You wake up on a particular sunny day. At first, you're excited to spend the day walking around the city, exploring the outer edges of the city.

But your good mood soon disappears when you remember you have an extra long shift to work at the pub today.

It's not like you particularly enjoy working at the pub. Most of the guests seem to think they can do anything to you when they're drunk.

The regulars know not to mess with you, but the new customers weren't around to witness you break three fingers of a guy who put his hand on your waist.

Even though less people messed with you now, there are still some who believe they can convince you to have a drink with them. You always have to smile and politely refuse, telling them you're working.

You'd much rather work your usual jobs, but you had yet to find out how to get someone to notice you. You didn't trust the gangs - yet. Simply because you didn't know enough about them.

Sure, you had the guts to march into whatever their main building was, but if you didn't have any dirt on them, it wouldn't be very useful. Besides, you'd much rather watch them try to anxiously get you to forget the information you had gathered.

You loved to have your clients beg for their pride when they double crossed you, or hadn't paid you enough. But you didn't dare to walk into a house full of trained gang members simply because your job at the pub was dull.

It was boring, and your skills were useless, but at least you got paid. It was just enough to cover the rent of the room, but a little money is still better than none at all.

If you could just find out some more information on the different gangs, you'd be able to join one of them, using the secrets you discover as leverage.

It's not like you had always wanted to join a gang. But the streets of Ketterdam are more dangerous than the ones in Ravka or Fjerda. Being part of a gang provided protection. You knew no one would touch you if you were part of a gang. Except maybe members of rival gangs, but you could handle those.

But for now, you're stuck serving rich tourists and drunk regulars.

Though it was a boring job and nothing exciting really happened, you did learn a lot by listening to their conversations. Gang members didn't often come to the pub, but guards, merchant's servants and advisors, people of the Stadwatch and other interesting people did.

You'd already learned a great deal about them by listening to their conversations. As someone who worked at the pub, you could come closer without any of them getting suspicious.

If only some gang members came in for a drink, you'd be able to listen in on their conversations as well. But you figured they'd have their own clubs, or other pubs they like to go to.

After a quick breakfast and a morning walk in the sun, you're already back at the pub, getting ready to start your shift.

Luckily, there aren't many people in the pub this early. You spend your time washing glasses, occasionally serving people, tiding up the place.

Around noon, it starts to get busier. But that's also when more people start their shifts, so you don't have to do all of it on you own. Even though it's busier the later the hour gets, it's still boring to you.

The same people are there and they order the same drinks, making the same lame jokes, hoping to make you laugh. The best you can do is a forced smile which disappears as soon as you turn your back on them.

When your shift is almost over, you're standing behind the bar. You're cleaning the glasses people used today, trying not to zone out as you stare at the open doors on the other side of the pub.

People are laughing and talking loudly, but it all seems oddly far away from you.

Suddenly, your coworker nudges your shoulder and gestures with her head to the entrance.

'They're not regulars, are they?' she says.

You look at the people she pointed out. Two boys around your age walked in the pub. One of them is tall, curls falling down on his forehead, and there's a grin on his face.

The other one is shorter, leaning on a cane and dressed head to toe in black, as if he's going to attend a funeral. Unlike the other boy, he doesn't have a smile on his face. Instead, he walks to the nearest table and sits down, signalling to the bar.

Your coworker wants to approach them, but you're faster.

'I've got this one.' you say with a smile.

You didn't see many people like this in your pub, and your curiosity got the better of you. Besides, you hadn't seen them in the city, making you believe they are from the parts of the city you rarely go to.

And since it's not weird for a bartender to make small talk, you approach them with a smile.

'Good evening!' you say cheerfully. 'How can I help you today?'

'Hello love!' says the taller boy as he returns your smile. 'I'll have a beer.'

'Great choice.' you say.

You turn to the other one, quickly scanning him up and down and noticing he's wearing gloves. Which seems odd, since it's such a nice sunny day. But then again, there are a lot of odd people in Ketterdam.

'And what can I get you, sir?' you say.

Just as he looks at you and wants to answer you, the taller boy speaks up again.

'You don't have to call us sir, you know, we're basically the same age.' he says.

'And how would you know that?' you say.

'I'm a good gambler.' he says, leaning back in his chair.

You see how the other boy raises his eyebrows at him.

'He's not a good gambler.' he says. 'I'm good.'

'You sure you don't want anything to drink?' you say, deciding to see if you can find out more about them. 'You're in a pub after all, and we've got some good stuff.'

'I'm good.' he says again, more firmly, indicating you don't have to ask again.

'Alright then.' you say. You turn to the taller boy again. 'I'll come back shortly, with your beer.'

'Thanks.' he says with a wink.

You smile at him and walk back to the bar. You notice your coworker was a little too late to subtly look away.

'What were you talking about?' she asks.

'What they want to drink.' you simply say, reaching out to take a beer and open it.

'And?' she presses on.

'And that's it. The other one didn't want anything to drink.' you say.

'Why's he dressed like that?' she says.

You shrug. 'Tell me the answer when you ask him.' you say.

You walk back to the two and notice how they quickly cut off their conversation. With a smile, you set the beer down in front of the tall boy.

'There you go.' you say. 'Enjoy.'

He thanks you, and you turn to the dark-haired boy again.

'Are you sure I can't get you something?' you say.

He briefly shakes his head. You turn back to the taller boy again. Apparently, he's the talkative one.

'So, you're a gambler?' you say to him.

'I can't say no to a game of cards every now and then.' he says.

Before you can ask him another question, the other boy speaks up again.

'Jesper, cut the small talk.' he says.

So the taller one was called Jesper, that's at least a start.

The tall one, Jesper, looks offended. 'I can have a conversation, Kaz, relax.' he says. He turns back to you. 'You a gambler?' he says.

You shake your head. 'I never really understood it. And I haven't gotten a chance to go to one of the gambling halls yet.' you say.

'You should tag along some time, I can teach you the basics.' says Jesper.

'That would be amazing.' you say, surprised at how easy it is to get Jesper to engage in a conversation. You wonder what else you can learn about him.

Unfortunately, a large group of tourists enter the pub, loudly telling you to come and take their orders. You don't bother to hide the disgust and annoyance on your face.

'Looks like I'll have to pass. I'm working, after all.' you say. 'Let me know if I can get you guys anything else.'

'You got it.' says Jesper as you walk over to the large group of tourists.

Of all the people that stopped by for a drink, you loathed tourists the most. They always seemed to think that if they were in a different country, basic rules about human decency didn't apply.

They're loudly shouting their orders at you and as you walk back to the bar to get their drinks, you can feel their eyes on you. No doubt they were talking about you.

You bring them their drinks with a forced smile, ignoring their horrible flirting. The second you turn your back on them, you let your smile disappear. You then catch Jesper's eye, who had been looking at your encounter with the tourists.

'Tourists are all the same.' you say as you walk up to him to retrieve his empty beer glass.

'They look nice.' he tries.

'They're assholes.' you say. 'Every tourist that comes in here thinks because I'm a bartender they can shamelessly flirt with me and pull me closer. But they give excellent tips, so I can't really complain.'

'If you don't like serving them, why not get a different job?' asks Jesper.

'Because I need the money.' you say. 'Don't really have a lot of choice. Can I get you anything else?'

'Another beer, please.' he says.

'Jesper.' says the other boy.

You turn to look at him, you almost forgot he was there. Jesper had taken off his coat, but Kaz was still wearing his long black coat and gloves.

'No more drinks, I need you sober for this.' says Kaz.

'Okay, dad.' says Jesper. 'He never lets me do anything fun.' he then whispers to you, loud enough for Kaz to hear.

'I'll leave you two to it, then.' you say.

You walk away from their table to clean a table of a couple who just left the bar. Normally, you'd do a quick sweep and head back to serving customers.

But something about Jesper and Kaz has gotten your attention. Jesper seems like a cheerful, fun person to be around. Kaz, on the other hand, looks like he hasn't smiled in his entire life. You wondered why they would go to a pub together.

You take out a piece of cloth and start to slowly clean the table, but focusing on Jesper and Kaz behind you. They're talking in such hushed voices, you're having a hard time understanding them.

But you do manage to hear a few sentences of their conversation.

'We enter as guards, Nina, Matthias and Inej go in disguised as party guests.' says Kaz in a low voice.

'Why can't I be a party guest as well?' says Jesper.

'Because we can't afford you to drink and flirt, we need to to confirm that diamond necklace is the real thing.' says Kaz. 'So we move quickly and don't attract too much attention.'

'Fine.' says Jesper. 'But next time we're crashing a merchant's party, I get to be one of the party guests as well. I want to have a good time.'

You quickly straighten your back and walk past them, back to the bar. You didn't want to give them the idea you'd been listening to their conversation.

So they were planning on robbing some rich woman who owned a diamond necklace. And Jesper would be the one to confirm the diamonds are real. Only Grisha could do that. And there were more on their crew, at least three more. If you could figure out what party they had been talking about, you could try and get in as well.

As you're standing behind the bar, talking to one of your coworkers, you see Jesper and Kaz get up. While standing in the doorway, Jesper waves happily at you. Kaz is already out of the pub.

You smile and wave back at him.

If only he knew that in just a few minutes, you had discovered they'd steal a priceless necklace, and that they were gang members. Because who else would dare to steal a necklace someone would be wearing at a crowded party?

Only gangs would be bold enough to do something like that. You didn't know what gang they were part of, but that wasn't the kind of information you need to acquire. Right now, all you had to do was find out where and when the party was being held.

You could be quicker than them, and snatch the diamonds away from them. You could buy yourself a nice new set of knives, or rent a bigger room.

Either way, you were going to get a lot of money.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#me whenever I am writing a grishaverse fic: I must include jesper or nina in this #I literally cannot write something without at least one of them in there #also I am sorry but it is true. kaz dresses like he's going to a funeral I'm sorry <3 its okay tho he's hot #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #grishaverse #Kaz Brekker x reader #Kaz Brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #Kaz Brekker fanfiction #Kaz Brekker fanfics #Kaz Brekker fic #shadow and bone fics #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fic #new in town

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izaswritings · 3 years

Text

Title: who we are in the aftermath

Fandom: The Owl House

Synopsis: Belos falls and the Golden Guard survives. It’s a new world and a new day, and sooner or later Hunter has to figure out where he fits in it.

Or: in which Hunter stays at the Owl House, becomes a (very, very reluctant) apprentice, continues to have accidental sibling shenanigans with the annoying human, and finally finds a place where he belongs. Probably.

AO3 link is here.

[Next chapter is here!]

chapter one: battling birds

They give him a room near the east side of the house, stuffed full of broken things and a miscellaneous number of random items. It’s not the human’s old room, and not Lilith’s, either—there’s too much dust and too much stuff for either option. Hunter can’t tell if he’s grateful for this or not. He’s still deciding on whether he’s grateful for the room at all.

There’s no time to set up a bed. He spends his first night here on a blanket, restless and half-awake and lying so still he’s half-convinced he’s shaking from the strain of not moving at all, not making a single sound. He can practically taste the dust on every inhale—does the Owl Lady ever clean, Titan help him—and by some godawful midnight hour Hunter gives up on sleep entirely and sits up, carefully, to whisper to his palisman.

Nothing important. None of the real questions that are swirling around in his head, like what am I even doing here and why am I still here and what am I supposed to do now, do you know? Instead he just says nonsense things, useless things, like “If I shine a flashlight in that little demon’s face do you think I could get him to chase the dot?”

The palisman coos and chirps and sings nonsense back. Red is a pretty color. I like tulips. If we iced over the Boiling Sea could we make human rain?

“None of those answers make sense,” Hunter tells it, and then writes a small note about the sea and rain connection on the dusty floor, if only because that’s actually kind of interesting and he wants to check it out again later.

Red tulips are tasty, replies the palisman, and nuzzles his fingers when he goes to pet it. Its feathers are soft and its eyes are luminous in the moonlight. Nonsense, all of it, but the nonsense helps—familiar as a friend, safe and easy. Better than thinking of Belos. Better than wondering what he’s doing here, sleeping on the floor in the Owl Lady’s house.

The human has left. He could walk out right now and she’d never know, not that her disappointment has any bearing on if he chooses to stay or go. She’s vanished back to the human world, probably gone forever. This house means nothing to Hunter—the Owl Lady is annoying and dislikes him about as much as Hunter dislikes her, and as endearing as the weird little demon is, that isn’t enough to make Hunter want to stay.

He could leave easily. He could go anywhere. He has nowhere to go.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hunter tells the palisman, at last, hours later. It is almost morning. The sunrise has only just begun, the peace of this dusty attic room wavering thin and fragile in the light of early dawn. It is a quiet admission. He says it very soft. “I don’t know if I know anything.”

I love you, says the palisman.

“That’s not an answer either.”

Oh, well.

Twenty minutes later, the Owl Lady’s weird bird-worm security creature bursts through the window and sings good morning loud enough to shatter eardrums. Hunter grabs his staff, throws a blast at the thing on instinct, teleports to the kitchen in a panic, and smacks the Owl Lady in the face with his palisman first thing in the morning.

The easy explanation is this: the castle falls and Belos dies and the Golden Guard somehow survives it all: portal collapse and half-realm merge and everything, which means when the dust settles, ultimately Hunter is left with absolutely no idea of what to do with himself.

“You should work with Eda!” says the human, in the aftermath. Given she says this in the ruin of what was once the Emperor’s castle, barely a half hour after—everything—Hunter feels pretty justified in his response. Which is to say he strangles his broken mechanical staff in his hands, takes a deep breath, and says in a very tight voice: “No.”

“But—!”

“No. No, no, no. I can’t even believe I did this, I don’t… it’s not happening. No.”

The human—he does actually know her name by now, after all they’ve been through, but also given all of This Nonsense she has lost name privileges—does not take that well. Of course she doesn’t. She’s so fourteen it makes Hunter want to die inside.

“Why not?” the human says, petulant. She has her hands on her hips and everything.

Hunter is kneeling in the rubble of a castle he’s called home for almost all his life. Somewhere down there is the throne where Belos used to sit; somewhere down there is a body. It’s not a surprise, really. It’s not a shock. From the moment the palisman fluttered into his life and Hunter let it stay, he always knew, deep down, that one day he was going to have to choose.

It does not make breathing any easier. “I don’t want to,” he says.

“You can learn wild magic! And, and glyphs! Eda knows a lot—”

“Does the Owl Lady know you’re offering up her house to an old enemy?”

“Eda won’t mind. Well, okay, maybe she’ll mind a little, but— she’ll let you stay if I ask her!” Yeah. The Owl Lady probably would. The human has that witch wrapped around her little finger; Hunter almost snorts. “Please, just hear me out. I’m sure we can—”

“No.”

“Hunter…”

“Don’t talk like we’re friends,” Hunter hisses. He drops the broken remains of the mechanical staff and stands, his hands curled to fists. “Don’t talk like you know me. You don’t know anything. You don’t—” He can’t breathe. He drops back to his knees in the rubble and rubs a hand over his eyes. “Just stop. Please.”

The human doesn’t say anything for a long time. On his shoulder, the palisman, thus far staying silent, flutters its wings and hops down to his knee, nudging his hand with its beak. It sings nothing. Just stays there.

After a moment, the human kneels next to him. There is blood on her face and dirt staining her leggings. “I know,” she says, and she suddenly sounds very tired. “I’m sorry.”

Hunter doesn’t say anything.

“I just—” the human starts, and then she stops. “I don’t know how else to help you.”

She looks small and weirdly sad, which makes no sense at all, because she hated Belos and never really understood why Hunter did not. (Hunter is not sure why either. If that is still something he can say. If you can betray your uncle and fight against your uncle and—and— and do these things, do everything Hunter has done, and still say that this feeling isn’t hatred.)

They aren’t friends, Hunter and the human. They have barely been allies. He doesn’t need her help, and she probably knows that as well as he does. But Hunter looks at her then, and despite the rubble and the ash and the blood on his tongue, for some reason instead of digging himself a makeshift grave he says—

“…Okay.”

Which still doesn’t really explain anything, but then, that’s just how it goes.

“Okay!” says the Owl Lady, smacking down her second cup of apple blood on the table. She does it too hard—a good splash of blood escapes the confines of the cup and adds yet another stain to her already-stained dining table. Hunter raises an eyebrow. The Owl Lady glares back. “House rules.”

There’s a red mark on her cheek, still, from where Hunter had hit her with his staff, and a stain all down her side from when, upon being hit with the staff, the Owl Lady spluttered and cursed and accidentally spilt the first cup of apple blood all over herself and the floor. She looks… barely awake.

“House rules,” Hunter echoes, dryly.

“Your scorn is noted and not appreciated.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” His palisman pecks his hand lightly. “Ow.”

“Luz, you owe me one,” mutters the Owl Lady, and takes a really deep drink of her apple blood. Hunter rubs at his hand, peeved, and eyes the palisman in case it gets any more hand-pecking ideas. The palisman blinks innocently back. Hmm.

“So. First of all.” The Owl Lady raises a finger. “Break any of my stuff and I end you.”

So just like the castle, then. Hunter sees where this is going. He settles gingerly back against the chair—why, why is all of her furniture stained—and rests his cheek against one fist, already bored. “Noted.”

The Owl Lady puts up a second finger. There’s a long silence.

“…Seriously?” says Hunter.

“Quiet, you.” She snaps her fingers. “Hah! Got one! Hurt King or Luz or Hooty or anyone I like in any way and I’ll destroy you. Yeah, that works.”

Hunter gets the sneaking suspicion these house rules are being made up on the spot, and are also only for him. He knows better than to say that aloud. “Fine.” Wait. “How am I supposed to know which random people you like or dislike?”

The Owl Lady grins. Her gold fang glints. “That sounds like a you problem, don’t you think?” She cackles a little. “Guess you’ll just have to find out! Or, you know. Maybe don’t attack anyone? That’s a start.”

Her owl palisman coos a little. Her nose wrinkles. “What? What do you mean that’s hypocritical? Stay out of this, Owlbert, I’m teaching life lessons or something.” Her eyes turn to him. “Anyway. You get the gist.”

Hunter’s hand is curled white-knuckled around his knee. His palisman flutters from the table to his shoulder, singing nonsense again. Red tulips, so tasty. Its feathers brush against his cheek.

He pries his grip off his knee one finger at a time. “…Understood.”

“Good.” The Owl Lady stands and stretches, yawning wide into one hand. “Anyway, I’ll give you a pass for this morning, because Hooty can be…” She trails off. Outside, muffled by the front door, the bird-worm creature shouts “HOOT” at full volume and then smacks into a tree.

“…a lot,” decides the Owl Lady. “But seriously, keep the windows locked. I don’t want you trying to blast him and burning my house down. I just got it back.”

Hunter says nothing. The Owl Lady squints at him and then picks her mug back up. “Riiiight… well, good talk, I guess. Get some more sleep, kid, you look worse than Luz after an all-nighter.” She waits. Hunter raises an eyebrow at her. “Ugh. I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

At least Hunter isn’t the only one second-guessing everything. Still, that reminds him. “The human.”

“Luz,” says the Owl Lady, unimpressed.

“Yeah, whatever.” He links his fingers. The palisman flies down from his shoulder to his cupped hands, and hops a determined circle in his palm for no apparent reason. Hunter watches it play. “…Is she coming back?”

“What, tired of our company already?”

“Yes,” Hunter says, because obviously.

“Rude. Well, can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.” There’s a long silence. The Owl Lady sighs. “Luz… she promised she’d come back. You were there, weren’t you?”

Yeah, he had been. Standing in the back of the group, on the fringes of the goodbye. Two hours after the end, and the human had already roped the Owl Lady into letting Hunter live in her stupid owl house, and also somehow run around hugging pretty much everyone. And then she’d stepped through the mirrors that were all that remained of the realm-merge between her world and theirs, and not come back since.

She had, indeed, promised to return. But that was hours ago; that was yesterday. The mirrors are gone and no doors remain. And Hunter does not put much faith in promises.

“And when,” he asks the Owl Lady, a little lofty, a little snide. “When, exactly, do you think she’s coming back?”

The Owl Lady’s eyes narrow. Her lips press thin. For a moment he thinks she might snap at him, but then her shoulders slump, and in the end she just looks away.

“I don’t know,” the Owl Lady admits.

Useless, Hunter thinks. But he doesn’t say it. Just nods and turns away to head back upstairs and make that stupid dusty storage room somewhat presentable, because if he’s going to be staying here for—for—for whatever amount of time he ends up staying here, he’s going to breathe actual air instead of dust, thanks.

“Remember, kid! House rules!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter says, and teleports back up the stairs without a single glance back.

Hunter manages to shove all the junk into one corner and make the start of a fairly presentable bed in the other corner by the time the human re-arrives in the Boiling Isles and throws open his door hard enough to smack it against the wall.

“You took my advice!” shouts the human, at the top of her lungs.

“Hiiiiii,” says Hunter, hands over his ears. The human takes a deep breath. Hunter closes the door in her face. “Byeeee.”

“Hey!”

“Why are you yelling.”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

It’s just nonsensical enough to get him to open the door. Why does this always happen to him? Why is the human like this? “You said I should come here! You said—”

“Psh,” says the human and flaps a hand in his face. Hunter stops mid-word, gritting his teeth, practically feeling his whole face turn bright red with rage. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way! I just— I didn’t think you would actually listen! But you’re here!” She’s beaming. Hunter looks away. Her smile fades. “…Are you okay?”

He can’t sleep. His eyes are hot and burning like he wants to cry and he has no idea why. His uncle is dead.

“No,” he tells her. “No one in this house dusts. I’ve forgotten what air tastes like.”

“Psh-haw! I’m sure it's not that…” The human steps inside, inhales, and chokes. “Oh. Ay Dios mío. Wow, this room has not been dusted.”

“I noticed!”

“Oh, man.” She hides her nose in her elbow and sidles outside again. She’s wearing her weird human clothes and her palisman staff strapped to her back. She looks tired, and a little like she has no idea what she’s doing here either. She lingers in the door almost awkwardly, rolling back and forth from her heels to her toes.

Hunter watches her for a long moment. “You came back.”

“Haha. What gave it away?” But the smile she gives is small and blinding, brighter than the sun. “Watch this.”

“Watch wha—” The human lifts her hand and trails it through the air, dragging her fingers down in a straight line. Golden light follows her fingers. It breaks the air like a fractured mirror, a rift sparking to life in the hallway, the dark greens and blues of a galaxy intertwined with a burning glow. Hunter’s voice dies in his throat.

“If I push at it, it opens. Like a door. It leads me right home.” She’s smiling so wide it must hurt. The portal almost seems to whisper; the golden glow of the rift shines in her eyes and catches on her face, still tear-streaked. The human’s cried over this. She’s right to. The human world and the Boiling Isles—she has found a way to keep both.

Presumably he thinks he should be jealous. Instead he finds himself smiling too. “I’m glad,” Hunter tells her. “That’s… pretty cool.”

“Right!?” She bounces on her heels and waves a hand through the rift, dismissing it into nothing. “I can’t wait to show Amity. And Eda. And King. And you! The human world is—it’s amazing. The rain doesn’t kill you even a little bit!”

It takes sudden effort to keep up the smile. “…I’ve heard.”

“Anyway, I just came by to say hi. Eda said you were here, and—” She stops, visibly hesitating. Her head lowers. “I know… I know this must be hard. And that we aren’t really friends. But… if you need anyone to talk to… I’m here.” She peeks up her head a little, grinning. “After all, we’re house buddies now!”

“Human,” Hunter says. Her nose wrinkles. He sighs. “Luz.”

“Yeah?”

There’s so much he could say that for a moment he has no idea where to start. Why did you think this was a good idea. Please stop talking. Why are you so insistent that we could be friends. I didn’t say I was staying here for long. I’m very tired. You’re bizarrely forgiving. My uncle is dead because of you.

“…Thanks,” he says. “And— I’m sorry.”

Luz blinks at him. Then she grins. “Noooo problem, ol’ buddy ol’ pal!”

Hunter shoves her stupid smiling face away and closes the door on her toes. Luz yelps and swears and kicks at the door, and yells rude things in that other human language of hers. “Byeeeee,” Hunter says, and behind the closed door, Luz makes a muffled noise of rage and shouts, “Would you stop saying that!?”

And it doesn’t make things better but it doesn’t make things any worse, either, and when Hunter turns away he is almost smiling—so maybe it’s okay.

The sun sets. The dusty room has been aired out to its best ability, and Hunter has made a somewhat functional and comfy-looking bed in the corner. A sticky note with the boiling sea + ice = human rain idea has been ceremoniously pinned to the empty wall space. In addition to the sticky notes, Luz has donated his “sad, bad boy room” what looks to be a dying houseplant. Hunter suspects she gave it to him purely because she has despaired of trying to keep it alive herself.

He puts the plant on the windowsill. The palisman apparently loves it. Maybe he should find red tulips for it to eat. Whatever a red tulip is.

He settles next to the palisman on the windowsill, and strokes its head with his finger. He feels strangled and small and the sunset looks alien to him. Everything has changed. Everything is over. He is a powerless witch with a wild magic staff, and he will never be the Golden Guard again.

His eyes burn. He blinks fast. Far down below, he can hear the Owl Lady and Luz arguing over dinner.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing here,” Hunter tells the palisman. The sunset makes all the trees look shadow-like and sharp, outlined in red. It reminds him of his palisman, a little bit. “I don’t even like these people. What do you think? Is it too late to head back and dig myself a grave in the rubble?”

I’m happy I know you, chirps the palisman. It hops from the dying houseplant to the top of his head. I love you, I love you.

His throat feels tight. “…That still isn’t a real answer.”

I want apple blood for breakfast tomorrow. The palisman nibbles at his hair. It looks tasty.

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he closes his eyes. “Okay. If— if you say so.”

The sun is setting, and the light is warm on his face. The Boiling Isles feels, for once, almost something like peaceful. It probably won’t last.

“We’ll stay.”

#toh #the owl house #owl house #toh hunter #toh golden guard #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #hunter owl house #owl house fic #toh fic #fic: who we are in the aftermath #fic update

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