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hangovercurse · 3 years

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I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson angst #pete davidson fluff

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

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Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous (half of their request):

I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀

author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka for being the resident Studio 54 expert! Mauri isn’t as ‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.

warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.

(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)

word count: 2.46k

terms to know

Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.

Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club.

Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.

You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges.

Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight.

It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.

While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.

Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.

His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.

The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there.

Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.

“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin. “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”

You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”

He pulls you back a bit further against him.

“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”

“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.

The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”

A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.

“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”

His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”

You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair.

He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly.

It doesn’t work.

You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.

“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”

Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.

The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.

Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.

“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.

He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on.

His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”

Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.

“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”

His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”

Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.

He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.

“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”

Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”

The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.

“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”

His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”

Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname.

“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.

He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high.

This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from.

Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.

You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.

Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.

“Ohhh christ.”

His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”

He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his.

The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.

“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”

Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”

Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.

A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two.

He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position.

“Where do you want it?”

You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”

Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.

“M-Mauri.”

His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.

“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.

“Outside, a-anywhere.”

Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.

You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.

“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”

You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.

“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”

“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”

Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.

“A drink would be great.”

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starilicious · 3 years

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der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (2)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

... PREV / NEXT

...

Life in his hospital bed passes slowly while he waits for his chakra to replenish. Always a sluggish process for Kakashi. With nothing to do, nowhere to go and a significant lack of motivation to find either, there is a lot of time to think. Too much time. With what was shaping up to be the fourth great shinobi war, there was no time for reflection or resting. To suddenly have this much downtime thrust upon him is throwing him through a loop. And he doesn’t even have his periodic trips to the memorial as a distraction. If only Sakura could see him now, resting and recuperating like a good injured shinobi.

Doctor Wada, the ever-attentive physician, returns a few more times to ask more questions and offer more reassurances. He seems set on his theory that Kakashi’s yet to be properly identified quirk was the cause of his memory problems. Kakashi runs through a sweet of memory and vision tests. A baseline for later testing when his eye is healed he is told.

“The police have a few questions regarding your situation. With your permission, they would like to conduct an interview,” says Wada on Kakashi’s third day of being officially awake, “Of course, as your doctor, I have the final say in the matter so if you would rather wait just say the word.”

Kakashi gives another bland smile, “Ah, you are too kind.” Police…as in, an authority the dealt with civilian conflict? “I think I’ll answer their questions. Wouldn’t want to stall an investigation.”

He had been wondering when or if he would be investigated. How similar would it be to Kohoha’s internal police force?

“Humph. If you think you’re ready for it.”

He maintains his smile. It was as good an opportunity as any to continue gathering information with the bonus of breaking up the monotony of waiting in a hospital bed for his injuries to heal. Doctor Wada spends the rest of the check-up muttering about pushy police officers and how underappreciated his medical opinion was.

The two men that come to question him are wearing matching uniforms which are very telling of the sort of organisation they belong to. White and dark blue. Not made to camouflage or reinforce. Restrictive seaming around the arms, preventing any extreme movement. Their shoes are sturdy but inflexible with heavy soles. Manurable but not designed for any excessive combat. Not a uniform you would give a force intended to physically subdue threats. Whereas Konoha’s police force was comprised mainly of genin and chunin, these men were closer to civilians in pure physical ability. Ah, but he is beginning to suspect that this was the norm here. The people here were softer in a way that was hard to define.

Kakashi watches them approach, seated upright in his bed, hands resting loose in his lap, aiming it create an impression harmlessness. One good thing to have come from agreeing to this interview was getting his own private hospital room. Now there was no one around to raise an alarm if something went wrong and he was forced to act.

“Good morning,” The older one of the two starts, politely dipping his head, “Kakashi was it?”

“Hmm,” he smiles, “Morning.” There is a pause like they are waiting for him to give his last name. He doesn’t.

“Well,” The man clears his throat, “I am officer Takata Toyokazu, currently in charge of investigating the circumstances surrounding the assault on your person.” An ID card, very similar to Konoha’s own ID cards is presented, “This is my partner. We’re from Hosu’s Central Police and we have a few questions if you don’t mind answering them for us.”

“Ah,” Kakashi eyes the ID, lamenting the fact that his sharingan is covered under a swatch of bandages and thus inaccessible without obvious movement, “I am afraid my memory just isn’t all there. Apologies in advance if my responses are lacking.”

He lets a little humour leak into his tone. It was time to do a little prodding and gauged how this place's ‘police’ conducted their investigations.

“Yes. We were informed about your memory problems.” The two share an obvious glance and there is a definite note of scepticism there. “Nevertheless, any information would be appreciated.”

“Of course.” He easily agrees, shrugging, projecting an air of casual nonchalance.

Takata blinks “Right,” and Kakashi can practically see his brain stalling, “Well, you were found on the corner of First and Eleventh street in Hosu’s Central Business District. Would you say this is accurate?”

Kakashi thinks for an exaggerated moment, “I do remember a lot of people. I think someone called for help?”

“You were picked up in an ambulance yes. Do you remember what happened before that?”

“Hmm, I was attacked…there were a lot of trees.” He nods like he has just delivered a useful bit of intel.

“Trees?” Is the deadpan response.

“You know…tall plants with leaves and a….”

“We know what trees are. So, you were in a place with a lot of trees before you were in Hosu’s business district.”

“Probably.”

“A park maybe? There are a few around Hosu. Do remember anything else. Distinctive landmarks?”

“Ah,” he waits for a beat, “No.”

Kakashi is the subject of a disbelieving squint. “No names. Streets. Nearby locations?”

“Nope. All gone.” He says cheerfully and Takata’s brow twitches into an irritated frown.

“You were admitted with multiple stab wounds. Do you remember how you got them?”

He shrugs, “A knife probably.”

“Well, do you remember anything about who was holding the knife?”

“OH!” The two men startle at this sudden exclamation, “It was a man.”

There are a few seconds of silence. “What did the man look like?”

“I don’t remember that bit.”

This time he gets a very obvious frown. Apparently, realising that the current line of questioning is getting them nowhere, the officer motions to his partner and is handed a large envelope. After some shuffling around, a paper file is produced and flipped upright in Kakashi’s direction. It is a photograph of kunai, shuriken, senbon, razor wire and assortment of other weaponry he carried around on his person. He had wondered what the hospital had done with his stuff.

“These are the weapons found on your person when you were admitted to hospital. All confiscated. It’s illegal to carry these sorts of thrown weapons and knives in Japan.”

He scans the photo with interest. The image has his weaponry all laid out in neat lines.

“Really?” He is not even faking his curiosity this time. No one carried around any weapons at all? That wasn’t just a trend limited to the hospital?

“Yes.” Comes the short response, “what were you using them for.”

“Oh, I don’t remember,” he says gleefully, “How scary.” And gets another round of scowls. After doggedly refusing to give more than vague answers and misdirection, the two increasingly frustrated men prepare to leave.

“If you do remember anything, please call.” A small paper card displaying a string of numbers is presented to him. “You’ll have to come down to the station and give an official statement once the hospital clears you as well so don’t forget. We’ll get in contact if any arrests are made regarding the perpetrator.”

Kakashi knows enough about investigations to recognise that one, the two standing next to his bed were searching for some specific information and had found Kakashi’s responses lacking, and two, they had no idea who Kakashi was and knew even less about how he might have gotten here.

In the end, they just leave. No threats. No mind games. No attempts to arrest or move him to a secure location for further questioning. Nothing. Kakashi follows after the pair, pausing behind his door to listen to the two talk just outside his room. Officer Takata is obviously angry going of his slightly uneven breathing.

“That was a waste of time,” he grumbles.

“Do you think he was lying?”

“Oh, that smiley bastard definitely knows something more than he is letting on. Tch. Memory problems my ass…”

The is a pause before the younger man asks, “still think it’s connected to that Hero Killer sighting from a few days ago?”

“If he is telling the truth then no. The stabbing lines up with the Hero Killer’s MO but the target is all wrong. There is no Kakaski with a ‘sharingan’ quirk listed on the Registry or as any Hero, Sidekick or Hero agency employee. If he did have a run-in with the Hero Killer, it wasn’t targeted. Probably annoyed the guy into stabbing him if anything.”

There is the sound of footsteps as the two men begin to retreat down the hall.

“A dead-end then.”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“What a shame. I thought for sure, what with the extent of the injuries, that this was a Hero Killer case. Perhaps it was another Villain? Or a vigilante maybe?”

“Who though? Hosu doesn’t have any active Vigilantes or big-name Villains. Not ones who go around stabbing people to that extent. You saw the hospital report. The man was seconds away from bleeding out and that head wound was obviously aimed at disabling his quirk.”

“Tch. Without any leads, we have nothing to go on. And if Kakashi is a Villain or criminal himself, there’s no evidence and nothing we can pin him with other than a fine for carrying banned weaponry.”

The voices grow fainter as the two walk further away from his room. They seemed suspicious but not overly concerned with Kakashi’s lies so it is not a huge surprise that nothing came of the interview. Despite their obvious irritation, their response had been ones of mild annoyance and moderate distrust. If either of them had had a kekkei genkai it hadn’t been used. Perhaps, their abilities weren’t suited to interrogation. Kakashi had been obtuse enough that surely, they would have been tempted if it were a possibility. It does conform to a general trend in which people underestimate his threat level, treating him like a civilian. It was probably for the best.

Kakashi returns to his bed and stares at the paper card with the numbers. Obviously, they expected him to know what to do with it. Something to do with communication. Probably related to the small plastic devices nearly everyone in the building carried and spoke into on occasion. A radio of some sort. He had seen a few with numbers running across them.

From the exchange, he has a few more points to consider and mull over. Villain. Hero. Vigilante. He knows these terms, has heard people in his ward mention them before and knows they are important in some way.

…

Having a new room meant he needed to relearn everyone’s schedules. While doing so, he finally pinpoints why the people here feel so off. They lacked a level of…weariness…vigilance…that was both hard to describe and hard to notice until it wasn’t there anymore. Kakashi eyes the young nurse as she enters his room yawning, fixing her hair up as she walks, talking over her shoulder at someone behind her.

He had always thought the civilians of Kohoha lived free from most trouble. Not completely relaxed but still having a calm enough life. Well, calm when the village wasn’t being invaded. Now, he is revaluating that opinion. When compared with these people, Kohoha civilians were stiff, suspicious, almost paranoid. Konoha’s people had hardiness to them, a useful trait when living in a Hidden-Village. They were especially wearily when it came to interacting with shinobi no matter how banally and harmless the shinobi acted. It was an attitude to be expected when there was a very real chance of deadly injury should the shinobi be unfriendly or unstable. A very real possibility with all the war and ever-present threat of enemy invasion and chakra monster attacks.

Or maybe that was just his own experience as he never really interacted with many civilians and he his reputation wasn’t great.

“Hello Kakashi, how are you this evening,” The nurse greets him with a relaxed grin. He gives his bland smile and watches as she checks the various medical apparatus around Kakashi’s bed.

“I talked to the ward supervisor about your television. It should be working now.”

“Is it?”

Kakashi knows what a television is…they had a few of them in T&I, used for surveillance, and for a few more for monitoring remote training grounds like 44’s Forest of Death.

“Here is the remote. There are quite a lot of channels so now you’ll have something to keep you entertained.” He stares at the metallic rectangle object. He thinks that there might be a cultural difference between his understanding of a television and the nurse’s because watching an interrogation was never something he found particularly entertaining.

“Maybe it will help jog your memory as well.” The nurse gives him an encouraging smile before returning to her work.

Kakashi examines the object, bemused, “Ah, thank you Ms.”

“My name is Iori Ie I handle this ward on weekday evenings. I’ll be happy to answer any other questions if you have any. Anything to make this transition process easier.” She is sincere in her next assurance, “Just you wait, by the time your injuries are healed, we’ll have you right back up to speed.”

Television is…interesting and somewhat baffling. It’s not that Kakashi hasn’t seen examples of this sort of technology before now, it is just the availability and use he finds strange. Whereas a sensible village might hoard any new technology of its own use, here it is distributed and shared without limit. There was one of these things in every patent’s room! The same went for the information it communicated. Information so undervalued there was almost too much of it. Kakashi gives up trying to make sense of anything a few days into gaining access to the television and its hundreds of ‘channels,’ pumping out a constant stream of information. Some of it was obviously fictional, movies, entertainment, but most of the time it was hard to tell if what he was looking at was staged or if he was misreading a cultural difference. There were ‘channels’ devoted to daily status updates, delivering ‘news’ on everything from the weather, local politics, villain attacks, general crime and everything in between.

One thing he does confirm is that he is nowhere near any hidden villages or even on the continent, maybe not even in the correct world. This place was separate. This village or city as it was called, consisted of millions in a country of billions. There were more people in ‘Hosu’ than there were in the whole Fire Country. A logistics nightmare for sure. No wonder security was so lax around the hospital. Kakashi shakes his head and ends up switching off the television. Never would he have thought that having too much intel could be a bad thing.

“Ms Iori how would I go about getting something to read,” he asks the next day. She seems to be genuinely happy about his sudden sudden request. Kakashi hasn’t spoken or interacted much since waking, to busy trying to gauge whether the people surrounding him were threats.

He ends up with a pile of old manga volumes detailing the heroic adventures of some up and coming Hero protagonist and a stack of thin ‘magazines’ belonging to the nurse’s grown up son. The magazines are full of Hero analysis, speculation, and rumour like some sort of super detailed self-defeating bingo-book. He just…doesn’t understand why anyone would let this sort of information circulate.

At least now he has a better idea about what a Hero and Villain was. A Hero was this word’s shinobi equivalent- if shinobi went out of their way to draw attention to themselves- acting more like a police force in that they managed threats to civilians instead of taking commissions and repelling external threats. Actually, they were nothing like Shinobi apart from their use of blood line abilities in combat. A Villain was like a missing-nin, hiding among the ridiculously large civilian population…sort of…

He needs to start working on a way home because he definitely doesn't understand this world.

...

NOTE: When Kakashi discovers the internet his brain will explode.

PREV / NEXT

#bnha #naruto #my hero academia #boku no academia #hero killer arc #CrossOver #dimension travel AU #hatake kakashi #fanfiction #crossover fic #kakashi headcanons #culture shock

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ushidoux · 3 years

Text

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x Reader (Pt. 2)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~2.3k words)

Warnings: nsfw, poor communication tbh, angst?

A/N: There’s always trouble in paradise....

So I haven’t written a plot-heavy fic in a while. Anyway, I hope this is as dramatic as I intended it to be but not excessive.

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

Your phone vibrated loudly, nearly falling off the edge of your office desk but before checking the text, you were already scooping your personal items into your messenger bag and rising to leave the office.

Iwa had intended to meet you after work to grab dinner together before going home, and you quickly glanced at your phone to confirm his arrival while you made your way down multiple flights of stairs (turns out having an athletic trainer as a boyfriend made you a lot more fitness-conscious) to meet him in front of the large skyscraper.

You met him only slightly out of breath, hoping he hadn’t waited long, and he grinned as he saw you, arms uncrossing to take your bag from you and greet you with a kiss on the forehead.

“How was today? More good news?” You inquired cheerfully, linking your arm around his tightly as you started walking. He hummed, his pace still leisurely and his other hand casually resting in his pocket in mock humility.

“What, I haven’t impressed you enough?” He teased with a laugh, earning him a playful slap on the shoulder. Learning that he was going to be head athletic trainer for the Japan National Volleyball Team just last week was still fresh, and while you were excited for him, you were a tiny bit apprehensive about how much it would change his schedule. Even though he was already quite busy, you’d gotten used to Iwa’s schedule being predictable and being home every night, especially once he’d moved in with you about a year into your relationship.

While this new position was the biggest event on the horizon, quite a lot had changed since you’d met Hajime and lowered your emotional defenses to let him in, and that simple fact was evident by the way your hand unconsciously snaked down the length of his arm to interlace your fingers with him, as you continued to tell each other about your days.

He’d always impressed you from the very moment you met him. His confidence, his pure kindness and his genuine love for you were only a few of the things that made you love him wholeheartedly. The only regret that you had these days was that you hadn’t met him sooner, or rather, first.

Now, back in the quiet of the apartment you’d lived in for almost four years now, you and Iwa were locked in an embrace shrouded by the steam of an excessively warm shower. Despite the fact that you felt heavy with a generous dinner, the current somewhat pleasant turning of your stomach had more to do with the expert way Iwa’s fingers worked your center without compromising attention to your lips and tongue.

Soft moans of his name earned you the privilege of being gently lifted and pressed back against the shower tile, to leverage you steadily against the pressure of his heavy cock pushing past your walls into you as many times before.

He always knew where to touch and what to fill.

It occurred to you again as he coaxed one orgasm then another out of you with firmly delivered strokes, aided by the slick coming from your legs and the water that ran over the two of you, that you loved him. Fully and without reservation.

Especially when he pulled back to look at your flustered, wanting face, slightly tilted upwards to look at him with eyes enamored, your body fitting him like a glove, and you could practically see his heart swell.

A reckless, all-encompassing sort of love.

---

“This is… a lot of food,” your friend pointed out with raised eyebrows as she watched you toss possibly a 15th packet of thinly sliced marbled beef for shabu shabu in your cart before moving along to the condiment section. You were grateful that she was accompanying you on this errand because even though you enjoyed grocery shopping, it seemed like you’d been here for a lot longer than you expected and you weren’t too familiar with most of the ingredients on the long grocery list you’d brought with you.

Besides, the cart was overfilled and you felt that eventually you’d need two hands to push it.

“Iwa wants to invite I don’t know even know how many hungry athletes into our tiny apartment, so I’m just trying to be prepared,” you shrugged.

“By buying the entire butcher shop?”

“Yes.”

“He better be paying at least, this looks expensive,” she murmured, only to open her mouth in a teasing ‘O’ once you flashed Iwa’s credit card in her face with a grin.

Amused, she tossed a pack of vermicelli noodles in the cart then let out a loud, wistful sigh before leaning on the shopping cart handle. You frowned in response, knowing exactly what that sound entailed.

“So when did Oikawa say he’d be back?”

She let out an aggravated groan. “Not for months and then by the time the Olympics start, he’ll be even more busy… This shit is so annoying, to be honest. It’s like he’s never off season!”

You tiptoed to reach a highly placed bottle of shoyu and another of rice vinegar and drop it in your cart. You sympathized with her frustration, you had known intimately once what it was like to be made second priority, even if that wasn’t your life now.

“At least you know he would still choose you over volleyball, no matter how much he loves it,” you reassured her.

You had said the statement without any deeper intended meaning, but when you turned your friend was still eyeing you carefully, concern written in her knit eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replied, deciding to drop it. But two paces later, she paused to a standstill, and asked, “Do you know exactly who Iwa is inviting over?”

You shrugged your shoulders again. “Honestly, I don’t care, it’s not like I follow sports anymore.”

To that, she replied with a soft hum of assent before choosing to talk about dessert instead.

---

Seated at a corner table at the small coffee shop at the base of his hotel, Ushijima Wakatoshi looked carefully at the email invitation, noting the address more carefully this time, a wash of unsettling nostalgia rushing over him.

You wouldn’t notice it from the neutral expression on his face, but ever since he had made it back to this side of Tokyo, the concern of going back in time and revisiting old mistakes weighed heavy on his mind. Of course, he was excited about his new accolades and the opportunity to represent his country nationally, but with few people to share that news with, the reminder of what he had sacrificed to get here seemed less like a badge of honor and more like a condemnation.

For someone who insisted on moving forward, no matter what the pace or price, this was a particularly unwelcome feeling.

And of course, this sentiment was made way worse when it occurred to him that he was being invited to his old home as a guest. Well, he wasn’t exactly sure - while the apartment building itself was definitely the same one where he had lived so many years ago, he wasn’t completely sure whether or not the floor and suite number were the same. It would be an odd coincidence that Iwa lived there too now, but it was a nice apartment building after all, so he assumed it must be a popular place to live.

Still, he couldn’t help the mild uneasiness he felt at the prospect of turning up on that street.

What if by some unfortunate twist of fate, he ran into you? Whether in the lobby, sharing the elevator, maybe even in passing at the konbini where previously he’d surprise you with a custard taiyaki or melon bread to eat in the dead of night... What would he say? What could he say?

He had once practiced some silly assortments of words, many times ages ago when the ache in his heart for you became too much to bear and he thought maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too selfish to ask to come back into your life. He would come up with ways to explain why he’d decided it was better to remove himself from your life altogether over putting aside more time for you, or to explain that he’d made the decision for both of you in order to free you to be loved properly by someone else.

But the more time passed, the more ridiculous it seemed for him to try to ask you to forgive him for breaking your heart, and now three years had gone by.

Was three years enough time for you to forgive him for ending things without explanation? Or for moving out of your apartment while you stayed over your best friend’s house for an entire weekend so that he wouldn’t see you cry?

Ushijima took another sip of his coffee. He was overthinking it; the similar address was just a happenstance. You had probably long since moved on from that apartment just like you’d moved on from him.

---

Paper plates, forks, knives and napkins were set aside on your living room table, and you’d cleaned out the patio to allow for more space on the thankfully warm spring evening. Iwa had rushed out with a kiss on the cheek to go get some ice after helping you set up everything, and now you were waiting, hotpot soup base boiling on the stove.

You’d finished just a half an hour before six, and you leaned over the kitchen counter to browse through your text messages. One had just popped up from your friend before you heard an early knock on the front door.

Surprised at the prospect of someone showing up early, you put down your phone and sauntered over, and without even checking the keyhole to see who was standing there, you swung open the door wide, cheerfully giving a warm “Welcome!”, only to find yourself staring your ex-boyfriend in the face.

There was a pause where it seemed like everything that kept your heart beating and your neurons firing had turned off for the split second it took you to recognize him. This was disregarding the fact that he too looked like all the blood had drained from his face when he also realized you were standing right before him.

“___…,” he pronounced in shock.

The sound of his voice calling your name made your heart pound and your head pound and quickly, impulsively, you moved to slam the door.

Reflexively, he blocked it with his palm, not meaning it as aggression, but spurred by the fear of immediately being locked right back out of your life, where he belonged.

“Wait, can we please talk?”

The desperate tinge to his voice was too much to bear.

It had been three fucking years! Why now?

But instead of forcing the door closed against him again, you found yourself running into your bedroom and locking the door behind you, heart pounding in your ribcage in a frenzy. It was hard to think, maybe you were being a little bit too dramatic, but you couldn’t help the panic pumping through your veins.

Relax, relax, relax.

Ushijima, too, immediately forgot that this was no longer his home.

Even if he knew this place like the back of his hand, he recognized the same sofa in the center of the living room, where he’d held you and had you just like every other place in this wretched space, it was no longer his.

It didn’t stop him from breaching the entrance without your invitation, boldly following after you just to knock on the bedroom door that kept you safe and secure, begging for your attention.

“Please, ___. Please, can we talk?”

It didn’t take a genius to realize that he was in fact in the right place, this was his - no, your shared apartment - and traces of another man, Iwaizumi, were all over it.

Your voice was choked up in your throat but you weren’t yet crying, however you were terribly frustrated. Frustrated that three years after a breakup you were taking shelter in your own bedroom all because your ex showed up at your door. Frustrated that he wasn’t being mean, but instead he was being kind; in fact, you were worried there was a wisp of something more you could see in the pained look he had on first regard.

Too much.

Ushijima knocked again.

“Please.”

The correct thing to do would be to face him properly and ask him to take a seat and maybe if you were feeling extra generous, ask him how he was doing politely, limiting yourself to polite conversation, but instead you didn’t say a single word, biting your lip to hold back anger and hurt.

Three years and you were still like this.

“___!”

His voice raised this time, and again the desperation was clear and tugging at your heartstrings, but you would be damned if you were going to move from this spot. He didn’t bang on the door though - Ushijima always had too much self control to do anything fear-provoking out of anger, but he let out a heavy sigh you could hear directly from the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry-”

Whatever he planned to say was cut short by the slam of the front door and Iwa’s harsh voice yelling, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Your eyes grew wide as you heard the shuffle of quick moving feet and the thud of bodies hitting the wall, and then you realized that what this looked like was way worse than it actually was.

You fumbled to unlock the door only to see Ushijima pressed against the wall, hands to his side but fists clenched as though he were deciding whether to fight back; you could tell Iwa had already landed a heavy blow from the red spot blooming on his face, and the fact that Iwa still had a solid grip on the collar of Ushijima’s shirt, his fist still dangerously close to his face.

“Hajime!” You yelled, pulling at his arm. “Stop!”

He resisted your plea for him to stop initially, and you could tell he was seething even if he was still. Who wouldn’t be, if they thought their girlfriend was being accosted in their own space?

“T-toshi wasn’t going to do anything… we’re exes.”

Exes?

Iwa gave you a blank look, taking in the info all at once, but what stunned him the most at this very instant was the painfully familiar way you’d said Ushijima’s name.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwa x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi #mae.writing #haikyuu smut #not sfw #haikyuu x reader #series: be my last

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brownandblackpearls · 3 years

Text

📜 🖋 𝒞ourting with 𝒟r. 𝒟evorak (Julian x BlackReader) Pt.3

PART 3 SUMMARY:

You are a reputable, young beauty of means in Vesuvia, enjoying the winter courting season. An odd letter from an odd doctor finds its way to your door. You are on the second segment of your first date, attending a play in Vesuvia.

─── Julian x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── regency/historical/fantasy, courtship rituals, wealthy! MC, love letters, drama, handsome redheads

☾ previous. next.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

The obsidian carriage was a comfortable reprieve from the glare of the chilled sun rays. Drifts of snow were all too happy to try and reflect the light into your eyes, but the dark, shrouded curtains of the doctor’s vehicle saved you from the visual spotlights.

Swept in by your courter, you sit and watch Julian seat himself before his man yips the horses and pulls you all off, down the snowswept cobblestones.

You watch Julian watching you, thinking quietly to yourself about the events that have happened thus far, and letting the moment of silence cover you both. Sometimes, silence was just as good as words. What kind of man was Julian, in silence?

Shy, it seemed. He tries to pretend to glance out the window before being reeled back into your gaze, and finally, staying there. Shoulders stiff, you could almost feel the thoughts running through his mind.

You graced him a gentle smile, an offering.

Julian is more than eager to return it, nervousness be damned.

You were beginning to understand a little better why you felt so fond of him so fast, you realized. He was so…eager. Open. Even with all the little charades of character he pulled from time to time, they were more entertaining than anything. It did not come off as malevolent or manipulative. It was more experimental than anything. As anxious as your presence seemed to make him, Julian seemed comfortable enough in himself to try different things, different ways of being.

It didn’t hurt that he was very easy to read, and he read a tale of a soft heart on his sleeve.

You were very good at keeping yours under your sleeves, and something told you that Julian—as well as many others—liked the challenge enough to rise to it.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Julian says rather than asks, hope tingeing his tone.

“I am,” you confirm easily, showing your cards.

Pleased, his chest almost seemed to puff up in pride. You realize that Julian wants this courtship to be not just enjoyable, but memorable. Memorable enough for you to call upon him once more, memorable enough for you to savor spending time with him, to become hooked to it, and in turn, to him.

“What play shall we be seeing...?” You wonder aloud, tiring of your mental courting maps.

“It is a new showing,” Julian answers brightly, “’To Rake a Shrew’. One of my old friends behind-the-scenes, he explained some of the outline. It sounds delightfully dramatic.”

Your eyes widen.

You’ve always enjoyed a good, romantic drama.

“Do tell.”

Julian leans forward, looking every bit the cat that caught the canary and intended on sharing its prize. His large frame and sweeping height becomes much more apparent in the tiny space as he forgets himself and his nerves, confidence gleaming through his silver gaze as he speaks excitedly on the play.

He’s such a large man…yet graceful when he desires it…like reedgrass curtsying in the wind on a breezy, summer’s day. The whole of him is enough to cover you entirely. He’s visibly strong, you realize as your eyes rake over him. Yet he moves with such gentleness, especially when it concerns you. A helping hand, an assisting palm to elbow, a touch’s kiss above the lower back. You can feel the ability course through him, yet he remains composed and contained, as a proper doctor would.

Under the doctor however, there is yet a man.

With him this near, your senses flare.

His cologne is somewhat sharp, if not heady. All of him sticks out, dark, dashing, and enough to do whatever he’d like with you…to please…to pursue...to protect…

You suppress a shiver, taking in the sight of him. You’re not new at this particular game of attraction, but you’re still made of flesh and blood, and behave so. You swallow slightly, ignoring the way your heart picks up speed.

“…?” You suddenly realize Julian has called your name, and you’ve yet to answer.

“Forgive me,” you apologize. “I was caught in a thought! Please, tell me once more. I shall not wander again.”

Julian tilts his head curiously before smiling.

“It’s quite alright. I can be a bore, I’ve been told! What thought draws you away from me?”

‘You, actually.’

“Nothing of imminent concern, I assure you. I’d much rather hear you tell me of your friend and this play.”

Julian pauses before nodding, dropping the matter easily.

“Well, ‘To Rake a Shrew’ is about a Casanova descending upon a bustling town to find more conquests in love. He is a slave to beauty, but unfortunately for him, the most sought-after beauty in the town is a shrew unlike any other. She will bend to no one, especially not clownish, predictable seducers such as him. He changes his tactics to try and best her at his own game, however she wins in the end and dupes him while entertaining the love of another. And so...he attempts to seduce them both! The outcome of that mess is yet to be determined.”

You clap, terribly excited now. You love interesting plots and twisted triangles of romance, tripe and as common as they may be.

“Ooh, how devilish!”

“Indeed,” Julian agrees. “Do you think he’ll succeed in the end?”

“Well,” you suppose, “I’d have to see this Casanova. I want to know if his wooing is actually something of interest, or if he is simply full of his own air. Seducing two lovers at once? The gall! The work!”

Julian chuckles.

“Some could manage, I’d assume.”

“Oh?” You wonder. “Like who? You know people who could draw even those already entangled, in? That’s quite a feat.”

Surely he didn’t mean himself...? Julian seemed the shy sort, but was it all really an act? Could he be a playboy? He was certainly handsome enough to pull it off...perhaps you'd gotten ahead of yourself thinking that he was easy to read? It hadn't even been a day.

Julian pins a heavy gaze on you before flicking his eyes down to his hands casually, adjusting the hem of his glove. The leather creaks in a wonderful, quiet way over his regal fingers.

“I think perhaps, I know a few who could make that Casanova look like child’s play.”

‘Oh…’

“A few, you say?”

“Perhaps less than that, even.”

“...One?”

“Would it please you to hear so?” Julian teases lightly, a low heat simmering underneath it all.

“Only if it pleases you, to please me,” you test, returning the flame. “So it is one.”

“Perhaps.”

“Hm…an allure like no other is on the loose in our city…Dr. Devorak, should Vesuvia be afraid?” You jest, playing along with him.

Julian’s fingers halt at the sound of his title in your mouth. He levels another look at you, a smirk drawing up his face.

“Vesuvia will last. I, on the other hand…”

The carriage door sounds out a rapping of knuckles. Neither of you look away from one another. The challenge you both find there is too sweet.

“Sir Devorak, Lady _______, we have arrived at the Theater!”

You finally decide to turn away from your suitor then, the heat of Julian’s interest surprising you a little into your own nerves.

You like what you see there, you had simply…not expected to see it so soon in such a...heated manner...? Where did his nerves go?

‘So much for shy!’

The carriage door opens and Julian steps out first before clearing the snow with one big sweep of his boot, and lifts out a gloved hand to assist you. You gently take it, allowing him to ease you down onto the stones of the street. Though the sun is high in the sky now, the chill of winter has crept further into the air.

You do your best to suppress a shiver, but the concerned look on Julian’s face tells you that you’ve been caught.

“Allow me?” He asks, offering his arm for you.

“Naturally,” you consent, taking his arm in a deeper hold and stepping close to leech the warmth from him. Julian, though blushing now, seems all too pleased to have you nearer than propriety allowed, excluding chilly winter walks of course. No suitor would let the one they were courting be left out to the elements, unguarded! That was a quick recipe to losing out.

Julian leads you both away from the carriage, past the doorman, the playbill boys, the ushers, and down to the head seater.

“Tickets?” The staff member crows.

“We’ve our own box in the center section,” Julian says, his voice clear and assured.

You quietly watch as he easily discusses your seating with the somewhat confused staff member before watching as the worker realizes his grave error and bows, showing you both your way to your accommodations.

“Right here sir, madam! Watch your step! Ring the bell if you need anything—!“

A sudden noise makes all of you turn to the entrance to the private box, curtains now swishing aside as an angry, bustling man launches towards the staff member.

“This is my box!” The man bellows, puff sleeves flying. “I am gravely insulted. How do they train you louts these days? Even in Vesuvia’s worse I’ve never seen such a display of disrespect. I’ll be seeing your manager about this, most certainly.”

The man advances but Julian moves before anyone else really can, cutting the stranger off at the throat of the box’s entrance and herding him back with his own immense volume and size.

“Surely we can settle this like gentlemen,” Julian says in a soothing way, with a tone that is anything but.

“I beg your pardon? The only way this will ‘settle’ is if you all escort yourselves out of my box—“

The man tries to sidestep Julian, but finds himself blocked with every motion he makes. Julian is large, imposing, and will not let him pass.

Julian leans in then, his voice murmuring so low and so subdued that you can make no sense of it outside of the rumbling vibrations that do reach you. The staff member looks just as confused and out of the loop as you feel, but the man before Julian seems to understand with crystal clarity as trepidation colors his face. It soon melds into fear, to a quick, prideful facade.

The stranger takes a step back, scoffing loudly before exiting the box in a flurry of curtains and stomping boots.

Julian turns back to you both, a strained, yet somewhat humored look on his face.

“Well! That’s taken care of. Dizzy man, that one. Must’ve lost his way.”

“Ah,” you note, unsure of how to respond.

You were...admittedly nervous when that hostile, aggressive stranger entered the box so suddenly. It felt as if a fight had been imminent with a temper like that. And yet…

…Julian effectively diffused the situation. You’re fairly sure he used his own version of hostility, but he was conscious and chose to hide that side of him from your sight. You’re not sure why, aside from manners. A show of protectiveness does very little to wane your ever increasing interest in him.

Quite the opposite.

Maybe the Doctor is not as harmless or bumbling as he portrays himself to be...?

“Are you alright?” Julian asks you. “Is this box fine, or would you prefer another? That man will not be returning, but if you’re not comfortable, I will ensure that—“

“This is fine,” you insist gently. “As long as you’re here, I have no need to worry.”

When the initial surprise in your full trust finally fades from his eyes, Julian gives you the warmest of smiles.

“I—well, I—yes!”

The usher sneaks out as you and Julian lock gazes. The lights begin to dim in the theater. The crowd rumbles below in the pit, up in the stands, and from the teetering little boxes on all ends.

The show is about to begin.

“This way,” Julian says, offering his hand.

Julian helps guide you to your seat before securing the privacy of your box and seating himself beside you. For a moment, he is a flurry of cape and leather and boot before settling in to the cushy theater couch. His long legs jut out and he folds them, eyes on the stage, excitement in them.

You can’t help but follow suit, your eyes trailing the orchestra down below as they prepare to play alongside the show and its actors.

Suddenly, you feel eyes on you.

You take it in stride, keeping your gaze focused, but you know that Julian is peering at you. The dimmed lights have certainly sparked a more romantic mood than even the lit, dazzling, gilded chandeliers of the theater could evoke. There, in the cover of shadow and stage light, you feel yourself becoming the center of his particular show.

“You could have a portrait commissioned,” you joke lightly. “That would last you far longer, Doctor.”

A smooth chuckle resounds from your side before the words.

“If you’d allow it, I’d be honored.”

Now, it is your turn to look at him.

“You jest, sir.”

“I do not.”

You feel a smile break onto your face, before you turn once again towards the stage, biting your lip in amusement. The heavy, red stage curtains part before you can speak.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of Vesuvia! Welcome to the grand debut of To Rake a Shrew…!”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not copy, repost, translate, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

☾ previous. next.

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, FINALE)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 3,169

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Language Probably, Canon Divergence, Alcohol, Implied Torture, Espionage, Fem!Reader @tiktoktheclockisticking

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: I can’t believe it’s over. Damn... okay.

Kabuto sat at the bar. He fiddled with the neck of his near-empty bottle.

You hadn’t been home for about three days.

Even in a village full of trained shinobi, no one seemed to notice him. But with all his years in espionage, Kabuto would be surprised if anyone did. The bartender came over, motioning to take the glassware, but Kabuto held up a hand with the shake of his head. The bottle stayed. He originally intended for the bottle to be more of a prop than an actual drink, but the more he asked about you and the more people didn’t seem to know, the less decorative the liquid became. No one seemed to know your name and if they did, they certainly didn’t acknowledge it. Kabuto only heard the same story and not much more: that a terror attack was carried out on the Leaf by the Sound. While Orochimaru did send men after you, Kabuto saw that crater with his own eyes. He knew two things for sure: your chakra signature and that the Leaf was trying to cover it up. Kabuto took a deep breath, assuring himself that he just hadn’t found the right person to talk to yet.

“That was a pretty deep sigh there.” Kabuto turned to his right. The man next to him leaned on his elbows, slightly hunched over the counter. A few wisps of hair fell from his high ponytail. He took a sip of his drink, nose scrunching at the strength. The scar across his face flexed with his red-tinted cheeks. The man met Kabuto’s gaze. He motioned to Kabuto’s, unknown to him, stolen vest. “Are they working you Jounin as hard as I’ve heard?” Kabuto faked a slight laugh.

“Oh yes they are,” he answered, bobbing his head a few times. Kabuto fully intended on leaving the conversation there, but he took a momentary pause and studied the man out of the corner of his eye. Kabuto bit the inside of his lip before turning fully on his stool to offer his hand to the stranger. “Asai Takehiko,” he lied. The man grabbed his hand without a moment of hesitation.

“Umino Iruka.” The Leaf ninja introduced himself before downing the rest of his drink before waving the bartender over for another. Iruka motioned towards Kabuto. “I’ve never seen you around.”

“I graduated to Jounin recently. You know how it is with new meat on the battlefield. I suppose being thrown in at the deep end is one way to gain experience.” Iruka chuckled.

“So you must not have been home for a while then. I’ll cheers to that.” He lifted his glass and Kabuto fingers wrapped around the neck of his own bottle. The glasses clinked together. Kabuto held his to his lips, pretending to take a sip as he studied the dwindling liquid of Iruka’s cup. After a few seconds, Iruka came up for air. “Not taking the Jounin exam is definitely something I don’t regret.” Kabuto quirked an eyebrow.

“What are they having you do?”

“I teach.” Kabuto’s eyes flickered in amusement. He restrained the corners of his lips from turning upward, covering his mouth with one hand in order to not give himself away.

“You teach? I’m assuming at the Academy?” Iruka nodded and Kabuto snorted, hitting Iruka playfully on the arm. “You work with kids and you’re day drinking on a weekday?” The mocking tone translated nicely into playfulness.

“It’s been that kind of week, my friend.” Iruka’s smile faltered, his gaze focused on blank space as he seemed to recall a particularly bitter memory. Kabuto’s expression narrowed. He had a hunch, but he wasn’t about to reveal his hand yet. Perhaps luck shone down on him after all. Kabuto took another swig from his drink with a casual shrug.

“I think everyone’s been kinda on edge. You know, with what happened. An attack in the middle of the village is some real scary stuff.” Iruka pursed his lips, a subtle display of body language that was not lost on Kabuto. He went on. “You know, just being a new rank in this line of work. I have family around where it happened. I’m afraid that I won’t be there to protect them if something like this happens again.” Iruka shook his head.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said with a fair amount of hesitation. He gulped, running a palm across his face. “With all the precautions being taken by the Hokage I’m sure that it won’t happen again any time soon.” Kabuto crossed his legs and tilted his head.

“You seem to have more information than I do. And you seem pretty upset.” Iruka let out a bitter huff.

“Yeah, I think that’s an understatement.” Kabuto paused, giving time for his victim to marinate in his thoughts before he probed further. Iruka’s chest puffed out as he filled his lungs with air. Another heavy huff. “It’s all just… very confusing and conflicting and I haven’t been able to get proper sleep for a while because for some weird reason I feel responsible.” Iruka didn’t bat an eye at his own confession or at the fact that he was venting to a stranger. Kabuto’s interest, however, was piqued.

“Responsible, huh?” He put a hand on Iruka’s shoulder and pointed a finger at his chest with the other. “You sound like you’re being way too hard on yourself.”

“I wish I was.” Yet another sigh from Iruka. “I really do…” Kabuto frowned, faux confusion washing over his features.

“It was the Sound Village, my man. I think you’ve had one too many to be thinking that kinda stuff.” Iruka hesitated as he looked around wildly. The bar had, for the most part, cleared out to leave Kabuto, Iruka, and a single stranger at the very end of the bar. The bartender had stepped out at some point during their conversation. Iruka leaned in a bit closer.

“Okay, you promise that this stays between you and me?” Kabuto inwardly celebrated his victory but kept his expression concerned and humble. Demeanor sympathetic, he nodded. Iruka looked around again before whispering, “The Hidden Sound didn’t attack the Leaf. At least not directly.” Kabuto blinked, mouth agape in faux surprise.

“What does that mean?” He started to grow just the slightest bit impatient, but Kabuto reminded himself that after days of information gathering, he had struck gold. He was going to find you, no matter what it took.

“It means that the Hokage is investigating one of our own for conspiracy and treason.” Kabuto covered his mouth before letting his wrist fall back onto his lap.

“No. Conspiracy against the village?” Kabuto couldn’t help the slightest bit of guilt gnaw at him. Maybe he hadn’t been as careful visiting you as he thought he had been, but for the moment he pushed those thoughts from his mind. He tilted his head towards the ceiling, eyes moving back and forth in pretend thought. “This wouldn’t be a friend of yours would it?” Kabuto met Iruka’s surprised eyes.

“How did you know?” Iruka’s guard was officially down. Kabuto offered a friendly smile.

“Well because you’re so distraught! Anyone could take a guess. Have you at least gotten a chance to talk to her?” Iruka recognized something off about his new friend’s statement, but he couldn’t pinpoint it in his intoxication. He nodded, describing the journey to your cell and your painful conversation.

But Kabuto didn’t care much for the bit about your conversation. Rather, he sat in quiet, victorious awe as the building you were in and the floor number slipped from Iruka’s lips. In the end, that’s all he would need. Iruka, at least at the moment, didn’t suspect a thing.

***

The blood remained smeared across your skin despite your injuries healing hours before. The Leaf had gotten creative.

You were certain that Iruka didn’t believe your story, so you were confident that the Torture and Interrigation Force didn’t either. Even if it was the truth. You steadied yourself and slowly leaned back to lay down on your cot. In spite of your closed wounds, your muscles stretched in soreness. You shifted to one side, spine cracking along your back. The taste of your own blood lingered in your mouth.

The moon shone through the sliver of a window near the ceiling of your cell. Looking up, you couldn’t help but wonder what Kabuto was doing. You wondered if he was looking for you. You cringed at the memory of your last conversation. The night where you practically threw yourself at him in desperation, spouting feelings that perhaps should have gone unspoken. Maybe Iruka was right. Maybe you really weren’t making any sense. You sighed aloud to yourself. Yeah, you sure scared him off alright.

You let your eyes flutter shut. You hadn’t been allowed to enjoy a full night of sleep and you knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone came to drag you away again. You didn’t suppose that many fraternized with Sound ninja just for the companionship. The Leaf expected a grander plot. Part of you considered making up a lie, that maybe you’d be let go if you told them what they wanted to hear, but you knew no matter what you said you’d be stuck. Your breathing slowed quickly and for once since you had been locked up, a semblance of peace overcame you.

By the time you heard the door open, you didn’t even know whether or not you had actually had any time to rest. You were still exhausted, but the moment you heard the tinkering of keys at your cell door you bolted straight up. Out of it, you didn’t even register standing until after the fact. Two shinobi entered your confines. You could hardly muster a coherent thought and you certainly couldn’t process the body of the unconscious guard that fell at your feet.

“You weren’t away that long that you forgot about me, were you, dear?”

You dragged your eyes up, heart beating faster and faster. Kabuto stood before you. He still held his kunai. The Konoha Jounin uniform fit him nicely, a vision of what might have been in another world. He grinned ear to ear, smug smirk plastered onto his lips. Your eyes widened. Without a moment's hesitation, you went to him and he accepted you with open arms. His weapon clattered to the floor. Your lips crashed into one another’s like waves on the shore. Kabuto held you close. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your fingers tangled in his hair. Kabuto’s stolen hitai-ate fell down around his eyes. He pushed it back up and you both parted. He was there, right there under your fingertips. You couldn’t stop shaking. You buried your face in his shoulder and he caressed the back of your head. Hot tears ran down your cheeks and down his vest. You didn’t even realize that you were crying.

“I wasn’t that bad, was I? I know this wasn’t really my style, but they’re really stingy with the keys around here.” And Kabuto laughed, blinking back the drops that threatened to spill over his own waterline. He wasn’t ever one to cry and he’d be damned if he looked like anything less than a hero during your rescue. You snickered with him and clenched your eyes shut, further staining your cheeks. The side of your face melted into his palm and Kabuto leaned his forehead against yours.

“You came back for me,” You breathed, inhaling his familiar scent. He smelled like the village, something akin to mornings in the forest. “H-h-how, how did you? What did, did you?” You could hardly find the words. Kabuto grasped your hand.

“Doesn’t matter.” He breathed in. He wasn’t too late.

***

Konoha, despite its strength, was in many ways a dated nation. The alarm bells didn’t even begin to ring until you and Kabuto were half way across town. You had to hurry. Leaf shinobi acted quickly and every second a new set of peering eyes were being awakened from their beds.

You followed Kabuto closely. You didn’t get to ask any questions, you didn’t have time. All that you knew for sure is that Kabuto, once again, came to your rescue. What that meant, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to question it.

Kabuto stopped in front of you and knelt down.

“You go ahead.” You became very aware of the bags under your eyes and the bolt of adrenaline in your veins. He began to unpack a few items from his equipment, attaching paper bombs to kunai and preparing traps that you couldn’t process properly in your tired haze.

“What are you going to do?” The corners of Kabuto’s lips tugged into a sly grin. He took a bit too much pleasure in moments like these. Nimble fingers pulled knots tightly. By the time he rose back up again, he could’ve easily been mistaken for a walking arsonal.

“Buy us a little more time… and little insurance,” he said, not even bothering to hide the glee in his eyes, “It’s a straight shot from here. You know where to meet me. Wait for me there.” As he turned away you grasped onto his sleeve.

“Wait,” You gulped, casting your eyes downward with hot cheeks. Kabuto let out an amused scoff before leaning to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“As much as I appreciate the concern, we’re getting low on time, dear.” He dragged a finger across the outline of your ear, tucking a few strands on hair back. “I’ve got this handled. Go, I’ll be there before you even know I’m gone.”

And with one last squeeze of his wrist, he went. You let out a shaky breath before facing the opposite direction. You had started to build up some nerve a while ago. It was recent, but nonetheless you’ve started… so you supposed you shouldn’t stop now. Jumping from your place, you began running across the rooftops. Your eyes locked onto the forest. You sped to your top speed, darting into the woods. Free. The branches and leaves blurred together as you continued on. You took a sharp inhale. You knew that you wouldn’t be back here anytime soon.

You ran until the exhaustion caught up with you. Your back felt drenched with sweat, you stopped at a small clearing among the trees. Leaning up against the bark, you forced air into your lungs in an attempt to sate the burning within them. Your head pounded as fatigue gripped your muscles. The meeting spot wasn’t too far ahead. An often overlooked piece of the forest, you were sure that no one would find you here.

A rustling came from nearby.

“You know, when you said that you’d be back before I knew you were gone I didn’t think you’d be back that…” You trailed off. The man that stood in front of you was not Kabuto, but Iruka. He wore half civilian clothes. The scar on his face and his hitai-ate were the only articles that could have truly signified that he was a shinobi. His determined eyes met yours unyieldingly as he panted from his travel. You were in no shape to fight him. “How did you find me?”

“You’re leaving,” he noted, exasperated. His eyes were opened slightly wider than usual. Perhaps even he didn’t know what he was seeing. The trees rustled above you. Quiet overtook the landscape. It was only you and Iruka. “This was the only direction you could have taken and not have gotten caught. Direct path from the compound...”

“Yeah,” You answered, heart beating rapidly in your chest. “I…” Your features softened. Your shoulders slumped and you let out a heavy sigh. Iruka remained silent. “You know I can’t stay here. I-I can’t just stay locked up like that.” He hung his head, arms coming to cross in front of his chest. He nodded, bobbing his head a few times. Iruka’s hand came to run through his hair.

“I… I know.” He pursed his lips, stammering over his words. “You didn’t, uh…”

“I didn’t kill anyone.” You defended yourself quickly. A shiver worked its way down your spine. “Anyone else I should say.” You mirrored him and crossed your arms.

A pause. Iruka could have taken you in, but something told you that he wasn’t going to.

“I’m sorry for not having more faith in you. I’m sorry if I could have done something to prevent all of this.” The honesty in his admission shot straight to your heart. You weren’t leaving behind a lot that you would miss in the Leaf, but Iruka was most definitely one of them.

“This was inevitable. You… thought what anyone would think. I can’t blame you for that.” You gestured to yourself. “I’m sorry for what I said and I just want you to know that I’ve always appreciated our friendship.”

“No,” Iruka waved a hand before it returned back to the crook of his elbow. “I—”

“Why don’t you tell me next time?” Iruka’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. You shrugged with a smile. “There’s a lot to talk about. A lot to apologize for. Let’s just… save it for the next time we see each other. Because you’re not losing me for good. We’ll just… catch up a lot later than we meant to.” Iruka’s expression melted into something resembling sentiment.

“Yeah. For sure. We’ll catch up later.” You approached him and you enveloped each other in a sweaty hug. You took him in, the last of your life in Konohagakure. He rested his chin on your head. “He better treat you right.”

“He will. He does. You don’t have to worry about that.” You parted, Iruka’s hands remained on your shoulders. A rustling came from behind you and both of you turned to look as Kabuto appeared at the other end of the small clearing. He had two bags slung over his shoulders. He gave a respectful nod towards Iruka who gave a small wave back.

“Umino Iruka, nice seeing you again.” Iruka pointed a finger towards the rogue ninja with playfulness in his voice.

“You, sir, are a menace to spies everywhere.” Kabuto cracked a smile with a snort.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

And with one last contrite look, you and Iruka parted ways. He jumped out into the wilderness and you turned to Kabuto. Leaflitter crunched under your feet as you made your way over. You wrapped your arms around him. He murmured a few sweet words into your ear and your lips brushed against his cheek.

“So where are we going?” You asked as you took one of the bags with the assumption that it was for you.

“Wherever you’d like to go.” Kabuto’s fingers laced between yours. “I don’t know. I don’t have a plan from here if you’d believe that, my dear.” You gave his hand a squeeze.

“Perfect.”

Notes: Does anyone else smell a sequel series ‘cause, uh, I left things very open for a reason? Like any finale I’d love to hear what you have to say!

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#Kabuto Yakushi x reader #kabuto x reader #kabuto yakushi #kabuto #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto #x you #x reader #reader insert

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secretbangtnn · 3 years

Text

Best Of Me| Two

Pairings : →ot7 x reader, poly!BTS x reader

Genre : → vampireau, yandere!au, age gap, gore, obsessive behavior, ddlg/caregiver, poly, fantasy, supernaturals

summary : It’s quite unusual to find a little baby on your doorstep, especially that their area was not of the poorest - you could say that a vampire town was efficient with money and snobby creatures. However over time the first idea of just giving back the little girl seems more and more radical and those moody vampires slowly start perceiving deeper feelings to human they even wanted to kill.

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notes ~ I did it!!! Omg im so happy I finished it, hopefully the next one are going to come sooner. The first chapters are going to be with a baby oc - im sorry if its boring, but after it we can start with the real plot, the things are gonna get dark. Hope that you will like it, and remeber to give me some feedback - im whore for a comments and ask and beside they motivate me very much

taglist :

@missseoulite @gukkculture @silscintilla @the-falling-star @apollonshootafar @mwitsmejk @lovinggalaxies @b-e-t-x-s-o @jisoosbitch @ariverflowsonthemoon @maboiisuga @peachescream1723 @sichajeon

Cries everywhere. Sobbing so loud that all the birds disappeared from their little birdhouse outside the window. And as funny the view was, a big ball of stress and nerves started collecting itself in the rather calm manor. Reason of all this mess was just one, so easy to notice.

“Jungkook!” Just like a ball of nerves now the big ball of dirty blankets and clothes hit the young vampire, making him stumble a little. Obvious disgust on his face with a piece of distaste on his tongue which just a second ago had been caused by the same thing he now fisted in his hands.

“You didn’t have to throw it at me!” Barked Jungkook staring at the broad shoulders of his oldest brother. Child now a little calmer, however still sobbing slightly, keeping the atmosphere at bay.

“You have brung the kid so you will hold the things he made. Be happy that I'm not forcing you to change the diaper instead.”

Disgust on all of their faces is now being something normal, having kids in the same room as them, definitely does not go well with hundred years old vampires. The only one without a gag reflex seems to be Seokjin, acting like a pro mother, just after her 3rd pregnancy with the next on the road. However all of them agreed with the statement that it was all but Jungkook's fault, which came with consequences for said boy.

Thus now sitting on the couch, five of the ramaing vampires, looked with a bored expression at the panicked and nearly vomiting jungkook. Youngest of them always had a soft stomach, never being the one to clean after disasters, forcing people to basically clean after him, and maybe that's why all of them felt such a satisfaction upon them while staring at the shitty situation.

Literally shitty.

Stumbling a little from the intense smell, Jungkook started to try getting rid of the used diaper in his hands, holding it with his fingers dingling it as far from his face as he could. Maybe the smelly object was not the only thing that should be named like a feces, knowing that a person who should just throw the diaper away, purposefully walked closer than intended to a couch with older vampires, stumbling not that accidentally and making the thing in his hand fly straight to a lap of a reading Namjoon.

A moment of silence, only lasting for a short second. Namjoon was never the one to shout or get mad, rather prefering to act calm and well put together, believing in a peace making and solutions not requiring usage of violence but when the heavy baggage on his lap suddenly started to warm his lap, he completely crushed his persona as well as book in his hands.

“Ups...hehe.” Jungkook laughed awkwardly, knowing well his fate. Doe eyes looked at the tall man, standing a little farther than him, just behind the couch. Jaw tightened so were the hands, keeping the last strings of calmness that were floating on very dangerous water.

“Listen, before you actually do something think of the time when you destroyed my ps4 and

I did not even complain.” Hands just before him similar to the way you would to with a wild animal, and in Jungkook's opinion, it was not that far from the truth, observing how Namjoons jaws nearly crushed from the tension.

“Okay okay, we all need to calm down, It was just an accident.” Cut in red head, standing in the middle of the war zone. It was stupid idea, definetly not the brightes of the sunny vampire, even if it came from the good intentions. Hoseok, just like an innocent child that got stuck in a big people argument, was the one that got hurt in the end.

And everybody knew that when Hoseok gets mad it's the extremity that anyone in this room is scared to experience once again. There is silent agreement between the rest of the brothers that was made after one of Hoseok's outburst, promising that no matter what the devil can’t come out.

The apple of discord laying now upon redhead’s feet, innocent like a little kitten that just waits to be petted, but in this case it wasn neither a fluffy ball of fur and definitely not something that should be touched.

Silence so loud, banging in their ears with an uneven breath. Second after second, rest that were not included in the middle, counted sitting on their heels with nerve wracking feelings.They stared as Hoseok’s shoulders rose and went down with each puff of air from his flared nostrils, neither of them dared to move, preferring to stay in a safe zone.

Just as red headed one wanted to take his first kill, a loud laugh echoed in a room, coming from a little child in Seokjin's arms, that probably just came back from being cleaned up. A fresh smile on its face, eyes sparkly looking straight at the scene.

“What are you doing, idiots?” Asked Seokjin, a visible vein on his forehead, sticking out under his free hand that now pinched a bridge of his nose. His eyes catching a glimpse of the used diaper, right on his favorite carpet. “You had one thing to do, one thing Jungkook.”

“It was an accident I swear on my ps4!” He tried explaining, shaking his arms. Seokjin saw to much lived too long to believe it, everybody knew it but even than they acted like bunch of idiots when something like this happen.

“Namjoon destroyed it, you said it yourself.” Spoke Jimin, sitting on a couch with a happy smile, pleased with himself. Younger's head immediately halted in his way, a look of betrayal on his face.

“You midge…”

“I don’t care, just clean it up, in the meantime me with the little snack are going to cook something, right my little cutie?” Cuted the older while caressing the child in his arms, turning his voice in a baby one. And just like this the scene came to the same point, the only difference was that neither Namjoon or Hoseok were in the room, probably running away as fast as Sekojins came.

Jungkook sighed, squatting down to take care of the said thing. Again the disgust and a feeling of nausea hitted him with a side giggles of his blonde haired brother.

Going into the kitchen he spotted the child that looked at him as soon as he appeared. Little smile and sweet laugh, making him soft and mushy for a while.

“I hope you know that you gave us a big problem with bringing a human child there.” Seokjin spoke, not looking from a cutting board, himself to immersed in said action

Jungkook knew, earlier thinking of it like a mere action, something that they can get rid of as fast as a lollipop wrapper. But it was not, and now looking at the kid, he realized how his careless behaviour could weigh down not only on his family but the whole society of vampires.

“I’m-”

“Don’t just apologize, we need to take care of it as fast as we can, in the meantime doing everything to not harm it. If someone finds out it’s going to be a bigger problem, probably even straining the relationship with human - and that’s something we do not want.” Cuted older, in the end turning around pointing the sharp knife on Jungkook.

It was true, the delicate stattlement between those two societies is still new, fresh and hot, ready to burn anyone's fingers, anyones who is to carless. The today is a better world, something that all of the brothers know, remembering dark times - some of them being not older than mere hatchling then. World was a dangerous place to live in, vampires hunting humans, humans hunting vampires, a competition that never got settled, and they hope it never will.

“Try feeding it and come to the living room after you are done. We will discuss the next actions - good luck.” A little wink at the end, Seokjin wiped his hands off on the way patting the younger's back, harder than normally.

“Wait what?! You are not being serious right now, right?” Asked confused Jungkook, fastly turning around to an already disappearing figure. Cold sweat on his body as he looked at the smooth face of the older, that defended a flying kiss to his shocked self. “Why can’t you do it?”

“I can. But the human seems to take a liking to you.” And how absurd it sounded, the baby really looked at Jungkook like some god, sparkly eyes always following his bigger figure.

“Seokjin! Don’t leave me please, I can’t do it.”He whined, looking for the said man, to his luck he was nowhere to be found. It was going to be alright - he tried to believe in those words now clutching baby spoon, that he was sure they did not have, and a mashed food, looking more like dog food than actual meal.

His Eyes staring right into the sparkly and to obnoxious happy, making him even more irritated. In the end, Jungkook hated little children, being and acting like one himself

Little hands stretching towards him with a toothless smile on the side, getting bigger as Jungkook came closer. That was it, taking a big breath he come to the other side of the table - almost touching the stool where the human sat. Ready and determined to get the task done, treating it similar to a quest in the game, he took the little spoon with some of the smashed food, and started to get closer to the child's mouth.

And as the brothers again started to live their normal life, thinking that at least for now, everything is settled, a very obvious squeal shook the while house.

“HYUNG!...IT WANTS TO TOUCH ME! GET IT AWAY, GET IT AWAY!”

___

All of them now sitting on the couches and armchairs, taking nearly all of the space. Some of the observing the crawling baby with prominent couriousty some of them with disgust even fear, not knowing what future the baby will bring.

Namjoon although feeling the little distaste, knew or better had a plan with what to do.

Smile on his lips not reaching his eyes, however stumbling on the way of eye contact with some of his brothers.

“Okay so, definitely we need to do something with...this.” Said Jimin, look on his face full of distress and disgust resting on the child, that as if it knew of Jimin’s attention looked back full of giggles and reaching hands.

“That is obvious, we can’t keep human child.” Barked Yoongi, the one which rather prefered to stay quiet in those metters.

“Jungkook should take care of it, It’s not my fault he is to stupid to not question a left human on a doorstep.” Smug smile now on Jimin's face, as he gave the side glance to the said male, happy with triggering the younger temper.

“As If you woul…”

“Okay we get it Jimin, it was Jungkook's fault, but still it can affect us all, so try to be at least a little bit helpful or shut up” Interrupted Seokjin staring at both of them in turn. The oldest obviously tired of all of the drama, massaging his scalp, to relieve the tension a little. “Let's start one by one, any ideas?”

Silence, a loud silence throwing the tension to the already burning fire. Seokjin's vein once again appeared on his forehead, making Jungkook nearly knock from a terrifying sight of it. It was pulsating, green and bumpy.

“Maybe let’s put it back?” Asked the quiet voice, Sekojin ready to snap at the stupid idea thinking that some of the youngers don’t know limit of the unfunny jokes, only to find innocent eyes of Hoseok.

“That’s … well that is AN option, thank you Hoseok - keep it up. Any other ideas?” Seokjin’s hands molded into a thump, giving the tired smile to Hoseok, knowing of his still busing nerves.

“Why are we even trying so hard, throw it away i say.” Jimin mumbled while staring at the little child going his way, quickly putting his feet on the couch, scared of a chance of being touched by the human.

Tired sight left mouth of the olders, his vein fading a little - to Jungkook luck, and his hands now clenching his blonde lock. He was helpless, disappointed in his brother's ideas and intelligence. He was sure that, that was indeed an end, his family will be arrested for keeping human, and vampires are going to lose a peace they fighted for.

Everything because Jungkook wanted to take unfamiliar child to their house.

“What about the orphanage that opened like one month ago, can’t we just leave it there?” Cuted Namjoon, making everyone snap their head. Seokjin nearly crying, wanting to kiss his brother as much as choke him for his slow process of thinking.

“Couldn’t you say earlier?!

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