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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: For @sillyrabbit81’s follower milestone celebration; Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

Prompt [screenshot at the end]: Slow & Romantic, Tied Up, Clark Kent

Warnings: Subby Clark should be considered a warning, rope bondage (Shibari), poorly hidden Anakin Skywalker quote, oral sex (f/m receiving), cum swallowing

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. [I promise I am working on Bright Like The Moon still, but Sub!Clark though!]

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist

It had been days of him dropping hints. He was sending me links to shibari websites, referring to me as Miss without provocation, and kneeling at my feet when I entered a room.

The man was relentless, but I understood it perfectly when he explained it over dinner. He was calm and collected, but I’m sure it took all of the Kryptonian’s strength not to melt.

“I save people all of the time, it feels nice to be so needed. It feels amazing to be in control, don’t get me wrong,” He looks at me while rising from his chair and coming to kneel next to mine, “But I want to relinquish control. I want someone else to have power over me. I want you to own me, Miss. Please, will you help me?”

His politeness always went straight to my pussy. This man could hold the planet but needed to feel protected, I could do that. “I’ll help you, Clark. On one condition.”

“Anything,” he whispers, already slipping into submissive mode.

“You give yourself over to me completely. From this moment on, until you can’t take any more, and I’ll be the judge of that, you are mine to do with whatever I please. Do you understand?” I ponder aloud, my hand ghosting across his jawline.

“Yes, Miss. I understand that you are in control,” he breathes, his blue eyes blazing in the low light of the dining room. Damn, he is such a good little sub already.

“Good boy,” I hum, running my fingers through his curls. Now, I expect a response and when I didn’t get one, I let him know what happens when he does the wrong thing. Grabbing a fistful of his hair and tightening my grip, I growl in his ear. “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

“Thank you, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss,” he whimpers, eyes remorseful.

“Now he gets it,” I purr, releasing my grip on his hair. “You’re going to go to the guest room. You’re going to crawl on your hands and knees. When you get there, you’re going to strip completely and wait for me. When your head is down and your hands are resting on your thighs, I’ll know you’re ready to begin. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss, I understand,” he affirms, looking down in servitude.

“Good boy,” I beam, getting up to stand over him, “Go on then, show Miss that you can follow directions.”

“Yes, Miss,” he says, hands going to the floor in front of him as he begins to crawl on his hands and knees through the house, looking for all intents and purposes like a cat stalking after prey. But this time, I was the predator. Watching his shoulder blades shift through his tight dress shirt, his perfect ass swaying in those perfectly tailored dress pants. The man was a vision of lust. And I was ready to tear him apart.

In truth, I did make him wait for just a hairsbreadth longer than I intended to. I took my time getting ready, slipping into some new lingerie Clark had never seen and dabbing his favorite scent on my wrists and neck. I grab the rope and my Hitachi and put on my highest stilettos. I walk slowly to the guest room, letting the click of my heels alert him that I was coming.

Entering the room, I see Clark kneeling with his back to the bed. Head down, hands resting on his thighs. My sub is so good at following the rules. And by the way his cock hangs heavy between his legs, I can tell he is beyond excited to start.

“Such a good boy, waiting so patiently for me,” I purr, stalking over to him and placing one hand within his curls and one on his cheek, “We have a few things to go over and then we can get started, ok baby?”

“Yes, Miss,” he acknowledges his understanding, turning to my hand to kiss my palm.

“That brings us to Rule #1: You don’t get to touch unless I give you permission. I will allow you this one mistake, but be clear that is the only one. Rule #2: You cum when I say you do, no sooner or later. Rule #3: If I ask you what color, you respond with green for good, yellow for slow down, or red for stop. Do you understand these rules?” I step back and raise his chin so he can look me in the eye.

“Yes, Miss, I understand these rules,” he sighed, pupils blown and wild.

“Good boy. To make sure Rule #1 is followed to the letter, I’m going to take away your ability to use your hands. May I begin to restrain you?”

“Yes, Miss,” he agrees, watching me as I pick up the red rope I brought into the room with me.

“Good boy. Stand for me so I can tie your chest and arms,” I croon, waiting until he was at his full height to kiss and nip at his jawline as I untwined the rope slowly.

I find the tails of the rope, holding onto the bight, and begin to tie the Shinju harness across his broad chest. As I tighten the rope every so often, I also tease Clark’s nipples with the soft pads of my fingers. I lean in and lick and bite at his pectoral muscles until he squirms. I connect his arms to the harness, keeping them straight to emphasize his chest as he is forced to stand straighter. I finish and stand back to look at my work.

“We both know you can get out of the rope if you need to. But in keeping with the rest of the night, I’m going to let you out of the ropes if you need to be rid of them. Color?” I prod, suddenly feeling the reality of domming Superman.

“Green, Miss,” he assures, cock bobbing happily between his legs.

I reach down and lightly squeeze the base of his cock and he whimpers. “On your knees facing the bed,” I insist, pushing down on his shoulders. I sit on the bed after taking off my lace thong and I put my shins on his shoulders. “You look hungry, Clark. Why don’t you eat my pussy until I cum on that pretty face of yours?”

“Yes, Miss” he breathes, getting to work with that wicked tongue of his. I don’t understand how he is holding himself up without the use of his hands, but it must be a balance thing. I don’t put too much thought into it as my focus is elsewhere.

Before I know it, Clark is humming around my clit at just the right decibel to have me screaming his name. He then laps up my juices as they flow uncontrollably from me, leaning back after I push him back.

“Thank you, Miss,” he says, ever the polite submissive.

“Such a good boy, you are, Clark. I think you’ve earned an orgasm,” I praise, getting up to grab the Hitachi. I play with the settings, letting the lowest setting stay on while I tease Clark’s nipples. When he starts to wriggle at the sensation, I push the head of the Hitachi against the underside of his balls. This is where the fun begins…

With his balls being stimulated, I lean down and wrap my lips around his cockhead, swirling my tongue. Clark groans so loud and for so long, it feels like his entire being will explode.

“May I please cum, Miss?” he yelps, his breathing fast-paced.

“Cum for me, Clark,” I confirm, watching as Clark’s tension ebbs away. His tightly shut eyes pop open and he cries out as his cock erupts into my eagerly awaiting mouth. After a few seconds, I realize he is still cumming and turn off the Hitachi, putting it to the side. I wait until his cock only twitches but doesn’t release any more spunk and I pull off of him in enough to catch him as he pitches forward.

“Clark, I’m taking off the ropes, ok?” I don’t wait for an answer as I make quick work of releasing his arms and sliding the ropes off of him. I roll him over on his back and see his eyes searching mine. “I’m right here baby, are you ok? I think that orgasm might have been a little too intense.”

“I’m…k. Yeah, in…tense. Thank you…Miss,” he stutters, a lazy grin on his face, cock still twitching.

“You did so good baby, I am so proud of you,” I croon, leaning Clark into my lap while I check his arms and chest for rope burns. When I see nothing to worry about, I run my fingers through his curls. “How are you feeling now, Clark?”

“I think a few brain cells are gone completely but it was so worth it. I think I was deep in subspace for a second there,” he smiles up at me, love beaming in his eyes.

“Yeah, I would say so. That means you really needed it,” I kiss the tip of his nose, “So, I think I know the answer, but for my own ego, how did I do?”

“You took such good care of me. I felt so safe with you. And the way you took charge and realized I needed to end the scene? That was perfect. I couldn’t ask for a better Domme. Thank you, baby,” He brings my face down to his and kisses me.

“You are very welcome. What do you say we go take a bath together and then watch some bad tv?” I smile down at him and wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“That sounds wonderful,” he chuckles and gets up from the floor, reaching his hand out to me.

I take his hand and allow him to lead me to the tub. We bathe and get dressed in comfy jammies and spend the rest of the night watching tv and cuddling.

**Tag List**

Henry Fanfiction: @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Prompt screenshot:

#rabbitsmilestone23 #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x black reader #clark kent x black!reader

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brokenstar28 · 8 months

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Incorrect Bat-Family Quotes

Bruce: I tried to write ‘I'm a functional adult’ but my phone changed it to ‘fictional adult’ and i feel like that’s more accurate.

~~~

Jason: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

~~~

Tim, sleep deprived: There are three chairs and five kids. What do you do?

Dick: Get two more chairs.

Bruce: Cut each chair in half to make six.

Damian: Make them fight for a chair.

Jason: Get rid of two kids.

Babs: Just make two of the kids stand.

Bruce: ...That makes more sense.

~~~

Dick: Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, and wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

Tim, sleep deprived: That's deep.

Damian: That means that ketchup is a smoothie.

Tim, still sleep deprived: That's deeper.

Jason: ...You guys are idiots.

~~~

Damian: So I got this amazing plan!

Tim: We fail almost every time you say that.

Damian: Well this is the same! But with a hamster involved.

~~~

Jason: I just found out that humans are capable of fitting a light bulb into their mouth with ease but can’t take it out without shattering it, and now I have to physically restrain myself from putting a light bulb in my mouth

~~~

Damian: I thought you were going to give me a book recommendation or something.

Bruce: *laughs* Book recommendation? I can’t read!

~~~

Jason: Problem, I can't tell if this food is over-sauced or under-cooked.

Dick: Solution, just pop it back in the oven for another 10 minutes. There's at least a 50% chance that'll fix it, right?

Jason: Result, the food has somehow become unpleasantly soggy and unpleasantly crunchy at the exact same time.

Tim: No better time than this to pull out my favorite word! Slunchy!

Damian: ...put it away.

~~~

Jason: If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're impressed.

Damian: But you do know better. Somehow.

~~~

Tim: I am going to cry. I’m going to cry until I can no longer physically cry anymore because all the water in my body is gone and I die from dehydration.

Jason: Are you okay?

Damian: Did you actually just ask him that? Like, you need that to be answered otherwise you won’t know?

~~~

Tim: Just took a personality test and got an A+.

~~~

Dick: Just one more! And then maybe another one.

~~~

Jason: If you could guess, how many brain cells do you have?

Tim, has not slept all mouth: Doritos cool ranch.

Jason: ...

Jason: I'm just gonna assume zero for now.

(It's the 14th of April) Tim: I love that song.

~~~

Bruce: Hey Jason, do you have any hobbies?

Jason: Swimming...

Bruce: Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to-

Jason: In a pool of self hatred and regret.

#bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #robin #barbara gordon #oracle #batfam shenanigans #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect bat-fam quotes #sleep deprived tim drake

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blouisparadise · 4 months

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There are so many amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of December. We’re entering a new year feeling incredibly grateful for the amazing fics we got in 2023, and excited for the many we’ll get in 2024! Happy reading!

1) Say Yes To Heaven | Mature | 2818 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Ethan Hawke.

Later when he’s back at the apartment with Oli, as Louis is somewhat dreamily waxing poetic about Ethan, Oli interrupts.- “Does he quote Shakespeare when you fuck?” he asks, poking at the sizzling eggs on the stove. Louis’ cheeks turn suspiciously pink. Oli peers at his face. “Oh my god, he DOES. I KNEW IT.” He triumphantly brandishes his spatula in the air.

2) Shut Your Mouth, Baby | Explicit | 3028 words

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

3) Bank Holiday Weekend | Mature | 4135 words

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-two year old omega who doesn’t give a shit. The omega knows his heat is coming up but still decides to attend Reading and Leeds Festival with his nineteen year old alpha co-worker Harry Styles.

4) Walk In Your Rainbow Paradise | Mature | 4151 words

Louis feels emotional after he watched Harry told the interviewer about the fish in his latest music video, leading up to him thinking about their 'secret' relationship throughout the years. Harry comes home to his husband who's feeling pissed off and needy of his comfort and warmth.

5) One | Explicit | 4188 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Tommy Shelby.

When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

6) Dreaming of a Green Christmas | Explicit | 4226 words

Harry opens the wrong package by mistake and finds the sex toy Louis ordered for himself. That's not an opportunity Harry can pass up on.

7) Never Felt More At Home (Then When I'm In Your Arms) | Not Rated | 5361 words

Louis and Harry are on tour with the band when Louis is struck with an unexpected heat. He's always known in the back of his mind there was something between him and his best mate, and when opportunity strikes... well, it hits hard.

8) Cat Got Your Tongue? | Explicit | 5523 words

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry screeches and jumps back in surprise. The man drops the popcorn bowl on the carpet and stands up, raising his hands in surrender, “Hey, it's me.” Harry frowns. He has never seen this man in his life. He stares at the wide blue eyes and… holy shit. There's no way. Harry rephrases his question, “what are you?"

9) I’m So Drunk On You (Baby, You’re All That I Want) | Explicit | 5875 words

A lucid celebration yet of nothing in particular, and it was that he found alluring, begged to make himself a part of. "Come on, H live a little." Louis pleaded without care for the sigh that slipped his lips, for the smile that they both formed were proof enough he'd given in. So giddy within skips toward the centre where they gathered, the smaller carried Harry close behind to join the chaos.

10) Snow At The Beach | Mature | 7885 words

The little Matthew Styles had been throwing objects into his cute omega neighbor's yard only for the adorable blue-eyed boy to come to his house to return them and talk to his father. "I'm starting to believe that he does it on purpose just so he can hug you" Harry appeared behind them and Louis smiled at him. "I wouldn't complain if it were like that"

11) Don’t Let The Fire Die | Explicit | 8850 words

Harry makes a long trip to take back what is his.

12) The Box | Explicit | 8895 words

When the signal comes, Harry dips and slides into the box, settling himself on his back with his knees bent. Louis lifts the side of the box to close it, and as he does so Harry goes to pull his jacket from behind his back a little. The last sight that Louis is presented with before Harry is gone from view is the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen arching his back, with his head thrown upwards, mouth slightly open. And fuck.

13) Touch Me (Like Nobody Else Does) | Mature | 11459 words

The alpha’s grin returned tenfold, deep dimples popping into his cheeks. Holy shit, he has dimples. “No, I don’t mind at all. I know where to find you when I need it back,” he said with a chuckle before leaning back into his seat. Louis let out a small giggle before nodding. “I’ll be sure it gets returned to you…?” He trailed off, one eyebrow raised at the other man. “Harry,” he replied, amusement still shining in his eyes. “And you are?” “Louis,” the omega responded before leaning back into his seat averting his eyes once again. “Thank you, really, for the charger. You’re a lifesaver. I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through without my Netflix.”

14) Cause I’m Really Not Fine At All | Mature | 13679 words

Louis Tomlinson, one of the famous members of One Direction, is involved in a car accident that caused him to have amnesia, wiping all the last five years of his life from the memory. The interesting part is he may not remember that he has a girlfriend now, yet his mind seems to think that he has been in a relationship with one of the members, Harry Styles. Harry is baffled and shocked at the situation that's thrown in his face. He finds himself learning how to be a good boyfriend for Louis. It has to be easy.. 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

15) Roommates | Mature | 18604 words

Louis and Harry are roommates. Harry had put up an ad for a roommate, and Louis moved in. Harry notices that Louis only survives on takeout out, and when he leaves for his shift, he cooks an extra plate of food for Louis with a note.

16) Play By The Rules | Explicit | 21835 words

“Okay,” Harry clears his throat. “Sit on the bed, um, slut.” A beat of silence passes between them as Louis raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You want to try saying that like you mean it?” Harry pouts, jutting out his lower lip. “But I don’t mean it, Lou. I feel like I’m being mean.”

17) You Bring Blue Lights To Dreams | Explicit | 30177 words

A body slid up behind him and he tensed until he realized it was Jailen, “So… Louis’ pretty cool huh?” He whispered so Louis wouldn't hear from the other side of the barn. “I mean yeah,” Harry responded, brows furrowing together before he realized what Jailen was really saying, “Jailen no that’s not- no. Nothing’s going to happen so don’t meddle, I’m serious.” “I’m not doing anything my dear Harold, I cannot control what happens naturally. Come on Harry, I know you’ve been getting restless with the whole finding your soulmate thing, it might be time to just try and put yourself out there for a while.”

18) He's Driving Me Crazy... But... I'm Into It | Explicit | 56219 words

The boys are organising a holiday in France for Louis, and Harry is able to make the trip at the last minute thanks to Niall. While things seem to be off to a bad start between them, it seems that some of the behaviour is just pretend. And of course, Louis is annoying, and Harry is his usual calm self... But the others don't seem to understand Louis' feelings, and that's not something Harry will let pass. If they gain more than friendship, that's just a bonus.

19) Your Eyes Are Tired But Keep Them Open Cause You Wouldn’t Wanna Miss A Thing | Explicit | 137451 words

Louis is an omega in an abusive relationship everyone forced him into; he’s miserable until he meets his favorite student’s uncle, Harry, a gentle alpha with a big heart.

20) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167485 words

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #blp

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iamfitzwilliamdarcy · 11 months

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Thinking about how Kipps is everything an adult supervisor should be and it’s those exact reasons he cannot live with himself being one... this was just supposed to be a post of contrasting block quotes and it’s still mostly that but I added a bit of commentary/context:

“The adult supervisors had zero psychic sensitivity and, since they were mortally afraid of going anywhere near an actual Visitor, never ventured far into a haunted zone. Instead, they hung around on the sidelines, being old and useless.”

- Lucy in The Creeping Shadow

Kipps, meanwhile, during the Guppy escapade:

“The one exception was Kipps, who sat cross-legged in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate and reading a newspaper. He didn’t have sufficient Talents to do psychic exploration.”

(emphasized because he’s actually in the home, none of Lucy’s adult supervisors have ever done that -- also he’s staying out of the way)

Later, he makes an official suggestion in his capacity as Fittes observer, but when the actual psychic kids reject it, he goes along with their plan anyway. Not only that, they’re actively trying to draw out Guppy and Kipps helps:

“Lockwood inserted his crowbar into a narrow space between a countertop and the cupboard below. ‘Kips and I will start,’ he said. ‘The rest of you keep watch” ....After a bit, he moved back and let Kipps take over with the mallet.

And then :

“We have to go and help him, Kipps,” I said. Kipps didn’t seem to have moved since Lockwood had left the room. His face was white. He gathered his wits. “Yes. We must. Come on.”

He doesn’t end up having to do anything because George finds the Source a moment later but he’s willing! He can’t see the ghost but he’s gonna go help Lockwood fight it!

I don’t have my copy of Screaming Staircase with me to double check so I’ll edit this later-- I can’t remember if Lucy asking Jacobs to come into the house and offer advice is in the book or a show addition, but it’s such a contrast!!!

And then, of course, these are all the reasons that Kipps ends up resigning-

“I just had a realization,” he said when we were on the train and rocking slowly through the south London suburbs. “After the Guppy job. I mean, there we were-- in a house possessed by a wicked and powerful entity, and you all were running around like madmen-- fighting, screaming, being fools-- but dealing with it... I was just a fifth wheel. I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t hear it... I was too old to do anything useful. And that’s what being a supervisor is: it’s a life of sending others out to fight and die. I’ve known that for a while, but it took you to make me realize I couldn’t bear to continue with it.... it was probably another dumb decision... like agreeing to come along with you today. Lockwood says he wants my expertise, but I’m not sure what I can contribute aside from standing around like a fence post. Maybe I can make the tea.”

which like wow! The acceptance that he no longer has Talent, that his leadership can no longer continue to the way it used to -- which is exactly what an adult supervisor should do -- be there for input, listen to the psychic kids, advise and support-- it’s what Kipps does !

we very frequently see Kipps actively engaged with his Team in Whispering Skull and Hollow Boy- obviously he has a Prideful streak, he’s pompous and makes mistakes, but we generally see him trust his team and do his best as a Leader. Again, don’t have my copies with me so can’t make the point further in those books, but also remember the reason he falls into hot water with Fittes in the first place is he goes a little rogue-- and the reason for that is because none of DEPRAC or the other Adults know what’s going on with the Chelsea outbreak, and, in the wake of his agent’s death, Kipps doesn’t want to lose anyone else to arbitrary nonsense (there’s something here in direct contrast to Marissa but maybe I’ll expound more in another post) -- instead, he trusts a Talent he actually knows and makes the best choice for his team members

Which is all to say-- Kipps is a good adult supervisor, but the system isn’t made for good adult supervisors

#quill kipps #mostly #creeping shadow #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #This got wildly out of hand lmao #I lost the point somewhere along the way

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ladylooch · 10 months

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ur doing gods work! can you write about nico & the reader crossing paths again after not seeing each other for a long time? <3

Crossing Paths with Nico Hischier

A/N: Ya know, the fan fic won't write it's self ( I know I've tried to convince it), so I'm happy to do it!

Word count: 1.0k

Warnings: lil angsty, swearing

Breaking up with Nico Hischier was the single hardest and most devastating thing you’ve ever done.

You didn’t want to.

But you didn’t see how this was going to work.

You were being promoted to the DC office of your advertising firm. It came with a private office, a huge pay bump, and a whole portfolio of dream clients.

The only thing it wouldn’t come with was your boyfriend.

When you told Nico, he was ecstatic for you. He urged you to take it. He refused to listen to any of the concerns you had because he assumed you would stay together. Every night the month before your move, you agonized in your bed next to Nico while he slept. The logistics were starting to feel too difficult. Nico was sure you would find ways to see each other, but you knew the reality of life in DC was going to monopolize your time. Nico was used to you giving because his jobs took so much.

So you gathered up the courage to sit him down the night before you left and told him your concerns.

“Babe, this distance is going to be nothing for us. It’s temporary too.” The corporate office for your firm is in Manhattan. Nico has latched onto the idea that DC is a stepping stone for you. A temporary fork in the road until yours both meet again.

“Neeks.” You quietly say, squeezing his hand. Nico freezes, sensing where this is going. “I love you, but-“

“No, don’t say it. Don’t do this. Let’s just try and see how it goes.”

“I can’t.” Your voice breaks as you watch the tears fill his eyes. He sucks in a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. His mouth crumples and you feel a piece of your soul die on that brand new leather couch he bought so you would have more room to cuddle together. “I’m so sorry.” You cry as he stands up, dashing his fingers through his hair in despair. He begins to pace before he whirls back towards you.

“You said forever.” Nico spits. “When did you turn into such a liar?”

If your heart had any intact pieces left, they shattered at those words.

Two years later, you’re snapped out of the memory from the building across the street by the barista calling out your name. You’ve moved back to Jersey and are at the local coffee shop in Hoboken you frequented when Nico lived in that building. It’s been so long, you don’t think it’s possible he still lives there anymore. You grab the latte, bringing it over to the station by the window to grab a straw and a lid.

“You know, most people grow out of adding extra sugar into their lattes.” A voice murmurs to your right. You turn, choking on your breath when you see Nico. “But I guess you’re not most people.” You snort out a laugh, eyes squinting excitedly at how good he looks.

“I just can’t quit big sugar. Keeps me employed.” You joke, stepping forward into his stretched out arms and giving him a hug. You both linger together. “Wow, do you still live here?” You point to the building.

“No I moved up a few blocks, but still walk down here from time to time.”

“Best espresso in the city.” You quote him.

“Yeah, still not Switzerland though.”

“Maybe you should open your own shop.”

“You gonna do the advertisement for me?”

“Sure, I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.” He chuckles.

“You look… wow.” He finishes in a whisper, taking in your professional dress, tights and heels. You’re decked out in blacks and reds, like he used to love on you. “My colors.” He would grin before kissing your lips.

Nothing about Nico has changed. He’s still sweet as honey.

“You too. Looks like you put some muscle on. Maybe Luca has finally stopped teasing you about growing into your pro body.”

“No, he’s never going to give that joke up. Not when he can still lift more than me.”

“Well, the work never really ends.” Your phone dings in your hand. You look down, seeing the reminder that you have 15 minutes to get to your client’s office. “I, uh, have to go.” You show him your phone. You could stay here with him for hours, truthfully, even though it wouldn’t be good for your heart. The one that never quite stopped loving him.

“Yeah, me too. I’m on my way to practice.”

“It was really good to see you, Neeks. I still watch Devils games all the time. The team is really turning into a premier contender.” You both walk together towards the door, then outside, pausing on the sidewalk.

“Yeah? You cheer for me?”

“Yeah, but sometimes I cheer more for Jack.”

“He misses you.” He confesses.

“I know; He calls.” Nico closes his eyes with regret, shoving his free hand deep into his jacket pocket. He adjusts his grip on his cup.

“Look… Ah.. I know you gotta go, but I want you to know I’m sorry about the way we left things.”

“Me too. I should have stayed here with you.”

“No. But it would have been nice if you had wanted to try long distance.” He winces after he says it, like he’s worried he crossed some imaginary line on the sidewalk. I slowly nod, stepping backwards towards my destination.

“I’m back in Jersey now.” You’re not sure why you tell him, except that you want him to know you’ll be around. His eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You’re a year ahead of the plan.”

“I had some extra motivation.”

“Money?” He tilts his head, coy smile on his face.

“Yeah. We’ll go with that. I’ll see ya.” You wave. He returns yours, staying rooted to the sidewalk. He’s still there watching you when you turn back around for one more moment.

“Hey Nico.” His brown eyes are curious. “My phone number still works. Ask Jack if you need it again.”

“You gonna answer if I call?”

“Yeah. On the first ring.”

#nico hischier #nico Fischer x reader #nico hischier blurb #New Jersey devils #hockey writing #my writing #nhl fan fiction #writing request

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mycurrent-hyperfixation · 2 years

Text

There’s No Shame In Running: Eddie Munson x Reader (Fix-It Fic) Part I

Summary: Eddie Munson thought that maybe it was okay he was bleeding out in another dimension. That maybe he was meant to die this way after he had finally stood his ground; after he hadn't run away. But then there you were standing above him and he altogether realised that the thought of never seeing your face again completely and utterly terrified him.

Part II

Masterlist

Word Count: 4k

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Eddie Munson x Powered!Reader

Tags: fluff, angst

A/N: Do trailers have bathtubs? Probably not but let us suspend reality for a moment within this fic. I couldn’t stand what the Duffer brothers did to Eddie so I simply rewrote it. Thanks so much for your continued support, it honestly means the world to me! I’m thinking of doing a part 2 for this so let me know if you would want to read it. Lmk if I missed anyone in the taglist as well!

The plan seemed to go to shit quicker than it usually did.

It felt as if Eddie had been by your side only moments before, holding your hand to help you into the bathtub even though you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. He had tried to keep the water warm for you, but after what had felt like hours of stirring the salt in until it finally dissolved, any warmth the water had once possessed was long since gone so that goosebumps instantly lined your skin upon your submersion.

“Sorry,” Eddie said gently, feeling the water briefly. He hadn’t let go of your hand even when you were situated, his calloused skin brushing comfortingly against your own. “I’ll put some more hot water in-”

You placed one hand onto his shoulder as he tried to reach over you to turn the tap on. His eyes turned to meet yours.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “I can’t get too comfortable.”

A soft smile upturned the corners of Eddie’s lips as he leaned back, crouched beside the bathtub. With his gaze fixated upon yours, he leaned his head down so that it was resting on the lid of the tub. You felt like reaching out and brushing his hair back away from his face, and where once there was a time where you would have refrained from doing so, you indulged in the want. There could be no hesitation in the showing of affection when the end of the world was nearing.

Eddie closed his eyes at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, his breathing coming out almost as a sigh as he leaned into your touch. When he reopened his eyes, your breath hitched slightly in your throat at the sight of him, his eyes so big and wide and beautiful as they seemingly stared right through you.

“Come back to me,” you whispered, knowing that your voice would crack if you were to speak any louder.

“Of course, princess,” Eddie whispered back, lifting his head so that his gaze was level with yours. Your right hand was still entwined within his left, your fingers half submerged in the water. With his other hand, Eddie brought his fingers so that they grazed against the skin of your jaw. You leaned into his touch subconsciously.

“If anything happens in there,” Eddie said softly, bringing his hand higher to tap gently at your temple. You smiled. “Promise me you’ll run.”

“There’s no shame in running,” you quoted.

A wide smile spread across Eddie’s lips as he remembered his first encounter with you. The Dungeons and Dragons game when they had been down a player. The finale in an epic month-long campaign. And there you had been, a begrudging participant at best who had been thoroughly confused for the majority of the game and yet had still managed to throw the winning roll.

“And yet you didn’t,” Eddie said. “You never do.”

Hesitantly, Eddie lifted your hand that was grasped within his upwards to his lips. He kissed the skin on the back of your hand gently, the touch so faint that you almost didn’t feel it. The act shocked you, your eyes widening as your breathing quickened. You could feel the heat creep up your neck and invade your cheeks, and whilst you wanted to turn away in slight embarrassment you seemed incapable of tearing your gaze away from Eddie’s.

The air was thick between you; something electric and palpable that made it oddly hard to breathe. You leaned forward, your free arm coming to rest on the lid of the bathtub, the murky water moving around you. Your face was inches from Eddie’s now and you could hear as his breath hitched in his throat at your sudden closeness. But he did not pull away.

His gaze flicked down towards your lips, lingering there before they returned to look back at you.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“Me too,” he breathed back.

And then your lips were on his, but whether it was because you had closed the distance or Eddie had you couldn’t quite tell. The kiss was soft, tentative, slow. It was hesitant and faint and barely there at all. It was beautiful.

Timidly, Eddie let go of your hand and instead brought his hand up to rest upon your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to him whilst his thumb faintly traced along the curve of your jaw. You brought your own hands up to rest upon Eddie’s neck, one inching upwards until it was tangled within his hair. Your chest was pressed up against the bathtub, some water spilling over the side as you moved to try and get closer to him.

The two of took your time, wanting to savour every last inch of each other. Eddie’s touches were tentative, cautious even and yet so clearly filled with a desperation for more. Your lips continued to seek each other out as you became intoxicated by his touch. Eddie could feel his lungs burning and yet he could not seem to pull away for you. For just a moment he thought that if you were to continue to kiss him like this forever, he would be quite happy to die from suffocation if it meant he could continue to feel the touch of your lips against his.

When the two of you pulled away, breathless and panting into the silence of the bathroom, Eddie pulled you back towards him and gently touched his forehead to yours. You closed your eyes, the smell of him completely engulfing you as your arms continued to rest lazily around his neck. And even though the water around you had grown colder, you felt completely warm against Eddie’s touch.

When you reopened your eyes you found Eddie already looking at you, his gaze soft, his lips upturned in a wide smile.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Eddie whispered.

But then before you could respond, the door to the bathroom was opening causing you and Eddie to quickly pull away from each other. Goosebumps returned to your skin.

“Guys, I think we shoul-” Steve began. “Oh…sorry.”

“No, you’re fine,” you responded. “Is it time?”

Steve nodded, his gaze still flicking between you and Eddie. Eddie turned to look back at you.

“I’ll be out in a sec,” he said. Steve nodded and closed the door softly behind him.

“Can you…?” you began, pointing to the bandana that laid at Eddie’s side. It was his, a similar design to the one he had tied around his head.

“Y-yeah, of course,” Eddie said, quickly picking up the bandana as you swivelled in the tub. You tucked your hair over one shoulder to get it out of the way for him, exposing the skin of your neck. Gently, the touch of his fingers so faint it was barely there at all, Eddie brought the bandana to sit around your eyes, tying it at the back. When he was done, you could feel his hands linger upon the skin of your neck, his face inching downwards so that you could feel his breath. With a fleeting touch, Eddie placed a kiss to the curve of your neck. You shivered.

Turning around, you lifted the bandana so that you could see. Eddie was still there sitting beside the tub, his gaze just as spellbinding as it always was. Hesitantly, you leaned forwards and connected your lips briefly to Eddie’s once more. The touch was fleeting and when you pulled away you noticed that Eddie kept his eyes closed for a second longer. When he reopened them, he couldn’t quite wipe the smile from his face.

“On Saturday when this is all over,” Eddie said, your face still inches from his so that his words came out as barely more than a whisper. “I’m going to pick you up at 7 o’clock and I’m going to take you out to dinner.”

“Is this your way of asking me on a date?” you questioned with a smirk.

“Oh, I’m not asking,” Eddie said back, his tone serious yet his smile still fixed upon his lips. “I’m not running away anymore. I like you Y/N. I’ve liked you for a long time and I’ll shout it from the rooftops right now because I refuse to waste another minute where I’m not by your side.”

Although it was physically improbable, you swore that in that moment your heart skipped a beat. And because you did not know what to say, you simply leaned forwards once more and engulfed Eddie within your arms. You burrowed your face into the crook of his neck as his arms came up to wrap around you, a small chuckle leaving his lips. When you pulled away it was unwillingly.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Munson.”

Eddie smiled softly at you.

Your hand reached out and grabbed a hold of his once more as your leaned back in the tub, the salt causing your feet to rise as you brought them out from under you. Eddie continued to hold your hand as you fixed the bandana back in place over your eyes. You gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go, instantly missing the warmth of him by your side. You could hear him shuffling about, and then you could feel the soft press of his lips against your forehead before his footsteps retreated to the door.

“Eddie?”

He stopped, turning around to look at you as he stood in the doorway.

“Come back to me and I’ll let you kiss me like that again.”

A wide smile engulfed his features.

“Yes m’am.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up in your throat.

The door clicked shut.

You took in a deep breath.

And then there was nothing.

---

“If you touch her again, I will kill you,” you said.

You flung Vecna across the room, using all of your strength so that he slammed right into the stands, wooden splinters flying everywhere. You could tell instantly that he wasn’t dead, was barely even scratched, the sheer power that exuded from his presence causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. But for just a moment you allowed your defences to slip as you turned to face Max.

“Oh thank god,” Max said as she saw you, quickly closing the distance between you until she was engulfed within your arms.

“I told you I’d come,” you said, looking down at Max with a reassuring smile.

You hugged Max tightly to your chest, feeling how badly her frame was shaking. When you reopened your eyes and looked up, a gasp left your lips that had Max frantically turning around.

“El?” you said, mouth slightly agape in shock.

She smiled at you and Max before rushing over and joining the hug.

“Are you real?” Max asked, breathless. “D-did I make you?”

“I think she’s doing what I’m doing,” you responded.

“I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer.”

Max furrowed her brows.

“Eddie!”

You whipped your head towards Dustin’s familiar voice but nothing but the decaying setting of the Snow Ball sat around you. Something dropped in the pit of your stomach, something that terrified you.

“Eddie what are you doing?! NO!” Dustin’s voice came again.

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered. Max and Eleven instantly went silent as they turned their attention to you. “Something’s wrong on the outside,” you clarified. “With Dustin and Eddie.”

You looked down at Max, a knowing smile upturning the corners of her lips.

“Go,” she said.

“No, but-”

“Go,” she said, more firmly this time. “I’ll be alright. I have El.” Max linked her arm within the other girls’.

“Y/N,” you could feel Dustin’s hand grip onto your shoulder. “Y/N help, it’s Eddie!”

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” you said, bending down to engulf Max briefly.

You gasped deeply as you flung your body upwards, the water disturbed around you so that some of it spilled out of the tub and onto the floor. Hastily, you brought your hands up to tear off the bandana only to be faced with Dustin staring straight at you. You had never seen him so terrified before, and the sight made you more frightened then you had ever been.

“What is it?” you asked frantically. “Where’s Eddie?”

“T-the bats,” Dustin said, his voice breaking. “There were so many of them and the defences were holding so well but then we didn’t think of the vents and they started coming in and there were too many of them and we couldn’t fight them off and-”

“Dustin,” you interjected his ramblings, trying to keep your voice calm as you clutched onto to his shoulders to ground him. “Where’s Eddie?”

Tears began to well in Dustin’s eyes.

“He wanted to buy more time. H-he cut the rope and-”

You didn’t wait to hear the rest of Dustin’s story. Instead you leapt from the tub, water flying everywhere, as you ran from the bathroom and entered the main living area. Half of the rope lied upon the floor and the sight of it nearly had you crying out in frustration. You turned to look at Dustin who had followed close on your heels. Tears were now freely cascading down his cheeks and the sight of it broke your heart.

“I’m going to get him, Dustin,” you said, reaching out one hand to wipe away his tears. “But you need to help me get up there.”

Dustin nodded, instantly bending down onto one knee without a word. You placed one foot precariously onto his leg, looking down at him one last time before you placed any weight onto him. When his eyes connected with yours, you offered him a reassuring smile before pushing off the floor. You heard Dustin grunt underneath you as he bore your weight, but he did not complain. Swiftly, you placed your other foot onto his shoulder and pushed off, your hands just managing to grip the edges of the portal.

With all your might you pulled yourself upwards, your arms shaking from the struggle. Your ascent was slow, your arms burning from the effort, but then Dustin’s hands came to grasp the bottom of your feet, pushing upwards so that in the end you practically flew through the portal. Your eyes went wide as the other side of the trailer floor came rushing towards you as you barely managed to spin yourself around just enough so that you landed on your feet. You couldn’t help but cry out in pain as the shock from the fall reverberated up your legs, your left ankle stinging particularly badly. You did not allow yourself to dwell on the pain.

For just a moment you glanced up towards Dustin, the sight of him upside-down above you still dizzying. You wasted no time as you headed out in a sprint.

“Wait, how am I supposed to get up?!” Dustin yelled after you.

“You’re not!” you called back as you flung the trailer door open.

The sight of the Upside-Down never failed to send a shiver down your spine, yet you did not hesitate as you leapt from the trailer and began running. You briefly registered for just a moment that you had failed to adorn any shoes, but then the thought was dispelled from your mind at the sight of a thick cloud of bats swarming before you. Your pace stayed constant, the sound of blood pumping in your ears the only thing you could hear. Periodically, as you ran you tried to force the bats away from whatever they were swarming, unable to get a grasp on them due to the distance that still stood between you. Faintly, you registered the pain in your ankle growing.

It was only when you turned down an adjacent street that you saw him; trash can lid wielded as a shield, his makeshift spear gripped tightly in his hand.

“Eddie!” you screamed, upkeeping your murderous pace as your lungs continued to burn.

Eddie didn’t hear you. Instead he continued to face the onslaught of bats, taunting them as he did so. In any other situation you might have laughed, but in that moment you could barely keep your legs from collapsing beneath you.

It was as if time slowed when it happened. All it took was one bat, one missed swing of his shield, and a tentacle was wrapped his neck. You watched on as he fell to the ground, more tentacles instantly grabbing his limbs as Eddie fought back futilely.

A scream left your lips, so guttural and feral that you could feel it ripping at your vocal cords. You continued to run, continued to try and get the bats off of him, but you were still too far away to make much of a difference. When the first bat bit into him a strangled sob left your lips. When the second one followed you felt your heart break slightly.

When you finally got closer—close enough to see the pained look on Eddie’s face and the blood coating his torso—it was like a fire was ignited in your veins. All you could see was Eddie writhing on the floor. All you could hear were his screams echoing around you growing louder and louder until you found yourself wanting to cover your ears with your hands.

When you finally reached him it was as if something primal was released from you. It coursed through your body, building inside of you until it eventually reached your extremities. You screamed as the power shot out from you, so concentrated and so forceful that you could physically see it propel forth from your body. When it made contact with each bat, it was as if something consumed them from within as they shrivelled mid-air before falling to the ground. As they rained down around you, you immediately dropped to the floor from exhaustion.

As you panted—your veins still on fire, your head pounding and your ankle throbbing—your focus was purely on Eddie who still lied motionless on the ground before you. Slowly, you pulled your way towards him, each movement of each muscle instantly igniting a pain within you. But you did not stop, reaching out one hand until you entwined your fingers with Eddie’s, finally hauling yourself up into a kneeling position as you looked down at him.

A sob escaped your throat at the sight of him, tears falling freely down your cheeks.

“Hey there,” Eddie croaked, blood staining the side of his mouth. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to answer as you surveyed his wounds, trying against all hope to get yourself under control. “Come here often?”

Your laugh was somewhere between a snort and a sob.

“Stop making me laugh,” you said. “I need to stop your bleeding.”

In one swift motion you lifted your shirt off, the fabric still wet from the bathtub. You immediately started ripping the fabric into longer pieces before you knelt over Eddie and tried your best to tie it around the deeper bites. Adorned in merely a sports bra, you thought for just a moment that you should have felt embarrassed, yet you could not quite bring yourself to care.

“At least take me on a date first.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on trying to elicit as little pain from Eddie as possible. But you smiled at the joke and that was the only thing that Eddie needed to see in that moment. It was as if with you being there his pain was a little better, his mind a little clearer. With you there, Eddie began to hope that maybe he could get out of this hell after all; that maybe he deserved to get out.

His wounds were bad, several gaping holes having been chewed through his abdomen with large bruises already beginning to form around his neck and his limbs. And whilst the amount of blood he was losing wasn’t ideal, you couldn’t help but think how much worse it could have gotten if you had arrived any later.

Eddie couldn’t help but wince as you tightened the bandages, his wounds stinging so painfully that tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Sorry,” you began. “I’m so sorry.”

But you did not stop until every wound was covered, the blood already having seeped through the fabric. When you were done you finally allowed yourself to look up at Eddie. His eyes were already fixated upon you, his coughing having subsided slightly. You shifted so that you were closer to his head before gently lifting him and placing him in your lap. You ran your hands through his hair, tears continuing to fall from your cheeks.

“Bad, huh?” Eddie questioned.

“I did not leave Max to see you die, Eddie,” you said, your tone serious but your touch soft. “You’re getting out of this place whether you like it or not.”

“Yes, m’am,” Eddie said, his lips upturning into a smile.

“We have to get you to a hospital. I feel pretty weak but I think I can lift you-” you said, outstretching your arms in preparation.

“J-just give me a second,” Eddie coughed out before you had the chance to levitate him.

You lowered your hands, bringing them back to run through Eddie’s hair. He closed his eyes, his breathing becoming more even. When he looked back up at you, tears were welling behind his eyes.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?” he choked out.

You swallowed the sob that threatened to spill from your lips, forcing yourself to nod your head instead.

“You didn’t run,” you said, your voice slightly cracking. “But I have to say, Eddie. I think if there’s any time you should run it’s definitely when you’re being chased by a hoard of murderous bats.”

Eddie let out a laugh that was quickly followed by a series of violent coughs. His smile still lingered on his features.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

He continued to look up at you, his stare so unwavering that it nearly had you sobbing once more. Slowly, Eddie lifted one hand to rub against your cheek, the pad of his calloused thumb running along the length of your jaw. You leaned into the touch, revelling in the warmth that was still there.

“You’re so beautiful,” Eddie breathed. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Munson. But I prefer guys with their blood still inside of them.”

Eddie laughed once more and you could tell that each one was bringing him pain. So instead you removed your hands from his hair and brought them to cup his cheeks. Slowly, so that you could hear Eddie’s breath hitching in his throat, you bent down and connected your lips to his. The kiss was slow, lazy even as the both of you revelled in the other’s touch. He tasted partly of blood and partly of tears that were still trickling down your cheeks, yet you did not care. For he was so close and so warm and so very much alive that you thought for just a moment that you would never be able to tear yourself away from him.

When you pulled away, Eddie whined in protest.

“Let’s get you out of here. We still have a date to get to on Saturday and I’ve just left a little girl with a wrinkly monster.”

“What’s your favourite flower?” Eddie questioned as he looked up at you, his gaze unwavering with his lips slightly upturned into a smile. “You know, for our date.”

“How about you surprise me.”

His eyes slowly began to glaze over as if he couldn’t quite bring anything into focus. Slowly, his eyes began to flutter closed.

“And what’s your verdict on scars?”

“Oh I think they’re super hot.”

“That’s good.”

A wide grin encompassed Eddie’s face just as he passed out.

“Eddie!” came a strangled sob from behind you.

You turned your head around to see Dustin limping towards you.

---

Taglist:

@alicetweven @juggernort @theh3aven @manamitoyota @mimiluvsualot @cherrypieyourface @kaqua @c0untryclub

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #season 4 stranger things #joseph quinn #Joe Quinn #Eddie Munson fluff #steve harrington #dustin henderson #eleven #max mayfield

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its-elioo · 6 months

Text

Incorrect quotes (RnM fanfic related)

Rainbow: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case?

Sideswipe: What?

Rainbow: I want to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Sideswipe: Can we go back to the part where you said “when I get murdered”?

Sunset: I want to be a caterpillar.

Optimus: Explain?

Sunset: Eat a lot, sleep for a while, wake up beautiful.

Optimus: You are aware that they have a lifespan of two to five weeks, correct?

Sunset: That’s another highlight.

Optimus: Sunset, no—

Bumblebee: I’m not mad, I just want to know why you need a fake ID.

Fluttershy: *mumbles*

Bumblebee: What was that?

Fluttershy: …You need to be over 18 at Petco to hold the puppies.

Optimus: You are very mature for your age, Sunset.

Sunset: Thanks, it’s the trauma.

Rainbow: Sibling relationships are weird.

Rainbow: Like, I’d give Sideswipe my life on a dangerous mission without a second thought but there’s no way in hell that I’d give him a single fry from my McDonald’s meal.

Rarity: *hurts herself*

Rarity: SH-oot!

*Knock Out and Sideswipe look at each other in confusion*

Sideswipe: What was that?

Rarity: I don’t swear.

Knock Out: Why not?

Rarity: It’s not ladylike. No well-mannered woman does it.

Rainbow: *walks by in the background and stubs her toe*

Rainbow: FUCK!

Rarity: …most of us anyway.

Twilight: Excuse me, who’s in charge here?

Ratchet: Well, usually whoever yells the loudest.

Rarity: We can’t kill him!

Knock Out: Not with that attitude, we can’t.

Fixit, gesturing to Twilight: Sir, that’s my emotional support human.

Pinkie: You call it a near death experience-

Rainbow: We call it a vibe check from God!

Ratchet: *optic twitches*

Sunset: When I asked if my day could get any worse it was rhetorical question. NOT A CHALLENGE!

Sunset: I stopped a murder today.

Optimus: Good job, Sunset. I’m proud of you. How did you do it?

Sunset, staring seriously and ominously at Optimus: Self-Control.

Bulkhead: What are your superpowers again?

Applejack: Super-strength, agility and stamina, yo mamma jokes-

Bulkhead: Yo mamma jokes?

Applejack: Well Bulk, I’m an orphan so they can’t say anything back.

Bulkhead: Kid—

Ratchet: How would you rate your pain?

Twilight: Zero stars, would not recommend.

Rainbow: Hey, Ratch.

Ratchet: *sighs* Yes?

Rainbow: If you say the words “control alt delete” do you just, like, straight up die?

Ratchet:

Ratchet: Every day I convince myself humans are intelligent life forms and every day I am proven wrong.

Sunset: I’m willing to do a lot of things.

Sunset: But admitting to Optimus that I’m cold after he told me to bring a jacket is not one of them.

Everyone else: Knock Out, no!

Knock Out: Knock Out, yes!

Rarity: Knock Out, no.

Knock Out: Knock Out, no.

Fluttershy: *staring blankly at a wall*

Bumblebee: Fluttershy? What’s wrong?

Fluttershy: Did you know that rap stands for ‘rhyme and poetry’?

Bumblebee:

Bumblebee: *sits down and joins Fluttershy in staring at the wall*

Arcee: You’re okay, right? You’re not hurt?

Twilight: No, no, no, I’m fine! Totally fine, no, no, I’m fine.

Arcee: Really? Because you’re repeating your words you look pale and you look like you’re about to topple over.

Twilight: Yeah, you might wanna catch me.

Twilight: [holds up a cauliflower in front of Ratchet] What is this?

Ratchet: … a cauliflower?

Twilight: [turns to Pinkie and Smokescreen] Okay, now tell him what you think it is.

Both: Ghost broccoli!

Rainbow: I’m ten times funnier than you.

Sideswipe: Ten times zero is still zero.

Rainbow: Well, jokes on you, I can’t do math.

Arcee: You’re up early this morning.

Twilight: …

Arcee: You never went to sleep, did you?

Rainbow: You’re an attention-seeker.

Sideswipe: What?! I’m the total opposite of an attention-seeker. I’m the best there ever is, I do not- hey, don’t look away when I’m talking here!

Knock Out: Do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you!

Knock Out: Please ask me to kill for you.

Rarity: …First of all, calm down.

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ironspiderfics · 10 months

Text

tick tock

by @iron--spider for @savvysass

And Peter stares at him, watching the panic seep into his shoulders.

“Why did you come to me first?” Ned stammers. “Me, I mean, I can’t do anything—I mean, I can say it sucks, and that doesn’t help—”

Peter leans back against Ned’s pillows, clearing his throat. He’s going for nonchalance. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.

But sometimes there’s something that’s nagging at him and he knows logically it’s nagging at him because it’s important, but he downplays that nag because he thinks he’s being paranoid or he thinks he can handle it. Maybe it’s both of those things at the same time.

But he mentioned his problem anyway, because of course he did, and Ned has been standing frozen in front of him since, like he got struck by lightning.

“It’s fine,” Peter says, his voice going a little high, but not enough to give him away. He clears his throat again. Nonchalance. “Do you have any of the tamales still?”

Ned’s brows furrow, like he’s primed and ready for an argument. “You are the only—the only person in the known universe who climbs through my bedroom window and tells me he’s been poisoned and then says it’s fine and asks for tamales.”

“You know I like them so much,” Peter says, shrugging at him. “That’s why we got so many, and I already ate the ones I had stashed—”

“Peter!” Ned yells, drawing out the word like a wiggling worm. “Poisoned?”

“It’s fine,” Peter shrugs again, and he swallows hard, and he mostly believes that. His head hurts, but that’s normal after a fight. Rattling his brain around.

It’s all normal. It’s fine.

The room isn’t shimmering at the corners. No way.

“Peter.”

He keys back in. “That guy…is a weirdo,” Peter laughs, and Ned takes two steps closer to him, still poised, eyes still wide under a stern, furrowed brow.

He analyzes him, like he’s looking for something Peter’s hiding. “All of the dudes you fight are?” he says. Asks. It’s a statement phrased like a question. “Which one was it? You could be referring to any of them?”

“The guy who thinks he’s a snake,” Peter says. He winces. “No. A scorpion.”

“Worse,” Ned says. “And what exactly did he say? Did you know you’re bleeding?” He’s getting worked up, and his cheek spasms a little bit. “You’re trying to be too casual I don’t trust you right now you’re doing that thing where you’re under—you’re under—I’m gonna tell Tony I’m gonna tell May and MJ—”

“Ned!” Peter yells, scrambling off the bed and reaching him before he grabs his phone from the desk. He holds onto his arms, and Ned is still looking at him like he’s grown another head. “It’s fine. I swear. I was just…telling you…the events, I was close to your house and I thought I’d tell you the events of my, uh, night, my patrol—how was your night, did you get to that episode of Survivor where—”

“What exactly did this guy say to you?” Ned asks, slowly. “Like, in words. His words.”

Peter swallows hard. “Well, uh, we were fighting, and he—he ‘poisoned’ me, right?” He uses air quotes.

Ned glares at him.

“And he said we were gonna play a game—”

“Bad—”

“And he said, uh, if I couldn’t find the antidote in three days that I’d, uh. Die.”

Die. DIE. It lands like an anvil.

Ned gives him a piercing look.

“That’s everything he said? Those were the words—that’s it? No clues no map no—three days—three days is nothing—that’s not—that’s not even four days—when does it start does it start at like midnight or the second you—”

Peter clears his throat again. He needs to refocus.

He feels like the walls are moving—no. Not happening. He’s fine.

He shakes his head. He wishes he hadn’t mentioned it at all, but here he is. “Ned, that—I mean, this is normal.”

Ned scoffs. “Norm—”

“This is just something that happens. Spider-Man gig. He’s—this is part of the rapport.”

“Rappo—Peter what if you start dying? What if you can’t find him? What if you find him and he won’t give you the antidote? What then? What if there is no antidote? There isn’t enough time—”

“There’s probably not even a poison,” Peter says, shrugging again. Brushing it off. Being normal. Managing the situation.

Ned pauses for a second. Then his eyes bulge. “Probably?”

Peter gets this shit all the time. Every day, it’s some guy in a weirdo costume telling him they’re gonna kill him or he’s gonna drown tomorrow at noon or they’re gonna take his powers away or they’re gonna launch him into the sun, and none of those things have ever happened. And this guy, this Scorpion has threatened to poison him dozens of times—it’s his deal, it’s his thing, since he showed up a few months after the world ended, and he’s never good at it. He said he was gonna poison Harlem’s water supply and that didn’t happen, despite days of monitoring. He said he’d poisoned the mayor’s family and that they’d die in five days and they’re currently vacationing in Kokomo. He’s even said he’d poisoned Peter before and that his skin was gonna fall off and that never happened.

Tony has always told him to take threats seriously from everyone that threatens him, even if they sound stupid. But when it winds up being a lie or a fluke, over and over—

The only thing that’s worrying him is that this guy did get him with his stupid stinger this time.

He had a better costume, one that didn’t look like it came from the November discount at Spirit Halloween. And it was a knockdown dragout fight, because he was threatening to poison this bank manager to steal his codes, blah blah, bad guy shit, but then he got Peter in the shoulder with his stinger and he seemed surprised that he got him and that’s when he said what he said and he did what he does best: disappear. Peter can usually find these guys, and he actually got a few of them and their gangs locked up. But this asshole falls off the grid really easily, and doesn’t leave much behind. Peter doesn’t even know his real name.

And Peter’s shoulder is pulsing. But only a little bit.

So he’s just—he’s not concerned. Maybe slightly. But not really.

He’s just got a headache. He feels fine.

He’s fine.

He manages to convince Ned that he doesn’t need to tell anybody, and they bandage up the things that need bandaging, including the spot where Scorpion got him, which is only a little green and angry, not nearly as bad as Peter was imagining. Ned huffs and puffs at it, but he doesn’t try to restart the argument. And then they share tamales and Peter goes home.

“You okay?” May asks him, when he kisses her cheek before bed.

“Yep,” Peter says, smiling, and nodding at her, because he is.

He feels fine. He texted MJ that he was fine, even though that seemed to make her suspicious, but she’s always suspicious of him even though they’re together now. She’s paranoid.

The ceiling is absolutely not slowly lowering. It’s just the light being weird that’s it nothing more than that—

May gives him a look, similar to the look Ned gave him earlier. “You sure?” she pushes. “Look a little…peaky.”

He shakes his head.

Only a little dizzy.

Three days…

“I’m fine. I just had seven tamales. I’m fine.”

“Boss,” Friday says, pulling Tony out of a dream. “You have an incoming call from Ned Leeds.”

Tony groans, and opens his eyes.

It’s Saturday.

Ten in the morning.

He glances to the side. Pepper is already gone, and he’s gotta check the calendar for the where-to, and he clears his throat and rubs his eyes.

A call from Ned usually means trouble.

He closes his eyes, and grapples for his earpiece on the bedside table, and Friday indicates for his heart rate with a polite little trill. He ignores it, and tries not to jump to conclusions about Peter or the call, and he taps on the earpiece and answers.

“—no, it’s okay. No, I don’t need anymore, Lola, I’m full—”

“Nedjamin?”

“Mr. Stark?” Ned nearly yells. “Is that you?”

“Well, this is my number,” Tony says, rubbing his face. “As you know, or you wouldn’t be calling—”

“Sorry, I—I’m always shocked that you actually answer. Like even your personal lines must have somebody to like screen calls for you—”

“You’re on the list,” Tony says, and he can hear Ned’s little gasp—the same little gasp he always gasps when Tony says that. “What’s the problem, where’s the fire? What’s Pete done now?”

“Listen,” Ned says, and suddenly he’s whispering. “I don’t know when to take him seriously. But last night he showed up here and he was being all nonchalant and shifty about some scorpion bad guy poisoning him and telling him they were playing a game and that he had three days to find the antidote or he’d die.”

Tony’s eyes snap open.

“He was just saying it was fine and he was probably not even poisoned and like he was a little beat up but not more than normal, you know, his normal amount of—either way, he’s not taking it seriously and he’s not telling you and three days is not a lot of time—like, it’s not even four days—”

“Mmkay,” Tony says, sitting up, feeling like someone’s lit a fire under his ass. “Okay. I’m gonna go get him. I’m gonna handle it.” He stands up, knees creaking, and worry is already coursing through his veins.

“He’s gonna be mad at me for telling you but it’s for his own good,” Ned says. “Three days is not a lot of time, like—to handle something like this—even if it’s fake I mean—”

“Even if it’s fake, you did the right thing,” Tony says, grabbing a gray shirt and some sweatpants. “Always better to check it out.” He sucks in a big breath, trying to focus. “Friday. Get me a lead on Peter.”

And it’s never Tony’s favorite, when Peter isn’t where he’s supposed to be.

And Tony can’t exactly say the kid is supposed to be somewhere in particular—it’s the summer time, he’s been dealt a raw hand with all the end of the world bullshit, and he’s a good kid despite Spider-Man —and not that Spider-Man makes him bad, exactly the opposite, but it…sends waves of danger into his life on a daily basis that Tony wishes he could wash away a lot better than he does.

So when Tony can’t find Peter at home, he tries not to—go off the deep end.

It’s probably fine. Peter’s had a lot of close calls that weren’t close calls at all—the type of dickheads he encounters lie a lot, to try and puff themselves up, but Tony worries that’s made the kid complacent. He himself brushes things off far too often, and he’ll wind up kidnapped or thrown in a ditch or lost on an island because he didn’t take something seriously.

Three days

When did that timeclock start

Ned was right to be concerned—

“It’s fine,” he breathes, driving around in New York’s torture tactic they call traffic, “it’s fine—it’s fine—”

He thinks of a ticking clock, thinks of three days and how that’s not a lot of time and how many times Ned repeated that, thinks that this guy could very easily be telling the truth and it could be a slow-acting poison that doesn’t even kill Pete until the last possible second, and it’s not even a week, it’s three days, and it’s less than that now because Peter decided not to call him immediately, decided to terrorize Ned instead, and tick tock, goes the clock, and Tony hasn’t even seen him yet—

“Friday,” Tony says, his voice strung-out with anxiety, “are you—”

“Boss, I was about to cut in,” Friday says, “Spider-Man is three blocks away in an apartment that does not belong to him. He broke in and he is in distress.”

Tony sucks in a breath, his eye twitching. “An apartment—dist—am I going in the right direction—”

“Yes,” Friday says, sounding too goddamn calm, even for an AI, and she trills again, for his heart rate. “I will let you know where to park.”

Tony is incapable of relaxing. It isn’t the time to relax. Nobody’s telling him to but he always feels like people are telling him to, he’s heard it so many times in his life.

The only saving grace in this situation is that the goddamn owner of the apartment isn’t home, and Peter is too savvy to let the alarm go off to alert anybody, and Tony doesn’t know why the hell he’s here why here why now does he know these people did something happen here and of course he doesn’t know why he hasn’t seen him he hasn’t gotten to talk to him yet—

And he can picture it now—SPIDER-MAN CHOOSES A LIFE OF CRIME, MORE AT 11—

“Kid,” Tony breathes, and he tries not to touch anything as he slinks inside the open door like an accomplice to a robbery, “kid—”

“TONY!”

Peter screams his name, booming and loud, louder than he’s ever sounded before. And Tony hears him before he sees him, and he staggers back and shuts the door when he hits it, and he clutches at his chest and Friday trills twice for his heart rate, a little more urgently.

And Peter is standing there in the middle of this plush, eggshell-white Central Park view.

And he doesn’t look good.

He’s pale as a sheet, his eyes bloodshot, and it looks like there’s throw-up on the front of his suit. His hair’s a mess, and his breathing is hard and wheezy.

“Don’t move,” Peter says. “Just stay right there. Stay on—on that spot right there that spot is uncompromised.”

Tony stares at him. “Uncomp—Pete, we gotta go, we can’t—we don’t know this apartment, we weren’t invited here.”

“How do you know?” Peter asks, looking at him incredulously.

“Well, were you?” Tony asks, mouth agape, feeling like the stupidest person in the world.

“This place was pulsing,” Peter says, too fast, all manic. “It was ready for liftoff, okay? That’s why I’m here but now there’s a problem. There’s a problem with the floor and it burned me three times. They say fool you once, uh fool you twice but three times, so… the whole apartment is a problem. The whole thing, I could see it from the outside and it might have fallen so…I had to go up. Here. Up here.”

This isn’t good. This isn’t good. Tony stares at him and he can feel the very very not good hanging all over the room in tendrils. “Kid, you’re not making any sense at all, okay? Can you—can you just…slow down a little bit and—”

“It’s too windy,” Peter says, shaking his head. He looks at him, sort of—looks through him, and then he focuses on him again. “Okay. Break. Team, uh—Tony. We can’t fix it now. We just need to abort, okay, just—spider, uh—spiderweb on out of here—you need to—listen, we can jump off the roof. That might be the right—the right, uh—”

“Okay,” Tony says, more concerned with every new word that leaves his mouth. “Okay, Pete, I’m gonna come over there—”

“No no no don’t move!” Peter yells, his hands outstretched in Tony’s direction.

“What?” Tony shouts, his heart slamming in his ears. “Peter.”

Peter stares down at Tony’s feet. “It’s gonna get you. It’s going to—it’s gonna start eating you like it’s been eating me.”

And Tony knew, when Peter started talking, but in that moment he really knows, like a ding ding ding game show buzzer. It sinks in his gut.

This is the poison’s fault.

And he’s stupid he’s so stupid, and suddenly it’s blindingly real and not at all a false alarm, it’s the ticking time clock in his head that he’d been tamping down on the way over here. It’s ticking, sand is running down, and it’s a race now.

A race to save him.

Too short. Not even a race. A fucking thousand yard hurdle.

Will he really die if they can’t—can Tony figure this out on his own—who the hell does he have to call who should he get—they’ve never been able to track down this scorpion asshole before and why is this gonna be any different—

He’s wasting time—

Focus, for him—

“Pete—”

“It’s like acid like a river of acid it’s everywhere,” Peter says. “You’re gonna. Just. We have to like, leapfrog—maybe I can carry you on my back—”

“Look, it’s gone,” Tony says, gesturing to the ground. “Not there, gone. Just floor.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “No, it’s still there—Tony Tony Tony—”

And he’s freaking out because Tony is walking towards him now, through—whatever LSD trip awfulness he’s imagining, and he’s gasping and gripping his hair and he reaches out and tugs him towards him when he’s close enough.

“Okay, I don’t know how you did that,” Peter says, and his eyes are wild and a little glazed. “Did it get you? It’s green. It got me, it’s some sort of—acid, acid—you’re not even in the suit, you’re—”

“Pete,” Tony says again, getting more desperate—and he holds Peter by the shoulders—

“My legs are burning, this stuff, this is stuff—it’s everywhere—are you okay?” Peter asks, breathing hard. “It—you walked right through it—we’re in trouble, we’re—”

“You’re hallucinating,” Tony says, trying to hold his gaze. “You got poisoned, and you tried to brush it off, and it’s here to kick your ass.” Too harsh, but it’s out already.

He doesn’t mention anything about three days. He doesn’t mention anything about death.

Peter’s eyes cut to the side. “No, it’s, uh—it’s real. The apartment was—and now there’s—green acid, like an entire—like it’s an ocean of green acid in here and probably outside too and it’s consuming—and it’s in here it’s like—when water comes in during a hurricane—not that I’ve ever been in—but May had that one unlucky vacation in Florida—”

“Listen,” Tony says, because he can hear the tick tock in his head. He has to get him to focus. “Listen, do you trust me? Pete, can you—”

Peter stares at him. “I think the green acid ate Ned,” he whispers, tearing up.

Tony heaves a sigh. Tick tock. “Buddy, close your eyes, and hold my hand, okay? Hold my hand, hold onto my shoulder with your other hand, and close your eyes. I have a way out.”

Peter’s eyes only go wider. “You have a way out but I can’t see it?” he whispers.

“That’s right,” Tony says, swallowing hard. “Just…trust me, okay, just—let’s go, we gotta get out of here.”

Peter stares at him for what feels like an age, and tick tock tick tock, and then he grabs Tony’s hand and latches onto his shoulder and closes his eyes.

“Okay,” Tony says, squeezing his hand a couple times as he maneuvers towards the front door. “Okay, we are—skimming over the, uh, the surface—we are walking on water—”

“Acid—”

“Acid, but it’s fine—”

He has Peter keep his eyes closed until they’re out of the building, and his heart is hammering in his ears.

Friday trills. Tony ignores.

Peter isn’t wearing his mask and he’s got the rest of the suit on and there are people around and goddamnit. Tony holds onto him and ushers him into the car and hopes he isn’t drawing too much attention.

Peter sits like he’s frozen solid, and Tony runs red lights.

Tick. Tock.

Peter grits his teeth. He’s antsy. “Are you not concerned about the roof being gone?” he asks, his voice wavering. “Because those things are…they’re all over the car, the things with the antenna and the beady eyes and the little stingers—”

“Peter,” Tony says, swerving around a slow driver in front of him, “I don’t know whether to play into this and pretend but I guess—I’m—kid, you have been poisoned by that dickhead, that scorpion guy. He poisoned you, and he—he put—” a time limit on it and you’re gonna die if I don’t fucking find his ass or synthesize a cure—

And you didn’t tell me you should have told me but I’m not gonna give you shit for it right now while you’re actively dying—

“Who?” Peter nearly yells, and he reaches up and bangs on the roof. “Tony, Tony, it’s phasing in and out now—does that mean—are we gonna quantum leap—like that show—”

“Pete, it’s not,” Tony says, reaching over and grabbing his arm and trying to keep his eye on the road. “None of these things are happening that you think—Peter—”

“I think there’s one on your—far shoulder,” Peter says, holding onto Tony’s arm. “A big one, he looks—he’s got plans, Tony—”

Tony has to pull to a stop at the next red light, and he sighs and holds onto Peter’s arm. “Kid, can you hear me? Can the logical part of your brain break through the fog and hear what I’m saying?” His voice wavers with the worry that’s trying to rise to the surface.

Peter just holds onto his arm and stares at him. His eyes are bulging out of his head and he’s clinging onto Tony’s arm like it’s his last lifetime. There’s sweat gathering on his forehead and in his hair and he looks like he’s getting paler.

Somebody honks behind them and Tony sighs, putting on the gas, still holding onto Peter’s arm.

“Tony,” Peter breathes. “I think one of them just climbed inside your ear.”

Tony puts on an actual timeclock when they get back to the new facility, and he calls Ned to get the right timing on it. Currently, he’s got two days, five hours, and fifty-three minutes.

“What is it?” May asks, over Tony’s shoulder. “Do you know what it is yet?”

Tony shakes his head. He’s still going over Peter’s bloodwork, and Helen is doing the same in her lab. He can see the tests she’s running on the screen, and they’re both cross-referencing with every known poison and every run-in any of them have had with something like this. It isn’t often that Tony gets poisoned, with his suit of choice. He wishes Peter would wear the goddamn iron spider more often.

He wishes he could keep this shit from ever happening in the first place, to any of his team and his friends but to Peter especially, but what is he gonna do? He can’t swing around in a steel box, or in a bubble, like that movie—

Tony rests his elbows on the table and rubs his eyes. He feels that pressure all over him, like he always does when Peter is in danger, but this one is different. He doesn’t think he’s been—on a time clock, with Peter’s death at the end of it.

Peter’s death, last breath, eyes going glassy—

No, no—

It sends chills down the back of Tony’s neck, it makes him feel like he’s gonna throw up—

Tick tock—

It was bad enough the first time and that wasn’t even a proper death—this would be, this could be bloody and gasping and—

“How’s he doing?” Tony asks, spinning his chair around and looking at May. He tries to keep the horrors out of his eyes.

“Um, not great,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “It seems to be just—getting worse. He still thinks there’s water rising in the room and that he’s trapped and he still thinks the ‘acid’ earlier burned up his legs, but you know that—”

“Nothing there,” Tony says, clawing at his own throat a little bit, anxiety choking him.

He cracks his jaw and blows out a breath and glances up into Peter’s room. The kid is still pacing, and he’s in there with MJ and Ned, talking close to their faces, all wild-eyed and gesturing, pulling his IV pole around. He already sweat through his shirt and he’s hardly retaining any fluids. None of the trial antidotes they’ve got lying around have worked. None of the preventative measures have prevented shit. Peter’s been rambling about someone having cloned the Avengers years ago, and how the floor keeps rumbling because there’s going to be an earthquake in the building. He keeps lifting MJ up and putting her on the bed because he thinks there’s a monitor lizard trying to eat her.

And the original wound on his shoulder is full of pus and bruised, black in some spots. They’re trying to treat that too, even though Peter barely recognizes Helen and her team when they come into his room. He always squares up, like he needs to fight them.

“This isn’t a fair game,” May says, with venom, watching Peter. She wipes her eyes and looks at Tony again, like it’s too hard to keep focusing on the problem. “But I guess we can’t expect fairness from people who want to…hurt others.”

“I’m gonna fix it,” Tony croaks, because he’s getting teary-eyed now, too, and he turns around and faces the computer and sets up the new ingredient trials. He’s still got a bunch he needs to test, it’s fine, they’re out there looking for this asshole in teams, it’s fine, he wishes he was out there looking too and that’s not fine, and if Peter was right about the clones Tony would leave his clone here and he’d be out there searching and they’d swap—

“I’m gonna fix it,” he says again, eyes cutting over to the time clock.

It’s not enough time it’s not enough time it’s not it’s—

Peter is—

The world floats and—

Of course it floats, and no, it’s not floating, it’s gravity, stupid, and—

He’s walking down the hallway one minute MINUTE HEY LISTEN YOU’RE and he’s dragging something along with him one minute and HE SAID THREE DAYS STOP LETTING IT TAKE and then the next his arm is bloody and he leans against the wall and he falls into the next room because there are no more walls and—

He braces his hand on the tile and the tile crunches into wet sand and his hand presses into it an imprint hand and footprint Hollywood Humphrey Bogart and Ben saying he had big hands for a tiny guy huh

And then there’s the monitor lizard again. Hissing and rampaging towards him.

“Stop,” Peter says, pointing at him. “She’s not here she’s—”

Then he’s in bed again. And there’s Tony. And there’s a big fire flames in the corner licking at the wallpaper and it's hot on Peter’s face and trying to singe Tony’s hair. It’s so hot it’s blue. It’s so hot it’s burning Peter’s eyes out of his head.

“This is the third time,” Tony says, and his voice is echoes, inside one of those water tubes, water spouts? Itsy bitsy spider? “No more getting up and roaming the halls, Pete, please, okay? Jesus, and stop taking out your—”

The fire gets really big before Peter can even say anything about it and it explodes in a big fireball and tries to consume the entire room, and Peter grabs Tony and tries to cover his head and hide his own face at the same time and—

“Buddy, buddy, relax, relax—”

But Peter can barely hear him above the explosions and it’s hot it’s burning it’s all over—

He groans, screwing his eyes shut, and how’s he supposed to fight fire? “It’s burning it’s—we have to get out we have to—”

“Nothing’s burning, it’s in your head, it’s in your head,” Tony says, and he’s ruffling Peter’s hair, a gentle feeling amongst all this big and bad and fire, and he’s squeezing Peter’s shoulder and then water—water is trickling out of the walls. Peter can see it over Tony’s shoulder.

“It’s in your head, okay?” Tony says, softly, and when he pulls back he phases a bit. In and out. On top of himself like a copy. Like a bad copy like when Peter used the copier at May’s work for his NYC transit project and it spit it out all inky and Peter covers his eyes with his hand.

“We can’t stop it,” he breathes, breathes, is he breathing still—

“Lemme try this one,” Tony says, and he’s still gentle, voice calm waves. “This should help, okay? We’re trying the natural steroid with the anti-toxin—it should—it should work—if the tests—if I know anything at all—”

And the room changes again.

Tony isn’t there and the room is smaller, the walls are trying to. Trash compactor. Rectangular and square and there are windows and they move and they morph and he can see the green acid is still outside and it’s rising out there, and that means people are dying, that means—it burned Peter and he’s—he’s who he is, with them they’d be burning—burning alive—

“It should have worked,” Tony’s voice, but he’s not in here. Is he in the walls? Are they squashing him? “It should have, goddamnit—”

“It’s close, everything improved there for about twenty—”

“He was practically catatonic and now he’s worse again—has Sam updated you yet, Helen, because I think he’s afraid to tell me he hasn’t found anything—I gotta fucking get out there—Happy’s out there driving around and Pepper is too and I’m fucking useless—”

“TICK TOCK,” a voice says.

A bad voice. Sounds like a stereotypical New Jersey background actor but this one Peter knows, and then he spins around on the spot and all the windows go and then the room shrinks and it shrinks fast fast fast fast too fast a not-fun funhouse and he can’t even try to stop it and he throws his arms out but the walls crush him into something small—

“FUN GAME, HUH, SPIDER? CLOCK IS TICKING DOWN. THEN I WIN.”

Peter is running—

—but there’s nothing, there’s nothing it’s blackness and echoes and nothing anywhere, except when he steps on something it zaps him, like a taser, and it makes him tremble and his face sags and the aftershocks run through him and he feels off course, and he tries to run in the opposite direction but what’s the opposite direction in a void and he’s zapped again, and he tries to go—a couple steps back and—it’s so dark he can’t see and when he tries to yell nothing comes out, nothing, and he grabs at his own throat and tries to pull his voice out and—

A full body zap and he collapses, seizing—

In the room again.

In the bed.

Handcuffed, to the bed. Soft straps, around his wrists and his ankles, connecting to the bars of the bed.

“How the hell did he even get in that room?”

“God, I don’t know—how does he get anywhere—”

Tony and May are on either side of him, and the acid is in the room again. They’re sitting on the bed so they’re out of the way of it but it’s rising, and Peter swallows hard, peering down at it.

“I can get out of these,” Peter says, and he tries to concentrate and break them, and it’s usually so easy, it’s usually very easy, and he breathes hard, watching the acid break and splash against the wall. It eats away at it. “Tony, May, why would you—”

“You keep getting up and hurting yourself,” May says, and she sniffles, and she—her face is in darkness. He can’t see her face. “You don’t have much time and you keep—”

“May—”

Tony’s voice, but he can’t see his face either, they’re both, they’re—their faces, they don’t have faces they don’t have faces no eyes nose mouth nothing nothing—

He closes his eyes and keeps rattling the handcuffs. Why aren’t they breaking? Why aren’t they?

“You’re weak right now,” Tony says, and Peter squeezes his eyes shut because he can’t—he can’t look he can’t—

“We didn’t wanna do it, Peter,” Tony says, feeling shame, watching him thrash around.

And if this was normal, he’d try to convince him to stay still, to stop getting up and breaking into storage rooms and labs and they’d take them off, but he’s—he’s barely in there. Barely lodged in his own head. The hallucinations are too strong and they barely have a day left. They haven’t found Scorpion and they haven’t figured it out themselves—

And is Peter going to die like this? Wasting away, handcuffed to the medbay bed by two of the people who love him most?

He’ll uncuff him if he’s dying and what kind of thing is that to fucking say what kind of thing is that to even think to even fathom—

A wave of horror goes through Tony’s entire body and he reaches for the right cuff—

“Tony, he’ll be out in five seconds flat,” May says.

“Not if we’re in here—”

“We were in here before and he got past us—”

“Please, Tony,” Peter says, and he’s still trying to break them, and he just might, if he keeps trying. Not all of his strength is gone. Not yet.

Peter’s eyes are teary and pleading, and he looks so pale, so tired. “Please, the acid is—it’s rising and if I’m cuffed here I’ll—you guys can get out but if you leave me cuffed here it’ll—it’ll burn it’ll kill me—”

Tony feels insane. He can’t take this. He leans forward, holding Peter’s shoulder with one hand and cupping his face with the other. “Listen,” he says, and Peter is looking at him, but that hasn’t meant much, since this started. “Listen. There’s no acid. You’ve been poisoned, and you’re dying, Pete, you’re dying. We’re trying to help but we—we…” His voice gets caught again and he shakes his head, but Peter is still looking at him.

He doesn’t wanna say that out loud he doesn’t want to acknowledge it because it can’t be true it can’t—

“It was Scorpion,” May says, and she’s rubbing Peter’s left arm up and down. “If you know, anywhere inside you, baby, if you know where he might be—anything, any possibility—”

“May, you gotta let me go,” Peter says, and he shakes them both off, thrashing harder. “The acid, the acid, I’m gonna drown—I gotta—”

Tony gets up, turning around and covering his face with his hand. He can’t stand it. He can’t fucking stand it. He’s shaking and he feels like he’s gonna pass out.

“Peter, baby, please,” May whispers.

“May, please let me go,” Peter pleads. “Please, please, the acid—”

“I’m gonna go fly around,” Tony says, dizzy and sick, the time ticking away in his head. “I’m gonna go—search for myself.”

“Tony,” May calls, but he doesn’t look back.

The acid is licking at the edges of the bed now, splashing up onto Peter’s legs and burning him. Peter sobs and grits his teeth and keeps trying, keeps trying, thrashing and wearing rug burns onto his wrists and ankles and maybe this wasn’t Tony, maybe this was the clone, and the acid is rising up and rising up and Peter tries to hold his arms up as much as he can and the windows are back and swapping around on the walls like bad Tetris and he’s about to yell out for May when—

Scorpion. Big Scorpion. In the corner of the room.

Laughing at him.

And the acid seems to cling to him when he moves. Like a neon sign.

And after six hours of looking all over God’s green earth, after watching Peter’s time dwindle to just under a day, May calls to tell Tony that Peter is gone.

“Gone?” Tony screams, nearly crashing into One Vanderbilt.

“Not dead,” she says, and the crying doesn’t help. “But gone, he—broke out of the cuffs when I went to get him something to eat. He was really bad off, it was getting—so bad, and I left and I wasn’t gone for long and he just—now we can’t—everyone is looking, everything is activated—”

“Friday,” Tony stammers, and she confirms by throwing it all up on the screen.

May gasps and tries to keep talking. “He—doesn’t have a suit, we didn’t—see him take one, and there’s not—no tracking, but we’re—”

“I’ll find him,” Tony breathes, changing his trajectory.

And it feels like another lie.

He couldn’t come up with an antidote. He couldn’t find Scorpion. He couldn’t even make Peter comfortable, couldn’t soothe him, couldn’t counteract anything, and worse yet the last thing he did before he left was handcuff Peter to the bed, a severe breach of trust no matter what the hell’s going on, and he shouldn’t have done it, he shouldn’t have, he should have just kept chasing him down, bringing him back, but he was going into other rooms and electrocuting himself on old machines, for God’s sake—

And Tony searches and searches and he doesn’t even register the time until the clock runs out.

The clock runs out.

It runs out, all zeroes, and Tony is in the air in Queens and everyone else is scattered and the time runs out. The three days, they ran together like watercolor, like broken glass in the trash bin, and it’s over and it’s done and he’s—he’s—

He’s not in front of them, so they don’t know.

Tony gets a few calls, but he ignores them, setting his jaw and trying not to cry.

He can’t be dead he can’t be he can’t be—

They’d send messages if they’d found Peter, if they’d—

Tony keeps searching. He can’t breathe but he keeps searching.

“Friday, take that shit off the screen,” Tony rasps, trying to see through his tears.

The zeroes disappear.

And Peter doesn’t come home.

Tony doesn’t like the phrase ‘presumed dead’, and yet, somehow, the news starts splashing it across their headlines about seven hours after the time clock runs out.

SPIDER-MAN PRESUMED DEAD, and it’s everywhere, on all the networks, to the point where reporters start showing up at Stark facilities, including their new home base. And Tony doesn’t understand why, or what the fuck happened, and he hasn’t eaten and he hasn’t gone back and he hasn’t stopped looking, so what the hell do they know that he doesn’t?

“Nothing,” Rhodey says, on the phone. “They don’t know anything, Pepper and I interrogated Don at CNN and he just got a tip, a bunch of them did, but they don’t know anything for real.”

“They don’t have any actual information?”

“Just a story,” Rhodey says. “No sightings, no anything, I don’t know why they’re taking it seriously. Pepper is with May, she’s—not dealing with any of this well, and I know you’re not either, so you need to—you should come home, just for a little bit, okay? Just to eat, just to see us, and then—”

“No, I gotta keep looking,” Tony says, continuing his scans and sweeps of the street. He’s sure Iron Man’s presence in the sky isn’t doing them any favors in terms of the story.

And what is he looking for? A dead body? A miracle?

“Tony.”

“Rhodey, I gotta keep—I gotta keep looking.”

And he does, and he doesn’t find anything. He essentially starts going door to door and he doesn’t fucking find anything. He shakes Electro out of his cave and he doesn’t know shit, he finds that rat gang of assholes and they don’t know anything either.

And Tony comes home after a day and a half and nearly passes out. From not eating, from exhaustion, from grief, from too many zeroes and too much silence. That headline. Failure.

The ghost of Peter’s face—

You need to come to terms—

No. No.

He sits in a dark room with half a bagel and he can’t face May. He can’t face MJ or Ned or his own wife or anybody that loves Spider-Man.

He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything, at all. He was completely and utterly fucking useless. No wonder Peter didn’t come to him.

Where is his body gonna be? Who’s gonna find it? What will he be wearing in his casket? The kid doesn’t like suits.

Tony covers his face with his hands. His breath comes out in tremors.

And Tony feels like he’s hallucinating now. Everything moves in stop-motion.

“Come sleep,” Pepper says, kissing his forehead. “Just for a little while.”

He says something back to her. He doesn’t know what it is, and she gives him that look, like she pities him, like she wishes she could take it all away. But she kisses him again and leaves, and he’s alone, terrified he might see May around the corner.

He drifts, lost in his own pain and failure, and the memories and Peter’s chit-chat and everything he’ll never get to say again, and Tony’s just about to leave to suit up again when he gets the alert.

“Boss, Peter Parker is at door B5 on the second level.”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. It catches up with itself.

Tony leaps to his feet, and Friday trills for his heart rate. It seems like the world is thrown off its axis for a second—or it’s reset back on it—

Tony reaches for something that isn’t there, trying to steady, trying to—

Peter. Peter. Peter at the door?

Not dead. Not dead. What the fuck is going on?

“Peter?” he breathes, already moving, not of his own accord. “Friday, it’s—are you—are you sure—”

“Peter Parker, B5.”

And Tony races there. Doesn’t think. Races through the empty hallways and nearly busts his ass on the stairwell. And when he reaches the door he can hear someone trying to scan in, and failing, more than one time, and he feels like an alarm would have already gone off if Friday didn’t know who it was.

“Friday, let him in—”

And the door opens just as Tony grabs the handle, and Peter stumbles inside.

Tony catches him when his legs give out, and Peter laughs a little bit, holding onto Tony’s arms.

He laughs. A laugh.

“Hey, hey,” Tony stutters, and he kicks the door closed and gets a hold of Peter around the waist. “Jesus, Jesus Christ—sitting or standing? I can do either one. Expert at either one.”

Alive alive he’s here—

“Uh, standing,” Peter says, gripping Tony’s arm and his shoulder. “Geeze, sorry. Still…wobbly.” He finally looks up at him—his eyes are so much brighter, and he’s gotten some of his color back.

Alive. Alive, not dead. Alive, solid, real.

How? How?

“What the hell happened?” Tony breathes. He glances around, panic rising in his throat, and he feels dizzy. “No, you know what, I choose sitting, I forgot there was a couch here—c’mere, c’mere bud, easy, easy—”

Peter snorts. “Okay yeah—good idea, uh—”

“Tell me what happened,” Tony says, moving them over there, sitting down. He keeps an arm around him, and brushes his hair back from his forehead so he can see his face better.

Disbelief. He can barely breathe he can barely think—

Peter shakes his head, closes his eyes, sags into Tony’s side. “Um—it’s still like, a mess, in my head, but I think like—I don’t know, I saw Scorpion, in the hallucination, and I—the acid, that I thought was there, it like—it pointed to him. And when I broke out of the handcuffs—”

“I’m so sorry,” Tony says, his face burning. “I’m so sorry.”

“No—I—listen, I get it, it’s okay—but the acid, it kept—even when he disappeared, the acid was neon and made like a trail and I—found him. I don’t know. I don’t know why it worked. Maybe something like a signature in the poison he made and my brain and him—I don’t know.”

He really looks at Tony, and Tony can see he’s bloody at the corner of his mouth, and he’s got a black eye.

Tony’s heart lurches. “Are you okay?” he asks, tipping Peter’s chin towards him, and Peter nods. “You got the—”

“I got it,” Peter breathes, nodding slowly. “Antidote. He actually seemed impressed—”

“Where is he now?” Tony says, blinking, feeling displaced.

“I left without a suit, so—I—he was in this warehouse. They’re always in a warehouse. I just piled as much shit on top of him as I could without killing him. He was knocked out, it was—hard but it’s—he should still be there.”

Tony nods. He’s gotta get somebody on that.

He’s shaking with the emotion of it all, and he stares at him, tries to believe it, tries to live in it. He’s here. He’s here.

Tony deflates a little bit, and he leans forward and presses his forehead to Peter’s, closing his eyes. “Jesus, Pete, I thought you were dead.”

“Me too,” Peter says, laughing a little bit. He pats Tony’s knee. “Can’t get rid of me that easy though, so—don’t, uh—sorry, my brain is still mushy peas.”

“It’s okay, it’s—we gotta tell May, she’s been half insane—”

And like clockwork, Tony hears her coming down the stairs.

“Tony,” she’s yelling, and Tony peels away from Peter to look. “Tony, I heard—Friday sent a notification—”

She sees Peter, stuttering in her tracks briefly, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. But then she’s running again, at full speed, and Tony helps Peter stand up.

“Hey May,” Peter breathes, and she rushes at him, wrapping him up in her arms.

“Oh, my baby,” she says, clutching at him. “My baby, Peter, you’re alive. You’re alive, thank God, thank God.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, rubbing her back, looking a little unsteady on his feet. “The news, uh—I told you they get it wrong a lot.”

“Come on,” Tony says, patting Peter’s shoulders. “Let’s—let’s go get you checked out.”

Happy goes to pick up MJ and Ned. Pepper deals with the news and the police. Rhodey heads out with Sam to get Scorpion and put him away for good.

And Tony and May watch while Helen checks Peter out. His levels are all getting back to normal, for real this time. His body is recovering, and the hallucinations are gone. Peter still has the “antidote bottle” that asshole gave him, and Helen takes it to test, to make sure they’ll have everything covered for next time.

Next time. There better not be a next time. Tony’s heart can’t take it.

“He did it all himself,” Tony says, when he and May are heading back into the room where Peter is. “I didn’t help at all—actually, I hindered. I actively hindered.”

“You kept him safe, and he felt safe, even if he didn’t really know it,” May says. “He feels comfort in us, even if we can’t—fix it, every time.”

Tony blows out a breath.

“And I know you want to be able to fix it,” she says, as they reach the door. “But you wanted him to be better than you, didn’t you? You said that to him once?”

He freezes. It hits him like a pile of bricks, but all she does is smile. She opens the door and they walk inside and Peter is already getting out of bed.

“No more acid?” May asks, glancing back at Tony.

“No more acid,” Peter says. He crosses his arms over his chest, and shakes his head. “I barely remember any of it. Just sort of like—flashes of a very bad movie.”

“Yeah,” Tony croaks, emerging from his shock. “You broke into Beyoncé’s apartment.”

Both Peter and May whip their heads up to look at him.

“Beyoncé?” they both nearly yell, in unison, and Tony snorts.

“No,” he says. “I don’t know.” He feels hazy still, and he swallows hard, trying to focus. “C’mere, I need a—real hug, real quick.”

“You mean not quick at all?” Peter asks, smiling at him with that bright, familiar smile that was lost the past couple days.

Could have been counted down to being lost forever.

Tony hugs him, squeezes his eyes shut, and doesn’t think about that. He rubs Peter’s shoulder and sways them both a bit, and doesn’t think about that. There’s no more ticking in his head, and Peter’s…Peter’s back.

“Maybe it was Beyoncé’s apartment,” Tony says, before the emotions overwhelm him, cradling Peter’s head. “It’s not out of the question. We’re gonna have to find out.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to—resolve that before the Beyhive finds me,” Peter says, still hugging him. “They’ll figure out my identity immediately.”

Tony pulls back, shaking his head at him. “I don’t know what a Beyhive is.”

“Don’t cross them, that’s what I’m saying,” Peter says. “And the other thing I’m saying is, I’m extremely hungry, and I might…I might die, if we don’t resolve that sooner rather than later.” He raises his eyebrows. “Tick tock.”

He’s trying to be cute and funny, to make them feel better, like things are getting back to normal after another round of hell courtesy of Spider-Man’s enemies. But Tony and May look at each other with a different kind of understanding of that phrase now.

“Okay,” Tony says, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders, while May gently takes his elbow. “That, I can help with.”

#iron dad #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #iron man #spider-man #works by iron_spider #irondad fic #marvel fic

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cross-my-heartt · 1 year

Text

Alright folks, now that Solitary Clone and Outpost are out and we have more insight into Crosshair’s character, I thought it would be interesting to revisit some of the things he said on Kamino at the end of season one.

I’ve been meaning to make this analysis for a while but I’m glad I’m doing it now because season two gives us a lot more context and material to work with. (Let’s hope the rest of the season doesn’t make me look like a clown by throwing us a curve ball lol.)

Beware this is a quote heavy analysis.

Right off the bat I want to look at his motivations because that’s one thing people often use when they try to dub him as a villain. The thing is, Crosshair’s speech does often makes it sound there’s some more sinister ideological beliefs behind his actions.

“Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire's doing, occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right.”

“You still don't see the bigger picture, but you will.”

But when we look into it, I think the ‘bigger picture’ for Crosshair is something much more pragmatic and cynical than it seems.

To put it simply Crosshair sees the Empire for what it is, he knows how dangerous it is and that stopping it at this point is nigh impossible (and let’s be real, if Luke had caught a stray blaster bolt at any point, the Empire wouldn’t have ended anytime soon.)

He’s even more aware of it than most because he’s on the inside so when he talks about it there’s almost this resigned fatalistic quality to it.

“They did what needed to be done. Kamino, regs, the Republic... that time is over. The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it.”

There’s no reverence here. Compare it to the way any imperial baddie talks, Rampart, Tarkin, Sidious, etc. and you’ll see that this isn’t praise, this is just reality as Crosshair sees it. And Crosshair’s realism is really neat because it’s so uncomfortably close to the truth sometimes.

“Send her on a shuttle off-world.”

“Crosshair, don't.”

“It's for her own good. And yours.”

“Omega belongs with us.”

“Living among fugitives where she's in constant danger? You want to protect the kid, then let her go.”

___

“Blind allegiance makes you a pawn. A real leader protects his squad.”

“Look where that's gotten you. They're all going to die here because of your failed leadership.”

It’s in these moments of rationality that we see Crosshair’s perspective as someone who’s trying to protect his family at all costs, to the point where he’s almost begging.

“It's time to stop running.” (Running is too dangerous, I know the thing that’s hunting you and you can’t defeat it.)

“Don't make the same mistake twice. Don't become my enemy.” (Don’t pick a fight you’re going to lose.)

Of course coming from him, it all sounds like a threat because not only does Crosshair not sugarcoat things, he also finds the most brutal and even cruel ways to say them.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be. Not that it wouldn't be justified.” (I could have killed you but I didn’t. You did things that put you in danger of being killed.)

And because of his tendency to do that, you can easily make wrong assumptions about his character. The most uncomfortable parts of his speech are where he sounds eerily like a supremacist, like all of those officers who serve a bigoted and elitist empire.

“Because the Empire will be phasing out clones next.”

“Not the ones that matter.”

___

“We're not like the regs. We never have been. We're superior.”

But is that really supremacism? If it was would Crosshair treat the people around him as he does? Think about the way he treats Echo, Cody (especially in The Solitary Clone) and of course Mayday. That’s not the behavior of someone who finds other clones unworthy of friendship and kindness.

This is Crosshair being all bark and no bite. And it’s also that toxic coping mechanism that’s been hammered into his head: if you’re good enough, if you’re better than everyone, you earn the right to live and be safe and protected.

The batch’s life has always been about proving themselves, they’re an experimental unit, so it’s no surprise that a mentality like that has festered into something more insidious with Crosshair.

“You all are meant for more than drifting through the galaxy. It's time to stop running. Join the Empire, and you will have purpose again.”

Purpose? Ideological purpose? A higher purpose? Or just purpose in the sense of use, the thing that’s always kept them safe.

What’s funny here is that Hunter follows that line with “You really don't get who we are, do you?” because Hunter struggles with the same dilemma of ‘keeping my family safe’ vs ‘doing the morally right thing’ throughout the show and in most cases he needs an extra push from either Omega or Echo to choose the latter.

He as a leader knows firsthand how difficult the balancing act between those two is with how much grief it causes him.

Crosshair is on the extreme end of that dilemma. That protective side that sometimes overrides morality is much stronger in him and that coupled with his cynicism can make for a dangerous combination.

To Crosshair there will always be an unfeeling higher power that he has to please in order to earn its favor and protection. Once upon a time it was the Kaminoans, then it was the Republic and most recently it was the Empire – they’re all the same to him.

“The Empire can't protect the galaxy without strength.”

This is what the Empire is doing in his mind, the same thing as the Republic before it. It’s enforcing its will for the sake of peace and you needn’t look further than Cody’s own lines from episode three to realize that this is what things look like from most clones’ perspective, at least at first:

“The Empire seeks to establish peace and order throughout the galaxy. […] Listen, we both lived through one war. Let's not start another. Too many people have died already. We can resolve this without more bloodshed. Please, do this for your people.”

We also see that Crosshair doesn’t think all that highly of the Republic either:

“You betrayed everything we stood for. And for what? The Republic?”

And I think that’s because these big abstract entities hold little meaning to him.

His contract with both the Republic and the Empire is simple: protect and provide for me and my family and I will do what you say. You could even say he was conditioned to think that way. Ironically it’s Hunter who voices where Crosshair’s loyalties really lie when he says they're "loyal to each other and not some Empire" (and accidentally manages to be a bit hypocritical in the process).

And that’s true for Crosshair as well: his relationship with the Empire is not quite loyalty but more like a symbiotic relationship. It’s necessary but not personal:

“That's your problem, Hunter. You take things too personally.”

DBB put it best when he said “his job is not only to hit things from a stealth distance, but I think he also views the world and other people from that distance, as well”. (Remember that line about the bigger picture? Yep, Mr Baker knows his material.)

That’s why serving under Rampart seemed easy for Crosshair, we never once see him question or defy him. But then along comes Nolan who breaks that contract because suddenly things are personal, his hatred for clones is personal, he represents the part of the Empire that’s not just unfeeling but also actively goddamn awful and he makes the mistake of directing that cruelty at someone Crosshair cares about.

That’s both an eye opener and a deal breaker for Crosshair and we see what he’s capable of when things become personal, just how raw and human he can be.

That humanity, I think, is also why we see him split from the batch on Kamino. It might seem counterintuitive at first, but it starts to make sense when you see it from his pov: if you’re someone who’s so deeply devoted to the people you care about, the most painful thing that could happen to you is to be abandoned and rejected by them.

There’s a lot of hurt in what Crosshair says on Kamino:

“And here we all are, together again.”

“You betrayed everything we stood for. And for what? The Republic?”

“You weren't loyal to me. I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven't. And it's why I'm going to give you what you never gave me: a chance.”

“Think of all we could do together. We were brothers once. We can be again.”

“All those missions together and you threw it away.”

And all that doesn’t just go away like that. It’s his pain that pushes him into making a decision that will later haunt him.

At the end of the day, Crosshair’s biggest virtue is how loyal he is to the people he cares about. He’s not like Rex or Echo or Omega, who selflessly put themselves in harm’s way for a cause that’s bigger than them (not for now at least) but you can bet he’ll tear himself to shreds to protect what’s valuable to him.

And you can love or hate that about him but I think it makes for a very interesting character. To quote DBB again: “He's not pure evil. He’s ultimately a rational guy, and there's some humanity in there, too.”

#tbb #sw tbb #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb meta #tbb season two #tbb season 2 #my meta #I had fun with this one #honestly I love Crosshair because there are many ways to interpret the things he says and does #so each 'analysis' may come out different #I'm really eager to see where they take his character #unless they decide to kill him off then I'll just be eager to vandalize something

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mybrainsautocorrect · 6 days

Text

I was originally going to edit this more, but there turned out to be a lot. This show is utter poetry. Here’s my take on the final episode:

“In the end, he couldn’t kill you, and he couldn’t watch you die.” Will to Reba about Francis— mentioned this before and how it parallels Will and Hannibal to an extent. In parallel, though, Will is Francis because he couldn’t watch Hannibal die but he sure could kill him

“Was it good to see me?” No. (Good and bad are subjective anyway according to Hannibal, and I mean what did he expect, Will’s just that petty)

Your face is closed to me (later stabs it)- Francis to Will

“The dragon could absorb him that way, engulf him. Become more than he is.” Will about why Francis would want to meet/kill Hannibal (maybe talking about more than just the dragon— why Will himself wants to kill Hannibal so much)

“There is no advantage. It’s all just degrees of disadvantage.” Will to bedelia (exactly why no one truly wins, not even Bedelia, in the end)

“Can’t live with him, can’t live without him” followed by will’s “I guess this is… my becoming” after he had been using becoming and change from Francis’ perspective the whole episode- a hint at his upcoming death but also the fact that he is going to succumb to his ‘killer instinct’ because he is becoming what Hannibal always wanted

“Any rational society would either kill me, or give me my books” Hannibal hinting that he knows Will’s plan before he was even let out of his cell

“You trust Will with my wellbeing?” “As much as I trust you with his.” Hannibal to Alana, Alana back (call back to when she set Hannibal free to save Will, or hint that she knows wills plan to kill Hannibal -I mean she probably does but it wouldn’t be wise to let Hannibal know that- because will would not be safe with Hannibal for any length of time. The question would be if she knows that this also hints at the actual outcome of them both dying)

Multiple scenes where Will is the last character introduced, and is hidden right up until he speaks.— subtle foreshadowing of his death? That these conversations can and will occur without him there in the future :(

Significance of the mourners in the church? (Will and Hannibal’s last conversation with Hannibal still imprisoned)— perhaps for dolarhyde as it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that Hannibal doesn’t know they’re going to kill him, but may also be for Hannibal himself as he did already hint that he knows Will wants to kill him

“I need you, Hannibal.” Will to Hannibal (double meaning- needs him for this and needs him in his life- cannot exist without him)

“Going my way?” Hannibal to Will after dolarhyde broke up the police escort (yes he is actually- into murder and over a cliff)

Hannibal and Will stood on the same cliffs in the daytime and Will stood right on the edge with his back to Hannibal. And they discussed two people who died because of Hannibal earlier on and how Will was there(like he’s next). “Soon, all this will be lost to the sea.” There is so much foreshadowing and I cannot stand it

~~~~~

And their entire final conversation

“I don’t know if I can save myself. And maybe that’s just fine.” Save himself from Hannibal’s influence or save himself literally? He knew that he was going to have to kill someone that night so it’s likely it was referring to the former, but he also has most likely at least considered that he will die so it’s perhaps both

“No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for a friend.” Hannibal, about himself or about will? Implies that Will was speaking about his death and not losing to Hannibal’s influence, but either option from wills words point to the opposite answer in Hannibal’s response

Hannibal said the above whilst standing between Will and the biggest window of all time, and followed it up with the admittance that he knew dolarhyde was watching them. That implies that he is the man in his quote who is laying down his life for a friend (will).

“Suicide is the enemy” Hannibal to dolarhyde (the enemy that Hannibal is fighting in regard to will?)

~~~~~

The music starts right as they begin working together for the first time. Called Love Crime

“I will survive, live and thrive, win this deadly game.” The lyrics as they go over the cliff. Despite being called Hannibal- the show has always been about Will. And he gets the last words. He wins. He may not get to survive, but he wins the game

#hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal nbc #analysis #spoilers #murder husbands #thoughts

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shh-om · 7 months

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k¡nktober day eight - gore w solomon

~900 words

blood , cannibalism , dub con ? no actual sex — taken some direct quotes from The Gourmand's Main Dish devildom

“Today’s course is made with an incredibly rare, once-in-a-lifetime ingredient.” Solomon holds up a large bottle of expensive Demonus, the brand one you recognize from Mephisto’s personal stash. “Which is why I’ve prepared some Demonus to go with it. This Demonus is full bodied while still being light and refreshing,” Solomon continues as he rests the bottle on the table. “After all, a dish like this requires the best of the best.”

Despite Solomon’s cheer as he pitches this new meal, his body betrays his words, a large carving knife scraping against a sharpener. Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

Once-in-a-lifetime… the way he phrases this meal makes you nervous.

“Why are you sharpening your knife?” Maybe if you can call Solomon out, he’ll chicken out. Or maybe you’re just being paranoid.

“Oh, this?” His laugh is dangerous and charming, and your heart skips a beat for more than one reason as Solomon throws you a wink. “It’s so I can carve up the main course neatly.”

You shift in your seat as Solomon crosses the table to stand closer to your chair, still grating his blade on the block as he does.

“It wouldn’t do to ruin a first-rate ingredient with by slicing it with a dull knife, now would it?” By the time he finishes his question he’s right behind you, and you crane your head to keep a nervous eye on him.

Solomon laughs again, joyus, “gosh, I can’t wait to dig in….”

Then as you blink the flat side of the knife is on your throat and Solomon keeps you held down to the chair with on of his hands. Your head pushes back against the warmth of his chest as you strain away from the blade.

“It’s time for our fun main course,” Solomon whispers in your ear, dark and hot.

“Solomon,” you choke out. “What-?” Fear like ice runs in your veins.

“See this delicious ingredient?” Solomon places a kiss on the back of your neck, pressing the flat of the knife harder into your skin. You whimper, anticipating the answer. “…That’s right. I’m talking about you, MC.”

Tears bead up in your eyes, and Solomon shushes you as you begin to cry.

“You’ll dehydrate yourself, and your taste won’t be as good.”

“Please don’t kill me, Solomon,” you sniffle as the sorcerer presses another kiss to the back of your neck. His tender kiss is a harsh contrast to the cold of the blade against your delicate skin.

“I wouldn’t dream of killing you, MC. Do you take me for a monster?” The hand on your chest lifts and he snaps, magic bonds forming to keep you seated and unmoving in the chair.

Solomon takes the knife away from your throat, walking back around to face you, dragging your chair back a bit to make room to stand in front of you.

“I only want a taste, human flesh is truly delicious, and coming from you,” a dreamy look crosses the sorcerer’s face. “With your magic and the love we harbor for one another, you will be divine.”

“Solomon, I don’t like this.”

He frowns, lifting a hand to cup your face. “Hey, I love you. I won’t let you die on me.”

Rough hands roll your pajamas down your legs, dragging your underwear with them. Solomon’s eyes center on your cunt and a curious hand rubs your clit, smiling a bit when it throbs. All you do is cry as you take it.

“Alright, I’m just going to take maybe half a pound or so from your leg here,” his hand gently slaps the skin of your thigh. “And as a reward for giving me such a lovely meal,” his fingers trace their way up to your pussy. “I’ll eat your pretty little cunt out.~”

You would be trembling if not for the magic on your legs, holding them spread and still.

“Now, I won’t draw this out, my darling.” With that the knife sinks into your flesh with a sickening ease. The cuts Solomon administers are quick, clean, and precise. He angles the blade to slide underneath his square of meat and you sob at the pain.

“I know, I know,” Solomon shushes, not stopping. “Almost done, darling.”

True to his word, once Solomon’s places your meat on the kitchen table, he shoves his face between your butchered thighs. His white hair brushes the open wounds and you squirm harder in pain, the blood slowly seeping into his hair. He’s good, sucking your clit like his life depends on it. Tongue dancing around your little nub. You cry for a different reason now.

“Solomon,” you squirm as your peak draws near, only able to watch the dart of his pink tongue and the steady dying of his white hair with your blood.

After you come over his face, Solomon gives you a charming smile, one unfit for the situation at hand, and leans back to take the hunk of flesh he carved from your thigh to the kitchen.

“Now, I’ll get you a healing potion in just a minute, darling. I’m gonna get this frying, alright?”

…

“This won’t be the last time I do this, darling. One taste won’t be enough. Call me a glutton if you will.”

(Ah and only if he wouldn’t desecrate your flesh with his horrid cooking..)

#solomon smut #obey me #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me lemon #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x you #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day eight #obey me kinktober

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kleewie · 1 year

Text

doc, i think she's crashin' out

summary: he couldn’t stop death. so, death kindly stopped for you. and years later, he’s still picking up the pieces—one shard after another. but you, of all people, know that nothing heals a wound better than letting go. (simply, a bittersweet fic where you reincarnate into someone else’s body and watch your lover in anguish over your death).

→ pairings: diluc, & xiao

→ warnings: not properly proofread (may have tense issues), angst, character death (you), mentions of death, grief, bittersweet comfort, mentions of blood and wounds, trauma (about your death), gender-neutral reader (the use of she on the title is from a song quote called ‘epiphany by t.s’)

→ author’s note: hi, it’s me again. i was supposed to finish this weeks ago but i was exhausted from a fourteen hour flight and it took me a while to get my rhythm back. but here it is and i hope you enjoy it :> anyway, was planning to (maybe?) make a part two. like, what if they find out it’s you in that body. and what’d they would say or do. (yes, ayato was supposed to be in this but i switched him out to be included in a different angsty fic)

and credits to @wholelottaprompts for the angsty prompts!!

beware, lengthy post ahead! more under the cut!

#diluc:

it begins as a normal day. a typical, ordinary, day.

you clean the bed, eat breakfast with your beloved, greet the servants a ‘good morning’, kiss diluc's cheek goodbye, head to the market to shop, say ‘hello’ to a passing kaeya, smacking his shoulder in surprise when he teases you: (“shush! you're going to ruin the surprise!” you laugh).

so, how is it you're freezing? how is it you can't feel your legs? how is it possible to be bleeding out on the cold snow, one hand over your wound?

you don't know—it was such a beautiful day.

all you do know is the resounding pain from your abdomen. the feeling of blood sliding down your body. and the awareness of your inevitable end; all alone on the chilly ice.

you want it to stop. you scream, please make it stop.

but, no words fall out of your mouth.

only complete silence.

hours seem like days, before you hear the sound of boot steps—heavy and frantic, crunching on the snow.

someone comes for you. and you breathe a sigh of relief.

alone. you aren't going to die alone.

“you came,” you weep.

“always, my love.” diluc kneels beside you, placing a pressured hand on the fatal gash. “i’m right here, you're alright. you're going to be fine.”

he's lying.

you can tell.

you see it by the way his eyes moisten at the intensity of the wound. the way he squeezes his eyelids shut, hoping the tears don't fall. the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration, as if praying you don't see how terrified he is to lose you.

“forgive me,” he whispers. “please, forgive me.”

diluc twists, looking back, and you hear him scream. one so agonizing, so piercing. a shout for someone, for anybody, to please save you.

but you can barely think; you're too exhausted, too numb.

you squeeze his hand, “it's the end of the line for us, isn't it?”

“no—” he says, sucking breaths in between sobs. “—we have all the time in the world, darling.”

#after:

you wake up days later, in a warm bed.

the heat's almost too much to bear, so you shuffle all the bedsheets off your body. you sit up, and the sudden awareness hits.

i’m alive! your thoughts sing.

you can’t wait to see diluc! you can’t wait to hug him! you can’t wait to kiss him!

but, a surprised gasp escapes you.

because standing in front of you is a giant standing mirror. and a reflection, unlike your own, stares back at you.

you scream.

it takes two weeks to accept the new, well, you: a sickly child of a pair of gardeners who work at the ragnvindr estate. apparently, you were at the brink of death—wasting away from a bacterial infection you caught weeks ago—and survived.

you know the truth though. their child died. and you took over their body like some demon (why you come back as them? you have no idea).

funny. they're the same age as you (when you died).

so subtly, you try asking the couple about your previous body. i mean, who in their right minds will believe you reincarnated into their child's body? a fever dream, they may say.

but they greet you with clammy hands and wide eyes, begging never to mention that name ever again.

at least, never out loud. and not ever in the presence of the master. because everyone knows how miserable he is from the loss of his beloved.

four years had passed since the incident. yet, his wound still stings as if their death happened yesterday.

still, you want to see him. partly in disbelief and partly in fury.

after all these years he still longs for your presence.

oh, your sweet, sweet diluc.

and because how dare he continue to beat himself up over an accident he had no control over.

that's the last thing you want.

to hurt himself over the memory of you.

alas, the opportunity to see him comes.

the head maid summons you to work as a house servant for the mansion. this was your (the previous soul's) plan to work for the family, who has treated yours with such kindness (only cancelling because of your prior sickness).

so now, you're sweeping the dirt out of the second floor of the dull manor. dusting the windows, wiping the cabinets, scrubbing here and there.

sometimes, you glimpse a wandering shadow. one, whose eyes stare unseeingly—only brightening up upon seeing a covered old portrait of halcyon days.

a scene, you know so well.

a couple smiles at the painter, eyes beaming with happiness.

yet, the ecstatic emotion doesn't reflect back at the man staring at it.

at times, you see an anguished soul. one, who knows how to push people away—barking furiously, at anyone who tries to come close.

even if that person happens to be you.

“what do you think you're doing?” he snaps. “who allowed you to enter this room?”

me, you want to say. it's my room.

instead, you respond with: “my apologies, master. the room's dirty. so i thought it'd be nice to have it cleaned.”

diluc stares, stern and sharp. a moment passes and you see his eyes trail behind you.

on instinct, you look back to notice an opened maroon-colored present on the bed side table.

the lid of the box lays forgotten on the floor,

and a lustrous gold ring sits on the wooden desk.

his gaze immediately softens.

“leave,” he scolds. “and never come back.”

you obey his orders.

sadly, you're banned from the room. but you're thankful you get to stay at the mansion.

and unbeknownst to you, diluc lingers for hours.

peering at the piece of jewelry he bought four years ago as a token of his love for you.

ever so often, you find a sorrowful man—one too grief-stricken to eat. all his meals turn into mush and slop, thinking about how you used to love dining with him.

he remembers sitting with you while he works, your hand in his.

he recalls you caressing his hair, soothing his head from the nightmares that plague his sleep.

he recollects all of your jokes, even the ones that aren't even funny. but you're smiling and it brightens his day.

you, you, you.

he finds the thought of you hard to swallow.

once in a while, you hear the sounds of footsteps tapping at midnight—soft and light on the second floor. he walks with purpose; now and then, lifting his legs high as if trailing on thick snow.

tailing him, you watch as he mindlessly marches towards the end of the corridor. towards your old room.

his fingers twist the doorknob to no avail.

it's locked.

he can't get in. he can't save you.

you place a gentle hand on his back, guiding the man back to his room.

even in his unconscious state, he looks for you.

he searches for you in the coldest of places. hoping and praying, he'll make it in time.

in time to see your radiant smile once more.

(he doesn't)

sometimes, you glimpse a shadow of his former self—eyes staring fondly at a scene you know perfectly well.

“i haven’t looked at this portrait in years,” diluc says, softly.

he leans against the wall opposite of the image, his dominant hand rests within the right pocket of his pants.

in the painting, you and diluc are smiling. eyes sparkling joyfully.

you shoot him a quizzical look.

the curtains that hid the portrait are gone. but you're sure it was there a day ago. certainly, it was him who removed it.

glancing at his peaceful form, you ask, “do you miss them?”

diluc twists a gold ring in his pocket. his fingers brush the cursive engraving of your name.

sentiments of melancholy soar in his chest, thinking about the day you died.

the same day he was going to propose.

a bittersweet smile rests on his face, “more than you know.”

#xiao:

“xiao!”

where is he? why isn't he coming? your thoughts run as fast as your feet carry you—over thick terrain, and sliding repeatedly on the rain soaked ground.

“xiao!” you scream.

swishing your head back, you see the faint silhouette of your attackers. seven treasure hoarders sprint towards your direction, enraged by your successful stealing attempt.

it's a commission, you see. all you have to do is: sneak into a specific treasure hoarder hideout, steal a specified silver necklace, and easily get out.

a supposed effortless commission.

and unexpectedly, it's the job that's going to get you killed.

if it weren't for the bleeding gash on your abdomen, and the flint arrow jammed through your ankle— you'd beat these watered-down weaklings any day.

but you're exhausted from the sleepless night before. drained from crying your eyes out in a jealous fit of rage; all because you couldn't stand hearing the traveler's name, over and over, from your dearest adeptus' lips.

“please, xiao!” you yelp, sliding against a tree root.

shouldn't he be here by now? you wonder. is he the type of person to watch you suffer in agony as revenge for yesterday? of course not!

he will be here the moment you call his name. he will rescue and then chastise you after.

but, a bitter taste wallows in your throat. he's not coming and it's all your fault.

screaming you absolutely hate him to his face? weeping about how unfair his favoritism is? praying you suddenly die a swift death so he can finally be with the person he truly loves?

how stupid can you be!

“i didn't mean what i said!” you choke, as a steady stream of tears fall. “i'm so sorry for everything, xiao—”

a gust of wind cuts your apology, and xiao stands right before you with a concerned (almost frantic) look on his face.

he digests the scene quickly, beating the humans who dare hurt his cherished lover. “foolish!” xiao scolds. “reckless! what were you think—”

xiao's heart skips a beat. turning around, he sees you on the muddy ground. one hand squeezing your chest in a death grip. he hastily dashes to you and places your back on his lap.

“who did this?” xiao snarls.

struggling, you point a finger at your left ankle. xiao immediately notices the flint arrow coated in a mulberry-like tint.

poison, you think. you're going to die.

tears flood your eyes as your chest feels heavier than ever before. like an anchor pulling you to the bottom of an ocean, while you suffocate slowly.

“i don't want to die.” you mumble, between shallow breaths.

xiao places one hand under your knees and another behind your back, lifting you up into his arms. “don't be scared, i'm right here.”

puffs of wind sting your face and you know he's carrying you to help. searching for a doctor, or a merchant. for anyone to help.

a plop of water tickles your eyelash, compelling you to glance upwards. “you know, i don't think i've ever seen you cry...”

unblinking, xiao stares forward and more tears slide down his cheeks. as if sensing the life trickle out of your body, he whispers “do not leave my side.”

you're to tired to respond.

but, you hope the sigh of relief coming from your lips is a loud enough answer.

#after:

past memories materialize in your brain like an electric shock.

you died—oh, archons—you're dead!

your hands shake in terror, and you feel like throwing up.

oh, yes. you do puke your guts out. in front of your newfangled distraught parents.

apparently the blast of information is too much to bear for a seven year old.

(even if your current mind is older than twice your current age)

and your parents don't know what to do: you don't eat, you don't talk, you stare out the window with glazed eyes, you barely sleep at all, even food doesn't help.

and they know how much you love food.

so imagine their surprise seeing their child burst out into tears upon feeding your favorite dish, almond tofu.

tears of happiness? nope. you sob hopelessly remembering your dearest xiao. your favorite person in the whole world.

oh, what you would give to jump back into his arms.

but, no. you're stuck here. you've stolen an innocent child's body. taken the place of that said child. taking advantage of your new parent's kindness.

how it happened? you don't know.

but you're smart enough not to ask.

precautions in case they decide to burn you as a sacrifice to the gods, for figuring out you're a devil in disguise? i mean, you don't know these people. it's better to be safe than sorry.

anyway, the sudden personality change baffles your parents.

a month ago, you nearly drowned playing near the deep waters of wangshu inn. a day after the incident, you remain the same. weeks later, you're having nightmares and talking in your sleep.

what's going on? your parents don't know. they think you're having a delayed response to almost drowning. and they absolutely need to bring a healer to you pronto.

your grandmother, who coincidentally happens to be verr goldet, recommends she takes you into her care while they (father and mother) head to liyue harbor.

they accept. and you're thrown into the arms of your loving grandmother.

some days, she tells you stories about the illuminated beasts known as the adepti. magical beings who protect liyue from demons and vile gods.

grandmother winks, “i hear, a certain friend of mine loves almond tofu. try offering some, and maybe he'll tell you more stories.”

and that's how you're sitting on the floor, leaning against an open window in one of the inn's available rooms.

the mere action beckons child services to scoop you up. i guess, she trusts you not to fall to your death.

anyhow, the plated dish lays perfectly on the window sill. yet, xiao still hasn't come to say hi, and you've been waiting for hours.

why would he come? you think, he doesn't know you.

unsurprisingly, you fall asleep as exhaustion creeps up on you.

and unknowingly, you whisper xiao's name over and over while you dream of blissful days. watching the sunsets and sunrises with your dearest person.

you don't see the yaksha when you wake up though. but the empty plate on the bottom of the window sill attests his visit.

afterwards, you see xiao three times.

your first meeting takes place when you are seven and a half years old. outside wangshu inn, near the shallow waters.

funnily enough, you assume that since you (previous child) virtually died (actually died) while swimming in the said place, you suppose you'd be banned from going near the said place.

but composed grandma has other ideas. rephrasing her words, “face your fears, or face your death.” yes, she loves you and only wants you to be prepared for the worst. then how hard can it be? you know how to swim. it'll be easy-peasy.

so how is it possible you're choking on sea water? your limbs struggle to bring you above the surface, and your neck cranes at different angles to help you breathe.

“xiao—please—help!” you scream, gasping for air.

seconds later, someone carries you up by the back collar of your t-shirt. “mortals and death wishes,” xiao chastises as he drops you on the grass. “leave my name out of this.”

your mouth gapes open in awe. he's here! he came! you're so giddy that you nearly spill the beans (of who you are). “thank you! it's great to see you again!” you beam.

xiao tilts his head quizzically, “...again?” he pauses and then says, “forget it. it's time to move you somewhere else. lest you'd call me again for something mediocre.”

you wince. now isn't a good time to reveal who you are, you figure. he'd likely scoff at your face and evade all contact with you than actually believe your story.

so you keep it to yourself for the time being.

before xiao can seize your collar (well, to carry you around of course), your tiny hand grasps his fingers.

“did you like the food?” you ask, pulling him towards wangshu inn.

he throws a bizarre look, one akin to surprise and turmoil. and subsequently nods slowly, as if testing your reaction.

“let's go home then!” you chirp. “there's more in the fridge.”

xiao stops walking, taken aback. and you suppose your friendly invitation is too much for the adepti. but a short while later, he's behind you, trailing after your footsteps.

four years pass and now you're eleven.

it's time for your daily afternoon walk. as your doctor recommends walking around the shoreline to cure your fear of swimming, you stroll near guili plains.

honestly, you're only permitted to walk near the inn. but hey, what's a life without adventure?

hours pass and you're exhausted from wandering. so you decide to rest beneath a tree to gain enough strength to walk back to wangshu.

however, fate loves to meddle and you end up tripping on a piece of cobblestone. upon inspecting the rock, you notice your name carved on the stone.

and your heartbeat quickens. your name? how could you forget? this is where your life ended, within the embrace of the person you loved most.

a snowy colored flower catches your attention. a qingxin. the freshness of the plant makes it seem like someone placed it quite recently.

actually, spot on theory. a breeze of wind tickles your back, signaling the arrival of a certain annoyed adepti.

“tread carefully,” xiao warns, adjusting the disorderly flowers. “perhaps, try to watch where you're going.”

his words sound awful, but you notice the lack of hostility. inviting xiao to eat lunch at the inn must've done wonders as he's less unfriendly towards you.

you mutter a sincere 'sorry' and plop down on your knees, facing the grave. your eyes watch the adepti in sheer engrossment, trying to make the grave as perfect as possible.

the words flow out of your mouth without much thought, “are you always here?”

xiao opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it. a pause. he repeats the action, following another pause. he's likely contemplating why in archon's name he'd be telling his troubles to a child like you.

and you understand his hesitancy. he barely knows you, you've only met him twice, and he isn't the type of person to spill his whole life story to a kid he knows.

but before you can change the topic, xiao whispers, “unusual it is. they’re gone... i know it. but i always come back, waiting for them to return.”

you’re thirteen when a dream scares the living daylights out of you.

your eyes blink, adjusting to the darkness of your room. clammy hands grip the bottom hem of your t-shirt as your eyes fill up with tears.

how scary it is. to continually have reoccurring dreams about your death day. the drumming of the rain must have triggered the nightmare, as your bad dreams seemingly happen on a rainy day.

“help me... please. xiao,” you mumble, tucking yourself deeper into the blanket.

instantaneously the adepti appears kneeling beside your bed. he lightly lifts the cover; and you, fully-adjusted to the darkness, see a perplexed look on his face.

“the rain scares me,” you croak, voice raspy from crying.

xiao’s expression promptly softens. “don’t be afraid. i’m here.”

he pauses before adding, “...and i don’t like the rain either.”

you nod in agreement. the day you stumbled upon your own grave was the same day he explained about what happened to you—a story you reminisce multiple times in your nightmares.

but you’re in no mood for frightening tales.

grabbing his hand, you ask: “can you tell me a story about them?”

xiao’s shoulders relax, appreciating your reassuring hand. “they love adventures and exploring the great unknowns,” he pauses. “now they are finally flying above the stars, just like they always wanted.”

author’s note: before anyone comes after me saying xiao wouldn’t take that long to save you, his part actually occurs at the same time the chasm escape lore happens. so the moment he shows up was the only time he actually heard you calling his name. ‘cause we all know he’d come running to save you instantly if you called ;-;

also, it’s purely platonic on xiao’s part. we don’t ship pedo in this blog;; he simply treats you as a little sister/brother in the #after sections.

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnivindr x you #xiao x you #adeptus xiao x reader #gn reader #diluc x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin angst #genshin headcanons #xiao #diluc #genshin impact

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