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thdorkmagnet · 3 months

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Forgiveness in Three Phases

So this came out of nowhere not gonna lie. Was actually trying to finish a Turtle Tots story but then @somerandomdudelmao Cass Apocalypse series ended and I ended up using that as the fire under my feet to write this. This isn't a fanfic of that series or anything, just a result of me needing to emotionally work out my feelings through writing, so I felt like I should mention the impact it had on me and this story. Regardless, you should read Cass Apocalypse series anyways because it's amazing and everything I ever wanted in a comic and I can't recommend it highly enough! Seriously read it if you haven't! You won't regret it!

As for this story, it's a little bit of an experiment I wanted to try out. This takes place post- ROTTMNT movie and is basically Leo having a talk with each of his brothers about his sacrifice. It seemed like a typical idea for the fandom to explore so I wanted to try something a little different to make it feel a little more unique.

This story is told non-chronologically. It jumps between three different points in time, the talk with Donnie, the talk with Mikey, and the take with Raph. There are points where it intersects but mostly it jumps freely between. I did my best to make it easy to follow but let me know if anyone struggles.

Anyways that's really it. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle belongs to Andy Suriano, Ant Ward, and Nickelodeon. All rights go to them.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes,” Donnie replied instantly, leaning over the machine he was tinkering on, refusing to even look at Leo.

“No,” Mikey said before his gaze shifted. “Maybe a little.”

Raph sighed, looking so tired and small. “It's more complicated than that, Leo.”

“What you did was stupid, self-sacrificial, and incredibly selfish!” Donnie's teeth were grit together, fingers welding small strips of metal together, causing sparks of light to bounce off his goggles. “What gave you the right to throw your life away like that?! What made you think any of us would be okay with that?!”

“I'm more sad than mad, really,” Mikey confessed, stirring the broth he was making with shaky hands. His thoughts seemed to be a million miles away, detached from his current self. “I know it was a desperate situation and I know you were just trying to protect us but when that portal closed, I…” Mikey lost his voice, eyes flooding with tears. His gaze finally focused in on his brother. “Why did you have to leave us, Leo?”

“I mean I am mad. I'm furious, Leo! At you, at the Krang, at the whole awful situation we ended up in, all of it!” Raph growled, low and steady, the punching bag he had been mercilessly wailing on a moment before now a crumpled broken heap on the floor. His voice was barely a whisper as he finally added, “But more than that I'm mad at myself.”

“No!” Donnie shouted, cutting off any attempt for Leo to explain himself, slamming a fist so hard on his desk it made the walls rattle. He fully turned to face his brother, goggles still hiding his eyes. “No, I don't want to hear any of your excuses! I don't care that you're the leader! I don't care that you thought there was no other way! I don't care that it was the literal end of the world! I don't care! Nothing you say is ever going to justify me almost losing my twin!”

“It hurt us! It hurt us all so, so much!” Mikey shouted through his tears, dinner forgotten as he crumpled to his knees. “Raph and Donnie were just so broken. And sad. A-And I just couldn't… I can't-” Mikey threw himself at Leo, clinging to him with all he was worth. He held tight, sobbing and shaking and screaming incoherently as days and weeks of pent-up frustration and sadness bubbled freely to the surface. He held onto Leo so he couldn’t go away again.

Raph looked away, guilt washing over his face like a wave over sand. “I shoulda stopped you. I shoulda done somethin’.” Raph's shoulders slumped, like there was an unseen, oppressive weight pushing him down, threatening to crush him. “I'm the oldest, I'm supposed to keep you guys safe! Not you! It shoulda been me that got sent to the Prison Dimension. Instead, I let you make an impossible decision and it nearly killed you.”

Donnie finally tugged up his goggles, eyes glassy with falling tears, something small and vulnerable now filling the space between the two brothers. “I thought you died, Leo. For a minute I… I thought you were gone. I mourned you.” There was no anger in his tone anymore. He just sounded sad and broken and so, so tired. He turned back to his invention, whispering. “You made me mourn you, Nardo.”

It took a while before Mikey’s wails sounded like words again. “I can't lose you, Leo! I can't, I can't, I can't! I-I was s-so scared! And the magic hurt so bad! I just wanted to bring you home! Even if it brought Krang back! Even if it killed me! I needed you back!”

Raph plopped on the floor, the weight finally too much for him to stand. Leo sat down too, failing to find the words to say. “I'm sorry, Leo. For not being there for you. And I don't just mean with the Krang, even before that. I thought you just weren't taking anything seriously and showing off like always. I didn't realize how hard it all was for you. I shoulda understood.” He finally met his brother's eye with a tenderness that hadn't been there in so long. “Instead I kept fighting with you and pushing you and pressuring you, instead of just being there and supporting you the way I shoulda been. And maybe if I hadn't said all of that…” Raph let out a deep, soul-crushing sigh. “You wouldn't of sacrificed yourself the way you did.”

Leo crashed into Donnie’s back, burying his head into his torn shell, arms encircling his twin protectively.

He squeezed Mikey back, letting his own tears fall.

He reached out a hand, placing it over Raph’s own, finally meeting his big brother's eye.

“I'm sorry.”

“Your right, there is no excuse,” Leo admitted, words muffled as he buried himself a little further into the soft leather. “I never should’ve left you like that. I shouldn’t have hurt you or made you… think I was dead.” He choked back a sob, holding his twin just a little tighter. “I didn’t want to make that decision, I wanted to stay with you and Raph and Mikey and eat pizza and watch Jupitor Jim and argue about who’s the best at video games.” He couldn’t hold the sobs back anymore, crying into his twin’s shell, feeling the floodgates of his heart open, drowning him alive. But Donnie was here and there was safety in his presence, so he could keep on breathing. “I didn’t want to die and leave you alone.”

“I’m so sorry, Mikey,” Leo said gently, hands rubbing circles into his baby brother’s shell. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I scared you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” He kept mumbling soothing words, listening as Mikey’s breathing started to even out and the tears turned into small sniffles and chirps. Still, Leo didn’t release his brother, he just held him close, pouring all the love, comfort, and affection he had to give into their embrace. He felt Mikey return it back tenfold, soaking through his shell and warming him from the inside out. “I’m here now. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again. I promise. We’re safe Mikey. You’re safe. It’s all over. I’m home.”

Leo nearly chuckled when Raph gave him a confused look. “What? Why are you so surprised? I thought that’s what you wanted to hear? I mean if anyone here has a lot to apologize for it’s me, not you.” His playful tone turned serious again, giving his big bro an apologetic smile. “Look, I know I haven’t been the easiest person to get along with lately, so I don't really blame you for any of what happened, before or after the end of the world. And you shouldn’t either. Not for a single thing.”

Donnie suddenly swerved in his chair and pulled Leo tightly to his chest. Leo was so shocked he just sat there frozen for a moment. “I’m not mad at you because of what happened to me, Nardo. I’m mad because of what happened to you. Because you thought your life was worth less than ours and you let yourself get hurt because of it. You nearly died because of it. And because you care so little about yourself, I thought it would help you avoid repeating obvious mistakes to see our perspective as well.” Donnie let out a small breath, resting his chin on Leo’s head, hands gently brushing over his shell. “Though perhaps I went about it the wrong way. Emotions aren’t my strong suit.”

Leo let out a wet chuckle, pulling away so he could wipe away the stray tears. “Same here. And sorry again… for everything.”

After what felt like a lifetime, Mikey spoke, voice choked and raw but still surprisingly strong. “Okay, I-I think I feel a bit better now.” He broke the hug, staring up at his big brother with misty eyes. “I needed that, I think.”

“We both did,” Leo agreed, kissing him on the top of the head.

Raph didn’t seem convinced, looking down at their hands instead of his brother. “I still shoulda stopped you from going into the Prison Dimension. You got so hurt.”

“Hey, that was my choice to make,” Leo said firmly, giving his brother an intense stare until he met his eye again. “And I don’t regret it. Just like how I know you don’t regret-” The words almost didn’t come and he had to swallow hard to get them out. “-jumping in front of me to save my life. It’s what leaders do.” He squeezed Raph’s hand as tightly as he could. “It’s what brothers do.”

“Yes, well, just don’t forget we care about you, dummy. Or we’ll be having this conversation again.” There was affection in Donnie’s tone, carefully reaching up to adjust Leo’s mask. However, the smile vanished a second later, hand gripping the mask tails and pulling hard. “And if you ever pull a stupid stunt like that again, I'll have both your legs surgically removed!”

“And you mean it,” Mikey asked in a soft, anxious tone. “You won’t do that again. Promise?”

Raph let out a long, pained breath, the tension seeming to leave his body a little, the creases in his brow fading. “Yeah, I guess it is. Just… promise me next time you won’t do it alone. Brothers help each other, too, y’know.”

Leo nodded, smiling. “I promise.”

Donnie nodded back, accepting the answer, turning back to his invention but allowing Leo to linger.

Mikey beamed brightly, moving back to the stove to try and salvage the burnt broth.

Raph gave his brother a toothy grin, opening his arms up for a hug. Leo melted into it.

“Soooo, do you forgive me?”

Donnie hummed in thought. “While I am still notably mad at you, I suppose I can accept your apology. You are lucky you are insufferably endearing.”

“Yeah I do,” Mikey said with such honesty and conviction it made Leo tear up again.

“Of course I do, Leo,” Raph rumbled, holding his brother close to his chest. He nuzzled the top of his head. “I already did.”

Leo hesitated, fearful of what he had to say next.

“Do you still love me?”

He held his breath, terror more powerful than the Krang or the Prison Dimension pounding against his chest.

Three brothers stared back and smiled.

“Always.”

#my writing #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #non-linear storytelling #disaster twins #portal pals #magnetic duo

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taruruchi · 3 months

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taruru i have a new roman empire and im gonna make it your problem too KJNDSAKA so basically i was thinking of sweeter than fiction (TV on streaming when??) and it's kinda crazy to me how the lyrics reflect the feelings of the fans who stayed w taylor through the two worst times of her life (getting cancelled & getting her masters stolen from her) felt about her during that time, who now get to see her at the biggest she's ever been yet, especially the bridge like "i'll be one of the many saying, 'look at you now, look at you now, now'" and "when they call your name and they put your picture in a frame, you know that i'll be there time and again 'cause i loved you when / when you hit the ground, hit the ground..." 🥺🥺 SCREAMING CRYING SLIDING DOWN THE WALL PUNCHING THE AIR. LIKE. AM I MAKING SENSE TO YOU? 😭 and then she literally opens each eras tour show with "it's been a long time coming but it's you and me, that's my whole world" IM SO ILL 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

STOP DELI YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME ILL TOO AND IT'S 1 AM FOR ME RN THIS ISN'T A GOOD TIMENDJFOSMND

I'M SCREAMING YELLING CURLING UP ONT HE FLOOR WITH YOU LIKE. LIKE

I NEVER THOUGHT OF ANY OF THOSE LINES IN THAT WAY AND NOW THAT YOU'RE SAYING THIS. I'M CRUMPLING LIKE A CAN TO THE FLOOR. YES YOU'RE MAKING SENSE. YES I UNDERSTAND. YES I'M ON MY WAY TO LISTEN TO SWEETER THAN FICTION

I wasn't even a swiftie during those times but that's still making me so emotional. For what reason.

BUT WAIT AREN'T YOU SEEING THE TOUR IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY. DUDE. OMG. YOU GET TO EXPERIENCE ALL THAT IN PERSON 😭😭😭 I was watching the film and tbh I STILL cried when it started I'M NOT REALLY SURE WHY BUT I CRIED. I CAN'T IMAGINE GETTING TO SEE IT?? IN REAL TIME???? IN PERSON???????

Then we also have long live but there's no way we can get into that rn without sobbing our eyes out

#This actually made my brain chemistry change tho like fr #I was going crazy for a good few mins #Thank you for sharing your roman empire 🙏 I will now be thinking about it too #☆ inside taruchi's ask box 💌#☆ a friend!! delicate 🎀

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messythoughtsandscribbledplots · 3 years

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Could you write one where the hero is completely broken by their abusive mentor who believes "cant break what's already broken" so trains him to be broken and all they are good for is hero stuff and the villain finds out...and hero wakes up in the villain's base, no clue how they got there and they notice the villain caring for them gently and lovingly and the hero dosnt understand why because, thanks to the mentor, pure fear and pain and being heroic is all they know/felt/endured...

The hero stumbled back to the base, almost collapsing as they passed through the entrance. They were exhausted, sore, aching, but they had made it home.

Home.

But the hero couldn't rest, not yet, despite how they longed to curl up right there on the floor and sleep off the ache in their limbs. The hero had braced theirself to return here and face their mentor empty-handed, yet still they winced at the sight of the mentor waiting for them, waiting for answers—feet planted firmly apart, shoulders back, arms crossed.

"I let them get away," the hero whispered, leaning against the wall to keep from toppling right over. They hung their head, unable to face the disappointment in that cold, unforgiving stare. "I was hurt, and cornered, and... I ran. The villain... I wasn't ready. They were going to kill me."

"You failed."

The hero whimpered—a small, choked sound—and bit their lip to hold back tears as their mentor approached, each footstep heavy and deliberate. The hero kept their gaze pinned on the floor, wishing they could hide, disappear.

"You were weak."

The hero couldn't bring theirself to speak, couldn't think of what to say. Their mentor was right—the hero was weak. They had one job, one purpose in this life, and they had failed. Again.

"Look at me." The mentor gripped the hero's chin, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, and tilted it up until their eyes locked. Held it there long enough for the hero to read the emotions in those dark eyes—anger, disgust, disappointment—and then, faster than the hero could anticipate, the mentor's fist slammed straight into the hero's face.

The hero screamed, crumpling to the floor.

"Can't even take a punch. Pathetic," the mentor snarled. "Get up."

The hero struggled, arms shaking, to push theirself off the floor, whimpering at the pain that had the corners of their vision going black. Despite it, they obeyed as the mentor instructed them to take off their shirt, to face the wall, to brace their arms above their head.

"Please," the hero whispered. They had already been dealt so much pain today—

But their mind went blank as the first lash broke through their skin, warm blood leaking down their back. They bit their lip to keep from screaming—the mentor liked it when they kept quiet, took the punishment without a sign of weakness. They pushed the pain to the back of their mind, burying it like the mentor had taught them.

Another lash.

"Good," the mentor said, and the hero smiled, and replaced the pain with thoughts of happy things.

Your body is an object. A weapon. Weapons do not feel pain. Weapons cannot be broken.

Another lash. Again, again, again.

By the time the hero passed out from the pain, their palms were bleeding from how hard their nails had dug into the skin, their lip bleeding from how hard they had bitten down to keep from screaming.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When the hero woke, the pain had faded to a dull throbbing from their head to their toes. They kept their eyes shut, wanting to stay in bed for just a moment longer, not quite ready to face the day that awaited them—but the bed they lay in was not their own. The blankets beneath them were soft and fluffy, the mattress thick—a far cry from the scratchy sheets and cardboard-thin mattress on their small cot at home. They opened their eyes to see walls that were blue, not gray, and a large window open to let in a fresh, cool breeze. They didn't have a window at home.

The hero scanned the room and stiffened when they saw the villain, reaching immediately for a weapon that wasn't there. They had been stripped bare, their torso wrapped in bandages, wearing nothing but a clean cotton shirt and pants. Completely and utterly defenseless—and alone with the enemy.

The hero pushed theirself out of bed, ignoring the agony as wounds in their back split open, blood soaking through the bandages.

Bury the pain.

The villain was on their feet in the instant, reaching for the hero. "Stop, you're hurt. You need to rest-"

The hero flinched at the movement, backing away with their teeth gritted.

'Why are you hurting me?' the hero had sobbed when they first started training with the mentor.

'This is for your own good,' their mentor said. 'I will break you so thoroughly that you can never be broken again. You will learn to bury your pain, to not feel it, to let nobody use that weakness against you. They cannot break what is already broken.'

"Where am I?"

"My home," the villain said, gently, carefully.

"How? Why?"

"Your mentor," the villain snarled, nearly spitting out the word before regaining their calm composure, "left you sprawled on the floor like a bloody slab of meat. Unconscious, defenseless, free for the taking."

The hero swallowed down their questions, a nauseating mix of emotions swirling around inside their gut.

"I assume this was supposed to be another test," the villain sighed, after a long moment of silence. "Send you straight into the enemy's hands, already injured and hurting, see if all that training did any good. But I assume you're tired of all the training and tests. You look like you could use a vacation."

The hero stiffened. That's what this was. Another test. Another chance to prove theirself.

"Don't pretend to know anything about me or my training," the hero growled. They squared their shoulders, forcing theirself to meet the villain's eyes with determination instead of fear. "What I'm really tired of is games, so stop playing them. You can trick me and torture me all you want, but I will never tell you what you want to know and I will never surrender to you."

No pain. No fear. No weakness.

They repeated the words silently as the villain drew closer.

No pain. No fear. No weakness.

The hero flinched as the villain's arms wrapped around their body, the villain's hand reaching up to hold the hero's head against their shoulder. This wasn't like any kind of punishment the mentor had given them—it didn't even hurt.

"What are you doing?" the hero hissed, arms hanging limp at their sides.

"It's a hug, dumbass," the villain sighed. "You look like you need one."

"I—wh—I don’t—”

"I'm not playing games, and I'm not going to hurt you. I know you're in a lot of pain, and you've been forced to be strong, all alone," the villain whispered, pulling back to meet the hero's eyes.

"But I'm here for you now, and it doesn’t have to be like that anymore.”

#request #ask #writing #my writing #hero x villain #heroes and villains #writing snippet #story prompt #writing inspiration #hero x villain snippet #writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #short story #flash fiction #writing inspo #writing prompt

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vacant--body · 3 years

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MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: Su!c!de attempt, graphic description of bl00d, mentions of death, medical procedure talk, loss of pregnancy, PTSD, lots and lots of angst, mentions of drinking.

Female!reader, love triangle with Steve and Bucky (kinda?)

Word count: roughly 2,076

Please don't read if any of these warnings will trigger you :)

I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME

✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿

Bucky's eyes snapped open, his advanced hearing honing in on the soft wails coming from down the hall. It was you, it always you. He inhaled sharply and pushed himself out of his warm bed, his dog tags clinking against his bare chest. It gets worse when Steve isn't here; your night terrors. He's the only one that can rock you back to sleep, soothing your tear stained cheeks and calming your raging mind. Bucky isn't very good at it, but he can get the job done.

His door slid open and he walked quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake anybody else up. Tony had to semi soundproof your room. When you first came to live in the compound, your screams would keep everyone up all night. Now only Bucky and Steve could hear your cries, which often made for sleepless nights. But lately it’s been getting better, which he was thankful for. Both for your sake and his sake.

Bucky stopped in front of your door, expecting it to just slide open like it normally does. But it didn't. Confused, he waved his hand in front of the sensor but it didn't budge. "Friday?" He yawned, annoyed. What couldn't Tony just put in normal doors? They're so much simpler. "What's wrong with the door?"

"It seems that Ms. Y/L/N has locked it." Strange. You never lock it.

"Well, unlock it." He snapped back at the AI.

"I cannot. She has over-ridden my capabilities to unlock it."

"What?" Bucky asked, suddenly more awake. The hairs on his arms stood up and a gut wrenching feeling began to churn in his stomach. He could hear you on the other side, still crying. "Y/N!" Bucky yelled pounding on the door. The cries grew harder. "Y/N open the door!"

"Go away!" You screamed. "Just go!" This wasn't a night terror, you were awake. “I don’t need you, Bucky!”

"Friday, get Tony down here." Bucky yelled, pounding on the door again. "Y/N please just open the door! Let me help!"

"Don't need your help." There was the sound of the bathtub starting up. "Just go."

"Bucky,” A tired voice groaned from behind him. Sam. "It's 2:30 in the morning, why in the hell are you screaming."

"Y/N locked us out." He muttered, pressing his ear against the door. He could hear you whimpering on the other side. "Friday can't open it."

"Friday, get Tony-"

"He is on his way." She replied back. "Ms. Y/N also disabled her cameras. I can't see inside there either."

"Y/N!" Bucky tried again, his voice cracking just enough for him to notice. Hopefully not enough for Sam to notice.

"Does someone wanna tell me why I am down here in the middle of the god damn night?" Another voice said behind them.

"Just get the fucking door open." Bucky snarled. Tony took note of the worry and urgency in his voice and unlatched a panel that was next to the door. He moved some wires around and the door hissed open.

Bucky rushed in and the state of your room hit him like a truck. It was a wreak. Your mattress was halfway off of its frame, your dresser was knocked over with all the clothes torn out, and there was a smashed chair in the corner. You had also punched out your mirror, making Bucky's footsteps crunch as he walked through her room. How did he not hear this? Why didn't he wake up? But that's not what bothered Bucky. His nose instantly picked up on a coppery smell that stung the inside of his nostrils, making him instantly nauseous. He pushed into the bathroom, where somehow the cupboard was shoved in front of.

The sight before him was enough to make him cry and vomit at the same time. You were submerged in the bathtub, the water stained a bright red color. A long shard of glass from the mirror was laying on the floor, stained with your crimson blood. Two deep long cuts had been carved into your forearms. The ringing in his ears slowly subsided and he heard the sound of either Tony or Sam dry heaving behind him. He wasn't sure who it was.

"Friday, prep medical bay. Get Banners ass up. Now." He heard Tony growl.

Bucky sunk to his knees, his sweatpants become stained with the blood soaked water that had sloshed over the edge. "Y/N." He muttered. She was pale. Too pale. "Y/N!" He yelled grabbing her by the shoulders. “Open your fucking eyes and look at me!" You didn't open her eyes, the only movement was coming from your chest. You were taking quick short breaths, which Bucky figured wasn't good. "Please don't do this to me, please. I need you, fuck-" He choked back a sob.

"Buck, we have to get her down to-" Before Sam could finish his sentence, Bucky was lifting you out of the water and took off towards the med bay.

Banner was already down there, a suturing kit already laid out. "How much blood has she lost?" He asked immediately as soon as Bucky came barreling through the doorway.

"A lot." Was all he could manage. He carefully laid you down on the cot. His thoughts were going a mile a minute. You were supposed to be getting better. Sam and Banner were supposed to be helping you, the therapy was supposed to be helping. Not killing you. Why wasn’t it helping? Why were you so selfish? How could you do that to us? To me, to Steve. To this whole team?

"Well good thing most of the team is A Positive so we have some on standby for her." Banner said. Bucky wasn't sure if he was talking to him or to himself.

Banner flushed out your wounds with what looked like water, and carefully began to stitch you up. Bucky noticed the slight shaking in his wrist and he pulled your skin together.

"Where is Steve?" Bucky whispered to Tony, not taking his eyes off of Y/N and Banner. For once, you looked like you were at peace. Your features were smoothed and relaxed, nothing like your previous state.

"His teams on their way back. ETA 4 hours." Tony whispered back.

A heavy silence fell over the med bay. Bucky felt drained. He couldn't keep his thought straight in his head, and it was numbing. He just kept asking the same thing. Why? You were doing so good. You were laughing, smiling, and actually making progress to talk to people outside your comfort zone. Of course you were still having night terrors, Sam said those wouldn't go away for a long time. But other than that you were fine. You said you were fine. He couldn't understand why.

Banner was done with one side. He moved over to the other and began to repeat the process, but one of the machines she was hooked up to began beeping rapidly. His head snapped up and his brows furrowed.

"Friday do a full body scan please." He grunted.

"What? What's wrong?" Bucky pleaded, his skin tightening and his stomach doing loops.

"Blood pressure is dropping. Not good." Was all he heard over the several machines firing at once.

"There is hemorrhaging. Location: uterus." Friday said back. "Surgery is recommended."

Banner quickly finished the last of the sutures and yanked your water and blood soaked sweatpants off. There was a large amount of blood pooling in between your legs.

"Bruce what is that?" Bucky yelled rushing over to them. "What's wrong with her, did she stab herself there?" He felt like he was going to vomit.

"Bucky-" He started as he fumbled with some tubing.

"What are you doing to her?!" Bucky yelled again his voice become more and more distressed. "You're gonna kill her please help her!"

"Tony get him the hell out of here!" Banner screamed finally, the Hulks voice peaking behind his anger and frustration.

Bucky was being yanked out of the bay by Sam and Tony. He could fight back easily, fight them off so he could be with you. But his legs were so shaky he could hardly stand on his own two feet. The windows that looked into the bay dimmed and Bucky caught one last look as Banner yanked down Y/N's underwear. A sob escaped from Buckys lips as he crumpled to the ground. What was happening now? Y/N must be so scared. He was so scared.

He felt that hot tears prick at his cheeks and dribbled down into his beard hair. He was crying. Crying for the first time in who knows how long. He couldn't loose you. You were the only one who truly understood Bucky. You meant too much to him.

"Buck-" Sam started but Bucky just cut him off.

"Leave me alone." He sobbed. It felt like a metal pipe had been shoved down Buckys throat. He couldn’t breathe. "Please just go away." Tony and Sam shared a look before the disappeared down the hallway.

He sat there for what seemed like days. But it was only hours. Soon enough Steve came jogging down the hallway to where Bucky sat.

"Buck." Steve gasped, kneeling down next to him. "What happened?"

"I thought she was having a night terrors." Bucky's voice was raw and it hurt to swallow. The crying must have stopped hours ago, but he couldn't remember when it ended. "But she locked me out. Tried to...tried to..."

"Oh god." Steve whimpered, understanding what he was saying. “Is she...?" Bucky shook his head.

"She started bleeding. I think Banners still doing surgery." Steve's face was screwed tightly together as he stood back up. Bucky couldn't tell what he was feeling. He paced the hallway for a bit before he slid down against the wall across from Bucky, his eyes blankly staring at the door. He could see the trembling in his chest when he inhaled.

They sat there in silence for about another hour, when suddenly, the doors to the med bay swung open. Banners eyes fell on them. He sighed heavily and put his hands in his pockets.

"What? What is it?" Bucky pleaded getting to his feet, which caused Steve to stand up.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked, his brows closely knit together.

"Yeah. She's stable. Woke up for a few minutes but she's sleeping now. I had to give her some medicine to calm her down. And I had to..." He trailed off. "Restrain her. She's very agitated." Bruce exhaled and wrung his hands together.

"Then what happened? Why did you have to do surgery." Bucky prodded. He could tell Banner was hiding something.

"The bleeding was caused by a mixture of shock and her blood pressure tanking. I couldn't-" He cleared his throat like he was keeping back tears. "I couldn't save the fetus. She miscarried."

It felt like someone had punched Bucky in the gut. Fetus? Miscarried? She was pregnant?

"From what I could tell she was about 15 weeks along. I ran the DNA because I wasn't...I wasn't sure who the father was."

"I had a child?" Steve whimpered. Tears were falling freely down his face.

"No, Steve.” He whispered softly. “Bucky, it was yours.”

"What? No. That's impossible." Steve scoffed. "You must have your science shit mixed up. There is no way."

"No, he's right." Bucky whispered, absolute shocking talking grip of his body.

"I'm sorry. It was a boy."

"What? No. No! It's wrong. Go test it again Banner! I know it's wrong!"

"Steve-"

"You were fucking her?!" Steve screamed, turning to Bucky. "You knew I was in love with her and you were fucking her?!"

"It was once Steve! Almost 3 months ago! We were drunk and you were away on a mission and I came onto her!" Bucky bargained, staring into the flames of his best friend’s eyes.

"You fucked my girl! My girl!" Steve was irate, barely able to contain himself.

"She isn't yours Steve, you're not even together!"

"I told her that I loved her! And you went and fucked her anyway! What, do you always follow your dick!? I bet that's why she refuses to look at you!"

"No, she told me that she loved me!" Bucky screamed back, his voice echoing in the hallway as silence washed over them. Bucky took a deep breath. "She said it first. And I told her it was a mistake and should be with you." He said quietly.

Steve let out an animalistic growl, and his fist made contact with the side of Bucky's cheek and the back of his head smashed against the wall.

"I love you Bucky." Y/N's soft voice said. Your head was currently buried in Bucky's bare chest. "It's you. It's always has been." You whispered.

Bucky reached down and cupped her cheek, making you look at him. He has been waiting to hear that since they first met. He didn't believe in love at first sight but ever since he first laid eyes on you, he started to believe.

"You don't mean that, doll." He muttered back. Alcohol was still running its course through their bodies. "You're drunk."

"Drunk words are a sober mans thoughts."

"Y/N-"

"I want you Bucky. Just you. No more going back and forth between you and Steve. I can't do that anymore, Bucky. Please believe me." You pleaded, your large eyes staring into his.

"You deserve someone like Steve, not like me. You can't love me." He sighed, letting go of your face.

"I love Steve. He’s amazing and kind, but I love I have for him isn’t like how I love you.”

"No. You love the thought of me." He snapped, rising off the bed. "But you don't love me Y/N. I promise you, you don't. You shouldn't." He gathered his clothes from the floor and shimmied into them. He reached the door and stopped at the sound of your voice.

"But-" Bucky winced at the sound of your voice as it was filling with tears.

"I'm sorry." He whispered turning away, his own eyes brimming with tears. "I don't deserve you. You can't love me. I'm sorry."

part 2

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justsomeclintasha · 2 years

Text

“Your enemies or mine?”

“Does it matter at this point?

“What are you all worked up about? You’ve escaped worse situations than this.”

“I didn’t have to worry about your stupid ass.”

“Aw you’re worried about me? That’s cute, Nat.” A smile twitches at the edge of her busted lip. “You alright though?”

“Of course I am. We’ll be out of here within the hour. I’m sure Coulson is-“ The sound of footsteps in the hallway redirect that thought. The man who pushes open the door is somewhat familiar to her, but she can’t place him. He almost looks like… No. Impossible. The doctor should be dead. A shiver runs through her and he smirks.

“So you do remember me, Natalia. Long time no see.”

“Not long enough.�� The backtalk earns her a punch to the jaw. It’s intentional. The focus has to remain on her. She spits blood on the floor. “Still experimenting on little girls?”

“I’ve moved on. Looks like you have too.” He nods towards Clint, who, thankfully, knows to keep his mouth shut. He’s already noticed the way she’s tapping her fingers against the chair where she’s bound. She doesn’t have nervous ticks. It’s a warning.

“Work partner,” she replies with a casual shrug. He laughs, grabbing her chin and twisting her head to meet his eyes. Don’t flinch. Breathe.

“You know what I always hated about you, Natalia? That you’re such a fucking liar.”

“Didn’t seem to hate me when you crawled into my room at night,” she hisses as he turns away, but he ignores the comment. Clint doesn’t. His hands tighten into fists.

“I’ve been experimenting with some new chemicals. Let’s see how your precious archer does without his sight.” He pulls a bottle of liquid from his coat, filling a dropper with it. She looks at Clint, silently reassuring him it’s okay, they’re going to get out, they’re going to- fuck. She frantically pulls on the bonds. They’re too tight. He can’t hide the raw panic on his face as the doctor moves toward him.

“Leave him alone! Do it to me instead!”

“Don’t worry. This won’t hurt. Much.” He forces his eyes open and drips in the liquid. For a moment everything is silent. Then the room fills with screams.

XXXXX

“Natasha, I got you. Breathe.” There’s no air in the room and she’s freezing. Her knees shake. She can’t get the sound out of her head. Please make it stop. She drops into a chair, unable to hold herself upright. Coulson crouches in front of her. “Natasha?”

She grabs onto his shoulders, knuckles white against the fabric of his suit coat. Is this what a breakdown looks like? She raises her head. Nothing could have prepared him for the anguish in her eyes, the tears running down her cheeks.

“It’s all my fault.”

XXXXX

“Nat?”

“I’m here.” A shaky breath leaves his lips as she touches his shoulder. He hasn’t tried to open his eyes yet. “The nurse said you should be able to-“

“What if I can’t?”

“You can.”

“What if I can never-“ His voice cracks and she rubs her knuckles over his chest, encouraging another deep breath. “Will you stay with me?”

“I’m right here.”

“I’m scared,” he whispers, the confession echoing in the stillness of the room.

“On the count of three?” He nods. “One.. t-two.. three.”

Before he can change his mind, his eyes are open and staring into hers. Instantly his face crumples and he pulls her against him, sobbing into her neck.

“I can see you, I can see you, I can see you.” He repeats it like a mantra, unable to hold back the waves of emotion. They crash into her chest and she’s crying along with him until they both run out of tears. Finally exhausted, they lay back in bed, curled up in each other’s arms. He wants to keep looking at her, but the drugs are seeping back in and his eyes are closing. “Stay.”

“Always.”

#clintasha #clintasha fanfic #clint barton x natasha romanoff

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dreamsclock · 3 years

Note

Hey so... Dream's emotional support cat died in prison? I dont know if you are comfortable but can you maybe write something with Syndicate Dream's cat? Mabye it dies, or it gets hurt? Or just anything with the cat, I am hurting :)

TW: animal death, death, suicidal thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self destructive behaviour, emotional distress, angst

“Dream?” Techno asks from behind the door, drumming his fingers awkwardly on his leg. “Dream, you can’t stay in there forever, you know.”

There’s no sound from inside the room. Techno curses internally, pushes on.

“I know you’re upset: believe me, I know. But— listen, you can’t hole yourself up in your room. It’s been two days, alright? You’ve gotta come out eventually.”

And he’s getting worried about how true that statement is, because it’s been two days, and Dream hasn’t emerged once to eat or to sleep or to talk, and it’s beginning to make Techno think he’s never going to appear again. Philza is far more optimistic than he is: “he’ll come round,” he’d said only hours before, eyes tired, determined, “he just needs time.”

But Techno has a feeling he needs something more than time. So he knocks at the door again, heart heavy in his chest, and is rewarded with the sound of something crashing in Dream’s room, something getting knocked to the floor in a flurry of emotion. Taking that as his cue, Techno pushes open the door, and is met with chaos.

The room is dark, except from bright light lined up along one wall that hurts his eyes. Wincing, turning away from it automatically, Techno takes in the rest of the room — yeah, a mess, though he hadn’t expected anything different. Furniture shattered, upturned, a hole in the wall he’s unsure if it had come from a kick or punch or something worse... Anxiety rising, instincts kicking in, he turns at the last moment out of the way of a stone axe slicing by him, flattening against a wall to avoid it.

Dream has looked a lot better. Eyes wild, red-rimmed and glassy and trapped in a different time, he swings at Techno again, only just managing to miss. In an instant, Techno has his own axe out; netherite, enchanted, and is pushing Dream’s axe out of his way, fight-or-flight mode kicking in for a moment. Dream doesn’t stand a chance with a stone axe — he’s going to die if he continues this fight.

And then, when Dream hits him with the axe viciously, face contorting into desperation, Techno equips a shield instead, putting away his axe with effort.

Because a fight is exactly what Dream wants. Maybe even what he thinks he needs: he wants to hurt someone, something, and Techno is the only one around.

Because Techno doesn’t trust this version of Dream, whose recovery has been set back so many steps with one single event, not to want to die, so he parries with a shield. And when he sees Dream’s furious bewilderment, when he sees him redouble his attacks, he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. Dream wants him to kill him. And when has Techno ever given his rival what he wants?

“Why aren’t you fighting?” Dream croaks, voice shot to hell. “I’m going to kill you.”

Techno observes him, easily deflecting another blow. “Nah,” he says easily, “you’re not. I’m not lame. You can’t manage.”

Another blow, and, with it, a snarl from Dream.

“Fight back!”

It’s effort to resist, but Techno does so, shielding himself when necessary and very stubbornly refusing to fight back. Chat is screaming in his ears, thousands upon thousands of voices whispering kill him and blood for the blood god and he deserves to die, but Techno thinks of Phil, and thinks of Dream’s first smile a few months back, uncertain but happy, and resists giving in.

Dream has shitty coping mechanisms, but he’s not evil. Nobody deserves to die.

(Heh, he thinks, sardonically, maybe Ranboo is rubbing off on him.)

And Dream tires quickly; crumpled, like a marionette, staggers to the floor in confused sobs and broken gasps. Techno crouches beside him, very careful not to touch him or to speak, but just be a grounding presence, as much as he can.

“I don’t— I don’t get it,” Dream chokes out, “you didn’t kill me. You should have killed me. I want to kill you.”

“What, so you can go back to cutting off all your attachments and being emo?” Techno asks, and doesn’t mention Dream’s violent flinch at attachments. “Look, you’ve suffered enough. You— You lost family, okay? You lost something you cared about. But you can’t go about it in this way, man.”

Dream’s bloodshot, desperate eyes meet his. “I want to hurt them for killing her,” he whispers, “I want to— hurt them, hurt myself, hurt something.”

“I know.” Techno says, simply, because he does. “But you’ll regret it later after you’ve regained your senses. Trust me.” He thinks of L’Manburg, of Doomsday; of Tommy’s distress upon seeing his home destroyed, and frowns. “It won’t make you feel much better. Not in the long run.”

And, finally, Dream is crumbling, switching from one extreme to the other; his anger and vengeance is replaced with consuming grief that has him sobbing like Techno doesn’t think he ever has before, struggling to breathe and uncertain if he wants to. All Techno can do is guide him through it: talk him through breathing again, his voice awkward, steady, a count of numbers that rise and fall with the ragged heave of Dream’s chest.

Quiet. Finally, quiet, after a couple of minutes. Dream’s trembling, but his breathing is normal, if stricken, and he’s hidden his face in his hands. Techno moves back, getting to his feet and watching Dream try to pull himself back together.

“Grieving is natural,” he says, quiet, not thinking of Wilbur, not thinking about Tommy, “but you can’t let it consume you. You’ve gotta keep moving forward.”

“Wisp.” It’s a tiny, tiny word, but Dream’s voice is tinier, agonised and raw. “I promised her I’d protect her.”

Techno swallows. “You can’t protect everyone, Dream. Some things happen no matter how much you try, and— And that doesn’t mean you should stop forming attachments.”

“How do you bear it?” Dream asks, miserable.

“....Because you have to.” Techno turns his mind from watching Philza kill Wilbur, frowning into the distance. “Because it’s all part of being human, you know: you lose people— pets, you grieve, you pick yourself back up again. Things get better. It’s a cycle.”

Dream doesn’t reply for a long moment. “I don’t want to be part of the cycle,” he whispers, “I don’t want to be human if this is how it feels.”

“Hey, no, no, don’t stay that.” In alarm, Techno fixes him with a firm look. “You’re going to pull through this, because you have to. Do it for—“

Me, he wants to say, but focuses on the white cat he’d seen so often glued to Dream’s shoulders or lap, purring softly.

“—Do it for Wisp,” he says after a pause, and Dream’s lip trembles, “you have to push on for her. Promise me.”

Dream shatters like he’d been designed to; softly, without resistance. “I promise,” he sobs, and Techno sits back down awkwardly with him. When Dream reaches out to grab hold of his sleeve, desperate for some connection, Techno doesn’t resist — he sits quietly with him until Dream has cried himself to sleep, and long after he’d woken back up, too.

(And when Dream falteringly comes to the kitchen for lunch the next day, exhausted and grieving but while, Philza greets him normally and pulls him into unsteady conversation. Ranboo is quiet, relieved to see Dream and not wanting to push him on the subject of his cat. Techno buries his nose deeper into his book, nudges Dream lightly with his leg under the table in greeting.)

(He gets a faint nudge back, and that’s how Techno knows Dream will pull through.)

#> my asks !!#> my writing !!#> syndicate dream au #tw death #tw animal death #tw unhealthy coping mechanisms #tw self destructive behavior #tw suicide mention #tw suicide #tw emotional distress #angst

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thebluewritingbench · 3 years

Text

the wrong side of a second

or, how 5x8 might have gone if Lena didn't succeed in turning off Mount Norquay's Kryptonite cannons on time

A tribute to Lena at her worst, if a few extra seconds had put her beyond forgiveness. It's an angsty one - cw for major character death, if that's something you'd rather avoid at all costs

(also on ao3, if that's more your speed)

The walls of the cell are white, clean, pristine. Three blank, empty, one of glass. There’s a bench, long enough to lie down on, too hard to be comfortable.

Lena stares at the white walls. They’re bright enough to make her eyes hurt, but she can’t look away from them. Can’t blink. If she blinks, she’ll see the moment again. Her eyes sting from the effort of holding them open for so long.

They separated her and Hope the moment they arrived at the DEO. Lena doesn’t really remember how they got back here. She doesn’t remember anything after the blast hit, after the sky lit up with green like the Northern Lights, after the screaming started. Her screaming. She was the one screaming. She’s not sure why she isn’t still lying crumpled on the floor on the bunker, like she should be.

There were strong arms grabbing her the second they appeared, guns pointed at them from all directions. Cuffs being pressed into her wrists. She’s not sure why they bothered. She wasn’t trying to escape. She’s here of her own volition.

She’s still wearing the clothes she was wearing at the bunker. The ponytail is so tight that her head aches, but she doesn’t bother trying to pull it out.

She wonders if she can just die, right here, right now, if she uses enough willpower.

She’s so cold that it might as well be her lying in the snow at the bottom of a mountain.

Footsteps approach her cell, loud and echoing through the hallway. She doesn’t look away from the wall when the person comes to a halt in front of her cell, but their shadow blocks out some of the brightest light.

“Last I heard, she was heading to Mount Norquay to stop you,” says Alex. “So, I’m going to ask now, calmly. Where is Supergirl?”

Lena sucks in a breath. Maybe this was why she came back. There was this to do.

This one last horrible thing. This living nightmare of a thing.

She opens her mouth, doesn’t remember any words. She closes it again. There’s bile at the back of her throat. Alex allows her a long, hearty pause before she speaks again.

“We’ve got your little… mind-controlled slave locked up. She refuses to tell us anything. So, I’m asking you. Where the fuck is my sister.”

My sister. It’s the first time she’s heard Alex use those words to refer to Supergirl. Lena closes her eyes, desperate to escape Alex’s voice. As soon as she does, the inside of her eyelids fill with green, and she watches the tiny figure in the center of a sea of neon arch, convulse, fall, down down down. She sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, wrenching her eyes open.

“Supergirl is dead,” she says, looking directly at Alex. “I killed her.”

Every muscle in Alex’s body goes perfectly still. “What?”

“The cannons at Mount Norquay. They were Kryptonite. I tried to turn them off. I wasn’t fast enough.”

Alex’s hands are starting to shake. “You’re lying,” she says.

Yes, Lena wants to say. I just wanted to hurt you, for a moment. It’s not real. “No,” she says instead. “I’m not.”

“Luthor. Tell me you’re fucking lying.” The shaking has moved up her arms.

I wish I could. “I’m not lying. What reason would I have to lie?”

“Kara is not fucking dead. You didn’t kill her, you hear me? She’s survived way worse than you. Do you know the kind of things she’s survived? You’re not powerful enough to kill Supergirl. You’re deluding yourself to think that you could be,” she spits out her words, venomous in the same insidious, green way as Kryptonite.

Lena can’t close her eyes. She can’t look away, back at the white walls. She can’t look down at her lap, like a child scolded. She can’t do anything but stare into Alex’s eyes and watch the rapid rise and fall of her shoulders, the twisting of her facial expressions. She doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say. Words stick to the dry roof of her mouth.

Something in Alex’s face shifts more panicked with each moment of silence that ticks by. Lena swallows, digs her nails hard into her palms. Alex’s fist bangs into the glass in front of her, and it shudders. Lena flinches.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“They were Lex’s cannons,” says Lena, her voice unsteady, and each word takes a mountain’s worth of effort. “He didn’t design them to incapacitate. He designed them to kill. I could have disabled them, if I’d just had a few more seconds. It would have only taken a few more seconds.”

“A few more seconds,” Alex repeats blankly.

There have been so many instances in their lives when a few seconds made the difference between life and death. So many instances where they just managed to come out on the right side of those few seconds, just managed to keep everyone safe.

This time, they came out on the wrong side.

“Lena,” says Alex. “Tell me my little sister isn’t dead. Tell me you didn’t kill Kara.”

Lena looks down at her hands. The response that comes to the tip of her tongue is I didn’t mean to, but it’s too juvenile, too blameless. “I can’t.”

“Fucking hell,” says Alex, turning away, digging her hands into her hair. “God, fuck.” She whips back around to face Lena. “I thought you were on our side! I thought you were someone we could trust! Kara thought you were someone we could trust! Do you know how many times she’s stuck her neck out for you? Risked her identity? Risked everything?” She’s yelling, and it vibrates in Lena’s bones. She wants to flinch, wants to close her eyes and wait for it to be over like she has every time it’s been Lex or Lillian, but she can’t. She can’t, because this time it’s her fault. This time she deserves it.

Lex would be proud of her, she realizes. Lex would be delighted that his weapon worked so well.

How far she has fallen.

“She’s not dead,” says Alex. “You’re lying, and you’re despicable, and Kara is not dead.”

“She is, Alex,” says Lena, leaning forwards, and she’s shaking too, can’t get it out of her voice or her lungs. “She is, she is, Kara’s dead. I watched the cannons go off. I watched her fall. I saw her hit the ground. I saw it, I saw it all, and I wasn’t fast enough to stop it, I would have stopped it. All I needed was a few more seconds. Just a few.”

She feels the few seconds in her chest, a deep, hollow, aching squeezing. If she’d only been a little bit faster. If only she’d never pressed deploy. If only she’d never gone to Mount Norquay. If only she’d confronted Kara at the beginning. If only she’d known all along.

If only, if only.

“I don’t believe you,” says Alex, shaking her head.

“I wish I was lying. God, I wish I was lying.”

“She’s my sister. She’s my sister and you killed her, you killed her.”

“I know,” says Lena, and she’s starting to cry. “I know, I know.”

“Don’t fucking cry,” says Alex, slamming her fist into the glass beside Lena’s head again. “You’re not allowed to fucking cry, do you hear me? You lost that right! You lost that right when you blasted my little sister out of the goddamn sky! This is your fault, this is all your fault!”

“I know,” Lena sobs.

“Stop fucking saying that!” Alex yells. “Stop it, just stop it, just…” She turns abruptly on her heel and strides away, and Lena thinks that she’s finally going to leave and let her hate herself in peace, but Alex stops before she can round the corner. She’s still for several moments, her breathing loud and harsh, and then she turns again to face Lena.

“You want to know what the worst part is? She was in love with you. And I know she was fucking obtuse about it, but I also know that you weren’t. You knew that she was in love with you. You knew that you were in love with her. You knew, and you still…? How could you still…?”

“I wanted to hurt her,” Lena whispers. “I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me, and then I didn’t want anyone to hurt ever again.”

“You wanted to hurt her? So you killed her? So you left her rotting in the snow at the base of your little mountain fortress? Because I sure as hell don’t remember her doing any of that to you.”

The childish words slip out before she can stop them, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t mean to? Does that fucking matter?She’s dead either way, isn’t she? Your intentions don’t mean shit, this isn’t something you can just apologize for and get fixed! It’s not one of your little basement experiments that we all stayed silent about because Kara insistedyour intentions were good. You can’t just say sorry and cry into her arms to fix this, Lena.”

And there’s nothing she can say, no defense to Alex’s words, so she just stares at her hands and shakes and sobs quietly, tears streaming hot and fast down her face and falling into her lap in a steady drip.

“Stop it,” screams Alex, anguished, composure gone. “Fucking stop it!”

“I can’t,” Lena chokes out. “I can’t, I can’t.”

She can tell by the fury that’s radiating off Alex that she wants to shake Lena, or slap her, or punch her into the ground, but that’s she’s holding herself back because she knows that it won’t be satisfying. Knows that Lena won’t fight back, that she’ll just take it quietly.

There’s nothing Lena could do or say right now to make any of this better. There’s no better to this situation.

“What kind of person does that? What kind of person kills the only other person in the world that they truly love? What kind of person could bear to let that happen?” says Alex, hollow.

“You think I can bear it?” says Lena. She runs her fingernails down her arms, sharp, repeats the motion, repeats again.

“I think you’re going to have to,” says Alex, and her voice takes on a sharp, ugly quality as she steps back towards the cell. “Because I sure as hell am not going to let you die. Oh, don’t give me that look,” she says, when Lena looks up, startled. “Believe me, I want to kill you. I don’t think there would be anything more satisfying in the world right now than taking you out myself and letting you rot. But that would be too merciful for you. You would just… get away without any of the consequences. No, Lena, I hope you live a long, miserable life, and that every second is consumed by thinking about what you’ve done. You’ve annihilated one of the only things that still gave people hope in this world. You were trying to prevent people from being able to feel hurt again? That’s all they’ll feel now, because of you. You didn’t just kill Supergirl, you just killed every single person that she would have saved for the rest of her life. That’s their blood on your hands, too. That’s their families that you destroyed.”

Lena thinks she might throw up. She doesn’t remember how to breathe properly. It sits ragged in her throat, choking her.

Alex isn’t done.

“God, and I hope every second of your life is consumed with the knowledge that you killed the only thing that could ever have made you genuinely happy. Because do you honestly believe that anyone else will ever be capable of loving you the way she was? With your family? With the shit that you’ve done? Kara was willing to look past that. She did every day. She would have forgiven you for this, had she survived. She would have fought for you back. And she can’t do that anymore. Because of you.”

Lena’s drowning. Every word that comes out of Alex’s mouth is like another needle in her skin, lining her flesh and her throat and her the inside of her organs and she can’t even tune them out or deny them because every word she says is true. Kara was the only person who believed she was good, unconditionally.

“It was wrong,” says Alex, dangerously quiet, back outside the cell now. “It was wrong of Kara not to tell you she was Supergirl earlier. I’ll be the first to admit that. But she was willing to put in the work to fix it. She would have done everything in her power to fix it, and you weren’t even willing to try. You self-destruct, Lena, and that’s one hundred percent on you.”

God, she’s so stupid. How was she ever this stupid? How did she get here? How did she let this happen? She might still be crying—her eyes are certainly still blurred, but her skin is too numb to feel the tears. She doesn’t even feel like her body belongs to her anymore.

“Don’t just sit there,” Alex says. “Say something. Just… fucking say something!”

“What do you want me to say?” Lena says, and it’s like her voice is coming from someone else. “That you’re right? You are. Of course you are, you’re right about all of it. This is my fault, all of this is my fault, and there’s nothing—nothing I can do.”

“I changed my mind,” says Alex. She slides down the wall beside Lena’s cell, digs her hands into her hair again, curling in on herself. “I don’t want to hear your voice.”

Lena closes her eyes. The moment the cannons went off starts to play again behind her eyelids on repeat. Flash of green, sickly green. Tiny figure, blonde hair, flopping like a ragdoll, dropping like a stone. She glowed, when the cannons hit her. Like every single one of her veins and arteries and capillaries lit up with Kryptonite, all at once. Like a broken glowstick. She glowed, suspended a thousand feet in the air, her arms splayed like she was taking it all in willingly. It plays again and again behind Lena’s eyes, and she doesn’t feel like she has the right to stop watching. It’s her prison to endure.

Alex voice breaks through, soft and awful and crackling. “It’s sick. It’s really sick, but I wish you were happy about it. I wish you were happy with yourself so I could hate you more. But you’re so… pathetic. You’re so fucking pathetic, how can you hate someone who’s so pathetic? Who am I supposed to hate when you’re like this? It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” Lena says, and it’s not even the tiniest dent in the way she feels.

“I know. That’s the problem. I wish you weren’t. It would be easier if you weren’t.”

Lena stays silent. It’s despicable, but she doesn’t want Alex to leave. She doesn’t want to be alone. She wants… god, all she wants is for Kara to be here. She wants Kara’s arms around her, warm and comforting, steady and real. She wants to bury her face in the crook of Kara’s neck, breathe in her shampoo, cry herself to sleep on her shoulder. She wants Kara’s lips on the top of her forehead, brushing soft, whispering reassurances into her skin.

She wants, and she’ll never have, never again.

And it’s her fault.

It hits her suddenly, in a way it somehow hasn’t before, and the pain in her stomach is so intense that she has to wrap her arms tight around her middle to stop herself from falling apart, has to fold forward as she gasps out sobs, loud and harsh. She’s not sure it’ll ever stop. Behind her eyes, Kara falls, she keeps falling, she hasn’t stopped.

“I don’t how to do this if I can’t hate you,” Alex says, over Lena’s sobs, and Lena can hear in her voice that she’s crying too, even if her vision is too obscured to see it. “I can’t do this if I don’t have anger to lean on. I just want to hate you. I just want to hate you.”

Please hate me, Lena wants to say. She’s crying too hard to speak, it’s hurting the inside of her throat, like each sob is ripping something. Hate me all you want. You’ll never be able to hate me as much as I hate myself.

She doesn’t need to say it. Alex knows.

She must cross some line into hysteria, because she wakes up with the heavy feeling that she’s been under sedation for a long time. She’s in the same cell, lying on her back on the hard bed and staring up at the ceiling. Her chest is hollow; someone’s scooped out everything from inside her ribs.

It feels like the end of time.

“Are you awake?” asks Alex’s voice, scratchy. She’s sitting outside Lena’s cell, arms wrapped around her knees. It looks like she slept there.

“Yes,” says Lena. If this is what awake is.

Alex looks away. She drums an uneven pattern on floor with her fingertips. Her hair is sticking up at the back.

“Why are you still here?” croaks Lena. “It’s because of me that your sister is dead.”

“I know,” says Alex. “I wish I could kill you for it.”

“Why don’t you?”

Alex looks over, and she’s aged about forty years overnight. “You’re the only person who loved her as much as I did.”

Lena laughs, humourless, at the ceiling, because if that just isn’t the most fucked up thing she’s ever heard in her life. “Well, fuck me.”

At some point, Alex is going to have to get up and leave. She’ll be able to seek solace in her other friends, in the other people who love Kara. And Lena will be moved somewhere more permanent. She’ll let them take her. She won’t struggle. She hopes there’s no trial, but if there is, she’ll plead guilty.

For now, they both just stare at the ceiling, at exposed dirty grey pipes, as the DEO rumbles around them.

Somewhere far away, Kara lies in the snow, crumpled and green and more peaceful than they’ll ever be again.

#supergirl #supercorp #i mean not rlly but #supergirl fanfic #lena luthor #alex danvers #kara danvers #cw major character death #i was enabled into writing this on discord #pls feel free to yell at me if you decided to put yourself through this for some reason #angst angst angst #this whole thing is just undiluted angst #sometimes i like to write things that hurt okay #bluewritingbench writes

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wisterialagoon · 3 years

Text

For you, I'll Stay : Pt.2

Dabi is one of the top soldiers of the League of Villains. He does the dirty work and feels the stain of crime on his hands. You're an Assistant Inspector at the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, resigned to records-keeping instead of doing actual fieldwork. What happens when these two become intertwined in the most prominent political event that changed the era of 1990's Tokyo Japan?

Warnings: Violence (a girl gets beat up in this chapter), gangs, eventual smut(not in this chapter tho)

Btw, in this dabi doesn't have any scars on his face!

Azabu Gardens,

Moto-Azabu 3-7-5 Minato-ku, Tokyo 106-0046.

January 9, 1990, Tuesday.

The League

20:00 hours

The first rays of the morning began to creep into the premises of their mansion, illuminating the entirety of their eight-hectare complex. The lawn had been freshly mowed and the foyer had been polished to sparkling clean, as per the orders of their leader. It had been his first order of business during the general assembly with the entire brotherhood.

The soldiers were understandably taken aback at hearing him rattle off a list of things to do which were, in essence, house chores. From checking the car engines, laundering their clothes, and stocking up on groceries, the loyal members followed everything down to the very last detail, albeit with a little curiosity as to why they were doing this when they were supposed to be preparing for a major operation set later in the day.

Meanwhile the boss carried out everything as if it was business as usual. They had convened at their usual 10:00 am meeting at the solarium, exchanging data and intel regarding any updates on their framework's current phase. After making sure that everything was in order–from the time it would take to execute the operation to the time it would take for the police to arrive on scene, they called it a day and retired to their own rooms.

That was this morning.

Preparations were over and it was almost nearing midnight–time to start the show.

Everyone had gotten dressed in the same all-black attire, distinguished only by the formality of their suit and quality of the fabric. The leader had worn a two-piece suit, while the soldiers only had lightweight turtlenecks to pair with their slacks.

The cars were ready by the driveway, it's trunks loaded with a series of guns, masks and the deactivate system; and everyone had lined up at the foyer, at the foot of the grand staircase, awaiting the greeting and instructions of their boss.

"Good evening gentlemen," his voice didn't have that booming quality that most of his leaders had, but the clarity of his diction and richness of his timbre proved sufficient to command everyone's attention. He didn't need any of the pomp or fanfare that was usually associated with the league–his presence alone was enough.

There weren't many of them tonight, it was a small operation that needed only seven of their best men; even so, his under-boss, and the rest of his soldiers were waiting with bated breath at what he was about to say.

Finally standing by the newel post, he slowly slips on his leather gloves and begins to address their small unit.

"A rundown Kurogiri," he instructs his under-boss, with not so much as a glance spared his way.

"Today we initiate phase 2.1 of our framework," Kurogiri steps out of the line and proceeds to hand out a file on their operation and walkie-talkies to the soldiers. "Team A, Touya and Atsuhiro, will take care of the decoy. Team B, Himiko and Jin, will secure the target. Team C, Magne and Spinner, will deactivate the sensors and tip the police," he finishes, working his way back to his position beside their leader.

Tomura looks at him with a quirked eyebrow, expectant.

Kurogiri clears his throat. "Phase 2.2 of the framework will begin immediately after."

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

21:30 hrs.

As soon as Kurogiri parked the car in an empty lot two blocks from the site, he turned on their linked communication system and radioed to their leader that they were ready.

"Masks and Positions," Tomura instructed."Remember, one slip up will cost the entire operation."

Save for the thrumming of the engine, their leaders voice was the only thing that had cut through the nights silence.

"Yep, Tomura everyone is positioned," Kurogiri confirms, and signals to Team A that they were good to go.

As soon as they were given the signal, Touya and Atsuhiro make their way to the site, with the latter updating Tomura about their position. "Currently making my way into the Takahashi Residence along with Touya."

As they stopped to confirm that it was indeed the residence of the Minister of National Defence, their leader warns, "Keep an eye out for the security Atsuhiro," both soldiers nod their assent, replying that they located a blind spot in the houses security system and private guards.

After signalling Team B to follow, Kurogiri had set up operations control with Magne and Spinner. Just as they had gotten access into the house's security system, Tomura radios, "Kurogiri, do you copy?"

"Yes, I copy," the under-boss replies, holding the walkie-talkie in one hand and the other sifting through the nights operation file.

"Do you have a visual on the Minister and his wife?" Tomura asks.

"Yes," he turns around to look at Magne and Spinners surveillance feed, which was focused on the master bedroom.

"They're currently separated from the decoy."

"Good." Tomura affirms. "Magne, when Atsuhiro, Touya, Jin and Himiko are in place you'll override the security system, understand?"

"Understood!" the soldier nods while simultaneously preparing all the codes needed to deactivate the system.

"Once Touya and Atsuhiro take care of the decoy, that's when Himiko and Jin will go and search for the target," Tomura reminds, looking over at his copy of the operation file as well.

"Spinner, monitor all frequencies from a two-kilometre radius of the site. If anyone reports anything before we do then I want to hear it. If anyone is even in the middle of dialling a government or police number, I want to be the first to know, understood?"

"Gotcha boss," Spinner confirms. "The hacking system is ready to go, all lines within a two-kilometre radius is tapped as well."

21:42 hours.

After a preliminary entry into the estate, the four soldiers settle in their own entry points and radio back. "Spinner, we're in place, you can drop the security."

"Alright. You have a little over thirty minutes before the back-up security kicks in," the enthusiastic man programmes a few codes and counts backwards, "it's down in...5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

"Go." A deep voice follows, alerting the four soldiers on-site.

For a second, Team A and B thought it has been their leader who had addressed them, but immediately broke out into grins when the voice followed with, "Be careful in there guys."

''Don't worry, Kurogiri." Jin assures, giving Himiko, Atsuhiro and Touya a thumbs up. "We've got this"

The four soldiers discreetly jump over the deactivated sensors and immediately break into action, disarming the guards and eventually knocking them unconscious by landing considerably hard blows to their neck, causing their head to snap to the side.

After slipping past the unconscious guards, Atsuhiro and Touya pry open one of the windows, climbing in quietly while Himiko and Jin wait outside.

Team A immediately proceeds to the target's room, bolting the maid's quarters from the outside after unfortunately having to knock her out as well.

The two check their copy of the house's floor plan, with Touya sending a glance to Atsuhiro before slowly opening the door into one of the mansion's bedrooms.

In the room sat 18-year old Takahashi Yua. with her back facing Atsuhiro and Touya slowly the boys made their way to her and in mere seconds Atsuhiro had his hands over Yua's mouth and held her in place.

The shocked girl could do nothing but try to thrash around and scream for help but Touya tied her hands and gagged her.

Touya then raised a fist, about to hit the girl before he was quickly stopped by Atsuhiro "Dabi, not here, let's take it outside. "

Nodding in agreement, Touya helped Atsuhiro drag the silently sobbing girl back outside from where they came from, leading to the back of the house and into the garage.

Seeing Touya and Atsuhiro leave with Yua allowed Himiko and Jin to make their way inside and find their operations primary objective, leaving Team A to deal with the girl.

"Compress, take off the gag," Touya instructed, to which Atsuhiro nodded and quickly removed the bundle of cloth that had been choking the girl.

As soon as it had been done, Touya struck her across the cheek with a force that pushed her backwards. It was a strong enough blow to leave an angry bruise but not enough to knock her out completely.

After taking stock of her figure-from her laboured breathing to her split lower lip, he delivers a few more punches to her torso and a last strike across her face. All the while, Atsuhiro hands had snaked around her arms. keeping her in place.

Finally, Touya pulled out a handkerchief that had been previously doused in ether.

He pressed it firmly to her mouth and nose. forcing her to inhale the substance which quickly knocked her out.

"Hey, you guys done in here?" Himiko skipped into the parking lot, "We've got the stuff."

"Yeah," Touya pockets the handkerchief and watches as Yua unceremoniously slumps to the floor with a dull thud.

"We're done." he drags her body to the main entrance of the parking lot, ensuring that she would be the first thing to be seen by anyone coming through the garage's main door.

"You're too brutish Touya." Atsuhiro grimaces at the bruised girl crumpled in the corner.

"Whatever, someone make the signal, we're done here." Touya gets up to leave.

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

23:00 hrs.

"Magne. I got a call from the other guys." their leader radios from where he was keeping sentinel of the entire operation.

"They're all clear, make the call."

"Got it boss, making the call now."

Magne dials the number on a burner phone expecting the line to ring a couple of times before anyone answers, as expected, on the fifth ring, a woman's voice breaks through the radio silence.

"SMPA, what is your concern?" her voice was clear. but slightly unstable. when she doesn't give her a reply, she repeats her question, louder this time.

"Kidnapping" she says, evenly distributing the stress on each syllable to feign monotony. "23:00, 6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan. Takahashi Yua." Magne states calmly, while she hears rapid scribbling on the other end.

Here come the textbook reactions she thinks to herself, amused.

"who is this? Where is your intel from?" she asks, an undertone of panic lacing her voice. "Hello?" she follows up when Magne

doesn't reply—to which she settles for perching the receiver directly over his mouth to make sure it picks up her heavy breathing.

Magne waited a few moments before ﬁnally hanging up.

She radios to their leader. "Alright, the phone call is done the officer will be calling for backup soon."

After checking his watch, Tomura smirks at their record. "Keigo, you ready to receive that request for backup?" Tomura asks through his walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, on patrol near the area so I should be getting that on my frequency." he affirms, shifting to a more comfortable position on the drivers seat he had convinced his partner in advance to take a leave for their shift that night, so as to ensure that he would be able to carry out his part in the operation without any hiccups.

"I'll be first on the scene when the request for backup is made."

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

2:40 hours.

"Don't worry Ma'am, we'll find out who did this to your

daughter." Keigo assured the Ministers wife, pure concern ﬂawlessly depicted in his facial expression. "We've done a preliminary search of the crime scene, we'll come back with updates as soon as we find anything conclusive."

"You had better catch that criminal, I want him in jail, my daughter is lying unconscious in a hospital!" she demands, hands coming up to cover her face as her body was enveloped in a series of sobs.

Keigo gave a curt nod and comforting pat to the woman's shoulder before turning around and getting back into his car to leave.

As he pulled out of the driveway, he immediately drove to a remote alley in the outskirts of the district, once he was assured that his location wouldn't be found, he made a call.

"Hello? Keigo?" their leader answered. ''What's your status?"

"Shigaraki, I just got back from the crime scene." he says, turning the police radio down and killing the car's engine.

"And?" their leader asks, undoubtedly expectant of his answer.

Keigo knew that his cover was especially pivotal for that night's operation—and that Tomura had made it clear with no uncertain terms that the success of this phase relied on his ability to herd the police where they wanted them to.

"The family doesn't suspect a thing They believe it was an attempted kidnapping" he says, waiting for their leader's response.

After a beat, their leader simply hums in affirmation and hangs up, It wasn't much—he knew that Tomura had always been a man of few words, but he also knew that he always meant whatever he said, with that in mind, he restarted the car and proceeded to drive back to their residence.

Azabu Gardens,

Moto-Azabu 3-7-5 Minato-ku, Tokyo 106-0046.

January 9, 1990, Tuesday.

The League

03:00 hours.

He had stopped at the driveway, feeling no need to actually park his car since he was sure he'd be back at the station soon enough. Besides, he needed to speak with their leader immediately.

He had successfully crossed the foyer and was about to go up

the stairs when a familiar voice calls out to him "Keigoo, you're back!" The youngest member of their group, Himiko, approaches him, grinning.

"How'd it go?"

"Went well." he shrugs off his coat, and hangs his police hat over the coat stand. "Only one problem though, can you go get Shigaraki? We need to have a group meeting"

After a few minutes, everyone who had worked on the operation had gathered at their usual dining hall, with each finding their own seat at the round table.

"Everything went well with the family." After everyone had settled in, Keigo began immediately, fingers interlaced over the single file folder resting in front of him.

"But one of my subordinates is a little too close for comfort." Keigo states, instantly gaining the others' attention.

"What's his name?" Shigaraki questioned.

"Actually, it's a woman." he opens the folder, and pulls out a headshot photo.

"Her name is Miyasaki Y/N, she's the Assistant Inspector."

"A woman cop?" Touya reached for the photo then let out a snort at the subtle smile and short haircut she sported.

"So there's no problem then?" he chuckled, throwing the photo across the table for the others to see, clearly uninterested.

"Shut up Touya, you could probably get your ass kicked by this girl." Himiko quipped, earning a sharp glare from the other boy.

"I swear to god you psycho bitch, I'm gonna—" he shifts in his seat, calling out the girl, knowing full well that the mean name would provoke her.

Just as he was about to continue to prove that no girl could possibly kick his ass, he's thoroughly cut off.

"stop bickering this is serious." Keigo interrupted. "Girl cop or not, she's a threat." he declares.

He looks at them one by one and rests a brief glance at Tomura, their leader nods at him to continue. Keigo sighs, aware that he has to set the context for the rest of the group.

He had been given this role by Tomura directly so not everyone knew just what he was doing at the station or just how important his role was in their whole framework.

"she wasn't supposed to be the one who would get the police tip."

Keigo expels a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut.

"It was supposed to be her direct senior, the only other female Inspector in the agency, she usually does overtime with Miyasaki, but she changed her schedule tonight. I don't know why." again, Keigo sighs. This time, he's slouched on the dining chair, gently massaging the bridge of his nose.

The silence that follows only aggravated his frustration with himself.

He had been counting on Usagiyama Rumi, the agency's female Inspector, who he had been assigned to follow for the past few weeks.

She had the same routine ever since he "started" at the agency—time in at 7:00 am, attend meetings and facilitate cold opens throughout the day, follow-up on interrogations or meet victim's relatives and finally, time-out at midnight.

He wasn't counting on this assistant Inspector, she was an outlier, he didn't pay much attention to her other than the times that they'd cross paths at the cafeteria or when they'd get things from their adjacent locker units. He was working in the patrol and public safety unit, she was busy with comms and records-keeping.

Nonetheless, he did know everyone's business in the agency—even if he wasn't exactly tailing each and every one of them.

He knows the case assignments, he knows who had called in late and he knows why and he even knows how their chief liked his coffee down to the number of espresso shots and percentage of sugar.

"This girl is relentless." He presses on. "I've observed her at the agency—she dedicates herself to everything she does, it's borderline obsessive, even if it is something small and unimportant" he adds the latter as an afterthought, suddenly aware of all those times she stayed overtime.

"I don't like the idea of someone like that sniffing around where we don't want them to."

On his own, he just concluded that she did overtime because she wanted to kiss ass—especially given the kind of rumours going on about her, but it only dawned on him now that perhaps she was more dedicated to the job than others painted her out to be.

"Keigo's right." Kurogiri chimed in. "We should do something about her."

Silence fell for a beat, until it stretched on for a few minutes.

Everyone had exchanged glances, they knew that after Kurogiri, their leader had to have the final say.

"I agree," finally Tomura declares.

He stands up and proceeds to stand by the French window, parting open the satin drapes.

"It's time for modiﬁcations before starting phase 2.2."

"Find out why Usagiyama broke her routine. Enlist the others' help on this if you need more hands on comms." Tomura spares a glance at Magne and Spinner, at which the two people reply with nods.

"As for this new player..." their leader trails off, returning back to look at their garden and the approaching dawn.

Expectant, Keigo awaits his next orders. "I want you to keep an eye on her at the station. make sure she stays out of the way, try and befriend her if anything, I need you to throw her off our scent, okay?"

"Got it." the undercover member nods, rising from his seat.

The others follow suit, but Tomura gives follow-up instructions that stops them where they stood.

"Kurogiri, take over my 10:00 today." he announces, immediately piquing everyone's interest "Take Himiko and Jin, you'll need the extra eyes for surveillance."

After the three echo their assent, Tomura clears them, including Keigo, to leave, He adds a few reminders for Magne and Spinner to follow-up on their contracts with their current suppliers, experts and other assets before ﬁnally dismissing the two of them as well as Atsuhiro.

singled out, Touya stands by the doorway, intrigued.

"Dabi," he calls Touya by his alias, turning around to face him he then closes the distance between the two of them within five quick strides.

"I want you to pay a visit to that poor girl, make sure she's on bed rest," his voice strong and amplified by the domed ceiling and marble flooring. Touya nods. "I'll see which hospital admitted her," and moves to leave the room.

Not missing a beat. Tomura places a hand over his shoulder just as he was in the process of doing an about-turn.

"I wasn't referring to Miss. Yua.

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atsukashii · 4 years

Text

chapter 16 // tell me its over

Apartment 204 - Katsuki Bakugou x reader

<< sixteen >>

|| tell me its over ||

Word count: 4K - because i have no chill

In which Bakugou is your hellish asshole of a downstairs neighbour, and also the cute, broody regular at your work you’ve been hitting on for the past few weeks. Things get complicated though when the past makes a reappearance, then shit kinda hits the fan.

You glance down at your phone, the screen far too bright for your eyes in your dark room. Katsuki’s last message to you is staring you right in the face, sending a sharp pain straight into your chest. Black dots dance across your vision as you remember to breathe.

What is going on?

You know that you’re partially at fault for this, for not telling him even some semblance of the truth about your ex, but you were just trying to not be a damn burden. Why should he have to deal with that? You have had to do things on your own for such a long time, even your friends knew your boundaries - how does one even rely on someone without becoming so co-dependent that it hurts to be away from them? No, you think. Somewhere along the way, you became so used to seeing and being with him, that when you parted it hurt to breathe. Hanging your head in your hands, you press the heels of your hands into your closed eyes trying to stop the pressure from building behind them. How did you get to this point?

What a waste of time…

That line made you so mad. You knew he was hurt and mixing pure anger in with his already not-headed nature, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. And you weren’t going to take it from him that’s for damn sure. Your mixed emotions were swinging between despair and anger like a wrecking ball going through concrete, and you knew if you weren’t careful it would crush everything and crumble the foundations of your very being. But Jesus Christ you just wanted to scream!

“What a fucking asshole!” You suddenly shout, feeling not even a sliver of the building pressure inside your release. You need some mood music, you decide, before you crumple into a useless ball of tears. Maybe you were just unlucky when it came to relationships. You were already aware that your communication skills sucked majorly, but you honestly thought that he was it. That he was that one person that was made just for you, and were you aware that it sounds cringe? Yes, you were. But you didn’t really care, though, if he thinks he can talk to you that way, oh he’s got another thing coming.

Getting up and walking to the stereo in the lounge, you connect your phone and turn the sound dial to deafening.

‘Look inside Look inside your tiny mind Now look a bit harder 'Cause we're so uninspired So sick and tired of all the hatred you harbor’

Turning the music up louder until you can physically feel the bass vibrating the floorboards beneath your feet, you let out a frustrated yell at your whole situation - you would rather be angry than the other option was miserable despair. You’d get to that point eventually, but right now you’re pissed as fuck.

What the actual fuck had happened?

One second, everything had been peachy and perfect, and the next he was accusing you of cheating on him? What utter fucking bullshit! Stomping into the kitchen, you open the cupboard beneath the sink and pull out the vodka you had leftover from your last girls’ night with Ochako a few weeks ago, and tear the lid off.

“What utter bullshit!” You snap at nothing, and raise the rim to your lips, taking one swig. Two. Three. Suddenly, there’s a thumping under your feet that doesn’t come from the beat and you know it’s your asshole neighbor. “Fuck off!” You mumble.

What a fucking waste of time.

You want to hate him.

You want to be violent, to punch him in the face, to scream and cry. You wanted to do something, so that he could possibly feel even a sliver of the pain you were currently enduring...but you couldn’t bring yourself to do even that.

‘You know he’s hurting too, that’s why he bit your head off’. You would call that rational voice in your head common sense, but tonight it could get the fuck out.

Because you know that the reason this hurt so bad, the reason you are breaking down is that you loved that brash asshole that scowls too much. The one that calls you a dumbass but did so with eyes full of admiration. The one that buys you coffee even though he knows you could get it for free from your work because he can, the one who will sit in on a fucking boring ass biology lecture at 8 am in his free time because he was bored and just wanted to be with you. The one that puts your education, dreams, and aspirations at the forefront of his mind, and knows you do the same. The one that helps you study for exams. The one that knew you loved PDA and would do stupidly cute things like hold your hand and kiss you in public even though he despises public displays of affection.

You should have told him about Shindo ages ago. You should have told him how when you’d met the raven-haired boy you were only ten. That you’d been enamoured with him until he finally had made his feelings known when you fifteen. He had been your first everything; first kiss, first love - everything. You had even chosen your current college purely so you could be with him. What a stupid move that was. He made promises that he never kept. Like the flip of a coin, his sweet and kind personality you thought you knew turned into something completely different. You could barely recognize him. Shindo Yo became the psychotic boyfriend that you should steer far clear of. Expecting you to be at his beck and call, you found that being around him no longer took your breath away as it had once before, but instead smothered you.

You should have told Katsuki how you had come home to your shared apartment to find clothing littered across the floor, leading to your bedroom. You knew what was going on before you even recognized what you had heard. You should have told Katsuki about just how much it crushed you, about how you crumpled to the floor after walking right out of your apartment. You should have told him about the slump you were in after. There were days when you wanted to scream and days when you wanted to cry. You should have told your boyfriend that your ex had cheated on you and that he was pestering you non-stop. You should have trusted him, you should have relied on him. But that’s the thing about looking back on something, you see every little mistake you’ve made and how you could have changed it, but you can’t change what’s in the past.

You know that you were partially in the wrong for this, but so was he. Who does he think he is talking to someone like that? You know he’s hot-headed and can be borderline arrogant, but the way he spoke to you? Maybe you didn’t need that in your life…

‘Your point of view is medieval…’ Lilly Allen’s voice sings through your speakers and you frown at the blank tv in front of you. You had every right to be pissed at him right now, and though you know you may never truly hate him, you could be fucking livid. The chorus hit and you stood up on your couch and shouted the lyrics along with the music.

“Fuck you! Fuck you very, very much. 'Cause we hate what you do and we hate your whole crew, so, please don't stay in touch!” You all but scream, not caring for anything but the anger and pain trying to burst its way out of you. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and faster than you would like to admit it finds its way to your hand.

Text from Unknown: Y/n...can we please meet up. I just want to talk to you again, I miss us. Hear me out please gorgeous... - Shindo.

You feel something inside you begin to crack as the tiny sliver of hope you had that it was Katsuki leaves you. There is no hesitation as you turn off your phone and toss it on the couch away from you.

“Why are all men douchebags?” You ask yourself, tears threatening to fall as your anger begins to shift to something else. No no no, you’re not going to cry. You are not a fucking crybaby y/n... Earlier, the idea of being alone sounded like what you needed, but now, the music blasting, your apartment felt eerily quiet and your heartbeat echoed inside your head in perfect synchronization with the beat. You just knew you as you had reread your boy- ex’s texts, you couldn’t have your friends right that second because you knew you would break down and burst into a useless puddle of tears and you were better than that. You were stronger than that. A boy wasn’t going to break your heart. Not again.

“Do you really enjoy living a life that's so hateful? 'Cause there's a hole where your soul should be,” you mumble along with the song, sitting on the edge of the couch just listening along with the words. Your brain wanders to your friends, and then automatically to Kirishima and Kaminari. His friends were so nice to you and were people you had started to think of as your own friends. Ones he was so rude to but fiercely loyal to. Why couldn’t he be this loyal to you…

You feel sobs building at the back of your throat and try to swallow them down. It hurt too much; his accusation was a force of relentless bullets that keep ripping new wounds into you. The thought of ever doing that to someone else, of someone having to go through what you had, it made you sick to your stomach. Your heart physically throbbed painfully inside your chest. Looking at the vodka, you decide against it and go looking for some water.

You wouldn’t have heard of it if you hadn’t had to walk past the door of your apartment. The vigorous pounding and a voice shouting that's muffled by the music. Your downstairs neighbor no doubt. Oh, you were so not in the right frame of mind to deal with this. The pounding force rattles your door and for a second you think it may just break off its hinges.

Jesus Christ is this person fucking insane?!

Your somewhat ‘war’ with them had been put on hiatus recently as you had spent a lot of time between Ochako’s and the boy’s apartment as its location was much closer to school. Also with everything going on with Katsuki, you had forgotten just how much of a raging asshole the dickbag downstairs was. But now you remember every little crappy thing they had done, the blender going off before five am, his constant complaints when you were up later than eight, oh and that fucking note! The audacity that they had to pull that crap... Fury fills your blood again as you stomp towards your door, finally ready to give them a piece of your mind. You don’t care if they were an old person like you had previously assumed, they were being an insensitive asshole! Can’t they hear you’re in pain? Sniffling, a burst of anger left your mouth as you yank the door open.

“Leave me the fuck alone you miserable-” what met your gaze stopped you in your sentence, cementing your feet to the ground.

No, this can’t be happening right now. The horror in your eyes stared back at a pair of red vermillion ones, as your next breath rushed out in a gasp. His bloodshot eyes previously filled with rage that rivalled yours quickly morph into shock.

You stare at the boy that broke your heart not even an hour ago. You look at Katsuki Bakugou and his beautiful face, and everything that happened today tears through you like a wave of blades. A pathetically broken noise comes out of your throat and you immediately slammed the door in the blonde's face.

Oh my god…

Your legs collapse beneath, you causing you to fall to the floor. Oh my god, he was your neighbor. This whole time, he had been downstairs. Katsuki had been the one to drive you fucking mad whilst also make you feel so weightless and happy. The shock causes your body to shake as sobs rip through you, no longer able to hold anything in.

No, no please don’t let him be here. He can’t be here.

And the previously cracking piece inside of you shatters.

❀ ❀ ❀

You’re not sure how long you stay there for, back against the door, weeping as if a limb has been severed from your body. The only indication of time moving on around you is through the ever-changing music seeping from your speakers. By the time your world somewhat comes back to focus, Kodaline is playing in the background.

There's a gentle thump on the door, and you, for a moment, ignore it. You don’t want to see anybody. As if hearing you, you feel the next tap right on your spine followed by a soft voice.

“Y/n…” You force yourself to stand up and look through the peephole of your front door, the music playing too loudly for you to determine who is on the other side. You brace yourself for the worst, not really though knowing what that is - but the sight that meets you is a welcomed one. Another broken sob rips out of your chest as you see a pair of heterochromatic eyes that you have known since you were a child. You sling open the door so fast, the slam of it hitting the opposite wall is felt through the floor. Without a second of hesitation and without a single word, you throw yourself on your best friend and let your sobs be muffled by his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” Shouto says, holding your head against his chest. Never before, have you been so glad to see them in your entire life. You’re not surprised at all by their arrival, however, because they knew you, just as you knew them.

You feel Todo walk you inside and sit on the couch, with you tucked up next to him in silence. The music is turned off and they don’t ask what happened, doesn’t demand anything from you, Todo just holds you as Izuku whizzes around your apartment like a man on a mission.

“He-he…” You try to say, making both boys stop to look at you. Your voice is hoarse from your crying and your throat burns at the attempt, but you need to get it off your chest. Todo’s serious gaze encourages you to find your voice again and between sobs, you manage to get it out. “He was my neighbor. Downstairs.” they look at each other before looking at you, a mix between anger, disbelief, and shock.

“You’re going to come and stay with us for a few days,” Is all Todo says in response, not leaving any room for discussion as you break down crying once again. Relief floods through you, both at having them here, but also for not having to be in the same building as Katsuki.

With haste, they gather what you need and you quickly hurry down the stairs, the boys glaring at the level below yours as if tossing up the idea of getting into a physical brawl. You know that had they known just who occupied the apartment below yours before arriving at your rescue, they would have made a quick pit-stop at apartment 104. Shouto opens the passenger door for you and quietly, you slip inside. You wipe your nose on your sweater sleeve and try to muffle your sniffles. Once the car is started and you’re buckled in, from his spot behind you, Izuku wraps his arms around your shoulders, hugging you to the chair. You lean back into your friend’s embrace as he kisses you on the head.

“You want some chocolate?” He asks quietly, and Todo actually snorts.

“Contrary to popular belief, chocolate doesn’t fix anything Izuku.”

“Really? Because I have proof that it does,” he sasses back, resting his head on your chair.

“I’m good for now, thanks Zuzu.” You look between your two friends and try your best to give them a sad smile. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Whatever you need, we’re here y/n.” Shouto says, and your lips wobble. God, they were so precious to you. Sensing your inner turmoil, Izuku squeezes you tighter and you chastely peck the arm across your chest in thanks. You don’t know what you would do without them, or where you would even be.

The rest of the trip is relatively quiet, only Zuzu’s humming as songs play on the radio fills the car, and you’re grateful for even that distraction. When you finally make it to their shared apartment, you open the door and there’s Ochako, pacing and looking so damn worried. Meeting her halfway, you let her pull you into her as the silent tears you can’t seem to stop, run down your cheeks.

“We’re watching movies,” she says, leading you into the lounge where you find three mattresses on the floor. You give them all a watery smile in thanks but turns into a broken attempt at a laugh as your eyes lock onto the three bags of KFC now in Shouto’s hands.

“You feed a small army with all that food.” You smile, wiping your nose.

“We’re basically the same thing.” Todo points out as you all sit down and get comfortable on the floor. With your friends surrounding you, you give them all another sad smile and try to wipe away the uncontrollable tears as they fall.

“I love you guys so much.” You sniffle. Pulling you into him, Todo wraps an arm around your shoulder, and Ochako hugs your waist.

“We love you too chickadee, more than you will ever know.” But, you think as you look over them and then at the Disney opening on the tv screen, you do know, and you love them just as much.

He stands outside the door of the apartment above his own - your door, staring at it with wide eyes. No fucking way were you his neighbor. He wasn’t a moron, or inept, he would have known that. Surely he had walked you home before?...no, you had been staying at Ochako’s a lot because it was closer to your work and classes… Your love for abba, your fucking sass, and annoying tendency to take no shit from even him that he adored.

God, it was so obvious. How did he not fucking know?

Turning down the stairs, he all but sprints back to his room, clenching his phone so tight in his hand it almost cracks the screen. Fuck he needs to talk to someone or hit something. Some divine intervention that could prevent his phone from certain death emerged through an incoming call. Without hesitation, Katsuki answers, knowing full well who’s on the other side and his mouth moves too fast for him to comprehend. Looks like it’s talking and not hitting something.

“She was my fucking neighbor Kirishima.” he blurts out, his ass falling onto his couch as he speaks. Leaning back and he looks up at the ceiling as if he could still see her broken face when she had answered the door and seen him. He was sure that the shock on his face mirrored hers, but then the pain that it turned into... Good! She should be feeling what I felt. His brain argues against the very words, but he doesn’t care.

Katsuki manages to catch a very confused reply from his friend and rubs the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“She’s my upstairs neighbor.” He repeats, the situation finally daunting on him. The girl he had been dating for months was living above him, making his life hellish whilst doing the opposite when she was with him. Fuck my life.

“Fuck man,” Kirishima says distracted, and Katsuki can’t blame him. “I’m assuming you saw her or something then?” The redhead asks carefully. A growl rips out of Katsuki’s throat and he stands up, fisting a hand in his hair. He so wished that he hadn’t seen you. That someone else had opened that door, instead of your broken expression and bloodshot eyes. The way you had looked at him was as if he were something between a ghost and your worst nightmare.

“I wish I fucking hadn’t,” he admits.

“Bro, she obviously meant something to you so I’m not surprised that you’re hurting-”

“Well, she doesn’t anymore. That shit’s done and thank god for it.” He wants to be fucking livid at you but no matter the shitty things he says about you, all he can see is your pained face and the feeling dissolves into nothing, leaving only despair in its wake. The words actually hurt as he says it, and Kirishima sighs from the other side of the phone - as if he could hear the turmoil in his voice. But the redhead doesn’t mention it. Good, because there would be hell to pay if he had.

“I’m currently staring at a half-full bottle of scotch from work right now, and am feeling kinda pathetic about drinking myself. Want some?” Katsuki knows that his friend doesn’t want to fucking drink. He works as a personal trainer most mornings during the week, including Saturdays, so getting slammed on a Friday night was something he often opted out of. But for this situation, for what his friend was going through, he’d do it. Or at least would watch over Bakugou as he got roaring drunk.

“That is fucking pathetic shitty hair,” he replies, shaking his head at his friend’s antics. “Bring the fucking bottle or you’re not coming in.”

“I knew you’d think so. I’ve got spiced ribs too just sitting here, I’m going to bring them too.” Katsuki would have to be an idiot to believe his friend would have one of his favourite foods just hanging around, but he didn’t object to it. “You’re second favorite bro might also make an appearance. But we can decide that depending on how much he pisses me off in the car.” For a moment, Katsuki’s lips tick up, but quickly drop again as he hears the sound of a door closing coming from above him. You’re leaving.

Without realizing it, his hand has moved up to his chest where he gently rubs the skin above his heart.

“I don’t care, Kirishima. Just hurry the fuck up and get over here.” He can hear Denki in the background and chooses to ignore them both before with a final curse at his friends, he hangs up the phone. His feet drag him to the window of his apartment that looks over the car parking of your apartment complex, and it’s like the world has a vendetta against Katsuki Bakugou this past week. Because there you are, getting into a car as your friend with the half and half hair closes the door behind you. From this angle, he can see you clearly through the passenger side window, and he can see the tears running down your cheeks. He has an urge to run to you, one that he blatantly ignores because you don’t deserve it.

He’s better off without you.

Your green-haired, freckly friend wraps his arms around your shoulders - and then the car is gone. Katsuki turns his back on the window and walks towards the kitchen.

He’s better off without you. The whole thing was a fucking mistake. He doesn’t need anyone. His aspirations will take up everything he is, and he would much rather focus on that than you.

Anything otherwise isn’t even worth a fucking thought.

a/n: whew, that was a doozy. Sorry if its a bit wordy, I just had to get it all out. This will be the only written chapter of this series, so everything from here on out is back to the social media format. We’re so close to the end now its so scary. This smau is my baby and I love it lots so its really sad.

Tag list below. Wanna be tagged? shoot me an ask!

@alexismiszczak

@anastar-legion

@ambitchousaf

@a-timeheist

@bakubatty

@bikinibrattoms

@breaking-ur-kneecaps

@bubbzibubbles

@ew-i-hate-that-goaway921

@fangirls-are-scary

@fukyouthink

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@stuck-1n-space

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@thatshortanimegirl

@todoroki-my-bbyboi

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@nightlockowl

@sunflower-kami-boi

@axolotleyeliner

@cmur3919

@star-mum

@elaras-nightmare

@bimyoux

@loxbbg

@itsgardenuniverse

@chaelysian

@dabilove27

@thatbitchfic

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@babyxkatsuki

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@bakuhoe03

@hereticpriest

@bunniotomia

@loudraws5

@whisperingwolfie

if your name has a strike it wouldn’t tag :(

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writing-is-thorapy · 3 years

Text

Angstpril Day 7: Friendly Fire AND Day 11: “This Isn’t You”

It’s been five years since everything changed, since the world as he knew it completely collapsed, since his brothers became nothing more than drones for an evil empire. Though he and Ahsoka had started doing work for the Rebellion, Rex never stopped looking for and rescuing any brothers he could.

He had saved so many, each and every one of them a step in the right direction, a step toward ensuring they were all free, there is still one person he has yet to find. Rex listens in on Imperial channels, listens for whispers, rumors, anything that may lead him to his lost brother.

Nothing.

Rex had been on a recon mission in the Outer Rim when his ship was shot down by Imperial Forces.

As he staggers out of the crumpled cockpit, miraculously still able to walk, he groans.

Tatooine. Of course it had to be Tatooine.

His nav systems are fried, so he just gathers what supplies he can, chooses a direction, and walks.

He continues like this for some time, absolutely boiling in the desert suns.

“Stop,” a distorted voice calls out from behind him. Rex obeys, his hands drifting to his blasters as he slowly pivots to face whoever called out to him.

The black armor of a purge trooper stands in stark contrast to the varying brown and tan shades of the desert, the red visor glaring menacingly.

“Hey, I’m just a traveller,” Rex says warily. “If you could just direct me to—”

“CT-7567,” the trooper snaps, an electrostaff gripped in his hands. “You are wanted for treason and are to be captured and subsequently executed.”

“You’ll have to get me first,” Rex snarks, painfully reminding himself of his General.

They launch themselves at each other, exchanging punches and kicks. Rex is hit by trooper’s staff more than once, and wishes he too had saber-proof armor.

With a well-aimed kick, Rex separates the trooper from his staff, and the two resort to hand-to-hand.

And then it happens.

Rex doesn’t even know how, but the trooper’s helmet is ripped off of his head.

The world stops.

Rex is face-to-face with the brother he’s been fruitlessly—hopelessly—searching for.

Though he looks a little older—they both do, really—the scar that creeps around his eye and down his face is the exact same.

But Cody’s eyes…

Cody’s eyes are dead.

Rex’s shock is costly; Cody hits him across the head with his blaster and pins him to the ground.

“Cody,” he says, feeling desperate. “Cody, this isn’t you. C’mon, snap out of it, vod.”

Cody continues to stare at him dispassionately, finger on the trigger.

Rex has stared down the barrel of a blaster more times than he count; heck, he’s been shot at by brothers before.

But this is different.

This is his ori’vod, the best friend that protected him and stood by his side no matter what, the brother that has saved his life again and again.

It’s only fair that Cody be the one to end it, as well.

Rex exhales, readying himself for the final blow, the final moment.

It never comes.

Instead, Cody flies sideways, as if violently pushed.

Shocked, Rex looks the opposite direction.

Brown cloak and tan robes waving in the dry desert wind and lightsaber hanging on his hip is none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. Though the desert has aged him—his hair and beard are less colorful than they used to be and there are wrinkles on his face that weren’t there before—he looks just as fierce as threatening as he did during the height of the War.

“General Kenobi,” Rex whispers reverently, barely believing his eyes.

“I haven’t been ‘General’ for a long time, Captain,” he replies as he walks towards Rex. “Please, just call me Ben.”

“Only if you call me Rex,” he replies.

Before they can exchange any more pleasantries, Cody slowly rises, grains of sand clinging to his armor like stars in the night sky.

When he catches sight of General Kenobi Obi-Wan Ben, he staggers back, seemingly disoriented. He cups his head in one hand, expression twisted in pain and eyes screwed shut. Rex and Ben begin to slowly approach him as one would a wounded animal, but Cody shakes his head and looks back up, expression blank and eyes empty.

“General Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he growls, the waver in his voice almost imperceptible. “Under Order 66, all Jedi are to be executed for treason against the Republic.”

“Cody…” Ben begins, the anguish evident in his expression. He takes a step forward but Cody is quick to unholster his blaster and point it at the Jedi. It’s a DC-15LE, Rex vaguely recalls.

“G-good soldiers follow orders.”

He fires.

Like lightning, Ben brandishes his lightsaber and deflects the bolt.

And so they fight.

Jedi versus Commander, brother versus brother—and yet somehow, somehow, they are able to subdue Cody.

After Ben secures Cody’s unconscious body on his dewback, they set off to the Jedi’s hut.

Once they arrive and settle Cody in Ben’s bunk, the Jedi uses some Force-trick to disable Cody’s chip (Rex didn’t even need to tell him about the chips. Apparently he already knew). Rex sends a quick message to Ahsoka using Ben’s secure comm to let her know that he was okay. He would tell her everything else when he saw her next—she definitely deserved to know that Obi-Wan Ben was alive, but he wasn’t willing to risk passing along such top-secret information when there was still a possibility the message could be intercepted.

Cody wakes up two days later.

Obi-Wan is in Mos Eisley grabbing supplies, so it’s just him and Rex. The latter is reassembling his blasters when he hears a soft groan from the bunk. Rex quickly looks at Cody and, after seeing his stir, quickly stashes his blasters away and out of sight. Just in case.

Cody opens his eyes and blinks blearily at Rex.

“Hey, Cody,” Rex says, willing his voice to remain steady.

For what seems like eternity, Cody stares at him, confused, until he gasps, eyes widening in realization.

“No,” he murmurs, voice cracking as his eyes fill with tears. “No!” Cody shoots upward, clearly intending to escape from the bed, but Rex stops him, wrapping his brother in a tight hug.

“Cody,” he whispers, his eyes burning. “Cody, it wasn’t your fault.”

At Rex’s words, Cody stops struggling.

And then he screams, a wordless expression of pure anguish. He curls into Rex’s embrace and sobs, great heaving, heart-wrenching cries ripped from his throat one after the other that are no less painful despite being muffled by how his face is pressed against Rex’s chest.

“Rex, oh Force, Rex,” he whimpers. “Vod’ika.”

Rex tightens his arms around Cody. “Ori’vod,” he rasps in reply, tears dripping down his face.

And so there they remain, while Cody begins to process everything that his body has done and Rex simply relishes having his brother back.

They are so distracted that neither of them hears the door open and close, feels the desert breeze that slithers into the hut.

Neither of them realizes that another is present until he speaks.

“Commander.”

Cody freezes.

“It’s ok, Cody,” Rex whispers, marginally loosening his grip.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Cody uncurls from Rex’s chest and peeks over his shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rex sees the shock and disbelief, the self-loathing, the hope on his brother’s face as he truly sees the General he had long thought to be dead.

Cody chokes on a sob as otherwise-silent tears stream down his face.

“General,” he murmurs, the declaration filled with a myriad of emotions Rex can’t possibly identify. “I-I killed you.”

“And yet here I am,” Ben responds, his voice laced with affection.

Rex slowly releases his brother, allowing Cody to rise from the cot and slowly walk towards Ben, looking as if he is seeing a ghost.

And in a way he is.

Cody stops an arm’s length away, looking as if he is physically restraining himself from leaping into Ben’s arms.

Instead his knees give out and he falls to the floor, head bowed. Ben looks dismayed but refrains from reaching out.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Cody chokes out, “Then just do it. I know what I’ve done.”

Surprise and distress flit across Ben’s face (and when had he been so expressive?) before he kneels directly in front of Cody, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder and ignoring the way Cody stiffens in response.

“Cody,” Ben replies, “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to help you.”

Rex is unable to see Cody’s expression or hear if he has said anything, but whatever it is causes Ben to utter, “Oh, Cody,” and wrap him in his arms.

“Ni ceta, alor,” Cody whispers, the words so soft that Rex can barely hear them. “Ni ceta.”

Ben only tightens his grip, murmuring in Cody’s ear.

Rex silently creeps out of the room, wishing more than anything to reunite with his General.

And though Rex doesn’t know it yet, he will. Just not in the way he wants nor expects.

After all, he always joked that General Skywalker would be the death of him.

Mando’a Translations:

Vod= Brother

Ori’vod= Big brother

Vod’ika= Little brother

Ni ceta, alor= I’m sorry [extreme], leader

#star wars #captain rex #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #my writing #angstpril2021 #day 7 #day 11 #here you are folks #this one got LOOONG #I refuse to write a fight scene if I don't have to #had to end it with angst because IT'S ANGSTPRIL

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kevindayisafrog · 3 years

Text

Non-Binary Kevin - it gets heavy, I guess

TW - body dysmorphia, hints at self harm and internalized homophobia

Kevin watched as the steam from his burning shower fogged up the mirror, hiding his scarred body once again. He sighed and leaned backwards into the hot stream of water, remembering a post he had read just last week: ‘people who have long hot showers tend to be the loneliest’. He let out a small scoff despite himself. The post was wrong. It wasn’t that he was lonely, he just enjoyed feeling the skin he hated melt away. Ever since he was young, as long as he could remember, he always felt uncomfortable in his body. His skin felt too tight here and too tight there; too smooth here and too bumped there. It’s not that he hated his physique, he just felt suffocated. He reached over and turned off the water and, grabbing a towel on his way out of the shower, walked over to the mirror. He held up the towel and let out a shaky breath before swiping away the squeaking condensation from the toothpaste splattered mirror. His haggard reflection stared back at him in a twisted gaze. He stepped back into the bath so that his full body was seen in the mirror. Turning this way and that, Kevin pulled at his skin and watched silently as his reflection did the same. He shivered slightly as the cold breeze seeped through the open bathroom window. He stared down at his body and winced before stepping out of the shower and pulling on his clothes over his still dripping skin.

Kevin watched Allison, Dan and Renee as they became engrossed in their own idle conversation. Allison was beyond beautiful; the perfect girl next door. Her platinum blond hair curved around her strong shoulders effortlessly. Her nails were perfectly manicured in a dark plum colour, making her slender fingers seem doll-like. Her tight black cropped shirt hugged comfortably around her chest and the sleeves hung loosely around her pale wrists. Kevin felt a weird pull at his gut as he looked away, catching Dan’s small smile. He darted his gaze to the floor and, once confident that Dan wasn’t watching, flicked his gaze back towards the girls. Dan was the polar opposite to Allison, yet she was gorgeous in her own way. Her short hair brushed her forehead neatly and made her eyes shine enigmatically. Her full lips were pulled in a wide grin, showing her perfectly straight teeth. She was wearing a loose red sweatshirt that ended halfway down her thigh. Her legs visibly toned beneath her jeans that were baggy around the knees. Again, Kevin felt the weird pang in his stomach, but this time it crawled up to burn his chest, too. Finally, he cast his gaze upon the innocent beauty that was Renee. Her cut short dyed hair was neatly brushed into straight lines around her cheeks. Her dimples dipped sweetly as her smile spread wider, making her skin crinkle slightly by her shining eyes. Her shoulders were pulled up straight, but her head was bent to show a gentle twinge of muscle in her neck. A beautiful ballet dancer’s neck. The pain finally fizzed into Kevin’s head as it gave way to a suffocating feeling beneath his skin. Was he jealous? He shook his head and turned to watch as his father scanned the room in silent approval. His shoulders were slightly hunched forward as he crossed his muscled arms across his broad chest. His defined jaw was jutted out as he watched his Foxes talk enthusiastically about the new season. Kevin felt a whimper trap itself in his throat as he cleared it self consciously, Nicky sending him a side glance. He turned his gaze finally to Matt as he sat, thighs pulled widely apart, leaning to rest his head on Dan’s shoulder. He was comfortable in his skin. They all were. So why wasn’t Kevin?

When Kevin got back to the dorms he glared into the mirror in the bathroom and let out unsteady shaky breaths. This constant crashing feeling hit him throughout his life, so why was it hurting so badly now? He clutched the sink with shaking hands and whispered into the mirror. “You’re a man, for fucks sake, you’re a man”, he let out a sob and repressed the urge to smash the mirror. He knew he’d only pull the glass onto his skin. He’d cut off the bits he didn’t want, carve new pieces that he wanted. Needed. He’d done it before. He let his legs fall beneath him as he rested his head against the side of the bath. How was everyone so comfortable with themselves? Why did he have to come out wrong? He bit his left hand with all his might as he sucked in a silent scream. He just wanted to feel like himself. But how could he be himself if he didn’t even know if he wanted to be a him?

As he lay in bed that night, he listened to the other boys’ breathing and replayed his past on the dark ceiling above him. Admittedly, he couldn’t remember many chunks of his childhood, but he could remember some as clear as day. One memory pulled at him continuously and left a cold feeling across his body. He remembered crying on the bathroom floor after a long fight with himself. Blood seeped out from under his fingernails and trickled down his palms. There wasn’t a part of him that he hadn’t tried to scratch away. That’s where Jean found him. That’s where he finally told someone. He remembered Jean whispering ‘you’re okay’s in his ear and something about genders not being real. He let out a wet laugh at the time, but now Kevin felt his ears buzz with the words as if Jean were still by his ear. ‘Non-binary’, ‘trans’, ‘fluid’ kept flowing out of Jean’s mouth and Kevin dismissed them at the time. He didn’t understand the words, but now he could try. He leaned over the railing on his loft bed and squinted into the dark room, attempting to see if any of the others were awake. Confident that they were all sleeping, he rolled over and pulled his phone off the pillow and went to the search engine. He hesitated over the search bar and quickly turned it into private mode - just to make sure. He typed in ‘gender fluid’ and scrolled for ages, a feeling of unease scratching at his neck. He turned his neck to stare at the room yet again and faced his screen. This didn’t feel like him. He typed into the search engine: ‘non-binary’. He sucked air through his teeth and exhaled shakily as he prepared for another hour of endless scrolling. After twenty different websites and four YouTube videos, Kevin locked his phone and closed his eyes. He pressed his palms angrily into his eyes and let out a quiet whine. Why did the most ordinary thing have to be so fucking complicated?

When he woke up the next morning his eyes were itchy from tears that he hadn’t known he shed. As he climbed out of bed he made eye contact with Nicky who stared at him with questioning eyes. “Fuck off”, Kevin muttered as he grabbed his clothes for the day and shut himself away in the bathroom down the hall. He refused to look at his reflection and instead turned on the shower to steam up the mirror. He couldn’t do this today. Once he had finished with washing and dressing, he leaned down to pick up his clothes and froze. Beneath his crumpled hoodie was a pamphlet, half hidden beneath the door. Kevin stepped back as if it was poisonous and stared at the door. Once he was sure that whoever placed it there was gone, he leaned down and picked up the pamphlet hesitantly. Stuck to the front page with a bright orange post it was the scribbled message: ‘You don’t have to tell me, just know I’m here’ in Nicky’s messy handwriting. Kevin frowned and peeled off the note to reveal the bold lettering beneath it: ‘Non-Binary and Me. Everything You Need To Know’. Kevin recoiled in horror and hid his face in his hands. How the fuck did that rat bastard know? He felt his cheeks burn and a sickness feeling began to crawl up his throat. He couldn’t fucking do this. He stuffed the pamphlet into his jeans pocket and left the bathroom with a calm mask. He couldn’t breathe.

“Can I come in?”, Nicky knocked softly on the bedroom door and Kevin froze by his drawers. “No”, he shouted back, but it came out in a more strangled way. “I’m coming in anyway”, Nicky pushed open the door and closed it quietly behind him. “Morning sunshine”, his bright smile was hesitant as Kevin turned his back. “Go away”, he seethed, the sick feeling returned with the heat. “Did you read it?” Nicky stepped into the room and dropped onto his bed cheerily. “I said fuck off”, Kevin grabbed the drawers with trembling hands. “No you didn’t, you said ‘go away’”, Nicky’s smile dropped slightly as he leaned forward towards Kevin. “I have another one for pronouns. It’s actually really-“ Nicky stopped as Kevin threw the pamphlet in his face. “My pronouns are he/him. I’m a fucking man, alright? Now take your fucking pamphlets and leave”, he watched Nicky’s smile drop and felt the guilt compete with the sickness. He pushed both feelings down and bit his bottom lip. “You know, I felt like that too. I used to lie about my sexuality so much that I started to believe it. But the feelings never went. They just kept eating at me. No matter how many people were happy with me being straight, the feelings of hatred were still there. I didn’t hate being gay, but I hated myself for hiding it. For lying to myself. But it feels so good being out, no more nights thinking that they were the last”, he let out a shaky laugh and Kevin stared in silence. He didn’t know what to say, he never did. “Don’t get me wrong, no matter what situation you’re in, coming out is still fucking terrifying. But just know that you don’t have to tell anyone, not even me. As long as you tell yourself, as long as you accept yourself. Then you’ll feel better”, Nicky lifted his bent head to smile a fragile smile at Kevin. They sat in silence as Kevin tapped his tongue across the back of his teeth. “I think I am”, he whispered, barely audibly. “You think you’re what?”, Nicky rubbed his hands together on his lap and met Kevin’s eyes. “I’m..I don’t think I’m- a man. Well I am, but..I don’t want to be. I don’t know”, Kevin punched his thigh and bit his lower lip, “I don’t want to be a girl though. I just want..I don’t know what I want. But”, he gestured limply to the pamphlet on Nicky’s lap. “I think I want that”, he dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I’m proud”, Nicky smiled warmly as Kevin’s head shot up, “do you want new pronouns?” Kevin stared blankly as he realized that he never gave himself the chance to think about it. Did he want new pronouns? He let different ones roll around his head, trying them against himself. “Umm..can we start with he/they?”, Kevin let themself hear the new pronouns out loud. “I think they suit you”, Nicky winked and stood up. “Wait”, Kevin leant over and pulled Nicky’s sleeve towards them. “Can you not say ‘they/them’ around the others. I don’t think I can deal with it right now”, they dropped their hand and Nicky caught it, giving it a small squeeze of understanding. “I’m proud of you”, he whispered before turning and leaving the room. “Fuck”, Kevin exhaled and rubbed a hand across their face. They could do this.

#kevin day #aftg #aftg trilogy #nora sakavic #tfc #all for the game #nicky hemmick #headcanon #aftg fic #aftg au #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #nonbinary

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chuuyasnumber1simp · 3 years

Text

Born of Lies but Learning to Love- Part 3

previous part part one

Warnings: Suicide, Character Death, General Angst but not as bad as you think i promise

Word Count: 2233

“I want you to kill Chuuya,”

The words from the man you hated most in your life reverberated through your head, chilling you to the bone. God, you wished this was some sort of sick joke- he did those often.

“I’ve watched your progress, I’ve watched you grow. I know you’re capable of doing it. I know you’ve formed some sort of attachment to him, and as much as I believe Chuuya can and has done great things, I do believe you can do better. The first step is ridding yourself of your attachment to him, and the best way to do that is to kill him with your own two hands,”

“Chuuya,” Mori turned to the redhead beside him. “This is no offense to your abilities, but I need to think about what’s best for the Port Mafia. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good,”

Chuuya was livid. The ground cracked under the increased gravity, a red aura glowing around him.

For once, you thanked your ‘training’, because currently, your face remained expressionless, while you were spiraling inside.

What were you supposed to do? The consequences of disobeying Mori were steep, he did horrors worse than death. The scars that littered your body were a testament to that. But Chuuya…

What did you feel for Chuuya?

You’d never liked anyone romantically before, it was never even a thought. You didn’t really know how to categorize your feelings, they were just there.

And you let them be, because they were alienated from you, and you didn’t know what to do with them. You observed them from a distance, letting them unfold.

He was so comforting, never demanded you to do anything you didn’t want to. He was a constant you needed in your life, a comfort.

Though, you didn’t quite know in which way,

You loved him.

Maybe, platonically, maybe romantically,

But you loved Chuuya Nakahara.

You weren’t sure how he felt about you, but with him you were happy. So you knew, what you had to do would be the most painful thing you would ever do.

Chuuya was yelling obscenities to Mori. You chuckled at this, you would miss the way he was hard on the outside, soft on the inside.

Stepping forward, standing next to him, you smiled lightly, not enough to be noticed.

Goodbye, Chuuya.

CHUUYA POV:

He barely noticed you stepping up next to him, and he wished he noticed the glint of metal in your hand.

Time seemed to slow from that point on, and to say his heart stopped was an understatement.

A small knife glinted in your hand, and in one swift motion, you drew it across your throat.

He grabbed your wrist, flinging the knife somewhere in the room. Your body crumpled to the floor, already failing from the amount of blood loss. He knelt down, clutching you close to his chest.

“No, no no no no,” he whispered, looking around frantically for someone, something, to help.

“Hey,” you whispered hoarsely, voice box barely working from the cut.

Gently cupping his face with your hand, you traced the outline of his face, fingertips already growing cold.

“Could you take off your gloves? I want to feel you before I go,”

“You’re not going to go, we’ll get Yosano and--”

“Chuuya,”

Tears were streaming down his face now, blending with the blood you accidentally spread on his.

“It has to be this way. Mori isn’t going to let both of us leave this room unless one of us is in a body bag. Thank you for allowing me to be happy. I have a favorite food now. It’s popcorn,”

He chuckled, not wanting the last sight you see of him be that of sadness.

“Promise me you’ll finish When Calls the Heart. One of us needs to know if Jack finally confesses to Mrs. Thatcher,”

Chuuya watched as Mori left the room, most likely aware the once the last breath left your lips, there would be no stopping Chuuya’s Corruption.

“What am I going to do when you’re gone?” His piercing blue eyes gazed into yours, conveying so much sadness, trying so hard to figure out why it had to be you, and not him.

“I’ll never truly leave you, Chuuya. I’ll always be with you, in your heart. You care so deeply, and while many would frown upon that, seeing as your a member of the mafia, I’ve always loved that about you. Please know that I’m doing this because I want you to live on, make sure nobody suffers like I did, okay?”

He wrapped his pinky finger around yours, sobbing quietly. “I promise. I’m going to miss you so much, Y/N,”

He could see the light slowly leaving your eyes, your arm slumping to the ground.

“I’ll see you again someday, Chuuya Nakahara,”

With that, your chest stopped moving, your eyes no longer filled with any life at all. You were limp in his arms, gone.

He screamed, clutching your bloody form to his allowing corruption to take over his mind, drown out his thoughts. He was vaguely aware of Koyou entering the room, trying to get a hold of your body. The red marks swirling around his body grew, and he slapped her hand away, not even trying to distinguish his sobs from his screams. His thoughts rampaged in his head, harsh and unforgiving.

Why does everyone leave?

Why did she have to go, why do I care? Why does this hurt so much?

Why am I so stupid stupid stupid stupid?

Stupid little Chuuya, he liked someone again didn’t he?

Did he not see how it worked out last time?

He left, she died, it’s always the same, isn’t it?

Arabahki’s thoughts mingled with his own, mixing together with the chaos of his grief.

All he had was the Port Mafia, and yet Mori betrayed him, was ready to kill him off. Sacrifice him, was Chuuya even important?

Not to Dazai. Not to the Sheep. Not to the Port Mafia.

Maybe it’s time to go.

DAZAI POV:

Getting a call from Mori that Chuuya was on a Corruption rampage and might kill him and the rest of the Port Mafia, was not how Dazai enjoyed being woken up on his day off.

Dazai pondered his relationship with the short man on his way to the Port Mafia headquarters, wondering how his former partner felt about him, after all these years. Dazai knew how Chuuya felt about what he did to Y/N, but he also fondly remembers the grudging friendship the two had harbored in their youth. Dazai never knew what to make of Chuuya. Though he relished fights and the occasional killing of a man, his personality never seemed to fit the Port Mafia. He held too much compassion in his heart, carried too much sympathy for an executive. Dazai himself, even after attempting to better himself, admitted to himself that he did not possess the same weirdly righteous qualities Chuuya had. As he rushed up the stairs and to the elevator in the building, he wondered if Chuuya would have faired better during a different time, maybe some dimension where abilities did not exist.

He hoped that in some other dimension, you and him had found happiness.

When he stepped into Mori’s office, the sight that greeted him shocked him to his core. Your body lies dead in the center of the room, blood staining the ground around you. Chuuya held you like a lifeline, blood already spilling from his mouth at the use of Corruption. When his eyes caught Dazai’s he lunged forward, fist pulled back. Dazai sidestepped, grabbing his arm and slamming him to the ground.

Corruption slowly dissipated, leaving Chuuya weak and angry. They both sat against the glass, Dazai gripping Chuuya’s hand. He listened to him cry, wondering if he was intruding. He most likely was, but Dazai would be lying if he said that he was not saddened by your lifeless form, knowing that in a way, he was the reason for your untimely death.

Chuuya shifted next to him, wobbly standing up.

“Chuuya,” Dazai called, concerned that he would activate Corruption again.

“Want do you want,” Chuuya all but yelled back, clear malice ripping through Dazai.

“Just an explanation,”

“You don’t deserve one. This is all your fault. Plus, It’s not like you gave me one when you left,”

Dazai hardened his gaze. “You know why I left,”

“Oh yes, I know why,” Chuuya threw his hand up in the air, rounding on the brunette. “But the explanation never came from you. The only thing you’ve ever given me was issues, and in a way, Y/N, but now she’s gone,” His voice broke at your name, a few more tears pilling over. “And I’m alone again,”

“Chuuya-”

“No!” Chuuya screamed, letting out everything he still had left in him. “She didn’t deserve this. She was so scared, and so hurt, and I thought I could help her, but in the end, I’m the reason she’s dead. And you,” He stood before Dazai, heaving, tears freely flowing. “You’re the one who made her this way,”

Dazai stood up, towering over his ex-partner. “I never said I don’t regret what I did, nor did I say I enjoyed it. I was a kid Chuuya, and I had nowhere else to call home. Can you honestly say you have no regrets? That you never did things your ashamed of?”

Chuuya punched Dazai’s arm, though he was too weak for the punch to feel anything more than a tap.

“I hate you,” Chuuya said, eyes downcast.

“No, you don’t. You hate what I’ve done, and you hate the way you still regard me as someone you rely on, but you don’t hate me. You hate the fact that you don’t hate me,”

“You’re a monster,”

Dazai knew that Chuuya didn’t mean what he said, that he was grieving, but his words hurt some deep place in his heart nonetheless.

Dazai wrapped his arms around the shorter man, an action foreign and unfamiliar for the both of them. Yet, appropriate, in some way.

“I know,”

Chuuya sobbed, letting his anger melt away and expose the deep, raw sadness beneath. He practically ripped Dazai’s trench coat with how hard he gripped it, sinking to his knees in exhaustion. Dazai felt a few hot tears slip down his cheeks, something he hadn’t done in a very long time.

YOUR POV:

It hurt.

Dying was more painful than you ever could have imagined, but watching Chuuya tear apart the room and himself while you watched on from the shadows hurt more.

Right before Chuuya started yelling at Mori, you had activated your ability, hiding your real form and creating a second one. You watched as you made it draw the blade against its -your- throat, and watched with tears streaming down your cheeks as Chuuya held you, promising to make sure no one would go through what had happened to you.

It hurt, but you knew the only way to make sure Chuuya lived on was to make everyone think you died. For the plan to work, Chuuya had to be completely innocent of your plan.

Which meant he would think you died too.

You listened to his and Dazai’s conversation, shocked at how hurt he sounded when he brought up Dazai leaving. It hurt you to know you had essentially done the same thing, though your purpose was to make sure he was safe.

Now came the tricky part.

You had only succeeded in doing this once, but it was worth a shot.

Since Dazai was not touching you, he was also under the influence of your ability.

In order for this to work, you had to make them believe that it was normal for your body to fade and disappear as if it was an aspect of your ability.

Your head pounded as you manipulated their minds, knowing Dazai was going to find out your extravagant lie sooner or later.

Once you were sure you succeeded, you let your double fade away, then left the room, keeping your ability activated all the while.

You can’t kill someone for leaving the mafia if they’re already dead.

You trekked through Yokohama in the pouring rain, your nose bleeding at the prolonged use of your ability. You knew your time was running out, but you needed to hold out. Just for a little longer.

Walking up to the door of a small apartment, you carefully picked the lock, concealing your presence, and stepping inside.

Footsteps light, you walked through the house, spotting your targets crying on the couch together.

Atsushi and Kyouka were both crying, and you decided to wait a bit before revealing yourself.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Kyouka whispered, and you instantly knew they were talking about you.

Why?

“You know, she was getting really good at reading and writing,” Atsushi sniffled. “And she loved to run her hands through my fur. I thought it was weird at first, but she was always so gentle,”

Better rip the Band-Aid off You thought to yourself, deciding you should just reveal yourself and get it over with.

When you did, Atsushi leapt up off the couch in his half tiger form, shoving Kyouka behind him.

His eyes widened once he realized it was you.

“Y-Y/N?”

“Hey, Atsushi,”

A/N: hey. hey,,,, how ya’ll doin?

Okay but in all seriousness, this aint the end. also the dazai/chuuya action in this was PURLEY platonic (absolutely NOTHING against the ship, i just don’t think it fits this fic :)), a reconciliation of friends if you will. Because yes, I do believe they’re friends. Maybe not by conventional standards, but you just don’t see unconditional trust like they have all the time guys.

So uhhh, how we feeling about this? We did get somewhere with readers feelings!!

But seriously guys, I actually typed this all in one sitting (i scrapped the old version of this chapter because i didn't like it) because i hit 105 followers!! i kinda stole my laptop back from my mom so i could publish this, since i still feel really bad for going so long without posting any new stuff.

Make sure ya’ll drink water, eat food, and take proper care of yourselves!!

#chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #angst

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ashes-and-ashes · 4 years

Text

He can barely see through the haze of smoke.

Draco shoves his way through the crowd, elbowing and pushing and kicking. His head throbs, blood dripping from a cut on his scalp into his one good eye. He doesn’t know what happened to the other one - a blast of magic and a searing pain and all he could see out of that eye was darkness.

On any other day Draco’s pretty sure he would have collapsed but right now he’s too high on adrenaline and panic to register anything. He keeps pushing, keeps shoving, anything to get to the center of the crowd, to where Harry was kneeling, Draco’s wand in Harry’s hand and blood all over the stones. He can feel it, a strange tug right under his rib cage, his magic calling out to him like a siren song.

He manages to make it past the crowd of people, but Draco barely manages another step before Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger cut in front of him. There are tracks in the grime on Ron’s face, obviously from tears; Draco thinks about the shock of red hair on one of the corpses and wonders who Ron had lost.

“Get out,” Ron says. His voice is thick with grief, eyes gleaming with tears of pain and tears of rage. “No one wants you here. Get out.”

Draco can just barely see past him to Harry, kneeling motionless on the ground. His head is bent, his hair hiding his face but Draco can tell from the shaking of his shoulders that he was sobbing, hands fisted by his side.

“I can’t,” Draco says. “I have to see him.”

“Get the fuck out!” Ron screams. “You’ve fucking done enough - “

Someone grips his arm hard; Draco blinks as Pansy appears, lips set in a vicious snarl. She’s gripping her wand, so tight her fingers were white where they wrapped around the handle. Flanking her is Blaise and Theo and Greg, a crowd of familiar faces in a pool of hate and Draco feels himself relax just a bit.

“Don’t,” Pansy says, her voice low and hard. “Let him see Harry.”

“Oh you’re here now Parkinson?” Hermione’s face is twisted with anger. “Trying to sell out Harry some more? There’s still some Death Eaters nearby - maybe you can hand him off to them.”

Blaise shakes his head. The usual easy expression he wore was gone, replaced with stone-cold anger. “You’re on thin fucking ice Granger.”

Hermione’s voice is mocking. “Oh I’m terrified. What are you going to do? Kill us off like you did to Crabbe?”

Greg lurches like he was punched, folding in on himself. Draco shakes his head, throwing his arms out to hold back Pansy and Theo even as grief tore a hole in his heart.

“You fucking - “ Blaise starts and Draco cuts him off with a vicious look. Ron lets out a slow laugh at the sight; Blaise merely straightens his robes, an icy glare plastered onto his face.

“I’m sorry,” Draco chokes out. “I’m so sorry.”

Ron’s face is a mask of grief. “Sorry doesn’t bring my brother back.”

Draco bites his lip, hard. Harry’s still shaking on the ground, curled up on himself like someone was kicking him; he swears at the sight. “I know. It doesn’t. And I swear - afterwards you can do whatever you want to me. Throw me in Azkaban, torture me - I don’t give a fuck. But please - let me go to Harry.”

Hermione shrugs. “We’ll take you up on that.”

“You’ve changed, Granger,” Pansy says, as Draco starts forward. “You’re almost as cold hearted as I am.”

Draco barely hears Hermione’s cutting reply. He’s too focused on Harry, the thin set of his shoulders, the matted strands of hair plastered to his skin. One hand’s still wrapped around Draco’s wand, the fingers bloodied and scorched. Draco sinks to his knees in an instant, reaching out for Harry.

“Hey - “

The punch takes him by surprise, a vicious uppercut to the soft bit of his stomach. Draco doubles over in surprise; dimly he hears Ron’s shout, sees Theo throw himself on top of him to keep him back. He winces, spitting a bit of blood out to the side, stomach rolling with pain.

“Fuck,” he says; Harry’s eyes are still distant, lost in that soft world of shock. “Harry. Harry, it’s me.”

He can just barely make out Harry’s face, the paleness of his skin, the bleeding cuts on his cheekbone. Draco almost reaches for Harry again then thinks better, instead placing his hand right next to Harry’s, so close he can feel the heat from his skin.

“Hey,” he says again; he thinks Harry might have blinked, his eyes fluttering just for a split second. “Hey. It’s me. Draco. You made it, Harry. You killed him. You won.”

He inches forward, wraps his finger around Harry’s hand. The punch is hard but Draco’s prepared for it now; he turns, letting Harry’s fist glance off his shoulder instead of his stomach. It hurts, breaking the scabs underneath his robes but Draco doesn’t let go.

“You’re alright,” he says. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, so damn slowly Draco feels Harry start to relax, the trembling easing ever so slightly. He grips harder, letting the touch of his hands be an anchor, pulling Harry in from the rolling storm outside.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, and presses his head against Harry’s, until they were breathing in sync, every exhale and every inhale. He can feel Harry slowly melting into him, the tension leaving his limbs bit by fucking bit. “It’s okay.”

He doesn’t know how long it’s been - an hour, a day, a year - but slowly Harry’s breath becomes easier, his breaths clearing until finally Draco loosened his grip and Harry opened his eyes.

They’re haunted, that fragile gleam of desperation one push away from breaking but Draco lets out a huff of relief anyways. Harry squeezes his hand, so tightly Draco almost winces before letting go.

“Draco,” he says and God his voice was hoarse, like bits of metal grating against stone, like he had been screaming for hours without end. “Fuck. Draco.” He breaks off at the end, burying his face against Draco’s neck; Draco feels his lips moving against skin and shivers.

“Harry,” he says and slowly pulls away, cupping Harry’s face with one hand. He lets his thumb drift along his cheekbone, his heart breaking at his Harry closed his eyes at the contact. “Are you...?”

“Fine,” Harry says. He turns his face into Draco’s palm, his voice broken. “What happened to your eye?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s all...” Harry breaks off. “It looks broken. Like shards of glass exploded.”

“I’m fine.” Draco lets his hand drop, resting on Harry’s hip. “I’m fine.”

Harry laughs, then freezes. His eyes go wide; Draco looks over his shoulder but finds no one beside his friends and Harry’s friends, still watching him with wary eyes. “What?”

“How do I know this is real?” Harry whispers. He gestures, at the room, the ceiling, the shattered windows and cracked floor. “How do I know any of this is real, that it isn’t him - “

Slowly, Draco takes Harry’s hands. He moves them underneath his own shirt, presses them against the skin, right against the scars from Sectumsempta. Harry’s eyes widen at the feeling, the raised lines and deep divots, scars that he had carved onto Draco’s flesh. “Harry. It’s real.”

Harry’s face crumples. He tries to pull away but Draco doesn’t let him, keeps him pulled up against Draco’s skin, fingers pressing into the spaces between his bones. “It’s real.”

Harry shakes his head and then he’s kissing Draco, hard and bloody, the taste of salt and metal in his mouth. They’re both shaking, the knowledge that this could have been it, this could have been the end of them so fresh in their veins, ripping through like strands of light, like the crackling in the air before lightning hit the ground. They’re wildfire the two of them, burning up in a blaze of flames and all Draco can do is hold on and watch himself burn.

“You promise,” Harry says, lips moving against Draco’s. “You promise this is real?”

Draco closes his eyes, breathing in everything; the air, the smoke, Harry, flush against his body, pressed up against his lips.

“Yeah,” he says. “I promise.”

#drarry #drarry angst #drarry fluff #drarry fanfic #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco malfoy angst #harry potter angst #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter fluff #draco malfoy fanfic #harry potter fanfic #draco x harry #harry x draco

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years

Note

Hi Katelyn! How are you doing? :) can I ask you for angsty oneshot with Michael Gray and prompts 2. "if you touch her again it will be the end of you" and 3. "I could take a thousands bullets and none of them would hurt as much as seeing you like this. Its killing me.". Can I ask for something really angsty and emotional? Just struggling with pms and having drama queen mode:ON . Loads of love! :)

Hi love! I’m doing alright, thanks for asking! :)

Here is some angsty shit to help you feel better as I too am a drama queen.

Revenge:

Trigger Warnings: ANGST, Dash of fluff, Mentions or slight descriptions of abusive/violent behavior, Trauma, Fighting, Blood, Slight Gore? Just your standard Peaky shit tbh.

Word Count: 2,002

Characters: Michael Gray x Reader

Summary: A shortcut gone wrong leaves Y/n in the hands of a rival gang member. After escaping, she warns the blinders of what happened causing Michael to exact his revenge.

Requested by: anon

Your breath hitched in your throat as you ran through the dimly lit streets of Small Heath, away from the alley you had just escaped from. Your feet numbing as they grew cold from the damp ground. With weak legs and trembling arms, you flung open the doors to the shop not caring who was there and went straight to the washroom. There you found yourself wincing as you inspected the bruises forming on your skin where the mans hand had closed around your arm too tightly, and the cut that stood out along your cheek where his blade had been.

You shook as sobs came over you as you thought back to what happened. All you were trying to do was take a short cut to work as Tommy had called you in due to some drama with a gang in town, but it ended up taking you longer due to the man you crossed paths with. He blocked you from the main street, following your movements when you tried to walk to the side of him. When he got closer, you managed to hit him, grabbing the gun in your purse shakily as you made out his tall silhouette in the dark alley. You aimed it at him as he lunged forward grabbing your wrist and releasing the gun from your hand with a loud thud. His hand gripping yours so tight that you thought he’d break it. Before you could kick him or try to hurt him anymore, he pushed you towards the wall, making you face towards him as he pulled out a blade, waving it as you screamed. Unfortunately, it was a busy night as they were muffled by the cars and people milling about.

“I”ll cut you if you scream again. Don’t make me hurt that pretty face of yours y/n.” He said, you could see his face as the moon illuminated his skin, a tattoo of a cross on his neck. You remembered in the meeting with your husband Michael, that he was one of the men Tommy was looking for in relation to the gang that was after Tommy’s guns and god knows what.

“How do you know my name?” You asked faintly.

“Any friend of Tommy is an enemy of mine...and I know all my enemies names. Tell Tommy this is a surprise for him. Tell him I know where he is and that he’ll have to try harder to take us down next time.” He said before slicing your cheek, the cut deep enough that you were sure it would leave a scar. As he let you go, he laughed as you cried and held your cheek, blood running down and into your hand at a fast pace. You stood partly in shock as you saw him run north, towards the old factory where previous deals had been made by Tommy.

And so here you were, nursing the gash in your face as your skin paled in complexion.

“Y/n! Sweetheart are you okay?” Michael asked, knocking on the door. The taste of blood and the salt of your tears mixing in your mouth as you spoke.

“N-no. No I’m not please help!” You yelled through the thick wooden door.

Not a second later he came in, seeing blood all along the sink, your dress, your face, and your hands.

He immediately crouched down next to you on the floor as you pulled him to you crying until you felt you couldn’t anymore. After you composed yourself, you pushed him back as you winced at your cut. He quickly got up and went to Tommy’s office to grab a bottle of whiskey, everyone eyeing him as he strode in with your blood on him.

He was fixated on you so much so that he didn’t hear Tommy’s questions about what happened or Polly’s responses, he just closed the door behind him and tended to you. “My god Y/n what happened aye? Did you get into it with someone?” He said dabbing the whiskey soaked cloth on your face gently. You just sat there in a stupor almost as the alcohol burned your cut, still processing everything, still remembering his face and his tattoo.

“Please honey. I need to know what happened.” He said before taking your wrist in his, making you wince as he accidentally grabbed the area that was bruised. He immediately let go as he saw it and you could see his eyes turn dark with anger.

“God damn it Y/n! Who the fuck hurt you?! Just talk to me!” He said yelling and throwing the towel down in defeat. He sat there holding you on the ground, waiting for you to speak.

“Y/n...listen to me, I could take a thousand bullets and none of them would hurt as much as seeing you like this. It’s killing me...please tell me what happened...” He said bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it, your wedding ring sparkling as he examined your hand mindlessly.

You sighed and wiped the tears from your eyes and looked up at him and spoke, your voice raspy from screaming.

“I took the alleyway to get here quicker since Tommy called...and before I could get out of there...a man with a cross tattooed on his neck stopped me. Michael... he grabbed my wrist so hard I dropped my gun and he pushed me to the wall and cut me. He-he said this was a surprise for Tommy, that he knows where he is and that if he wants to take him down then he’s going to have to try harder.” You said, pausing a bit while you regained your composure.

“Michael...I’m thinking he cut me...to send a message. I know from these meetings he’s dangerous and - Michael!” You started to say, before he got up and quickly stormed off towards Tommy’s office. You slowly got up to look at your face, the cut looking better now that the excess blood was washed away, but you were sure you needed stitches.

You walked with the bloodied cloth in your hand and sat next to Polly. She looked at you concerned as she examined your cheek.

“We’re going to get that bastard. Michael told me to get you to the hospital. You’ll need stitches.” She said grabbing her bag.

“Before we go I need to tell them where the man went, I was in shock and fortunately stood there long enough to see where he ran off to I think...” You said. Polly nodded and waited for you to finish up in Tommy’s office.

You walked straight in, not knocking as time was of the essence. Michael was yelling at Tommy as he stood there nodding along, the gears turning in his head at what move to make next as he kept a stone-faced expression as always.

“Michael...” You said, your voice still hoarse. The guys turned around and Michael stopped yelling once you said his name, looking at you with concern.

“I-I saw where he went Tommy. He took off down the street towards that old factory where you all did business last time. I swear he may be there.” You said looking into his ocean eyes.

“Alright. Thank you for the tip. Boys c’mon we have business to take care of.” He said before putting his cigarette out. He walked past you, leaving just you and Michael in the room.

“Please, for the love of god be careful.” You said hugging him.

“I will love, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can okay?” He said.

“Okay.” You said pecking him on the lips before he took off out the door with the rest of them. You sighed and walked to Polly who was putting her coat on. Your stomach tied in knots as you made your way to her car. Not knowing if you’d see Michael coming in as a visitor or a patient.

------------------------------------------------------

At the factory, the smell of smoke filled the air as a group of men sat around a burning pile of scrap metal. They each had cross tattoo’s on their necks and laughed as they talked about plans and various deals. Tommy was the first to show up, with Arthur and John flanking him, guns in hand as they walked over to the nearest people and shot them point blank. Tommy looked at the rounds in his gun and called out into the night. “You wanted to surprise me aye? You chose the wrong fucking way. Come out before I take out more of your men!”

A man quickly ran out from a nearby room of the old factory and stormed right towards Michael as two others shot at Tommy and the others. They ducked down and avoided getting hit and were soon wrestling with the men, trying to disarm them in the process. Michael recognized the man who went for him due to Tommy’s briefing at the meeting earlier and saw he had some fresh blood on his shirt, knowing that was the man who attacked his wife.

The man got to Michael and swung at him, hitting his face a couple of times, leaving a soon-to-be black eye in its wake, along with a couple of gashes from the rings on the mans finger. Luckily, before the guy could cause too much damage, he caught the mans arm and bent it harshly causing it to crack. The man quickly crumpled to the floor in pain and Michael got on top of him and punched him in the face before pulling his cap off. He slashed the guys face deeply, ruining his eye and cutting half a smile on one side enough to tear through his cheek.

The man screamed as Michael did so, as Tommy, Arthur, and John gradually gained control of the other men and shot them.

With an angry look in his eye, Michael threw his cap on the ground and grabbed the mans throat, squeezing until the mans good eye was bloodshot.

“If you touch her again, that will be the end of you.” He said as the man nodded desperately, gasping for air before Michael’s grip tightened, causing him to go unconscious.

After the fight, Tommy let Michael go to the hospital where you were sitting in an exam room just having finished getting stitches on your face. Michael walked in carefully, his eye swollen and face bloodied with scratches as he came over to you. He still had an angry look on his face but it faded once he held you in his arms.

“How are you doing?” He asked, kissing you lightly.

“I’m okay. Doctor said I’ll heal fine apart from a small scar.” You said sadly, hoping he wouldn’t see you as less than because of a small scar.

“Don’t mind that. You look beautiful and I’d rather you have a little scar than be off dead somewhere love.” He said pulling you close to his chest.

You laughed a bit as you wrapped your arms around him, finally relaxing for once that night.

“Did you kill him?” You asked.

“No, I don’t think so. But Tommy and the boys killed the rest of his men. He’ll be sleeping with one eye open from now on, and maybe waking with one too.” He smirking down at you.

“You cut him in the eye?” You asked picturing what happened and shivering at the thought.

“Yeah, and half a bloody smile. He won’t prowl anymore streets unless he wants to terrify all of Small Heath.” He said.

As you both conversed further, the doctor came in to let you know you could go home, eyeing Michael suspiciously as he still looked pretty beat up. He disregarded her concern and smugly smiled at her, nodding as he helped you out, and into the car. You both went straight home per Polly’s orders where you relaxed the night away, remaining thankful for him and his crazy blinder cousins.

#katiesanons #anon asks #anons #michael gray #michael gray x reader #peaky blinders #peakypromptslist #peakyprompts #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic

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rpf-bat · 4 years

Text

Someone Get Me To A Church

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Drama, Horror

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 1. Prompt: “Exorcist”.

You recently started volunteering at a church that provides meals to the homeless. Despite not being particularly religious, you develop a bond with one of the priests there, Gerard. But, when a demonic entity appears on the church’s doorstep, can you and Gerard send him back to Hell, where he belongs?

Trigger warnings for violence, and mentions of alcoholism.

You’d been volunteering at the soup kitchen for about a week now. It was operated by St. Benedict’s Catholic Church. You’d attended Mass there as a kid, but it had been a while since you’d really considered yourself a “practicing” Catholic. Still, the work was relatively easy. Mostly chopping vegetables, and ladling soup into bowls. And it felt good, doing something to help the homeless people in your city.

“We’re about done for the day, Y/N,” smiled Ruth, one of the older volunteers. “The last guest has finished eating. Now, we’ve just got to wash his dishes, and then we can go home.”

Most of the volunteers had left already. The bulk of the dishes were already clean. There had just been a couple people who had come in at the very end of meal service. You’d been waiting for them to finish their lunch, before you closed up for the afternoon.

“If you bring the dishes into the kitchen, I’ll finish washing them for you,” you offered.

“Oh, you’re such a dear,” Ruth said gratefully. “I’ve been using my hands all day. My arthritis is starting to flare up.”

“Go home and take your medicine,” you said gently. “I can handle the rest of it on my own.”

“Thank you,” Ruth replied, handing you a small stack of bowls and utensils. “God be with you!”

“Oh, uh, you, too,” you mumbled, heading into the kitchen. You were surprised to find someone else already standing by the sink.

It was a handsome, black-haired man. You’d seen him walking around with Father Geoff earlier. His white collar, told you that he must be one of the other priests from St. Benedict’s.

“Hello,” you greeted. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that anyone was still back here.”

“I was about to leave,” the man shrugged. “I saw someone had spilled soup on the counters, so I was giving them a wipe down before I headed out.”

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded, setting the dishes down in the sink. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“I’m Gerard,” the man introduced, offering a hand.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, shaking his hand. Wow….his skin is so soft. “It’s nice to meet you, Father Gerard.”

“Oh, I’m not quite a ‘father’ yet,” Gerard chuckled. “I’m just a deacon.”

“What’s a deacon?” you asked.

“I just graduated from seminary school recently,” Gerard explained. “So, I’m still in training. I haven’t taken my final vows yet.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded. He’s still a man of the cloth, you told yourself. So stop thinking about his soft hands….and his pretty face.

“Hopefully, if I do a good job, Father Geoff will ordain me soon,” Gerard said hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can do it!” you assured him.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Gerard chuckled. “Would you like some help with those dishes?”

“Oh, sure,” you said gratefully, handing him a dish towel. “If I wash, can you dry?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Gerard smiled.

You quickly got to work, scrubbing the crumbs off a spoon, and then handing it to him. He wiped it dry, and placed it on the dish rack.

“How long have you been working here, Y/N?” Gerard asked curiously.

“Oh, I just started lasting weekend,” you confessed, handing him a bowl.

“That’s wonderful,” Gerard smiled, wiping the bowl with a rag. “Father Geoff told me that most of the volunteers are older, and have been doing this for years. It’s hard for him, to find younger people, who are interested in joining the program.”

“It’s…..really not that wonderful,” you said sheepishly, looking down at the coffee cup you were scrubbing.

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The truth is,” you sighed, “I’m not going to be with the volunteer program for very long.”

“Why not?” Gerard frowned, taking the cup from you.

“I’m….,” you reddened, ashamed of what you were about to say. “I’m just volunteering here, because my probation officer asked me to.”

“Probation?” Gerard blinked.

“Yeah….I fucked up,” you admitted. “I’m sorry…..messed up. I shouldn’t swear on church property…”

“It’s okay,” Gerard assured you. “Go on….?”

“I did something stupid,” you continued, embarrassed. “I was a first time offender, so they didn’t throw me in jail. Thank God. But, I was given twelve months of probation, and the judge said I have to do 50 hours of community service.”

“What crime did you commit?” Gerard asked.

You looked at the floor. He probably thinks I’m a disgusting sinner, you guessed, cheeks burning.

To your surprise, Gerard took your hand in his. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It was a DUI,” you confessed. “I know, it’s dumb, I should have just called a cab, instead of trying to drive home….I didn’t think. And then I got pulled over, like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Y/N,” Gerard said softly, squeezing his hand. “God loves you, even when you make mistakes. And only He can judge you….I myself, am certainly in no place, to judge anyone.”

“What do you mean?” you looked up into his hazel eyes, confused.

“I may be a man of God now,” Gerard explained, “but in my early twenties, I lived a sinful life, and did many stupid things.”

“Really?” you gasped, surprised.

“Yeah,” Gerard said shyly. “I was….an alcoholic, and a drug user. My family forced me to get help…..Alcoholics Anonymous is a Christian based organization. While I was in rehab, I started reading the Bible a lot. I found Jesus, and that gave me a purpose. The Lord helped me fight my inner demons, and become a better person.”

“I’m really glad that becoming Christian, was able to help you get sober,” you said, squeezing his hand back. “You turned your life around….that’s definitely something to be proud of.”

“Thank you,” Gerard said, touched. “I hope that God helps you to turn your life around, too, Y/N. I know that you can do it.”

You stared into his eyes, overcome with emotion. He was being so sweet to you, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it. His face was so close to your own…..you were tempted to do something you shouldn’t. But, suddenly, you heard a loud crash coming from the dining area.

“What was that?” Gerard gasped.

“I don’t know,” you turned, facing the source of the sound. “I’m going to go check it out.”

You found a man sprawled in the doorway. His hair was short and black, and arms were lined with tattoos.

“Oh my god!” you gasped. “Sir, are you okay?”

You walked over to his side, and offered a hand to help him up. He didn’t look hurt, but something in his gaze seemed….off.

“Please,” the man begged. “I need help….”

“Um….meal service is over,” you informed him, nervous about the way he was still holding onto your arm. “We’ll start serving food again around noon tomorrow, if you’d like to come back…”

“No,” the man shook his head. “I don’t need food….I need you to…..”

“To what?” you wondered.

“Oh, god, it’s too late,” the man gasped. He shoved you away. “You need to run. Now.”

“Run?” you repeated. “Run from what?”

“I can’t hold him back any longer,” the man sobbed.

“Him?” you echoed, still confused.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes turned pitch black. A wicked smirk crossed his face, completely unlike his previous expression. He spoke in a deep voice, that was not his own.

“You cannot save him…..die!”

The man lunged at you, wrapping his hands around your throat. You tried to scream, but he tightened his grip, and you couldn’t breathe.

Why was he doing this?! He had been acting normal just a second ago….why would he attack you? Were you really going to die?

“He..lp,” you pleaded, terrified. “Please….somebody….help!”

“Get your hands off of her!” Gerard cried, punching the man in the jaw. He hit the ground hard, his hands leaving your throat, as he fell backwards. You gasped for air.

“Y/N, who is this guy?!” Gerard demanded.

“I don’t know!” you cried. “I’ve never seen him before in my life!”

The man got up again, and lunged at you once more. His eyes were completely black - no pupils, only sclera.

“Get back, in the name of Christ!” Gerard cried, pulling a small cross from his pocket, and brandishing it at the stranger.

To your surprise, the man retreated. Why did that work?

You got behind Gerard, still frightened. He shielded you with his body, as he pointed the cross at the man again. The man took a few more steps back.

“Who are you?!” Gerard asked.

“Beelzebub,” the man replied.

“What?” you gasped. You’d heard that name before, in a horror movie. “That’s the name of a demon from the Bible, isn’t it?”

“Yes, foolish one,” the man cackled. He pulled a small knife from his back pocket, and advanced on you again.

“Y/N, we need to get out of here!” Gerard warned. He grabbed your arm and pulled you with him as he ran towards the kitchen.

The man pursued you. “Come back here and die, foolish humans!”

“He just called us humans….like he’s not one?” you realized.

“Y/N, run out the back door, now,” Gerard pleaded. “Don’t look back.”

“No, I won’t leave you behind!” you insisted. This psycho is gonna stab him!

The man backed Gerard into a corner, and raised his knife in the air.

“No!” you cried. You grabbed a dirty frying pan out of the sink, and used all of your strength, to whack the man in the back of the head.

He crumpled to the ground. The knife fell harmlessly to the floor with him. You looked down and saw that his head was bleeding.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “What if I killed him?”

“He was going to kill me!” Gerard reminded you. “Thank you, Y/N. You saved my life.”

“You saved mine first, when he was choking me,” you replied.

Your eyes returned to the unconscious man on the kitchen floor, still in shock.

“His head injury actually looks pretty minor,” Gerard said, kneeling down to look at him more closely. “There should be a first aid kit, in the sacristy. Will you help me get him up?”

“You’re going to treat his injury?” you asked, surprised. “He tried to stab you!”

“But I say unto you,” Gerard quoted, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.”

“....What?” you blinked.

“That’s a bible verse,” Gerard clarified. “Matthew 5:44.”

“So….you think helping him, is what Jesus would do?” you guessed.

“Yes,” Gerard said simply. He picked the man up, and threw him over his shoulder.

“....Ok,” you decided, “I’ll help you.” You followed him to the next building over, the church annex.

Gerard is a far better person then I’ll ever be.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard sat the unconscious man in a chair, and started wiping the blood off his brow. You got the first aid kit off the shelf, and handed Gerard a roll of bandages.

“Thank you,” Gerard said, and applied the bandage to the man’s face. “I think he’s going to be okay.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. This stranger had just tried to murder you both!

“Could you get the chain, from the second shelf down?” Gerard asked. “Normally, we use it to lock the church doors at night. But, I think it will work for this, too.”

“....This?” you repeated uncertainly, handing him the object he’d asked for.

Your heart hammered as you watched Gerard tie the man’s hands behind his back.

“....This man is going to need more help from us,” Gerard said grimly.

“What do you mean?”

“Clearly,” Gerard said, looking pale, “this poor soul has been possessed by a demon.”

“Huh?” you laughed nervously. “No way….demons aren’t real.”

“I believe in God and all His angels,” Gerard insisted. “So, I have to acknowledge that the Devil, and his fallen angels, exist, too. Thankfully, the Vatican has a guidebook of sorts, to train priests, how to perform exorcisms.”

“Exorcisms,” you repeated. “Gerard, you can’t be serious.”

“You saw his eyes,” Gerard said quietly.

You shivered as you remembered how the man’s eyes had looked while he was trying to strangle you. Dark. Inhuman.

“And he identified himself, as Beelzebub,” Gerard reminded you. He picked a bible up off the shelf, and handed it to you. “Here, read this!”

You looked at the passage he was talking about - Matthew 12:22:

Then they brought him a demon-possessed man who was blind and mute, and Jesus healed him, so that he could both talk and see. All the people were astonished and said, “Could this be the Son of David?”

But when the Pharisees heard this, they said, “It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this fellow drives out demons.”

“The….the prince of demons?” you repeated, heart pounding. “You’re saying that’s who’s sitting in that chair right now?”

You looked over at the man. He still hadn’t woken up.

“I...I’ve never performed an exorcism before,” Gerard confessed. “To be honest, I’m nervous. But that man….he asked you for help, didn’t he?”

You thought back to what the man had said to you, when you first found him sprawled on the steps. He had pleaded with you for help, before he started attacking you. That must have been the vessel speaking - not Beelzebub. You imagined what it must feel like, to be possessed. To watch your hands choke somebody, but not be in control of them.

“You’re right,” you decided. “We have to help him.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard pulled another book from the shelf, took a deep breath, and began reading from the page.

“Let us pray,” he began.

You crossed yourself, clumsily, and clasped your hands together. You were out of practice - you weren’t sure you being here was going to help at all.

“God, Creator and defender of the human race, who made man in your own image, look down in pity on this your servant, now in the toils of the unclean spirit,” Gerard recited. “Now caught up in the fearsome threats of man's ancient enemy, sworn foe of our race, who befuddles…..”

You jumped as man in the chair stirred, and woke up. He narrowed his unholy, black eyes at Gerard. “Silence!” he demanded. “Be silent, before I break these chains and kill you, you bastard!”

“B-befuddles and stupefies the human mind,” Gerard stammered, thrown off by the interruption.

“Keep going!” you encouraged, even though you were shaking with fear. “Don’t stop reciting the prayer!”

“....Stupefies the human mind,” Gerard went on. “Throws it into terror, overwhelms it with fear and panic. Repel, Oh Lord, the devil's power, break asunder his snares and traps, put the unholy tempter to flight….”

“You think you and this harlot have the holy power to exorcise me?!” the demon snickered. “I know your secrets! Both of you are filled with sin!”

“Y/N, hand me the holy water!” Gerard urged, ignoring Beelzebub’s taunts.

You ran to the shelf, and grabbed the bottle, tossing it to Gerard with shaking hands.

He opened it, and poured a few drops into his hand. Trembling, he approached the man, and drew the sign of the cross in holy water, on his forehead.

The demon screamed in pain, as though Gerard were spraying him with acid.

“By the sign of your name,” Gerard cried, “”let your servant be protected in mind and body!”

“Who are you to call upon Him?!” the demon demanded. “You think He will help you defeat me? Ha! You are unworthy - the both of you are destined for Hell!”

He swiveled his head around, and fixed his unholy black eyes on you. “Does your new priest friend know you are a disgusting drunkard?” he laughed cruelly. “Does he know that you almost killed an innocent child, when you chose to drive home from the bar that night?”

“How…..how do you know that?!” you gasped. You’d swerved at the last second, that night, crashing your car into a retaining wall, instead of the little boy, who had been playing in the street. But you still had nightmares, about what would have happened, if you hadn’t been able to grab the steering wheel fast enough. He’s right. I’m disgusting….I’m an awful person.

“She has confessed her sins, to me, and to a judge, in a court of law,” Gerard said, surprising you. “And she is doing penance for that sin now - working in my soup kitchen, and helping me to save the poor man you’ve possessed. God asks no more of her than this. I am certain He forgives her.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Does he really mean that?

Gerard poured more holy water into his hand, and made another cross, over the man’s heart. The demon howled again, in agony.

“What about your sins, deacon?!” Beelzebub growled. “You are just as vile as she!”

“I know he used to be a junkie,” you said quietly. “But he’s a better man now! God forgives him, too!”

“I speak not of the sins of the past, you fool,” the demon cackled. “I speak of the sin he has committed today!”

“What sin?” you demanded.

“He began thinking lustful thoughts, as soon as he laid eyes on you,” Beelzebub accused.

“What?” you gasped.

Gerard’s face reddened. He turned away from you in shame. Could it be true?

No way, you thought. The demon must be lying, to distract us.

“Gerard, finish the prayer!” you cried.

“Your lecherous desires make you unfit for the clergy,” the demon smirked.

“....I….I’m filth,” Gerard mumbled, staring down at his shoes. “God, forgive me….”

What the hell? Had the demon’s words really thrown him off that much?

“Jesus died for everyone’s sins, right?” you reminded.

“....Right,” Gerard blinked, picking his head up. “He died for your sins, and mine, so that all who accept Him as their savior, can enter Heaven.”

“Jesus loves you - so talk to him, and ask him to help us send this son of a bitch back to Hell!” you urged.

“Right,” Gerard nodded, and began reading from his prayer book again. “O Lord, keep watch over the inmost recesses of this man’s heart; rule over his emotions; strengthen his will. Let vanish from his soul the temptings of the mighty adversary…..”

“I am mightier than anyone!” Beelzebub shrieked. “I am the Prince of Demons! Feel my wrath!”

You screamed as the lights flickered and books started flying off the shelves. You ducked as a book of hymns nearly hit you in the face.

“Stop!” Gerard cried. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“You do not command me, mortal!” Beelzebub snarled. “Watch what happens to those who challenge me!”

Suddenly, you went flying. An unseen force shoved you backwards, pinning you against the wall. You were like a rag doll, controlled by invisible hands. Your head was slammed into the wall, over and over. You screamed with pain. The back of your head began to bleed.

“Please, stop hurting her!” Gerard begged.

“Call off this ritual, and I will do as you ask,” the demon bargained.

“No!” you cried, even as your consciousness began to fade. “Gerard, please! Finish the exorcism!”

With tears in his eyes, Gerard began to pray again:

“Graciously grant, Oh Lord, as we call on your holy name, that the evil spirit, who hitherto terrorized over us, may himself retreat in terror and defeat, so that this servant of yours may sincerely and steadfastly render you the service which is your due; through Christ our Lord! Amen!”

“AMEN!” you cried. Then, everything faded to black.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You woke up in a hospital bed, your head swathed in bandages. The back of your skull still hurt.

How did I get here? you wondered. The room was totally quiet, aside from the beeping of your heart monitor.

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door.

“....Gerard?” you called hopefully.

“Not quite,” said an unknown voice. A black-haired man, with a familiar face, stepped into the room.

“Beelzebub?!” you gasped. Had he come to finish you off?!

You grabbed your IV pole, hoping you could brandish it as a weapon.

“No!” the man said quickly. “Beelzebub is gone!”

“....Oh,” you realized, setting the pole down. So, the ritual had worked. This meant that the man standing before you, was not the demon, but the poor guy who had gotten possessed.

“I’m Frank,” the man introduced. “The nurse told me that your name is Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you said weakly. “That’s me.”

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, that you got hurt, because of me,” Frank said sadly.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, sincerely. “You didn’t ask to have your body taken over.”

“I wanted to thank you, too,” Frank added. “You and that priest saved my life.”

“Do you know where the, uh, priest went?” you asked. You wanted to see Gerard again.

“I think he took off after he drove us here,” Frank confessed. “Apparently, he told the doctors, that we both fell down the cathedral steps, and hit our heads that way.”

“Do you think they actually believed that?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I think they wouldn’t believe the real story,” Frank chuckled, “even if we told them.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A week later, you were released from the hospital. You had made a full recovery. You had told your mom the same lie - that you “fell”. Nobody knew what really happened. You hadn’t been particularly religious in a long time. But now, confronted with the reality that demons existed, you found yourself praying to God to protect you, every time you left your house.

You were out and about today, running errands. You hadn’t meant to stop at the church, but you found your feet walking there before you knew it. There was no Mass going on, at this time of day - the place should be completely empty.

You pushed open the heavy doors, and found that the church was almost empty - except for one. Gerard sat in the first pew, closest to the altar, his head bowed in prayer.

His head snapped up, when the door slammed shut behind you.

“Y/N?!” he gasped, turning around to look at you. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pray,” you replied. “I didn’t know that you would be here.”

“....I’ve been praying a great deal since I last saw you,” Gerard sighed. “Please, come sit down.”

You walked to the front of the church, and slid into the pew beside him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, concerned. “Is your head still….?”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “I had a pretty bad concussion, but I’m better now.”

“Oh, thanks be to God!” Gerard cried, relieved.

“Thanks be to you,” you corrected. “If you hadn’t sent that demon packing, he would have kept using his weird psychic powers to bash my skull in.”

“It was only through God’s power, that I was able to exorcise Beelzebub,” Gerard shrugged. “But, thank you for being there to help me.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence.

“....Father Geoff said he plans to schedule my ordination ceremony, for All Saint’s Day,” Gerard said finally.

“That’s a month from today,” you realized.

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. “In one month, I’m supposed to take my final vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity.”

Chastity. You mulled this word over in your head for a moment. In Catholicism, priests were forbidden to have any type of sexual, or romantic, relationships. Their bodies and minds, belonged only to God.

Gerard knew what the rules of priesthood were, when he decided to go to seminary school, you considered. He was okay with giving up being touched, for the rest of his life.

“You’ve spent years, training to become a full-fledged priest,” you smiled faintly. “You must be very happy, to finally be reaching your goal.”

“I should be happy,” Gerard sighed, “but I’m not.”

“Why not?” you blinked.

“Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Gerard confessed, in a low whisper, as if he didn’t want even God to hear it.

Your eyes widened. “.....Me?”

“Yes,” Gerard flushed.

“Gerard…,” you asked hesitantly. “Was what the demon said, during the exorcism, true? Have you been having….lustful thoughts about me?”

“I have,” Gerard admitted with shame. “God forgive me, but I have.”

“It’s okay..” you said softly.

“It’s not!” Gerard argued. “I’m supposed to be a holy man! I’m not supposed to creep on some pious young woman.”

“I don’t think you’re creepy,” you said quietly. “The truth is…..I’ve been having lustful thoughts about you, too.”

Gerard’s eyes widened. “.....Really?”

“Yes,” you blushed. “The moment I met you, I started thinking about your handsome face, and your soft hands. I wanted to be touched by them.”

“....I haven’t touched a woman since I entered the seminary,” Gerard hesitated. “I thought I was okay with that. I never missed it. But now? Ever since I left you at the hospital, I’ve been dreaming of taking you into my arms, and kissing you.”

“Do it,” you said breathlessly.

“I can’t!” Gerard argued. “I’ve spent the last four and a half years, training my hardest to become a clergyman. Now that I’m on the precipice of everything I’ve worked for, suddenly I fall into temptation?!”

“Why?” you had to ask. “Why would you question your whole career, over someone you’ve only met once?”

“....I’ve seen you more than once,” Gerard revealed.

“Huh?”

“It was on Christmas Eve, a year ago,” Gerard explained. “I was helping Father Geoff with midnight Mass. You came to church with your parents, wearing a gorgeous black dress.”

“I remember that night,” you realized, “but I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“I didn’t give the sermon,” Gerard recalled. “Geoff did, while I performed smaller tasks, like holding the chalice, during Communion.”

“I was feeling kinda sick,” you remembered. “I didn’t take Communion that night, because I was worried I’d spread my germs to the rest of the congregation.”

“After Mass ended,” Gerard went on, “I watched you leave the church. There was a homeless man, sitting outside. You walked over to a hot dog stand, and bought him a meal. Even though you were in fancy clothes, you sat and talked with him for a bit, while he ate.”

“It was just a hot dog,” you shrugged. “They’re only a couple dollars.”

“Only a couple dollars,” Gerard repeated, “and yet, every other person who had just left the church, walked past him, and refused to buy him one, when he begged, and said he was hungry.”

“They just ignored him,” you frowned. “Like they think they’re better than him, or something.”

“Even on the holiest night of the year,” Gerard recalled fondly, “you were the only person who chose to be kind. To me, this was a Christ-like action.”

“Christ-like? Me? No way!”

“I was fascinated by you, and I hoped I would see you again, at the next Mass,” Gerard admitted, “but, you never came back, after that.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “After Christmas break ended, I went back to college. During spring semester, I made some friends who were involved with Greek life. I started going to frat parties, and clubs, a lot more. I would usually get so drunk on Saturday nights, that I would be too hungover, to go to church, the next morning.”

“I see,” Gerard nodded. You expected to him judge you, but there was none of that in his expression.

“....I’ve decided I want to quit drinking,” you said seriously. “Especially after my car accident. Beelzebub wasn’t wrong….I really could have hurt someone.”

“When I first started getting sober,” Gerard said empathetically, “I was a mess. I had made so many mistakes, driven so many people away. I didn’t know who I wanted to be. I didn’t even know, if I wanted to be. But….God saved me. Religion gave me a reason to live. A purpose. That’s why I decided, I wanted to thank God, by dedicating the rest of my life, to Him, and Him alone.”

“But….what if that’s not God’s plan for you?” you asked. “What if He caused you to meet me, because He wants us to be together?”

“Are you saying God wants me to kiss you?” Gerard replied, bewildered.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But, I know that I want you to.”

Gerard couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He pounced on you with a passion that surprised you, knocking you backward onto the pew. His body covered yours as your lips met.

His lips were even softer than his hands. It was like the floodgates had opened. Consumed with desire, you twisted your hands into his hair as he kissed you harder, deeper. You cried out, and the sound echoed against the walls of the empty cathedral.

“We….we can’t do this here,” you gasped. “This is a house of God.”

“And I was meant to be a man of God,” Gerard panted. “But instead, I am now your man. I will be yours, as long as you will have me.”

“Have me right now,” you gasped, pulling him down onto you, for another searing kiss. “Have me forever.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #priest gerard #alcoholic reader #gothtober

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