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michael-aftonz · 6 months

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guess who got back into writing omg... i finally finished this but bear with me, this was the first thing i've written that wasn't academic in literal years but Phew boy. this all stemmed from one single idea and my brain kinda exploded.

DISCLAIMERS:

* vanessa is NOT an afton in this fic. if you believe/hc that she is, this is not the fic for you.

* i DO NOT ship michael and vanessa, anything that happens between them in this fic is platonic + helps to further the plot.

* i am a GAY MALE and can reclaim the f slur.

* this fic contains homophobia and several mentions of the F slur, if this makes you uncomfortable, please skip over this fic or read at your own risk.

* there are descriptions of parental abuse and manipulation. there are also descriptions of anxiety attacks. if these topics make you uncomfortable, please do not read or read at your own risk!

* this is supposed to be set in the early 1980s so i tried to fill it with pop culture from that time, if it seems inaccurate please let me know and i'll find an alternative!

word count: 10,333 words 😦

name: i honestly hadn't thought of one Whoops. if you have any ideas let me know!

characters: michael afton, jeremy fitzgerald, vanessa shelly, william afton and mrs. fitzgerald.

ships: michael afton x jeremy fitzgerald

The three childhood friends were hanging out as usual, playing a very intense game of “truth or dare.” However, things were not turning out the way Michael had hoped. It was his turn once again and his friend Vanessa had an evil grin that spread from ear to ear.

“Okay, Mikey,” she started, practically erupting with excitement, “truth or dare.”

Now, Michael was never one to turn down a dare. However, he felt that this would only end badly. But then again, when was he known to listen to his instincts?

“Dare.”

Vanessa pretended to think for a moment before spouting out, “I've got it! You have to kiss everyone in this room.”

“Seriously, Van?” Michael rolled his eyes, but noticing that Vanessa was, indeed, serious he let out an exasperated groan. “Ugh, fine. But I better not find a polaroid of this on your wall later.”

Easy enough: all he had to do was kiss both Jeremy and Vanessa. No big deal. Besides, it wouldn't mean anything, right?

Michael scooted towards Vanessa first, who made quite a dramatic show of poking her lips out and pointing at them with her index finger. He leaned in and it was over without much further thought.

Now, he turned to his best friend - Jeremy Fitzgerald - and gave a little awkward smile.

“If this is too weird, Mike, I can have her give you another dare. I'm pretty sure she just wanted you to kiss her, anyway,” Jeremy spoke. He was always so considerate.

“It's only weird if you make it weird, man. Besides, a dare’s a dare.”

Michael took a deep breath and pressed a kiss onto Jeremy’s lips. However, this one was different than the previous one. While he felt nothing with Vanessa, his entire body felt like it had gotten set on fire. His heart rate quickened and suddenly the walls felt like they were close in around him. He couldn't breathe.

The only thing that jolted him back to reality was a familiar British voice going “Michael? Your siblings and I are back from the workshop.”

Michael quickly came back to his senses and backed away from Jeremy. He wiped his lips and made a show of being remotely disgusted.

“Ew, Jer, what did you eat? I swear, your breath smelled like salt and vinegar chips.” Michael teased, trying his hardest to make sure no one else noticed his racing heart. What he couldn't figure out, though, is why he had such a different reaction to Jeremy’s kiss than Vanessa's. Maybe, he thought, it's because it wasn't right. Yeah, I'm supposed to kiss girls - not boys. That's the only reasonable explanation; my brain is trying to rationalize why I'd kiss Jeremy of all people.

The night continued semi-peacefully, no other heart racing dares occurred - which Michael appreciated.

The day ended and Michael’s friends went home, leaving him to his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he kept thinking about the events from earlier in the day - more specifically, the kiss between Jeremy and himself. He grabbed his walkman, rewound the tape, and put the headphones over his ears. If he couldn't hear how loud his heart was beating, he could ignore the noise inside his head too. All he needed was to melt into the music. And to never confront this problem. Ever.

Michael drifted off into a fitful sleep - tossing and turning every second. His mind kept returning to his best friend’s kiss; the warmth he felt throughout his entire body, the loud beating of his heart, and the short moment where he could swear he felt Jeremy kiss back. It was all too much for him to handle right now. He needed to talk to someone. Normally, he'd call Jeremy and invite him over, but these circumstances were very different.

He sighed and walked to the landline before imputing the all too familiar number.

She picked up right away, which wasn't surprising.

“Mikey? Is something wrong?” Vanessa's voice sounded through the speaker, full of concern. Michael never called her this late.

“Hey, Ness.. I- uh.. Can you meet me at the park?” Michael whispered, trying his best not to worry his friend any more than he already had.

“Sure thing. But, Mikey, you need to tell me if something is wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll tell you when we get there, okay? It's… hard to explain.”

He didn't even wait on her reply before he hung up the phone and ran to grab his windbreaker. Carefully, he slid open the window and climbed through - making sure not to make any noise. Once he made it through, he silently closed the window all but a crack. He'd need to get back in somehow.

He noticed Vanessa's brightly colored sweater and walked over.

“Thanks for coming. I really needed someone to talk to.” He smiled slightly and pulled her into a hug.

“Of course. You can always talk to me, Mike.” Vanessa smiled back and motioned for the two of them to sit on the bench.

The two sat down and Michael exhaled.

“Vanessa, have you ever… Ugh. I don't know how to word this.” Michael started, slowly hiding his face in his hands.

Vanessa placed a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulders and made a “go on” gesture.

“When you kiss someone, right, you're supposed to… I don't know. Feel something?” Michael continued - growing increasingly more frustrated.

“Typically, yes. If you like that person.” Vanessa replied, a curious look on her face. Could this be what she had hoped?

Michael took another deep breath.

“Vanessa, this might be a weird request.. But.. I need to know if I'm going crazy or not. I.. I need you to kiss me again.”

Vanessa looked at him like he'd just grown two heads.

“You're right, Mike. That is weird. You're being really weird right now.”

“Ness, I know it's strange. I need to test something. Please just do this one thing for me and I won't ask anything weird of you ever again.” Michael pleaded, looking towards his friend.

Vanessa thought for a moment before nodding. She leaned in and placed a small kiss on his lips. Michael waited patiently for something to happen and… Shit Nothing. No electricity, no loud heart beating. Michael pulled away and shrugged.

“Vanessa… You said you were supposed to feel something if you kissed someone you liked, right?” Michael spoke, pursing his lips together and debating if he should actually tell her what was on his mind.

“Mike, you're a great friend… But I don't see you that way,” Vanessa replied, placing a small hand on Michael’s shoulder in a sort of “let him down easy” gesture.

Michael couldn't help but laugh at this. “Vanessa.. I wasn't talking about our kiss. I.. uh.”

Vanessa looked incredibly confused and if she raised her eyebrow any more it might possibly leave her head.

“When.. when we played truth or dare.. Um.. and you told me to kiss everyone in the room.. Well. uh..” Michael stammered, trying to piece his thoughts together, “something.. Happened when I kissed Jeremy. It felt ‘different’ when we kissed than when I kissed him. It felt.. like lightning was coursing through my body. My heart felt like it was going to explode. It was so loud. And then with you.. There was nothing. I really just felt like you needed some chapstick..” He rambled on, looking down and fidgeting with the zipper on his windbreaker.

Vanessa looked oddly relieved that Mike wasn't confessing his feelings for her.

“Mikey, it sounds to me that you might have yourself a little crush on our friend Jerry.” She smiled and patted her friend on the back.

“That's the problem.. I'm not supposed to,” Michael sighed, placing his head into his hands once again, “do you have any idea how my Dad would react if he found out that I…” He shook his head and trailed off.

Vanessa’s smile slightly dropped, “Well.. Don't tell him. Don't tell your Dad. Have you even thought about telling Jeremy?”

“No! I can't tell Jeremy. What if he laughs at me? What if he never wants to see me again? Vanessa, he's my best friend. I can't have him thinking of me like that…” Michael began to sniffle and he hid his head even further.

His friend moved to pat his back but Michael quickly shot off the bench. All his tears began to turn into anger.

“I already get so much shit for my dorky little sister and my wimpy little brother. Do you know how much more I’d get for being a fucking faggot?” He huffed and began to storm back toward his house.

“Mike, wait!”

“You have it so easy, Vanessa! You don't understand.” And before Vanessa could even utter the first syllable of her next word, Michael had already left the park and trudged back towards his house.

He crept back inside the window and marched toward his room - still making sure to be quiet. However, when he was in to his room, he shut his door and angrily threw this windbreaker towards his bed.

Michael sniffled once again, reaching for his walkman and quickly placing the headphones on his ears. As his tape began to play, Michael tucked his head between his knees and tears began streaming down his cheeks.

He had never quite mastered the act of silent crying, but he wasn't as dramatic as his younger brother, either. Michael hated how weak he felt when crying, he also hated how imaginary words from William could ruin his evening.

Michael, himself, didn't even understand why he felt this way about Jeremy. He only knew two things: one, for some reason, he desperately wanted to kiss Jeremy again and two, his father would most likely kill him if he found out. Oh, and three, he hated himself for feeling like this - especially about his friend.

After a few more minutes of quietly sobbing against his bedroom door, Michael had finally stopped crying. He sniffled once again and wiped off his face.

Michael looked up at the flashing alarm clock on his nightstand. 6:00 am. He realized he hadn't slept much the night before - and the guilt of snapping at Vanessa was weighing on him. I should apologize, Michael thought to himself, she was only trying to help, after all.

He took off his headphones and neatly placed his walkman back on the nightstand. He walked outside his bedroom door and noted a small plush fox sitting there with a note that read: Heard you crying. I left my friend because they make me feel better.

Upon reading the note, Michael’s anger slightly returned from the night before. The Crybaby is making fun of me? He picked up the plush toy and ripped apart the seems before throwing it down the hallway.

He scoffed and walked out the door, intent on seeing Vanessa first and apologizing. While on his way towards his friends house, he noticed Jeremy heading the same way. Had Vanessa invited Jeremy here? Did Vanessa tell him what happened between herself and Michael last night? He really hoped not. Yes, Michael had snapped at Vanessa, but he told her everything in confidence.

He tried his best to avoid Jeremy, but something about hm seemed different. Michael couldn't stop noticing little details about him: The way his hair swayed when he walked, the clink of all the patches on his bag, the ever present smile on his face. All of these things were just distracting Michael. He came to apologize to Vanessa, not stare at his best friend.

Michael shook himself out of his stupor and he gave a small wave to Jeremy before going to Vanessa’s door and knocking.

As soon as the door opened, Michael was already rambling.

“Ness, I'm so sorry about last night. I didn't mean to snap at you.. I was just… you know. Overwhelmed.” He pushed himself inside the doorframe and wrapped his friend into a hug.

Vanessa simply nodded and hugged Michael back, “Mikey, I knew you'd be here to apologize so… I invited Jeremy, too. I think you two need to talk.”

A look of shock crosses over Michael's face, but before he could say anything, Jeremy walked in to the room.

“Van? You said you wanted to see me?” Jeremy asked, his voice causing the hair on the back of Michael's neck to stand up.

“Actually, Jerry, Mike has something he needs to talk to you about.” Vanessa responded, smiling from ear to ear. “I'll just be in the other room. You two can talk.”

Michael gave her a subtle “I am going to murder you later” look as Vanessa left the room. Soon, it was just him and Jeremy standing in the walkway of Vanessa's home.

Jeremy gave his typical reassuring smile, which caused Michael's heart to do jumping jacks.

“What's up? Is.. is your dad being weird again?” Jeremy asked, genuine concern filling his voice, and he moved to place a caring hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“That's.. that's the thing, Jer. You’re always so thoughtful and.. you care so much about Vanessa and I. It's really sweet,” Michael started, his nerves being to bubble in his stomach.

“Okay…? I don't really understand what this has to do with anything.. Am I too nice?” Jeremy looked utterly confused (and concerned). He honestly had no idea where this was going but he wanted to be supportive of his friend.

Michael smiled at Jeremy’s response, shaking his head lightly. “No, you're not too nice. You're.. the right amount of nice. I always appreciate everything you do for me. However, I didn't realize that until recently.” He was silent for a moment, weighing how to proceed next. “Jeremy, can I ask you a serious question?”

“Of course, Mike, You can ask me whatever you want. I'll try my best to answer.” Jeremy nodded and sent another reassuring smile at Michael.

Michael took a deep breath and nodded. I'm going to do this. I'm actually going to do this. “Did you… feel.. uh.. feel anything when,” his cheeks flushed a light pink and he began speaking again, much quieter this time, “when we kissed…?”

“I'm sorry? I didn't hear that last part, Mike. Can you repeat that?” Jeremy furrowed his brows, turning his head to his right side – as he is partially deaf in his left ear and hears better on his right side.

Michael closed his eyes and began repeating what he just said, “Did you feel anything… when we kissed?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened slightly and he raised an eyebrow, “Well.. nothing I don't usually feel when I'm around you. What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

Michael was slightly disappointed and then he realized Jeremy asked for clarification. “I mean like.. I don't know. When- when we kissed.. It felt like my body was on fire. My heartbeat was so fast and.. to be honest, I.. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry if this was weir-” He was quickly interrupted by the soft press of Jeremy’s lips against his own. Michael's eyes widened but, once he got his bearings, he leaned into the other.

Jeremy pulled away after a few seconds - but not being the all too familiar shutter-click of Vanessa's polaroid camera went off - and smiled brightly up at Michael.

“I hope that answers your question, Mike.” Jeremy laughed, his own cheeks. “I was really wondering when you'd notice. I.. uh.. I've liked you for a very long time.”

Michael's eyes were still wide and he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. His cheeks were now a bright red. However, he soon snapped out of his daze and realized he heard the camera click.

“Vanessa, PLEASE tell me you didn't take a picture of that!” Michael moved away from Jeremy and pratically sprinted towards the other room.

“Mike, wait!” Jeremy called out as he followed after his two friends.

Vanessa was busy trying to hide and dodge underneath several pieces of furniture while Michael chased her.

“Ness, please give me that picture. You don't know what will happen if my Dad find that. And you know how often he visits your dad. They literally work together.” Michael pleaded, crouching down to try and yank Vanessa out from underneath her bed.

“Fine, fine. Only because you're my friend, Michael. But you owe me film!” Vanessa caved, crawling out from underneath the bed and reluctantly handing over the polaroid.

Michael made a small movement of triumph, however, he quickly turned embarrassed when he took a closer look at the picture (which had almost fully developed by now). Apparently, Michael had placed his hand on the base of Jeremy's neck without noticing and the photo made it look as if he was pulling him in closer.

“So..,” Vanessa started as she took her two friends by their wrists and plopped them down on her bed, “did you two decide what you're going to call.. this?” She motioned to the two of them and raised her eyebrow. “I mean, if you decide to call it anything, that is.”

The boys shrugged and looked at each other. They were both silent for a moment and Jeremy finally spoke. “I know that your dad is.. kinda weird about this type of stuff, but my parents are cool with it. And.. if you're comfortable with it, I'd like to call myself your boyfriend, Mike. At.. at least to my parents.”

Michael remained silent for a moment, thinking over the options. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed his hand inside of Jeremy’s.

“I'd really like that, Jer. I'm just sorry that I can't tell my family. I mean, if my Mom was still here, she'd be supportive.” Michael replied as a small smile spread across his lips. Jeremy nodded and simply pulled him into a side hug. However, the cute moment was soon interrupted by Vanessa throwing herself in between the two and snapping another picture before they could protest.

“At least let me keep this one! It's just the three of us, so it's not incriminating!” Vanessa asked, already moving to make a sprint if she needed.

“Fine, fine. I have no objections there.”

The rest of the evening continued in much of the normal fashion: the three of them playing various games and making fun of each other. However, Michael caught himself glancing over at Jeremy more frequently. Soon, Michael knew it was time to head home.

“Hey, Mike, do you mind if I tag along on your walk home? I live a few minutes away from your place.” Jeremy asked, jogging up beside Michael after he walked out of Vanessa’s house.

Michael nodded with a smile. He'd secretly been hoping that Jeremy would suggest this. He loves Vanessa and all, but he wanted a few moments of just himself and Jeremy.

The lanky boy walked next to Michael and reached for his hand. Michael hesitated for a moment, looking around the neighborhood for any sign of his father, before taking Jeremy’s hand.

They continued on their walk until they were at Michael's doorstep. He said his goodbyes and - even though it hurt his heart - waved instead of sending Jeremy off with something more affectionate.

He fumbled with the door knob, the door then swung open and the creaky hinges alerted anyone within a 1,200 mile radius. Michael physically recoiled at the sound and entered the house - hoping for less noise.

He had made it less than a foot from the door before the trouble began. He noticed it instantly: the disappointed look in his father’s eyes. What did I do now? Michael thought, bracing himself for the worst possible outcome.

“Michael,” the agitating voice stated.

Well. Better get this over with.

“Father,” Michael replied, trying not to make the grit in his teeth obvious with his speech. He hated called William anything formal, especially since he was the only one of his siblings who had to.

“Do you have ANY idea of the distress you caused?”

“No, sir.”

“You know exactly what you did. Your poor brother came into my workshop crying. Do you know why that was?”

“Isn't the little shit always crying?”

“Don't get smart with me, boy. And, you will not use that kind of language when speaking to me, or this will get a whole lot worse for you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael grits his teeth even harder.

“Now, your brother comes to me, and in his hands are the pieces of a prototype product for my new animatronic line. The fox plush.”

Shit.

“Michael, I will ask you one time. What did you do to the product?”

“I didn't know it was important, Father. He was making fun of me and I thought - Hey, he has enough toys. He won't miss this one. I destroyed it... to teach him a lesson.”

“Destroyed it to teach him a lesson? Fascinating. And how would you feel if something like that happened to your precious walkman? Or.. those.. cassette tapes with those grotesque songs you seem to enjoy? Hmm?”

Michael's face fell and he reared back in horror.

“You wouldn't.”

“Oh, believe me, Michael. I would. As a matter of fact, go pick out your favorites and bring them to me. Along with the scissors.”

This completely ruined his good mood from today, but he knew that there was no getting out of this. Michael begrudgingly went into his bedroom, crouched down, and riffled through his box of cassette tapes. Of course, he was smart enough not to choose his actual favorites. He chose some he wouldn't mind losing (probably those he was recommended and didn't like as well as the others) and stashed his favorites inside of his sock drawer - along with the polaroid of himself and Jeremy.

Michael hesitated before handing several tapes and a pair of sharp scissors to his father. He cringed as his father opened the latch that concealed the tape and began unwinding - cutting each segment until all that was left was a pile of tape shreddings and several plastic cases.

“I hope you've learned your lesson, Michael. If this happens again, I will fish around for every single tape you've hidden. Now, clean this up.”

Michael gulped in surprise; how did his father know he had hidden several tapes? His mouth remained agape as he bent down and began cleaning up the remains of his music taste.

The staleness of the room only dimmed his mood: the too dark carpet with mysterious stains, the uneven curtains with several moth-eaten holes, the overall greyness of the place. It wasn't a mystery why William had destroyed his tapes, the man clearly had a love of all things boring and soulless.

Once he had finished, Michael knew he couldn't stay here. He entered his bedroom, making sure to lock the door the from inside. He looked around for a bit before grabbing a draw-string bag from his closet and began stuffing clothes inside of it. All packed, Michael once again cracked open his window and crept outside - leaving it open enough for him to enter once he got back. If he came back, of course.

He really only had one place to go - and the fact that there was only one person he wanted to see.

The gloomy atmosphere from his apartment seemed to drift out into the streets: the skies were much darker than before and there was a certain musk that meant it was going to rain soon. Because of Michael's quick packing, he was ill-prepared for the rain.

Better walk fast, I guess. I've still got three blocks to go. Michael thought to himself, tugging on the strings on his bag to ensure it was secured. However, the rain came much faster than he could walk and soon he was drenched - with still a block and a half to go. There looked to be no end in sight for the sudden monsune of rain. Just my luck. Just my fucking luck.

He began sprinting, his brightly colored sneakers squeaking against the pavement and his body getting continuously soaked. By the time he arrived at Jeremy’s, he looked like a kitten someone had just given a bath - completely soaked and fuming. He hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door.

Who answered, however, was not who he expected. A polite, older woman (who he knew as Mrs. Fitzgerald) answered the door with a look of utter concern.

“Michael, honey! You're soaking wet.” Her smooth voice radiated with motherly concern and the slight southern twang made everything feel more homey.

“I apologize for showing up uninvited, Mrs. Fitzgerald.” Michael replied sheepishly, “I.. I can leave if it's too much of a bother.”

“Nonsense! You get in here and dry off. I'll let Jeremy know you're here. It's a wonder you didn't get swept away in this terrible storm,” Mrs. Fitzgerald replied, opening the door wide enough to let Michael in before closing it to prevent any more cool air from seeping in.

Michael thanked the woman once again and politely wiped his feet on the mat. Mrs. Fitzgerald turned around and looked at his clothes once more.

“Oh dear.. You're completely soaked through. Don't worry, I'm sure either Jeremy or my husband have something you can borrow. I'll get those washed and dried for you soon, sweetheart. You stay right here. I'll go find you something nice.”

Michael nodded, having really no other option than to wait for Mrs. Fitzgerald to come back. Soon the woman returned with a large pile of clothing - from t-shirts with interesting tie-dye patterns to large, oversized sweaters that Michael was pretty sure he could use as a blanket if he needed to. He was soon completely dried and dressed from head to toe in the warmest clothes Jeremy’s mother could stuff him in. He quickly handed his sopping wet clothing to Mrs. Fitzgerald and gave her another round of thanks.

As he did this, Jeremy practically ran down the stairs.

“Mike? Is something wrong?” The blonde asked, concern filling his voice. He moved closer and began checking Michael’s hands and arms for any sign of injuries.

“I'm fine, Jer, seriously.” Michael gave him a reassuring smile and placed a caring hand onto his shoulder, “can we just go talk in your room? I.. I couldn't stay at home tonight.”

Jeremy nodded and motioned for Michael to follow him up the stairs. Once upstairs, Michael was simply blown away. This room was basically identical to the person who lived in it: colorful, full of life, and it had a sort of “I'm at home” feeling. Jeremy’s room at everything - from too many blankets to count to the newest NES system. Michael had only been in here once before, as the three of them usually went to his house or Vanessa's, but it still amazed him how much it replicated Jeremy’s personality.

Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed and motioned for Michael to join him, to which he quickly obliged. The two talked for a while - mostly just Michael avoiding the topic he originally intended to talk about - and eventually Michael grew restless of sitting and laid himself across Jeremy’s lap. Jeremy smiled down at him and absentmindedly began twirling a strand of Michael's long hair around his finger.

“Mike, can you please tell me what happened? I know when you're avoiding talking about something.” Jeremy scolded, a small pout forming on his lips. He had been Michael’s best friend for year, of course he was going to pick up on the little things - especially when Michael wasn't being entirely truthful.

“Fine, fine. I did something stupid, okay? That brat of a brother I have heard something he shouldn't have and I decided he needed a little payback,” Michael started, slightly embarrassed that he'd have to tell this to Jeremy - of all people - because Jeremy was part of the reason he did this, “anyway, so.. I took one of his plush toys that he left in my doorway and I.. ripped it up.”

Jeremy raised his eyebrow, as if to question why this meant he was not able to stay home, but he didn't interrupt Michael.

“Well, it turns out that it didn't actually belong to the little shit. It was something Father was working on. A prototype, I don't know,” Michael made a shrugging gesture and continued with his explanation, “Either way, let's just say he wasn't too thrilled about the damage done to it. And uh.. several of my tapes got the axe. I managed to hide the best ones, but I doubt they'll last for long.”

“That's.. awful. Mike, I'm so sorry.” Jeremy’s frown deepened and he brushed a small strand of Michael’s hair away from his face.

“Nah, I probably had it coming. He just.. he makes me so angry sometimes, Jeremy. I fight so hard for his attention and yet some snot nosed crybaby gets it for free? How is that fair?” Michael's face morphed into a frown and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Aw, Mike. I'm sure he doesn't mean to ignore you. Look, you're wonderful. If he doesn't see that, than it's his problem.” Jeremy leaned over, making his face a few inches away from Michael's, and placing a hand on his chin.

Seeing that Michael’s frown still remained, Jeremy pressed a small kiss against his lips. And another. And another. Until Michael finally smiled and playfully pushed him off.

“Jer, you're going to suffocate me,” Michael teased, laughing as he kept his hand up to prevent any further kiss attacks.

“Well, it's not my fault! I couldn't just let you be sad.”

Michael rolled his eyes and gave Jeremy one more playful shove, “Jeremy Fitzgerald, you are insufferable.” However, Michael was glad for the distraction. He moved from his position on Jeremy's lap and laid down across the end of the blonde’s bed - spreading out like a starfish. Tonight was just perfect; absolutely nothing could ruin Michael's night.

Or so he thought.

–

Back at Michael’s house, everything was not as peaceful as the Fitzgeralds’. William was knocking on Michael's door - but he received no response, obviously.

“Michael? I told you not to lock your door.”

Silence.

“Michael?”

More silence.

William tried the handle one more time, getting increasingly more angry when it continued not to open.

William walked outside, retracing what little footsteps hadn't been washed away in the rainstorm. However, Michael's “sneaky escape” hadn't been as sneaky as he had hoped. William instantly noticed the trampled flowers which Michael had climbed down onto. This caused him to look up and notice the window slightly ajar.

Michael, Michael, Michael.. Oh, I wish I raised you better. William thought to himself, shaking his head with a loud “tsk-tsk.” He quickly hoisted himself onto the ledge and opened the window - making sure to close it at just the right height to make it seem unnoticeable in case Michael returned sooner than he expected.

You've brought this on yourself, Michael. William tsk’d once again before he began rummaging through Michael’s drawers - taking any tape he could find. When he got to the last drawer, however, he noticed something that wasn't.. quite a tape. It was flipped upside down, but it was evident that it was a polaroid of some kind.

William pondered for a moment before picking it up and flipping it over to check the contents. He reared back in horror upon seeing what it was: a picture of his son and some blonde boy together.

William was seething as he crumpled the photo in his palm and he began searching faster for the remaining tapes. Once he had them, William placed all the tapes into a bag and - after unlocking the door - took them outside and grabbed one of his favorite instruments: the hammer.

Smash!

Crunch!

Crack!

William hefted the hammer over his shoulder again and again until there was nothing left but shards of plastic and several unwound tapes. His breathing grew ragged as his anger continued to overtake him. Eventually, he placed the hammer down and stood up - dusting off his pants and walking back inside.

Now, he needed to wait for Michael to return. And where else than his son’s bedroom.

–

Michael had closed his eyes and was listening to the sounds of Jeremy’s room, which were all incredibly calming. He could hear the faint rain against Jeremy's window, the sound of his own breathing, the emptiness in his mind. Everything was quiet, just as it should be. He heard the creak of the steps and the following soft click of the door opening. Jeremy had stepped out a while ago to find them some snacks, and apparently, he had succeeded. The sound of rustling chip bags (and Jeremy struggling to get inside the door) shook Michael out of his stupor and he quickly went to help, opening the door wide enough for Jeremy and his armful of prizes to enter.

“My knight in shining armor,” Jeremy joked, sending a bright smile towards Michael. “I was wondering when you'd open the door.”

“Oh, really? Did I not move fast enough for you, your highness?” Michael teased back and sent and eyeroll towards the blonde. “Here, let me help you.” He grabbed a few of the spoils from Jeremy’s arms and arranged them in a makeshift pile - it wasn't neat, but it was the best he could do without putting them on the floor.

Jeremy thanked him before placing the remaining spoils into the pile - they had enough snacks to last for weeks. Michael sat down and scooped out a handful of chips, popping one into his mouth and occasionally trying to catch them. Jeremy plopped himself down next to Michael and leaned his head against his shoulder. This caused Michael to widen his eyes in surprise. He really didn't know what to do in this situation. He hadn't been in a relationship before - let alone with someone like Jeremy. He hesitated and then placed his hand on Jeremy's lower back.

A soft knock on the door caused Michael to look up. Michael felt his pace quicken: this would be one of Jeremy's parents, which worried him. He knew they were more accepting than his own Father, but he also didn't know what they would be willing to accept. Plus, Jeremy was currently laying against him - which would be hard to explain if they weren't accepting.

Before he could think, the door slowly opened and Mrs Fitzgerald stuck her head inside.

“Oh! Sorry, boys. I didn't realize you were busy! I made some cookies and I.. I wanted to share some with you,” She spoke, slightly embarrassed that they already had so many snacks.

“No thanks, Mom. We’re good,” Jeremy spoke, smiling at his mother. He thought for a moment before adding, “Hey.. Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Come in here.. Uh. Mike and I want to tell you something,” Jeremy spoke, briefly standing up to open the door and motion for his mother in.

Michael locked eyes with his boyfriend as if telepathically saying “are we really doing this??” Jeremy simply laughed in response and walked back over to Michael, offering the brown haired boy his hand. Michael hesitated before taking Jeremy's hand and standing up next to him.

Jeremy took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulders. “Mom.. Michael and I.. are,” he begun shaking a little and Michael quickly turned his head towards Jeremy and gave a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. He quietly whispered something encouraging to the blonde and turned back towards Jeremy’s mother.

“Mom. Michael and I are.. dating. He's my boyfriend,” Jeremy finally managed to speak the words (and release the breath he didn't know he was holding) and then he looked towards his mother, awaiting her response.

Jeremy's mother was silent for a while and then she broke out into a big grin. She moved closer to the two boys and wrapped them into a hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm so happy for you. Thank you so much for telling me,” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke softly, moving her hands and gently cupping Jeremy’s face.

“Mooom, you're embarrassing me,” Jeremy complained, trying to wriggle out of his mother’s grasp. Michael couldn't help but smile at the scene, however, something inside him hurt. He realized he could never experience this situation. To be honest, it made him jealous. But he'd never tell Jeremy that, of course. Just because Michael's family had not been the best didn't mean he needed to ruin someone else’s happiness.

“Oh, Michael, get in here! Let me give you a big hug. You have no idea how happy my Jeremy-Bear is when he talks about you,” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke, quickly moving to drag Michael into the hug once again before he could protest. “I'm very proud of both of you boys. I know it's tough to tell someone something like this.”

She gave them each one more tender, motherly arm squeeze before exiting back down the stairs.

“Your mom is so sweet, Jer,” Michael spoke once Mrs. Fitzgerald had left, though he didn't seem to notice the sadness that had seeped into his voice. But Jeremy did. He always did. He felt Jeremy's arms wrapped around him before he heard him move.

“She loves you, Mike.” Jeremy spoke softly, his grip tightening slightly around the shorter boy.

Michael smiled sadly and nodded before burying his head in the crook of Jeremy's neck. “I'm glad someone does, at least.”

“Don’t you dare say shit like that again, Michael Afton. You have so many people who care about you - my parents, Vanessa, Vanessa’s parents, me! Your dad can go to hell.”

Michael sort of shrugged, but made no effort to respond. Jeremy moved back a bit, gripping Michael by both shoulders, and shook him.

“I’m serious. You're so important to everyone around you. Who cares what your father thinks?”

“Sorry-”

“No. You have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault. Life dealt you a bad hand - but, Mike, you're the strongest person I know. Most people would've crumbled by now.” Jeremy cut him off before Michael could apologize any more, cupping the sides of his face so Michael was looking him in the eye.

“I'm so tired, Jeremy. Everyday he gets worse, I never know when he’ll snap next.”

“Yes, but you shouldn't have to! That's the thing.”

“Please.. can we just drop it?” Michael avoided Jeremy’s gaze and began fidgeting with the sleeves of his borrowed sweater.

“You're right, I'm sorry,” Jeremy apologized and released Michael's face. Then, he realized that Michael probably was physically tired, too. “C'mon, let's head to bed. It's been a wild day. Plus, the rain doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. I'm sure my Mom wouldn't mind you staying the night.”

Before Michael could respond, Jeremy had moved away and began untucking the layers of blankets that seemed to hide his bed.

Jeremy grabbed Michael's wrist and gently pulled him towards the bed and sat him down.

“You can use as many blankets as you want, I don't mind!” Jeremy beamed. He then preceded to have an “oh!” moment and disappeared inside his closet. Michael heard lots of rummaging and his curiosity continued to grow. Soon, Jeremy emerged once again. This time, he was holding a pair of pajamas with various pictures of E.T. littered across them.

“They might be a little big, but you can borrow them for the night,” Jeremy spoke as he walked over and placed them in Michael’s hands, “unless you want to sleep in old jeans..?” He raised an eyebrow, though it was nothing more than teasing.

Michael rolled his eyes, thanked Jeremy, and quickly went to change into the pajamas. Once he returned, he nearly folded his borrowed clothing and placed them on the nearest flat surface. He hesitated a bit - unsure of where he should lay down. However, Jeremy quickly patted the spot next to him on his bed.

“I don't mind sharing, really. And! I don't bite. Mostly,” Jeremy reassured the shorter as he scooted over to make room. “Besides, we did this at plenty of sleep overs before. Just think of it like that!”

Michael nodded and laid down next to Jeremy, who gave him another reassuring smile. “Thanks. I'm sorry for imposing myself on you, especially without calling first.” He whispered while pulling some blankets over the two of them.

“Nah, don't worry about it. You're welcome any time you like.”

The two sat in silence for a while and eventually Jeremy began to drift off. Michael hesitated, thinking over his next decision carefully, and then impulsively turned and rested his head against Jeremy's chest.

Jeremy let out a sleepy “huh?” at the feeling of weight on his chest and then smiled when he realized what Michael had done. He let his arms naturally fall and land on Michael's upper back, however one moved to its earlier position of twirling a few strands of Michael's hair around his fingers.

A few more minutes of silence pass and Jeremy begins to drift off once again, however he is quickly interrupted.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked quietly, waiting a bit to see if Jeremy had fully fallen asleep.

“Mm?” Jeremy replied with a sleepy mumble.

“Why is everything in my life so difficult?”

“I don't know, Mike.. I really don't know.”

Michael sighed and decided that would be the best answer he'd get - unless he wanted some sort of religious spiel about certain plans and whatnot. He left Jeremy return to sleep before joining him a few minutes later. He decided he better enjoy this moment while it lasted, despite the bubbling anxiety that was welling up in his stomach. He certainly didn't look forward to returning home tomorrow.

One problem at a time, Mike. One problem at a time. He thought to himself as he was finally able to drift off to sleep.

–

Turns out it would be several problems at one time.

Michael dressed in his (now clean and dry, thanks to Mrs. Fitzgerald) clothes from the previous day and began his trek back to his own apartment - making sure to pick a time he knew William would be working in the hellscape he called his workshop.

He carefully retraced his usual path and made it to the front lawn. Taking another step, Michael heard a loud crunch. He looked around noticed several objects glinting in the sun and went over to investigate. Michael felt his heart sank when he realized it was pieces of plastic. He knelt down and took a closer look, finding the pieces of all his favorite tapes. And, he was pretty sure he had his favorite songs stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Damn it, Michael thought as he sighed and moved away from the pile of plastic scraps, I guess he noticed I was gone.

He shook his head and continued toward his bedroom window - which looked exactly the same as he had left it the night before.

Not thinking anything of it, and with the rain having washed away any evidence of William’s entrance, Michael pushed open his window and hoisted himself inside. He landed with a small “oomph” and dusted his pants off. While dusting his pants, however, he noticed another shadow present in the room. He slowly looked up and locked eyes with none other than William himself.

“William Michael Afton, where have you been?” William spoke, his arms crossed over his chest and he stood in a powerful stance. However, Michael noticed there was something crumpled in his left fist.

“Don't fucking call me that. My name is Michael,” Michael spat back, absolutely seething at being called his legal name - no one EVER called him by that, he'd probably punch them if they did.

“I wouldn't be so sure, Junior. You see, I was the one who named you. I think I know what your name is.” There he went again, dismissing Michael's entire personhood. Well, it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. Michael used to cry every night until his Mother finally agreed to let him go by Michael instead.

“Anyway, you haven't answered my question. Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been?” William spoke again, moving closer and jabbing a finger harshly into Michael's ribs with every word. “Answer me.”

“Nowhere, sir.”

“Are you sure that's the answer you want to go with?” William narrows his eyes, leaning over his son in an attempt to make him cave in; shrink himself down and disappear. After all, that's what he wants. For Michael to disappear.

Michael briefly glanced at his father's eyes, noting the only emotions present were anger and boredom. That's how he always looked at Michael, though sometimes there was a sprinkle of disappointment. He looked back at the floor and gulped. Just tell him, Egghead. He already knows you left. He mentally scolded himself before speaking.

“A friend’s. I was at a friend’s house, Father.”

“Hmm,” William pursed his lips and scrutinized Michael’s body language and tone for any hint of dishonesty. “Which friend, exactly?”

Michael gulped once again. If he told him, he risked putting Jeremy in danger. But if he didn't, then he put himself in danger. No big deal, he could handle that. But he desperately wanted to protect Jeremy, so he remained silent.

“Answer me, goddamn it!” William raised his voice, his hand flying to the collar of Michael's shirt. Michael still remained silent, even as William had slammed him into the bookshelf and sent several personal objects (some of them glass) cascading to the floor with a loud crash.

Michael had to bite his lip to avoid crying out in pain - he was sure that he would have a few bruises, most likely cuts too, since the glasses broke on the impact and gashed through his windbreaker, managing to hit skin. Another large glass photo frame crashed into his face and left a large gash across his left eye and a bruise across his cheekbone.

“Your silence is not his protection, you know,” William whispered, setting Michael back on the ground and releasing his collar.

“W.. what are you talking about?” Michael spoke, straightening his jacket and still refusing to look at William.

“Don't play dumb with me,” William finally unfurled his left fist and revealed a crumpled up polaroid. Michael's heart sank once again; he knew exactly what that was. “If that faggot Fitzgerald is making you think you're one of those queers, I will never let you see him again.”

“N-no.. that's not.. He's not.. Uh.. I'm not-” Michael shook his head furiously, scrambling to come up with an excuse.

“I don't care what he does in his own home, but he will not infect mine. Not with this.. disease,” William scoffed and shoved the polaroid into Michael’s face - trying to emphasize what exactly the ‘disease’ was.

“If you ever pull something like this again, I will destroy more things than you cassette tapes, William Michael Afton.”

“Stop. Stop fucking calling me that,” Michael finally broke out of his stupor and began shaking uncontrollably. His anger was beginning to take control of him and he hated how much it made him look like William.

“Just.. leave me alone. I'm not gay, alright! It was just some stupid dare. It didn't mean anything. Vanessa took the picture as a joke, okay? It's all one big fucking joke!” The words felt like poison leaving Michael's mouth, they burned as they bubbled through his throat. He felt awful for not being able to defend himself or Jeremy. He felt awful that William was his father. He just felt awful.

“Good. Then you won't be needing this, will you?” William asked, the hatred evident in his voice. Michael looked up just as he heard the first rip - right through Jeremy’s face on the polaroid. He felt a pang in his heart but simply shook his head “no.” William continued until the entire thing was no more than a few paper scraps with what remained of Jeremy and Michael’s facial features.

“Oh, and clean up this room.” And with that, William stormed out once again. Michael slid down the backside of his door and crumpled to his knees. He had never felt so empty and alone in his life. He desperately wanted to cry but he would not give William the satisfaction over controlling his emotions. He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not cry.

A single tear began trailing down his cheek. He would cry.

–

Brrng Brrrng

The phone rang for what felt like the seventeenth time. It was getting on William’s nerves. He started to call out for someone else to answer it, but he couldn't exactly say “hey, Michael, I know we had a little argument yesterday but can you answer the phone? Pretty please??” and bat his eyelids. He groaned and rolled up his oil-covered sleeves, grabbing the nearest cloth like object and wiping off his hands.

William begrudgingly answered the phone with a slightly annoyed sounding “'Ello?”

“Mr. Afton! I'm sorry. I was trying to reach Michael.. we were supposed to hang out today,” the voice spoke through the speaker. It sounded very embarrassed to have called the wrong person.

“Who is this?”

“Oh! Umm.. It’s Jeremy, sir. Jeremy Fitzgerald?... Michael's.. best friend..?”

“Ah. Fitzgerald, yes. I remember… Michael is not available right now. He seems to.. have come down with a cold. He was complaining about.. cold rain and having to walk through it earlier.” William scrambled to come up with an excuse. This was the boy who was fond of his son? Now was the perfect chance to ruin whatever budding relationship they might've had.

“Actually, Johnny,”

“Jeremy.”

“Whatever. Let me see if Michael will be willing to take your call.”

William had the perfect plan, and it involved his newest prototype: the Hand Unit, now with built in voice synthesizer and voice capture abilities. Of course, William who was always plotting, and had recorded his argument with Michael the night before. He fiddled around with the buttons on the Hand Unit and switched it to the “angsty teen” setting - one he designed specifically to sound like Michael. Once he had it set up, he took his hand off of the receiver and made a test ‘hello?’

“Mike? Oh, thank God! I was worried you'd never pick up.” Jeremy's voice sounded through the speaker once again and William scowled at the relief he heard. Teenagers are so gullible these days.

“Jeremy?” William typed into the touchpad on the Hand Unit, amazed at his own handiwork and how clear it came out.

“Are you still able to come over today?”

William pressed a few more buttons, spewing out the first of the pre-recorded messages: “What are you talking about?”

“Don't you remember? You said you'd try to come over later today.”

William rolled his eyes and began flipping a few switches. It's now or never, I guess. He thought to himself as he searched through the messages for the real zinger: “Just.. leave me alone.”

“What..?”

“I'm not gay, alright! It was just some stupid dare. It didn't mean anything. Vanessa took the picture as a joke, okay? It's all one big fucking joke!” William’s lips moved into an evil smile as he awaited Jeremy’s response. This is more fun than I imagined. He thought to himself, giving him an imaginary pat on the back.

“Mike? You.. you don't mean that, right?” The hurt in the boy’s voice almost made William feel bad. Almost.

He had one final phrase to say and loaded it in as fast as he could: “Stop fucking calling me.”

Just as the Hand Unit finished the last sentence, it began to short out. William groaned in frustration and accidentally took his hand off the receiver, “Blasted thing. I thought I fixed that.” However, William did not realize that Jeremy very clearly heard that. William quickly hung up the phone and returned to his work, which now included fixing the Hand Unit.

Jeremy was a mixture of hurt and confused, had Michael actually said those things? And what was that strange thing Mr. Afton had said? “Blasted thing?” Something seemed fishy here, and he was going to figure out what happened.

–

Jeremy practically stormed out of his house, sprinting down the sidewalk as fast as his lanky build could carry him. By the time he arrived at the Afton’s doorstep, he was out of breath. He quickly knocked on the front door before hunching over to regain control of his breathing.

No answer. That's odd. They always answer on the first knock. Jeremy thought to himself. How else could he get in? And then it hit him; Michael's window. He grabbed a few pebbles (in case the window wasn't already open) and trekked around the side of the building.

Just his luck, the window was firmly shut. Jeremy selected a medium sized pebble, said a silent prayer that this glass was reinforced, and gently threw the pebble towards the small window. It landed against the glass with a small thump. Jeremy thanked whatever higher being that it hadn't shattered instantly

Seeing that there was no response to the first pebble, Jeremy picked up another and threw it much harder.

Michael glanced over at the sudden noise, just in time to see a small object land against his window. He pushed himself off the floor - wincing slightly as his injuries were still fresh (and had been left untreated). He shuffled over and glanced outside. Seeing that someone was outside (and actively throwing pebbles), Michael opened his window and tried to get a better look.

“Jeremy? What are you doing here?” Michael asked - confusion and a headache swarmed around his skull.

“Mike! I tried the front door but no one answered. I needed to talk to you in person.” Jeremy looked relieved when Michael had actually opened the doors. He placed down his handful of pebbles and began climbing in through the window.

Once he was inside, he dusted himself off and then finally looked at Michael.

“Oh.. Mike, what happened?” Jeremy walked over and gently grabbed Michael's chin, turning his head towards the light so he could better see the damage. The entire left side of Michael's face was swollen and slightly purple from the new bruising. Jeremy subconsciously ran his thumb over Michael's swollen lip, though he quickly moved his hand back when Michael flinched.

Jeremy took a closer look at the room and quickly noticed the large amount of broken glass that little Michael's bedroom floor.

“I'm fine, Jeremy. I.. tripped… into the bookshelf. And took a picture frame right to the face,” Michael quickly lied, even adding a chuckle to make it seem more accident like.

“We need to get you to a doctor, Michael. This could be seriously infected!” Jeremy moved back over to Michael and motioned to his injured face.

“No!” Michael snapped, then realized his tone and softened his words as he continued speaking, “No doctors. They'll.. they'll ask questions I'm not prepared to answer, okay? I'm fine.”

“Fine, but at least let me use a first aid kit, okay? I don't want there to be an infection,” Jeremy didn't even wait on a reply before fishing around in his bag full of necessary items, that he ALWAYS carried with him, and pulling out a small, travel sized first aid kit.

Jeremy sat down on Michael's bed and motioned for him to sit down as well. Michael obliged, though he was hesitant to let Jeremy doctor his wounds.

“By the way, Mike,” Jeremy began speaking in between Michael's winces as the cold antiseptic touched his face, “did you answer the phone earlier?”

“No..? I haven't left my room all day,” Michael shrugged and motioned to the state he was currently in, “Besides, Father banned me from using the phones.”

“Then.. who did I speak to earlier? It sounded just like you.. and you said some really mean things.” Jeremy's brow furrowed as he thought back to the earlier phone conversation.

Michael's eyes widened. Someone had spoken to Jeremy and pretended to be him? Not only that, but they apparently said something awful?

“If.. you don't mind me asking, what sort of things were said?” Michael asked, glancing up at Jeremy - who was still in deep thought.

“Well, first of all, you acted like you had no idea about our plans. Then, you started saying that.. that everything was just a joke and that you only did this because it was a dare. And that it meant nothing.. It really hurt to hear you say that,” Jeremy frowned, scanning Michael's face for any recognition for the words.

“Did the person say anything else?”

“Well, you said.. ‘stop fucking calling me’. And then the phone hung up.” Jeremy shrugged and searched his own memory for anything else that happened.

Michael's own expression was one of horror, he had recalled all of those things - but he distinctly remembered saying them to his father, not Jeremy.

“Jeremy, all those things.. They were part of an argument with my Father. He.. I was just trying to protect you. I didn't mean anything I said to him. I don't know how you heard it, but none of it was true,” Michael spoke softly, reaching over and gently squeezing Jeremy's hand.

“And that last part?”

“He kept calling me by my legal name - not Michael. The full context was ‘stop fucking calling me that'. I would never tell you to stop calling me.” Michael noticed how hurt Jeremy had seemed and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, “Please believe me, Jer. I'm sorry if my image was used to hurt you.”

Jeremy leaned into Michael's hand before placing his own on top of it. “I do believe you. But there was something else. Something weird.”

“What?”

“After the last sentence, it didn't instantly hang up. It sounded like wires shortcircuiting - oh, and I heard someone say ‘Blasted thing’,” Jeremy recalled, trying to give Michael as much detail as possible to help solve this mystery, “any ideas?”

Michael's expression dropped: he knew exactly what this was. “My father.”

Jeremy cocked his head to the side, clearly confused by this statement, “What do you mean by that?”

“My father. He's the one behind it. He.. he threatened that I would never be able to talk to you again. I.. I didn't know he'd do something like this, though.” Michael shook his head as the dots all seemed to connect in his brain.

Jeremy made another sort of ‘okay he's lost his mind’ gesture and his confusion continued to grow.

“Jeremy, he makes things. It's not impossible he could make something that captured the argument he and I had. What if.. what if he used that to try and dissuade you from.. from seeing me.” Michael placed his hand on Jeremy's shoulder and continued to gesture with his other. His eyes were wild as he realized just how far his father planned ahead. His breathing grew faster and his chest felt tight. How much had his father known? What else would he know?

Everything was too loud. Michael felt as if the walls were closing in around him. He began shaking once again. He didn't even seem to notice Jeremy calling his name. He was having an anxiety attack. Michael hadn't experienced one this bad since after his mother had passed away. Everything felt distant and like it was too close at the same time.

“Mike? Mike?” Jeremy's concerned voice couldn't reach him. “Michael?” The concern grew even louder.

Jeremy hesitated before placing his hands on both sides of Michael's face. “Mike, look at me. You're okay. It's okay.”

Michael remained frozen in place for a few more seconds until he felt the warmth of Jeremy’s hands against his cheeks. He slowly came back to reality, focusing on Jeremy's face instead of his overwhelming thoughts.

Jeremy stayed like that until Michael had calmed down enough to speak.

“I'm sorry for scaring you, Jer..” He trailed off, still worked up from the moments before.

Jeremy simply shook his head and wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling him as close as he could and hugging him as tightly as he dared - he was still unsure where else the injuries had spread and didn't want to harm Michael even more. Jeremy kept repeating “it's okay, you're okay” while gently rubbing his hand up and down Michael's back.

Michael sank into Jeremy’s arms and sniffled slightly. Jeremy placed a gentle kiss onto the top of Michael's hair.

“We’ll figure this out, Mike. Together.” Jeremy spoke before resting his chin on the top of his head. “We don't have to do anything right now, okay?”

Michael nodded and remained in this position until he completely calmed down.

“Jeremy, can we leave? Tonight? I don't want to be around him anymore.” Michael asked as he finally removed his head off of Jeremy's shoulder. He looked up at him hopefully, eagerly awaiting his response.

“Okay. If you want to,” Jeremy spoke, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind Michael's ear, “I'm sure my mom won't mind.”

So the two packed until Michael's room was completely empty. They carried as much as their backpacks could hold. Then they ran as fast as their legs could carry them. They ran until they were gasping for air.

The two of them soon arrived at the Fitzgerald household - where Mrs. Fitzgerald let them in without any questions. She was familiar with William's harsh parenting styles and knew that questions made Michael uncomfortable.

She quickly hugged Michael and agreed to let him stay as long as he wanted. Michael felt the burning of tears well up in his eyes. It's been a long time since he had a place where he felt wanted. It was quite nice.

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wakanda-nonsense-is-this · 2 years

Text

Ghost of Us — Chapter 1

Masterpage <last next>

This is the sequel to my book Ghost of You. Go check it out before reading this one.

Pietro Maximoff x fem!Mutant!reader

Warnings: PTSD, vague mention of torture, blood, little violence, alcohol, alcohol as a coping mechanism, liquor store, alcoholism, suicide talk, angst, trauma, grief

Word Count: 3284

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

Dying is easy.

Coming back it's the tricky part.

But what's even worse is the situation I found myself in at the moment.

I released a yelp as Strange's eldritch whip came in my direction and I quickly dodged behind a table which seconds later exploded into million pieces leaving me defenseless in front of a frustrated wizard. I slowly crawled backward until my back hit the wall and winced at the intensity of his gaze.

"Get up."

"I'm fine here, thank you very much."

"Now." He demanded, magic illuminating his hands orange. Reluctantly I stood up and faced him before I sprinted away from him racing towards the door. As expected, it did nothing since seconds later I was face down spitting dust a whip wrapped around my leg pulling me towards Strange.

"Fight back." I moved my head out of the way as a magic disc crashed beside me hitting the side of my face and causing blood to pour out of my cheek. The surprise of actual blood was overtaken by anger, as ghosts made their apparition around us. I felt my powers in the tips of my fingers, in the deep of my stomach, they wanted to crawl out and unleash death. The temperature rose and the light faded away.

"That's enough for today Strange," Wong stated as he appeared behind us. His voice snapped me out of my trance and the spirits disappeared. I blinked once, twice. Since coming back from the land of the dead this type of thing has started to happen more frequently and I was afraid to repeat a scene worse than the one back on my last day on the compound after seeing...

"I leave you two for three hours and you somehow always find a way to destroy everything." He snapped as Strange finally released me. I quietly stood up and tried to clean the dirt out of my clothes.

"He started it," I mumbled.

"It's her fault."

"How's that my fault? You attacked me," I snapped, gritting my teeth as I crossed my arms defiantly.

"If you would simply do what I've taught you and fought back then we wouldn't be having this conversation," Strange grunted, narrowing his eyes.

"Well if you got it into your thick skull that I'm not a freaking wizard then we wouldn't be having this conversation either."

"You're insufferable, anyone ever told you that?" He hissed, his jaw clenching.

"Only every day of my entire life," I commented, raising my chin, a smug smile forming on my face.

"Oh now we're playing the victim card, aren't we?" He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "How creative, now I can't say anything without sounding like an asshole."

"Whoops."

"I hate you." He fumed, swearing under his breath.

"Why? I'm lovely." I grinned cheekily as Strange made to reach me. With a yelp, I hid behind Wong, who looked anything but amused. His brows furrowed together in annoyance and I could see a sneer starting to form on his face.

"Okay, that's it. Get out, both of you. I don't wanna see any of you." He snapped and forcefully shoved us out of the room and finally slammed the door on our faces with a loud thud. We stood still for a moment.

"So, you want something to eat?" I grinned

"Don't talk to me." His nostril flared as he turned around and walked away.

"Idiot."

"I heard that!"

"I wasn’t whispering," I announced smirking.

***

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror as I splashed water on my face, erasing any trace of blood that could remind me of my past. But I wasn't fast enough as the sight of bloody water running down the drain brought me back to the days at the asylum. I tried to shake the images out of my head as I forcefully shut my eyes. My breath quickened as memories of being tied down to a table as they sliced me open invaded my brain. I could still remember the feeling of the blade against my skin as if it was yesterday. The pressure on my wrists as they were being tied down. The chill on my exposed bloody back as air met it. How my screams left my throat feeling raw. Their faces as they stood above me...

But a knock on the door stopped my brain from finishing that memory. With shaky hands, I opened the door only to be met with two green eyes. A grimace appeared on my face as I took in his unwanted presence. His eyes however focused solely on my bloody cheek and then on my probably crazed eyes after my little episode, but he knew me enough not to mention it. We faced each other for some awkward seconds until he spoke.

"Need a hand with that?" He nagged.

"Do I look like I need your help?" I barked back and regretted it immediately as I felt blood dripping down my chin.

"Was that a rhetorical question or do you really want me to answer that?" Strange debated, amusement evident in the way his eyes lit up.

"Whatever" I sighed and rolled my eyes as I opened the door completely to let him in and sat on the toilet.

He stepped inside the little room and searched for the first aid kit inside the drawers. When he found it he kneeled in front of me and took the alcohol out. Gently he wiped the blood off my cheek and then rubbed alcohol on it. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my reaction, and was surprised when he found none.

"It doesn't hurt," I explained. And it didn't, not really. Not even when alcohol came in contact with the open wound.

"You have a high pain tolerance I see." He noted warily.

"I do." And I did, ever since I knew what real pain was, little things like this felt like a joke. For some minutes nothing could be heard as he cleaned my wound and surprisingly gave me two stitches until a loud sigh could be heard from him.

"What?" I snapped annoyed as he sighed for the fifth time.

"I didn't say anything."

"Then stop breathing so loudly," I grunted as I stood off the toilet and made my way to the mirror to gaze at the repaired damage on my face.

"I just don't understand why you're holding back." The sorcerer pondered crossing his arms above his chest.

"I'm not."

"I don't believe that and neither do you."

"Honestly? I don't care what you think." I snapped glaring at him. Restrained anger danced in my eyes as we stared at each other. Suddenly recognition dawned on his eyes.

"Ohh, so he's why." Strange acknowledged. I tensed and froze at his mere mention.

"It's been 8 months Y/n." When I said nothing he continued.

"I think," he began hesitantly, "it's time to get over him."

"I am over him." I denied

"I'm not blind nor deaf, I can see you crumbling before my eyes. Do you think I can't hear you screaming every night in your sleep? Do you think I don't notice the alcohol stench in your room? The bottles? Well, I can. Why do you think I'm trying to teach you control?"

I didn't answer, I was speechless as shame burned through my veins as I recalled all the sleepless nights filled with Pietro's memories and the bottles I drank to erase any trace of him and the last 12 years of my life.

"Because every night you lose it." He softly answered himself.

"Leave me alone."

"Not until you realize how stupid all of this is!" He exclaimed, his hands raised in exasperation as if begging God for patience. "You're wasting your potential grieving over someone who doesn't know who you are."

"I'm warning you Strange. Stop talking." Warning seeping through my teeth.

"I'm sorry to break it to you but that stupid little dead boy doesn't deserve the power he still holds over you." He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You don't understand." I looked away, shame filling my veins. I hate it, the power Pietro still had over me.

"Explain it to me then, why put yourself through all of this?"

"Because I loved him and he's gone and it hurts" I roared as the lights flicked and the mirror tremble. The air filled with static.

The silence was so loud. I could feel his eyes burning on the back of my head. My hands twitched at my sides, unrestrained power tingling at my fingertips. I tried not to show it, but I know he saw straight through it. He always did. His features softened at the shaking of my hands.

"That day, you told me to make it stop. You told me you would come if I made the pain stop. But if you keep holding back there's nothing I can do to help you."

I knew he was right, of course, he was right. I was holding back. I was hiding. But what was I supposed to do? For twelve years that's what I was thought to do. If I didn't, I was punished. My whole life has revolved around me having to hold back, for my and everyone's sake. Back then I didn't know what I was capable of, and I still am not, but if I have the power to bring someone back, who says I can't do the opposite. The thing is, maybe I don't want to find out.

What's the point of using these abilities, if all they do is bring me pain. I want, no, I need to forget him. And if alcohol is the way, I'll gladly take it, even if it'll just work for a few hours.

"I don't need your help Doctor." I exited the room and smashed the door behind me as I made my way to the nearest liquor store.

The walk was painfully long. Even after 8 months, everywhere I looked I could see his face, literally. There were dozens of posters with his face adorning the street. People were bedazzled when they learned the Pietro Maximoff was, somehow, alive, after 7 years of being considered dead. I walked faster as I always did every time I got too close and before I knew it I was entering the store, the bell ringing as I opened the door.

By then I knew all aisles by memory so I rapidly searched for the tequila and made my way to the front, where the same man was always working. He acknowledge me with a nod and I did the same as I took money out of my pocket and gave it to him. Without a word I took the bag with my newly bought alcohol and left the store.

Outside I entertained my options and decide going back to the sanctum was not a good idea so I settled by walking directionless until I found someplace to sit. Minutes felt like hours as the sun set down on the horizon, obscuring my surroundings.

Some time passed and I found myself alone in the dark, my only company being the ghost of us. And those horrible posters that made no justice to the color of his eyes.

As the first tear made its way through my face I opened the bottle and took a sip that burned my throat and for just a second made me forget that once again I was alone in a world where no one would ever miss me. It wasn't funny, but I couldn't help the laugh that left my mouth.

"You were right dad," I began speaking to no one in particular as I felt my hands start to shake as the reality of my situation sank in. "I am a monster, unlovable." I croaked, my hand finding the almost full bottle and taking a longer sip.

"I think I get it now, why you abandon me." I kept going, way sober to have this realization, so I took another sip. "I wouldn't want to have me as my daughter either."

"I wonder if they miss me" Another sip. "I bet they don't." I chuckled as I lazily took one more.

"Maybe" I whispered to myself as if I was telling a secret. "Maybe everything would be easier if I just" I took a deep shuddering breath that made my lungs ache "disappeared."

"Don't say that." Blurted a childish voice from somewhere above me. I looked up and honestly, I was not a bit surprised to find a teenager in a red tacky suit hanging off a tree, upside down. I sighed and drank some more. It had been a long day.

"Mind your business kid." I sighed as monkey-boy got down from the tree.

"Are you okay?" He softly asked, but I refused to answer. Maybe if I acted like he wasn't there he'll disappear. Like everyone else. HA.

"I can call someone for you if you want." He continued, unaware of my morbid internal sense of humor. How ironic, I concluded. That a total stranger was the only person that cared enough to ask.

"There isn't anyone. Not anymore, at least." I refused to look at him as I admitted the truth. I kept gazing to the front as we sat in silence. I didn't want to see his pity, the pity that clouded Wong's eyes after he found me curled up crying after a particular nightmare, or in the way Strange would halt giving me shit after a panic attack.

But to my surprise, I was found instead with understanding.

"It sucks, doesn't it? Miss them and don't be able to do something about it, but remember them." Red-guy whispered, his voice becoming melancholic with every word. I looked at him and wonder if there were tears in his eyes every time he spoke about this.

"What's the point of remembering if it only causes pain? That's just cruel." I uttered playing with the hem of my shirt, a lonely tear falling. That was all I was gonna allow myself at the moment, one tear for the man I lost and for the life I never got to live.

"It is. But what about all of the happy memories? Those memories made me who I am, who would I be without them?" Bug-kid stated with so much confidence, that I couldn't help to wonder about him again, is the absence of us, affecting him someway? I shook my head at the thought, I don't think I ever was that important.

"Maybe they're gone, but you aren't. So live, if not for yourself, for them." the boy instructed with, what I think, was a smile behind the mask. He looked healed, I wonder if I'll ever be like that.

At the distance, the sirens could be heard which put an end to our conversation. Spider kid stood up and I came to the conclusion he couldn't be older than 15 years. Yikes, I just poured all my bottled-up trauma on a teenager.

"For the record? I don't think you're a monster, someone capable of loving as hard as you did can't be one." That was the last thing he said after he went swinging through the city.

As fast as he left tears clouded my vision. Because he was right. About everything. My life wasn't over, it had barely begun. Pietro was gone but our memories weren't. It didn't matter that he couldn't remember them. It didn't matter, because I could remember for both of us. My Pietro wouldn't have wanted me to stay like this forever, I know that. So out of respect for him, I had to live, and that I would do. No one was ever gonna take my life away from me again, the choice. I had to live for myself and I would fight for it, because of him.

And drowning my fears and pain in alcohol was not gonna do anything to solve my problems. It didn't help my abilities, it just made them unstable. I needed control, and for once in my life, I would take it.

I stood on wobbly legs and with all my force threw the alcohol bottle to the ground but to my embarrassment, it only bounced and didn't break as I expected. To my dismay, it kept rolling and eventually stopped before someone's shoes. I recognized those ugly shoes and their owner.

"That was embarrassing," mocked Stephen Strange a few meters from me. Any day I would've told him that having to walk with that face was embarrassing, but ant-boy's word rang strong in my head.

"I should have died that day, didn't I?" I knew the answer, but I had to ask, because maybe he knew why, maybe he knew the reason why so many failed, but I didn't.

"But you didn't." He stated, his voice rang through my body and told me everything he wanted to say but wouldn't. In some sick/ Stephen Strange way, he cared. He could've just left me there that day, but didn't. He could've sent someone else to get me today, he sure has more important things to do, but he came. I looked at him through my tears and realized, that in all of these past months there wasn't pity in his eyes, it was a way softer stare. I wonder if that's what a father is supposed to look like because at that moment he sure looked and act like the one I needed.

"No, I didn't," I repeated as if I had just realized. And I think to some extent, I just had. All this time I had been blinded by my grief that nothing else mattered. I was grieving and don't think I would ever stop, but life keeps going and so should I, if not for me, for him, for my Pietro.

"Teach me."

"Gladly."

***

~~1 year and 4 months later~~

"That was amazing!" I laughed, stepping through Wong's portal, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I recalled our latest mission.

"It was meh," Wong replied as he close the portal once we were on the New York's sanctum after 2 weeks of chasing some dark wizards. I looked around me and inhaled deeply, a smile on my face. I was finally home.

"Are you kidding me? I totally nailed that." I scoffed

"Nailed what?" Strange asked making his appearance before us. My smile widened at the sight of my teacher.

"Oh Stephen, you should've seen me. I was amazing." I gushed as I approached him and explained the latest mission and my accomplishments to him.

"Good."

"Don't sound too excited, I may think you care." I gave him a nasty look at his lack of interest. But after a few seconds without a come back I realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" I asked, unease rising inside of me. My first thought was someone died, but then I realized all the people I care about were in the room and they were pretty much alive. But Pietro wasn't. I paled and felt my heart skip a beat.

"You're not gonna like it." He sighed and looked at me. By the moment I was sure I was as pale as an albino salamander.

"They need our help, well, more specifically, yours." I was so relieved at the knowledge that he was okay that I didn't register what he was saying.

"What, who?" I scrunched up my face and tilted my head. Strange gave me a long look. Uneasiness gnawed at my insides, but nothing could've prepared me to hear that name come out of his lips.

"The Avengers."

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fangirly14 · 1 year

Text

The thunder wasn't what had woken Jason up.

No, it was the piercing bright flash of light that had him sitting upright immediantly. His heart pounded in his chest. He hated nights like these.

Sometimes the rain was relaxing to listen to as he fell asleep or read his book, but thunderstorms? Those were entirely different.

He remembered being on the streets during these storms. How cold he was. Shivering and wet and squatted behind a dumpster for a shread of warmth.

Now Jason was shaking again, as if he were the same kid who had sat in the storms through the night, not knowing if he would wake up the next day.

He couldn't stop the tears from appearing in his eyes. His heart was beating so fast it fekt like it was going to explode. Why was he acting like this? He was fine.

He couldn't explain it, but he suddenly couldn't breathe. He tried to inhale air but it seemed almost impossible.

He needed help. He got up and practically ran to his door. He flung it open and charged down to hall to Bruce's room.

Bruce had told Jason to come to him if he needed something. Well right now he needed to fucking breathe.

He flung the door open and it hit the wall with a loud bang. Bruce shot up and was instantly wide awake.

"Jason? Are you okay?" He asked, worry lines appearing on his face.

"B... I can't..." Jason choked out.

Bruce got up and kneeled down in front of him. "It's alright. Okay? Inhale." He took a deep breath with Jason. "And exhale."

Jason wasn't sure how long they spent there, just breathing, but it felt like hours. Finally Jason could breathe normally again.

"Do you know what that was Jay?" Bruce asked gently. Jason shook his head.

"That was a panic attack. Something must've caused you too much stress or anxiety. Do you know what set you off?" Bruce continued to talk in a low, soothing voice. Something in his tone made Jason feel safe and sleepy.

"The storm I think." He whispered out. Bruce nodded to himself.

"Okay. Are you alright to go back to sleep? Or you can stay up and read or watch a movie?" Bruce offered.

"Can I stay with you?" Jason blurted out, the. His face flushed and he turned his head away, mortified.

"Of course Jay. "

Surprised by his response Jason stood there for a moment before diving into the covers before Bruce could change his mind.

He felt Bruce get in on the other side. He kept his distance which Jason was grateful for at first. Then he was cold. Too cold.

He didn't want to feel that way again. He hesitantly scooted closer to Bruce until he felt brave enough to fully curl into his side.

Bruce's hand made its way to Jason's hair and starting gently detangling the hairs. Soon Jason was overcome with the deep need to sleep.

"G'night dad." He murmurred before slipping off to dreamland.

A kiss was pressed to his forehead. "Goodnight son."

Just a little thought that popped into my brain. I hope you enjoyed some father-son fluff. Ignore spelling errors. Im too tired to proofread this

#good dad bruce wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne #thunderstorms #Fluff

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bleakbluejay · 1 year

Text

I wanna rant a little, I guess, about the moment I realized I was obsessed with the Mandalorian.

It was actually the 2nd to last episode of season 2. I mean I really liked the show up until that point, certainly, but that episode, where Din, Cara, Migs, Fennec, and Boba all go to the refinery so they can figure out where Grogu is, it stuck with me in my little brain and exploded and bloomed.

Specifically when Din decided he had to take his helmet off if he was going to save Grogu's life. The hesitance at first, letting the scanner try his helmet first. The determination, next, of letting it scan him so he can get it over with before anyone noticed. It's very resolute.

Then... the panic.

The absolute panic and fear freezing him when Valin Hess begins asking questions. This guy can't move, he can't talk. He can just stare with wide-eyed terror, speechless, and what little he can say isn't right. The increased panic as he realizes he's failing, he's failing this social interaction, he's failing Grogu, and he's failing himself, and he freezes. It looks like he's fighting back tears, almost, like he's moments away from breaking.

Which is the same way I handle panic and anxiety attacks. As an autistic person, my fear/anxiety response is just freezing, going nonverbal/semiverbal, and hoping that the stressor will just go away. I very, very rarely see this in fiction, and especially rarely under the exact circumstances being portrayed. I went from merely loving this character to thinking this is me, he is me. And that empathy link got intensely established.

I kept thinking about how traumatic this entire situation must be for him. How stressful the circumstances. How he, someone relatively zealous, forsake one of the most important tenets of his faith, showing his face to other living things, and there's nothing he could do about it. For the first time in easily 20-30 years, he was seen. He was vulnerable. There was no durasteel, no beskar, no protective shell separating him from the hard world outside or prying eyes or judgement or failure. Suddenly, his facial expressions mattered, facial expressions he didn't need to worry about mirroring or faking in decades if ever. And they didn't just matter the way they matter to a ND person like me in regular social situations. This was life-or-death.

I remember about two years in quarantine and masking during COVID took me soooo far back in terms of how well I "mask" my autism around allistics. I barely do it at all, now, and I have trouble forcing myself to. It made me very insecure of my face and expressions because I couldn't do them right anymore. That was just two years. What could 20-30 years do?

So I sat there, suddenly extremely connected, heart-to-heart with that tin man, metaphorical spear through my chest as I watched all the stages of grief pass over his face during that scene, and my whole brain chemistry was being altered. I finished the episode, finished the season, finished Book of Boba Fett, and then rewatched the Mandalorian, with this new perspective. Then I rewatched it again. And again. And every time I felt more and more connected to the guy. His tenderness, his gentleness, his strength, his courage, his love, his light, his fear. He became my favorite fictional character, and in so, so short a period of time. In just two weeks. And all sparked by Pedro Pascal's fucking 🥺 face.

(And of course, Din isn't canonically autistic but yes he is <3 I said so and I know everything.)

#eli talks #anyway din djarin is very autistic and so am i and so are we #we are twins #i see a character have the same traits as me #or react to love or fear the same way as me #i stick onto them like those lil fuckin floaters from subnautica #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando

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kimageddon · 1 year

Text

A Prince of Dathomir - Chapter 112

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Slight Canon Divergence

Word count: Approx 3000 Contains/Warnings: Violence, injuries, abusive behaviour, threats, mentions of death. Chapter Summary: Zaiya, Feral and Maul race to save Savage from Ventress and the Jedi. Notes: (at the end!)

Witches - Part 2

Savage touched down in the hangar of the dreadnought, dragging the limp form of the Toydarian King with him. If not for the Jedi… Urgh! The Toydarian was supposed to come back alive! They’d interfered and now he would have to face Dooku with his mistake. This was meant to be his fledgeling mission to prove he could be a true Sith apprentice!

Savage could do nothing but lay the body at Dooku’s feet and wait for punishment.

“You ignorant beast!” Dooku boomed, “I told you, I wanted him alive!” The lightning came a moment later and Savage tried not to scream in pain. He was not successful.

It let up after about a minute and he managed to pant out an apology, asking for forgiveness. It was entirely the wrong thing to say and Dooku sneered at him before sending another blast right through him. Savage could barely move, he thought he was about to pass out, when the door opened before him and a familiar slender figure stood there.

“Ventress…” Dooku whispered in disbelief. Savage could barely hear what they were saying, and it took too much effort to be able to pull himself to his feet. “Savage… you can make amends for your mistake-- by destroying this Witch!” But Ventress was already laughing at the old man. Savage felt confused, and his hand reached for his saber, his master had given him an order!

“I don’t think that will be happening, will it, Savage?” he moved to take a step back but she raised a hand and he felt a tap on his forehead. There was a sound in his head and it felt like a fog was lifting. “Remember where your true loyalties lie…” her voice swam in his brain and he remembered the mission to deceive Dooku! Yes, that was what he was doing here! Though everything seemed foggy, he had to remember, this was his mate… right?

That strange voice in the back of his mind was louder now, and he felt parts of himself fighting internally. He could not hesitate though, he knew what he had to do now.

“With you, Mistress,” he answered and ignited his lightsaber. He would finally strike against the man that had tormented him for the past few months.

The battle was fierce and intense, he struck at the urgent demands from Ventress, the incessant nagging in his head, the wrongness he felt. What was happening? Savage attacked again and again, but he was met with powerful bolts of electric pain that stopped him in his tracks.

“Kill him!” Ventress screamed as she defended with her twin lightsabers. “Kill him you fool!”

Couldn’t she see he was trying!? Everytime he stood, Dooku would blast him with lightning and Savage was back on the floor.

“I… can’t!” he growled through gritted teeth, “he’s too powerful!”

“Your weakness will not be my downfall!” she screeched and Dooku seemed smug.

“A failed apprentice makes for a foolish master!” he gloated.

Savage saw it then, and the voice in the back of his mind called out.

They didn’t care about him. They wanted him for nothing as a tool! Both of them! Why should he protect them at all?! She was willing to see him dead so long as she got what she wanted.

He managed to stand and for a moment there was calm-- before rage exploded out of him. Power swept his body and he roared like the beast they claimed him to be, sending both of them flying back from the shockwave in the Force. He would show them. He would kill them both!

He charged, throwing both of them around the room, feeling a satisfying thrill as he inflicted more pain upon the two traitors! His success did not last however and in a moment between defending themselves, Ventress struck back and Dooku once again shot Savage down with blue lightning. He was flung back, and when he looked up, Dooku had gone and Ventress was leaping down an emergency escape hatch in the floor. Savage was too slow to make it however, and the door shut on him before he could follow.

He raised his double bladed lightsaber to strike down and cut his way through but-- the main door opened once more. Savage heard voices and recognised the sensation in the Force. The Jedi had followed him somehow!

The rage built again. Were it not for them, he would not even be in this predicament! It was their fault! They had taken his success from him! With another furious roar he sent them back, he would destroy everything in his path!

He sent the Jedi back against the far wall, agony and fury surging through him, he just wanted to destroy everything! The two were on their feet, and he attacked with all the ferocity of a raging rancor, dodging the blue blades left and right, countering and parrying in a frenzy. He pushed them back through the halls of the Dreadnought, knowing that if he could not find Ventress or Dooku again, then he would have to escape, even in his rage he knew he could not take them all.

He narrowly avoided a strike from the bearded one, but the younger one slashed at his face, and caught two of his horns. His horns! The Jedi had cut them off!

Savage screamed in fury as the hangar doors opened to find absolute chaos … and green fire.

----

Zaiya had managed to land her ship, The Nameless, easily enough. Sixy had hooked into the system to trigger the ship to self-destruct. The Separatist droids were nothing to the three Zabraks and they had cut them down easily. Still, it had taken too much time, and Zaiya could no longer sense Ventress on the ship.

One of the comms for the droids echoed a deep voice Zaiya had only heard in holo recordings; Dooku. He was calling for the execution of Savage and her hearts leapt. At her back Maul and Feral were finishing off a small group of droids and Zaiya ran forward-- just as the doors opened.

Anakin and Kenobi had their backs to her, but she looked right past them to see a bloody and exhausted Savage… and his horns! She let out a growl as she slashed with her mila hanska blade and Kenobi only just managed to block it.

“Siren?!” he gasped.

“I knew it!” Anakin cried as he defended from Savage’s strike.

“Savage!” Zaiya cried, trying to get around the Jedi. She shoved the two back and bolted over to the huge Zabrak. “Savage… Come on, we have to go. Tell me you remember me!” He raised his lightsaber but stopped, his eyes went wide as he stared down at her in shock.

“You…?”

The moment didn’t last and they were again having to fight off the Jedi, but this time back to back.

“I knew you were behind this!” Anakin growled.

“Ah Skywalker, as stubborn as ever,” she snarled. “If you don’t mind, I think I shall be taking our brother and leaving--”

“Brother?!” Anakin scoffed.

“Our?” Kenobi asked at the same time.

“Savage…” Zaiya held back Kenobi’s blade and nodded behind him as she reached back and gripped Savage's forearm. She looked at Anakin with a firm and serious gaze. “I will do anything for my family.”

Simultaneously, Anakin’s expression softened, Kenobi looked away and Savage looked down at her. She saw the recognition in his eyes.

“No…” Kenobi gasped. He was looking past the battle now… and at the two other Zabraks that were finishing off the last of the B2 Battledroids. Maul turned toward them, and his face became murderous.

[Self-Destruct Initiated. Abandon Ship.] An automated voice spoke and in the moment of total confusion, Zaiya grabbed Savage tighter and yanked him with her as she kicked Kenobi away.

“No time!” she yelled and dragged Savage with her. “Into the ship!”

Sixy barreled through and charged back onto the ramp. Zaiya pushed Savage ahead of her and Feral helped his injured brother inside.

Maul however moved to charge Kenobi, but Zaiya’s hand landed square in the middle of his chest.

“You will not deny me my revenge!” he roared, the two Jedi having weapons raised to fight.

[Self-Destruct in Two Minutes.]

“Never, sire, but there’s no time!” she urged, and she watched fury contort his handsome face.

“I will kill him,” he growled.

“And I will help you, but we cannot do that if we’re both dead!” He looked at her sharply and nodded, the two turning away. The Nameless was already hovering and they had to leap to get up there, the ramp closing as soon as the two were inside.

Zaiya hurried to the cockpit to get as much distance between them and the dreadnought as she could. She did it. She had them. Savage was safe.

Now she just had to get him to remember them.

----

Obi-Wan ran back to his own ship with Anakin in tow. The Siren’s ship had already made the jump to hyperspace by the time the two Jedi had escaped the Dreadnought.

“At least the Separatist ship was destroyed…” Anakin murmured. Obi-Wan said nothing, letting Anakin pilot, his mind churning. There was no way it could be true, no way that he could have seen what he saw.

How could he be alive?! And the Siren was with both him and the monster Savage… it was worse than he thought.

The image of the last time he had seen the red and black warrior. Standing over his Master, dying at his feet. Darth Maul had killed Qui-Gon Jinn and somehow… somehow he was still alive?! Obi-Wan had cut him in half!

Jedi were not supposed to feel anger and hate… but by the Force if there was anyone he despised more he could not name them. Darth Maul had killed his Master, the man that had taken him as a Padawan when no other Master would dare.

Darth Maul had taken the man closest to a father that Obi-Wan had ever had in his life. It was Qui-Gon that Anakin needed as his master, not him.

“What I don’t get is why they blew up the ship. Wasn’t that big guy serving Dooku? He even had a lightsaber…!” Anakin sighed, then looked at Obi-Wan in alarm. “Are you alright?” Obi-Wan quickly used the Force to mask his emotions and tried to calm himself down. He couldn’t dwell on his emotions.

“Did you see those other warriors?”

“More of those Dathomirian Zabraks, seems the Siren is collecting them,” Anakin snorted.

“I don’t know about that… the red one… we’ve seen him before.” Obi-Wan looked gravely at Anakin whose eyes widened.

“You can’t be serious?! He’s dead! You killed him!”

“I did,” the Master responded, looking out the viewport just in time to see the dreadnought explode in a fireball in the distance. He hit the hyperdrive and made the jump. “I am certain it was him, he recognised me, I could see it in his face.” That ugly twisted rage-filled face. Obi-Wan felt disgust crawl up his back.

“So the Siren is a Sith?” Anakin asked, “I thought there were only meant to be two, if she was one, then that was at least three in that hangar… as well as Dooku… if they were working for him, why did the droids turn on them? Why did they blow up the ship?”

“Those are all very good questions, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, “but for now we need to report this to the Council. Soon, we will find out what they are up to.” He had to focus on the task at hand. He would not let his emotions force a reaction.

Even if he did want to tear that Sith to pieces.

----

Maul let out a scream of anger, his hands balled into fists, the Dark Side writhing in him. He looked like he was ready to take his lightsaber to them all.

“He was right there!” he roared. Zaiya watched him as calmly as she could manage, but if she were honest, her own emotions were wreaking havoc on her insides. She was just as angry, but also worried.

“I know,” she said, “but there was no time, fighting a Jedi on a Separatist ship, even if it’s not destroyed…” She shook her head, at least the ship was destroyed but…it was likely that Sidious would learn of Maul’s survival. What that meant for them, she didn’t know. It did make things difficult, however; they could not return to Dathomir and the Republic would come for them… likely so would the Separatists if their actions became known.

Maul just gave a growl and his hands twitched. He let out a deep sigh and watched as she crossed the room, heading to the small medical bay in order to check on Savage.

In the room, Feral sat by the cot, wrapping bandages around one of his brother’s forearms and Savage himself seemed barely conscious, his eyes unfocused.

“How has he been?” she asked.

“I applied bacta, but he has… burns, like--”

“Lightning,” Maul finished in a hoarse whisper, now right behind Zaiya. “It was my former Master’s favourite method of discipline, it seems his current apprentice has learned the same technique…” there was a look that crossed Maul’s face, the pale blue light from the wall unit reflecting on his face. For just a second he looked so vulnerable. Zaiya felt sadness and anger burn in her chest, she hated that she had waited so long.

She turned back and stepped over to the big Zabrak, he could barely fit in the cot, his head shifting from side to side.

“Savage,” she whispered, “can you hear me?” His fluttering eyes suddenly flew open and before she could stop him, his huge hand was around her throat. Feral and Maul jumped, ready to attack as she held up her hands at the same time.

“Where am I?!” he cried, but then his eyes seemed to focus and he released his grip.

“It’s alright,” she soothed, to the others. “Savage, do you remember me?”

“I… I know you…” he said, but it sounded strained.

“Feral,” she called, suppressing a cough. She was sure she was going to be bruised again. Feral stepped over and Savage’s eyes snapped toward the movement. His eyes widened again.

“Brother,” Feral said gently, “you're safe now.” Savage slowly sat up, then he spotted Maul.

“Brother…” he whispered. It seemed that of all people, he recognised Maul with the most surety. Feral made a face and she instinctively laid a hand on his shoulder.

“The spell has suppressed much of his memory,” she explained, and hoped he would not take it personally. She looked at Savage and gingerly reached out. “I need you to relax for me,” she said. He just watched her with those big golden eyes as she carefully laid her hands on either side of his head. He tensed but it seemed the residual memories of her told him she was safe.

A green glow emanated from her fingers and she got to work unravelling parts of the spell. They looked like threads to her, and she had to carefully untie the thread holding his memories. The rest of the spell that had made him so large and imposing however, was not something she had the power to undo.

Savage groaned, and she felt his large hands lay over hers, fingers digging in while she worked. She grit her teeth as his nails bit through her gloves. He was in pain, memories were not an easy thing to recover…

Her hands began to shake slightly with the strain, the green smoke flowing from the contact points of her fingers. A moment later, he relaxed and it was done. She withdrew her hands, stinging and aching from the pressure of his grip, but it needed to happen.

“Savage…?’ Feral asked quietly. Savage looked up and his face changed into one of utter relief.

“Feral!” he rasped. Zaiya stepped back as Savage wrapped Feral in a tight hug.

It was a moment of light in what was otherwise four very dark lives. The family was finally together again.

“Where are we?” Savage asked as he pulled back.

“My ship,” Zaiya explained, “when we were small, Maul and I swore to travel, and bring you with us.” She gestured to the group. “That time has finally come.”

“We aren’t returning to Dathomir?” he asked and Feral’s head lowered.

“No,” Zaiya said, “I…”

“She defied Talzin when she heard you were in danger,” Maul supplied, arms folded across his chest. “It was she that told the Jedi where you were.”

“She betrayed me?!” Savage growled.

“She was always going to, Ventress and Talzin do not care for anyone other than their own power and their goals. They would sacrifice any of us to get what they want,” Zaiya sneered.

“Will the others be alright?” Feral asked quietly. A silence fell over the room.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. There was a likelihood that the Nightbrothers may be punished… or even Zaiya’s mother. But if Talzin could not use it as leverage anymore, would it be worth her trouble? Zaiya couldn't be sure, but even before she had made the choice she knew she would be burdened by it.

“As much as retrieving Savage was important…” Maul began and Zaiya had a significant sense of dread crawling up her back like a blackbane spider. “I still have unanswered questions, Lieutenant. You pushed the conversation away before, but now I want answers. Tell me about the collar.”

Zaiya’s head lowered. She had begun to hope she would not have to tell him after dodging the question last time. There was no escaping it now.

She would have to face the truth.

She would have to tell him about Zygerria.

Notes: If you notice me posting late -- no you didn't!

I mean… Hello there. >> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Savage is back! Lets hope his memory is intact and he's alright. :/ Poor guy. They've all kinda been through the wringer, huh? But! Now they are altogether again! Except Feral's boyfriend of course… Are they gonna meet again? Next chapter… Zaiya finally has to come clean. Will Maul accept it? Or will he turn her away for her weakness?

As always I love love love feedback! Any comments or thoughts you have, send em my way! I love to read them! I hope you're all having a wonderful day!

----

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#a prince of dathomir #darth maul x oc #maul x oc #darth maul #maul fic #nightsister oc #savage opress #feral opress #zaiya valessa #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #asajj ventress #count dooku #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction

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yikimiki · 3 years

Note

Please more Reiner and size kinkkkkkkk

SAY NO MORE!!! I actually got really carried away with this one because Reiner with a size kink just makes me go insane

jock!reiner x fem!reader | warnings: smut, size kink, dirty talk, rough sex, semi-public, unprotected sex, college au, praise kink, creampie, breeding kink

♡ ♡ ♡

In his defense, Reiner warned you. You just decided not to take him seriously.

Could you blame yourself? Not really, not when a lot of guys like to play up their sizes to get people interested. In your blissful innocence, you thought that Reiner, local dumbass and above average quarterback, was doing the same when he told you like three times that he might have to prepare you a little longer. In your lustful and incredulous haze, you only rolled your eyes, pulling him closer and moaning once your mouths collided back into a heated kiss.

Party hook-ups were never your go-to, but these are different times. Tonight, after a huge back and forth between the two of you, the bubble of sexual tension finally exploded when you straddled his meaty tights, making out with him on the sofa. It wasn’t long before Reiner was panting and groaning, the imprint of his hard cock poking your inner tight, and even less time until he was practically begging to take you somewhere private.

Which leads you here: with your legs spread open, panties hanging on one ankle and skirt pulled up to reveal your soaked pussy. Your ass is pressed against the cold marble of the bathroom sink and your eager eyes are watching as Reiner finally pulls his pants down, dragging his underwear down with it.

Oh. That’s gonna be an issue.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, feeling both aroused and terrified at once. Reiner takes one hand to pump his cock, which his for sure the biggest you’ve ever seen. He’s thick and long, with a bright red tip and thick veins standing out. His balls are equally huge, heavy and loaded as he takes a step towards you. “Reiner, you’re so big.”

He scoffs, thumb circling his tip, where a fat bead of precum started to drip. “Sure you don’t want more prep?” He asks and, in a suicidal decision, you shake your head no. You’re being stupid for the second time tonight, but, now, it’s on purpose. As much as you think there’s no way in hell you’ll be able to take him inside, you want to feel the stretch of every single inch Reiner has to give you. He raises one eyebrow. “Sure about that?”

Tentatively, you curl one hand around his member, gasping once you notice you can’t even hold him all the way around. Reiner sees it too, hissing at the image. “I’m sure,” you say. “I wanna try.”

He takes another step towards you, large hands separating your thighs before he yanks you closer by the waist. You yelp at the movement, growing even wetter at his strength. “You sure you can take my cock, baby?” The pet name makes your toes curl, the vibrato of his voice now so much closer to you. Now that Reiner is standing tall before you, you come to terms with the fact that he’s huge all around — strong, defined muscles, tall, broad shoulders. He could break you in half if he wanted to. “Pussy looks so fucking tiny. I doubt I’ll fit.”

You gasp when two of his fingers spread your pussy lips apart. You hold his cock tighter, earning a groan from him. “Please, make it fit,” you almost sob. You never needed something so much in your life. “I can take whatever you give me, please.”

That seems to be enough for Reiner. He takes your hand away from his cock and lines his tip with your soaked entrance, rubbing himself up and down to catch more of your arousal. You are moaning at that feeling alone, entire body expecting for the moment that he finally enters you.

“Ready?” He asks. You nod, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Gonna go slow. But I can’t promise I’ll hold back later.”

“Okay,” you say.

The tip of his cock presses tightly against your entrance, intruding past the ring of muscle. Reiner growls against your ear at the feeling of your tiny pussy clenching around him, almost pushing him out. “You have to relax for me, baby,” he asks.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just— you’re so big, so big.”

“Shhh, I know, baby, I know.” Reiner kisses your temple, then presses forward once again. You cry out his name as his huge length splits you open, feeling like you’re about to cum from his size alone. By the time that he bottoms out — how, you have no idea — you’re crying out in pain and pleasure, nails digging into his large biceps as he waits for you to get used to it. “Fuck, baby,” Reiner moans. “You’re way too fucking tight. Pussy’s just sucking me in.”

“M-move, please,” you beg. “Please, Reiner.”

You don’t have to ask twice. Reiner is slamming his hips against yours in no time, pace getting faster and faster until you’re practically bouncing on the bathroom sink, tits moving up and down with the force of his thrusts. You just feel so small caged by his strong arms; the animalistic glint in his eyes making you feel like he’s about to eat you whole. Still, you can’t think much further than that, not with his huge cock fucking you dumb, brushing against every single sweet spot you have.

“G-God, you’re such a good girl,” Reiner hisses, one arm circling your waist so he can change the angle of his thrusts. “You’re taking my fat cock so fucking well, this tight little pussy is not even letting me slip out.” His cock throbs inside you as he says that, and some part of your fucked-out brain realizes that he must like the size difference just as much as you. “Tell me you like it, baby, tell me.”

“I love it,” you moan, throwing your head back. Reiner is attacking your neck in no time, deep voice vibrating against your jugular as your walls start to clamp around him. Your next words are a complete disconnected mess because of your orgasm, but every single one is like music to his ears. “R-Reiner, your cock’s s-so huge, so big, can’t take it— too much, it’s too much, I can’t...”

“Cum for me. You’re gonna be a good girl and gonna take every fucking inch of this cock,” he orders. You do both — walls spasming around his girth as your high washes over you, calling out his name again and again as if there aren’t hundreds of people just outside the bathroom door. But you don’t care, not when Reiner keeps using your pussy as his favorite toy, moaning and cursing as his own high approaches. “Tell me I can cum inside you,” he practically begs. “Tell me I can breed this pussy.”

You nod, still drunk off the pleasure. “Yes, please, fill me up, Reiner, please.”

His hand is on the back of your neck before you can think, pulling you into a kiss that is all teeth and tongue. “Gonna give you every drop of my cum, baby,” Reiner promises. “Gonna fill you up until your pussy is dripping.”

This time, you’re smart enough to believe his warnings. Reiner cums soon after — and he cums a lot. Wave after wave of white shoots out of his cock, his hands holding onto your hips so tightly you just know it’ll be sore in the morning. You’re stuttering out his name as another small orgasm rushes through your body, enough to push out his cum before he’s even done with it, dripping down the sides of his cock and onto the floor. With his size and his release, you feel as full as you can get, bliss overtaking your body as he finally pulls away.

“What a mess,” you giggle, looking down between your legs.

Reiner agrees with a chuckle, leaning in to place a soft kiss against your lips. “You did so well,” he praises and you feel yourself melt. “Mind if I call you one of these days?”

#reiner smut #reiner x you #aot reiner #Reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner headcanons #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

#leia organa #princess leia #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #time travel #Phoenix Posts

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minteyeddevil · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can i suggest the reactions of the brothers or datables (your pick!) to gn!mc calling them baby? 🥺 i hope you have a lovely day 😊

(If any of them were to call me 'baby' I would internally combust 🥺)

Lucifer:

The first time MC called Lucifer 'baby' was completely without thought process; it just slipped right out of their mouth

They had walked into his office to check on him, considering he had been holed up in there most of the day and it just came out

"Would you like me to get you anything, baby?"

He tensed and looked up at them immediately, the slightest color to his cheeks as he asked them to repeat what they had just said

When they did in fact repeat it word for word, the color only heightened in his face and he cleared his throat to get rid of the possible crack in his voice when he replied that it wasn't necessary to get him anything

That reaction they stirred from him only fueled them to call him 'baby' over and over again, enjoying how the tips of his ears would flare with color especially when they would call him that pet name at RAD or around his brothers

Mammon:

MC called him 'baby' when they were having an intimate moment, cuddled together on his couch, their limbs slightly tangled together

His cheeks were cupped by their hands and they were planting kisses on his face when they pulled away and mumbled it out loud

"I love you so much, baby.~"

Cue this demon external combusting; his face over heated and he pulled away from their hands, almost throwing himself on the floor

"W-Why would ya call me that all of a sudden!? Tryin' to make my heart explode or what!?"

They just followed him to the floor and wrapped their arms around him, calling him 'baby' over and over just to make him more flustered until he started attacking back with his own pet names and hugs

Leviathan:

MC was sitting with Levi by his computer, watching him plow through walls of enemies, an online match that he needed to win to be at the top of the leader board

When the final wave came barreling at his fortress, he managed to blast them all down with strategically placed canons and minions, sealing his victory of the game

They both jumped up and hollered, turning towards each other excitedly, when MC wrapped their arms around his neck, pressing their cheek to his

"I am so proud of you, baby!"

Another case of a demon's brain short-circuiting, a flush taking over the entirety of his face to the point you could have sworn steam was going to come out of his ears

"B-b-baby!? Did you just call m-me b-baby!?"

It would take him a really long time to get used to the pet name, always turning into an embarrassed ball of a demon whenever they would call him that

He eventually would start calling them 'baby' as well, enjoying how they would also fluster just as bad as he did

Satan:

MC and Satan were curled up together on the couch, watching a mystery series, when it slipped out suddenly from them

Satan was discussing the evidence provided by the detectives, trying to deduce who the murder was on his own before it was revealed on the show, and MC just smiled openly at him

"You really get into these kinds of shows, don't you, baby?"

His entire thought process was brought to a screeching halt when he blinked at MC with blank features for a moment, before grinning mischievously

"That's the first time you've used a pet name for me, kitten."

He leaned forward and placed a kiss to their cheek, enjoying the flustered color in their face when he used one in return

From than on, they would constantly use pet names for each other every chance they got

Asmodeus:

MC was assisting Asmo in getting ready for a Devilgram stream, helping him with his make and getting his hair to set just the right way

He smiles at his mirror, giving himself a once over, before turning to them for the final approval

"Look absolutely amazing, baby," they hum happily, only for him to gasp and pull them into a tight hug

"Oh MC, darling, you called me your baby! Well you're my baby too, I love you so much!"

Goes about pulling them into his stream and introduces them as his 'baby' and the love of his life, setting his fans aflame and making them spam heart emojis over and over for the two of them

Continues to use that specific pet name for them as they use for him from then on

Beelzebub:

The two of them were in the kitchen, working on dinner together, though MC was also making sure that Beel didn't eat everything before it was all ready

Caught up in their own work, they didn’t notice Beel stepping up with a bag of flour behind them, and turned right into him, sending said flour all over the both of them

They sputtered and wiped as much of the powder they could off of themselves, before turning to help him clean up as well

“Beel, baby, I’m so sorry! I got it all over your jacket and shirt!”

He stares at them for a bit while they help dust him off, before mumbling that he is okay, and grabs their hands suddenly

“Do you, uh, think you can call me that again, MC? I really liked it...”

They refer to him as ‘baby’ all the time after that

Belphegor:

Belphie and MC were set up in RAD’s library, he helping them to study for an upcoming exam in seductive speechcraft that they were nervous about failing

He set out all his notes and helped them review by quizzing them over and over with his own questions, trying to cover the whole topic as much as he could

By the end of the session, MC was feeling a bit more confident in themselves, pressing a loving kiss to Belphie’s cheek

“Thank you so much for the help, baby. I really appreciate it!”

His eyes widened my mere millimeters at the use of the pet name, but the smirk that took over his features made MC shutter

“I think you are the ‘baby’ here, silly human. Needing a demon to help you study so hard.”

Continues to tease them relentlessly, but also asks for them to call him that pet name again from time to time

Diavolo:

Diavolo was in the middle of working on a speech he needed to present to the student body of RAD, when MC walked into his office with a plate of food for him

He warmly welcomed their presence, accepting the plate of food, but asked if they wouldn’t mind listening to what he had written so far and give their opinion

When he completed his speech, he looked at them expectantly, almost crinkling the papers in his hand; they walked up to him and took his hands, beaming up at him

“It sounds amazing so far, baby. I’m sure it will great once you have it complete and you present it for the students.”

“Wait, excuse me? Say that again, please, dearest?”

Practically begs MC to call him all the pet names, they make this giant puppy-man so happy

Barbatos:

MC was walking along his side in the castle’s garden, helping him tend to the many flowers blooming there

They came to a stop at the tall sunflowers, and he leaned down to pour water at their roots, before reaching up and plucking a flower from its stem

He placed it behind their ear and smiled contently at them, making them flush and laugh lightly

“You’re so sweet, baby,” they mumbled, taking his hand as they continued walking

“I knew you were going to call me that,” he teased, despite the slightest blush to his cheeks; but they scoffed dramatically, narrowing their eyes at him despite the smile still on their face

“Cheater! You aren’t supposed to tap into the future like that, Barby!”

He simply chuckled, and turned to face them. “I foresaw another thing occurring as well.” Before they could respond, he leaned in and kissed them

Simeon:

MC decided to join him on a trip to the grocery story, going over the list he made of things needed for him and Luke

They are looking over some vegetables, judging which look the freshest, when MC raises one for him to check

“How does this one look, baby?” they ask nonchalantly, and he blinks a few times while staring at them

“Did...did you just call me ‘baby’?” he questions, and MC’s eyes widen a bit as well. “I, ugh, I guess I did. Is that okay?”

He smiles widely at them and nods. “I am not used to a pet name such as that one, but I really don’t mind if you would like to call me that.”

They proceed to try out other pet names on him as well, enjoying how they can manage to get this usually calm and stoic angel so easily flustered

Solomon:

“Okay, MC, just like we practiced. Hold out your hands...”

They take a deep breath and hold out their hands, palms upwards, and concentrate all their magical energy towards the center of their hands

A ball of orange light begins to form, before turning into a bright flame of fire, controlled by the movement of their hand

They stare in amazement, and turn to Solomon, beaming with pride

“I did it! Baby, thank you so much!” they gush, moving their hand around to watch as the fire responds to them

But the sorcerer smirks at them, stepping a bit closer. “So I’m your ‘baby’ now, is that it?”

Cue MC becoming a flustered mess as they realized what they said, sending the fireball careening around the room, and Solomon laughing his butt off as he puts out the fire for them

#obey me #shall we date obey me #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #diavolo #barbatos #simeon #solomon #request #headcanon #gn!mc

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: What the Heart Wants

Pairings: Young!Shota Aizawa x GN!Reader

Summary: You were a young hero in training, living in the United States. And when your high school offered an exchange internship to one of the hero agencies in Japan, you were first in line. But the last thing you expected was to fall for another of their young hopefuls.

Notes: Story features the other dumbigos as well. It’s implied that this story is just the reader reminiscing, and that the reader and Aizawa have been in an established relationship ever since.

Warnings: Mention of blood and a little battle damage, otherwise just superpowered teenage friends being pretty wholesome honestly.

My Masterlist

——————————

The first time you’d ever met the now pro hero Eraser Head, he hadn’t been much more than another teenager in over their head so much like yourself.

Back then you hadn’t known how to say no to anything either. While most of your classmates had been taking the typical internship offers from your state’s local hero agencies, you’d heard about a new exchange program abroad. And of course you’d jumped at the opportunity, anything to set yourself even one hair’s edge above the amazing competition.

Your Japanese had been terrible too honestly, so much so that you’d almost been afraid to speak for fear of ridicule once you reached Japan.

Luckily, the hero you were assigned to, Stunner Man was fluent in several languages. And his quirk was something akin to fireworks from his body at will, like a human flash bang. It greatly complimented your own quirk of consuming light energy to then expel it as energy blasts as well.

For the first few jobs together, you’d likely grown too confident and complacent because of this. It was all too easy to replace your own energy by drawing in that light from his fireworks. Sometimes to the point that all around you went dark, before then expelling the energy again as concentrated blasts from your hands to help incapacitate the small time villains you both ran across.

But then had come that rainy night and reports of a much stronger villain taking out actual teams of heroes somewhere downtown. Multiple agencies had responded to this of course, but your hero had been adamant about you staying behind. This was real danger he said, and it would be unheroic to let your desire for success blind you to your own inexperience. You would be a liability in the main battle, and you could be just as valuable assisting firemen and police in their efforts to evacuate the nearby apartment buildings instead.

Of course you were obedient, and so there you’d been, running up the stairs and through the corridors as fire alarms blared and people cried in panic in these high rise buildings. You’d put on your best act of confidence, directing the scared people to exits, asking them to mind their neighbors. You told them not to push, to please help those that were elderly or disabled, and that it would all be all right. Surely it would be because so many pro heroes were now on the job.

But just as you were almost done clearing the last floor at the top of that building, a terrible crash had sounded from far down the hall. Maybe debris breaking through from the nearby battle? You were cautious enough though to make sure that the police and firemen safely exited this floor entirely with the last civilians before you went to investigate.

You would make sure no one was left behind, that no one was hurt or trapped. But as you’d rounded the corner, in a glitter of broken glass and blood, that was where you’d first seen Shota Aizawa…Eraser Head.

He was only a sidekick you thought immediately though just from his age, so similar to your own. Yet he was already trying to get back to his feet even as you called out to him. The hole he’d come through in the large windows and the cracked wall around it were letting the rain now blow fiercely inside.

“Get back!” He’d yelled right back to you in Japanese however. As if he wasn’t losing blood all over the floor as you did pause brief enough to hear an odd humming sound outside even over the rain.

It was reflex of course. He hadn’t even been facing you, but the way he tensed you’d assumed what was going to happen only that fraction of a second before it did. Before whatever villain had just thrown him through this window attacked again, you’d used your energy reserves to make a shield of light between Shota and the broken windows and wall.

The blast that came through the hole had likely been intended to finish the boy. As it was, it still exploded violently against your force field, the recoil sending pain through your arms as you’d dug your boots into the floor beneath you as much as you could just to keep from being knocked backwards with the force.

You wouldn’t be able to take another direct strike like that without gathering more energy. And in the confusion as the blast did dissipate, you ran forward, grabbing the boy by the wrist. “Come on!”

You only saw the surprise in his reddened eyes for just a moment, the first time he’d really looked at you. His shaggy black hair was dripping on you from the rain before you both ran together.

“It’s going to get dark. Just hold on to me and trust me!” You spoke as you pulled your goggles down from off your head to cover your eyes in mid run. The goggles were a support item developed especially for you. In darkness you could switch between night-vision and thermal imaging to allow you to still see when your opponents and even teammates could not. And when you used your light abilities to discharge energy again, the opacity of the lenses darkened instantly to keep you from being blinded by the brightness of your own quirk as well.

As you both ran, you activated your quirk to draw energy from the artificial lighting in the hallway. True to your word, the whole hall became almost pitch black in short time. Your skin darkening to an inhuman shade as well as you used your power, a color akin to the lightless void now around you as you led him to a stairwell in the center of the building.

“Will the villain follow us in?” You asked as you closed the door, but making sure not to absorb all the light of the stairwell as well as you could still hear people making their way down to evacuate below. You knew you couldn’t stay in this place long. You had to protect these people you had already been trying to rescue as well. But information was always crucial to having a better chance at victory, and you needed anything that the boy could tell you quickly now.

As you lifted your goggles back up in the light of the stairwell, you were already trying to assess his wounds as well. But when you realized he was just staring at you, you finally made eye contact with him again just before he spoke.

“He’s more powerful out in the open.” The boy said. “So I don’t think he’ll follow us inside yet. But you’re assuming I’m a hero?” He sounded somewhat surprised? But the way he was looking you over, he was also trying to discern your quirk even in his own confusion.

“You told me to get back when I found you in the hallway, even though you were hurt.” You saw now that most of the blood was coming from his lower abdomen. A puncture wound maybe? “Who else would worry about others even when being attacked themselves?”

You saw his eyes widen a little at the sort of compliment, but you kept on. “And I’m sorry if I’m hard to understand. My name is (Y/N). I’m from the United States. Part of the intern exchange. I’m working for Stunner Man right now.”

“I can understand you.” He admitted. Though still looking at you in that odd way. “My name is Shota Aizawa.” He paused, seeming a little less confident, before he admitted his nickname. “Codename Eraser Head. I’m interning from the UA with His Purple Highness.”

“Oh,” You said, impressed truthfully, as that school’s hero course was obviously world renowned. But from the quizzical look you couldn’t help but show at his codename, he clearly had already discerned your next question.

He answered before you could ask, but even as he did you could tell he was already steeling himself for your disappointment. “I can erase others’ quirks just by looking at them.”

“You can…what?” You stared helplessly, for a moment almost forgetting your training to always be cool and collected as you tried to fathom what on earth this boy could really mean.

But he just stared back at you, was he that surprised at your reaction?

When he said nothing more, you had to shake away your shock to press further. “I’m sorry. This might be the language barrier again, but I need you to explain that to me please.”

Hero work could lead to unexpected team up situations at any time. And if this was to be one of those times, you both needed to know what you would be dealing with.

He frowned slightly, like he was having to talk more about himself than he was comfortable with. But he did comply. “If I activate my quirk while someone is in my direct line of sight, it inactivates theirs. But I can only do it for so long. Once I blink, or the line of sight is broken, their powers will come back.”

Silence hung between you for one long moment after his admission, and you could sense the tangible unease building in him.

You didn’t mean to make him jump either when you just blurted out. “That’s amazing!”

You still didn’t yell, but it was loud enough to be unexpected. But you couldn’t help it. You’d never heard of such a quirk. How could anyone be so powerful to make someone else quirkless just by looking at them!?

And why the hell did he look so self conscious about this? “You can’t be this modest. How are you not believing me that this is amazing!? I bet you only got thrown in here then because the rain obscured your vision, right!?” Your voice was quickening with your excitement. Your strategies to victory also readily multiplying in your brain. You could make a shield of light to push away the rain and Shota could look at the villain to make them helpless, then you could take them out with a subsequent light blast!

“My quirk has no offensive merit.” He deadpanned.

“Not every quirk has to!” You retorted, but maybe yourself now finally starting to understand a hint to his self conscious nature. “There are always multiple ways to win! Don’t they teach you that at UA?”

“We need to get moving,” He grumbled still in resistance to this subject. “People could be being killed out there.”

He wasn’t wrong you knew, as you nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to gather information.” Which fair was fair as you tried to keep your own explanation as straight forward as you could.

“As you saw, my quirk is that I can absorb visible light energy. It doesn’t matter what kind. I darken everything as I absorb the light around me. I can store it inside myself, then discharge it when I’m ready, to make force fields for defense…or light blasts for offense or distraction to blind opponents.” Like everyone though, there was always still a catch as you continued. “But the weakness is that once I’ve discharged what I have, I’m tapped out until I can absorb more light. Which, at night in a rainstorm like this…there’s not much to be had.”

He was mostly stone faced as he listened to you though. But there was an analytic sharpness to his eyes, like you were inputting information into a human calculator before abruptly he tried to walk back away from you as if to continue up the stairs.

“I have a plan then,” He announced quietly, his back already to you again.

As much as you somehow believed him already though, you grabbed his hand before he could get much farther. “And whatever that plan is, we still won’t be much help to anyone if you faint from blood loss.”

It was obvious he was someone not used to being touched, you could tell that from the instant way he stilled and looked back at you.

But you didn’t weaken at the stare, only offering him a slight smile. “I’ve been trained in emergency first aid as well. There are first aid kits all through this stairway.” You’d passed them on the way up. “I’ll be quick, alright?”

————————————

The logical side of him must have won out that night in that stairwell. He’d known you were right about at least stopping his bleeding. But that was the real beginning you thought. This odd relationship that would keep its hold on you both for so many years to come.

Him, still so skinny then and self conscious, quiet and awkward as he’d sat on one of the stairs, holding his shirt up so you could clean and disinfect the wound just above his belt while you kneeled in front of him. Luckily the injury was not as deep as it could have been. Just too wide to close or clot on its own as you’d wrapped his abdomen with the appropriate bandages after cleaning out the debris.

And you kept your word, you still weren’t negligent of your duty as a hero in training even then. You didn’t waste any time at all, being as quick and efficient as you could while working on him. But even if all your training told you to also keep your mind on the mission at hand, you’d still felt that warmth in you.

The intimacy was practical, professional. But it still had its effect as you’d run your fingers across his abdomen to finish securing the bandage. You felt him tremble just for the slightest moment, and then it was over. His shirt was back down and he was standing again.

He’d only muttered a quick “Thank you,” as you’d both headed for the roof to execute his plan.

And still only being teenagers then, the clumsiness of your yelling and waving to attract the villain’s attention again would be something you’d both have been embarrassed about now. But at the time, you’d really both done rather well considering your low experience levels.

That villain of course hadn’t been the only villain that night. The main heroes had had their hands full with the other, stronger one at the heart of downtown. This one had been more like the sidekick really, just trying to keep on the outskirts to run interference and keep even more heroes from joining the fray for his boss.

He’d picked off Shota earlier he thought, so he was easy to get worked up when he realized Aizawa was now back for more.

But that villain had drawn his power from the difference of electrical charges in the air. Obviously then at an even greater advantage over the two of you with the thunderstorm above. But the trick had only been avoiding his electrical blasts, but drawing the light energy from them enough times to eventually surprise him with a big enough blast in return.

There’d been a few miscues of course, as well as you using your shielding to protect Shota all the while trying not to get hit either before you could finally land that big enough return hit to stun the villain. Then Shota binding him up in his scarf like weapon and removing the enemy’s quirk long enough to deliver a decisive knockout kick to the villain’s head.

It was your first ever victory as a team.

—————————————

And it’d been a bit of a whirlwind afterward. The congratulations and acknowledgement from your respective heroes for the small, but positive role you had both played of course. But more personally for you, you had owed so much to one of Shota’s best friends you had met immediately in the hustle and bustle afterward.

Oboro Shirakumo, otherwise known as Loud Cloud had been there immediately, ecstatic to hear the story of Shota’s and your success. His extroverted and effervescent personality such a direct opposite to Aizawa’s quiet nature. But Oboro had been the one seemingly so excited to learn you were from the United States as well.

He’d insisted that he, Shota, and their fellow UA student and other best friend, Hizashi Yamada (codename Present Mic) show you the real young hero life in Japan before you would leave again in the coming weeks.

Without Oboro’s intervention, there was likely no way otherwise you would have gotten to see the shy Aizawa so many times again after that night.

As a group the four of you had gone to malls, out to eat, and to see the touristy sights you likely never would have gone to alone. They didn’t even make fun of your bad Japanese, well not seriously anyway. Hizashi did a few times, but in a way that had you laughing with him as he teasingly walked you through a few pronunciations you’d butchered yet again.

On your last night in Japan, you’d been feeling a little sad really though as you’d wished you had gotten to speak to Shota a little more one on one. Even though he’d accompanied you all on your excursions together in those few weeks, you still had noticed how little he really talked and how often he seemed to always be looking away from you.

In the end you just had to think you were being silly for the way you’d felt in the stairwell with him briefly that night and how often you’d thought of him ever since. You’d probably never see him again you knew.

That night though you’d all gone to a park together that met the beach and ocean. Oboro was insistent that you needed to see the view of the sea there before you flew back to the United States the next morning.

Oboro had made one of his clouds, taking just the two of you up high into the air. As Shota and Hizashi still on the ground grew smaller and smaller, you did look away to the horizon and the starlit ocean beyond. It was beautiful of course.

But what Oboro said next, made you forget all about that view entirely.

“He likes you you know. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.” The blue haired boy said as if it was as simple a truth as saying the sun would come up tomorrow.

Your head turned immediately, just to see Oboro smiling at you in an almost conspiring way. “And you feel the same don’t you?” He asked you. “You look at him the same way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me!” You blurted, stupidly protesting as if your stomach wasn’t already trying to tie itself into a knot.

But Oboro just laughed, that genuine, happy one you’d heard from him so many times already. “Well he knows what to do with his eyes doesn’t he? He has practice. Of course he doesn’t let you catch him staring!”

So many emotions ran through you at once then. Embarrassment at your naivety, sadness that you still had to be leaving the country regardless, shock that this could even be true, and….frustration that you would just be being told now!?

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Oboro. Why would you even tell me this now!?” You asked somewhat desperately, but still keeping your voice down in your escalating panic.

He raised his hands innocently, yet unafraid of you either way. “Hizashi and I have been encouraging him as much as we could to speak up, but Shota is like those stories where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object…but in this story both are Shota!”

You stared, the absurdity only mounting at his words.

He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed then. “He’s quite stubborn is what I mean? And he says it’s pointless because you’ll be thousands of miles away. And I said that’s what phones, email, and video calling are for! Of course conversation is not one of his better skills…”

“Oh, man” You sighed, yet trying to think in your nervousness. “Did he send you to tell me all this? Or does he even know we’re having this conversation right now?”

The boy just shook his head. “He didn’t tell me to, and I didn’t ask his permission, no. He would have only told me not to. But sometimes heroes have to do what heroes have to do, right?” A kind look overtook his face again. “I want to see him smile sometime. He actually has a nice smile you know. I think I’ve seen it all of twice,” Oboro joked.

And it was true, it’s not like Shota was cruel or anything. But he didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh. It was like he was always afraid to perhaps. You weren’t really sure yet. You hadn’t known him long enough. But surely Oboro and Hizashi had. You should at least be able to trust that they had made a correct assessment of their friend’s feelings.

“Well…” You hesitated. “If I told him I wanted to stay in contact…do you think he’d actually call or write me?” You looked at Oboro imploringly, unsure if it would hurt more to try this and be rejected later anyway if you still never heard from him again.

“I can only promise you that we’ll try to keep him from screwing up if it’s only his fear that’s holding him back. We all have to overcome fear in one way or another if we’re going to be pros one day.” He smirked then, before looking a little more boastful. “You know, when Shota, Hizashi, and I graduate, we’re going to start our own hero agency. I’m sure by then if you wanted to come and do some more work in Japan, we could make a space for you too. I’d be a bad manager to turn down foreign talent you know.”

He did seem so sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’ll talk to Shota. But, whatever happens, thank you for trying to help either way.”

Oboro gave an exaggerated thumbs up with, what honestly you were guessing was his best imitation of an All Might type grin. “Of course! Plus Ultra! Always!”

———————————

It was something how quickly Oboro and Hizashi got themselves out of sight, now just you and Shota on the beach together. Yet you suspected they may still be in earshot somewhere in the distance. No doubt painfully curious of how this would go and silently cheering their best friend on.

At first you were afraid that Shota was angry actually, the way he’d visibly bristled, shooting his friends’ quite unhappy stares before they’d left as he fully realized what was about to happen.

But he didn’t ignore you, nor did he look away from you this time as you got closer to hopefully speak a little more privately. “I’m sorry if this is…weird.” You started awkwardly. “But I don’t think you should be too hard on your friends either. It’s obvious they really care about you.”

Your foot was kind of shifting in the sand. Nervousness still flowing freely as you just kept on. “But I’d still like to hear it from you…if you’re wanting to keep in touch. If you want to get to know me better, I’d like that…so…um-” Ah, this would be awful at any time, but stumbling over words you’d only recently learned made it all the worse. “So is it true, Shota? Do you want to keep talking after I’m back home…maybe I can come back again though…I’d like to see you again…I really would.”

He was silent at first, but he was clearly listening. Intently, as if analyzing your every movement, your every word.

But it was painful how long you had to wait for a response. Surely it wasn’t really as long as it felt though before he finally responded. His voice surprisingly even, almost emotionless?

“You’ll be a successful hero if you keep to your studies and training. I find it unlikely that you wouldn’t be able to start at any agency of your choosing in the United States once you graduate.”

A huge compliment to be sure, as you stared at him in surprise. But what did that have to do with the subject at hand? Was he trying to avoid your questioning entirely?

Yet his eyebrows lowered before you could interrupt as he kept on. “So I don’t understand why you would ever want to come back to Japan longterm where your reputation would have to be built back up again just to get equivalent job offers to what you could attain already in the US. The one instance with capturing the villain at that apartment complex isn’t enough for top placement at the agencies here in Japan. Especially without UA accreditation on your record. You would be putting yourself at a disadvantage to be here. It would be a mistake for your career.”

You could swear you almost heard a groan from somewhere in the distance. If you’d put your goggles on now, you were sure you’d probably see Oboro and Hizashi hanging on every word, wherever they were hiding to eavesdrop in the dark.

But your brain was also quite busy trying to digest the most words you’d ever heard from Shota at one time. Was this his excuse to reject you more lightly? To say he was only thinking of your career?

Of course he was under no obligation to feel anything for you. You knew there were certainly those with more powerful or interesting quirks than your own, or people more physically attractive. You weren’t anything amazing in your own mind compared to all the potential superstars you interacted with on a daily basis back home.

Yet if he didn’t feel how you did, you wanted to hear it outright instead of buried in a confusing way like this, and you couldn’t help but admit so then. “So you think I shouldn’t ever want to date you because it could make me spend too much time in Japan and not become as famous as I could have been otherwise? Nice that you assume working at a top tier agency is the only thing I would care about for my future….”

Perhaps you did come across a little harsher than you intended, but the way his normally tired looking eyes suddenly widened in shock had you realizing you had definitely brought some sort of emotion out of him at last with those words.

“You…wanted to…date me?” He uttered the words as if he never would have expected that combination of syllables to ever leave his mouth.

Well, you never would have been so forward if you didn’t feel he forced your hand with that strange insinuation of saying your personal choices should all be tied to a need for future fame and fortune.

You put one hand on your hip, trying not to sound as dumb as he was making you feel in this moment. “Well, not like tomorrow or anything. We’d need to get to know each other some more of course. But yes, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks. But if you didn’t like me like that, then friends is fine. I was hoping that was what we were going to talk about here. If you…liked me like that or not.”

Oh Lord, was this high school like it should be or was this elementary playground kind of drama? You didn’t have enough experience to be any more adult about this. But it was a yes or no type of question wasn’t it? Either he felt some sort of interest and attraction like you did, or he didn’t. You just needed to know.

“I…think you’re talented. And capable.” He said, like it was taking so much just to do this.

It was maddening somehow though. Could he not just say he felt nothing if that was the case? Was he so afraid of hurting your feelings? But honestly, he didn’t seem the type to ever mince words either. “Shota…” You tried. “You know you don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings. All you have to say is that you’re not interested. I’m not some delicate flower.”

Yet, you were starting to feel guilty yourself. Maybe this was all wrong, trying to force him out of his comfort zone too much. You should just take a hint right?

When he still said nothing more, your stomach finally sank as you stepped back from him a little again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know the truth, so I didn’t have to worry wondering later. If I’m not your type that’s okay. I appreciate you taking the time to try and talk to me like this.”

Oboro must have been wrong. That was all it could be. His friends had seen something that wasn’t there, and then pushed it this far in a sincere, but misguided attempt to help their friend.

But the let down still hurt. In the span of a short time, Oboro had gotten your hopes up and then they’d crashed down again. You’d been able to admit your feelings to Shota, just for it to end up as one sided.

Or so you thought.

You started to walk away, not wanting to be further embarrassed if the disappointment in your face had really started to show.

But you froze as soon as you felt his shockingly quick hand grab around your wrist. The memory of you doing the same to him in the apartment complex flashed through your mind.

“I didn’t say you weren’t my type…not that I’ve had a type before.” He spoke, but not in his usual even tone as you looked back at him.

And that was likely the very first time you’d ever seen a little bit of fear in his expression. He was still holding your wrist tightly, but it was like he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to express whatever it was that he was really thinking.

“Eraser really is that bad at this! Just run with it, (Y/N)!” Hizashi’s voice boomed in the distance even if he was only partially using his quirk. The vibration startling you both as Shota immediately shot a death glare in that direction, his hair levitating as he activated his quirk as if trying to lock on to Present Mic even in the dark.

And you couldn’t help it then, slipping your wrist out of Shota’s grip at his distraction, but just as quickly clasping your hand warmly around his own instead as you used your quirk to absorb some of the ambient starlight. It created a dark spot on the beach between the two of you and the others, just enough that Oboro and Hizashi would no longer be able to see. Though Shota would still be able to see you as you chose to take a risk, leaning in enough to kiss his pale cheek.

His hair fell back down at that very personal touch, the red glow also leaving his eyes as he looked back to you.

But you couldn’t read him then. You weren’t sure at all what would happen.

Yet he was still human wasn’t he? Even as stoic and calculating of a person as you’d ever met, he was still human, and still young then with that touch of recklessness you all had deep down.

And when you felt his lips touch yours not long afterward, it was as clumsy as could be expected for teenagers. But you didn’t care at all as you easily returned the kiss.

You knew immediately then that you would be coming back to Japan as soon as you could. Your goal was still to be a pro hero, but it didn’t really matter where.

A true hero’s spirit came from the heart. And if your heart ended up in Japan…who were you to tell it no?

———————————

(End for now. ❤️ I will likely write more of this pairing, but not sure of how soon. Thank you for reading!)

#shota aizawa #shouta aizawa #shota aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x you #shota aizawa x you #shouta x reader #eraser head #shouta x you #eraserhead #shouta x y/n #eraser head x reader #eraser head x you #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero imagines

173 notes · View notes

oliviajdjarin · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #star wars #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

The prompt you wrote with baby MK was extremely cute, but it also gave me an idea that wouldn't leave my brain: Imagine that same situation, but with Mei and Macaque. This is an open prompt, you can do with this whatever you like!

MK isn’t the only one who gets to have this kind of curse/ailment anymore! And I can’t resist putting this in the Cursed AU specifically, simply because I love the idea of this Macaque being confronted face first with the fact he actually cares. Even if it happens 200 times.

"What in the absolute hell are we supposed to do now?" Macaque groaned out, looking around the both of them for any indication of an escape that didn't involve him leaving Mei behind. Which was looking slimmer and slimmer if he didn’t want her to be in more physical danger than she already was. So. Stranded it was.

"I can still help!" Mei insisted, crossing her arms and standing her ground with a wide smirk. "I'm not powerless you know!"

"Never said you were, Jade," Macaque acknowledged instantly, tensing for a half moment when he realized how much he had to be attached to say something like that so fast. He forced himself to relax once again, no point in adding more fuel to the fire of worry that laid between them. "This just makes things complicated."

Oh yeah... complicated, that was one way to put it, definitely. If Macaque was being generous. And ignoring the fact that Mei wasn’t even 4 feet tall... and 4 years old. Physically.

Macaque was supposed to be on official mystic monkey business alone. Or at least that’s what he told Mei and MK to hopefully keep them out of his fur, but apparently Mei had other ideas. Like sneaking onto the private boat he had paid for to be taken to this secluded island far out into the ocean undetected, much farther than Mount Huaguo was. How she managed to sneak past security he may never know, now would he know how she managed to stay hidden for their 7 hour journey, and he would never admit that he was genuinely impressed.

He genuinely had not known she joined him until after the boat left, leaving them both stranded for at least the next 24 hours.

Horray.

Things had actually been going pretty ok, for the most part, after she had made herself known. In actuality Macaque was here to hunt down a specific item of his he had left behind on the island years ago, nothing really world shattering just... important to him. He knew that it would be safe here when he left it, the island as uninhabited and out of the way for humans to come to as it was.

But he also knew many powerful demons occasionally used this island as a hiding ground for when they were injured or planning something, against the owner’s wishes. And unfortunately one such demon just happened to be there on the one day of the while year he planned on coming.

That demon was deader than anything else on this island at the moment. Macaque hadn’t tried to kill him, not really, but they had lobbed something at him that Mei jumped in front of and he reacted on instinct.

If the thing had hit him in the first place they would probably be just fine. A decade and a half off his life span was nothing, unless it was set to a specific age in which... well, he was already able to do most of what he could do as a child so they still probably would have been ok. And hopefully she would be, if his memory served this particular demon was talented only in making temporary cursed and potions... mostly.

He hoped.

“Are you certain using your powers won’t hurt you?” Macaque asked, staring down at the short girl before him.

“I don’t think so?” Mei said with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve kinda had them for as long as I remember so... probably not.”

“Let’s not take that chance,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking around the beach. There was nothing for him to use, no emergency radio or boat. The best they had found on their entire search was a dinky little shelter. “It looks like our best bet would be to hunker down in that building and wait until mid day tomorrow for the boat to return. Provided there aren’t any more demons around we should be fine...”

“I can build a fire!” Mei proclaimed, running off before Macaque could even hope to catch her.

Something pulled in his chest, a protective thrum that he hadn’t felt since... since his journey with MK, but was becoming increasingly common the more time he spent training Mei. And he hadn’t felt that for so long he had forgotten what it felt like when it happened then, so unfamiliar with the desire to protect his old home and monkey friends of Mount Huaguo.

He would never admit even to himself that that feeling was “caring”. At least not yet.

“Jade, get back here!” Macaque yelled, moving to rush off after her before she came barreling back herself with armfuls of sticks and pine cones.

“I got everything we need!” She laughed and threw everything down in front of the building, looking around. “Did you see any rocks?”

“I know how to build a fire,” Macaque said softly, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “We probably don’t even need one.”

“Aw, but this is like a camping trip now!” Mei said, flailing her arms in the direction of the sticks. “I’ve even got marshmallows in my backpack!”

“Why did you bring m-never mind,” Macaque groaned, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. “OK. We’ll build a fire.”

It had gone better than hoped, actually. Macaque was able to start the fire with ease and Mei had apparently thought ahead enough that she’s brought the ingredients to make something called s’mores. Macaque had never seen them before, either they were new or they were a foreign treat, but MK had mentioned them to him on their journey and he had to admit... they were nice.

He just wished the gooey marshmallow didn’t stick to his fur so bad.

“And then MK did something that made the clone glow gold and explode into a bazillion pieces of hair!” Mei said, sweeping her arms out as she finisher her story. “And that’s how MK created and saved me from Porty Clone.”

“Sound like MK’s clones had quite the variety to them,” Macaque said with a smile. He’d relaxed over the evening, the normal sounds of the island confirming to him that it was just the two of them now and that at the very least they were safe from attack for the moment. “No wonder he’s careful not to overuse them.”

“Yeah, but Porty was pretty fun until he went overboard,” Mei replied, words cutting off with a yawn and a shiver as the wind picked up. “What time is it?”

Macaque looked up, watching the moon and the stars. “Late enough that it would be best to get some rest. We don’t want to miss the boat after all.”

“Hey, you only paid them half so they better come looking for you if you don’t show up!” She laughed out, making her way into the building as Macaque dumped sand on the fire to douse it. Just in case, don’t need the island catching fire with the wind. “ So uh... what are you going to tell them about... me?”

“That I came here looking for you,” he said plainly, shutting the door behind them. The moonlight shone through the windows of the shelter, giving them just enough light to see the one sad little cot it housed, right next to the massive stock of canned food they had also raided for dinner. He pulled the blanket on the cot back, grimacing at the dust on the blanket but satisfied with the condition of everything under it. He went outside to shake it out and make it usable again. “They know I was looking for something and that’s all they need to know.”

“What were you looking for anyway, Hot Topic?” Mei asked after a moment, watching Macaque make the bed again. “And how do you... know about this place?”

“... it’s mine, actually,” he said quietly, looking around the sad shelter. Unfurnished, cold and empty, with only the island itself and non-perishable food for survival. “I haven’t been back in a long time and most know to stay away, but sometimes demons don’t care. I was looking for something... unimportant.”

“It must have been important if you came all this way to find it,” Mei said, yawning again and rubbing her eyes.

“Ok, that’s enough of that!” Macaque exclaimed, hoping his glamor was hiding the embarrassed flush of his ears at her accusation. “Time for sleep!”

Without giving her a second to protest Macaque grabbed her around the waist with his tail and deposited her under the now clean enough blanket before forcibly tucking her in.

“Hey!” She protested, scowling at him once her arms were free. “I can’t sleep yet!”

“Why not?” Macaque chanced, wondering if he was going to regret this.

“You never told me a story.”

“... huh?”

“At the camp fire!” Mei insisted, leaning over the bed to grab her backpack and hold it to herself like it was a stuffed animal (which wasn’t hard since it was... basically a hollow stuffed dragon anyway). “I told you a bunch of stories about me and MK and Piggy and Tangy and Sandy and you didn’t tell me anything about you and the Monkey King! So spill one, I’m not going to sleep until you do!”

Macaque wanted to say no, wanted to glare at Mei until she just went to sleep through sheer exhaustion, wanted to walk out of the building and just stand guard at the door instead... but he kept looking into her teeny tiny 4 year old glower and he couldn’t help but sigh in defeat.

“Fine...” He said after a moment, moving to sit at the head of the bed. He watched as Mei smiled widely, making herself comfortable. “Let’s see... where should we begin... How about the time Wukong thought it would be a good idea to challenge the whole island to 1 on 1 combat for the title of king because he was bored, long before his proper training?”

“That sounds like him,” Mei said, smiling into her backpack with another yawn as she closed her eyes. “Yeah... tell that one.”

“OK, so this was only a little while after he jumped through the waterfall...”

And Macaque went on and on, giving much more detail than necessary, watching as Mei slowly relaxed until she eventually nodded off before the story even got close to the ending.

Which was... probably good for Macaque, to be honest.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the item he had come here to find. It was simple, all things considered. A little carved crown, made from wood and preserved carefully through the years, far too small for his head and more of a bracelet. Wukong had made it for him when their own duel, the final one of the whole island, ended in a draw all those centuries ago. A show of how they could, maybe, rule the mountain together one day. He’d left it here so long ago that he worried it would have been destroyed or fallen apart over time.

Apparently Wukong knew a little something about what he was doing back then after all.

Macaque smiled, slipping it back into his pocket as he slid off the bed to sit against it, all six ears fluttering out to listen to the island around them. Just in case.

Mei slept mostly soundly behind him and if she started to whine in the beginnings of a nightmare and he turned around to soothe her and whisper that he was there and she was alright well... that would be something to talk about if she remembered it.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #deage fic #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #cursed au #dad macaque #i couldn't help adding in a little idea i had with him and wukong at the end #since this is pretty much non-canon to the au anyway

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fireladybuckley · 3 years

Text

It Isn’t in my Blood

Fandom: 9-1-1 Prompt: Inspired by @kitkatpancakestack‘s “what if Buck finds the pamphlet“ post Pairing: Implied future Buddie - Evan Buckley (Buck) x Eddie Diaz Word Count: 2,330 Summary: SPOILERS - A 5x01 missing scene - Buck finds the pamphlet on anxiety and panic attacks given to him by the cardiologist at the hospital and encourages Eddie to tell him what happened. Eddie breaks down and admits that maybe not everything is okay.

Beta’d by @firemedicdiaz Thank you babe <3

Read it on Ao3

“I’ll just be a minute, you staying here?” Eddie asked, hopping out of the truck and looking over at Buck.

“Sure, sounds good,” Buck said, yawning. Eddie nodded and closed the door, hurrying up the sidewalk as Buck settled back in his seat. It had been such a long, chaotic shift and Buck was exhausted; Eddie just had to drop off a form at Christopher’s school and then they were going for breakfast. Buck figured he had time for a short nap and shut his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come.

After a while it became apparent that Eddie was going to be longer than he’d said, and Buck was getting restless. He grew bored quite easily of late, so he began poking around Eddie’s truck - changing the radio station, fiddling with the air freshener. Absently, Buck hit the button on the dashboard that opened the glove box in front of him and looked down into it, wondering if there were any travel brochures left in there from a previous road trip that he could look at. Instead, he pulled out a very different kind of pamphlet that looked like it had been shoved in carelessly and as he read the front, his eyebrows contracted with a small frown.

Understanding Anxiety and Panic Attacks - Recognize the Signs and Symptoms

Underneath the pamphlet were a couple of folded sheets of paper. Upon quick inspection, Buck saw that they were discharge papers from the hospital dated a few days earlier with Eddie’s name in the patient field.

Buck’s heart squeezed painfully as he stared at the slightly crumpled papers and then back at the pamphlet, realizing what it must all mean. Buck had been startled earlier in the shift when that doctor had called out to Eddie, but Eddie had been very resistant to talking about his trip to the hospital. Buck had dropped it for the time being as they had been chaotically busy the entire shift, but he had always intended to grill Eddie about it later. Now, he suddenly understood what must have happened. He knew from experience how scary panic attacks could be, how they could feel like a heart attack, especially if a person had never had one before.

He remembered how uncomfortable Eddie had looked when Buck had tried to confront him. Buck knew how much Eddie relied on everyone thinking he was this stoic, unmoving rock, because it allowed him to hide his feelings and keep everything bottled up. Buck was well aware that he himself and Bobby were the only two people that Eddie ever opened up to, and it made Buck’s heart hurt as he considered how shaken up Eddie must have been by the whole incident to be so resistant to telling him about it.

Buck sighed, wishing he had known, thinking about how he could try to help Eddie as he skimmed the pamphlet. He wanted to help, hating the idea that Eddie could be going through this alone. He distinctly remembered how Eddie had tried to drag Buck out of his horrible depression and anxiety after the fire truck had crushed his leg and he wanted to be there for Eddie in turn. Buck knew that Eddie had Ana, but if Buck was right about their relationship, he suspected that Eddie would be uncomfortable talking to her about his emotions. He’d always had the feeling that while Eddie clearly liked Ana and they got along well, their relationship wasn’t particularly deep and Buck knew that Eddie had to really trust someone before he would open up.

Lost in his thoughts, Buck was still looking at the pamphlet in one hand, the discharge papers held loosely in the other, when Eddie returned.

“Alright, that’s all done, let’s go t-- Buck, what the hell?”

Buck jumped as the driver’s door opened and Eddie swung himself inside, only to freeze when he saw what Buck was holding and reading through. Buck started to stammer as Eddie snatched the papers and pamphlet out of his hands and threw them back into the glove box, snapping it shut and staring straight ahead, his chest rising and falling quickly, his jaw set.

“Eddie, I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, I just found that in the glove box and I couldn’t help looking at it…”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing.” Eddie’s voice was clipped, and Buck could tell he felt vulnerable and was not pleased about it.

“I mean, it’s not nothing,” Buck replied cautiously in a coaxing tone. He hadn’t been planning on talking to Eddie about this before breakfast, but then there was no time like the present. “Is this why you were in the hospital the other day?”

Eddie shot him an annoyed look, because it was obvious that Buck had seen the discharge papers so the question was redundant, but then he sighed and nodded.

“Yeah. I’m fine though.”

“Eddie… you’ve been through so much. There’s no shame in having a panic attack--” Buck began, but Eddie started the truck and cut through his words sharply.

“I don’t panic.”

Buck frowned as Eddie pulled away from the curb and began to drive without saying another word. Deciding to give him some space for a few so he could collect his thoughts, Buck stayed silent as they moved through the streets. To his surprise, Eddie pulled up in front of Buck’s apartment building and parked, still looking straight ahead.

“I… thought we were going for breakfast?” Buck asked slowly, not sure what to expect. Eddie seemed to steel himself, then glanced towards the building and shut off the truck.

“I know you’re not going to let this go, and I don’t want to do it in public. Let’s go up to your loft.”

Eddie’s voice was gruff, but Buck was grimly pleased that he wasn’t resisting. Buck knew that Eddie knew Buck would not let this slide, would not let it rest until he was sure that Eddie was okay. Taking his lead, Buck agreed and hopped out of the truck, following Eddie up to his building and then leading the way into his apartment.

“Let’s get this over with,” Eddie said in a resigned voice as he moved into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, Buck pulling himself up and sitting on the counter across from him. “What do you want to know?”

“What happened?” Buck asked simply. “I know you went to the hospital, you were seen by a cardiologist, and now you have a pamphlet on panic attacks. What actually happened?”

Eddie gnawed the inside of his lip, still refusing to look at Buck as he mulled over what to say. He was staring at the lower part of the counter in front of him, Buck’s shoe dangling in his line of sight, though he wasn’t seeing much. All he could see in his mind was that damn suit store, the feeling of the tightness in his chest making him feel claustrophobic and deeply uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. We were trying on suits, and then I just… collapsed. I thought I was having a heart attack,” Eddie summarized it as succinctly as he could, but he knew it wasn’t going to be enough for Buck.

“Okay, but what triggered that?” Buck asked, his voice gently prodding. “Did something upset you, or…?”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably, and Buck’s lips curled in a small, sad smile.

“Eddie, it’s just me. You can talk to me. You know you can trust me. Please tell me what happened.”

For a brief moment, Eddie lifted his eyes and met Buck’s gaze. Buck’s expression was earnest, concerned, and Eddie knew he was right. If there was anyone in this world he could trust, it was Buck. Still, he hated talking about his emotions, especially ones he felt like he couldn’t control. And yet, he felt like if he didn’t share it with someone he may explode because he was starting to seriously wonder what was going on in his brain.

“I… you know I’m not good at this,” Eddie muttered, and Buck nodded.

“I know, but… you were there for me when everything with my parents was going on. You told me it was okay to feel what I was feeling, and to share it. I want that for you, too,” Buck told him gently, and Eddie sighed. He felt like a hypocrite; he had told Buck those things, and he had meant it. But for some reason when it came to himself, he had different rules.

“The last time Chris and I wore suits was at Shannon’s funeral,” Eddie said, averting his gaze once more as he began to speak. “I guess that was already putting me on edge. I couldn’t stop thinking about her death and everything that had happened right before she died. I just wanted to get out of there.”

Eddie paused but Buck didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt. Buck had a feeling that if Eddie stopped talking he wouldn’t start again so he waited patiently, keeping his mouth shut.

“I think Chris was feeling it, too, but I was too distracted to notice. And then… then the sales guy called Ana Chris’s mom.”

Buck tilted his head to the side, looking over at Eddie, slightly confused. Eddie and Ana had been together for nearly six months, it was only natural that at some point she would be mistaken for Chris’s mom. But Eddie seemed shaken and Buck wasn’t sure he was going to continue.

“What happened then?” Buck asked quietly, trying to gently prompt Eddie to speak again without spooking him. Eddie had gotten a somewhat haunted look in his eyes and Buck could tell he was getting upset. He was tempted to tell Eddie to stop, not wanting him to be distraught, but he sensed Eddie really needed to get it out there, so Buck would do everything he could to coax it out.

“I- I genuinely don’t know,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “Hearing that, it just… it intensified my thoughts about Shannon, and thinking of Ana as Chris’s mom is just - just so far beyond where we are in our relationship, and I- I…”

Eddie was starting to get visibly upset and Buck slipped off the counter, moving over to stand beside him in case he needed support.

“It made me realize that m-maybe I don’t want-- maybe things aren’t going so great, or something. I don’t know.”

“And then?” Buck prompted gently, feeling his heart break as Eddie glanced at him, clearly upset.

“And then… I don’t know. I don’t panic,” Eddie said stubbornly, though as he thought back to what had happened, he let out a long, unhappy sigh. “But… I guess I panicked. I don’t know. I felt overwhelmed, and my chest got tight and I couldn’t breathe… I got really dizzy and fell over, I thought I was having a heart attack.”

“Panic attacks can be really scary,” Buck told him, trying to reassure him. “They can definitely feel like heart attacks.”

“I don’t panic,” Eddie repeated, scowling at the floor. “I never panic. Not in the military, not when Shannon died, not when you nearly died several times…”

“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot,” Buck reasoned, trying to brush off the last part of the sentence, as though it wasn’t a big deal to him that his near-death experiences were one of the things Eddie considered most upsetting. “Do you think the shooting could be part of this? Or is it just your relationship?”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably again, not responding, and as Buck watched him, he saw tears start to pool in Eddie’s eyes, despite Eddie continually refusing to make eye contact.

“Are you okay?” Buck asked quietly, reaching out and touching him, gripping Eddie’s forearm lightly in a gesture of support. This one little touch seemed to have caused him to come undone, however, and Buck saw his expression contort, his lips pressed together tightly as he tried and failed to stop himself crying.

“No,” Eddie finally blurted out, seemingly completely against his will. “No, I’m not okay.”

Buck’s heart broke and he immediately reached out to embrace Eddie, giving him a chance to pull away if he wanted. When he didn’t, Buck wrapped his arms around him and held him as Eddie choked into his shoulder, trying desperately to stop himself from outright sobbing. It was rare that Buck had seen Eddie cry - he hadn’t seen it since Shannon’s death - and Buck wished he could take Eddie’s pain away, wished he could make the world right for him again.

After a few moments Eddie squirmed in his arms and Buck got the message that he was uncomfortable so he pulled away, but he didn’t go far. Eddie seemed determined to not meet his gaze, furiously wiping at his eyes, and Buck gently rubbed his back, sensing that he really wanted comfort but was trying to stop himself from allowing it. They stood like that for a while, until Eddie’s attempts at stopping his tears dissolved and he took a shaky breath, letting them slip down his cheeks as he pulled himself together.

“It’s okay to not be okay sometimes. You’re going to get through this,” Buck told him, his hand stilling in the middle of Eddie’s back. “And I’m gonna help you get through it, if that’s what you want.”

Eddie swallowed, sniffing, as he listened to Buck speak. He’d always gone through things alone. He’d always thought that was the best way to do it. But in that moment, standing there, knowing he had Buck’s full love and support behind him, Eddie started to wonder if maybe having Buck at his side would be a much better option than going it alone. Eddie nodded slowly, glancing at Buck for a moment before looking away, nodding again.

“Yeah,” Eddie took a shaky breath and looked over at Buck, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope in his heart. “That’s what I want.”

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