#I saved this draft this morning and then was confused when I saw it now so that’s where I’m at but I’m right about this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatcrazycrowgirl · 9 months

Note

Hiii! Ty for doing this! Could you pls write the soft kissing prompt number 11 with a female reader? Tyvm!

Hello, nonnie! I am truly sorry for not finishing this sooner, but I was finally able to rescue it from the draft purgatory, and here is it for you! I do hope you like it! ^_^

11. Sharing a kiss while lying in bed - Arno Dorian

It had been an overall quiet day for you, void of much stress or worry. Business at the Café Théâtre had been slow, which gave you time to take care of some early spring cleaning in the attic space.

Some may have found it dull, but when you were the wife of a man who was secretly an Assassin, the aura of calm monotony was always a welcome thing.

Granted, some anxiety did eventually begin to bubble up when nearly an entire day passed and your husband, Arno - whom you knew had some quick Assassin business in the early morning, but nothing else, as far as you were aware - hadn’t come back yet.

As you now sat in bed, reading as you waited for supper that was currently being prepared downstairs, you tried not to harbor any discomforting thoughts regarding your spouse’s fate.

Your few fears were finally put to rest, though, when you heard the sound of heavy boots ringing through the hall outside of the bedroom door, rhythmically occurring with Arno’s usual gait. Although, if you had paid more attention, you would’ve noticed that the footsteps were heavier than usual - almost as if they were driven by anger or annoyance.

However, you were still too caught up in your book.

It wasn’t until you heard the irritated mumblings and the door being closed slightly harder than usual, that you finally caught on to the now-obvious fact that something wasn’t quite normal.

You jumped slightly at the noise and looked up to see Arno had indeed returned, and was indeed, quite put off.

“‘He solves ‘em, you get the credit’,” he muttered in a light-toned, mocking way to himself, seemingly not noticing you were in the room. His voice then switched to a lower, more gravely pitch, as he added, “‘Meanwhile, I have more important things to do’.”

Turning your entire attention to him now, you rested your book on your lap and watched as he removed his gloves and locked the door behind him.

“The things I get myself into,” he grumbled, still talking to himself, once again in his normal tone of voice.

When he turned around and finally saw you staring, he only paused in his movement for a moment or two, before tossing his gloves aside and trudging his way over to the bed.

“Uh...good evening?” you chanced, a little unsure of how he was going to reply.

He only harrumphed in response, his eyes not quite meeting yours. Not bothering to remove his Assassin’s robe or his gear, he flopped down, belly-first, onto the bed and buried his face under his pillow like a petulant teenager.

A blink in confusion was your initial reaction. “Problem?” you prodded gently afterwards, though you couldn’t stop your eyebrow from raising.

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother with people,” came the muffled response.

You smiled, in spite of his attitude. “Because as much as you try to put on a standoffish front, deep down, you actually care,” you pointed out, as you tossed your book towards the end of the bed and turned your entire attention to the man.

He groaned in response.

A sympathetic look appearing on your face that you knew he couldn’t see, you reached out and began to rub his back - a silent way of letting him know you were listening.

However, there was only silence, save for the occasional sigh, as his tense back relaxed into your welcomed touch.

“Arno? Arnoooo...” you cooed to him in a sing-song tone, trying to get his attention.

“What?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” you prompted in a gentle voice, undeterred by his grouchy response. Your hands smoothed over his back and down his sides to rub them, as well.

There was a soft moan in response to your touch, and he finally removed the pillow from his face. Putting it behind his head, he rolled onto his back to look at you. Almost immediately, you could see in his eyes how fatigued he was, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Talk to me, Arno. Tell me what’s on your mind,” you entreated. You lay down next to him, molding your body into his side, and rested your head upon his shoulder.

He glanced down at you and seeing you looking up at him, he took a deep breath. Leaning his head back on the pillow more, he stared up at the ceiling as he began to recount. “I was over in the Ile de la Cité district earlier. When I was passing by a spot, I heard some commotion...and my curiosity got the better of me, so I went inside to investigate...”

“Mmm-hmm? Go on...” you prompted, before giving his jaw a few encouraging, affectionate pecks. Your hand rested upon his chest.

“And there was this...this Police Minister...if you could call him that...he does nothing but sleep, apparently...” he added, his speech peppered with a few pauses as his body started reacting to your kisses. His arm wrapped around your waist and rested upon your back, mirroring your earlier action of tenderly rubbing it. “...and there also was some thief named Vidocq...”

“Yes...?” After a couple kisses to his neck, those lips of yours trailed up to his earlobe, where they soon attached themselves, nipping and sucking one of the spots you knew Arno liked best.

“And...and...” Closing his eyes, his voice hushed down to a deep, long sigh as his senses finally caught up with him. It was as if all the stress and frustration had left his body at that moment along with the sound.

“You were saying?” you prompted, wanting him to know you were still listening. But nevertheless, you couldn’t help stop the secret smile that appeared on your lips, pleased at his reaction.

His eyes flew open. “Hmm? Right...! Well, somehow they ended up enlisting me to solve some murders that had nearly turned cold. So, add that to my constantly-filling plate, I suppose,” he lamented.

“And you will soon clear that plate with ease, I’m sure of it,” you told him as you nuzzled his neck.

His hand now in your hair, he pulled back a little to look at you, a question in his eyes. “Do you really think so?” he asked softly, displaying the rare look of uncertainty he was always so good at masking with sarcasm or mirth.

You nodded a little, reflecting a look of love back into his eyes. “I do.”

After regarding you and your words for a moment or two, a small smile finally appeared on his lips as he took your encouragement to heart.

“Then, hang it,” he said. before unexpectedly rolling over on top of you to give you a full-on, proper kiss. “I’m not going to let some lazy Police Minister and a petty thief ruin my evening.” He tenderly stroked your cheek. “Not when I have better things to spend what little energy I have left on.”

“Wise decision, dear husband,” you praised, before pulling him in for another kiss.

“I do come up with those sometimes, you know,” he lightly quipped in return.

Seeing his normal, semi-sarcastic humor on the rebound, your heart lifted and your grin only grew. “A good heart and a wise mind, it’s no wonder why I love you.”

He lightly rested his forehead against yours, looking deeply into your eyes. “And I, you,” came a husky murmur before he kissed you again. Something in his voice seemed to change the mood right then and there, and a tiny moan unexpectedly slipped from your mouth into his. (Though perhaps, feeling his hand slip under your petticoats and run up the outside of your leg could’ve also had something to do with it.)

“Thanks for listening,” he whispered between kisses. “I sometimes wonder what I’d do without you.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied simply, knowing no other words needed to be said. You merely wrapped your arms around his neck and shifted your body closer to his as your lips met again and again. You could feel his fervor increasing, but as welcome as it was after his previously somber mood, you needed air - so you reluctantly broke the kiss.

“By the way...speaking of filling one’s plate...supper should be ready soon...” you murmured, panting ever so slightly. Gazing up at him with a sweet look in your eyes, you combed your fingers through his ponytail, certain that information would please him. After all, you knew a good meal typically improved his mood after a long, tiring day. Do to his exhausting work, it seemed like there were times he could never properly enjoy one. Certain that he was probably aching as well, you made a mental note to consider suggesting a post-supper bath to him, as well.

Hearing your words, a hungry half-smirk appeared on his lips. Though, when he gently gripped your thigh and pressed it against his hip, your suspicions of just what exactly he was hungry for increased. They were soon confirmed when he purred, “As much as I’m glad to hear that, I think we may have a little time to spare for ourselves before then.”

#I don't know if I would consider this my best work but I do hope y'all like it #(gosh I've been so busy lately that I feel so out of practice with writing AC lol)#Arno Dorian x Reader #Arno Dorian #my ac writings #ask replies

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chogiwow · 9 months

Text

hello, mr. lee | lee know

pairing: platonic ; gn!reader x lee know

genre: slice of life, angst

wc: 3k+

warnings: allusions to abusive family, dysfunctional family, bruises, mention of blood | reader and minho are not romantically paired !!

a/n: i forgot i had this in my drafts still, so repost it is !

minho first saw you when he was taking out the trash.

there you were, sitting on the ground in front of your door in your school uniform, hunched up over your knees and twiddling your thumbs absentmindedly.

he must have looked surprised when you turned your head towards him, because you smiled sweetly; vivid purple marks were visible on your cheeks and your lips looked bruised too.

"you okay kid?" he asks. and he wonders why he asks too, because he never asks; he is not a tad bit interested in his neighbours. his supposed humane nature had probably been nudged on seeing your beat up face.

"what– oh this?" you point at your face, still crouching on the mosaic flooring, "i fell down."

you laugh a silly little laugh, visibly wincing when you grinned too wide and the cut on your lips stung.

"you're the new neighbour aren't you? i saw you when you were moving in. yeji thinks you're kinda hot – yeji's my best friend – but she finds every other person hot. although i would say that you're kind of cute, oh i also saw your cat, is it a he or a she? they're really cute too. i'm positive though i saw you feeding a different cat yesterday though–"

oh god you were a talkative one; and impulsive too, you seemed to have no switch off button.

"–what's your cats' names?"

minho blinks in surprise at your abrupt question, but he finds himself answering under the attention of your big eyes that stared up at him innocently.

"soonie, doongie and dori…"

you gasp, slapping a hand up to your mouth, surprising him again.

"you have three cats?! oh my god you're so lucky! you see, i love cats even though i'm allergic to them but my mom won't let me have one because she says it's too much work to look after a cat."

your voice grew sad at the end but almost immediately you smiled up at him leaving him more confused than ever.

you were weird, but endearingly so.

clearing his throat, minho speaks, "good day then."

although you do wave to him, he can't help but notice your appealing eyes that follow him as he opens his door making him feel ridiculously conscious of his every move.

it's only after he's closed his door does he realise that he never really asked how you had fallen to have gotten hurt so badly; you never really gave him a chance to speak.

but whatever you may say, that fall must have been interesting

ii.

"hello mr. lee, are you going for a workout?"

minho blinked at you in surprise when you popped out of nowhere, again in your school uniform and with a fresh bruise on your face.

"no," he says shortly, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder before walking briskly. he had no intentions of engaging in a conversation with a high schooler at six in the morning.

"oh, you're dressed up in sweats though," you point out, happily skipping beside him.

oh god no, please he really doesn't want to talk right now.

"i'm a dance major."

your lips form a circle of surprise, eyes brightening up at the mention of dance and minho was somehow left feeling drained at the amount of cheeriness you were displaying at the crack of dawn.

"you're a dancer?! that's so cool mr. lee! what type of dance do you usually do? or do they teach you all types in uni? oh oh! did you start dancing at a young age? what's your favorite type of–"

please someone, anyone out there, please save him from this bouncing ball of excitement beside him.

he took his time answering your questions, and you grew considerably excited as he kept talking, albeit uninterestedly and with a lot of sighs whenever you interrupted him, but nonetheless he let you interrogate him till you reached the bus stop.

"wow mr. lee, you must have so much fun right?"

minho had no answer to your excited rhetoric, instead dwindling upon how he in fact, did not find this rigourous lifestyle fun at all and though he had a lot to vent about on the matter, he decided to keep his mouth shut in your cheerful presence. besides, what would a high schooler know? you were still wet behind the ears, and probably regarded him as a cool person due to your obliviousness of what university life actually was.

his gaze rests on the newly forming bruise under your eye just for a moment before looking away lest you catch him staring at you.

"fell again?" he asks nonchalantly, bringing his finger up to the spot on his face where you had gotten hurt.

"i can be very clumsy sometimes." you chuckle abashedly, gingerly touching your face and shrugging, "oh, here's my bus; have a good day mr. lee!"

minho is no idiot; he may be oblivious to a lot of things around him, but he is not an idiot. and he is positive that no matter how tired he is every night, his mind could not have conjured up the muffled sounds of yelling from next door. at least not three nights in a row, and the bruises on your face could not have been a result of falling down.

he finds himself returning your wave from the bus and watches the bus till it disappears round the corner.

iii.

this was bad.

whatever was happening next door was bad and it left a bitter taste on minho's tongue.

not only had he heard the worst yells from your apartment three days ago, but he had completely missed you on your way to school, that is, if you had gone to school. the radio silence that had followed had not made things any less ominous.

in the course of those three days he had considered paying you a visit, and had even found himself almost on the verge of ringing your doorbell but at the last moment retracted his fist ready to knock and walked away slowly back to his apartment.

what would he even say? how would he explain his visit?

whatever, it wasn't his business. and clearly, he wasn't supposed to mind either, since you did tell him that your bruises were due to falling, and not…

and not what, idiot? he berates himself, massaging the migraine he had been trying to nurse for the past few hours. if it was indeed what he suspected it was, he was doubtful he could be much help if you refused to make it an issue. besides, he didn't like getting all up in other people's business.

but what was he supposed to do when you turn up with new bruises, the old ones underneath healing?

"hello mr. lee, out to throw trash?"

for a moment minho debates whether he should bring up the darkened patch of skin on your arm, but he resists when he sees you smiling at him, a little less happily than usual and your tired eyes blinking at him almost expectantly.

"what else?" he shakes the black trash bag in his hands, taking out the plastic bottles and crushing them before tossing them into the right bin.

you grin at him, joining him with your own bag of trash, the sound of crushing bottles and crinkling plastics filling in the emptiness that your mutual silence had offered.

for minho it was disconcerting to say the least, not hearing you babble away or question him as you so often did. he tried talking once or twice, always opening his mouth and glancing at you. but you never looked back at him, so seemingly engaged in the important task of discarding trash. he was almost surprised at his lack of words, realising a little late that it was mostly you who did the talking and he'd listen.

you finished before him, rubbing your hands and patting them on the back of your jeans.

"goodnight then mr. lee, i'll see you around." you smile at him, dragging your feet across the pavement as if hesitating to leave. a sudden wave of emotion washes over minho who notices the way you stub your toe on the ground, fiddling with your hands and rubbing your shoulder.

you turn around with some effort, a dread settling at the pit of your stomach that weighs down on you with every step you take and the closer you are to your house. it's then that he calls out, making you stop and turn in your tracks, looking back at him expectantly and almost hoping that you wouldn't have to go home just yet.

there's too much minho wants to say right, too many questions that sit on the tip of his tongue in a tangle but are held back by hesitant chains at the back of his throat.

"you okay kid?"

a split second of vulnerability slashes through you, threatening to break you apart and you almost tear up.

bringing yourself to talk in this state would be a mistake, one that would make minho liable and you did not want that.

you nod at him, attempting a weak smile that you hope is excusable, albeit pretentious.

with that your back is again turned to him and you walk away leaving minho clutching on to the black plastic bag in his hand.

iv.

minho found you sitting again in front of the door, except this time it was the door to his house.

you're crouched against the wall, knees pulled up to your chin and rocking back and forth gently, cradling a small ginger cat he came to realise was his own.

when you see him you instantly brighten up, but minho is far from happy to see you. it's not your presence he's displeased at exactly, it's the way his eyes are drawn to the cuff of your school shirt, the red stain on it quite obviously from the fresh cut on your lips.

"mr. lee, you're back! i found this cute little thing outside when i came home, it was scratching on my door," you laugh, nuzzling your nose into the cat's fur eliciting a purr of approval, "i thought i might just keep it company in case something happened."

seemingly avoiding your words, minho steps forward and swipes his thumb across your lips gingerly, a frown on his face.

surprised you step back, sputtering in bewilderment and clutching on to the cat in your hands almost like a shield.

"come in," he says shortly and without waiting for a response he stalks into his home and heads straight to the washroom, leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway.

the cat jumps out of your arms, and you close the door behind you, debating whether you should shut it in the first place or not.

minho returns shortly, a box of first aid in his hands and another cat in tow.

"aren't you going to come in?" he questions, although it is anything but that because you're left with no choice but to follow him into the living room where he motions for you to sit on the couch. you do so, removing the bag from your shoulder and folding your hands on your lap.

sitting in front of you, minho begins to unravel the contents of the box one by one, uncapping the lid of the antiseptic before putting some on a cotton ball and dabbing at your lips.

you don't flinch away this time but you do hiss in pain, blinking your eyes furiously to keep the inadvertent tears pricking your eyes like the burn on your lips, fingers knotting around each other and steadily avoiding his face that was so close to yours.

you could vividly smell his body scent, a mix of sweat and a subtle deodorant, the kind that was gentle to the nose; the two were so distinctly separated from each other yet still blended in a comfortable scent that you felt like you could inhale for days on end, unlike the strong stench of cheap knock off perfumes your mother mother drenched herself in so often, it made you want to throw up.

"you've been falling too often these days kid, are you sure you're okay?"

if you didn't know any better you would have thought that minho was teasing you, but you knew that was not the case. minho was very smart, so you had perceived from whatever conversation he had contributed to, but he was also a no nonsense person, which you had been thankful for because he had his subtle way of showing his concern without being overbearing about it.

somehow you had always been comforted by that knowledge, that he was quietly watching over you.

"that's because i'm too clumsy."

your answer remains the same as ever; this time muttered quietly and without an abashed grin. they hold much more weight in them, more than ever, and your eyes that fail to meet his and the downturn of your lips that refuse to move despite your half hearted attempts are self sufficient in breaking away your facetiousness.

minho stays quiet, mostly because he's calculating the next words in his mind but also because you make no attempt at moving away, sitting still like a piece of wood, eyes steadily focused on your hands that remained atop each other in your lap.

he is saved of saying much though because you both hear a loud crash from next door.

your head snaps towards the source of the sound and you're visibly scared, snatching up your bag from the floor and almost tripping in air trying to get to the door as quick as possible.

minho is still processing everything, his hands shooting out to hold you back and his heart almost clenching when you turn to him with your shaking eyes. your mouth quivered and your fingers were clenched around the strap of your bag so tightly, he could see your knuckles whitening.

"you don't have to go," he says, his words followed by a muffled shout and another thump.

you're frozen to your spot, torn in between wrenching yourself free and rushing home and throwing your arms around this kind neighbour. the only neighbour who had talked to you.

save me, you yelled, but all that came out was a shake of your head and a wobbly smile that made your eyes tear up again.

"i should go, my mom...she needs me."

you gulp, shifting your eyes nervously to his fingers that circled around your wrist firmly but gently, and a part of you hoped he would let go.

minho nods understandingly, never quite loosening his grip around your wrist and says quietly, "i suppose she does need you."

raising his hand cautiously he wipes away the tear running down your cheek and you're ashamed at having shed tears in the first place; it's incomprehensible to you and embarrasses you but you're temporarily shocked at how gently he was touching your cheeks, hands lingering there longer than you had ever known and without the sting that always followed.

"if you… fall again, i'll be right here."

you nod in earnest at his offer and minho realises that's the extent of help you were willing to let him offer.

epilogue

it's been two months since minho had last seen you. you had been standing in his small living room, scared and shaking.

the noises next door had quietened down and he no longer opened his door in the morning to your smiling face full of small bruises. he knows it has something to do with the call he had put through that night.

he was sorry to see you go without so much as a goodbye because quite frankly, things had happened so quickly he had never gotten the time to see you off. he was sorry he had put you through that, but it had to be done.

he had returned home that evening to his cat nibbling on a piece of paper, which looked like it had been torn off hastily from a notebook and had snatched it before further damage was done to it, earning a loud purr of disapproval from his cat.

he had kept it safe inside his wallet since that day.

every night before opening the door to his house he would gaze at yours, wondering what was behind the greying door. then he would take the garbage out and would almost be disappointed that you weren't already there realising with a jolt that you no longer lived here.

the first three weeks had been the same, but he had come to accept it, for your betterment. he did the right thing, you were safe now.

and yet it saddened him a little when he walked to the bus stop alone. he had come to be tolerably affectionate of your banters and quirks and the way you had a penchant for tripping over your untied laces.

tonight he was running a little late, having visited the supermarket to stock up his groceries and cat food.

both hands weighed down by plastic bags, he huffed his way across the street walking briskly to his apartment; his cats would no doubt look at him reproachfully for the late dinner.

finally reaching his doorstep he almost dumps the bags on the ground, shuffling in his bag for the key and cursing under his breath. he doesn't even spare a glance at your door anymore.

finding his key, he shoves it into the lock and curses more when it takes some effort to turn it open, the lighting in the hallway quite inefficient in its purposes. it's only when he finally opens the door and picks up the bags does he see you.

you smile at him widely.

"hello mr. lee, how've you been?"

he stands at his doorstep, hands laden with heavy plastic bags, sweating with all the exertion and smiling down at you.

minho's cats purr at him in annoyance and he's reminded he has three mouths to feed, but he can't help the smile on his face. after what seems like an eternity, he speaks.

"hey kid, you okay?"

you consider his question for a while, looking into his kind eyes and stepping towards him, chuckling when his cats make another reproaching noise. you catch a whiff of his scent, his sweat and deodorant then nod at him happily.

#stray kids imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #stray kids minho imagines #lee know stray kids imagines #stray kids lee know imagines #minho stray kids imagines #stray kids x you #stray kids angst

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internalsealpanic · 2 years

Text

Contrition

summary: Dick tells Bruce he's a grandfather. It goes swell. a/n: This part (part 2 two Convalescence )was made primarily because I did not have the heart to throw away the conversation I wrote for Reader and Bruce in my original draft of the fic. Clark being in this fic is also just me wanting to write Clark warnings: Everyone is a little shit, emotional conversations, very self-indulgent on my part.

"Clark."

Clark rubs his face, groaning at himself for answering. "Bruce, it's—" he squints at the clock— "It's 2—" he checks again and regrets it immediately— "2:38. AM. Is it an emergency?"

Bruce goes quiet. The normally steady beat of Bruce's heart ratchet's up and so does Clark's. He's off the bed, floating and readying himself to zip to wherever the emergency is. Clark's nerves fray as Bruce struggles with his words. The worst possibilities flit through his mind.

"I'm—" Bruce's breath comes out harsh— "I have a grandchild."

Clark slowly lowers himself back onto the bed; he feels a little disoriented as the loud rush of blood in his ears dies down. "Congratulations," because that was the right thing to say but Bruce's pulse was still up to an 11.

"What do I do?"

Clark looks at the clock wearily, his few hours of sleep waning away with every syllable. This really is a conversation he's having at 2 in the morning. He can't exactly hang up on Bruce, not because the man owns the paper he works for but because Bruce is gonna keep calling people until he gets terrible advice. "Have you tried asking Alfred?"

"He laughed."

Clark pinches the bridge of his nose. "And you think I wouldn't do the same?"

"Why do you think I called you at 2 AM?" Bruce says, a grin creeping into his voice.

Clark suddenly remembers that no matter how old they get, Bruce Wayne is a little shit. There is a vein in Clark's forehead that is threatening to burst. Beside him, Lois stirs, rubbing the sleep out of her narrowed eyes. Clark kisses her forehead apologetically. She rolls her eyes and motions for him to put Bruce on speaker. Clark chuffs but does it anyway.

"It shouldn't be too different from having kids, right?" Clark says, wrapping an arm around Lois.

"How would I know?" Clark's forehead creases with the real irritation bleeding into Bruce's normally flat tone. "Clark, am I on speaker? I can hear Lois trying not to laugh."

Clark glances at Lois whose face is buried in his shoulder. "Sort of."

"Clark."

Lois grabs the phone. "Brucie, you forfeited your right to privacy the moment you decided to call at 2 AM."

Bruce replies to this by grunting.

"So off the record," Clark glances pointedly at Lois who holds her hands up innocently," who's the new parent?"

There's a long enough pause that Clark considers hanging up.

"Dick."

This time there's a long pause from Clark's end which is abruptly cut off by a string of not-curse-words from Clark and whispered cheers from Lois.

"What was that?"

"Sorry, I just signed myself up for two months of dishes," Clarks says rubbing his face.

"Did you just bet on my children?" There's no anger in the words, just abject confusion.

"Yes but tell Dick congratulations for us... You did congratulate him, right?"

"Sure."

"Bruce."

Bruce sighs. "He called me and I reacted by hanging up."

"You what?!"

Lois is full-on laughing at this point.

"Bruce, you hung up on Dick when he was trying to tell you he has a kid," Clark says slowly.

"Clark, this wasn't an infant. The kid looked 3."

Clark takes a moment to let the information settle and now he understood the apprehension in Bruce's voice. All Clark could say was "you didn't think to lead with this?"

"Sorry let me start this conversation over. Hello Clark, my boy has a 3-year-old child after being a childless bachelor the last time I saw him. Does that work better?"

"It sounds like a terrible headline," Lois pipes up.

Clark hums in agreement. "I would probably save that for the body paragraphs."

"I'm being serious, you assholes."

Clark heaves a breath and rubs his face again. "You have talked to Dick again after that."

"No."

"Bruce."

"I know. But I don't know what to do."

"Talk to him? Check on him?"

Why was this so hard?

This isn't rocket science.

"It's not that simple," Bruce chuffs.

Clark draws in another breath. Rocket science. Bruce can do rocket science but broaching emotional subjects is objectively hard for a man who has more than 5 kids. "We are going to Bludhaven," Clark grunts, shoving socks on his feet, careful not to tear them because darn it Bruce.

"Clark, no."

"Get dressed, I'll be there in," Clark looks at his phone, "a couple of minutes." He shoves a sweater on, not even mildly concerned about the fact that he might have put it on the wrong way. He did but Lois isn't going to tell him that. He'll figure it out eventually.

"It's 3 in the morning."

Clark pauses, very close to lasering his own phone. He pushes the urge down, settling for shooting back a quick "I'm sure he's awake." Dick won't be happy but Clark thinks he can handle a grumpy Dick. Not the first time.

The lines of your vision are starting to blur, still, you keep them on the steady rise and fall of August's chest. Your own chest feels tight. It's probably the only thing keeping you awake. The flashcards for your presentation today lay forgotten on your lap as you sing to August, melody quiet and almost imperceptible against the droning of machines around you.

"Are you really singing Black Parade in a hospital?" Dick chuckles, handing you a much-needed cup of coffee.

You accept it gratefully, smiling at the steam rising from the cup and avoiding his eyes. You've already seen the bruising under his eyes and the guilt bubbles up under your skin. "What else do you want me to sing?" you laugh tiredly, rubbing your hand over August's chest, feeling the slow beat of his heart, desperately trying to push down the feeling of being overwhelmed by Dick. This wasn't the right time for it. August needs you to be ok today.

This isn't made easier by Dick sitting next to you, his warm comforting presence lulling you. The tiredness seeping in through the cracks, your shoulders slump. You feel like crying. You just want to hold August and make him feel better. You just want him to be ok. You wish you could make him be ok. You wish you didn't need to rely on Dick so much. You wish you could just stay awake.

There's a hand on your shoulder and when you look up you're met with Dick's concerned face and your heart drops to the floor.

"Hey," the word is soft and you have no idea how Dick is allowed to put you at ease with just one word. Dick doesn't even say it a particular way. It's just his 'hey' and the world feels mildly more alright than it is. "You look like you're gonna keel over."

You set the coffee on the table, your flashcards spilling to the floor. 'I'm fine' would just make Dick frown at you. 'Don't worry about it' will inevitably lead to an argument. 'Please don't' is what you want to say but that's a bad idea on multiple levels and you're not emotionally, mentally, or physically equipped to deal with the fallout of making Dick more worried than necessary. Instead, you lay your head on his shoulder and try not to sob.

Dick wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer and planting a kiss on your forehead. "Doc said he was gonna be ok," he says, squeezing your shoulder. "Says the My Chemical Romance songs helped."

You sniffle, slapping his thigh half-heartedly. "Did you check if he was actually a Doctor?"

"Pretty sure," Dick hums, resting his head against yours. "Think his name was Dr. Sexy."

Your constricted throat lets out a wheeze of a laugh. Pressing your face into Dick's neck, you try to muffle hysterical laughter. Dick's ears turn pink but he focuses on laughing into your hair. The joy and relief of laughter blankets the room, easily rising over the drone of the machines around you.

In the bed, August stirs, his little body shifting under the sheets. Your breath stutters as he moans, face squishing into the pillow. He flails his hand as if to tell you to be quiet. A hush falls over the both of you and once again the room only has room for the beeping of machines.

When August is once again on his back, you let yourselves breathe out loud. Dick squeezes your shoulder and smiles at you. In a low voice, he says, "Go home. I can take care of him."

You freeze. "Dick," you chew on your thoughts before pushing out the rest of your sentence. "I can't. I have to—"

"Rest, so you can prepare to rock that presentation," he says squeezing your hand. He brushes strands of your hair out of your face. "We're ok here. Promise. I'll call you if something happens. Just... just get some shut-eye, yeah?"

You sigh for the hundreth time that night. "I owe you."

"I take cash."

"Do you prefer stripper dollars?"

"No, but I will take Smart Cow coupons."

You snort. "Oh, of course."

"Ok, so I love you guys but why are you here?" Dick sighs, unconsciously pulling the bundle of blankets in his arms closer to his chest. In Dick's living room, Bruce and Clark are calmly sitting on the couch like functional humans (previous evidence points to the contrary) while in his kitchen, Duke, Damian, and Jason are all mixing different concoctions and with the pantry wide open, Dick can only guess what unholy abominations they're all cooking up.

August whines softly, burrowing deeper into the blanket, feeling cold from the hall. Dick shuts the door quickly and softly.

"Hi to you too, Dickweed," Jason says around a mouthful of brioche.

Dick debates on whether he actually needs to cover August's ears for that one probably not but it doesn't hurt to be cautious. "Hi. Now, answer my question."

They all share a look and the first to pipe up is Bruce. "You called."

Dick rattles his brain to try and remember when he called and what for.

"To tell Bruce about August," Clark adds helpfully.

Duke squints at Dick. "You told him via call? Wouldn't it be better to see his shocked expression in person?"

Bruce flings Duke a look which, through years of hard work (aka asking Dick), Clark roughly translates as 'whose side are you on'. Duke grins and shrugs.

"I can't screenshot Bruce's face in real life."

"Photos are a thing, Richard."

Dick rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on August. "Yeah well, I can't hang up on him in real life."

“He does it to Commish a lot . I think you've noticed."

Jason has a fair point but that is once again too much effort and that still doesn't answer why all of them are there. He gets Clark. Bruce wouldn't be here looking like an Irish Setter otherwise but what are the other three doing here? "Don't you have school," is the first thing he asks because he apparently doesn't look like enough of a dad already.

His siblings are nonplussed by this, more annoyed honestly, but Bruce and Clark look like a torpedo just launched out of his chest cavity.

"We heard about Father's trip here."

"Squirt here was worried," Jason adds, ruffling Damian's hair. The kid looks like he's gonna tear Jason limb from limb and it occurs to Dick that maybe Damian and August will either get along swimmingly or murder each other.

It warmed Dick's heart but he had to school his features back into his best Alfred impression he could pull off. "That doesn’t explain why you all came," he says, snuggling August further into his arms.

Bruce sighs, "I honestly don't know."

Clark elbows him then turns that very Midwestern smile on Dick. "Bruce wanted to meet August."

"And I was listening in on B's calls," Jason admits.

Dick opens his mouth but Jason supplies, sweeping his hand over to Damian and Duke, "then I kidnapped these two from school."

Damian huffs imperiously. "What Todd means is that Duke and I demanded to come with him and he obliged."

Under duress, Dick thinks but still, he smiles at them. "Ah ok, but August is a little sick so he might not be up to really talking," Dick says walking over to the living room. August isn't heavy per se but he's not keen on stressing out his muscles more than strictly necessary.

"That's fine," Damian crosses his arms. "Children that age often have nothing intelligent to say."

August chuffs in protest.

Duke laughs. "I'm not convinced you were ever that small."

Damian refuses to dignify that statement. Instead, he looks over August and raises a brow. "Richard, have you given him some medication?"

Dick tries not to be offended. "The hospital gave him some. Doc just said he needed rest," he says, flopping down beside Bruce who still looks like he's been drained of blood.

August looks so soft swaddled in the blanket. It makes Bruce's heart hurt and lets him ignore the fact that it is actually a Green Arrow blanket. Dick eagerly awaits for him to notice.

Bruce's movements are stiff and awkward as he reaches to touch August. You would think Bruce was reaching for a bomb. Brushing August's hair away from his face, Bruce can say with absolute certainty that the resemblance is undeniable. His mind floods with memories of Dick as a child and how small he'd been when he first came to the Manor. It strikes him again that Dick is an adult now and with a child and the feeling of vertigo hits him again.

August's face is crunched and annoyed. He turns away, ducking into Dick's chest.

Dick chuckles. "He's grumpy when he's tired."

"Bruce is like that too," Clark says, earning a scowl from Bruce.

Dick laughs softly and presses August into his chest tighter. "He’ll be ok by morning, well, he’ll be a lot better." Dick debates on whether to warn them about August's forwardness.

"He looks just like you," Bruce says stupidly.

A loud snort erupts from the kitchen.

"That is how genetics works, Bruce," Clark says with a voice that sounds a little amused. Bruce snaps his mouth shut before he can say anything August will remember.

Dick shrugs. "I dunno, he looks a lot like his mom to me." He brushes his knuckle against August's cheek, looking down fondly at the boy.

Bruce bristles remembering why he had so many reservations about coming here. He didn't exactly have kind words for you.

"There is a mother," Damian says incredulously, opening his palm and waving it at Jason.

Jason hands over a five begrudgingly. "Are you sure he isn't a clone or an impostor?"

"He isn't," Dick scowls then the expression immediately slides into being sheepish, "I checked."

Clark looked at him mortified.

"He's kidding," Duke assures. Bruce, Damian, and Jason look doubtful, forcing Duke and Clark to turn to Dick. Dick is not helpful when he tosses them an innocent smile. "You are kidding, right?"

"I did one test," Dick says quickly. Clark buries his face in his hands. They dissolve into a debate on which test was best suited to trying to determine whether August was evil which in turn resulted in Jason and Damian being convinced that the kid is in fact evil but evil in the way Dick is.

Stumbling out of the cab, you nearly slip on the sidewalk, clucking your tongue as you right yourself. All you want to do is chuck your heels at someone, specifically the board reviewing your thesis, but scooping August up into your arms and peppering your face with kisses sounds much more appealing.

The elevator ride is awful.

The click of your heel is as endless as the ride.

At some point, you take your heels off and stuff them in your bag. Your foot continues to tap against the metal, head falling as you press your back against the wall. A different kind of nervousness settles into your bones. You're not blind. You've noticed how Dick has been looking at you and how his jokes have become flirtier and it scares you. Biting your lip, you draw in your breath. You've thought about it. You brush your hair back and feel your stomach flip. It's all too much. Dick has always been overwhelming but the fact that he can look at you like that after what you did— Damn it, Dick.

You fish the spare key out of your coat. Dick had the audacity to give you the Nightwing design but you partnered it with a Flash keychain just to be petty. It is extremely petty but fuck it.

The door is unlocked.

Your stomach drops.

What if they're in danger?

You push the door in quietly, your breath frozen in your chest. The knot in your stomach tightens the release when you hear laughter and bickering but then the knot tightens into a choke hold when you see the people in the living room.

An itch ripples all over your skin, and the oxygen in your lungs burns up and snuffs out.

Suffocating.

That's the word. You're suffocating as the room shifts their focus from August to you. You feel the pressure bear down on you and you feel like you're going to fall through the floor and land straight down to the basement of the building.

"Hi," you choke out, repressing the urge to slam the door shut.

Bruce is giving you that cold look and the urge returns with a vengeance. The only things that keep you in the room are Dick's smile and the little whine August gives.

You answer mechanically to whatever questions they have as you stumble towards the kitchen.

You can feel Bruce bearing down on you as he walks up behind you.

"How are you?" You ask, desperately keeping your hand steady as you add another spoonful of chocolate powder. You don't dare look at Bruce even as he settles next to you.

"Good."

You sigh inwardly; wrenching your gaze from the countertop, you glance at the glass of the cabinets. "It looks like everyone's excited to meet August."

Silence.

"Dick's contending for dad of the year and I think—"

"How old is August?"

Your hands shake but you try to answer with as even a voice as possible. "5 as of 3 months ago."

The anger is palpable from Bruce and you feel yourself shrinking as it grows in intensity. You look at the space where Dick should be to calm yourself down. It works and you hate that it works.

"5 years."

4, you want so desperately to clarify. You don’t, so you and Bruce continue to stew in silence. You tilt your head to look over at Dick. Dick mouths 'help me' from across the room. You raise your thermos to him and mouth 'suffer', the corner of your lip curling sharply. Pouting, Dick mouths 'I hate you' but his eyes say something else entirely. The look that passes between the two of you is familiar. It's cast in the same shape as the puppy looks you gave each other when you were younger but something has shifted. The bedrock of that new look is something else entirely.

Bruce pauses.

He knows that look and knows it well.

Your tunnel vision widens to the tangled crowd of batbrats (plus Superman) fussing over the bundle of blankets laying next to Dick. You smile as August wraps his arms around Dick, face half-buried in his dad's stomach. You're sure it's the hot cocoa that's warm in your stomach.

Even the large wall named Clark Kent doesn’t stop you from staring so fondly at the space and Bruce is forced to concede. The turmoil in his gut, still acrid but low enough to look at this objectively. "One of us can watch over him while you two go on a date. I don't advise leaving him with Jason... or Tim... or Cass... I'll ask Alfred if he'll help me with babysitting."

Your heartbeat stops and the blood in your veins turns sluggish and cold and deeply uncomfortable. "Me and Dick..." Putting yourself in the same sentence felt wrong. "We—" This feels like an even worse substitute. "Mr.–" Bruce frowns so you walk yourself back. "Bruce, I think you misread... Dick hasn't..." Hasn't what? You shut up because you can't seem to think of a coherent sentence.

You wet your lips. This isn't hard. There's a good reason you never made a move. There isn't a move to be made. "We're just getting to know each other all over again and... and I don't know if I'm—" You stop once again, a rush of words plugged up by the heart-clogging your throat. You put your hand over your mouth. The unnamable insecurities lingering in your throat are barbed. You try to swallow them down to make room for facts. You start slow, words coming as a drip. "Dick gives as good as he gets. Maybe he gives a little too much." Your eyes fall down to your hands, looking at the lines and calluses. "I'm... Bruce, I'm not it. I'm not what he needs and I don't—" You breathe, feeling your eyes sting. You can't bear to look at Bruce because you know he of all people can see that.

A choked laugh bubbles up next to you. You're honestly not sure you can call it a laugh. It's more like a wet bark. You hazard a lookup and see Bruce politely trying to hold in laughter. You have no idea whether being offended is appropriate or if you should search for another emotion.

"You two are a match made in hell," Bruce says, finally managing to control the barking.

"Sorry?" This is not the correct reply but it was a hell of a lot better than just staring at Bruce goggle-eyed.

Bruce shakes his head, trying to school himself. "You know he still loves you, don’t you?"

You flinch.

That was not the reaction Bruce was hoping for.

Most of his amusement fades away. "I don’t think he’s ever stopped loving you…" He says, eye-sliding over to Dick who is trying his level best to fend off the chicken soup from hell that Damian made.

You let out a soft, tired laugh. You're pretty sure that it would be like Dick to keep loving someone even if they were a complete shit bag like you. "He really is stupid that way, huh?”

"Sometimes. It—he was learning and he made mistakes... Some of them my fault—I put him under pressure." Bruce rubs the back of his neck and has this look on his face that is too reminiscent of Dick and it makes your heart hurt.

You know what Bruce is thinking. He must think you're still mad at Dick. He's trying to mollify you and it stings. You push against the countertop, pivoting to face Bruce because you need to make this point crystal clear.

"Bruce. I've forgiven Dick a while ago even before bumping into him and..." You had a point but it's hard to keep it when it's so tethered to this nebulous feeling of being angry and when the feeling just slips away when Bruce gives you that earnest look. The feeling of irritation you felt suddenly feels misplaced. "Bruce," you try again. "I know he loves me and that's the problem."

Bruce gives you the most confused look in existence.

You rub your hand over your face. "That's just it. I don't know if he loves me just because of August." Instinctively, you grip your wrist. "I don't want him to love me because it's good for someone else."

Bruce frowns. "Is that what you think?"

You force yourself to breathe because the answer on your tongue is so hard to put into actual words.

What else is there, you think.

When you look up again, Bruce looks like he just aged twenty years. You wince, wanting to apologize but it's still too hard to breathe, so you save the oxygen and let him speak.

Bruce flat out refuses to believe that he is actually the emotionally intelligent one in this conversation. This is not what is happening.

"You think Dick," Bruce pauses trying to think of how to articulate this, "you think Dick is in love with you because you think he has to?"

The way your head drops is answer enough.

He will one day laugh about this.

"Dick isn't an idiot."

"He isn't," you agree, "but he leaves his heart out for people to pick at. We both know he's not good at emotional insolation and this is the kind of crap he would do."

You're not entirely wrong. Bruce rubs his temple and he distinctly remembers having a conversation with Dick about how you were bound to figure out his secret identity a long while ago. You're too sharp and too dull at once.

"Do you still love him?"

Every angle in your body sharpens, looking ready to stab Bruce if he says anything else. Your shoulders rear up and it takes so much in you not to scream at Bruce. "Of course, I do."

"Is it because of August?"

"Bruce, not falling and staying in love with Dick Fucking Grayson is so much harder than resisting gravity. And no, I don't love him because we have a kid together. I could set the world on fire for that kid but—" Your breath hitches and you feel your eyes prickle. Your vision is murky and fuck, you hope you weren't shouting.

A warm hand rests on your shoulder. You push it away half-heartedly. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't budge. You rub your eyes. "That's a dirty trick."

Bruce squeezes your shoulder. "It worked."

"Just because I feel that way doesn't mean Dick does."

Bruce huffs. "What if he does? Give it a chance."

"I'm scared," you admit, voice hoarse and fragile like breaking glass. "Bruce, I can't be good enough for him or August. I can't. I'm not."

Bruce sighs again for what seems like the hundredth time in this entire conversation. You can't blame him. You're not even paying for this therapy session. Neither of you is drunk enough for this conversation.

You make a mental note not to get buzzed in front of Bruce next time.

You're glad for Bruce's ability to just exist in a room for once. You don't need him to fill in the silence, wanting it to be as loud as it can while you try to ignore the tears that are springing up in your eyes.

You pivot away from him and this time his hand simply falls away.

"You're not a horrible person. You're better than you think you are."

You tip the thermos against your lip. "Should he really be settling for mediocre?"

"Have you tried to call yourself mediocre in front of him?"

You smile up at Bruce. "I'm really fond of not having my head bitten off, thanks."

Bruce quirks his mouth and you want to punch him because you don't know whether his similarities to Dick are intentional. It's funny how people can be so similar even when they're not related. The bitterness from your smile slips a little when you think of how Dick's habits are starting to creep into August's.

That stupid quirk of his lip for example.

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

Bruce's hand is on your shoulder again and this time, it's gentle and barely there and good lord, this man wants you to rip him an entirely new asshole.

You stagger that feeling and place a hand over Bruce's.

"You trust Dick, so trust that he knows what he feels," Bruce says, squeezing your shoulder. You squeeze back but still you're not entirely convinced. Bruce knows it'll take time and knows that there is a real possibility that you'll hurt Dick again. Not the same way as before but something.

Bruce pats your back, feeling a little awkward now that the emotions are beginning to plateau. "Were you really never planning to introduce them?"

You laugh breathlessly, scrubbing the heel of your hand against your cheek. "Listen, I have no clue what Dick has told you about my social skills but I'm the kind of person who would rather not show up to a lecture than show up late." Straightening up, you stretch and shake, trying to slough off the excess energy living under your skin. You cup your hands on the curve of your neck and look straight at the crowd again, not willing to let Bruce see the puffiness of your eyes. "I tried once... During my pregnancy, I tried to tell Dick and... that resulted in me slamming my smart phone like it was a land line." The laughter that trails the sentence is flushed and you kind of wish you hadn't said anything.

"I can't tell if you're joking."

You want the ground to swallow you. "I wish I was. I had to ask my folks to lend me money for a new one." You angle your body away a little more, knowing outright stepping away is too obvious. "It... wasn’t my proudest moment."

Bruce crosses his arms. "Which part? The new phone or not telling Dick?" The archness of the statement was unintended.

"Both?"

The nervousness is obvious in your voice. Bruce has to play at damage control before anyone notices and by anyone he means Dick. The obvious wince Clark does makes it pretty obvious that he heard some of the conversation. "You haven't told Dick about it, have you?"

"I'd rather die than give him another karaoke incident," you say, turning to him, posture a lot less braced.

Bruce and Clark's shoulders both fall with relief. "How did you run into each other?"

"Well..." Your hand is on your wrist again but your smile is wry. A fond memory then. "August and I were in the grocery store because I bought the wrong flavor of frosted flakes and Dick was kind of there looking at the gross healthy cereal." Your nose scrunches but still, your eyes are crinkled and your mouth is quirked. Bruce nods and when he turns to ask his next question, you're already piecing together your answer. "He did not vault over the shelves." This garners a soft snort from Bruce. You look up to the ceiling, your chest feeling oddly loose. "He kind of went into autopilot as soon as he saw August. I think he was trying to analyze the kid to see if he was an alien. August hated that. The kid doesn't like being stared at.” Bruce hums in contemplation. “Unlike me, he’ll bark at you to quit it,” you laugh, the volume rises a little and the sound finds its way to Dick’s ears, snapping his attention towards you.

Dick leans and gets suspicious as soon as Clark starts actively trying to block his view. He narrows his eyes at Clark who moves his shoulders in a vaguely apologetic gesture. Dick's heart drops to the floor, noticing for the first time that Bruce wasn't there.

Shit.

Dick hooks his hand underneath August's arms, pulling the kid up to rest his head on his chest. August whines and thumps at his chest weakly but in a matter of seconds, he's asleep again. Carefully, he tugs him off and hands him to a very reluctant Clark.

"Did I miss anything?" Dick asks, his hands on his hips. You and Bruce share a look. Your head drops but there is a shared laughter which is frankly concerning in Dick's opinion.

Bruce looks between the two of you and after a moment, he pushes off the island, brushing past the accusatory look Dick gives him. He makes his way to the couch to make sure Jason hasn't imparted his wisdom yet. Clark wastes no time handing August off to Bruce who is frankly terrified the moment the sick five-year-old's body feels too light in his arms. Duke gently reminds him that August is a normal-sized child and Bruce is a mammoth of a man.

"You ok?" Dick asks, settling next to you, rocking on his heel unsure of how much space you needed.

You answer by leaning into his space, letting out a shaky breath. "Bruce does not get any less terrifying does he," you say, running a hand over your face.

Dick chuckles. "I'm gonna level with you I'm not a good judge of that," he says, testing his luck with how much space he can take up. You don't pull away and his heart flutters.

You laugh softly. "Because he's protective of you. Imagine being on the other end of that."

Dick blinks, looking adorably confused. "He gave you the talk?"

"No... sort of... He gave me a talk and it gave me a lot to think about."

Dick's organs pool beneath his feet and he turns to you. "Whatever Bruce said—"

"I want to make it work."

Dick falls silent. The pages of prepared responses collapse into a heap. The pieces are all indiscernible and Dick highly doubts that he can form a response from the rubble left behind.

You turn to face him fully, fists clenching and unclenching. "Not just co-parenting but ... us. I want to... what I mean to say is..." Your eyes snap shut and you take a breath to keep the oncoming panic attack from flooding in.

He takes your hand in his and cups your face with his other hand. Dick feels overwhelmed and thrown off balance but it's not unpleasant. It's the feeling you get after releasing your fist after clenching it too hard. His chest fills with more hope than he's allowed himself over the last few months. "We should go out sometime?" He tries, stroking your cheek.

Your eyes flutter open, letting yourself see his eyes. "Ah, yeah. That would be nice." You kick yourself for such a smooth reply while Dick kicks himself for such a debonair way of asking you out. This all occurs while the crowd on the couch watches on.

"They're so dumb," August wheezes quietly into Bruce's chest.

#dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #batfam imagine #dick grayson x reader #dc x reader #bruce wayne #clark kent

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lindwyrmrelinquished · 8 months

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Asking about your aus. Laying on my stomach with my face in my hands and kicking my feet in the air

HELLO HI BRAVO I AM LAYING ON MY STOMACH AND KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR AND HOLDING MY NOTEBOOK TO READ OUT THE NOTES TO YOU

(i had this saved as a draft and. then forgot about it. i am so sorry)

Okay so I've already rambled about the Zoroakari AU so I'm gonna tell you about the Hybrid Ingo+Emmet AU i made with my brother

So thanks to Rift Shenanigans™, Ingo comes back from Hisui a Sneasler hybrid and Emmet a Joltik hybrid(if you want to hear about the Warden Emmet/Lady Zoroakari AU that somehow keeps tying in to everything then I will gladly direct you to the Ao3 collection), Emmet's transformation is horrific and involves two arms ripping out of his sides a la wingfic and his Pokemon had to move fucking FAST to ensure he did not die

Ingo's transformation is much less so, he gets Sneasler ears and a feather and a lot of fluff

Emmet had to stay in the hospital for a while, rightfully so because a shit ton of his ribs were broken and his body had to rearrange itself and learn how to body again, Lemon(his Galvantula) has not left his side since his transformation and considers him her baby now, much like his entire Joltik swarm, but after he got out of the hospital life mostly goes back to normal! He has two smaller eyes above his normal eyes that see heat instead of things, and sometimes he uses those and closes his main eyes if he's overstimulated, and his second set of arms is covered in blue chitin and Joltik fuzz from the shoulder to the wrist

Both the twins have instincts, Emmet falls into his more often since he's unevolved and the Baby Pokemon Instincts™ take over quite a lot in an attempt to keep him safe, stay with mom, stay away from the danger types, the big Pokemon, don't get crushed- Half of those instincts do also apply to his team, meaning Pokemon like Luxa(Chandelure) and Eyrie(Archeops) now terrify him and he can't touch them easily

Ingo, on the other hand, has a much easier time separating his Pokemon half from his human half, and integrates his instincts when they do him good, especially with Lady Sneasler and her kits because she came with him when he came home(after appointing an heir ofc), however, on full moons he become a full Sneasler, it's a whole werewolf deal yknow

He goes feral for a night

First time it happened, Lady Sneasler was hostile the moment she saw him, but he was giving off a whole bunch of scared and confused vibes so she examined him a little more and realized "Hey wait, this is my Warden, what??" And started treating him like a Sneasel who evolved too early, babying him a little yk, helping him get used to his new body

(he's smaller than her only by a few inches but it's noticeable)

For a few months Emmet thought their house was fucking haunted on full moons because Wereingo is just a massive cat and if you've ever owned/worked with a cat, you'd understand

Then after some time, he ran into Wereingo entirely on accident and just had a "wait. What" moment because this fuckin thing is wearing his brother's hat and acting super affectionate towards him and Lady Sneasler doesn't seem worried?? So???? Anyway, that night ends with Emmet falling asleep being cuddled to death in Ingo's nest, verrrry confused, but shit gets explained/figured out in the morning

I say "figured out" because Ingo doesn't quite remember what happens when he turns, but the good news is he's not all that hostile! Only if he's attacked/threatened first <<<<<3

For a while, Akari(usually Zoroakari in my thoughts) is in Sinnoh with her family, so Wereingo goes through quite a few nights just searching through the house for her and getting increasingly distressed when he can't find his kit. So when she finally comes to stay with her uncles in Unova, a full moon comes around and suddenly she's being coddled and groomed by a fuckin Sneasler that she only vaguely recognizes, mostly through mannerisms and scent. She's reasonably alarmed at this until Emmet, tired as shit, just goes "yeah he does this every month. no yeah it just happens. can't really control it, just hope for the best. i'm going back to bed" And Doesn't Elaborate until next morning when Ingo is human-ish again and he's gotten sleep

NOW IT'S TIME FOR MORE JOLTEMMET STUFF!!! We all know he's currently unevolved, but when he does evolve he ends up as like a galvantula centaur thing and it's a little horrifying and a lot less easily hidden because That's The Entire Lower Half Of His Body, and I have a vague dot-to-dot scenario of how he evolves, because I think he'd actually be a little scared of it happening because he likes feeling small and safe with his family and he's lowkey scared that if he evolves, he won't be allowed to do that anymore which is a dumb fear bc ingo loves him a lot and would never deny him but emmet is forever afraid that he will be left again and just keeps an Everstone on him, tucked into his hat or pocket or something, to stop it from happening, but lemme grab that bullet-point list of how he evolves

- Big battle, like against an evil team or something

- Ingo starts getting overwhelmed

- Emmet jumps in to protect him

- Emmet's hat gets knocked off, and the Everstone with it

- Emmet defeats one enemy, more enemies come up, the stress and need to protect his family kicks off his evolution

- EMMET GALVANTULA CENTAUR TIME MF-ERS

Emmet goes fucking feral in defense of Ingo while Ingo recovers and its actually kinda scary- People run from the sudden monster that is the Doubles Line Subway Boss and as soon as Emmet is sure they won't come for Ingo again, he turns back to his brother, wild blue eyes sparking with rage and mandibles clicking, fuzz bristling up in hostility, and he starts approaching and Ingo's instinct, despite most of him going "woahhhh cool brother fighting moments :0", is to try and get away and defend from harm because Emmet is Very Clearly On The Offensive

Ingo, feather and ear pinned back in fear, slowly crawls back away from the hybrid in front of him. He knows it is Emmet, he knows very well. But everything in him is telling him to run, escape from the danger! But he can't. It's his brother, but Ingo can't tell if Emmet can still recognize him. His claws digging into the ground beside him, he watches in terror as Emmet comes towards him. He wants to talk to his brother, but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out.

Emmet bends down cause he's suddenly a lot taller than he thought he was, and starts quietly examining Ingo for any sort of injury, making a little chitter here and there but giving no indication he knows its Ingo, and not just something of his hoard he was meant to protect. It's hard to tell if someone, human or Pokemon, is still the same after evolution. If they still have the same mind, the same memories. Ingo keeps hissing on instinct and immediately shutting it down. He doesn't want to provoke Emmet, if that can happen, and he certainly doesn't want to find out if his brother will attack him.

His hair is frizzing up. Emmet is giving off more static electricity than he ever did before, even after a big meal of Gear Station's power generators. Emmet lifts Ingo's hat and starts combing through his hair, and it feels just like when Lemon does it, but larger. Emmet is too large now. Ingo has to dig his hands into the ground to stop from lashing out at him when he noses around the feather. But eventually, Emmet nods, and sets the hat back down. He leans down to look Ingo in the face for the first time. There are too many eyes. He's not smiling. It's neutral, which is alarming for Emmet, and is this even Emmet anymore? Ingo is scooped up into four arms and carries away from the danger. Everyone is too scared of the unnatural creature holding him to approach. Ingo catches Elesa's eye on the way. She's pale, and frightened.

There isn't any pause until the two of them are back at their house. Emmet doesn't stop at the living room, nor does he deliver Ingo to the bedroom decorated in black. Instead, they go to Emmet's room. Usually, Emmet comes from here to go find Ingo, but today he's bringing his older twin into the nest perpetually scattered with Joltik. He sets Ingo down and sorts it all out, and then pulls him into a cuddle.

Ingo isn't sure how to feel about this. His brother hasn't said a word, but that's normal when he doesn't have a script ready. He's not sure if his brother is still there, or if he's dealing with a wild Pokemon. He wouldn't know how evolution feels, he became a hybrid already fully evolved. But he can try and help Emmet, at least. That's all any of them can do at this point.

ANYWAY I THINK THAT'S A GOOD ENOUGH POINT TO LEAVE OFF FOR NOW <<<<<333 IF YOU WANT MORE INFO ON LITERALLY ANY OF MY AUS I AM WAITING HERE EAGERLY AND KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR AND GIGGLING UNCONTROLLABLY

#mod note #mod post #ask #mispelled #nick if you see this ik some of it deviates from what actually happened on our blogs but i had to squish into a normal-looking thing #m!a's don't quite exist in most timelines #btw. ask about the zoroakari branches ask about the zoroakari branches ask about the zoroakari branches ask about the zoroakari branches as #long post #REALLY long post

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lovinkiri · 2 years

Text

Undercover Wild Cat, Chapter Eleven

Author's Thoughts: I love how a majority of this story so far is Eijirou and his energetic blonde besties 😭

Description: With everyone returning to class, it's time for choosing hero names and interning. Despite the trouble, Sasha finds herself at a loss on what to do. But she's not without the support of friends.

Warning: None.

Art Credit: @.jabberwockyface

OC Credit: @jix-the-dragon

<<< ♡ >>>

Sasha had heard so many stories from her classmates by now, and she began to feel more and more upset by her absence from the Sports Festival. Still, she couldn’t help but feel proud of her classmates, especially Ochako and Eijirou.

Despite everything, she heard that Ochako fought hard against Bakugou and didn’t stop fighting until she couldn’t anymore. After watching the Sports Festival rerun herself, she couldn't agree more.

“I guess... I still lost though. But I’m going to beat Bakugou someday!” Ochako grinned, a determined spark reaching her eyes. She stood beside Sasha’s desk, hands on her hips.

Sasha smiled up at her from her seat. “Of course, you will. After that fight, I can tell. Besides, how the fight ended doesn’t matter too much.”

“What do you mean?” Eijirou turned to fully face her in his seat, tilting his head a bit in a way that made Sasha giggle at how cute he looked. Eijirou seemed to only get more confused by her laughter, but he smiled anyway. As long as he was making her smile.

“Well..” She shrugged, leaning back into her seat. “Ochako showed a fierce side that I don’t think anyone has ever seen in her before. The only time I saw her get that stubborn was during the entrance exam when she saved Izuku.” She said thoughtfully.

Smirking at Ochako’s immediately flushed face, she continued. “What I’m saying is, you looked like a real hero out there. You’re bound to get a bunch of opportunities to study under heroes. You did great out there.”

Ochako smiled and threw her arms around Sasha. “Thank, Sasha! That’s the sweetest thing anyone in this class has ever said to me.”

Sasha chuckled and gave her a quick hug back. “Of course. Now go sit down, I can hear Aizawa coming.”

Yelping, she jumped away and made her way to her seat. “Guys! Sasha says Aizawa is coming!”

The rest of their classmates who weren’t at their desks stumbled into their chairs. And anyone who was talking, they weren’t talking anymore. Aizawa walked in as soon as everyone had settled and looked around suspiciously before fully making his way inside.

“... I’m going to pretend your good behavior doesn’t startle me. Morning.”

“Good morning, Mr. Aizawa.” The class chimed, a few smiling at his remark.

“Mr. Aizawa, you aren’t wearing bandages anymore.” Tsuyu pointed out.

Sasha’s eyes lit up and she grinned. “Are you feeling better then?” She asked hopefully. Feelings of guilt still lingered, even then. She figured it was all her fault Aizawa was hurt in the first place, so seeing his recovery meant a lot to her.

He nodded. “Mm. The old lady took her treatment too far.” He sighed, Sasha and Eijirou exchanging an amused glance at the thought of Recovery Girl kissing Aizawa better.

“Everyone, we have an important class today. Hero Informatics.” He continued.

Sasha felt a chill go down her spine and her ears began to go back, most of the class showing as much fear as she was.

“Normally, I’m great agent assessments, but I’m lacking in the hero department compared to everyone here.” She thought. “Relax, Quinn, relax. At least try to get a B.”

After a moment of silence, as if to torture his students, he clarified. “You’ll need codenames, so it’s time to pick your hero identities.”

Just as quick as they despaired, everyone around Sasha jumped up in delight. They began to chatter and cheer excitedly, drawing a sigh from Aizawa and a glare that had everyone quiet and in their seats.

“This is related to the pro hero draft picks that I previously mentioned. Students don’t normally have to worry about that until their second or third year, but your class is different. Any interest a hero takes in you is essentially investing in your potential. Though they have the right to take back any offers before graduation, so nothing is set in stone.”

Sasha hummed quietly. “If I was an actual student, I’d be pretty worried. Thankfully, I shouldn’t have gotten any offers. I didn’t participate after all. I’m an agent, so this isn’t for me.”

Aizawa pulled up a couple of numbers stating who got offers. Sasha noticed something interesting, but Jirou mentioned it first.

“Todoroki got more offers than Bakugou.” She pointed out.

Eijirou nodded. “Yeah, their roles are completely switched from how they placed in the festival.”

Sero spoke up, shrugging. “They probably weren’t excited about working with the guy who had to be chained up at the end.”

“IF I SCARE THE PROS, THEY’RE JUST WEAK!”

Sasha looked at Bakugou and chuckled. “I get your logic, but I don’t think any pros are scared of you, Bakugou.” She leaned her cheek against her palm, watching in amusement as he fumed.

“Who the hell was talking to you, house cat?!”

Her ears stiffened in shock before immediately falling flat as she returned his glare. “Who are you calling a house pet, you walking stick of dynamite?!”

Mina looked over curiously. “Uh.. Are they okay?”

Denki sighed before smiling. “They’re at it again..”

“C’mon, guys, let’s chill out..” Eijirou said, looking at the two nervously. They simply glared at each other once more before crossing their arms and looking away.

Aizawa began speaking again. “Despite these results, you’ll all be interning. You all witnessed and experienced combat with real villains, thanks to the USJ incident. Still, it will be helpful to see pros at work. Up close, in the field, first hand.”

Sasha sat in shock snd quickly spoke up. “Wait, so I’ll still be interning? I didn’t participate in the Sports Festival at all, I’m not sure if I deserve the opportunity..”

Her classmates looked at her, Eijirou’s eyebrows furrowing. “What’re you talkin’ about, Sash? You weren’t feeling well. That’s not your fault.”

Hearing her own lie stung her heart, especially from Eijirou, but she didn’t let it show. “But still, I don’t deserve a spot like that..”

Aizawa shook his head. “That’s not for you to decide, Quinn. So, yeah, you’ll be interning too.”

She gave a nod, trying to avoid her classmate's worried stares. “I understand, sir.”

Aizawa began to talk about hero names again, and that seemed to cheer everyone up a bit. Midnight made her introduction in the middle of Aizawa's sentence, drawing everyone’s attention. Especially the boys.

Eijirou immediately looked away from her, looking down instead. Sasha noticed and whispered, “Not gonna drool like the rest of the boys?”

He quickly shook his head. “N-Nah. Doesn’t feel right.. Besides, I don’t drool over other girls anyway.” He chuckled softly.

Sasha blushed and gently repeated his words. “Other girls..? So..”

Eijirou’s cheeks turned as red as his hair and he laughed nervously.

Aizawa began telling the class how important choosing a hero name was, mentioning how your codename should reflect what you represent as a hero, and bringing up All Might as an example.

Sasha thought hard but she had no clue what to name herself. She wasn’t a hero, and she wasn’t here to be a hero. So choosing a name to reflect that was out the window.

“You okay, Sash?” Eijirou asked, handing her a dry erase board.

She nodded. “Mhm. Just having a hard time understanding the reflection of representing a hero thing.” She sighed.

“Oh.. Well, think of it this way. Your name should tell people who you are, right?”

Sashaperked up and smiled. “Yeah.. Yeah. Thank you, Eij. That actually helped a whole lot.”

He grinned. “Glad I could help!”

Eventually, Midnight asked if anyone was ready to present.

“Hold up, we’re supposed to share?” Denki asked, gripping his board a bit tighter and pulling it closer.

Everyone began to whisper, Eijirou gawking in complete horror at the thought of sharing. Sasha leaned over and rubbed his arm, making him relax ever so slightly. It was so ironic that she was petting him, he couldn’t help but smile.

No one seemed to want to go first except for Aoyama, who was quick to make his way to the front of the classroom and announce his hero name “I Can Not Stop Twinkling”. Everyone stared in shock, but even more so when Midnight approved, only shortening his name a bit to “Can’t Stop Twinkling”.

Sasha figured it was a bit of a mouthful, but it certainly suited Aoyama and his twinkling personality.

Everyone went up to give their hero names. She already knew Eijirou’s, but hearing him speak about his idol put a smile on her face. She always loved seeing Eijirou get passionate about things that meant something to him.

But she almost absolutely died of laughter at “King Explosion Murder”. Her hands over her mouth, she tried pretending to be surprised, but her shaking shoulders gave her away. Eijirou seemed to think it was funny too.

“Hey, how about ‘Explosion Boy’?” Eijirou called out, playing on when Sasha had called Bakugou “Explodo Boy”.

“Shut up, Shitty Hair!”

Unable to hold back anymore, Sasha broke into a fit of laughter with Eijirou and Denki. Bakugou began yelling at the three, of course.

Once his turn finished, everyone continued. Sasha went up last, holding her board in her hands.

“Uh.. My codename name is.. Namir.” She scratched the back of her head, hoping Midnight found it acceptable. Thankfully, Midnight loved it.

“I love it! The origin name of leopard! And it sounds so elegant!”

Sasha nodded, smiling as her classmates praised her name. She shuffled back to her seat and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

“Great job up there, Namir.” Eijirou chuckled.

She grinned and gently shoved at his shoulder. “Thanks, Red Riot.”

“... Please, your name was boring.”

“Petty looks ugly on you, Explosion Boy.”

“HOUSE PET!”

Aizawa and Midnight gave out listings of agencies, telling the class to be mindful of what type of agency to pick. He dismissed class, leaving everyone to chat excitedly amongst themselves.

Sasha sigh. “Great. Now, what do I do?”

“Kirishima, where do you think you'll intern?” She asked curiously, looking up from her paper just in time to meet the redhead’s gaze.

“Ah, probably Fatgum’s agency! What about you?” He fully turned to face her in his seat, watching her sigh and shrug.

She had absolutely no clue what to do. Being in a classroom was one thing, but having a hero devote their attention to her was another. It simply didn’t sit right with her. The thought of slipping up and having her cover blown was upsetting.

Besides, it’s not like what she said earlier was wrong either. She didn’t feel like she deserved it. The more she thought about it, the more it weighed on her. She didn’t even come here for hero training. She was taking the place of someone who actually wanted to be a hero. Still, she was doing this to take down AOF. Some sacrifices had to be made.

As an agent, she should have detached herself from the situation and the guilt that came with it. But being here and experiencing what it's like being a student, being one of them... It was different.

Now that she knew what being young felt like, she could understand everyone better. Because of that, it hurt more to lie and cheat them.

“I just hope they don’t hate me too much..” She thought.

Eijirou leaned over, placing a hand over hers. “Hey..” He said, gaining her attention. “Everything will be fine. You’re good at figuring things out, Sash.”

She blinked owlishly before grinning. Eijirou always knew what to say and when to say it. “Thanks, Eij. You’re the best. Are you already a Sasha whisperer?”

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to think so!” He liked the sound of that. Someone who understood Sasha. H wanted to be someone like that.

Her attention was diverted to the sound of grumbling that her ears picked up. She turned and saw Bakugou shaking with anger, muttering under her breath.

“Yo, Bakugou!” She called out, the blonde stiffly turning to face her. She smiled softly. “Are you jealous that you didn’t the most offers?” She teased.

“Like hell I am! It’s the heroes' loss! I’m the best here!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She brushed his words off. “Eij, Denki, and I are going to get ice cream after school. Wanna come?”

“Screw that!” He shouted.

She nodded. “Cool! Just wait for us after class, okay?”

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!”

~~~~

Bakugou stomped ahead of the group angrily, hands in his pockets.

“Of course, he still ended up coming with us.” Denki chuckled, grinning from ear to ear. “Bakugou! Do you even know where you’re going?”

He slightly turned to look back at the rest. “Of course I do! I wouldn’t be leading the way if I didn’t, idiot!”

Sasha jogged up to him a bit. “What’s got you so much more upset than usual? Were you really upset about the offers? You still got a bunch.”

“No, that’s not it. Mind your business!” He rolled his eyes.

The other two joined them. “C’mon, Bakugou, emotional vulnerability is like.. Super manly!”

“I’m not feeling emotional, Shitty Hair!”

Sasha chuckled. “Ice cream will help you feel better. I’ll even pay, my treat.”

He continued to grumble, brooding all the way to the ice cream parlor. Just like promised, Sasha bought a popsicle, despite him yelling that he didn’t need her to buy him anything.

Though when the popsicle entered his mouth, Bakugou was a lot quieter.

“I think.. I just figured out something new about Bakugou.” She mumbled to Denki and Eijirou.

Bakugou no longer walked ahead of them, not walking beside them nonchalantly. It almost seemed like he wasn’t even paying attention, instead choosing to focus on his thoughts and popsicle.

“Huh.. Bakugou likes ice cream.” Denki murmured. “I didn’t take him as a sweets guy. I thought he’d be more into spicy stuff.”

“I am,” Bakugou spoke up, sounding less angry, but still agitated. “I’m just not picky. I eat all types of stuff. And don’t talk about me like I'm not here.”

Eijirou nodded, grinning. “Sorry, bro. Oh hey, could I walk you home again, Sash?”

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugged, leaning against him. “Why do you always wanna walk me home though?” She looked up at him.

Blushing pink, his expression softened watching her. “I just wanna make sure you get home safe. Wouldn’t be very manly if I didn’t.”

She smiled up at him. ”You’re the manliest, Eijirou. You know that?”

He began stuttering over his words, Denki interjecting. “Well, now we gotta walk you home too, at least today. We’re manly too, right Bakugou?” He asked the other blonde, who gave a grunt in response.

Sasha laughed softly. “That’s cool, I guess. I like hanging out with you guys.”

“You’re so wholesome, Sasha.” Denki shrugged. “We gotta look out for you.. Even though I’m sure you and your claws could handle anything.”

She wanted to argue that she wasn’t the most wholesome, that the title belonged to Eijirou. But after watching Eijirou nod in agreement with Denki, she decided to keep it to herself.

“Yeah, sure guys. Sure.”

#eijirou kirishima x oc #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #writing commissions #fluff #character x oc #eijirou kirishima #Undercover Wild Cat

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iguana-eyanna · 2 years

Text

He Thought He Had It All

Pairing: Mob boss! Chris Evans x reader

Summary: After a year of dating the most notorious crime lord of your city, Chris makes the hardest decision in order to protect you.

Warning: mafia-related violence, abduction, smut, oral receiving, protected sex

a/n: this was in my drafts for a long time and this was more of a spur of the moment type of fic

He hated how this was the fourth glass he drowned this night.

He was never the one to indulge in a drink unless he was in the company of others.

Now, he was alone.

But he had to, the rare whiskey in his hand numbed some part of the pain that he has been feeling for some days.

He was drinking to forget you.

For those who knew him, Chris Evans was the most notorious mobster in the state of Massachusetts. He had power under his thumb and people were in their debt for saving their business during recessions.

The government couldn't touch him as he helped most of the officials to get in office, therefore, became invincible to the police.

But he wasn't so invincible around you.

Chris thinks back to the first time he saw you in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. It was a fall morning to be exact, where he was meeting with an associate to clear some confusion on a financial issue.

After a not so pretty transaction, he decides to clear his mind and walks to the museum to admire some new additions to the exhibit.

He was looking at the people around him, young college kids who rather be here than their classes or an old couple that walked hand in hand.

And then, he saw you.

He had to do a double-take as you looked breathtaking from the light that cascaded down from the glass ceiling. Your skin looked like you emerged from the sun itself. It was as if every motion you took, you glowed radiantly.

Chris was obsessed with the image of you, and he barely knew your name. You then pass him casually, not knowing how tormented you made the most notorious man of the state.

He slowly starts to follow you, seeing how you stand so still at the large painting in front of you.

"Breathtaking, isn't it? The artist only sold seven pieces before he died and this is the only one in the state." You state out loud, making small talk.

You hear the man next to you snicker. "Two actually, I own one in my house." That statement made you turn your head to see the face of the tall stranger.

"Bold enough for you to assume I'd be impressed." you say to him, not wanting to be charmed by his jest.

"It was enough for you to turn around so I could see your beautiful face again." he flirtatiously responded as he could see you blush.

That was when he knew he won your heart.

From then on, you were each other's drug. There was no way to get down from your high as the ecstasy raised in your relationship.

Chris was surprised when he told you what he does as an occupation, seeing how calm you were instead of being afraid.

"Love comes with risks, babe... For you, I'll risk everything." you told him one night as you came back from a fancy dinner. That made something in Chris go feral as he took your body and attacked your mouth. He carries you within the house and starts to tear off each other's clothes.

He moans as you begin to tease him as you take off the lingerie you've been wanting to wear for so long. It takes all of his strength not to rip it off of you.

What he didn't expect was for you to straddle him in the bed, as you swiftly pull down his boxers to reveal his length shoot forward.

You kiss the tip of it as you slowly take all of him in your mouth. He holds your hair carefully, feeling the tender touches of his hands as he muffles his moans. You look up and see how he's trying so hard not to cum in your mouth.

You make a pop sound as you finish off as both of you try to catch your breath. Chris then flips you to the bed as he begins to go on top of you, feeling his thick body warm you up.

He looks at you seriously, wanting nothing more to be inside of you. You nod your head yes as he quickly pops on a condom that was in his nightstand. Once he was done, he kisses you passionately as he slips right in you.

You groan a bit, never having someone so big inside of you. You walls begin to expand more as you start to feel the base where his balls were. Chris then quickens his pace as he takes a mouthful of your breast in his mouth. You gasp from the sensation as you grab a fistful of his hair.

"I think I'm in love with you." he whispers as he gives his final thrusts, pulling out before he begins to cum.

You both lay on the bed seconds later, naked and wet.

"Did, did you say... that you loved me?" you stutter out as you stare at Chris.

He nods his head, gulping as he was embarrassed for so vulnerable.

"I think I'm in love with you, too." you whisper as you turn on your side, cuddling him as the big spoon.

Something in him broke, like an icy heart that has been thawed in the summer light. He nestles near your neck as he holds you close to him, feeling a type of love he never felt before. He didn't want for it to go away.

But once people noticed who you were to him, they used every opportunity to take what was his.

You begin to notice when you're shopping for clothes or out with friends, mysterious cars and people follow you wherever you go. You tell Chris right away as you feared something was wrong.

He started hiring bodyguards for you and for himself, he starts researching who his employers were and their backgrounds.

But one day, you were then in a car crash from a big truck. You see men in suits and take out your driver and bodyguard. They force you out of the car and throw you on the pavement, cutting your knees and hands.

"You tell that boyfriend of yours he's going to pay for all the sins he committed." An older man says, kneeling down to your crouched figure on the road.

They speed away from you as you shuffled out your phone from your pocket.

There were three rings until Chris answered cheerfully.

"Baby..." you stuttered out. He then gets alert as he hears the fear and pain in your voice.

"Don't go anywhere, I'm coming." he hung up, knowing what route you took that day.

He drove like a maniac till he saw a smoking car on the edge of the road. He gets out of the driver's side and sees you crying as you tried holding yourself for support.

"I got you, I got you." He whispers as he carefully scoops you in his arms as he drives you to the nearest clinic that he had control over. Chris didn't leave your side as the doctor was wrapping your wounds, it physically hurt him when he heard you hiss from the stinging alcohol to treat your cuts.

Once you were able to leave, you both drive in silence to a safe house, as Chris couldn't trust going back to where you both lived.

You tell him of who attacked you and the last words you heard from one of the people seeking their revenge. He was silent at first, realizing that he made more enemies than allies these past months.

You then fell asleep almost immediately, but Chris stayed up all night, wondering what would have happened if you were badly hurt or worse, dead. He couldn't survive in a world without you in it, so he knew what he had to do.

The next morning, you feel a bit sore as you sit up in bed. Chris sits on the end of it, staring at a packed suitcase.

"Where are we going?" you ask as you shift closer to Chris, hugging him from behind.

He doesn't return your affection as his eyes still haven't left the luggage.

"You're taking a train to Maryland." he says under his breath.

You pull away from him. "What do you mean I'm going to Maryland?"

You see a shift within Chris, now seeing his eyes shot red.

"You're not safe here. If they find you again and I'm not there to protect you..."

You shake your head in denial, your fists clenching as your eyes begin to water.

"You can't decide for me, Chris." you cried out, pounding his chest.

He takes your wrists into his hands, stopping you from hitting him again. You then collapse in his chest, sobbing.

"What if something happens to you?" you sniffled as you feel Chris soothing the back of your hair.

"You'll move on, find someone better than me... someone, who won't put you in danger."

You look up to him. "But all I want is you." you emphasized.

He gives you a bitter laugh as he moves a strand of hair away from your face. Chris was the man where he thought he had it all.

"I could replace any art piece, whiskey, or a fancy car. But the only thing that I can't replace is my love for you. So please, I beg you... leave and never come back."

You move back from his arms, crying. But you complied with his order, quickly getting dressed then grabbing the luggage. He gets up to drive you to the station where you both drove in silence.

Once you both walk hand in hand, you turn to each other, taking one final look.

"Will I ever see you again?" you ask, trying not to cry again.

He doesn't reply right away, as his silence answered your question.

"There's enough money for you to find a place for a few weeks. An old friend owes me a favor and is offering an honest job, one you'll like."

You only nod your head and you both hear your train is about to board. You slowly walk to your stop and your hands slip away from each other.

A lump forms in the back of your throat as all you want to do is scream. You are soon off guard as Chris takes you in his embrace one last time and kisses you with all of his force. The kiss felt like it was an eternity until the final announcement was made for the boarding.

He lets go of you and stands near the tracks, staring at the train that leaves off for Maryland. Chris could still feel the taste of you on his lips, soon tasting the tears that fell on his cheeks.

Now, he was in his study, drowning his sorrows away as he hears bullets firing downstairs in his house.

Footsteps pound to where he was staying as he took another swig of his drink.

The doors burst open and he doesn't comprehend that he was struck multiple times.

He falls down to his death, staring at the ceiling as he only had one thought filled his mind.

You were safe.

#mafia fic #chris evans #chris evans x reader #mob boss fic #mobboss! x chris evans #mob boss chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans angst #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic

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ikaroux · 3 years

Text

Xiao: Who are you ? (part 1) (v.EN)

f!reader

I want a sweet Xiao <3 and then when you have Matsuoka Yoshitsugu as a seiyuu, how can you not love him?! (even if it will surely be complicated for him to understand the emotions that go through him!).

Zhongli being written.

Masterlist

Part 2

Who are you?

The last Yaksha guardian was collapsed on the ground, wounded, exhausted. His last battle with the darkness had lasted most of the night, further weighing down the karma of the young man with dark hair dotted with emerald strands. The voices of those he had killed fogged his mind, causing excruciating pain to his soul and body. Lying on his stomach unable to open his eyes, his hand struggled to find his winged jade spear that had fallen to the ground with him. A groan of pain scraped his throat at the movement.

The young man flinched briefly as he heard footsteps approaching him quickly, feeling hands grasp his shoulders to carefully turn him around.

He tried again to open his eyes, his vision was blurred and foggy. He could not distinguish the features of the human who had seized him, feeling only his hand gently caressing his hair in an attempt to soothe him. The voice he heard calling him with concern sounded like a woman's, soft and warm.

A soothing light enveloped the young woman, the boy did not understand what was happening because in the second that followed, his body lightened, his pain evaporated, was he dreaming?

Although his vision was still blurred, he nevertheless managed to distinguish a little better the contours of the young woman with long hair (color).

"Who are you? "

His voice was marked by fatigue. He managed to distinguish a thin smile on the face of his rescuer. He repeated more weakly:

"Who are you...? "

His eyes sank, the ethereal form of the young woman reminding him of distant memories, a sudden warmth burst in his heart. Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes.

"Gui...zhong? "

The landscape around him darkened, leading him straight into a soft torpor.

Xiao woke up with a start. Where was he? The Wangshu Inn? Yes, he recognized his quarters, but how did he get there? He still remembered his fight against the horde of monsters he had defeated. He raised his right hand to his face, examining it more closely.

He had no more wounds, no more pain, which brought him back to the young woman he thought he had seen. Had he hallucinated? Had she really healed him? Everything seemed to be a blur. He got up from the bed without difficulty, heading directly to the balcony which was on the top floor of the inn. He looked around, hoping to find the woman who had helped him. The sun was beginning to set, so he had spent the day resting here. It was unusual for him, not being human he didn't have the same needs as them, sleeping, eating, living with others, all that seemed ridiculous. He was almost angry at himself for staying unconscious for so long, hitting one of the wooden columns on the balcony.

Xiao turned around, heading towards the stairs, quickly walking down the steps to Wangshu's innkeeper, Verr Goldet.

"Verr. "

The young woman turned her attention to Xiao.

"Good evening lord Xiao, have you recovered from your last fight? "

"Did you see who brought me here?"

Verr didn't take offense to his curt tone, simply shaking her head to indicate that she hadn't.

Xiao clicked his tongue, annoyed. He needed to know who this mysterious woman was who had taken care of him. The memory of the warmth that emanated from her gripped his heart again, drawing his steps back towards the exit of the inn.

He suddenly bumped into a young man with blond hair, accompanied by his annoying little creature.

"Xiao?"

Aether looked at Xiao with big round eyes, he was not used to seeing him with such an expression. He was confused, frustrated and angry, these were all emotions that were running through the yaksha since he woke up.

"Xiao is not in a good mood"- Paimon twirled around him- "You should come eat something with us, nothing beats a good meal for..."

"I don't need that! "

Paimon gasped, hiding behind Aether. Xiao tried to calm himself by inhaling a deep breath of air, passing by the traveler without saying a word.

"Wait Xiao! Where are you going? "

Aether stopped him, grabbing his arm loosely so as not to rush him further. Xiao immediately gave a sharp blow on his arm to disengage himself, he regretted his abrupt words, he hated it. Before he met Aether, he never had to worry about others or how to behave with them, he was alone and he was fine with that. It was all too... human for him. Slowly he turned his gaze to the traveler.

"Aether I... am sorry. "

"Xia...! "

Without saying another word, Xiao disappeared in a draft.

When you landed in Liyue from your native land, Sumeru, a few months ago, a terrifying battle took place at the city's port. An ancient God who had once been sealed by the rock lord had broken free from his prison, attempting to destroy the port of Liyue in the process, but fortunately he was quickly stopped.

Since these events, you had started to travel in the lands of the geo archon, studying the local fauna and flora. Flowers had always fascinated you, their shapes, their smells, their meanings or their benefits, you studied absolutely everything, noting and drawing in a notebook everything you saw.

In Sumeru, you joined the prestigious magic academy to perfect your Guizhong, that was the last thing he said to you. Who was he? It seemed to you that you had already read this name in one of the books you had borrowed from the academy. You couldn't ask him, tiredness taking him away from you. You knew that not far away there was an inn, it was going to be difficult but you had to take him there so that he could rest. When you picked him up, wrapping your arm around his shoulders for support, his spear on the ground disappeared by itself. You had adjusted your grip before you began your walk.

After several minutes of recalling these events, you noticed that you had finally arrived at the high cliffs of Huaguang. Taking your courage in both hands, you prepared yourself mentally to climb the cliff. Up there was a flower that you wanted to study, the Qingxin flower. They grew exclusively on the highest stone peaks, avoiding heat and humidity, a lonely and hard to reach flower.

"It's okay! "

You rolled up your sleeves, putting your feet and hands where they could grip, slowly you began your ascent.

Night had fallen on the Liyue plains, and it was at the top of Qingyun Peak that the Yaksha had taken refuge, watching the stars brighter than ever. Sitting on the edge of the cliff, the memory of the young woman haunted him. The pain in his chest made him clench his fists, he had never felt like this, he didn't even know what name to put on these feelings.

Xiao was a thousand year old follower, human feelings didn't concern him, so why? Why such pain at the mere thought of a... stranger? But was she really a stranger? This woman had reminded him of an old friend, Guizhong, who died during the Archon war. Could she have come back in an ethereal form? Or maybe it was a new trick the demons had found to torture him a little more.

In the distance, Xiao saw a faint jade-colored light coming from the Huaguang stone forest. He widened his eyes, remembering that glow that had saved his life. His heart began to beat furiously in his chest.

"This is... impossible... I found you. "

His voice trembled at the sight of the sweet emanation. It warmed him, soothed him, the voices that constantly hammered him fell silent and his usually aching body was now light. At last he understood his obsession with you, when you had treated him earlier this morning, a bond had been established between you, a bond as strong as the one that bound him to Morax for whom he had the greatest respect and devotion.

Xiao stood up, looking in the direction you were facing. He disappeared into the wind.art and deepen your knowledge. More than once your teachers told you that your manipulation of your dendro vision was exceptional, some city-states were already looking to recruit you as a researcher or healer, but you always refused, preferring to remain free of your movements. Once you had finished your studies, you quickly decided to leave your homeland, wanting to learn more from your neighbors. Your steps finally led you to Liyue.

You had left early that morning, heading towards the Huaguang stone forest from the Dihua swamp. On the way, you passed a badly wounded young man with emerald tattoos on him. His face, despite the wounds, was beautiful and when he opened his eyes, the amber color immediately fascinated you.

You couldn't leave him like that, wounded and bruised, using your Dendro vision to heal him. When you used it, it projected a jade aura on you and a flowery area grew around you, releasing energy that allowed you to heal even the deepest wounds.

He had tried several times to ask you to identify yourself, which you did, but his apparent fatigue had closed off his senses.

Guizhong, that was the last thing he said to you. Who was he? It seemed to you that you had already read this name in one of the books you had borrowed from the academy. You couldn't ask him, tiredness taking him away from you. You knew that not far away there was an inn, it was going to be difficult but you had to take him there so that he could rest. When you picked him up, wrapping your arm around his shoulders for support, his spear on the ground disappeared by itself. You had adjusted your grip before you began your walk.

"It's okay! "

You rolled up your sleeves, putting your feet and hands where they could grip, slowly you began your ascent.

"This is... impossible... I found you. "

Xiao stood up, looking in the direction you were facing. He disappeared into the wind.

You had finally reached the top of the cliff, immediately spotting two-three Qingxin flowers. You immediately knelt down beside one of them, taking out your notebook and pencil. You began to draw this beautiful flower from every angle, noting here and there the characteristics you could observe. Satisfied with everything you could see, you finally turned to the landscape plunged in the darkness of the night. Liyue's sky was dotted with stars that shone brightly. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the cliff top, your gaze turned back to the flowers of Qingxin, suddenly reminding you of the young man you had rescued. When you looked into his eyes, his eyes seemed so sad, so lonely. The pain that seemed to be emanating from him had struck you at the highest point.

You turned your attention back to the stars. Your mind was obsessed with this boy and it was with him in mind that you began to sing an ancient poem by Sumeru. The words, although sung in your native language, were undoubtedly sad and melancholic. Your hands were placed in front of you, palms up, eyes closed, activating your dendro vision. A jade-green circle encircled the entire surface of the cliff, particles of light streaming from the ground. Gradually, luminescent blue flowers began to grow around you, following the rhythm of your song.

It was a violent draught that cut you off, opening your eyes in surprise. You gasped as you saw the young man with the amber eyes standing before you.

He was out of breath, stiff as a board, his eyes never leaving yours. Something in him seemed different from this morning, in his eyes you could see... peace?

He cautiously approached you, kneeling down in front of you to get to your level. He took one of your hands in his, squeezing it gently. The particles you had created swirled around you, lighting up the scene. Your heart was pounding now that he was in front of you, you found him even more attractive under the moonlight. His eyes shone with an incredible brilliance, his tattoos also glowed with a soft emerald glow.

Your voice, your appearance, everything seemed sweet to him, no wonder he confused you with Guizhong, you looked like him in some ways.

His lips trembled slightly as he continued to examine your face, a question seemed to cross his lips.

His free hand went up to your face, tucking one of your locks behind your ear.

"Who are you? "His tone was more brutal than he had intended it to be.

Your eyes widened at the question. Of course you couldn't introduce yourself or learn who he was, his name, what he did. You wanted to know everything about this man who had marked your heart.

Seeing that you didn't answer, he asked again in a soft whisper, making you blush.

"Who are you? "

"(y/n)..."

And for the first time since you met, a smile stretched his lips, a silence accompanying your answer. His smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, his hand dropped yours.

"Xiao. "

You looked at him intensely, your face completely red as he straightened his legs.

"As long as you're in Liyue, I'll protect you. Call me and I'll be there in a second."

You slowly nodded, fascinated by this man who was decidedly not human. He watched you for a few more seconds, his eyes entranced by your presence before disappearing as he had appeared...

"Xiao..."

#genshin impact x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin icons #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #genshin impact #genshin spoilers #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin xiao x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x y/n #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #xiao

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familyfriendlyweed · 3 years

Text

late night snaps (quackity x reader)

a/n : before we get into the story, i wanted to thank you all for such support on my first post - i only posted it yesterday, and got a hell lot of likes and reblogs and even gained 23 followers, which is insane for me (or maybe i just don’t know how tumblr works, haha)! anyhow, i’m really happy you guys enjoyed it <3

it was 02:37 and you were editing your newest video. you had no idea it would take so long, though! even if you were used to staying up very late, you knew you have to put away your laptop and go get some sleep.

saving the video as a draft and shutting your computer off, you started to blindly search for your phone, since your eyes didn’t get used to the darkness yet. finally finding it, you turned it on to set an alarm for the next morning when you suddenly saw a snapchat notification from ten minutes ago. it was from Alex. you curiously unlocked your phone and tapped the little notification to be led straight to snapchat.

idiota : hello mamacita

your face instantly lit up in a childish smile. you started to type your response eagerly like it wasn’t 2 am and you didn’t have online classes tomorrow.

you : why hello there, el señor

you saw Alex’s silly bitmoji pop up as he started to type.

idiota : what is my chica bella doing up so late?

you giggled, getting comfortable in your bed - this meant a long chatting session on its way.

you : YOUR chica bella? when did that happen?

idiota : ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!! >:((((

you : fine you big baby, i was finishing editing a new video

idiota : hmm i see, i see

you : what about you though? u should get some sleep!!! :(((

Alex’s bitmoji started typing, then stopped for some reason. you lifted your eyebrow at that. then he continued, but it took a while for him to finish.

idiota : why, i just couldn’t fall asleep when you were on my mind all the time, mi amor

your cheeks grew red in an instant. you knew you could handle jokes pretty well, but this was quite too much. Alex never got so far as to actually flirt with you.

you : eh??? what drugs are u on

idiota : the only drug for me is you mamacita

you snorted. you had no idea if he was being serious or not, even if the second option was more likely.

you : literally go to sleep wtf

idiota : i’d sleep better if you were by my side ;)

this was enough for you - you felt as if you got one more message like this from him, you’d die from the hotness in your cheeks. setting your phone down, you made your way to the bathroom before bed.

you came back five minutes later, only to see your phone full of notifications from Alex. your heart was thumping really hard, you weren’t used to this, but you opened snapchat anyway.

idiota : mamacita?

idiota : ....

idiota : mamacita, don’t joke w me like that

idiota : did you really just leave me on read wtf

idiota : i’m sad come back :(((

and at last, there was a snap from him. you were quite scared at this point. with a shaking hand, you opened it.

you laughed so hard that you seriously thought you’ll have a seizure. still laughing, you snapped a selfie with a cute filter on (you really thought you looked horrible at the moment), captioned it with “your chica bella had to take a piss u simp” and sent it to Alex.

he opened the snap almost imediatelly and started typing afterwards :

idiota : mamacita!!!! you look hermosa!!!!

you : that’s because i have a filter on lmaoo

idiota : mamacita don’t let yourself down, you are so beautiful :((

you started to text a sarcastic reply, but stopped. for some reason, Alex seemed like he was being truthful. he wasn’t joking around when he called you beautiful, that was too affectionate.

you : ...really?

idiota : si, si! <3

you tugged at your lip in a thinking manner. true, you had feelings for Alex, but you never thought he had something similar to you. or maybe... maybe he was just supporting you as a friend. figuring that was probably it, you texted :

you : thank you quacker B]] ur also v handsome

idiota : mamacita likes me!!!!!😍😍😍

you smiled sadly. Alex was definitely playing around. you got lost in thought for a few moments, thinking about how would he act if he was actually in love with someone. would he, perhaps, be more mature? that would be very weird to look at.

finally coming back to planet Earth, you looked at your phone only to see that Alex has written a shit ton of messages again :

idiota : i want to see you, mamacita

idiota : it’s fine if u don’t want to, you’re probably going to sleep anyway...

idiota : but maybe let’s meet tomorrow?

idiota : mamacita?

idiota : ....

idiota : i’m coming over <3

your heart gave a leap of embarassment and surprise. why would he even say that?

you : wait what

you : wdym “i’m coming over”

you : no tf ur not

you : go to sleep

idiota : doesn’t mamacita want to see muah???

you : no, that would be awesome, but you should go to sleep, really :(

idiota : y/n, i already told you, i can’t sleep when you’re on my mind

you froze in spot, staring at your screen for what felt like an eternity. did he just call you by your name? you knew he only says it in serious situations. deciding to change your tactic, you started texting seriously :

you : are you like... for real now?

you : because i know you call me by my name in serious situations, but maybe it’s only a prank, so just answer me truthfully, okay?

Alex started typing, it took even longer that before, but at last you saw his message, this time without caps, spammed question/exclamation marks, nothing silly at all :

idiota : i am serious, y/n. believe me, this is not a prank. i just really wanna see you.

your heart skipped a beat or two, your face renewed its redness. you felt as if you were dreaming.

you : okay... i’m really glad. come over, please

idiota : thank you so much

you started pondering in your head - how did this happen? how did this silly conversation turn out like this?

but what if Alex texted you because he wanted to come over in the first place? after all, he knew how shitty your sleep schedule was. that would be awesome, you thought, a small smile dancing on your lips.

you checked the snap map only to see Alex about 100 meters from you. wait... what? 100 METERS??? was Alex near your place the moment he texted you for the first time?

you jumped up, starting to tidy up your messy room up, only to remember you look like poop at the moment - hair messy, face tired, clothes scrunched.

exhaling heavily, you tried to change your appearance quickly - you ran into the bathroom, brushing your hair panickily. then you wrenched the makeup bag open and started to rummage through it trying to find some mascara or something...

ding ding!

you froze, your eyes widened. he was already here, what the hell?!

you quickly put on some mascara, ran into the hallway while brushing your face with your hands from stress (completely forgetting you have mascara on, somehow) and unlocked the door.

Alex’s figure was dark, since the lightbulb in the corridor wasn’t working, and it almost gave you a fright. but as soon as he engulfed you in a warm hug, the tension in the pit of your stomach vanished. you hugged him back almost unsurely, but smiling.

“hello, mamacita”

you giggled. for some reason, you got the strongest urge to cry. probably from happiness, but it still was confusing to you. nevertheless, tears started running down your cheeks, mixing with mascara, probably making you look like you were going to a halloween dress up party.

“hey, why are you crying?” Alex asked, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“i look horrible.” you laughed, wiping your tears away.

“nooo, why won’t you listen to me? i already told you you’re beautiful.” he said with a cute pout.

“alright, alright, i’m very beautiful, let me down now.” you said, noticing that he was still holding you in his arms tightly.

“whatever the chica bella says.”

he put you down.

“aren’t you going to turn on some light? i feel like i’ve gone blind!” Alex exclaimed jokingly and you giggled.

“i’m like a bat, i hate much light, sorry. buuuut i could turn on this little lamp.” you said, making your way to your desk and turning on a cute little lamp the shade of warm pink.

“perfect.” Alex said, eyeing you in light now. you thought he’ll make a comment about your awful mascara-stained face, but he said nothing, just smiling and looking at you in awe, like you were some princess in a ball dress instead of a tired college student in messy shorts, an oversized t-shirt and two different socks, because you couldn’t find a pair of the same ones.

“perfect.” he repeated, shrugging with a smile on his face, like seeing you was everything he needed.

you laughed and hugged him, muttering a “thanks for coming”. Alex didn’t hesitate and also hugged you, holding you as close as possible, as if he let go of you, he’d drown and would never come back to be by your side again.

little did you know, he felt the exact same way.

#quackity #quackity x reader #quackity imagines #quackity imagine #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Northern Exposure | Something in the Air

❄ Part 1 of the mini-series ❄

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I started this ages ago and finally got the energy to finish, it’s four parts and provided my life doesn’t continue to fuck around I should have em all up in the next days. Also as always, cracking away at all the other fics I’ve hooked you into.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days were short and the nights long. So far north, time seemed not to exist as you chased the fleeting sun with your lens. Your existence was only demarcated by the fortnightly delivery of supplies left at your door as you were often out pursuing an elusive snow fox or wakeful owl. The world seemed small up here and you felt like the only person left alive.

Perched up on a branch precariously, you teetered as you focused your camera at its end. It was the perfect composition, snow blurred in the background as you focus on the scratching along the bark, the remnants of some owl or smaller critter. An abstract in your series, certainly, but interesting nonetheless. Besides, your editor would be happy enough with the close up you’d captured of a reindeer, its antlers the focal point of the shot.

Content, you climbed down, barely keeping yourself from slipping entirely down the trunk to a crash landing. Back on the ground, your boots sank into the snow, halfway up your calf, and you capped the lens of your camera. You tucked it under your parka and glanced around at the sparse grey trees.

Your eyes flew up as you heard a snap in branches not far from those you stood beneath. You held your breath and listened. It might be another opportunity. The early flight of an owl. You followed the sound, your steps muffled by the snowy carpet below. But that natural silence of the arctic returned and you ended up searching for air. Not a noise.

You sighed and turned back to look at the horizon. It was growing dark and you were best to return to your little cabin before long. It would be a moonless night and without the silver guardian above, it would make a nocturnal trek even harder. As you took a step, it seemed to echo and you stopped again. Your ears perked up and you shifted your hat to hear a bit better.

There was nothing. You frowned and turned. Only the snow and the trees against the greying sky. You shrugged off your unusual paranoia and carried on. You took the treacherous path back to your remote habitat. It was just you and your cameras; you and the north. An assignment you’d loathed at first but come to cherish. Isolation had a keen way of introducing one’s self to them.

You stepped up onto the small porch, the aluminum roofing and the tarnished and dented siding made it seem like little more than a lost shed. There was a single room inside, a small bed with a woven blanket, a wooden counter with an old basin and a stove top run on gas. The out house was further back, hard to find in a storm, but as long as you counted your steps, you rarely got lost.

You pushed through and turned the wooden latch that held the door shut. You untied your boots on the salt-stained rubber mat and left them there as you hung your damp, cold parka and shed your thick snow pants. You took off your hat and gloves and left them on the small shelf beneath the hook.

You took out a can of chili and dumped it in the small scratched pan. You lit the burner and sat on the single chair built of logs as you waited for it to warm. The wind swept up outside the shuttered windows and you shivered. You went to the small woodstove and twisted the iron handle of the door. You carefully built a fire as the smell of your dinner filled the cabin.

You left the door of the stove open to heat up the place and turned off the burner. You moved the pot onto the counter and took a bowl from the cupboard. A distant clatter sounded from outside. You frowned and kept yourself from grabbing the pot. You sighed as the noise repeated.

Several times before the wind had torn open the outhouse door and slammed it back and forth throughout the night. One time, it had been a curious bear. You hoped for the former as you shoved your feet into your boots and haphazardly pulled on your jacket. In and out. You’d secure the door and be back for your dinner before it got cold.

Outside, the sky had almost darkened entirely. You clicked on the flashlight you kept by the door and shut it behind you. You stomped down into the snow and squinted at the circle of light as you rounded the edge of the house. You neared the outhouse and sighed as you found it locked up tight. It couldn’t have been your imagination; you’d heard something.

You huffed and turned back. You swept the flashlight back and forth as you searched for a creature sneaking around or whatever item the wind had tried to carry away. There was nothing. You followed your footprints back to the house and climbed up the steps.

The door was open and you noticed the much larger puddled footprint on the porch too late. The fire had been snuffed and the single lantern was dead. Your wrist was grabbed as you tried to angle the flashlight around the room and you were drawn inside and pinned against the door.

A cold barrel pressed to your chin and your eyes widened. Your arm was twisted up until the flashlight blinded you and lit the unfamiliar face before you. You blinked and shook your head helplessly.

“Quite the hiding spot,” The deep voice added to the icy nip of the air.

“What--”

“Don’t try to act dumb. It might’ve worked with Wilson but not me.” He snarled and you released the flashlight as you tried to wriggle free. “Stop!”

The light fell to the floor and bounced as he wrenched your arm up and pushed the gun harder under your chin.

“I have orders to take you alive… if I can,” he sneered, “doesn’t mean I will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grunted as he had you on tip toes against the wall, the flash light rolled on the floor and sent shadows around the room, “I’m not… I’m not whoever you think I am.”

“Save it, Ursa,” he hissed and pulled you away from the wall, gun still taut to your skin, “0r should I say Astur.”

“No, no, it’s not me,” you pleaded, confused as he turned you away from him and angled you towards the bed, the muzzle now pressed to the back of your head. “I’m just a photographer. You’ll see. Look through my stuff. It’s just cameras and photos. It’s--”

“Shut up,” he pushed on the back of your knees with his, “on your stomach.”

You got down, barely able to see and unwilling to resist with a bullet waiting behind you. He pushed you into the mattress until you were still. He pulled back the gun and planted his knee on your back as he held you down. He holstered his firearm then pulled your arm back behind you and then the other. He used a zip tie to secure your hands there before he did the same to your ankles.

He carefully stepped back and you turned your head to watch his shadow. He didn’t bother with the flashlight as he closed the door. Then he turned and kicked the light so it cracked and the bulb died. He sat in the chair, it groaned dangerously under him.

You could see little of him as all light was gone but for the sudden glow of a screen before him. You only saw the glint of his blue eyes before he put it against his cheek. You turned onto your side and he growled.

“Don’t even think of moving,” he warned. “Hey,” he spoke into the speaker. “I just sent the coordinates. Target secured.” He listened, “by morning?”

He pulled the phone away and dimmed the screen. You could only hear the wind as he sat there and you sensed his unwavering gaze in the dark. With your jacket undone and your boots untied, you felt the draft that blew through the cabin walls. You shivered and he let out a thick breath. A snarl almost.

“I really don’t know what’s going on,” you said.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I mean it. You have to look. Look around, you’ll see,” you pleaded.

He snorted and didn’t move. You rolled your eyes helplessly and another chill ran through you.

“Please--”

“I already looked. When you were out climbing trees,” he intoned. “I saw the photos. Very thorough reconnaissance.”

“What? Pictures of birds and snowflakes?” You uttered.

“You’re good. That whole innocent ploy is convincing,” you heard his boot drag over the wooden floor, “almost.”

You deflated, your wrists chafed and your teeth chattered.

“You gonna wait all night… for whoever that was?”

“I’m tired of telling you to shut up.”

“You leave me like this, I’ll freeze to death. You too.”

“I won’t,” he said, “you might.”

“You said you had orders.”

“Circumstantial,” he countered.

You exhaled deeply and bent your legs as you tried to curl into yourself. He tutted and stood, the floor creaked. The stove door whined and you heard the iron poker against the kindling. He mumbled as he relit the fire and stirred it until the biggest log caught. He rose and set aside the poker and resumed his seat.

The fire’s amber haze limned his figure in the dark. His broad shoulders were wider than the back of the chair, his long hair poked out from beneath a wool cap, and his hand formed a tight fist on the arm. He leaned his head back and sniffed.

“There,” he said sharply, “nice and cozy.”

You wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. You pulled on your wrists and ankles and only caused your hands and feet to throb. You grunted and relented, resigning yourself to lay listless atop the thin mattress.

“You’re wasting your time--”

“I’m about to shove your sock in your mouth so I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he barked.

You gulped and closed your eyes in surrender. Well, maybe his friends would realise his mistake. Or maybe they’d just add to your predicament.

❄

You didn’t really sleep, you languished. The man didn’t either. You could tell. He just watched. Frighteningly patient as the night critters made a ruckus outside. He barely even moved as you fidgeted, your shoulders sore and your legs cramping.

Then there was a sudden change that even you felt. A heavy pair of boots climbed up onto the porch and the handle jiggled, the door stopped by the wooden latch. The man rose and crossed to the door. You heard the subtle brush of fabric and metal as he pulled out his gun. He pulled open the door slowly, at the ready, the slightly lesser dark seeping in.

“Sooner than I thought,” the man greeted his comrade. Your heart froze as another set of footfalls followed. A third man entered behind the second.

“Jesus, why are you sitting here in the dark?” The third man asked, “there a light or something?”

“She’s on the bed.” The first man grumbled. “Only a rifle hidden under there. I already disarmed it.”

The sudden electric glow of the lantern bloomed to life. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you stared at the three men. There were all big, all broad-shouldered, all stood like soldiers as they communed around the only chair. The third, the one who’d clicked the lantern on, neared you.

“She’s putting on a front, but--” the first man began and the third one raised his hand to silence him as he knelt by the bed.

He had a kind face, his brown eyes were warm, and the finely trimmed goatee lent him a sense of lightheartedness. His expression however was hard and turned to confusion then disappointment as he held the lantern close and grabbed your chin, turning your head back and forth.

“Not her,” he released you and stood, “fucking Christ, Bucky. It’s not fucking her.”

The second man snorted, “really?”

“It’s gotta be--” the first insisted, “the gun--”

“For hunting,” you said dully, “not that I do much of that. I use it to scare away the wolves.”

“Shut up.” He snarled and crossed his arms as he turned his back to you, “you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t forget the woman who nearly slit my throat. Twice.” The other said, “and really? A single rifle? You think that’s all she’d have?”

“She has photos too. The bunker, due north. She’s got dozens.” The first insisted.

“Bunker?” You whispered.

“I’m not going to tell you to shut it again,” the man turned as he raised a hand and the blond, the one who hadn’t said much at all, caught his wrist.

“Hey,” the other man warned, “she’s innocent. She probably has no idea what she was taking pictures of.”

“Yeah, but now she knows our faces. No doubt recognizes you, pretty boy,”tThe third offered, “and idiot here assaulted her and tied her up.”

“All the way up here? Who’s she gonna tell?” The blonde returned.

“She has a radio,” The first, Bucky offered. “It’d be enough to give us away.”

“They’d believe her? If she’s been up here long, they might not.” The blonde glanced over the others shoulder, “you apologize and we can--”

“You really wanna leave another loose end?” Bucky challenged as he blocked his gaze.

“You should’ve confirmed before you jumped,” the third huffed.

“If we’re not gonna leave her, what do we do?” The blonde asked.

They all went silent. They looked at each other and then you. Bucky raised his gun, still in hand, and the blond caught him again. He shook his head and tisked.

“Are you crazy?” He pushed his hand down, “We’re not killing her. She didn’t do anything.”

“I agree, she shouldn't die because you’re stupid,” the other chuckled.

“Well, Einstein,” Bucky snipped, “what do you suggest?”

The third man’s brows raised slowly and he tilted his head. He glanced at you again then back to his comrades. He shrugged and a grin spread across his face.

“The bunker. It’s empty. Safe.” He said quietly, “How much of a fight did she put up?”

“Enough of one,” Bucky muttered.

“She’s… not bad. She’s all alone up here. Even if someone noticed she went radio silent, it’d have to take a while,” he explained.

“What are you saying?” The blonde frowned.

“If she has the photos, if she knows where the bunker is and this moron’s blurted out some intel, I just know it,” he continued, “we can’t let her go. He’s at least right about that. So… we don’t wanna kill her, we keep her.”

“Keep her? For what?” Bucky scoffed.

The man was silent and winked at them. The blonde peeked over at you and Bucky dropped his head as he gripped his hip.

“Come on, you guys,” he threw up his hand as the blonde shifted on his feet. “It’s fucking cold up here and it’s been awful lonely everywhere else. We’re running around with no finish line in sight and… well, I’m about to stab one of you and I’ve seen the way you,” he pointed at Bucky, “look at me. I don’t trust that.”

“You can’t mean--” the blonde muttered.

“She’s better off dead,” Bucky insisted.

“Just because you’re a monk, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be.”

“Hmm,” the blonde tapped his toe.

“You’re not really considering this?” Bucky sneered.

“Well… why not?” He rasped, “She’s… alone and… not too bad on the eyes.”

“And I have ears!” You sat up awkwardly, “You want me to keep my mouth shut. Done. I’m up here trying to catch a few birds on a roll. I’m not here to get mixed up in whatever it is you three--” You blinked as the lantern shone in the blond’s face as the three men turned to you, “shit.”

Captain America’s eyes sparked with recognition as your head did the same. He knew you knew who he was; likely he saw that look every other day. There was no hiding it.

“I told you,” the third man chided, “that mug is hard to forget.”

“No, no, I don’t-- I won’t tell a soul. I swear. Please just whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I’m some dumb photographer they sent up here to document the snow. You really think anyone cares that much--”

“Not so much about you but those photos are pretty interesting,” Bucky neared and shoved you down and you barely kept from hitting your head on the wall, “don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“People go missing up here all the time. That’s why no one’s here,” the brown-eyed man said, “she’ll just be another and we’ll have a nice companion to keep us from killing each other.”

“No,” Bucky turned, “it’s my mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

“Put the gun away, Buck,” Steve Rogers ordered, “it’s not right. We can’t kill her. Even if she isn’t entirely innocent, even if you’re right about those photos. She’s better to us alive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going along with this--”

“I’m the captain,” Steve insisted. “I’ve made up my mind and I’m giving you an order. Sam’s right. She’s more use alive. If she has information, we’ll get it out of her. And if she doesn’t well, we can find something else to do with her.”

Bucky swore and pushed his gun into his holster. He stepped away from you and shouldered past the one called Sam.

“Yes, captain,” he said dryly.

“Sergeant,” Steve retorted and nodded to Sam, “get her up. We should leave before the sun rises.”

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hockeywhhores · 3 years

Text

just friends?- m. tkachuk

Matthew Tkachuk x f!Reader

summary~ Matthew is your best friend, but you both want to be more.

warnings~ friends to lovers, swearing, alcohol consumption, fight, implied sex

genre~ friends to lovers, fluff with some angst

word count~ 3.3K

masterlist

Growing up next in the house next to the Tkacuk’s meant there were never any dull moments. You have been playing with Matthew, Brady, and Taryn since you could talk. Matthew was the one who taught you how to ice skate, Brady taught you how to understand American football, and you ended up teaching Taryn how to put on makeup.

Matthew was even there when your first date had stood you up. When he came you were so embarrassed about being stood up and wanted to leave, but he made you stay and ‘fixed’ your date. Really he just bought you some dinner, and then you guys went back to his house and watched a movie with his siblings. At night when you started overthinking about why your date had stood you up; he held you in his arms, and let you cry on his shoulder. Matthew made sure you knew it wasn’t because you were ugly, which you insisted that it was, by telling you how beautiful you looked. You wrote him off, because that’s what your best friend is supposed to say.

When Matthew was drafted, he insisted that you applied to colleges in Calgary. Just to ease his mind you applied to all different colleges around Calgary, and even got in. Matthew offered to share his apartment, but you decided to live in the dorms. You both knew that wasn’t really going to happen, and were right. You spent more time in his apartment than in your dorm. Your toothbrush was in his bathroom and your shampoo and conditioner were in his shower. You slept in the guest room, and whenever his family came to Canada you slept in his bed, with him. His parents would take the guest room.

You were just friends. You were reminded of that when girls would flirt with him in bars, and he would let them. You always pushed away every jealous thought. Matthew wasn’t yours, so that makes whoever is flirting with him not your problem. The team had no problem making little chirps at the two of you being in love, but at least they only did so when you were alone. Some random guy ended up on the stool next to you. He ordered a beer and started watching one of the TVs. “Come here often?” He asked you, as he looked back towards you.

“Do you ask every girl that?” you questioned him with a small chuckle.

“Only the pretty one’s,” He smirked at you, “My name’s Asher.” he said, extending his hand.

“y/n” you smiled at him and shook his hand. As corny as his introduction was, you couldn’t help but think he was cute. His blue eyes stood out, they weren’t like Matthew’s ,light blue eyes, they are a deep blue. His ashy brunette hair looked super soft, and fell slightly across his forehead. Asher looked tired, but interested in you.

“Well what do you do, Miss. y/n?” he asked you, his voice sounding deep.

“I’m a college student by day, and a mysterious girl that hangs out in bars by night.” You say so casually, wanting to mess with him a little bit. Purposely not telling him you were here with the few Flames’ players that were around.

“Well I think you're doing great at being the mysterious girl that hangs out in bars very well.” Asher's voice was smooth like honey. “I’m an editor for CalgarySun.” you could listen to him talk for hours.

“Wow, and I caught your eye?” you playfully asked him.

“How could you not have?” He asked you sounding serious. “Do you want another drink?” he noticed your drink was getting low.

“If you don’t mind. I would love another drink.” you smiled. You felt like an idiot with all the smiling you were doing. Asher ended up buying you two more drinks before you got a text that Matthew ordered himself an Uber and you could share with him if you wanted to. Deciding to save the money, and take a ride with him. You said goodbye to your new friend, Asher. Numbers were exchanged and with that you left.

When you got outside you found Matthew walking the girl to her Uber, but he didn’t get in with her. The girl’s Uber left with her in it, and Matthew turned around to find you watching him. He gestures for you to come stand by him, and you did.

“Why didn’t you go with her?” You were the first one to speak.

“She obviously only liked me, because she recognized me. Fucking groupie was what she was.” You heard the frustration in his voice. It struck you as odd, about how he never took girls back to his apartment. You always told him you would go back to your dorms for the night, but he refused. Those moments made you feel bad for being there all the time.

A red car pulled up to the curb, and Matthew seemed to recognize it. You heard the driver ask if he was Matthew, and when he got a ‘yes’, he unlocked the doors. Matthew opened the door for you, and you slightly crawled inside the backseat. Thankfully you were wearing jeans, so you didn’t flash anyone. The ride back was just like any other. Matthew and you would talk about little things, and when it got quiet you listened to the radio that was lightly playing in the background. It only got quiet in between new topics. But like a blink of an eye the ride was over, and you were in front of his apartment.

Matthew opened the door for you, and you both went your separate ways. You went to the bathroom to take off your makeup and he went to his bedroom to change his clothes. After you were both done you switched, and he went to the bathroom while you changed. Walking into the room you now occupy in his apartment, the first thing you noticed was the mess you had made while getting ready for a night out. You signed and started straightening up before you gave up, and just put on your pajamas, which was an old shirt Matthew gave to you and some sweatpants. You heard the TV turn on and knew Matthew wasn’t going to be going to bed anytimes soon. You decided to join him.

Matthew was watching some Avengers movie, and you just signed and laid on the couch. He let you put your legs on top of his; letting you lay down on the couch. You phone vibrated on the coffee table. The light makes it hard to ignore. It went off again, so you just got up to answer it. You smiled when you noticed that Asher had texted you. Matthew tried to pay you no mind, and continued to watch the movie he picked out, but he couldn’t stop thinking about who would be texting you at midnight on a Saturday.

Matthew knew he should make his feelings known, but there was so much going against how could you two ever work out? He got labeled a borderline dirty player, a fuckboy, and was told he didn’t know how to manage his anger, and he was okay with it. He didn’t let it bother him. But if he ever lost you, because of his stupid feelings, he would never forgive himself. You were too precious to lose, and he could never risk it, so he hid his feelings.

After the movie was over Matthew looked over and saw that you had fallen asleep with your phone next to you. He gently moved your legs, trying his hardest to not wake you up. When he successfully got up, without disturbing you, he picked you up and carried you bridal style. He quietly tucked you into your bed, and went back to the living room to grab your phone. All he was going to do was plug it in for you, but couldn't help himself when he saw that some guy named Asher had been the one texting you. Matthew felt jealous boil up inside him, but he just plugged your phone in and left. You weren’t his, and oh how he wanted that to change.

Both of you didn’t wake up until late into the afternoon, and by that time lunch was more socially acceptable than breakfast. Matthew ordered some chinese take out, to help with both your hangovers. They weren’t bad, but Chinese take could cure anything. You came out looking a slight mess, but Matthew thought you gorgeous anyway. Your hair was all knotted, your clothes were wrinkled, and you had no makeup on. If Matthew was being honest he would pick this version of you over any supermodel that DMed him.

“Good mornin’.”your raspy, just-woke-up voice rang out across the apartment. You smiled at him, and looked confused when he did answer you. All he could think of was, who was ‘Asher’ and why was he texting you last night?

“Morning. I ordered some take out.” Matthew said back to you when he came to his sinuses.

“You are my savior!” you giggled out. Before things could get too awkward there was a knock on the door.

“That’s probably it right now.” he stated as he walked to the door. It was in fact the food, and you went to grab some silverware, and plates to help out. You also made both of you water bottles. You heard Matthew say a quick ‘thank you’ before the door closed, and he held up the big paper bag of food out as a way of showing you. You giggled and took the silverware, plates, and water bottles to the coffee table. Matthew followed behind you with the food.

“When is your next game?” you questioned him. You needed to know what night you weren’t really going to be sleeping.

“Tomorrow, we get to stay home for the next four game, I think.” Matthew got out between taking bites of the noodles he put on his plate. “What do you want to watch?” he questioned you back.

“Umm...want to watch ‘The Good Doctor’?” you threw out between your bites of chicken.

“Sounds good to me.” he smiled at you. You knew liking your best friend was cliche, but if you pretended there wasn’t anything there; there was nothing there, right?

After eating and watching hulu, you decided it would be a good idea to get some of the homework you didn’t want to actually do, done. Matthew kepting talking to you while you sat at the really dining room table, that you never actually used, typing away on your laptop. Then he would go back and continue on doing whatever he was doing. While he was sitting on the couch in the living room, you got a great view of his face. You looked at him, you mean you really looked at him. Your heart started beating a little bit faster and your cheeks got hot. When he smiled at his show, you felt yourself wanting to smile. You never realized how domesticated this really was. You never realized how you could live with him, like this, forever. You just noticed how much you were going to miss his soft singing when he was in the shower, and his little mannerisms that made your heart beat faster. How he held every door he could open for you.

You thought back to when you were stood up. You thought about how he wouldn't let you go home. How he made you stay so he could give you a ‘proper date’. How he insisted that it wasn’t because you were ugly, and you were actually the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Did he just say that because that was what best friends said? Did he feel the same feelings towards the other, like you did? No. There was no way he felt the same.

The lazy day ended and you both had to go back to your normal lives. Monday was upon you, and Matthew had a game, and you had class. You were dressed in black jeans, and a flames crewneck tha Matthew gave you to wear around Calgary so people knew you were on the right side of the ‘Battle of Alberta’. Matthew was gone before you had your coffee made. You saw the note he left stating that he was going to go do some laps, and hang out with the team. After your coffee was done you locked up his apartment, and left for class.

Class was boring, but you and Matthew texted so that made things better. Your plans for the night are to now attend his game, that was getting played against the Canucks. No complaints were going to be heard from you. You loved going to watch his games.

The night came quicker than expected, and you were rushing around his apartment trying to find your jersey, that of course had his last name on it, but it was nowhere to be seen. Looking at your watch you decided that if you didn’t leave now then you were never going to make it before puck drop. Last minute decision was made, and you just grabbed one of the many jerseys he had in his closet. The jersey was several sizes too big, but you didn’t mind.

Luck was on your side, because you were somehow able to make it to your seat in time before the game started. You only have to wait a minute before the lineup is being called. Matthew looked to where you always sat, with most of the wags, and smiled bigger when he saw you sitting there in his jersey. You smiled and gave him a slight wave. The game was brutal to say the least. Whenever the Flames were able to score, the Canucks scored right after them. Nevermind all the chirping going on between the two teams, especially Matthew and Jake Virtanen. They were going after each other, and no one was able to keep them apart long enough. You thought everything was going to blow over, but then the gloves were dropped. You stood up in shock, and you were also trying to get a better view. Whenever Matthew got in fights your blood ran cold, and your hands got sweaty.

The referees got everything sorted out, and they both got pentilites. The game stayed close, 3-3, and it was now going into overtime. You could tell how frustrated Matthew was. Overtime came and went, and then shootout time was up. After two misses, it was Matthew’s turn. Your hands got even more sweaty. Then in a blink-and-you’ll-miss it type of moment, Matthew scored for the Flames. You had to sit through the Canucks last shot, but thankfully Markstrom gloved it before it could go in. You could feel the energy that was put back into Saddledome.

As everyone leaves the stadium you stay in your seat, waiting for everything to clear out a little bit. When it looked clear enough you headed to the hallway where most of the wags were already there. You kept to yourself, and quietly waited for Matthew. When the team came out everyone was congratulating them. When Matthew saw you we went straight to you. You saw him a second before he was in front of you, and jumped forward engulfing Matthew in the biggest hug.

“Oh my god. You were amazing.” You smiled, so wide your cheeks hut, but he was smiling just as big. He was holding you from under your thighs, and you had your arms around his neck.

“I couldn’t have done it without you being here.” Matthew whispered in your ear. Neither of you want to let go, but you knew the guys wanted to go celebrate at some bar. So you pulled back, and you swear you saw Matthew frown, as he put you back on the ground.

Apparently the bar everyone wanted to go to was, where you went not even three days ago. Matthew bought you a shot, and you did one with him. Then he bought you one of your regular drinks. That was when you saw Asher sitting on one of the bar stools drinking a beer.

“We have got to stop meeting at this bar.” You stated when you were close enough he would be able to hear you.

“I am not going to disagree with you.” Asher tipped his beer at you and you slightly tripped your drink back at him. “Did you come in with the hockey team?” he questioned you sounding disgusted.

“Yeah. I did. Is that a problem?” you softly asked him

“I bet you’re just some groupie, who likes men that have money and a title.” He accused you. His words were slurred, and you knew he was drunk.

“What did you just say to her?” Matthew angrily spit out. ‘Oh shit’ was the only thing going through your head.

“Oh you both heard me. I saw her get into an Uber with your Saturday night. Right after she was done flirting with me and using me for drinks.” Asher spit out just as angrily but way more intoxicated.

“Both of you stop it!” you yelled out, “Well fuck. Matthew meet Asher, Asher meet Matthew, my friend.” you tried to get everything to settle down, but after you called Matthew your friend, you saw him get even more angry, if that was even possible.

“I don’t care what your relationship is to him. Why the hell did you leave flirting with a guy to get in some other guy’s Uber.” Asher was trying to dominate over you by standing tall and looking down at you. You hated this. You wish you and Matthew just went home instead of go to this stupid bar.

“Back the fuck up, Buddy.” Matthew spits out, “y/n come on. We are going home.” Matthew grabbed your arm and dragged you to his car. It wasn’t really a drag as you were willingly leaving with him, he was just holding your arm.

The car ride was completely silent, the radio not even playing, and no one wanted to speak. When you got back to his apartment was when all hell broke loose.

“So that was Asher? What an outstanding guy.” Matthew was enraged and couldn’t help with throwing out that comment.

“How the hell did you know about Asher?” you asked confused.

“I saw your phone, when I plugged it in for you, and made sure you were tucked into bed. Like a friend would do.” Matthew wrinkled his nose at you.

“Why do you care about the guys I’m texting! You can literally get any girl you want!” you protested.

“I care because I love you! Have you ever seen me take any of those girls back here? No, that's because I was trying to show you I’m not some asshole. I love you dammit.” Matthew professed everything in that one response. Everything was said, and neither of you could take it back. The pause that followed put both of you on edge.

“I love you too.” you whispered out. “I only want to be next to you, and when I’m in class I can’t wait to see you when we grab lunch together or when you hold my legs in your lap when we are watching movies. I love you. I love you so much.” your eyes were watering with all of the emotions coming out of you. Matthew ran up and pulled up into his arms, holding you like he was at the stadium. Then he leaned in and kissed you. It felt like time stopped, everything was still, except for you and him. You couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of you.

You woke up for the first time in his bed with no clothes on. Matthew was already up and was watching. His grip was firm like if he let you go, he would never see you again. Nothing felt better at that moment.

finished.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew tkachuk x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #Matthew tkachuk angst #Matthew tkachuk fluff #Matthew tkachuk smut #brady tkachuk

300 notes · View notes

eugenesmorphine · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can I request for some Ronald Speirs with a women from an enemy side,like a german nurse/prisoner smth like that😁

AN: I have returned. I know, from the hole of depression and school. I hope to be more active, so imagines will be coming out more. This one isn't my best since i'm trying to get back into the swing of things. But, regardless, I hope you enjoy.

First Sightings // A Ronald Speirs Imagine

Words: 2,365

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @ricksmorty @punkgeekcryptid !@hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @valterras @adamantiumdragonfly

It was early within the morning when Easy Company quietly invaded a small town overtaken by the German army. About three in the morning to be exact. Hiding beneath the cover of the darkened sky, the moonlight shining down dully between the trees and clouds.

The town had been converted into a small base, or headquarters for the Germans. Most of the homes were clearly not in use as the enemy had forced the remaining habitants out from their homes. Just a few homes were being used at barracks, and it seemed like the small town hall had been used as their aid station.

Four officers took a knee on a hill whilst using the brush as cover. Winters, Speirs, Nixon, and Compton all kneeled within a small line, close together, staring down their own scopes. Ronald Speirs pulled his scope down first and let out a scoff. Causing the three other Paratrooper officers to lower their scopes to turn towards the officer.

“Only a few guards posted out on a few balconies. For being such a “strong force”, they’re situational awareness seems to be at an all time low,” he whispered. Winters let out a quiet chuckle and turned back to the front. Bringing the scope back up to his eye. Peering over to what seemed to be their aid station. Small jeeps continued to pour in and out hourly to drop off wounded Nazi soldiers. Two nurses continued to rush in and out. Same two nurses each time. Blood covered the aprons and dresses they wore, along with their hands. It was clear even from a decent distance away.

“Looks like that aid station is quite busy. Just two nurses it seems though, got to be careful of them,” Winters stated quietly. To which Ronald just scoffed again.

“Why would they ever decide to side with them? To nurse those son’s of a bitches back to health just to come and kill our men?” Ronald asked. His eyes now steadying on the nurses in the distance. Nixon was the one to pipe up this time.

“A lot of them don’t make the choice themselves. Some of them don’t have a choice. Kind of like how we draft men. They’re people just like us. They don’t want to kill our men, the soldiers do. They merely just want to get home. Just like us,” he told him. Nixon was right. And Ronald knew that, but he didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t going to, because he wasn’t that type of man. So instead, he didn’t.

“They all have a choice. Just like us,” Speirs responded. Keeping his opinion voiced. Gritting his teeth. Nixon went to sarcastically respond, but Winters clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back slightly. The location officer turned to look at his higher up. And Winters just shook his head. Knowing that his dear friend Ronald Spiers wouldn’t give up his opinion. Making the “come along” motion and quietly walking away. Nixon just sighed and followed his tail closely.

Speirs sat alone for a bit longer. His dark eyes staring down at that aid station.Watching the two nurses now standing outside as they washed blood soaked linens and bed sheets in old horse troughs filled with water. “Yeah, we all have a choice,” he repeated below his breath. Knowing no one would hear him. A small grunt came from his chapped lips and he stood up quietly. Grabbing his Thompson and turning around to follow his fellow officers back to their foxholes. They were to be invading soon, he just needed to prepare a bit.

///

It didn’t take long to take over the small base. Maybe an hour, and only minor wounds and just one fatal casualty. Speirs and the other officers had been working with the rest of the Paratroopers to take care of the prisoners and organize them to take them to the holding base.

Ronald had been hanging back a bit, just watching over the small process of everything they were doing. It was going smoothly. Until one thing popped into his mind. His back straightened and his head went up. He looked up at all the groups of captured Nazis, and even around at the bodies. They weren’t there. Where were the nurses?

In a flash he turned and began to briskly walk towards that aid station. He didn’t see their pale blue dresses and white aprons anywhere. Even as he searched while he walked. His eyes fell back towards the building where medical supplies had been being hauled out crate by crate. But still no nurses. He grumbled slightly and picked up his pace. Pushing past some soldiers and walking through the large wooden doors. Pausing when he saw a bunch of bodies laying down with sheets over their heads. Clearly the men the nurses were trying to save. He huffed and looked up. Seeing a group of men with their guns pointed at one of the nurses. The other one is still yet to be seen. The nurse with the soldiers around her all peered down at her. Her hands behind her head in surrender.

“Please, please let me see if I can help her,” she pleaded through a strong German accent. Ronald pursued closer. Wondering what she was bantering about. But as he walked closer, the officer was quick to understand. The other nurse, a pretty blonde woman, had been laying on her side. A pool of blood coming from her stomach. Ronald’s eyes widened. As much as he hated the Nazis, and what he had stated to the fellow officers, this was a war crime. And the sound of the other H/C nurse crying didn’t make him feel any better.

“Was this any of your bullets?” he asked sternly. Snapping his head towards the group of paratroopers, and weeping woman who still knelt on the wooden floor of the church. The woman was dead already, her body already beginning to turn ghost white, while the blood had stopped flooding from the wood. And her breath could not be heard. The downed nurse’s chest did not rise, nor fall.

The young paratroopers jumped at the menacing officer. Swallowing fast as they all shook their heads. One decided to finally speak up. “The woman was on the ground before we came in here, sir. We heard a gunshot and some German and rushed in here. The little lady was on the floor bleeding out, and a Kraut standing with a gun to this one’s head. He is over there,” he spoke, pointing to the dead German who was slumped against a wall. His head bent over, as he too was dead.

“They are speaking the truth, it was the German soldier that had shot her. I was next, they thought that we were the ones that had been giving information to you Americans when you first stormed here,” she paused as she tried to look away from her dead friend. Tears continued to pour down her face. “Please, I am not a threat. I had no choice but to be a nurse. I want nothing from this war. They would have killed me if I didn’t. Please, I do not want to die,” her English was broken. But so was her voice. Ronald stood there for a moment, wondering what he should do. She seemed sincere. And genuinely scared.

“I’ll bring her to Roe, he could probably use the help,” was all Speirs said. Leaving the men a little shocked. The woman slowly stood and wiped her eyes. Briskly walked past the corpses of her fellow nurse, and the rest of the bodies that were within the church. Following the paratrooper officer closely. Her flats hit the mud that was outside of the church, splashing up her legs and all over her shoes. She chose to ignore it for then, keeping silent as she walked behind the cold faced officer.

They walked in silence for quite a bit. The young nurse felt as if she was in fact a prisoner. The stares of the other Americans, her eyes stayed focused in front of her. Staring at Speir’s back.

Speirs had gotten sick of the silence. He was one for it, but sometimes it was boring. And with this woman, he felt compelled to speak to her for some odd reason. Just an itch that he wanted to at least learn her name. “What is your name, little lady?” he asked bluntly. To which the nurse perked her head up nervously yet quickly.

“My name is Y/N L/N. May I ask you yours, Army Man?” She responded. Ronald nodded to himself. Taking in her words and taking a deep breath. Rounding a corner of one of the run down buildings, continuing to head towards the aid station where the other medics had been stationed.

“My name is Ronald Speirs, Captain Speirs is what you can call me,” he responded. Y/N sat there and practiced the name under her breath. Repeating it quietly until she had gotten it right.

“You have a nice name, Captain Speirs,” she complimented. Making Ronald’s ends of his lips quirk upwards with a smile. He didn’t even realize he did it. “I wanted to thank you, and your men. For not killing me. You must know that it wasn’t our-” she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t my choice to be this way and help the Nazi party. Many people were trapped under the work of the Nazis. Many men and women did sign up for the role for the fatherland, but many were forced, sir,” she tried to explain. Y/N was merely afraid of the worst. To be sent away and jailed, or killed. “All I wanted was my family to be safe,” she finished.

Ronald stayed silent for a moment. He remembered what he said to Winters, Welsh, and Nixon. He knew the truth, and he was just an angry type of man. But with how this young woman said certain things, how scared she sounded, how she wept and begged when they first entered that church. It made his eyes open just a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” he asked bluntly. Y/N just lifted her head a little confused at the question. She had been thinking that she was a prisoner of sorts. She didn’t exactly know how she would be treated, but definitely not like this. To be asked if she was hungry, unlike when she worked for the Germans. They pretty much told her when she was to eat, sleep, drink, use the bathroom. It was odd hearing the question after a while of just being given so many orders she was forced to do.

The young nurse didn’t understand the truth of the Americans. She wished for liberation. Prayed for it even. She was still scared she would be arrested or killed. Much like what the Russians did to the German forces. But with the company of the rather quiet, intimidating officer gave her a bit of comfort. Especially from the looks of all the men that the two walked by. The hatred filled the eyes of some, who just screamed out to blame her for helping the Germans. Y/N merely tried to ignore it, just swallowing hard and looking forward. Continuing to step through the mud.

///

When Ronald had brought Y/N to Eugene , Eugene stared up at her with surprise. “Doc, this is Y/N, she is a nurse. She is going to help you out with the wounded for now. I’m going up to HQ to figure out if we are sending her with the other prisoners or not,” he reported. Eugene just gave a respectful nod towards the officer. Y/N took a few steps towards the medic.

“I wish to help. My English isn’t the best, but I am good with my hands. I promise,” she said softly. It seemed her voice was almost permanently soft due to the harsh cold that attacked all of the soldiers. No matter what side.

Eugene just nodded and outstretched his arm to jester to the few wounded men that sat around. Y/N didn’t hesitate, she went. Kneeling in the mud and aiding a soldier that had a large shrapnel wound across the thigh and down the leg. Muttering soft prayers within her language as she began to suppress and wrap the wound.

The Officer had found himself staring. His mind was a mess. He was a close minded, but very smart man at times. Very wise for his young age. He wanted to understand. But he knew everyone had a choice. Though, he wasn’t as angry, just wanting to understand why it made her want to protect her family in a way to help the people she hated. It was a question for another time. Ronald glanced at Roe and back to the female. “If you have any problems, let me know. But other than that, keep an eye on her,” The officer spoke to the medic. Roe gave a stiff nod and looked back at his patient. A man with a bullet wound in the shoulder. And Spiers turned around and began to walk off.

As he walked, he quickly began to feel frustration bubble within himself. The image of fear etched across Y/N’s face when he had first seen her within the church, had remained burned within his mind. This was the first time he felt genuine remorse. He couldn’t tell if it was from how pretty he had found her, or the sincerity in her begging for her life. Or was it both. He hated it. He didn’t like feeling soft. Only hard and just his normal intimidating stature of an officer in charge. He wanted to brush it off, but the remorse filled his stomach with an odd feeling. He thought he was sick at first. But instead, it was butterflies. He hated it. He didn’t know why he was feeling it. But he was.

A story of love at first sight. And he didn’t know it. And neither did she.

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