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faulty-writes · 3 years

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Alright, this was actually sitting in my Google docs for a month or two. But I finally finished it, that being said. I hope you enjoy it!

WARNING: This fanfiction contains manga spoilers.

[ You met Tomura when you were attempting to run away from two bullies and despite witnessing one of them turn to dust by Tomura's hand. You maintained an odd but meaningful friendship with him until you were forced to relocate. Now years later, Tomura suddenly remembers you when he sees you on the news and he's determined to track you down in order to resume his friendship with you. Even if that means blackmailing you into staying. ]

"You will now be known as Tomura Shigaraki…" those were the very words that changed his life. Separated him from the rest of society and stirred that deep-seething rage within him. However, this was something you had yet to know.

Especially being the age you were when you first met the boy formerly known as Tenko Shimura. The other kids weren't so fond of him. In fact, you heard many rumors, some of which you didn't believe before you even laid eyes on him.

Like how Tomura was the neighborhood creepy kid and wore extra hands, whatever that meant. You honestly weren't sure and maybe you were just looking for trouble when you began asking questions. Like where does the creepy kid live and what makes him so scary?

The other children would provide you with answers, but their tales seemed too embellished for your liking. In fact, they sounded like something out of a fairy tale. But given the fact that the world itself was the mirror image of a comic book where most were gifted with some type of quirk.

Where heroes, villains, and vigilantes sought out their own form of justice, maybe it wasn't too far-fetched to believe some parts of the stories. Of course, even so. You understood what it was like to be considered an outcast considering your parents were well-known heroes

This, in turn, made the other kids assume you thought highly of yourself. But in reality, you didn't have that much self-confidence. But that didn't stop the other kids from bullying you which caused your fateful meeting with Tomura.

You were on your way to school when it happened. Despite your quirk being rather impressive, you still couldn't control it and your parents strictly forbid you from using it. This was in part due to the fear that if their child illegally used their quirk and harmed someone as a result. Their reputation would be ruined.

You wished you didn't feel obligated to play by the rules considering you found yourself running down the sidewalk with two bullies hot on your tail. You stumbled over your own feet a few times but forced your legs to continue carrying you.

Their mocking cries were still so close and you glanced around. Trying to figure out where you could possibly hide or at least stray them off your trail. However, you noticed that the buildings were becoming more decayed the further you ran down the sidewalk.

The normal bright red bricks you were used to seeing were now dull, covered in layers of slime and dirt. The windows to several buildings and houses were cracked or completely broken. Some even had wooden boards up in place of windows.

You slowed your pace, panting softly as you glanced at a wooden fence ahead of you. Planks of wood were sticking out crudely, only being held in place by a rusty nail or two. You glanced over your shoulder, the haunting smirks of your bullies caused another shiver down your spine and you took your chances running for the fence.

"Come on, come on!" you frantically exclaimed, trying desperately to find a space to squeeze through. You then began to pull at several planks, hoping one of them would snap off. Surely enough, after trying a few. You ended up stumbling back when one of them finally gave way.

Unfortunately, you only managed to break off half of it but there was still enough of an opening for you to climb through. "Yes!" you exclaimed in victory before tossing the now half-broken plank to the ground and quickly rose back to your feet.

It was a little difficult, but you managed to step halfway through the opening before you were suddenly pulled back. Your head smacked into the portion of the plank that had remained intact. 'Come back out you coward!' one of the bullies shouted as their grip on your wrist tightened.

"Let go of me!" you demanded as you dug your feet into the ground, you refused to get pulled back through. To be subjected to whatever unnecessary punishment they wanted to put you through. You pressed your foot against the fence and pulled with all your might.

Such was not an easy task for someone so small, but you found yourself stumbling back and onto the ground. A soft hiss came as you lifted your arm, noticing a series of deep red scratches that were left along the length of your forearm, more than likely the last attempt from your bullies to keep holding onto you.

However, this was forgotten when you saw their faces in the frame of the broken part of the fence. 'There they are! We're coming for you, Y/n!" one of them stated and you frantically got up to run. But yet again you found yourself stumbling back when you hit something and ended up back on the ground.

"H-Huh?" you frowned, feeling tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes before you saw him. He was tall and looked slightly malnourished, his skin was pale and he appeared to be hunched over. He had ear-length black hair but you couldn't see his face given the fact a hand was covering it.

Actually, several hands were covering him. Around his throat, shoulders, and down the length of his arms. You couldn't help the scream that escaped you, it was like you were looking at someone from a horror game.

'Is this...' any thoughts halted when the boy tilted his head and began to observe you. Then he lifted his arm, that's when you noticed his long thin-looking fingers and the way his nails were bitten and uneven. He took a step towards you and you closed your eyes.

Expecting to feel that hand somewhere on your body, yet he paused when he heard the commotion caused by the bullies that were kicking and punching at the wooden fence. ‘Come back out, Y/n!’ they shouted again and you felt a shiver run down your spine as you watched one of them attempt to squeeze through the opening you created.

This resulted in their body sticking halfway through. It didn't make you feel any better knowing that the fence was shaking and you suspected that at any moment, it would collapse. You turned back to...oh God. What was his name!? At that moment in your life, it didn’t matter.

You found yourself stumbling to your feet, ignoring the dirt you were covered in and those scratches on your arm that continued to sting. With no rational thought left, you reached out to grasp the front of the mysterious boy’s shirt.

You couldn’t see his facial expression, but you did notice his body language. The way his arms went back and his spine curved so he was leaning away from you as if he either didn't want you to touch him or he didn't want to touch you.

But regardless of that, you leaned close to him or as close as you could without touching the hand that was placed over his face. “Help me please!” you frantically exclaimed as your hands trembled, somewhat losing their grip on his shirt as you turned back to see someone’s foot go through one of the wooden boards that made up the fence.

You turned back and shook the boy. “Help!” you pleaded once again before feeling something hit the back of your head, you let out a cry and reached up to grasp the back of your hair. “Hey!” you shouted as you removed your remaining hand from the boy’s shirt and turned around to see the damage done to the fence.

Chunks of wood were missing and cracks were visible in several planks. The bullies were now stepping through the broken fence with wicked smiles on their faces, ‘Nowhere to run now’ one of them said as they began to stomp towards you. However, the second bully stopped them by grasping onto their shoulder.

‘Wait, look…’ they pointed towards the mysterious boy you had run into and you turned to look at him, wondering what was so wrong. He looked scary, maybe even creepy but he couldn’t be dangerous. Right? How wrong you’d find out you were.

Still, you turned your attention back on the bullies. Watching as the first one smacked that hand off their shoulder. ‘So what!? That Shigaraki is a freak! Not like he’ll do anything, come on!’ they grabbed the other's arm and beelined for you.

A whimper escaped as you took a step back, holding your hands out which seemed to catch Shigaraki's attention and he found himself observing you once more. However, this didn't last long as the leading bully proceeded to shove him out of the way.

You wanted to shout, but all sense of courage left you when one of the bullies grabbed your arm and roughly pulled you forward. You could hear the soft pops of your bone echo as your arm was stretched out.

"Let go!" you demanded as you tried to yank your arm back, but the bully seemed unphased. The second bully walked over and reached out to grab a section of your hair before giving a painful yank which caused you to let out a hiss.

‘Gonna cry?!’ they taunted. ‘Aren’t your parents pro heroes? You’re pretty weak, huh?!’ you squeezed your eyes shut, curling your free hand into a fist. You wanted to hurt them, somehow make them pay for what they were doing to you.

But if you wanted to be a future hero, violent actions wouldn’t necessarily vote well for you. So would you just have to take your beating and move on? ‘We’ll teach you to mess with us,’ you could feel that hand tighten in your hair before they stepped back.

What followed was you catching the scent of something burning and you were quick to realize it was their quirk. That's when fear overpowered your anger especially as you watched those flames in the palm of their hand grow bigger.

You squeezed your eyes shut, just waiting for the burning impact of that fire. But, it never came. Instead, you felt the grip on your arm loosen. “Huh?” you slowly cracked your eyes open and noticed the bully with the flame quirk was now backing away with their hands up. Almost as if they were scared or surrendering.

Then you turned to look at the bully who was loosely holding your arm. They looked shocked, their eyes wide and their jaw hanging open. You almost wanted to ask if they were okay when you noticed their skin and hair turning brown. Then cracks began to appear across the length of their body.

A gasp came when you then watched them turn gray and crumble to dust. Their pressure on your arm now vanished and you watched as that dust brushed over your arm and mixed with the dirt on the ground below.

You pulled your hand back, cradling it to your chest. “W-What just happened?” you muttered in disbelief, your eyes focused on that dust pile before you noticed a shadow. Swallowing, you slowly raised your head and saw the one known as 'Shigaraki' standing before you.

His hand was outstretched and you took a step back. ‘I’m getting out of here! You’re a freak man!’ your attention was now turned to the second bully who wasted no time in running in the direction they came from.

You were holding your breath as you watched them squeeze back through one of the broken sections of the fence. The echo of their steps sounded as they ran down the sidewalk and you finally let out a sigh before looking back at Shigaraki.

“Um…” you weren’t sure what to say, but he did technically save you even though you weren’t entirely sure how he did so in the first place. A gentle breeze came to carry the pile of dust away and you took a step forward.

“What was...that?" the question lingered in the air without an answer before you reached up to rub the back of your head. "T-Thanks for...saving me, I guess?” more silence filled the air and for a moment you wondered if Shigaraki could even talk, he didn’t say anything when you bumped into him and he wasn’t saying anything now.

“M-My name is…Y/n, what’s yours?” you only knew part of his name so far, but it didn’t seem like he was willing to speak to you. He only tilted his head to the side. Did he understand what you were saying, or was he observing you again?

“Uh…” you glanced to the side, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. What else could you say? You glanced down at his hands, once again reminded of how slender his fingers were and without thinking, you reached over.

Gently grasping his hand, you turned it slightly in your palm. But when you felt him tense up, you blinked and looked up. “Hm?” you were surprised that you had gotten that kind of reaction from him. “Are you...does this make you uncomfortable?” you questioned and watched as he slowly shook his head, then you heard his voice.

It was soft but scratchy, barely audible. Yet somehow you managed to understand him. “Why…” he began, making you grow more concerned as he began to tremble. “Why...are you touching me?!” the question was hissed out and you immediately dropped his hand. “S-Sorry!” you exclaimed as you held your hands up.

“I was only-” your words came to a stop when a shadowy figure appeared behind Shigaraki, while you weren’t sure what or who it was. You felt an intense wave of fear wash over you and tried to fight the feeling of your stomach twisting into knots.

More than likely that was your gut feeling telling you to run far away despite the fact of not knowing what you were seeing, but then the shadow spoke. “Tomura…” it said and you recognized the voice as belonging to a male, but his tone was deep and held a certain amount of authority to it that you knew shouldn’t be crossed.

So you remained quiet and latched onto your lip. But your eyes never left the shadowed man. But the sound of Tomura’s voice was distracting and caused you to turn your attention towards him and maybe you were too young to understand why he called the man, “Master.”

But either way, you felt small at that moment and brought your hands up to your chest. You watched as the man Tomura called 'master' reached down to laid his rather large hand against the top of his head.

“You did well,” the man said before his eerie laughter filled the air, making you take a step back. But you ended up stumbling over your feet and yet again found yourself falling to the ground. A soft hiss escaped you as you tried to push yourself back up, missing how the man frowned.

Then he slowly approached you, kneeling down to offer a friendly hand to you. “Y/n,” the way he spoke your name sent a chill down your spine and you immediately froze, no longer caring about that outstretched hand.

“It’s quite a pleasure to meet the child of one of the local heroes here, though I do hope they watch their backs.” the threat seemed to go over your head. But you still sensed there was more to his words and glanced at Tomura who for the moment seemed frozen in place.

Was this his father, his caretaker maybe? How could someone stand to be near someone so...scary? Maybe you’d never fully understand it, but you found yourself crawling away from the man. Effectively distancing yourself from him.

Luckily he seemed to take the hint and slowly rose back to his feet. “Pity,” was the only word he spoke before turning to Tomura. “Come,” he said, almost as if the young boy was a dog. But the single command was all it took for him to move.

You paused and watched from your position on the ground as the two of them made their way to the closest building. The door gave an eerie squeak as it opened and as the man walked inside, you caught a glimpse of what he looked like.

Though you couldn’t make out his face or hair. You could see he looked just like a regular man and he was wearing a black suit and tie. Then your eyes shifted to Tomura who wasted no time in stepping through the doorway. However, he stopped and turned around to look at you, or at least you assume he was.

You weren't entirely sure at first but that burning sensation that began to overwhelm you was the only confirmation you needed to know you were correct and you couldn't help but feel a tad uncomfortable the longer those eyes were on you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and glanced away as if that would shake the feeling of being some type of prey. Part of you wondered if he was as bad as his ‘master.’ You weren't sure if you wanted to find out and yet, you found yourself wondering if you’d ever see him again.

After a few more moments, he finally turned and closed the door behind him. Leaving you in the empty courtyard covered in dirt and scratches. You slowly turned to look at the fence, the images of what occurred just moments earlier fresh in your mind.

But at least you now knew the weird kid everyone spoke about and a few weeks later, you found the courage to return to that very same courtyard. The fence was still broken but at least it made it easier to climb through.

You keep your hands close to your chest as you ventured further into the area, pausing only to look at the buildings around you. One of the buildings, in particular, had a small balcony and you flinched when you saw Tomura standing here.

Unlike the previous time you saw him, those hands were absent from his body. Your eyes widened as you took note of his face, the most outstanding feature of which was his piercing red eyes. You could faintly make out the wrinkled skin that surrounded those eyes and his lips which also had scarring.

His hands were curled around the metal railing of the balcony, but only three out of five of his fingers were touching it. But those eyes continued to stare at you as the silence kept growing. A gentle breeze came and you watched his unruly black hair carry with it.

Your throat tightened as you tried to think of what you could possibly say to him. “Uh...” you brought your hands up, tapping your index fingers together. “H-Hi?” you almost hated how you stuttered, but your greeting was only returned with an angry expression.

'Oh...' you thought before nervously glancing back and forth. He wasn't responding, what else could you do? You swallowed and took another step forward. "Do...you remember me?" you asked, watching as Tomura tilted his head. "I was here before…" you continued.

"You saved me from those bullies?" he had to remember. Yet again silence filled the air. "I saw your...master?" Maybe if you talked about him, Tomura would feel obligated to start or continue the conversation?

"Is he your father? He's pretty scary an-" Tomura tightened his grip on the railing and dangerously leaned over it. "Don't insult my master!" his voice was high and slightly raspy, but even so. It caught you completely off guard and you stood there like a deer in the headlights.

'So his voice really does sound like that,' you thought, not that it was bad. But what happened next completely threw you off guard and made you take a step back, you were tempted to run but something kept you where you were.

The fact that Tomura had wrapped all five of his fingers around the railing was seemingly normal. But to watch that perfectly fine metal grow rusty within a matter of seconds right before your eyes and then crumble to dust wasn’t.

Your hands clamped over your mouth as you watched that dust be carried off by the wind, just like that bully. Your eyes quickly looked back at Tomura who slowly turned and began to walk down the stairs that were attached to the balcony.

You remained where you were, just watching as the boy proceeded to walk over towards you. More silence filled the air before you glanced to the side. “Uh…” you weren’t sure what to say and the fact Tomura was staring at you in such an intense way made you somewhat uneasy.

But even so, you felt the desire to ask him the question that was threatening to burst from you. The rumors may have been true and maybe Tomura wasn’t the most friendly, but he still saved you, and you were hoping for a new friend.

Having someone to protect you wouldn’t hurt either. “Do you want to be my friend!?” you shouted, taking a step closer and invading his space much more than you intended but Tomura didn’t move back. You partly found that strange when you realized just how close you were to him.

Just inches away from his face and yet close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath. “Friend?" Tomura questioned as if the word was foreign to him and you assumed it was. Still, you nodded. “Don’t you want a friend, what do you do um...all by yourself?” you questioned as you shyly took a step away from him.

Feeling a soft flush wash over your cheeks as you placed your hands behind your back. You heard a frustrated growl before Tomura reached up to scratch at his neck which would have been normal if it didn’t seem like he was digging his nails far too deep.

Leaving behind almost bloody lines. “Are you okay?” you questioned as you reached out to take hold of his hands, but he ripped them away from your grip moments later. “Don’t touch me!” he hissed out, making you flinch in the process.

“Sorry!” you said as you raised your hands up, trying to show you meant no harm. He muttered something under his breath, though you couldn’t make out the words. You assumed they were about you. But maybe he was too afraid to touch anything with his hands considering what happened to the railing.

“Are you...afraid of your quirk?” you hadn’t actually intended for the question to slip, but it was too late to take back now. “None of your business!” Tomura hissed and for a moment you wondered if he was going to hurt you because he stepped closer to you with his hands raised up as if he were ready to choke you.

But instead, he paused and lowered them. “Why don’t you just leave, master won’t be happy that you’re here,” you blinked, there he was using the term ‘master’ again. He turned to walk away but you reached out, grabbing hold of his hand.

“I said don’t touch me!” he snapped as he tried to pull his arm back which caused you to tighten your grip, you were not letting go and Tomura seemed surprised at this. His red orbs widened with curiosity before that anger returned.

“Let go!” he demanded as he began to flail his arm up and down, but your grip remained. “Your quirk isn’t hurting me!” you exclaimed and all at once he came to a pause. He narrowed his eyes and you felt a chill go down your spine when he looked at you.

His eyebrows were slit and his jaw was slightly clenched as if he wanted to say something but also wouldn’t allow himself to. But somehow, you found yourself smiling and squeezed his hand. Though you didn’t realize the actual danger you were putting yourself in by touching the hand of someone with an unstable quirk.

Especially having witnessed how it worked on top of that. But, Tomura seemed to take that reassuring squeeze well and glanced at your conjoined hands. “You’re just like…” his words came to a pause and he looked back at you before pulling his hand out of your grip.

“You really wanna be friends with me!?” he snapped and though you were a little saddened by the fact he pulled away, you nodded. Tomura clenched his jaw and his hands curled into fists. “Why would I want to be friends with anyone!?” he snapped as he stomped his foot against the ground causing you to flinch back.

“Uh...b-because…” you frantically tried to think of an answer. “W-We can do it in secret!” you blurted out and though you were unsure as to why those seemingly random words left your mouth, you hoped Tomura would agree to it.

After all, if he was so worried about being friends with anyone, a secret friendship could work out. “Secret? What do you mean secret!?” he questioned and you watched as his fingers twitched slightly.

Part of you wondered if his quirk brought him any pain, but you didn’t want to push your luck by asking another seemingly personal question. “Well…” you began as you brought your hands up and once more shyly pressed the tips of your fingers together.

“Maybe...we could meet every other day, somewhere you want and...play?” you suggested, though your words came off as more clueless than anything, and that caused Tomura to raise his eyebrow. “Are you guessing...what’s the point of guessing!?” you flinched and shook your head.

“I wasn’t guessing!” you stated in your defense. “I was...suggesting," you were unsure of how he’d react to your words or what actions set him off. Maybe too many words confused him or maybe when someone was unclear of their intentions towards him?

“Mm…” Tomura groaned and once again reached up to begin scratching his neck, you could see the red lines that were created just a few moments ago but you weren’t sure if you wished to stop him this time.

Instead, you allowed him to do as he wanted even if the urge to grab his wrists and pull them away was strong. “Fine!” he suddenly snapped before he lowered his hands, allowing them to smack against his thighs. Then he pointed to the ground.

“Meet here...tomorrow at 8 PM, you got that!?” it sounded more like an order than a friendly agreement and yet you found yourself nodding. “Okay,” you replied before Tomura turned and began to walk away. “Huh, wait! Where are you going?” you questioned.

Yet Tomura continued to walk away. “Master will be angry if I’m late for training, don’t forget our meeting,” why he felt the need to remind you yet again that you were supposed to meet him was strange. But you didn’t question it, rather you watched him disappear back into the building he had come from before you turned to leave.

Somehow you recognized how he was feeling, your parents at times subjected you to training and you always felt bad when you fell short of what they expected. Part of you wondered what they would think of your new friendship with Tomura.

But then again you did say it would be a secret friendship and as promised that’s exactly what it was. Despite it being difficult at times to sneak out of your house to meet Tomura who always seemed to prefer seeing you at night.

But it was nice to know you had someone to talk to and someone you could call your friend. Even if the two of you shared a dark secret that came back to haunt you just a few weeks into your friendship. Though Tomura had gotten used to you and your touch and the way you would cradle his hand.

He even let you guide him around and you were relieved at how well your friendship was blossoming. But since news of a missing child spread, the very same child that you watched Tomura turn to dust. A curfew was set for all children in the surrounding area.

If any children were caught roaming the streets after dark, they were to be escorted back home by a member of the police force. Yet for a while, you had managed to avoid such a thing happening. “Tomura...what if they find out!?” The question came one night after you two had almost been caught for the third time.

You knew your luck was eventually going to run out and if that happened. You could only imagine how disappointed your parents would feel. “The heroes can’t do anything…” he replied and at that moment you had believed him.

Considering you knew they could never actually find the missing child, the missing bully who was so cruel to you. But as you previously suspected, your luck ran out the day Tomura and yourself had agreed to meet at the nearby docks sometime after midnight.

The police seemed to be anticipating your arrival or maybe they were simply stationed there for another reason entirely. Either way, this is the very thing that ended your friendship with Tomura. When your parents found out about it, they blamed Tomura for the fact you willingly disobeyed them and broke curfew.

This prompted them to take drastic action and relocate from the seemingly dangerous town you had lived in your whole life. Luckily they never suspected you of having been a witness to what happened to that missing child.

But without so much as a goodbye, you were taken away from the only home you had ever known and the only true friend you ever had. It should go without saying that your parents expected you to follow the path of a hero.

While you weren’t opposed to doing so, you always seemed to stop yourself from reaching your full potential whenever you thought back to the first night you met Tomura. Could you honestly call yourself a hero if you had allowed someone to get murdered?

Despite the fact you were indeed getting bullied by them, still you somehow managed to graduate and become a semi-known hero. Though underground work was your specialty. The most recent of your accomplishments had caught the attention of the news.

Which was your single-handed capturing and arrest of a small group of individuals belonging to something called the Paranormal Liberation Front. “Hm, it’s nice to know what shit they put on TV these days,” Dabi grumbled as he tilted his head back and downed the last remaining bit of beer from his can.

The television displayed the short interview taken with you after the arrest was made and the reporter was asking you a few questions. “How’d they end up capturing all of them!? I bet they had help!” Himiko accused as she pointed at the television with an angry scowl across her face before she turned to Tomura.

“Right Shigaraki!?” she questioned, but it appeared the man was too focused on the television to answer. His eyes were wide as if he was surprised by what he was seeing, but such emotion was very rare coming from a man of Tomura’s stature.

“Huh?” Himiko blinked and watched as Tomura rose to his feet and walked up to the television. Dabi cocked his head to the side, taking note of Tomura’s strange behavior as well. “What’s the matter with ya?” he questioned in a snarky manner before waving his arm.

“You’re blocking the TV, move, why dontcha!?” he snapped, and while Tomura normally didn’t let any type of disrespect go without proper punishment. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He stood there watching the digital image of you continue to talk.

‘Tell us Y/n what first inspired you to become a hero?’ the reporter held the microphone up to your mouth. Tomura continued to watch, feeling a strange sense of recognition as he looked at you. ‘Well...’ your voice echoed from the speakers of the television.

‘When I was a kid, I used to get bullied a lot. Then one day I squeezed through a broken fence while the bullies were still chasing me,’ the gears inside his mind continued to turn. Then a memory from when he was small began to surface.

‘I ended up running into another kid who lived in the neighborhood and in a way he was bullied too,’ Tomura tilted his head up, his eyes narrowing as he looked to the ceiling. “Bullied…” he repeated the word as his bangs slowly fell to caress the sides of his face.

His memory as of late seemed to be unlocked. Bringing back numerous long-forgotten moments from his early childhood and while he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to remember them. He raised his hands, his fingers straining as they curled inward.

“That’s right...they used to call me, heh, a freak…” a chuckle left his mouth as he kept his head tilted back, but he continued to listen. ‘But he saved me from those bullies and I haven’t forgotten that,’ you folded your hands in front of you and turned your attention to the ground.

Tomura missed the way you frowned before looking back at the camera. But he caught the sad undertone within the next words you spoke. ‘I never properly thanked him, but my family moved to another part of Japan and I never saw him again. But I think of him every day,’ you finished.

The sound of the reporter's laughter echoed before they proceeded to wrap the story up. “What the hell is wrong with ya?” Dabi’s voice came and it was clear he was slightly annoyed by Tomura’s antics, Himiko on the other hand seemed rather accepting.

“Ohhhh, do you know that hero Shigaraki!?” she questioned excitedly as she hopped to her feet and proceeded to bounce up and down. Tomura blinked and slowly lowered his head, then pointed at the television. Your image still remained on the screen as you waved goodbye to the viewers.

“Y/n…” he spoke your hero name as it was displayed on the bottom of the screen, catching the attention of both Himiko and Dabi. “Is our next target,” he declared before he turned to Dabi. “Figure out where that hero will be next,” he instructed, in turn causing Dabi to scoff.

“Why do I always get stuck with the lame work?” he questioned, but nonetheless would comply with Tomura’s wishes. Though you took your job as a hero seriously, that doesn't mean you didn't set time aside for yourself.

Though it was a little troublesome when you received attention as most people recognized you out of your hero costume. But that was alright. It had still been a pleasant day at the mall and you let out a sigh of relief as you placed your bags onto the floor and took a seat on the edge of the fountain.

The sound of the running water seemed to put you at ease as you glanced around and listened to the chatter as it filled the air. It was nice to see how busy the mall could get and how happy everyone seemed to be while in one another's company.

"Do you make that a habit?" came a high raspy voice that almost sounded familiar. “Huh?” you turned to look at the person that spoke. It was a man dressed in red shoes, dark pants, and a black hood that concealed his face.

But you could still make out the strands of silver wavy hair that hung down to frame the sides of that pale face and you noticed how severely chapped and scarred his lips were. However, you decided to keep such a comment to yourself and addressed his question.

“Make what into a habit?” more confusion washed over you as the man chuckled and proceeded to take the seat next to you. Though considering this was a public place, you couldn’t exactly tell him not to sit next to you.

But you still felt some unease and yet something seemed familiar about this man. But you assumed it was only due to the fact that he probably reminded you of someone you saw in one of the many crowds that often occurred after you finished saving the day.

You glanced at the man a moment more before looking ahead of you, mistakenly leaving yourself vulnerable. As soon as you felt three fingers grasp the back of your neck, an involuntary gasp escaped you. However, before you could turn your head, the man gave you a simple instruction.

“Keep looking forward,” he stated as his grip grew tighter and you could feel how his nails began to dig into your skin. “You know this reminds me of about a year or so ago when I was sitting here with one of those Yuuei brats…” the word left his mouth in a growl and you felt your heart begin to accelerate.

You had felt fear before. In fact, it was a normal part of your everyday hero work. Knowing that whenever you went on a mission or faced a dangerous villain, there was a possibility that you wouldn’t come back alive. But even so, you didn’t want to die here.

Not in public and not in front of all of these people. Your jaw clenched and you slowly glanced at him from the corner of your eye, catching a brief glimpse of a smile. 'Is he happy to be doing this!?' you frantically thought.

“Hopefully, you’re a little more cooperative than him. Now tell me something, hero…” you noticed how his voice softened, that previous anger from his memory of a Yuuei student gone for the moment. But you still debated about answering him.

“...What?” you replied, continuing to feel the pressure of those nails creating indents to the back of your neck. “Do you remember me?” he questioned and your body slightly jolted as you once more looked at him.

His hood was pulled back some and you could finally see his eyes which were colored red and had a severe amount of dried skin surrounding them. ‘Why is he asking if I remember him?' you thought, you certainly didn't recall meeting him before.

Then again, 'The...boy I met when I was small had red eyes too, but dark hair. Don't tell me...no, I refuse to believe that!’ Tomura must have sensed your realization. Even if you choose to deny it as many heroes in your position would. But that was just the nature of heroes, wasn’t it?

His fingers squeezed your neck, heroes never wanted to face the real problem until it was too late and yet they still got people gawking over them. “You already know what my quirk can do, don’t you?” your body stiffened as the image of that metal bar crumbling to dust came to mind.

“So I wouldn’t suggest trying to run now,” he leaned over, wanting to catch a glimpse of your terrified face, and boy, you didn’t disappoint. Your eyebrows were knit together, creating crease lines across your forehead and your eyes were full of confusion and fear.

Feeling rather satisfied with himself he leaned back with a content sigh, there was something so riveting knowing when you backed a hero into a corner with no escape. He brought his leg up, resting it across his opposite knee and you watched as he lightly swayed his foot almost as if he were listening to a catchy song.

“You know, I wasn’t sure at first,” you wanted to turn to look at him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move at the moment. Not with the continued pressure of those fingers on your neck, not knowing what he could do to you when all five fingers made contact with your skin.

“Why that image of you on television seemed so...familiar,” you could hear his voice heighten in pitch and he tilted his head towards the ceiling as another laugh escaped him. “That is until one of my lackeys dug up some information on you,” your eyes widened.

‘Lackeys?’ you thought. “Oh, I bet you didn’t even realize you had someone stalking you,” a twisted smirk appeared across his face as he leaned close to your ear and a shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hot breath. “Watching your every move,” God...were you really that blind or unaware?

He could have had this ‘lackey’ attack you or worse the people around you. “Oh and before you ask, yes...I know where you live,” that alone made your stomach drop, at any moment the ‘lackey’ or Tomura himself could have broken into your home and done God only knows what.

“Well anyways,” Tomura said as he leaned away from you and turned to look at the crowd that continued to chatter amongst themselves, completely unaware of the danger you were in or the potential danger they could be in. Society was stupid or at least in Tomura’s opinion it was.

“Then it hit me,” it was slightly amazing how he could go right back to the story as if he hadn’t told you something that could mentally scar you for life. “You’re that brat from my childhood.” Despite the word ‘brat’ coming out with yet another growl, he chuckled a few seconds later.

“The one who witnessed me kill that other kid, heh. Bet you never told anyone about that, huh? Guess even heroes can hold dark secrets,” another shiver ran down your spine and your hands tightened around the edge of the fountain.

Your vision blurred and you felt a wave of dizziness wash over you as your thoughts multiplied. For years you had been keeping that fact a secret and for one good reason. If you revealed what you allowed to happen as a young child, that you were a witness, an accessory to murder.

Your hero career as you knew it would be over, it wouldn’t matter to anyone that the incident occurred when you were only a child. Everyone would just ask why you didn't do anything, why you didn’t try to save someone from certain harm or death.

Did Tomura know that as well? The sound of his laughter seemed to bring you back out of your thoughts and you flinched when you noticed what he was doing. He was bent over, his hand still grasping the back of your neck, and a wicked smirk was on his face.

“Oh, you look horrified. Isn’t that funny? A hero who's afraid of a little murder, pff,” his smirk was quickly replaced with a present frown and an unamused expression played across his features. “Isn’t that what you’re good at?” his voice carried a certain tone to it, almost as if what he was stating was a known fact.

Maybe he was right in a sense, not all heroes were good. But they certainly weren’t murderers. Your nails dug into the concrete foundation of the fountain and you opened your mouth to speak. That is until you felt him press a fourth finger against your neck and you immediately froze.

“Oh? Were you about to say something?” he mocked. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of my quirk now,” once more your eyebrows came down and you weren’t sure what he was talking about. You did recall trying to hold his hand as a child, but once more you were in doubt that this is the monster that little boy grew up to be.

“Why don’t we take a little walk?” he suggested as he stood up and a cry left your lips as he proceeded to yank you up by the neck. You reached up, wrapping your fingers around his arm. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned as he looked down at you.

His red eyes now holding a dark appearance to them and that unamused expression was back on his face. “You try and pull my hand away and I’ll either disintegrate you or let go and you can watch me murder these innocent mall-goers,” well that made your choice clear.

Though you were angry and felt utterly defeated for having so carelessly found yourself in this situation. Maybe it was clear why you were in the lower ranks. “...fine,” you replied as you released your grip on his arm and yet again heard him chuckle.

“Wise choice, hero,” he stated before he began to drag you through the crowd. “Play nice and I’ll keep my word,” you weren’t even sure where he was guiding you. But part of you suspected he’d just take you to an empty field where he’d finish you off.

Instead, you found yourself being guided through the equally busy streets of Japan with nothing but the sound of silence between yourself and Tomura. That is until you finally came to a stop. “Hm…” it wasn’t hard to figure out you had stopped in front of some type of large business building.

“Detnerat Company?” you read the sign out loud, though it didn’t sound at all familiar to you. “Mhm,” Tomura responded with a nod, he had lowered his hood some time ago. Revealing his shoulder-length hair and some bandages that you assumed he got from some type of fight he was in.

But unlike when you were a child, you prevented yourself from asking about the origin of the bandages. Instead, you simply began to walk inside the building. Even with Tomura’s hand still grasping the back of your neck, everyone seemed to act as though everything was fine.

They greeted or bowed respectfully when Tomura came into view and for a moment, you didn’t want to believe he owned some type of business. But that seemed to be the only explanation as you two entered an elevator and you watched Tomura press the button to the executive floor.

Your hands curled into the front of your shirt as you felt the elevator begin to move, giving a soft ding with every floor it passed. You were slightly worried about what the top floor held and debated about the possibility of you getting ambushed.

Your neck pulsed and part of you wondered if Tomura’s hand was getting cramped from having kept his hold on you for the last hour or so. You slowly glanced at him and he still looked unamused with that present frown on his lips.

You stumbled some when the elevator finally came to a stop and hissed softly as Tomura just yanked you back towards him. You wanted to take your chances, reach up and attempt to yank his hand off your neck but when the elevator doors finally opened.

You found yourself being thrown forward. “Ah!” you stumbled over your own feet with your arms outstretched to attempt to cushion your fall. Your knees hit the floor first, followed by your hands that pulsed from the impact of trying to catch yourself.

Your hair was hanging in your face and you could hear Tomura step off the elevator which then closed. You remained on the floor, trying to gather if anyone else was present in the room. But you were only greeted with the sound and vision of Tomura walking past you.

“Get up already hero,” he stated as he walked over to the large set of windows that made up one of the walls of the room. Allowing him a view of the cityscape. You lifted your head, looking confused as you watched Tomura’s reflection in the glass.

It was a little unnerving to see those red pupils slowly move to look at you and more than likely from Tomura’s position, he could also see your reflection. “I said get up,” he repeated, the words coming out with a hiss and it was clear to you he was getting impatient.

You swallowed down your fear, why did he bring you all the way to the top floor only to release his hold on you? Maybe because there was only one logical way of escaping, you turned to look at the elevator from over your shoulder.

You also doubted your chances of actually trying to jump out of the window considering how high up you were. Maybe Tomura had already figured out he could effectively trap you in this room? Still, it would be dangerous to anger him and part of you still refused to come to terms with the fact this was the same boy you met all those years ago.

But somehow as you rose to your feet, you couldn’t help but picture that same little boy who stood on a balcony looking down at you. That same feeling of being small washed over you, Tomura was still looking down at you.

But as a hero, you were more than accustomed to playing the part you were assigned. Acting as though nothing could actually bring you down and it was those ‘acting’ skills that made you straighten out your posture which seemed to catch Tomura’s attention as he turned around to face you.

His eyes tracing you from head to toe as if trying to detect more weaknesses. You narrowed your eyes, trying to force yourself to be unshaken by the man. Funny, you never felt this way as a child. In fact, Tomura was the one person you enjoyed spending time with, regardless of your strange friendship.

The more peaceful moments of your childhood were spent conversing with Tomura in private with the darkness of the night covering you. Where no one could touch or bother you, much like now. “Huh?” you found your defensive stance fading when Tomura held his hand out to you.

No words exchanged, just his fingers flexing slightly as if motioning for you to take hold just like you did all those years ago. You latched onto your bottom lip and glanced up at Tomura, feeling a shiver course down your spine as you noticed his stare hadn’t averted from you.

“Take my hand!” he suddenly snapped which caused you to stumble back. His voice seemed to echo in the empty room and you could hear the glass bottles that lined the shelf on one side of the room rattle. “What?” the word involuntarily left your mouth, and in response, you could hear Tomura’s teeth scraping together.

Oh right...don’t want to anger him. You held your breath and with some uncertainty placed your hand in his, though you noticed how cold his hand was and the rough texture of his skin. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid when all five of his fingers closed around the top of your hand.

But you didn’t have much time to think as you were forcefully pulled forward. You ended up smacking your chin into Tomura’s shoulder and your free hand pressed against his chest. You clenched your jaw, trying to prevent yourself from hissing as you felt Tomura’s grip tighten painfully around your hand.

His nails began to dig into the thin layer of skin that made up the top of your hand. If that wasn't any indication he was feeling angry, the three fingers that came to grasp your jaw were. A cry left your mouth as your head was painfully tilted up and you were forced to watch as Tomura leaned down to your height.

You could feel the dry strands that made up his hair caress your cheeks as he pressed his forehead against yours, making sure you couldn’t look away from him. A strange feeling came over you when you realized Tomura was enjoying inflicting this type of pain on you.

He knew his actions would cause both a painful and shy reaction in you. Despite the fact he was hurting you, the way your heart accelerated when he leaned close, made an affectionate gesture towards you was undeniable. Was there something wrong with you?

Another twisted smile came to Tomura’s face just before he spoke. “You’re just like her,” he stated as if you were supposed to know who he was speaking of. A soft hiss escaped you and your knees bent when that grip of his continued to tighten around your hand.

You could feel your bones creak and you wondered if he was planning on breaking them. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “What...what are you talking about?” you spoke from behind your clenched teeth, now feeling a sense of anger fill you as you glared at Tomura.

But he only seemed to be amused by this and leaned away from you, and in doing so, released his hold on your jaw. But you could feel the indents he made with his nails which pulsed softly, then that smile of his faded.

“I hate her,” he stated before he yanked your hand over his shoulder causing your chest to press against his in the process. One of your legs was raised, pressing against Tomura’s hip while the foot of your opposite leg just barely pressed against the floor.

Then he leaned down, though unlike before he didn’t feel the need to press his forehead against yours. Rather, he seemed too absorbed in his anger. “And I hate you,” he growled before violently shoving you away, and once more you found yourself stumbling before falling to the floor.

Your hand was now aching and you clasped it in your opposite palm, trying to rub it to ease the pain and discomfort that was currently pulsing through your bones. Jeez, just how hard did he squeeze it? Naturally, your fear was still present.

But your anger almost overpowered it as you glared at Tomura from your position on the floor and watched as he began to circle around you. It was almost impossible to follow his emotional pattern, he flipped between anger and happiness so quickly.

From sanity to insanity in the blink of an eye. Just what happened during those years you were away from each other? Had his father or ‘master’ as Tomura called him, damaged him this much? “You call yourself a hero in this twisted society, you enjoy that title. Don’t you?” he continued to walk around you, eyeing you like prey.

“But you’re no hero, are you?” Where was that question coming from? You continued to rub your sore hand, refusing to answer him. “I'm sure you’d never admit that because the truth is...if the rest of those ‘heroes’ found out what you did, what you allowed happen," he paused in front of you.

"You’d be considered the enemy, they’d turn on you so fast, wouldn’t they? A so-called member of their own kind,” he loomed over you, waiting for your response. A soft growl rumbled in your throat and you lowered your hands before cautiously standing on your feet.

“What are you talking about?” you hissed before pointing your finger at him. “What happened to you!? You weren’t like this when we were…” on second thought, was that even a valid argument? No one was like they were as a child, but a large part of you.

Maybe the hero inside of you wanted to know what Tomura had been through and if there was any way you could possibly save him. Some heroes still believed in ‘It’s never too late’ and sadly you were one of them. But in Tomura’s case, it might be a tricky and slippery slope.

“Heh,” he took a step towards you. “Isn’t it better to allow people to have the memory of you being a hero rather than learn just how heartless you are,” he questioned. “After all,” he tilted his head back and that smile on his face grew larger, almost psychotic.

“You are an accessory to murder,” yet another cry came when you found yourself suddenly being pulled forward thanks to Tomura’s fingers which were currently curled into the collar of your shirt. Your hands immediately reached up, grasping Tomura’s wrist.

But unlike you, the pressure of nails digging into flesh didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. In fact, he continued speaking. “And what would people think of that, hm? Knowing the hero they look up to is nothing but a villain in disguise” you felt your throat go dry and your heart sunk in your chest.

Your face twisted in disbelief, your eyebrows were raised and your jaw hung open. Was this what checkmate felt like? You couldn’t deny he was right, your image would be ruined if word spread that you not only witnessed the murder of a child when you were small, but that you allowed it to happen.

That you indeed were an accessory to it. Your hero career would be tainted and yet, “Is that all you wanted to say to me?!” you snapped before taking a step back. Successfully yanking Tomura’s hand away from your shirt.

“That you’re only trying to blackmail me!?” Though not a terrible plan, it didn’t exactly seem like the evilest thing one could come up with, and yet it was effective enough to put your hero career on the line. “What do you want!?” you slapped your hands against your thighs, looking at Tomura with an expression between confused and angry.

“Hmph,” he glanced to the side, his lips now perched to one side. “You’re just like her,” he commented, repeating an earlier statement of his that seemed to confuse you all the more. “What…who are you talking about!?” you demanded but kept your distance from Tomura as he raised his hand and seemed dazed as he stared at his palm.

“Hana...always held my hand,” your head cocked to the side. “Hana?” you repeated, assuming she was another friend or perhaps someone from Tomura’s past that held some special type of significance to him. “...my sister,” he whispered as he lifted his head up and looked at you.

Once again he seemed to shift into some type of calm sanity. “She was never afraid to hold my hand either,” he stated before his eyes darkened, and that distant look was present in them once more. You take a step back, but Tomura only countered this move by continuing to walk forward.

Despite your commands of, “Stop!” he continued to force you into a corner. His hands slammed against the wall, one on each side of your head. “But she left,” he stated and somehow something finally seemed to click.

When you met Tomura, he was living with his ‘father’ and seemingly was an only child. Had his sister died, what about the rest of his family? Was that why he addressed his ‘father’ as ‘master’ because he wasn’t actually blood-related to the man?

So many questions filled your head, but none of them could actually escape due to the next set of words that left Tomura’s mouth. “But you won’t,” somehow you knew that wasn’t a threat, nor a command. It was a fact.

“After all,” he began, his voice sounding more chipper as he leaned away from you. “Isn’t that what old friends are for!? To keep secrets!?” he questioned as he turned to walk away from you with his hands folded behind his back.

“Of course, I’m sure hero society will be shocked when they find out you’re missing. But what’s one less hero anyway?” he said as he shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the array of glass bottles that were previously rattling due to the volume of his voice.

You remained against the wall and watched him pull out two glasses. “Kurogiri isn't here, so I suppose I’ll have to make the drinks myself,” he muttered and though you weren’t sure who ‘Kurogiri’ was, you assumed it was another member that made up Tomura’s group.

Still, you heard the soft ‘clinks’ of ice hit the glass before the sound of liquid followed. You slowly eased off the wall and watched as Tomura glanced over his shoulder at you, seemingly unbothered by the way you continued to stare at him.

“How about a toast to the now-former hero?” you knew by his tone that he was mocking you. But still, he turned around and raised a glass in the air. The ice swirled around the brown-tinted alcohol and you didn’t miss that smile of satisfaction that came to Tomura’s chapped lips.

“You’re going to stay here forever,” he commented just before he tilted his head back and proceeded to down the drink. Somehow, you knew he might be correct. But even so, you would figure out a way to save him and bring out that boy you used to know.

#tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader

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dc-x-readers · 5 years

Text

Your Boy (Damian Wayne x Parental!Reader)

This is not a romantic fic, and it is gender neutral! Yay Me!

People who are always asking me for a part 2, don’t worry this one will have one. I hope you all enjoy!

TW: Cannon typical injuries, mentions of blood

You found him lying on the street. If you had been anyone else you would have probably kept moving, averted your eyes and pushed the image from your mind. But you were new to Gotham, and you still had that bleeding heart; so you walked over to the boy who lay in the grimy alley way in a too expensive suit and a bloody head.

“Hey kid.” You said, shaking his shoulder lightly, hoping the child would wake up.

The kid did, his eyes shot open, dark hazel orbs meeting your own. He looked scared and disoriented. You weren’t the most parental figure, but you suddenly wanted to wrap the child up in your arms and hold him close, tell him it would all be okay.

“Kid.” You tried again, “We need to get you to a hospital, or the cops, or something.”

This seemed to wake the kid up immediately, he looked at you with wide eyes, “No. No hospitals.”

Probably a street kid then, you nodded to yourself, because street kids never wanted to be put back into the foster system, and that broke your heart slightly. But you didn’t say that out loud.

“Listen kid,” You tried again, softly this time, “You’re bleeding from a head wound. It’s probably not good. I’m no doctor, you should really get checked out.”

The kid whipped at his forehead as if he was just noticing the blood. He didn’t say a word, just stared down at his bloodied hand.

“Come on. I’ll take you to urgent care. They don’t ask too many questions there.” You said finally, standing up and then offering him a hand up as well. The kid took it, sluggishly and you smiled at him.

He was small, but he was deceptively heavy, probably all muscles. But his weight meant you couldn’t carry him, you would just have to help support his weight. The two of you made it to the free clinic in good time, and in almost complete silence, aside from a few groans of pain.

While the two of you sat in the waiting room the boy attached himself to you, it was like he imprinted on you. You were filling out paperwork fo the kid, in preparation for him to see the doctor.

“What’s your name kid?” You asked not looking up from the file, you expected a quick answer, and after a moment of silence you looked at the child sitting next to you. He looked horrified, he didn’t even know his own name, he must of hit his head really hard.

“Shit kid,” You whispered, “You’ve got to–”

Fear and panic swam into the kid’s eyes, “No please, I can’t go…” He trailed off.

This kid was terrified of something, and he didn’t even know what it was. You felt pity for him, you couldn’t throw him back to the wolves that was the foster system. You wanted to protect him, which was odd, because you had never felt an urge like this before.

“Fine, fine. For now you are going to say you are Ian L/N.” You whispered pulling a name out of your ass, “and you are my baby brother. Got it?”

The kid nodded, “Ian.” He said in confirmation.

The nurse didn’t say anything when you gave her the paperwork, but she did look between you and the little boy. She didn’t seem to believe you were related. But this was the bad part of Gotham, and the boy was still clinging to you as if his life depended on it, so she didn’t say a word.

A few hours later Ian returned to you, his head was sewn shut with three stitches, and the tired nurse explained that he had a concussion and that probably caused his memory loss. The memories would return in their own time, and that you shouldn’t force them. She said that with a concussion he shouldn’t do anything that provided too much brain power, and absolutely no electronics. Then she sent the two of you home.

You didn’t know what to do with the kid, Ian now, but you couldn’t just leave him on the street again. So you took him to your home, it was a small studio apartment with barley enough to take care of yourself, let alone a child. But you heated him up some canned soup, and then put him to bed in your bed, while you took the scratchy couch.

That night you dreamed of nothing.

It was a week after you had found Ian, and you were gladly getting into the routine of him being in your house. You would leave early in the morning for work, always giving him a kiss on the forehead and making him promise to take it easy with his concussion. You would come home after your shift with new foods, those that an eight year old (you were assuming he was eight, he looked young) might like. Then together you would take a short walk around the block, and Ian’s face would light up everytime he saw an animal. You loved it when he smiled, for a small kid he was too serious, except when he saw a dog or cat. He would always ask the owner if he could pet the animal.

It was a normal night for the two of you, he was reading one of your old books, and you were cooking dinner for the two of you. You heard the book fall to the ground. You turned around scared, because Ian was surprisingly agile, and you had never seen him drop anything. He was staring at you, his hazel eyes wide and scared.

“Y/N.” He whispered it, it was a terrified whisper, and you ran to him, abandoning the dinner. “Y/N, I remember my name. It’s Damian. I’m Damian – I am Damian something.”

Ian–Damian, was crying now, and you didn’t know what to do. This kid didn’t show his range of emotions a lot, so you just reached around him and gave him a hug.

“Why can’t I remember who I am?” Damian asked softly.

“You will. I know you will soon.” You whispered.

The dinner was forgotten and went cold, but you kept holding Damian as he cried. And you were okay with that.

Damian’s concussion had faded away, and you were worried about him being in your apartment all day, it might look like kidnapping or something, so you enrolled him in school, under the name Damian L/N.

After his first day of school you treated him to a night out, you couldn’t afford a fancy dinner, but you went to a small greasy diner and ordered him an ice cream. You asked him how his day was, and Damian told you that everyone at his school was an imbecile, and you laughed.

You don’t know exactly when it happened, but Damian had somehow wormed his way into your heart, and now you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

You couldn’t imagine walks without him stopping every dog owner to ask if he could pet them.

You couldn’t imagine going to the park without him playing with a stick, acting like it was a sword. (You had noticed he was all too good with it.)

And you definitely couldn’t imagine Friday nights when you two would curl up in your chair and watch movies, Damian likes action movies, and you indulged him.

You worried about the fact that Damian still hadn’t regained any of his memories from before he was with you. You tried to get him to go to the clinic, but every time he would conveniently disappear and not come back until you sighed that you wouldn’t take him. From his fears of the police and the hospitals, you figured it was a life he didn’t really want to remember so you tried not to push it too hard.

The two of you had been together for six months when everything changed, and you were so happy about it. Damian was home from school, his homework spread out on your table and you were happily reading a new book from the library.

Damian without looking up from his home work said, “Hey mother, I need you to sign a permission slip for me.”

Damian didn’t even notice that he called you mother, but you certainly did. You stared dumbfounded at the boy at the table, you heart soaring. You had never felt so good, so accomplished, in your entire life. Damian saw you as a mother, and you (God help you) saw him as a son as well.

“Y/N” Damian said again, this time looking up, “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Dami. I’ll sign it.” You were still smiling like a fool and Damian noticed, but he said nothing.

The field trip was on Monday and you and Damian were on your daily walk to the park. It was growing colder, and the sun was going down earlier. Damian had insisted he didn’t need a jacket, and his teeth were now chattering, but he was too stubborn to admit he was cold, and you were laughing silently at the ordeal.

“We better get going.” You told Damian, looking at the fast darkening sky, “It’s getting dark, so no petting any dogs okay.”

You loved Gotham, but it was not the type of place that you wanted to be at night, even if Batman would protect you.

“TT. I’m not afraid of the dark.” Damian huffed.

“Well I am Dami. So we better get going.” You replied automatically.

“I will protect you if anything happens Umi.” Damian boasted, he had started calling you Umi about three months ago, and after your initial confusion you googled it to learn that Umi was Mom in arabic. Which was at least one clue into his past.

“I know you will kid.”

They two of you were about two blocks from your apartment, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, when none other than the Batman jumped in front of the two of you. You pulled Damian behind you, putting yourself between your kid and a grown man with a weird fursona.

“You.” The Batman seethed, his voice was gravelly and dark. He sounded like he was going to kill you, and you knew the Batman didn’t kill so you were terrified. “Stole him away from me.”

Him?

Did Batman know your Damian? Was that his life before you, as the Robin? No wonder the kid was bloody and bruised when you met him.

“No,” Damian said, trying to get out from behind you, but you wouldn’t let him. Because you be damned if you kid got hurt by a costumed vigilante. “No father, she didn’t steal me. She saved me.”

While you couldn’t see the Batman’s face, you could feel his palpable shock at Damian’s words. They mirrored your own shock, because Father?

“Young man,” You said, not looking at Damian, because you still were keeping yourself between him and the Batman (who apparently is his father), “You told me you didn’t remember your past. You lied to me?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.” Damian huffed, stepping around you so he could see the Batman fully.

Damian sighed and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards your apartment, “Come on.”

The Batman followed behind you silently, and it was awkward to say the least, for a vigilante to be walking behind you and your kid, him towering over your shoulder. You could feel the Batman’s eyes on you, as if this were all your fault, and not his for leaving his son to bleed out in a dirty alley way.

As soon as you three all entered your apartment, Batman rounded on Damian.

“You left. You were gone for almost a year, do you know how worried I was. I thought you had died!”

“I didn’t die, I was completely safe. Y/N was taking care of me.” Damian replied shortly, one hand was curled into a ball, and the other was still holding your own. It reminded you of the first day you had him, when he wouldn’t let go of you, as if you were his life line.

“But I didn’t know that!” Batman countered, raising his voice so that you flinched. Damian squeezes your hand tighter, stepping a little in front of you, as if he was protecting you. The movement didn’t escape Batman’s knowledge, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Damian.” You spoke softly, and the boy turned to look up at you, his big hazel eyes wide and full of terror. You never raised your voice at the boy, and you wouldn’t start now, “You should have told him where you were. You should have told me you remembered you past. Why didn’t you?”

And you could see the tears gathering in Damian’s eyes. He acted so strong and mature, sometimes you forgot that he was still just a child. You kneeled down and pulled him into a tight hug, “He would have taken me away from you. And I didn’t want to leave Umi. I wanted to stay with you.”

You looked at the Batman, who was watching the display carefully, and you wondered if he would take your son away.

Finally Batman sighed, and he pulled down his mask, revealing the face of the billionaire Bruce Wayne. You wanted to be shocked that you knew who Batman was, but right now you could only focus on the child in your arms. You stared at Bruce Wayne, and pleaded with your eyes, you couldn’t let your boy go.

“We’ll figure this out Damian.” Bruce Wayne finally whispered. “I won’t take her away from you.”

#Damian Wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #Damian Wayne and reader #Damian Wayne x Parental!Reader #Damian Wayne x Mother!Reader #the beginning of bat mom #batman #robin x reader #robin imagine #batman and robin #DC comics #dc comics x reader #dc comic imagine #dc comics reader insert

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unavenged-robin · 7 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Damian is upset about Dick having his own kid (he's married to Kory) but tries to be mature about not being the only baby (bro/son) in Dick's life by helping Dick and Kori with Mari one day.

I just wanted to say that I loved this prompt since the moment I saw it and I really hope to have done it justice. Also a warning: this is cheesy as hell.

It’s not like he wasn’t prepared to be a dad, okay?

As a matter of fact he’s started reading books about parenting as soon as they found out Kory was pregnant, and by the time of Mar’i’s birth they had at least two library shelves overflowing with preparatory material. It’s just that all those books didn’t help one bit, okay? Or so it feels right now, while Dick paces through the room on his tiptoes, rocking his beautiful, precious, screaming baby daughter in the vain attempt to make her sleep.

He tried singing, and talking, and reading, and he tried giving her a bath, and warm milk before that, and every other trick he’s read about, plus some more he googled on the spot out of exhaustion, but it’s just useless. It’s all useless, and he’s running on two hours of sleep and two cookies, and that’s not even the real problem. The real problem is that Mar’i won’t stop crying and he doesn’t know what the hell to do about it except keep rocking her back and forth from the bedroom to the living room and humming lullabies and random pieces of old songs.

If Kory were here it would be easier, but she’s on League business tonight and Dick feels like he should be able to handle their three months old baby on his own anyway. It’s just that some help would be nice, that’s all, but the only other person in the apartment really doesn’t want to be helpful right now (or in general, to be honest).

“Damian, can you turn down the volume of that thing?”, he asks through his teeth, trying to whisper and at the same time to be heard above the screaming . “I’m trying to put Mar’i to sleep.”

Sitting cross-legged on the couch, Damian doesn’t even spare him a glance, too focussed on destroying his virtual opponent on the screen.

“You’re failing.”

“Yes, I know”, Dick hisses, shifting Mar’i into his arms. “Maybe if there was a little silence it would be easier for her to sleep, don’t you think?”

“I thought you invited me here to play video games, not to contemplate your failure at taming your bothersome offspring”, Damian answers without looking at him, and he doesn’t even pretend to turn down the volume like he usually does with Bruce. “I see I was wrong.”

And yeah, there’s that too. Dick has another pile of book on his nightstand about that. For a brief moment he’d even considered to ask Bruce about siblings rivalry and how to try and reassure a child that he was not being replaced by the newest addiction to the family, then he’d regained full possession of his mental faculties.

Bruce. Handling siblings rivalry. Ha.

He would be as clueless as Dick is. Which is a lot. He just doesn’t know what to do to convince Damian that Mar’i is not a threat to him, that there’s no blood child here and that Dick loves him just the same, that nothing’s changed between them. It frustrates him, because Damian should already know all of that, and yet he’s always cold to Mar’i, and sometimes even to Dick and Kory, and that’s downright infuriating. Especially in situation like this one.

The sound from the console intensifies as Damian hits a combo, and Mar’i cries even harder right into Dick’s left ear.

“Damian! Shut that damn thing down right NOW”, he yells, spinning on his feet to face his little brother.

There’s a moment of stunned, blessed silence, just enough for Dick to realize that he yelled so loudly to startle both Mar’i and Damian and feel bad about it. Then Mar’i starts crying again, even more desperately than before, and he’s at loss again.

“No no no, I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, sshh, don’t cry”, he pleads, rubbing the baby’s back and bouncing her into his arms. It takes five minutes and four trips to various room of the apartment before Mar’i’s crying tunes down into a soft whimper, and by then Dick realizes that there’s only silence coming from the living room.

He swears under his breath and races there as smoothly as he can, already convinced that he’ll find nothing else than an open window and Damian gone and fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s not how he wanted tonight to go at all.

The TV’s off and the ps4 controller lies abandoned on the carpet, but to his surprise Damian’s still there, perched on the couch armrest, phone in his hands. Dick sighs in relief, scoops Mar’i up onto his shoulder and carefully approaches the kid.

“Hey, kiddo…”, he starts, an apology ready on his lips as he reaches out to ruffle Damian’s hair, but his brother dodges him and swats his hand away.

“Come on, don’t be like that, I’m sorry I yelled at you okay?”, Dick continues anyway. “I’m just… Mar’i is very tired and the sooner I can put her to bed the sooner we can spend some time together, yeah?”

Damian doesn’t answer, which is… expected, to say the least. Dick sighs, reaches out again only to earn himself another swat for his trouble and then just gives up because Mar’i is finally sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake her up. Win some, lose some. Besides, he can always make it up to Damian in a few minutes. Bribe him with pizza or something.

“Alright, I’m taking her to bed. Back in five minutes, okay?”

Still no answer. Dick sighs again, then marches towards the bedroom. Silence is weird to his ears right now, almost like a spell waiting to be broken. Which is exactly what it’s going to happen in a few hours, but hey, that’s a problem for future Dick.

He lies down on the mattress, careful to support Mar’i’s head with his hand while lowering her down next to him. He takes a moment to admire his daughter, the perfection of her beautiful little face, from the long, dark lashes brushing her cheeks down to the tiny nose, so similar to Dick’s, and the sweet line of the little chin, which Kory claims to be exactly as her own. Everything’s been so frenetic these last months, and yet the amazement of these little moments is still there, perfectly intact. It’s like magic, and all the crying and the sleepless night are nothing compared to it.

Dick wants Damian to know this, to feel this. Because this baby belongs to him too, she’s his family too. Dick only needs to find the right words to make him understand that, to make the jealousy and all the bad feelings go away. He knows he can do it.

He falls asleep without even realizing it.

He wakes up an hour later, in a panic. He doesn’t know at first what exactly he’s panicking about, but it becomes clear the moment he opens his eyes and finds an empty, cold spot where Mar’i should be.

I dropped her, he thinks, and the horror freezes him for a long, terrifying moment. Then he bolts out of the bed on shaky legs and he tries to call his daughter’s name, but his throat’s so tight that the only sound capable of escaping his lips is a feeble whisper.

He walks around the bed with his heart pumping hard into his chest and he feels the sweat freezing on his neck. Years of life as a Gotham vigilante and he can’t remember ever being so scared. The fear only intensifies when he reaches the other side of the bed and still can’t find Mar’i. His three months old daughter, who was sleeping just next to him, gone. Gone.

A soft sound from the living room catches his attention, and his heart stills before his brain starts to work again. Damian. Damian was still there.

He walks out of the bedroom like a zombie, and sure enough there he is. Slouched down on the couch, playing his video game with the volume to a minimum and a very awake and very quiet Mar’i cuddled up against his chest.

“She woke up half an hour ago”, Damian informs him, still pressing button after button with his usual efficiency. “You looked like you needed the rest more than she did, so I picked her up.”

Dick’s first, instinctive reaction would’ve made him ashamed of himself, hadn’t he caught it in time.

But he’s never hit Damian, and he’s not going to do it now. Fear and exhaustion are not an excuse, and even if his hands itch to grab the kid by the shoulders and shake him hard, Dick realizes that his intentions were good, that he was only trying to help him out.

So he closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose with cold fingertips.

“I- well, thank you, kiddo”, he exhales, and there must be something weird left in his voice because Damian actually pauses the game to look at him.

“Something wrong?”, he asks with a frown.

“No. No, I just- had a moment of… confusion, when I woke up and didn’t find Mar’i there”, Dick admits, careful to keep his voice as casual as possible. “Thought someone took her.”

Damian’s frown only deepens at that.

“I was here”, he remembers him. “I would’ve never let anyone take your daughter.”

Your daughter, Dick repeats in his mind.

“Thank you”, he says again.

Damian shrugs, and Dick walks around the couch to sit next to him. Mar’i looks up at him with big, green eyes, and she seems content to be where she is, lying on Damian’s chest, her little head on his shoulder, little fists tighten around his shirt.

It’s the first time Damian holds her of his own volition, Dick realizes. Sure, he’s held her before, mostly because Dick and Kory had insisted on it, but he’d never gone and picked her up on his own before. Dick supposes it’s a big step forward.

“Do you mind if I take a photo?”, he asks then, unable to help himself.

“Yes”, Damian scoffs.

“Too bad”, Dick grins, reaching out to take his phone from the table in front of the couch. “Because I’m gonna do it anyway.”

Damian ignores him and resumes his game, only to stop it again when Mar’i starts to fuss on him. From behind the camera phone’s lens Dick watches him shushing and bouncing the baby into his arms, and he smiles as the same feeling of amazement hits him right into the chest, fear and anger now completely forgotten.

He takes a dozen photos from various angles, and Damian huffs when a minute later he shows him his favorite.

“Happy now?”

“Ecstatic”, Dick confirms. “It’s the first picture of the two of you together that I can put on my desk.”

“You don’t have a desk.”

“Not the point.”

That earns him another scoff, but Dick doesn’t mind. He rests his elbow against the back of the couch, leans his head into his hand, and watches them. It’s weird, he knows that. Damian is Bruce’s son, not his, and yet he can’t help himself now more than he could back then, when for the first time he seriously started thinking about keeping Damian as his own. He still wonders about it, sometimes. Would’ve Damian accepted to go with him? Would’ve Bruce allowed it? Would’ve it worked?

This time Damian doesn’t swat him away when he reaches out to pet his hair, nor he tries to squirm away from him when Dick leans over to kiss the side of his head.

“I missed you”, Dick admits. It should be the easiest thing for him to say, but more often than not those words remain stuck in his throat, weighed down by the guilt and the fear of breaking the delicate balance of their lives.

“You’re the one who’s always otherwise occupied”, Damian reminds him bitterly, and Dick sighs.

“Babies need a lot of attention”, he answers. “You know that. We talked about it.”

“I know.”

“I don’t love you any less because of it”, Dick continues. “You know that too. But I’m sorry that we spent so little time together lately. I thought tonight could be our boys night, you know? Just us, pizza and video games. Like it used to be.”

Damian nods, then he bites his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry too.”

“Don’t be. There are going to be other boys night, I promise”, Dick quickly reassures him, swinging an arm around the boy’s shoulder and leaning down again to kiss Mar’i’s forehead. “We only need a little time to adjust, that’s all.”

“No, not that”, Damian snaps, and Dick blinks down at him. “What I mean is that I know I have contributed to our… falling out. And I apologize for being a menace, and not helpful at all with this new situation of yours.”

“This new situation of mine is your niece”, Dick retorts. “Your sister, if you prefer.”

Damian hums noncommittally at the idea of adding a sibling to the list, then glances at him.

“So you’re not angry at me?”

“Kid, I promise you I never was”, Dick sighs. “I’m just very tired. But believe me when I say this: despite what it may look like, this is the happiest I’ve ever been. Especially with you here. You and Mar’i are the two things I love the most, okay? You two and Kory are my family.”

“Cheesy”, Damian comments, but by the light blush on his cheeks Dick knows his message came through. So he laughs, and Mar’i gurgles happily along with him, drooling a little on Damian’s shirt.

“The important things in life always are”, Dick states, then he leans down again, this time to steal the controller from Damian’s hands. “But now it’s my turn to kick some bad guy’s ass while you get to play the babysiter. And pray that she doesn’t need a diaper change before I finish this level, because believe me, that’s not going to be cheesy at all.”

Send me an anonymous ask completing the sentence “I wish you would write a fic where…” (REQUESTS CLOSED, SORRY!)

#damian wayne #richard grayson #mar'i grayson #this is cheesy but who cares #also it wasn't supposed to be this long #so i don't think i'm going to fill out anything else #still it was so fun #i love my daddy dick #asks #Anonymous #my fic #I wish you would write a fic where meme #shari writes

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pendragonfics · 7 years

Text

Kiss It Better

Paring: Frank Castle/Reader

Tags: female reader, reader is a nurse, babies, neonatal nurses, fluff, angst, guns, canon-typical violence, minor violence, minor injuries.

Summary: You are what you do.

And while you're a nurse down at the Metro-General Hospital taking care of the newborns, Frank Castle is a killer by night and day. The Punisher.

Word Count: 3,145

Posting Date: 2017-03-28

Current Date: 2017-06-11

You are what you do. And that is what Frank Castle learned. When good men go to war, they come back with shadows in their souls, that follow their footsteps to their graves. He was not a terrible man before the smell of gunpowder tickled his nose in the mornings, counting the dead as they day wore on. He had a family, his children, a loving wife. But when a good man goes to war, and live to tell the tale, more than shadows follow him home. You are what you do, and that is true. Frank Castle came home with the battle in his eyes, but fairy tales are not tales once they come true. The peacetime in his life ended by a ride with pretty ponies, and screams of those whom he loved, leaving him there, sitting in the shadow of atrocities, from his past, his present, and the offerings of future that was to come.

You are what you do. And Frank Castle, a man made of blood, and gun shells, turned into what he was inside. A beast.

---

Life in Hell's Kitchen was as always, interesting. Not much went on, and if something happened, it was the same news as it always was. It wasn't like the big city, not Tony Stark's side of town, for sure. While aliens were falling out of the sky shooting up cafes, Hell's Kitchen had an underground drug dealing ring, which the police were at odds trying to trace. And apart from that, everyone just worried about their next pay-packet and if they'd be able to keep their one room. Perhaps that was just you. As a neonatal nurse, you worked in the ward with the children, doing your best to make their lives and their tired parents better. The little ones who came in were never the same; there were little ones with tight curls, or bald, with all their limbs, or no, with wide smiles or long howls.

To make it clear, you were quite different than the other nurses. Perhaps it was because as a child, you had been in an accident, and ever since, had a certain...ability where you changed the behaviour of people around you. A quick Googling spree brought you to the realisation that you were like an animal, and could release a pheromone that calmed people. It worked very well when fights broke out in the ER, as you were often paged down to take care of rouges with too much adrenaline. But babies...no matter what, they made your life feel like there was a meaning. Even if you weren't ready to have your own children, seeing the babies of the couples and single parents, the little ones who were off to be adopted away, the ones who had not yet been taken, it made your day. And you made theirs, thanks to your gift.

But, life in Hell's Kitchen, despite your day job and the goings-on of city, was as always, interesting. After bouts of violence, a vigilante named Daredevil rose to the street, and for once, it made you feel like you could at least walk home after a shift at night, without the cold stare of a person lurking in the dark upon the back of your neck. Babies grew up, babies got better, and like the circle of life, more babies were born – and your position continued in the Metro-General Hospital.

It was perhaps on a rainy Tuesday one terrible, terrible September when the Earth seemed to be soaking the tears of the heavens for future times to come when you came from the bus to the downpour, and found yourself drenched in a moment's notice. But, what was even more worse, was that there was a sizeable divot in the pavement that mustn't have been there last time you had been rendered unable to walk to work, and almost at once, you felt yourself flying -- nose over toes, head over heels, toward the water-slicked walk-way.

But in that moment, there was a saviour, who himself would not call himself one, and you were soon to slightly forget him due to the fact that the day ahead was to be busy, and full of babies and people to calm. But there was a saviour. And his arms caught yours, and righted yourself. In the dimness of the rainstorm, you did not properly see his face. Perhaps due to the dimness, yes, or that he wore a hood that clung to his face in the soaking wet, or that you simply weren't looking right.

But he righted you. And with the next words from your lips, you set a trajectory on his path, one which he hadn't thought of, or even considered in the years he'd spent being tortured from the inside out.

"Thank you so much," The words cascaded from your lips, but as his fingers released your arms, the call to work, the need to flee the oncoming storm reined superior in your mind. "You're a kind person - thank you for saving me a broken nose."

---

Frank Castle was a beast in the way he worked. His eyes calculated the prey, those who had preyed on those whom he loved, he breathed down the necks of killers, was the killer of killers, dreamed of days where the sun rose only to show what the night had brought for the likes of Frank Castle. To show what he had purged. He had been on his own for so long, and for so long, he had been with his own thoughts and the reflection of himself at the bottom of the whiskey bottle. And that moment he had been passing through the 'Kitchen, had found himself picking up a neonatal nurse from certain nasal fractures and impact pain, something changed.

He wasn't sure if it was that he didn't get to see her face in the dimness of the oncoming weather, or that he didn't look hard enough, or that her hair had been a right mess and covered all that was to see from his viewing. He wasn't sure if it was because even beasts could feel remorse - Devil of Hell's Kitchen, forbid - but he felt bad that he didn't walk her into the hospital, where her clothes suggested she worked, or even asked for her name, or read the shiny white badge upon her chest.

You are what you do. And in that moment, Frank Castle felt a twinge in his chest, almost like a palpitation. It passed, and so did his thoughts, and the day as well. He soon forgot that he even helped a young nurse from a certain accident. But the action...that was never forgotten.

---

Life in Hell's Kitchen was as always, interesting. Months passed between the sightings and the condemnation of a man wearing a skull upon his chest, who destroyed operations of which the police could not do. They called him a punisher, the Punisher, and in all the hypertension and melee of the people and the media, you found yourself once again felt a little safer.

When heroes rise, villains do too, but there was something about the killer of killers who encapsulated your attention. Maybe it was because he was neither a hero, or a villain. Maybe it was because the picture of the man, whose name was simply quite ordinary, reminded of you of a shadow of a face who had saved your day once upon a time. Or maybe not, the world doesn't write stories with lives, it wreaks havoc within poetry that cannot be read until the final period is reached.

But from then on, you shared your secret moment that you suspected with none. None, unless you confess to confiding that there was a man who had saved your day once on a rainy Tuesday in September, to the little ones who were but hours old. It was another rainy day, but not a Tuesday, or a September when you found yourself once more intertwined with the fate of the Punisher.

It was a rainy Friday, one which had lurked on barometers and the weather man's map for ages before revealing itself. It was a Friday when the business of a mob of men intruded on the hospital, speaking a language you couldn't understand, and threatened you and the children with lead within guns and horrid deaths. You stood there, frozen, unable to breathe or scream, but unlike other times when you had been frozen, the part of you that had been transformed as a child was released, and at once, all the frightened babies and nurses in the room stilled their beating hearts.

It was in that moment, or perhaps many moments after, that the man's face which had been all over the internet, the newspapers, the TV reports of massacre, appeared, and your feet unfroze themselves, and approached slowly toward him. The man who had threatened raised his gun, right to your head, but unlike all the other times in your life of which you had been afraid -- the rainy Tuesday, of all the horrid monsters in the movies, of beasts that lurked beneath the bed -- you approached him.

"Ma'am," he raised a hand, cocking his own gun, "Stay where you are."

You nodded, releasing a breathy sort of reply. It was only then that the gravity of the situation had resumed in normal time to your mind, and brought you back from the land of shock. But unlike other people who had witnessed the work of the beastly Punisher, there was no blood shed that night from artillery within the hospital; be it that a primary evolutionary function had been awakened, or that you had truly only been standing beside a vent that flowed throughout the whole hospital.

Either way, the invaders left without protest, and the wailing of the children in the back of your mind reminded you that there was almost very nearly a moment in which the walls were nearly painted a shade of your blood. At once, Frank Castle's gaze was upon your own, his gun returned to the pouch of which it was attached to him. There was a quizzical look in his eyes, and they searched your own to find answers that could not be found in the windows to the soul.

"Have I met you?" His voice crackled, frowning. "Doll?"

You found yourself unsure of what to say, for there were many ways to answer it. You lived in Hell's Kitchen, and while the district of the city was relatively small, small was nothing in comparison to that of a town desolate in the Himalayas with three hundred in its walls. "I'm not quite sure, Mr. Castle," you find yourself frowning, recalling the moment you had slightly forgotten, "I would have fallen if not for a man who went out of his way to help a stranger."

He inclines his head, licking those lips of his. "I'm sure anyone would do such a thing, ma'am," he declines the kindness.

"They call you a killer of killers," you whisper, the words finding their way into his ears.

"I'm the Punisher," he replied.

"I'm _________," You retort, almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. The people within the hospital seemed to be waking from the trance of your pheromone, realising that there had been a massacre averted within the walls of the Metro-General Hospital. "But Frank, please know, you're a man," you remind him. "And you're a kind person."

---

You are what you do. That night, Frank Castle lay in his bed, the rickety single mattress which he had salvaged years ago, and placed within his safe house, where all the things he tried to keep for himself were stored. Even his mind. But his mind could not rest, unlike the other times it could truly switch off, and now, he lay there, the moonlight filtering through the smog of the city, into the dirty old window onto his face, leaving him awake, wondering once more about the nurse he had happened onto twice in the span of six months, whose face haunted him.

You're a kind person.

He was the damn Punisher.

There could have been another headline coming in the morning, one with once more a photograph of him underneath, and beautifully ugly words spoken by people on the street. But there was not, and he wanted to know more. It had been so long since his heart beat for anything but the drums of war, but that night, Frank Castle lay in his bed, and thought of a nurse whose name she had spared aloud.

“________.”

The trajectory he hadn't known himself to be set onto was becoming clear with every breath he took, and even less understandable with every twitch of his trigger-happy fingers. But at that moment, he didn't feel like he was the beastly man who had been born from the blood of his past. He felt like Frank. Just Frank.

You are what you do. And that night, Frank did not kill a soul. All because his stars were lucky enough to align with a nearby moon in orbit, a moon which had been following his retrograde for longer than he had believed possible.

---

It was neither night or a Tuesday nor Friday, or even a September when you found yourself unsheathing the window, finding a man you were often seeing from the rooftop of your apartment, off in the distance serving a dish best served cold to the evil that sat in the darkness. But as you led him through the window from the fire escape, you noticed a very terrible thing; Frank Castle was not whole. Not in the metaphysical sense, wherein there was a tear in the fabric of his heart, no, but in the quite literal sense, that was dripping upon the sill, onto your bare feet.

"Oh, Frank," you whisper, and throwing his arm over your shoulder, you lead him toward the tub that lay nestled in the corner of the room. "I'm going to have to look at your wounds - thank whoever I'm a registered nurse..." you whisper, stripping the big bad wolf of a man from his coat, his jacket, until the final layer was cut from his stained skin. "I don't think people who fantasise of meeting obscure men ever dream of having to sew them together..." you grit out.

He laughs, a dark chuckle that reveals a row of teeth in good humour. "You dream of me, _______?"

You roll your eyes. "Only while awake, Mr. Castle," you harrow, placing antiseptic onto his midsection, preparing the needle and thread to take on a new stitching project without fabric but skin. Without warning, you took to the job at hand, and not an hour later, there were neat stitches across his body, and a silence in the apartment.

"Thank you," he grunts, propping himself up against the wall. The blood was cleaned up, even that which had fallen upon the boards of floor as he entered. If anyone was to see the sight, of the neonatal nurse and the soldier at war with himself, it would be declared odd, quite odd indeed. "________-,"

You interrupt him.

You're not an interrupting type of person; there had never been a time in your life for as long as you could remember in which you were in a temperament other than pleasant, and happy for reasons unbeknown to you. You placed a hand upon his mighty paw, the great hand that had been against cold metal and away from a pulse for so long, and stilled the twitch that was not to stop on its own.

"You are what you do," you tell him, "And from what conflict I see in you, I can see someone who will soon be without a purpose at the rate you work your way around the city. I work with children, little babies and their squirming bodies, their fickle temperament. And I see you, and I see a man who came into this world covered in blood, and not afraid to leave the same way," you feel a tear fall from your eye, splash upon the top of his shoe, "You have seen awful things and done them and yes, you are what you do, but Frank, you are what you love, not what loves you," you feel another tear, and another fall. "I'm nothing to you. Just a nurse. But it kills me to see you like this."

He nods. The pair of you are quiet for the rest of the evening, until he disappears into the night.

---

You are what you do.

You are what you love, not what loves you.

And after these times, after all what he has been through, it has taken this long to realise that, and all because of a little nurse with a heart bigger than he can comprehend has uttered it. After all of it, Frank Castle takes a week off, sitting upon the single bed in his bunker, sitting with his head between his knees. His enemies see him as a man who is not afraid to wash his face in their blood, to grin as he descends to hell. It's true. But as of late, he is also a man who is not afraid to cry on his own, to turn the photos around of the family he once had, who is not afraid to look at himself in the mirror and stare at the face looking back at him without hating it for once.

But it takes a week for Frank Castle to realise that even though he's done all that he has, and he doesn't relish war but the triumphs it brings after. It takes a week for Frank to realise that he loves the neonatal nurse from the Metro-General, and war loves Frank Castle, and it's then a week later he finds himself at her door.

Knocking.

"_________ -," he goes to knock once more, but the door is open, and her arms are around his own, and he's being pulled into her one-bedroom place and honestly, it just feels right. "How - how'd you know, doll?"

She laughs, pulling his lips to her height, and kisses him with all the force she can muster. "I'm pretty sure I know when I'm in love with the guy who needs me to sew up his sores and kiss it better." He lays his forehead against hers - because it's so very true, and hell, Frank knows it. "I can't cure history, but I can help forge a future. And don't tell me I could get hurt with you, we both know I can take care of myself -,"

He shakes his head, interrupting, " - just kiss me, ________," he whispers. "Make it better."

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle/reader #punisher x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics

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