#i woke up this morning and this was more or less my first coherent thought

[ronearoundblindly]

Hit By Fate

a Steve Rogers x Reader life lesson

[This is my own entry for my 1-1-1 Challenge, but also is a very belated gift fic for @itickledthesleepingdragon. May we all remember that we are worth care and consideration!💜] WC 2365

Recommended links: Habibi Through The Years--The Old Guard fandom, Joe/Nicky (Ao3) Invaluable--Star Wars fandom, dad!Obi-Wan

Summary: It's just an accident, and you're totally fine. One handsome man, however, does not agree.

It’s not their fault; it’s just bad luck.

You should have texted to confirm this morning, but since Syd told you she’d text you if anything changed, you didn’t want to pry. Your friends make enough fun of you already for never coming out. You didn’t want to give them one more story in their long list of times you bailed. They already think you’re allergic to fun, so tonight you were going to show them.

You’d rushed to the restaurant after work. You even woke up early to do your hair before work so that you’d still look nice. You brought a purse to transfer your wallet and keys and makeup into so as not to carry your much larger work bag around. You even drank less water the entire afternoon so you wouldn’t be rushing to the restroom and slowing down your cross-city commute.

But then you arrived and there was no reservation.

Not under anyone’s name.

The hostess seemed outstandingly indifferent to your situation. You stepped aside for other patrons, sneaking peeks through the wonky glass dividers to catch a glimpse of your friends at a table maybe, and you texted one.

>>Hey.

<<Whaddup? Tiff replies.

>>You guys here yet?

<<Where?

You give the name of the restaurant and feel your guts crash to the polished wood floor.

<<We were there earlier. Yeah. Why?

Your hands start to shake with anxiety and a touch of rage.

>>I thought we were meeting at 7

The dots show up and disappear. The hostess huffs, staring at you while striking through a line on her paper. You’re blocking one of four total doors to enter the building, but apparently, that’s still taking up too much space.

<<Syd and Karol got off at 4 so we just had drinks early

<<TGIF

<<On a pub crawl now

They know you still work tomorrow. They know you likely would barely drink at dinner. You know exactly why no one would bother asking you if you could get out of work early, and you know they would not try any spontaneous fun for your first time out in months. They didn’t ask because they knew you’d say ‘no,’ or even worse, they knew you’d say ‘yes’ but be uncomfortable the entire time.

You try to call Syd, a last-ditch effort to get a lock on just how drunk or how far away they are. You tell yourself that if they are close and seem relatively coherent (and if the bar serves some small plates of something because you are hungry) then you’ll go. You will absolutely go.

Syd doesn’t pick up. You try Karol. No dice.

Fine. You turn to ask the hostess if there is space at the bar to eat, but she looks at you with such annoyance and a raised finger while she handles a couple who clearly out-rank you in some way.

Defeated, you leave instead.

This whole thing has taken so little time that you’d have to wait another ten minutes for the next bus back. You just walk, staring down at your phone, willing one of them to talk to the other, willing one of them to realize they’ve left you behind.

Do they even care that they’ve done it? Are they even your friends anymore?

The sad part is that you don’t go out much, but these are the friends you go out with the most. It just so happens that’s a few times a year, and that is you trying. This is you pushing yourself.

It’s not good enough.

Just as the WALK sign lights up at the street corner, the dots show back up under Syd’s message, and you shove it closer to your face.

You don’t see it coming.

A cab’s bumper smacks your left leg and bats you sideways. The solid hit feels like a tumble on the ice rink. It spins you, your phone flying out of your hands, and you’re scrambling not to fall. Your muscles tense every which way that’s not natural, probably looking klutzy.

You shoot back up too fast and look around, wondering if people are staring at you now, but the few other people crossing simply walk on by.

The cabbie only rolls down his window.

“You okay?”

Not actively concerned. Not getting out of the car. Not even apologizing.

But if you’d kept walking, you’d be across already. If you weren’t just standing there, the cab would be able to turn and so would the several others behind him.

One honks.

“Fine,” you say quietly, waving him on for emphasis and stepping back to find your phone.

All the effort of the day, all the preparation mentally and physically, and you are stranded on the wrong side of the road, exactly where you started, metaphorically and near-actually run over.

You have to crouch down by the curb and pray your phone didn’t slide into the gutter, wincing at a particular angle that shoots pain up your left thigh. Maybe you aren’t fine.

“Miss?” a tentative, low voice calls above a classic pair of Converses on the sidewalk. “Think this is yours.”

A man in glasses and a ball cap hands your phone back, the screen mercifully intact.

It’s such a tiny blessing in this string of unfortunate events.

The breath you take turns into a whimper and ends in a sniffle. Tears sting your eyes as you start to think about what happened—what really happened—in the past minute.

“Thank you,” you choke out, snatching the device. The gesture seems aggressive after the fact. “Sorry. Thank you,” you try again.

“You okay?” How the same two words can sound so different from two people, you’ll never know, but the difference floors you harder than the car’s impact.

With the utmost care, the stranger’s hands lightly touch your shoulders and guide you out of the road.

“I’m fine.” You’re an automated recording, retreating to a quiet and lonelier space in your mind. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You got hit by a car,” he says bluntly.

“No, just a—“ you look up into the man’s face, his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, his height “—graze.”

“Yeah, you got grazed by four thousand pounds.”

“You’re…” All you can do is point at Captain America’s chest and blink.

He frowns and whispers. “You recognize me?”

Somehow that’s the strange part?

“Shoot. The glasses usually work. Don’t…please don’t make a big deal, but I…I’m sorry I couldn’t pull you out of the way.”

Steve Rogers buries his hands in his jean pockets, folding himself more into the cover of his hoodie and leather jacket.

“You wanted to help me?” you croak.

He ticks his head in confusion, respectfully indicating that you’ve asked the one and only dumb question known to mankind.

“Why?”

You don’t even know what you’re asking about now. Why me? Why today? Why now? Why not? You don’t notice your hands are shaking until he grips them gently.

“I can take you to the hospital,” he offers.

“I’m fine.” The repeat earns you another frown. “I’m not…hurting,” you clarify.

“That’s called shock, sweetheart.”

Steve seems to catch himself and sighs.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is let’s find you some water and somewhere to sit, okay? I’ll check you out then.”

You nod immediately. He’s only half-turned when Steve spins back around.

“Not check you out check you out,” he mumbles, “just like a once over. No, not…” he sighs harder. “I am going to make sure you are alright.” Every word is strategically emphasized.

He leads you to the nearest bench. His head stays down the entire way to a newspaper stand to buy you a bottle of water.

You can tell by the way Steve monitors every move of the bottle to your lips that he fights doing it for you. From his overly attentive posture, you’re surprised he waits a whole minute to ask how you feel yet again.

Still stunned, honestly, but it’s not just your left leg that aches, it’s your whole body. That seems too pathetic to admit aloud, but if you say the ‘fine’-word one more time, he’ll surely carry you to the dang ER. He has that look.

Instead, you admit, “I’m hungry.”

A smile blossoms over his features. “I can help with that.”

The boyish glee with which Steve Rogers walks you (gingerly) to a nearby, hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor is endearing. You’re not a patient for those minutes, and when he orders for you both (there are three lines on the board and that’s the menu) while you claim a teeny tiny booth, you’re not a victim of your day.

When he tells you how he found this place originally, how it’s almost like the pizza he remembers from long ago but better, you’re not alone anymore.

“Were you going to get food when…” Steve trails off.

Maybe it’s the shock wearing too thin to mask the rest. Maybe it’s the hot cheese warming your insides and melting your anger. You spend the next ten minutes blabbing about what happened with your friends and explaining what you were doing when the cab hit you.

“So you weren’t even okay before the car?”

His words throw you for a loop.

“No, I mean, it was just a misunder—“

“You’re doing it again,” he cuts in. “You’re diminishing you in the picture.”

You take a long swig of your soda while staring blankly at him. You watch Steve realize you aren’t even going to impose on him for an explanation. He drops his slice on the plate and holds out his huge hands as props.

“The whole picture of your day, right?” His arms are wide, then he points at things on the table. “You told me about Syd and why it’s ‘fine’ that she changed plans for her own convenience. About Tiffany and Carly—“

“Karol,” you sputter mid-sip.

“Carol, right, sorry. Everyone has a -y in their names now. I just assumed.”

“Karol with a -k,” you add.

Steve…ponders whether that’s some sort of joke before waving his hands to regroup. “You told me how your other friends—using that term loosely—rationalize leaving you to eat or even navigate the city alone—“

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Debatable,” he chuckles. “And then you tell me about how the cab driver probably didn’t need the hassle of dealing with some minor injury he inflicted on—and I quote—‘someone.’”

His eyebrow pops up over the rim of his glasses as if that will drive his point home, but you’ve got nothing.

“Where are you in the picture?” he finally blurts. “It’s your time and your effort and your body and your safety, and you just told me everyone else is more important. They all deserve consideration before you in your own life. Including some driver who could have killed you!”

He’s getting visibly agitated the more he talks, and you shrink in the seat, not out of fear but out of guilt for taking an evening of Captain America’s time to yourself. If your friends couldn’t even stand to spend a meal with you, it makes sense that Steve would be annoyed with your company.

“Wait, there,” he points directly at your face, “what was that thought? What did you just think?”

“I—I’m sorry I—“

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Steve asks bluntly.

He must see your eyes glisten with more unshed tears because his whole body visibly softens.

“You showed up at the place you all agreed on—“ he counts on his fingers “—at the time you were told, and walked across a street with right of way.” He does what you are beginning to think of as his signature sigh. “Am I missing something?”

All you can do is chew on your bottom lip.

It takes you what feels like an eternity to notice. “I could have really been hurt,” you mumble finally. “That’s not okay.”

Steve stretches his long arm across the tiny table, opening his palm to await yours.

“I hate to tell you this. You don’t have to be torn open to be ‘really hurt,’ sweetheart.” This time he says the nickname with firm intention. He squeezes your hand. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d come to the infirmary with me and get some industrial-grade salve on what’s sure to be a nasty bruise.”

You smile sadly, still pushing away errant thoughts that you’re imposing on the Captain.

“And by the time that’s over…it’ll be time for a late-night dessert before I take you home.”

In the fluorescent light, you can see him blush fiercely.

“As an escort—escort you,” he corrects, “to your door, I mean. For safety.”

He shrugs uncomfortably to adjust his layers of disguise, hanging his head, this time to hide his face from you.

“If you ever wondered why I’d go out to pizza alone,” Steve whispers, “wonder no longer.”

He scoots across his side of the booth to stand.

You think for a long moment.

This is important. This is one of the most important men in the country—nay, the world—begging you to be the protagonist in your own life. He wants you to want that.

You deposit the last grease-crumpled napkin onto the stacked plates and clear your throat. “I like this picture,” you say first, but it’s not enough. It’s not loud enough. It doesn’t hold weight or take up its due space.

You try again.

“I like being in this picture.”

He’s tall and his gleaming white teeth are perfect and his bright blue eyes are framed by long lashes and he’s staring right at you. How could you not shoot your shot?

“I’d—“ you fight the urge to look away “—consider seeing a sequel, too.”

Steve pushes up his fake glasses and nods, still pink in the cheeks. His hesitation reads as shy, not polite, not dutiful.

He juts out an average, hoodie-covered elbow for you to balance on.

“S’pose that means I should know your name, miss, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream is.”

Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge Details

A/N: In case you were wondering, the life lesson I wrote Steve Rogers teaching us is one that I constantly struggle with, too. This is an everyday, uphill battle to recognize our own worth and know that taking care of ourselves is not selfish. I hope this serves as a wee reminder!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #captain america fluff

[besthimbomachine]

my love when it counted. 07

summary: With the approach of Wrestle Kingdom and his match with Ospreay, Kenny has to deal with both his feelings for you and his fears that his glory days may have come to an end. However, when he is leaving to Japan, he gets a big surprise as he sees you on the same plane as him. It just so happens that you too were going to Wrestle Kingdom. pairing: kenny omega x reader word count: 8440 warning: we going with the angst tag again babes, sorry, also mentions of blood, general wrestling violence and the effects it can have on the body so, it seems chonckster is a common trait of these chapters now, sorry I wasn't planning this. this one goes from well that happened to kenny don't to aaaaawww to strangely horny to sad, that's how I'd describe it. I swear the next one will have a sweeter ending. guest staring mercedes moné and will ospreay. originally, it was going to guest star okada too, but it got too big so we see him in the next one.

07.

The days following the Christmas party passed almost in a flash to Kenny. You’d left his home on Sunday and - after a mental breakdown in the shower - he managed to follow his previously determined plan. He worked himself to the bone in the gym and sure, maybe a small part of his brain reminded him that this wasn’t good for his health, but he needed it. Any pause was a chance for his mind to run a mile a minute, digging old pains and finding new ones. He needed the exhaustion to be able to just sit down in peace, and hopefully even get some sleep when night came. Kenny knew he couldn’t outrun his feelings, but he might as well try.

And so he did, pushing himself until his mind was barely coherent and every muscle and joint in his body were begging for mercy. Only then did he stop, almost finding relief in the pain as he dragged himself to a peaceful shower. Or a mostly peaceful one. Sure, he was too tired to overthink things this time, but he still couldn’t deny the messy state of his emotions. Between realizing he loved you and finding that goddamned ring, things weren’t quite so easy for him. Still, he tried hard to push these thoughts to the back of his mind and silence the ruckus of his heart.

It didn’t work quite as well, though. When Kenny sat down after his shower, ready to watch something completely stupid to numb his mind before he could sleep, he decided to check his phone. That’s when he saw a message from an unknown number. Opening it, he saw the photo, it was you. For a second, he just stared at your picture, not even reading the damn message. Tiny as it was, that was probably the first real glimpse he’d have of your life outside of work. It was also the first time in years that you had made any contact with him outside work. He had no idea how you’d even gotten his number

When Kenny finally read the message, he saw that it was essentially a thank you for the things he’d done the previous night. It was short but sweet, and you also reiterated how you were actually glad for his apology and how you hoped that you two could actually be friends. It also responded to his initial question. You said you’d gotten his contact from Nick, who had sent it to you so that you could thank Kenny. For a moment his mind went to how Nick, despite his nonchalant behavior, had been of more help in getting things to solve themselves than Matt, who had actually been trying. Damn, he was sure Matt would never hear the end of that himself.

It took some time for Kenny to know how to answer the message, laying on his couch just looking at the letters on the screen as he felt his heart making a ruckus again. Ultimately, he just ended up answering with something simple after giving up on thinking too hard about it. That night, he still laid awake in bed for a few minutes before he finally closed his eyes. The sleep that came to him was filled with a strange bittersweet calm, but at least it was a peaceful one.

He woke up on Monday feeling rested and less anxious. The morning sun shining through the windows brought him a soft sense of tranquility. He looked through his phone while still in bed, part of him wanting to see a message from you, though there was obviously none. His heart still ached a bit and his thoughts kept slipping back to you, but he managed to push through and follow his routine. Taking a shower, he prepared to go for a morning run. But before he left his room, he paused for a second, eyes looking at the bedside table as he tied his shoes.

That morning, Kenny changed the path of his run, making a route far from his common one. When he felt far enough from home, he threw the ring in the first river he could find. Let the waters carry the thing away, let them take this unhealthy attachment he was keeping to a past that wouldn’t return. He was a different person now, and so were you, and that thing belonged to a time long gone. It was better off this way. He almost felt lighter and more at peace.

Though, when Kenny came back home, his peace was quickly gone. He was scrolling through instagram while having breakfast when he saw a picture of you. And not one from a match, but from the party. It was in Nick's stories, the picture had you and him making some silly pose, and it had come from your account. That was the first Kenny had seen of your account in years, since your break up to be specific. You’d been pretty quick to just block him, no access to anything but your work on TV. To see this now could only mean one thing.

For a second he wondered if he should do what he was about to, finger hovering over the picture as he thought. Kenny knew he shouldn’t do it, he should just let this be and not feed the aching desire in his heart. Looking through your pictures would only make it yearn for something he couldn’t have. He should just let the damn thing starve, and maybe he could hope to be free. Though, he knew his chances looked slim. In the end, curiosity got the best of him, finger clicking on the photo as he bit on his bottom lip.

Looking through your profile felt weird to him. A strange reminder of how much of your life you lived without him ever hearing about it. Of all the people you knew in common, while your words still seemed galaxies apart. The first picture was the one he’d seen from the party, and even pulling such a stupid face, you still looked gorgeous. There were a couple more of you and Nick or Matt - mostly Nick, which made sense, you had always been pretty close to him.

There were also plenty of pictures of you on the beach. Kenny remembered clearly just how much you liked the sea and the sun, always taking any opportunity to spend a day out near the water. He had no idea how much he’d missed the sight of you, wet hair and bright eyes as your skin glistened under the sunlight. You were too damn beautiful, bikini framing your body as the water only worked to highlight your features. He couldn’t deny the effect the photos had on him, blood rushing downwards before he scrolled to go through your other pictures. He watched the shifts in your appearance and all the things that happened in your life that he never knew.

Afterward, Kenny decided to check your stories, sure, you could see he had looked, but he was past caring at this point. There were some pictures of the party, of you with Nick and others with Willow. There were also pictures of what looked like a small coffee shop - and of course a picture of your food. The next ones had already been taken at night in a bar. He saw a picture of you with Willow and one of your table, behind all the food and drinks he could see two other pairs of hands. The one in front of you he couldn’t recognize, but the one to your side seemed oddly familiar. His suspicion would be confirmed when the next thing rolled around.

It was a slightly shaky video, you were filming what seemed to be Alex Reynolds singing - badly - in the bar’s karaoke. Though, that wasn’t what caught Kenny’s attention. In the background, despite the owner not being visible, he could hear a booming voice he knew all too well. It was Adam.  The next video to come only confirmed it to him, it had been shot from the table again, looking over the karaoke stage. This time it was you, singing with Adam. With a swipe of his finger he left the video, screen going back to your profile. For a long second he stayed still staring at your picture, trying to ground himself to it. Swallowing hard, he pressed the follow button before looking away from his phone.

Kenny tried not to think about the burn in his mind. Tried to think of anything but the jealousy rising in his gut. He forced his mind to wander away from those, and he couldn’t help but think back to all the photos he’d seen. How he’d spied with curious eyes as the changes in your life unfolded before him. In the years you had become such a different person. Kenny had watched you from afar backstage a couple of times, in awe at how you’d become a more open person, despite the edge in your voice. You’d become stronger, more sure of yourself, more free, in and out of the ring. He knew the photos only told part of your story, but he tried to piece together what he could from them. 

He stopped in contemplation, looking back to your face on the screen. Truth is, he still loved you when you left, but that person wasn’t here anymore. But he still liked what you became. What he knew of you from the bits and pieces he could put together. From seeing you around backstage, seeing how you interacted with people, places, the job you had dedicated your life to. From hearing your voice through the walls and corners, cold rage or warm laughter. Even from how you acted around him, unafraid, unwilling to back down and always true to how you felt. 

Kenny had grown to love this new you. This wild, untamed thing that filled every space it entered with its presence. All this seemed stupid, you’d never even given him a chance, but his heart didn’t care. It took the old love and changed it, tore it down to use as the building blocks of something new. Something that gnawed at his sore chest like a starving animal, while filling him with warmth at the simple sight of your smile. A love he knew would probably die without an answer, but his heart just didn’t care. Putting the phone down, Kenny drank the last of his coffee before getting up. He couldn’t let his heart stop his life, no matter how much it tried. 

Time moved fast as December came to an end. Christmas passed, and New Years came and went, all the while, the ache in his heart only dulled, but never faded. Through these days he heard more from you, you’d replied to his message, and you even managed to maintain some conversation. It made Kenny happy to see that you were truly willing to mend these fences, truly willing to try and forgive him. On many days, he didn’t feel like he was deserving of that chance, deserving of your forgiveness. But he knew that wasn’t his call to make. So he tried to make the best of this chance, trying to build a new bridge where he’d burnt down the old one.

The year had barely started when Kenny found himself in a California airport, getting ready to make a long trip again. He’d gone to visit Matt and Nick before getting ready for a flight that would take about half a day. Wrestle Kingdom was just around the corner and that meant he had to go back to Japan for his match against Ospreay. Go back to a place he knew, now more than ever, would bring to the surface old memories and stab at his already aching heart. He had been trying to get ready for a while, he knew he’d need to be in his best state of mind if he wanted to win this fight. And by god, he needed to win it, to prove to himself that there was still a fire burning within him.

When Kenny got to the airplane, he managed to quickly find his place and sit down, the plane was mostly empty, so boarding had been easy. His flight had been booked near nine in the morning, a time people rarely choose for a trip this long. The good side of this is that an empty plane meant a peaceful flight. Relaxing on his seat, he pulled his phone from his pocket to mindlessly scroll while he waited for people to finish boarding, so the plane could take off. 

Pretty soon he found himself looking through your stories again. The first one was from earlier that morning, but the next was from not even twenty minutes before. It was in an airport. An airport that seemed oddly familiar to the one he was in right now. The next picture had been taken not even five minutes before, it was the view from a large window, a plane taking over most of the background. A plane with the name of the same company he was flying with. A text on the bottom of the photo read ‘off to the other side of the world, I guess’.

A thought crossed Kenny’s mind, but he couldn’t actually believe it. No, it couldn’t just be that. Still, since the plane hadn’t taken off yet, he got up from his seat, looking around through the scattered people in the seats. And sure enough, it was exactly as he had thought. To his surprise, he spotted you sitting on the row by the other side of the plane, not too far from him, actually. Getting up quickly, he tried to make his way silently to where you were, sitting by your side as you were distracted looking out the window.

“Thought you had said you’d never go back to Japan?” He asked, not at all surprised by the scared yelp he got in return.

“Holy shit, Kenny! Jesus fucking Christ, my heart,” you gasped, words hushed and breathless. He chuckled, muttering an apology as you recovered your breath before responding. “I’m gonna let you know I meant it. But a friend of mine is going to Wrestle Kingdom, and she invited me to go. It’s Mercedes Moné, by the way. She gave me more of an ultimatum than an invitation, even bought my plane tickets and everything.”

“Though luck I see,” Kenny replied, voice low as he made himself comfortable in the seat. “But I thought you knew I’d be at Wrestle Kingdom, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Guess I just didn’t think much of it,” you state with a shrug, “only person I really remember telling it was Nick.”

Kenny paused for a second, thinking about how he had just seen Nick and the man hadn’t told him anything about that. Not even a single mention. He could fucking guess why, though. He knew very well what Nick was like.

“Well, I hope you have a good time at least,” he said with a shrug. “And how is that ankle?”

“Much better,” your eyes perked up with the words, he had noticed you weren’t wearing the brace, and it was good to know you were doing better. “Got rid of the brace right before New Years, which was nice, but the doctor said I still need like two weeks before he can clear me.”

“Two weeks will pass in no time, you’ll see,” Kenny replied, smile tugging at his lips at the news. “But I’m glad to know you are getting better.”

“Thanks,” you responded with a smile of your own. “So, ready for your big match?”

“As ready as I can be, I guess,” Kenny tried to hide the worry in his words but failed, his smile twitching at the thought of the match.

“Do I sense some hesitation?” you asked cautiously, tone gentle and calm.

“Ah,” he hesitated, afraid of what you’d think of him, of how you’d see him if you just knew how tense that match made him feel. He was afraid of not really being able to make it through, and now he also feared what you’d think of him for it. But in the end, he chose to be honest. “This is pretty much my first big singles match after the injuries. I stayed out for almost a year, guess my blood is running cold, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” he watched your smile drop as you spoke, brows furrowing as you hesitated for a moment. “I had a back injury a few years back, needed a couple surgeries and all. Had to stay like six months away. Nothing compared to how long you stayed out, sure, but,” you stopped, sighing long and deep before you continued. “I know how hard it can be to actually come back.”

“Shit, I,” Kenny paused mid sentence, breath caught in his throat, this was the first he’d heard of that, “had no idea.”

“Really?” You laugh, amused at how he didn’t know. “Still got a scar on my spine to prove, I’ve just accepted that that one isn’t fading. But yeah, those six months were hell, I hated every single second of it. And afterward I spent the next three months fighting with this weight on my mind,” as you told that story he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes almost wavered, brows furrowed as your gaze fell to the empty space behind him, almost like you were lost in the memories. “I guess it just takes a while for you to really feel like you are back,” you shrug, giving him a small smile at the end.

“That sounds really terrible. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he almost mutters, voice low and somber as his hand instinctively touches your shoulder in a show of support.

“It’s nothing that you haven’t experienced yourself, but thanks,” you smile back at him, a sparkle returning to your eyes.

Seeing your face light up again makes Kenny’s heart feel lighter, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your arm before it leaves the warmth of your skin. Just the idea of you going through anything similar to what he went sends shivers down his spine. He remembered how impatient you could be, how much you hated it whenever you had to wait for the doctor’s clearance before you could fight. Six months sounded like a long time for anyone, but god, he could clearly imagine just how torturous it was to you.

“Besides, I’m here aren’t I?” You add, voice brighter this time. “Back to jumping from high places and putting myself in danger,” you pause, expression softening as you lay a hand on his forearm, touch firm but soft. “Listen, I know saying don’t worry sounds hollow but just put some faith in your body. If you’ve gotten to this point, it is because it carried you here. So, just put your trust in it and I know you are gonna obliterate this match.”

You punctuate your words by squeezing his forearm, thumb caressing his skin. Kenny smiles back to you, heart racing inside his chest as you look him in the eyes. He was glad for the kind words, his fears driven back to the corners of his head, sure to be kept at bay for at least the rest of the flight. When you take your hand away from him, he immediately misses your touch, the soft warmth it brought to him. This time, instead of wishing he could hold you, it’s the opposite. His heart yearns for the return of your touch, wishing you could hold him, chase away the doubts that hunt his mind. But he knows better than to dwell on that dream too long.

He thanks you for the support and changes subject, trying his best to keep his racing heart at bay. It’s best if you never learn of it, best if he just keeps it quiet. You two spend a good time talking, keeping each other company through the lengthy flight. This was the first time Kenny had been with you since that morning after the Christmas party. You had both kept in touch through messages, but it was good to actually be in your presence again, to be able to sit by your side and laugh together almost like you could before. It was a nice change of pace, and one he wouldn’t mind having more of.

After a while, you ended up falling asleep while you two watched one of the in-flight movies. The sight tugged at Kenny’s heart like nothing before. The softening of your features as your chest slowly rose and fell with each breath soothed him to his core. Sure, he’d seen you asleep after the party, but now, without the fear of how hurt you were or how you’d react when you woke up, it seemed even cuter. Pulling his coat that he’d left on the chair beside him, Kenny covered you, careful not to wake you up. In time, he too fell into unciousness, and there, by your side, he had the most peaceful sleep he’d gotten in a couple of weeks.

The flight to Japan ended up going easier than you expected. It was surprising to see Kenny on the same plane as you, but it ended up being something good. You had always hated long flights, it wasn’t anything about being afraid of flying, you just despised being stuck in the same tiny space for so long. In the end, having his company made things a lot easier. It was nice, not having that fierce hatred for him anymore. A side of you still feared if you’d made the right decision but, truth be told, there were still aspects of him that you had missed. You were happy to see that some of those still remained, but that he’d changed enough that his flaws no longer made even the good things unbearable. It was strange to admit, but if this version of Kenny had been the one you met years ago, things could have gone very differently.

The day after your flight, you met with Mercedes at the Tokyo Dome in the afternoon. Wrestle Kingdom would take place the next night, and she had to go see the installations and get acquainted with the place. You’d forgotten just how big that arena could be, how vast and almost overwhelming it could seem from the inside. And seeing it like it was now, almost completely ready for the show, it was easy to forget that it was actually a baseball stadium too. When you two finished looking through the place, she took you to get some backstage credentials, just so you could go meet her after her debut. But when you got there, you discovered that Kenny had already put your name on the list. Like you imagined, Mercedes refused to let you live this down.

When the night of the event finally came around, you tried to make your way to the arena earlier. This way you could avoid the crowd as much as possible and be able to meet Mercedes before the matches started. She’d managed to get you front row seats, which you were more than glad for. You spent the pre-show with her, only going to your seat when the pre-show was coming to a close. The only things you were really interested in seeing that night were the Women’s Championship, Mercedes’ debut, Kenny’s match and Okada’s one at the end. 

Soon after you found your place the first match started, it was the Tag Team Championship. Although you didn’t much care about it, it was a fun fight to watch. New Japan had always been entertaining, never a dull event, so you didn’t have much to complain about. It didn’t take long for the Women’s Championship match to start. This was an even better match than the previous one, there was denying that through your time in WWE you had missed deeply the energy you found in New Japan’s women’s league. In a way, it was good to be back to witnessing it live again.

After the match ended, Mercedes finally made her debut. She was incredible, gorgeous like always and someone with an undeniable presence. It was good seeing her leave to pursue other things, other places. Despite the weight of the memories you associated with this place, you were sure New Japan would treat her better than she’d been treated before. When the show was done, you took advantage of the small break to go see her backstage and congratulate your friend on her debut. You couldn’t stay too long, though, Kenny’s match was the next one.

You managed to make your way back to your place before the match started, sitting down just before the announcer started talking. It was weird seeing one of Kenny’s matches from the front row, instead of some TV stuck somewhere backstage. It was even weirder seeing it here, in Japan, a place you thought you’d never return to exactly because of him. Shaking your head, you tried to chase these thoughts away as Kenny’s entrance began. You’d caught a glimpse of him planning it the day before, but watching it now was something else. Sure, you found the Sephiroth cosplay a little funny, but somehow he managed to make it work.

For someone that seemed so hesitant back at the plane - to the point of almost seeming afraid - he felt powerful and unrelenting now. Kenny almost seemed like his old self again, the one you had been trying not to think about since stepping foot in Japan. As he walked into that ring he exuded power, like a chained beast finally set free, sky blue eyes filled with bloodlust. It was terrifying and beautiful, all at the same time. A sight to behold and one that appealed to the more instinctive parts of you, your body reacting to the view of his bare skin, his thick muscles highlighted by the stadium lights.

However, when the match started, your thoughts quickly shifted. Ospreay had clearly come with bloodlust himself, willing to do whatever he needed to take what he wanted from Kenny. Take what he saw himself as entitled to. There were a few times that even you found yourself worried about the outcome of the match - worse, worried about Kenny’s safety. Though, as the fight carried on, things started changing. Ospreay’s blood thirst just wasn’t enough, and it was quickly seeming like even himself was coming to that conclusion. Experience still proved itself a defining factor. And with every mistake Kenny capitalized on, the brutality heightened on both sides. 

The match was a high stakes game, and although Ospreay was a good fighter, he lacked the experience to see all the things Kenny could. He put up a good fight, but he came to the other side bloody, beaten and defeated. When the bell rang, Ospreay laid with a bloodied face and a broken mind, while Kenny stood clearly shaken, but still victorious. Shaking your head, you tried to push past all the feelings rushing through your mind - this was probably one of the most vicious matches you’d ever seen. Quickly, you got up, making your way to the backstage again, weaving through the corridors to find Kenny’s locker room. On your way past, you even passed a bloodied Ospreay being carried by his friends from Aussie Open.

When you finally approached the locker room, the sound of grunting and cursing hits your ears. Kenny’s voice sounded rough, like barbed wire ripping through his throat. It made you stop, right at the entrance, one hand resting on the door as you felt your stomach drop. Your bones shiver as your body reacts to a memory from so long ago. You could still remember how Kenny would get after an especially hard fight. After the ones so dangerously close, they would force him to push past the limits of what is sane to do to triumph.

In defeat, Kenny became clearly someone else. But even in victory, he would become angry, snapping at anyone around, uncaring about anybody but himself. It was an ugly thing to experience. One that was very uncommon, but still terribly unpleasant to be around for. One that had your breath catching in your throat as you hesitated before the door, afraid of what you’d open it to. 

Maybe it was all in your mind. Maybe you had just created this fear in your head. But you feared that being back in Japan might have had an effect on Kenny. Sitting in that arena, watching that match, you almost felt like you were seeing the old version of him again. You had watched all his matches in AEW since you joined, and not even the worst of them made you feel like that. But maybe, this was all just a manifestation of your fear of being back to the place where so much had happened.

Shaking your head, you try to push your worries away. It was silly to think someone could change so much just from crossing national borders. With a deep breath, you knock on the door before pushing it slightly. The thing groans a low but annoying sound, moving slowly as you slide one hand around it. Pressing your face into the small opening, you peek inside the room. Kenny turns his face just in time for your gazes to meet, but the person who greets you with a tired voice looks almost nothing like what you expected.

“Oh, hey,” Kenny says, but you barely hear, sound almost dying in the empty space between you.

“Hey there,” you reply quietly, only pushing through the door after he signals for you to come in.

You enter the locker room, finding him slumped on a chair, sitting in front of a large vanity. The man before you looks almost defeated, body slouched as he is still clad in his bloodied gear. His legs are sprawled before him, back curved in a position that doesn’t look all that comfortable, as Kenny holds an ice bag over his face. He takes a deep, harsh breath, and you can see the skin pulling tight around his muscles as his chest rises and falls. Moving with great effort, Kenny rests one forearm on the chair’s armrest, turning it around, so he can face you, an exhausted smile tugging at his lips.

“Holy shit,” you start, approaching him carefully, “you know that’s pretty much match of the year material, right?” You try not to convey just how uneasy you felt looking at his current state, worry coursing thick through your veins.

Kenny laughs at your words, a hoarse and pained sound that feels raspy to your skin. You rest your body back against the table mounted on the wall, hands gripping on the stone as you look over him again. He looks worse for wear, sweat still glistening over his body, skin marked by a thousand small scrapes. You can clearly see the veins popping on his thick arms, drawing winding roads on his muscles like an old map. There is dried blood on his body, and you can’t quite tell if it’s his or Ospreay’s.

He looks exhausted, and it worries you, but even in this sorry state you would be lying if you said he looked bad. He was disheveled, roughened, bruised in multiple ways, but he still managed to look good. Maybe more now than he ever did before. When you were still here in Japan, you had gotten used to Kenny seeming impervious, even at the end of a match. But now he looked vulnerable, less like the myth people had made of him and more like a human. This raw sight reframed him in a way that held a kind of crude beauty, one whose allure you couldn’t deny.

“The year just started,” Kenny responds in a low voice, he sounds so tired that it tugs at your chest, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“And you’ve already set the bar pretty high,” you shrug, letting your lips curl upward when he smiles at your retort. “So, how is the,” you trail off, gesturing to his face.

“Swollen,” he grunts, pausing for a second as he readjusts himself in the chair. “And very painful.”

“Can I take a look?” You ask, almost timidly. 

Many years ago that would have been second nature, you wouldn’t even need to ask. Just barge into his locker room and check the state of his body. But that was then and this was now, no matter what your muscle memory wanted to believe. Kenny sighs deeply, slowly nodding his head. Moving forward, you come closer to him, torso almost brushing with his large shoulder and arm. You are so close that you can feel the heat from his body, feel his breath on your chest.

You take one hand to the ice bag on his eye, fingers slightly touching his thick ones as you grasp the thing. Carefully, you pull the bag away from his face, holding it by your side as your other hand touches his face. You brush your thumb softly below his right eye, feeling the cold of his damp skin. Yeah, it was already swollen and darkening, despite the freezing ice bag. By the looks of it, he was probably already losing use of that eye, and he was certainly going to spend the rest of the night like that.

“Yeah, that’s not looking good,” you snicker, wincing at the sight before you.

“You should see the other guy,” Kenny responds, tired laugh escaping his lips as he looks at you.

He watches as your eyes squint, mouth pushing into a thin line. Yes, he knew it looked terrible, and he knew he probably looked like shit too. But when you touch his face, Kenny takes comfort in the warmth of your hand against him. Your fingers holding gently below his cheek as your thumb brushes softly over his bruised skin. It’s so tender, the way you check on him, almost like you used to all those years ago. But the moment is short lived, and you soon pull your hand away from his face, replacing your warm touch with the cold ice bag.

“Believe me, I saw him,” you laugh, bright eyes meeting his tired one. “He is looking way worse, all I could see of his face was blood. Needed two guys carrying him, even. You came this close to murder on live TV.”

The mention of Ospreay irritates Kenny, the visceral rage of the fight still boiling under the surface of his skin. Despite the exhaustion, he feels agitated, body still ablaze and unable to rest. It’s like all his senses are burning and screaming at the same time. And your proximity isn’t doing him any good. Kenny can smell your perfume, feel the heat of your torso so close to his face, and it has his heart racing even more than during the match.

“Come on,” he scoffs after a moment, laughing despite the pain flaring in his side. “He had no broken limbs, he is gonna be fine.”

Kenny sighs as you gently hold the ice bag to his bruise. He can feel your eyes roaming over him, burning his skin as you look for something in as bad shape as his face. There probably wasn’t any damage quite as visible but, damn, he would be lying if he said the rest of his body wasn’t in pain. His neck and side were on fire, and his spine was waging a personal war against him. Closing his eyes, he sighed, he had seen better days. 

Groaning, Kenny shifted in place, one arm reaching behind him as he tried to get to the ice bag between his back and the chair. As he struggled, eyes shut  from how his muscles burned at the movement, the feeling of your body pressing against his shoulders caught him off guard. Kenny opened his eyes in shock, held breath leaving his lips when he noticed you were trying to reach for the bag for him. He felt your hand stroke a line down his spine as it moved lower in the narrow space between him and the chair. It was only a moment before your fingers reached the ice bag, but to him, it felt terribly long, body humming at the touch.

“Where?” you asked, tone direct but still soft.

“Neck,” he muttered, not having the courage to try and search for your gaze. Kenny felt the cold touch of the bag meet the back of his sore neck, a low groan leaving his lips at the relief. “Thanks,” he whispered, hand reaching for the one over his eye, fingers brushing against your own, “I can hold this one, it’s alright. So, still thinking the other guy looked worse?”

“Oh yeah,” you laugh, “I definitely still do. You didn’t see the shape he was in. Even if you didn’t kill him, I don’t think that guy is gonna be all that well in the head after this,”

Kenny shrugs, curving forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he hears you laugh once more, sound filling the place. You draw your body away from him, but he can still feel your warmth, feel the gentle brushing of your hand over his back as you inspect it. The smell of your perfume refuses to leave his nostrils, refusing to release the chokehold it has on his brain. He almost feels intoxicated, a burn spreading through his body despite his mind’s struggle. It runs thick like honey on his veins, warming his core like molten lava.

Your fingers tenderly touch his skin in an especially sore spot, but Kenny makes no noise. He fears the loss of your warmth, the loss of the proximity he so much missed. Softly, your hand brushes over the scratches on his back, the sting barely even registering in his mind. If he closed his eyes, Kenny could even believe the touch was a caress. He knew he should move away, but he didn’t have the guts to - he felt like a coward, taking advantage of your worry to feel the ghost of something beautiful. Still, your warmth had him in a trance. Even if he couldn’t touch you, just the proximity had his body rumbling in response, a deep shudder running through his core. Flesh craving something his tired mind knows he can’t have.

It all feels like a siren's call, feeding the visceral flame that adrenaline just won’t let die. The bad mix of old memories and this primal blaze only making matters worse. There was still violence coursing through his veins, throbbing inside his head and clouding his judgment, as the fire in his blood still burnt hot. A part of him wanted nothing more than to fall back on muscle memory, let the phantom of better days take over his body. It begs to just take you right then and there, claim your touch like a coveted prize. Screaming to fall back into your old New Japan routine and push you against a wall, feel the bliss spread through his body at the feeling of your pussy stretching to take his whole cock.

“You still have a fight tomorrow?” You ask, making Kenny resurface from these primal parts of his mind as a shiver runs down his spine, he can hear the worry in your voice, and it makes him feel even worse.

“Yeah,” he responds, looking towards you just as you pull your hand away from his back, still holding the ice bag to his neck. “Don’t worry, though, the only thing I really need fixed is this eye, but by tomorrow night I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be able to open it again,” he gives you the best smile he can muster, hoping he doesn’t seem as clearly on edge as he feels. “Besides, it’s a tag match, anything happens I throw Okada in there, let him take the heat.”

“You are tagging with Okada?” You ask, amusement in your voice.

“Things change, I guess,” Kenny breathes out, shrugging again. “And don’t worry, it’s not like Aussie Open could do me in, I’m not so terribly rusty that some sidekicks could do the job.”

“God, you are so dramatic,” you laugh out, hitting his head slightly with the ice bag, when he mutters an ouch in response you only laugh more. “I never said you are rusty, stop reading into things,” you pause for a moment, placing the bag back in his neck as you shake your head. “And even if I had thought that - which I didn’t - you’d have proven me wrong with this match. It was terrifying. I mean, it was beautiful, but in a very gruesome way.”

“I will,” Kenny pauses, looking at you with an inquisitive eye, a soft chuckle bubbling in his chest, “take that as a compliment. And in my defense, Will had what was coming his way. If he was gonna walk around with his overinflated ego thinking he can sit at the adult’s table. Then, well, he can’t complain when he gets the taste of what it’s like on our side,” he stops again, brows drawing apart and expression softening, his voice losing the sharp edge it had suddenly taken. “Besides, he is one annoying prick.”

“He does seem like one,” you say in between chuckles, he can almost feel the soft rumble of the laugh in your chest from this close. “But I guess after that match he got a reality shock. Maybe a bit too much of it even,” you chuckle again, silently this time as you look to the side.

“Not really my problem if he is too much of a kid to keep a hold of his own head,” Kenny spats, voice rough with his aggression towards Ospreay, a scowl coming to his face for a moment before it’s gone.

“In a way, that’s his saving grace,” you muse, eyes meeting his again as you shrug. “He is lucky he is so young, that means he still has time to put in the work and actually become the best in the world. Right now, though, he wasn’t at all a match for you. That’s still your spot.”

“You are being too kind,” Kenny mutters, voice an almost silent rumble as he turns his eye back to the floor. That match had seemed a bit too even for his tastes, and in the back of his mind he was still worried if his days were coming to a close. He had won today, but he was starting to worry about the future.

“And you are being too humble,” you snicker, free hand giving his seat a hard nudge, shaking both the chair and him. The scare is enough to get his attention, his eye finding yours before you continue. “Don’t get me wrong, I prefer you like this than being a self-obsessed asshole, but you don’t need to take it that far. We both know you are still at another level, you just proved that.”

A small sense of relief washed over Kenny at your words. He had been tense for a while now, not only with this match but with everything else. Since his injuries led him to stay almost a year away from the ring, he had been very worried. Even now, there were days when he still didn’t really feel like himself. Sometimes he’d look at his reflection in the mirror and feel old, tired, a shadow of what he once was. In the depths of his mind, he wondered if coming back was the right choice, or if he was just swimming against the tide.

“I don’t know,” he chuckled, trying to make light of the fears that plagued his heart, but his gaze fell to the ground again, trying to evade the powerful pull of your eyes. “I’m getting old, the years have been wearing me down.”

“Come on, Kenny,” you call his name in a soft voice, sighing deeply, “if you start with that, I’m gonna start feeling old too.”

Kenny laughs, but the sound feels empty even to his ears. He knows you are trying to be supportive, but to him, just saying that out loud sounds funny. You weren’t about to hit forty, and damn, you barely even looked a day over thirty. And that wasn’t just his opinion, he knew that, and if you needed proof all he’d have to do was open twitter. Or not even that, Kenny had seen how Ospreay had looked at you when you crossed paths at the stadium earlier tonight, and he knew you weren’t so impossibly oblivious. 

“Now, that’s a lie,” he responds, shaking his head, some laughter still echoing through his voice. “You are, like, six years younger than me. It’s not the same.”

He feels you hit his head with the ice bag again, and yet again he mumbles an ouch, only to have you laughing at him once more. Kenny doesn’t mind, though, it was better having your laughter filling his mind than his own thoughts. Besides, seeing you smile made him feel warm inside, and it almost managed to quell the constant raging of his heart.

“You know that isn’t enough to change the rate at which we age,” you state with a certain tinge of humor, placing the ice bag back in its place just as he glances at you before looking back down. “A year wears you just as much as it wears me, it’s the same for us both.”

“Doesn’t seem that way when I look at you,” Kenny mumbles with a chuckle, before realizing he had actually said it out loud, his one good eye widening as he swallows hard.

Shit, he hadn’t meant to do that. It was supposed to be just a thought in his head and nothing more. Last thing he wanted was to seem like he was trying to come on to you in any way. Now he sat there, tense, blood running cold in his veins. There was a moment’s pause before you spoke, and the silence seemed loud in his head, the bell ringing in the background seeming like it was going to explode his ears and shatter his bones. 

“I’ll take the compliment,” you reply with a soft laugh.

It sounds warm and nonthreatening, and Kenny finally gains the courage to look back to you again. God, you are gorgeous, and he can feel his damn heart speeding up once more at the sigh of your smile. Your eyes hold his own in their powerful pull for a moment that seems to last an eternity to him. He has to break away from their spell as he feels blood rushing to his face, he’d rather have some dignity by the end of the night. Pushing the ice bag you were holding to his neck to the side, Kenny gets up, stretching his sore back as he does so. It cracks as he curves backwards, and he is pretty sure it was loud enough for you to hear.

“Anyway,” he shakes his head, taking away the bag that was on his eye and blinking twice before turning back to you fully, “aren’t you going to watch Okada’s match? I think that was the bell.”

“Shit,” you exclaim, Kenny watches as your eyes go wide, and you look back to the door before looking at him again. “Do you mind? I mean, if you need help, I could-”

“Nah, it’s ok,” he cuts you off with a smile, waving a hand in front of his face before signaling for you to give him the ice bag back. “I’m gonna find some TV to watch it from. You got front row, just go have fun.”

Just as you close the door, Kenny is left alone with his thoughts, body falling heavily back on the chair. The poor thing groans under his weight, shaking from the sudden force that hit it. His muscles felt like lead, an anchor pulling him down. He hurt all over and sure, he had won, but god, did he have to fight for that. In the end, Ospreay wasn’t good enough to beat him. He had proven his strength to everyone, but especially to himself. So, why the hell was he still so uneasy? Why was there something pulling him down so heavy that it made his heart sink?

Your words continued to ring loud through his head. Will Ospreay was still young, he still had time on his side. That made him fear. Time was now his worst enemy, corroding his body like water to metal, every day coming closer to the end. He was no longer the man he had been before, the pains of a match lasted just a bit longer, injuries took more time to heal. He could no longer take much of the back to back fighting he did while in New Japan, and in time, even his strength would fade. 

Kenny had been feeling the years, like the constant ticking of a clock that tortured him, each day coming closer. And sometimes, when he looked at you, he felt them even more. While the passing of time seemed to be eroding his body, it seemed to be doing the opposite to you. Like the ticking of the clock took favorites, a cruel god with immaculate tastes. Time had made you better, stronger, more successful. And in appearance, you didn’t look a day past thirty. Closer in age and looks to Ospreay than to him.

Kenny felt that deep into his aching bones, a fear that crawled through his veins and seeped into his mind. Maybe you would be better with someone like Ospreay - or even Adam - than with him. Someone with the potential to do more, to conquer more, and maybe offer you more than he could. Kenny felt old. Looking at his beaten appearance in the large mirror, he felt that his glory was quickly coming to an end. The man standing before him, only a fading reflection of what he once was. And you deserved better than that, better than someone who, soon, wouldn’t be able to accompany you in your prime. 

sponsored by: @xladyxfatex @wanderbreadsworld @madds-97 @morgan-bucks @tahiri-veyla @slut4kennyomega @of-twilight-and-moonshadow @himbos-hotline

#kenny omega x reader #kenny omega #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #aew imagine

[ddarker-dreams]

hxh chapter 395

IT HAS BEEN 22 YEARS SINCE CHROLLO WAS FIRST REVEALED IN THE MANGA... 23 SINCE HE WAS FIRST MENTIONED... AND FINALLY........ WE ARE GETTING HIS BACKSTORY . all in god’s (togashi’s) timing. i literally couldn’t believe my eyes when i woke up to baby chrollo on the tl wednesday morning. i’m just now getting the time to scribble down all my thoughts that have been haunting me since then. is any of what i’m about to say coherent? probably not. i’m just so excited that i can barely put it into words. like. how am i supposed to function. i sure don’t know. i’ll put all my screaming + rough analysis under the read more then summarize what new things we learned about chrollo and the phantom troupe. idk how to format this so i’m sorry for anyone who braves the abyss below. anyways , without further ado ... 

(the link to the chapter for anyone who is curious)

nobunaga frames the flashback with the statement “fueled by despair and anger, we were searching for a purpose...” which more of less confirms the widely accepted notion that the phantom troupe was formed to give these people something to do. after reading that, i was expecting to go into some depressing stuff right away, but instead we get to see the baby phantom troupe members kinda roughhousing each other? acting like lil rascals. so i’m assuming nobunaga’s statement comes into play a bit later. 

the spiders seem to have been split up into smaller cliques before they eventually formed together, these groups being chrollo/franklin/shalnark (HIS LIL MISSING TOOTH OH MY GOD), machi/uvo, and phinks/feitan. 

this more altruistic viewpoint further convinces me that something major must’ve happened for chrollo’s worldview to shift so drastically. here and throughout the rest of the chapter, we can see him championing the cause of sharing knowledge with others around his age instead of hoarding it. this immediately sets him apart from the uvo/machi and phinks/feitan cliques who want to keep anything remotely valuable to themselves. Hmm.  

i could be wrong, but the architecture of this church having crosses + pews seems reminiscent of the abrahamic religions, leaning more toward catholicism perhaps? this must play into chrollo’s fascination with catholic aesthetics in his adulthood. it seems that compared to the rest of meteor city, this church was somewhat of a safe haven. 

NGL it’s kinda funny little baby chrollo looked @ phinks and uvo and went hm. yeah those dudes are definitely not the church crowd. baby chrollo being able to teach himself various languages just from watching tapes that everyone else his age finds too boring to sit through though... he’s always been a little genius. interestingly enough, the compliments on his intellect never seemed to have gotten to his head? he always took them in such a good-natured way. he seemed like such a kind boy... meteor city’s elders mention how bright he is in the next page too. i wonder what they expected from little chrollo though? 

“perhaps he could be of use to the elders? you think he may be able to solve the problems plaguing the city...” 

very curious to know if they meant now or when he’s older. anyway, the elders took an interest in him from a young age, only for chrollo to completely disregard them when he became an adult (chrollo stealing one of their abilities for his fight against hisoka). 

i’m in ABSOLUTE agony. while this interaction is so cute, i can’t help but think about how paku prioritized chrollo’s life despite his philosophy that ‘the head of the spider [himself] can always be replaced’, which lead to her own death 🙁 OUCH OUCH IT HURTS... her care for chrollo and the troupe ran so deep. now we get to kinda see why. chrollo so brazenly telling paku that he loves her when it’s very likely she’s rarely (if at all) heard those words growing up in a place like meteor city......................... ah...........AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 

HE’S A LITTLE GENIUS!!! LOOK AT HIM GO !!! 

‘no way he was born here...’

it makes sense that chrollo ended up getting voted to be the leader of the troupe since his intelligence has been universally praised all along. a smart lil guy. i really can’t get over the fact he did all this just so the other kids could understand/enjoy the cartoon more 😭😭😭 that just leaves me with the same, pressing question that machi has here... 

‘is that chrollo?’ 

she must’ve been shocked to see him go from :D to :| ........... what happened to my MANS...

#phantom troupe #chrollo brainrot #lock reads hxh

[nat-seal-well]

Werewolf (WIP) Wednesday

I’m on my lunch break right now and I figured I would share a little bit of the original thing I’ve been working on <3 it’s been a long time since I last wrote anything original, so we’ll see how this goes, lol.

(TW for emetophobia)

Lauren Huntley wakes the same way she does about once a month, which is to say she wakes sore, with her head at an angle that sends pain shooting up the back of her skull, and covered in something that is sticky. Or was sticky, once. It’s dry now and tight across the exposed stretches of her skin, like a second epidermal layer.

All of these things are not unusual. They are not unusual on their own, anyway. Desperate, Lauren can handle them, like tasks to address and cross off on a list one at a time. All at once is an entirely different story. She pries her eyes open and then shuts them closed again when her ailments bombard her, as if doing so will make them go away, like they had before she first woke.

It doesn’t work like that, her brain says idly. Technically, it was all still there before you opened your eyes. You just weren’t away for that.

To which Lauren tells the lump of fat in her skull, Thanks for that.

It occurs to her a second later that she actually has a brain to have stray thoughts again in the first place. Maybe she shouldn’t be so hard on her wandering mind, after all. Having actual, coherent musings is a luxury she’s learned to appreciate after all these years. Most people wouldn’t consider it to be a luxury at all, and rather a normal part of everyday life, and being—you know, human—but then again, that’s most people. Lauren stopped being a part of the majority a king time ago. For better or worse. And usually it’s for the worst.

As nice as lying in place for the rest of forever sounds, she knows she has to get up and start moving at some point. Might as well get it over with.

Light overhead blinds her when she opens her eyes a second time. She has to blink it away before they can adjust, but she already knows what it is. The source can only come from one thing. Besides, the rest of her senses already have enough information gathered to put together a general picture of where she is. More or less.

The sunlight is warm and early-morning yellow, pale like the shade of a child’s bedroom wall. (Lauren’s was never that color, but she had a friend whose room was, and it reminds her of fresh days and cereal bowls after late-night sleepovers.) She is flat on her back and facing the sky, and it would be almost pleasant if it weren’t for the mud under her. And all the other things that are already bothering her. The bubbling of a river at her side is a nice touch, though. She’ll have to thank the other her for choosing such a nice place to black out after… all of it. Even if she ended up deciding to use a rock as a makeshift pillow.

As wakefulness returns to her, she finds she’s grateful for the moving water more for than just the soothing background noise it provides.

Lauren fights against the aching in her bones so that she can haul herself upright and into a sitting position. There is a—a taste in her mouth. She recognizes it in a sort of twofold way. There is the other her, the one who was responsible for it. That version revels in the gamy lingering on her tongue and the tang of iron. But unfortunately, that one is not at the forefront at the moment, or in charge of all the controls. If she was, Lauren wouldn’t be here, in this physical form, gagging at the persistent flavor of raw, massacred—is that elk?—still in her mouth. And because it’s this version of her, she lurches to her knees so she can make for the undergrowth by the riverside, where she promptly empties the entire contents of her stomach onto the forest floor.

Elk. It’s always elk. Lauren hates elk.

#sealy writes #oc stuff

[blubushie]

how do you deal with going nonverbal?

I'm not nonverbal, just semi-verbal. There's times I lose my ability to talk completely, but at the end of the day I still have the ability to talk just fine when I'm not having a Moment, so I don't use the term "nonverbal" or "nonspeaking" since (from what I've seen) that's usually reserved for people who don't have the ability to talk at all ever.

When I have a Moment my speech gets a little fucked up and I speak in short and simple sentences since it's hard to articulate my thoughts but I can still talk, and it's not distressing to do so. I'll talk until I'm either fully verbal and articulate again (this might take an hour or so, depending on whether or not it was caused by something or if it was just random), or until I'm too exhausted and just don't feel like speaking anymore (this is rarer than the former).

Intense situations (whether it be emotional or physical) fuck up my ability to talk, but sometimes it also just comes on randomly. It also happens when I get physically excited--whether it's arousal or just adrenaline doesn't make a difference. I lose my ability to talk coherently during a root and I lose my ability to talk coherently while wrestling a crocodile or handling venomous snakes.

I also lose my ability to talk the more tired I get. If you're in the Discord you might've noticed me speaking in shorter and shorter sentences the later into the night it gets, or me mentioning that I wake up early but don't really come online until about an hour after I wake up. That's because I can't articulate my thoughts until I'm really awake. Need my morning coffee first!

To get an idea of what it sounds like, here's some idea of how I sound when I'm having a Moment (taken from messages I exchanged with a mate while I was half-asleep):

Yeah. Distressing. Varies from people to people. To bushie. ... Bogans yes. Many. Logan worst. Bushmen no ... Logan. Brisbane suburb. Crime big. Heaps bogans. All cunts ... World was worse place two hundred years ago. So many good things. Civil rights. Medicine. More peace. Better than it was. Less suffering. If bushmen going extinct is product. So be it. Not only person in world ... Have had time. No point sulking. Helps no one ... It happens. C'est la vie. Or something. Don't speak French

As you can see I can still talk, my sentences are just short and simple. Filtered. I give very blunt answers. Lots of yesses, lots of no's. If I'm giving a single "Yes" or "No" as an answer ("Yes.") then that's your warning that I'm having probably having a Moment. That doesn't mean not to talk to me! I'm fine to talk when I'm like this! My sentence structure is just weird because it's difficult to articulate my thoughts. That's not the same as not wanting to talk. If I didn't want to talk I just wouldn't be talking.

It's less embarrassing online since people I interact with know it's a thing (or at least are aware that Something's Up when I get like this) but it's more embarrassing in person and especially if I'm being intimate with someone since I can't talk well enough to explain why I'm suddenly unable to talk, so I usually give them a warning beforehand. "My head gets cloudy sometimes when I do this. Sometimes I can't talk. I promise I'm fine. If I want to stop I'll pinch you." That usually works, but there's been I reckon two times where someone didn't want to continue after that because they were worried about me having a Moment and not being able to tell them to stop if I needed to. That sucks, but I understand it. I wouldn't want it on my conscience neither.

Mostly "dealing with it" is just calming down (if I'm worked up) and waiting for it to pass or, if it's because I'm tired, going to sleep or (fully waking up if I just woke up). Like I said, it's not distressing at all! Just a mite annoying at most!

#blu whos

[fonulyn]

My turn, my turn, my turn.

1: Which fic did you finish and go, "Well, I didn't see that one coming"?

2: Which fic were you surprised did as well as it did?

3: Which fic did you feel sad to finish?

oh fun! :D

lol okay i (surprisingly) couldn't pick just one so here's my top contenders and my reasoning for them.

heal the scars and change the stars (Piers/Leon, getting back together, near death for Leon but what else is new :'D) lmao this one came to me in a dream, i literally woke up all "okay then" and had to then work it into a bit more coherent thing, but it ate at me until i did so. but yeah didn't see it coming, my subconsciousness cooked it up from somewhere lol.

also life healed like a wound (we will be alright) (Piers/Leon, breaking up and getting back together) was a similar thing, I woke up one morning with the breakup scene seared into my brain and I just had to write it. but of course I couldn't let them be unhappy so i also had to fix it! i thought i'd write a couple of fics for this pairing, but somehow it ended up taking over my heart in a storm. now this series has over 100k words and i've written like a hundred fics of the pair so :'D we all see how that turned out.

my jaded heart is yours to poison with your flame (Krauser/Leon, DC-ish) was also something similar, I played Darkside Chronicles with my brother and I thought I'd just write one quick fic to get the pairing out of my system :'D surprise, lmao, to this day it remains one of my top fave pairings :'D

there are others, too, that I never thought I'd write but somehow did. the Chris/Wesker smut, it's not a pairing I'd be particularly into but the fic demanded to happen, or the Adam/Leon companion piece for Tir's fic that I legit still don't understand where it came from :'D, or the monsterfucking series considering I thought I'd forever be too chickenshit to write any of it, or the Krauser's back series I firmly thought would be just one fic but turned into a trilogy :'D

or last chance garage (ot3 retirement fic lol) that was supposed to only be a quick 2k at most, but turned into 8k somehow before letting me go. not complaining, i think it turned good, but it wasn't exactly the intention lol.

2. the angsty answer is that the ones i desperately want to do well never seem to, and then the ones that actually do well are some random things i just threw out there lol. the less angsty answers are:

outside of the RE fandom I'm legit surprised that nobody's perfect (TOG, mostly a group fic tbh) got so popular, it's a feelgood "I think I'm funny" kind of fic lmao and it's got almost twice the kudos to the next most kudosed fic of mine. i mean it was fun to write, it still makes me smile, but i thought some of the more serious fics i put much more thought into would be better received :'D not complaining, it's nice that the feelgood fic did well. another one i'm surprised about is the super old kpop fic (Resurgence) that I reposted on ao3 on request, because holy shit i've never gotten that many comments ever. not even when I was actively in that fandom.

in the RE fandom I'm mostly surprised that now drunk on lust I drown in you (forever within I'm lost in you) (Chris/Leon, get together pwp) was as popular as it was. it was supposed to be a quick short pwp, it ran away from me, and i guess that's a good thing :'D also my first fic in this fandom, we didn't know how to fly so high (burned down before we reached the sky) (Chris/Leon, getting back together, idk what else random tropes), i... when I posted the first chapter it got exactly one comment and I thought "oh well, might as well finish anyway" and it was supposed to be my first and last RE fic. but looking back at it now? it's accumulated quite a nice amount of feedback over the years, which is nice :)

also the Leon has a son, surprise! -series did surprisingly well lol especially since the second part has an OC-centric pairing.

3. short answer is none, really, because i'm in general always happy when I get something done and finish a story! it's such a nice feeling of accomplishment when i can look at a complete fic and let it be free.

but I suppose that when I'll finally wrap up the self-indulgent series it'll be a bittersweet moment and i'll be sad to let it go. although right now i've been stalling with it anyway. feelings are complicated. but yeah, that series has been a part of my life for so long it'll require some mourning when it's gone.

#thanks for the ask :D #lol it's kinda nostalgic #looking at old fics #me and my fics #ask and i shall answer #attackpoodle

[sinner-as-saint]

Night Hours

Mob!Bucky x Reader

Run-through: Bucky wakes you up in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep, and he knows you can help with that. 

Themes: fluff, smut

a/n: just a little something before i get started on my assignments ily. 

You sensed movement behind you. Followed by a strong, muscular arm circling around your waist and pulling you into a warm, taut chest. 

You waited, waited for the pair of soft lips. And eventually, they found their way to you; kissing your shoulder, along your neck, your jaw and behind your ear. You felt a warm, soft puff of air fanning the side of your face and you stirred, pushing your butt back into the warm body behind you. 

You heard a soft groan. “Are you awake, baby?” His sleepy voice asked, deep and chest rumbling as he spoke. 

Fuck, that voice itself was your undoing. It took you a few seconds to open your eyes and blink away the sleep and the first thing you noted was the way his fingers were slowly tracing imaginary shapes on your skin. You immediately knew where this was headed. 

“Bucky… it’s two in the morning.” You stated. 

He chuckled softly, leaning in closer to press a kiss on the shell of your ear. You shivered and he noticed. “So you are awake.” 

You couldn’t help but melt under his touch. “No, you woke me up. There’s a difference.” You were quick to reply. 

“Whatever. But now that you’re awake....” he trailed off as his hand lowered, and lowered until his fingers found themselves in between your legs again. 

Your body came alive instantly, recognizing his touch. Your back arched against him, pushing your butt more into him. Just a few hours ago, you both had fucked until you were worn out and now here he was - insatiable still. 

“Bucky…” You meant for it to come out as a reprimand but it came out as a pathetic moan. Behind you, Bucky chuckled again as he slowly, lazily pushed his knee in between your legs, separating them as his fingers explored your skin. 

“Hey,” he nipped at your shoulder. “I can’t sleep, and all I want is for my wife to give me some warmth and love, and attention, is it too much to ask?” He asked, lips brushing against your skin. 

You sighed, leaning more into his touch, your body betraying you by grinding your hips against his hand, urging him to give you more. “No it’s not…” Your voice was barely a whisper. 

He hummed. “That’s what I thought.” 

“Whatever. I’m too lazy to move though. Help yourself.” You murmured as you slumped back against him, wanting his touch more than anything but you were also tiptoeing on the fine line between fighting to stay awake and giving in to sleep. 

Oh. He was more than happy too. “Thank you, baby.” He kissed your ear again and parted your thighs even more as he pressed his naked lower body against yours, sliding his cock inside of you. He groaned once he slipped his cock all the way in and you whined in pleasure as he filled you up. 

You waited for him to move but he didn’t. Just the length and size of him stretching you deliciously. He was completely still, except for the delicate movement of his body as he breathed in and out. You, on the other hand, were desperately trying to get some friction. Just something, anything. 

You moved your hips forward a little bit, and then moved back, his cock sliding just an inch or two in and out of you as a result; making you moan shamelessly. You did that again, and again and despite it all, he refused to move. 

Your sleep was chased away by your desire by now, you were desperate. For him, his cock. A dark chuckle from him sent shivers down your spine. 

“Look at you, like a little kitten in heat. Desperately trying to fuck yourself on my cock.” Arrogant words, followed by a gentle kiss on your shoulder. You trembled. “Didn’t you say you were too lazy to move? What happened now?” You could hear the triumph in his voice. 

You should’ve known. Your husband and his wicked games. 

“Please…” You whined, knowing you couldn’t win this one. You needed him, bad. “Buck, please… I need you.” 

He cooed, mocking you. “Aww, are you begging for my cock, baby? At two in the morning?” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You shameless, absolutely incorrigible and insatiable woman…” he teased as he licked along your neck, his hand moving gently in between your legs again; rubbing slow, deliberate circles around your throbbing clit. 

You were an absolute mess; his hands, his words, his cock - too much all once. You begged, please, please, please. And he chuckled at each one of your pleas, earning more and more out of you as he teased you until you were wide awake with nothing but filth on your mind. 

He still wasn’t moving, kept his cock snug inside of you. His self-control was something you admired. He could be desperately craving something, anything, but he would still find a way to have someone, anyone, offer it up to him on a platter as though he had been entitled to it for the moment he laid eyes on it, or even thought about it. Your husband’s power to take control was truly remarkable. 

And right now, even though he wanted you, he wanted you to want him even more. He wanted you to shamelessly beg for it. He needed to hear you begging him to fuck you however he desired. 

Your pleas were getting louder, and louder. 

He murmured, “Shh, baby. The guards are gonna think you’re in trouble…” he paused, smirking against your skin, “Or worse, they’re gonna know what an immoral woman you are, begging for my cock at two in the morning.” And you could hear the cockiness in his voice, because that was exactly what he wanted. To make it seem like you were the one who had desperately woken him up from deep slumber at two in the morning just because you were hungry for his cock. 

You let out a strained moan which sounded a lot like a growl, and Bucky was amused. “I hate you sometimes.” 

Your husband chuckled. “Is that so?” He found that rather funny. “Is that why you’re hopelessly trying to fuck yourself on my cock? Is that why my name is falling off your lips like a prayer? My God, you must loathe me entirely.” 

He moved just the tiniest bit and your face burned when you realized just how wantonly you had moaned for him. You whined and pushed back into him, unable to take it anymore. “Buck… baby, I’m- I need you. Please, please… I don’t care that it’s two in the morning, I need you to fuck me. Right now.” You sounded like you were on the verge of tears, which you might have been because you were frustrated. 

He chuckled, knowing he’s won. “Anything for you, my love. Anything.” 

Bucky grunted as he moved out of you, and in less than a few seconds he flipped you onto your front and lifted your hips up in the air. He slid inside of you again, effortlessly. And the two of you moaned in unison as he filled you up again, your walls already gripping him tightly as if they could hold him in if he tried to tease you again and leave you hanging. 

You swore as Bucky moved his hips against you, slipping in and out of you with ease. Soon, he was slamming into you; his movement animalistic and unrestrained. Gone was the Bucky who had just spent the past half an hour teasing you until it felt like you would lose your mind, this Bucky was relentless, taking what he wanted how he wanted it. 

“Buck…” You whined, trying to meet his thrusts but you gave up because you knew that would be futile. So you just let him pleasure you. Bucky slammed in and out of you continuously, moaning and grunting in the process. The tears finally fell as the pleasure became too much to handle; and you felt a familiar pressure forming in between your legs.

“You feel so good, baby…” Bucky murmured as he increased his pace; ramming into you mercilessly. Your thoughts were a mess yet again as you felt your vision getting blurry with each passing second. You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pulling you into him, hard, each time he filled you up.

His cock reaching all your sensitive spots, Bucky knew just what made you tick and he used them all to his advantage; rendering you completely open to him, in more ways than one. He fucked you, not bothering about the fact that both your moans and groans must have filled the house by now. 

He didn’t care, all he wanted was to make you scream his name as loud as possible. Simply because he could. He sped up, rocking his hips harder against your; his hand reached around to grab your throat gently. He squeezed gently, speeding up into you. You gripped the bed sheets as he pounded into you. 

Your walls constricted around him, hard enough to make him go faster. 

The closer he felt his release coming and the filthier his mouth got. “This pretty little cunt is mine. Mine, you hear me?” He spoke, almost growling and causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. “I’m gonna wake you up in the middle of the night just to fuck you,...” he groaned at how his filthy words made you clench harder around him, “Because I can.” Bucky pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the modest room. 

He took you higher, and higher, and higher until you felt more tears escape your eyes. “Baby…” you were breathless, unable to form coherent words as he fucked you silly. 

He knew what you meant. He always did. “Go on, baby. Cum for me.” 

You let the pressure build inside you, before simply letting go, unable to hold back anymore. More hot tears streamed down your face as Bucky kept pounding into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, chasing his own. 

He came with a loud groan, filling you up with his cum yet again. He remained still for a moment, feeling your creamy walls clench violently around him. 

His. All his. 

He gasped as he pressed you down on the bed before spooning you again, your bodies still connected. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he caught his breath. With his cock still buried in you, you could feel his racing heartbeat; both against your back and against your sensitive walls. 

He kissed your shoulder over and over again, finally pulling the covers over the two of you. You searched for his hand and placed your warm one on top of his, and he almost purred into your ear at the simple, affectionate gesture. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up, angel.” He murmured into your head. “I just… needed you. I’m sorry.” 

You smiled, allowing sleep to finally take over you. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, I love you.” You mumbled, “Now please get some sleep.”

#mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes

[mementomoriifics]

Red Hot - Kirishima x Reader (NSFW)

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, alpha!Kiri, omega!reader, mating cycles, mating bites, some blood, unprotexted sex (don't do this kids), knotting

Wordcount: 2475

Author's Note: Kirishima is 18+ in this fic. it's also a rework of an old fic from a deleted account so if you recognize this, shhh no you don't

AO3 link

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Living with Kirishima Eijiro currently felt like the biggest mistake you’ve ever made in your life.

Not because he was a bad roommate or anything, no, far from it. Kirishima was nothing if not courteous. He always paid his share of the rent and utilities on time, he gave you your space, gave you heads up about when he would be out of town and such. In short, a model roommate.

You’d even been eager as hell to move in with the man you’d called your best friend ever since high school. (And your crush but that’s a part you were very much denying)

In your eagerness, however, you’d overlooked two key factors.

One, you were an omega, he an alpha

Two, you would inevitably go into heat. In your shared living space. While the alpha was just in the other room, smelling like leather and strawberries and driving you absolutely mad.

When the inevitable happened, you’d ignored the red flags at first. Like how Kirishima smelled even better than he usually did. Or how it felt like someone had been dicking around with the thermostat. Or why you had started to hoard everything soft and comfortable in the apartment.

And as luck would have it, it didn’t dawn on you that your heat had started until it was much too late.

You woke up one morning, your head feeling like it was stuffed full of cotton balls. The next thing you noticed was how absolutely warm you felt, kicking off the blankets to get some fresh air. You were confused, until you felt how wet you were. Your thighs were coated in slick and panic rose in you.

You cast a glance at your alarm clock and shot a prayer to whatever deity was listening that Kirishima had already left for his shift two hours ago. Your worrying wasn’t over, though, as you fumbled with your phone while you were still coherent and called out of work.

Your boss, a beta you got along with decently well, was thankfully extremely understanding about the situation. Not that it made the entire ordeal less embarrassing.

The rest of the day you seemed to float by solely on your instincts. With the fuzzy feeling in your head persisting, you made a nest for a mate you didn’t have, piling together whatever clothes, pillows and blankets you could find. You’d even swiped Kirishima’s Crimson Riot branded blanket, one of his most prized possessions.

That made you feel guilty, just a little.

Said blanket, however, proved to be the anchor still keeping you grounded as your heat worsened. You would bury your face into it, Kiri’s scent filling your senses. It made you feel safe, protected in a way. Just like how Kirishima had always been that for you, like a rock for you to lean on, pun intended. So selfless and strong and handsome…

You had long foregone any sort of modesty, your hand having found its home between your trembling thighs as you kept pressing your face into the blanket you stole.

You felt guilty about doing so, but your instincts overpowered your rational thinking.

Kirishima hadn’t asked for this, for you to defile his stuff, for you to masturbate to the thought of him, and you were eighty percent sure your friend was pining after Bakugo. He had to be, with the awe he carried in his voice whenever the blond was brought up in conversation.

There was no way in hell he’d mate with you, or mark you, and you felt something akin to heartbreak at the thought of it all.

But your heat riddled thoughts were quick to dismiss your hurt, wanting nothing more than for Kiri to come home, find you a dripping wet mess and fuck pups into you. For those sharp teeth to sink into your shoulder to mark you, for his hands to grip your hips so hard he’d leave behind bruises. For him to wreck you completely. Your feelings were something you could sort through later. The only thing relevant now was the burning need that made itself your master.

Your fantasies about Kirishima were running rampant as you fingered yourself, three fingers knuckle deep inside yourself as you pictured them being his instead. You needed relief, you needed-

“Eijirou!”

You all but screamed as your climax washed over you, making your whole body shake at the intensity of it. Your face was dug into the blanket, taking in every bit of Kirishima’s scent still lingering on it. You were drooling, feeling achingly empty as your body contracted to milk a cock that wasn’t there.

You were panting, coming down from your high as you looked towards the door briefly, a vague part of you thinking of getting some water. That thought was quickly flung out the window as to your absolute horror, Kirishima stood in your doorway, gym bag falling from his hand.

Tears of embarrassment welled up in your eyes as you pulled the nearest object - that fucking blanket - over yourself to hide. To safe at least a little of your modesty, though you were pretty sure Kirishima now got an eyeful of all of you.

“Kiri, I’m sorry. I didn’t- I’m-”

You were properly crying at this point, dread and embarrassment coiling inside of your head. Your roommate and best friend had just caught you fucking yourself to the idea of him. How long had he stood there? How much had he seen?

God, if the earth could swallow you whole, you’d be grateful.

A sudden calming wave of Kirishima’s scent filled the room, forcing your shaking body to relax. You heard him come closer, the bed dipping as he sat down on it.

You refused to leave your self-made cocoon of shame, not wanting to face Kirishima right now. But it seemed he had different plans.

He carefully peeled the blanket away, his face almost matching his long, spiky hair as he looked at you. There was a look of concern etched on his face that took you entirely off guard.

“Are… Are you okay?”

You blinked a few times, a little baffled by his reaction to the situation. You nodded, biting your bottom lip and ignoring a fresh wave of tears.

“You were… You’re in-”

“-heat, yeah.” you finished his sentence, looking away and wanting nothing more than to hide under the blanket again.

Kirishima cleared his throat, shifting in place. Sweat started to appear on his forehead, his scent more potent.  It was obvious you were getting to him. Or rather, your heat was doing things to him. But sweet, sweet Kiri was too much of a gentleman to act on it. The feeling of guilt got worse and the tears finally spilled.

“Can I… Help?” He asked, his voice soft. You cast a sideways glance at him and he seemed to be giving you puppy eyes you didn’t think alpha’s were capable of.

Your heart both melted and broke a little bit. Kirishima was too kind for his own good, too caring. You didn’t deserve-

“What about Bakugo?” You blurted out, Kirishima looking very confused.

“What about-? What do you mean?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Aren’t you,” you swallowed, looking down and second guessing your assumptions. “Aren’t you… In love with-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, the redhead laughing loudly. His shoulders shook with mirth as he doubled over, one hand on his stomach. Your face turned even redder, something you didn’t think possible at this point.

“What? No! Bakubro is bonded to Uraraka. He’s just my best buddy.” Kirishima snickered, still shaking with laughter. “I mean, sure he's kinda cute in a manly way but like,... He's taken, dude. Besides, I have a giant crush on you! I thought it was obvious.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. Your eyes widened as they darted to Kiri again, who’s face now definitely matched his hair, his smile fading.

“It wasn’t..?”

You shook your head, opening your mouth to say something but your heat thought otherwise. You crumpled forward, hand gripping Kiri’s bicep tightly as you moaned.

“Hey, easy!” Kirishima spoke, broad hands taking a hold of your upper arms to keep you steady. “I got you.”

The words were meant as reassuring but instead only fanned the flames that were in your lower stomach. It felt like you were burning up and it only got worse when you looked up at him.

Kiri’s pupils were dilated with desire, his mouth parted slightly as his breath came out in soft pants. His tongue darted out briefly to wet those kissable lips. You felt pinned in place by this stare and it made you feel so small and so fucking horny.

“Ei-chan. I need you, please.” You whined, using an old nickname you knew would get him. Eijirou growled, all but ripping his tank top off his body in his hurry to get undressed.

“Don’t worry, Omega. Your Alpha’s got you.”

You moaned loudly at the statement, back arching off the bed. Your hand found itself between your thighs again on instinct earning a soft "fuck." fron the alpha. Kirishima got up for a moment, ridding himself of his shorts and boxers, the seams of the garments protesting at his rough movements.

The scent radiating off of Eijirou grew more potent, more overwhelming. Your head swam with it and one instinctual thought came to the forefront of your lust-addled mind: He was going into a rut.

“Ei-chan. Please.” You moaned again, spreading your thighs for him in an attempt to coax him between them.

You eyed his length shamelessly as he stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you. Your mouth started to water. It was bigger than you'd imagined, curving up deliciously. A black happy trail leading from Kiri's belly button down to the hard dick you wanted in you so damn bad it almost hurt.

The pro hero growled, having had enough of waiting and finally climbed between your legs. He pressed needy kissed against your neck and shoulders, taking in the smell of you.

“Patience. I’ll make you feel better soon.” He mumbled, one hand gripping your thigh and hiking it over his hip. You felt his length grind against you, gasping as the underside rubbed against your oversensitive clit.

“You made such a good nest for us.” He praised you, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. You wrapped your arms around Kirishima’s shoulders, digging your fingers in his waist length hair as he kept talking. “You will be such a good mom for our pups.”

“Give me- I need-” you whimpered, hands now gripping fistfuls of his hair, making the hero growl low in his chest.

“I will, Omega. I’ll give you exactly what you need.” He spoke, a hand reaching down so he could line his dick up with your entrance. With one, smooth thrust, he was knot deep in you, your head tipping back and exposing your neck in a quiet show of submission. Kirishima pressed kisses up and down the column of your throat, sharp teeth grazing the delicate skin there. He seemed to revel in the feeling of you around him but you wanted - no, needed - more.

You whimpered, moving your hips in an attempt to get him to fuck you. Kirishima, seemingly hellbent on drawing things out, nipped at your throat, a non verbal warning.

His senses seemed to return for a moment.

“Are you okay? Can I-?”

You nodded, wrapping your legs around Eijirou’s thick waist.

“Please, I’ve been ready since you caught me.” you half whined, half complained.

That was all the pro hero needed, dragging his length out of you at a painfully slow pace before thrusting back in so hard he almost knocked the wind out of you.

The pace he set was hard and a little rough, his hands and mouth gentle as he held you close, pressing kisses against any part of exposed skin he could reach.

“You smell so good, Omega. And you feel like heaven. So good. So… So… I want to-”

Kiri was lost for words, all the blood in his brain having vacated and moved south. His teeth gently scraped over the junction between your neck and shoulder, the place he could mark you. Where you wanted him to bite down badly.

He seemed to hesitate, his mouth parting and teeth nipping but never committing to a bite. It drove you to the brink of madness. You both wanted each other, right? Why was he hesitating?

After the so manieth nip of pointed teeth, one of your hands flew to the back of his head, trying to force him down. His pace slowed, fucking you gentle and deep. It made your head spin.

“Please, Ei-chan. Do it. Please.”

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Do you want me?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” You spoke with more clarity than you had since you woke up.

Something in him seemed to snap and Kirishima pressed a quick kiss on the sensitive patch of skin before his lips parted, sharp teeth sinking into your skin. You cursed, holding onto Kirishima, your Alpha, for dear life.

Every fiber of your body seemed to sizzle with pleasure as the redhead pushed his knot into you. It took only a few, slow grinds of the alpha’s hips into yours for you to plummet over the edge, Eijirou groaning into the bite as he followed shortly after, knot swelling impossibly fat inside of you. The burning in your gut slowly faded, Kiri pulling back from your neck to look at you.

He looked borderline feral, hair a mess and blood staining his mouth. You smiled, gently smoothing down the unruly locks with shaky hands. He grinned at you.

“My Omega.” he said, smiling before he leaned down, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“My Alpha.” You echoed, leaning in and stealing a soft kiss for your… Boyfriend? Yes. Boyfriend. You liked how that sounded.

“’m tired.” You mumbled, hissing as Kirishima slowly withdrew his knot for you with an almost cartoonishly wet pop that made your face burn. The pro hero pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, gathering you up in his arms and sinking back into the nest. You felt wonderfully small and safe, cocooned in an embrace of muscle and red hair.

“Then rest up a bit. Then we’ll get cleaned up and we’ll get some food in you.” Eijirou said, smiling to himself as you snuggled into his pec.

“I want omurice.” You mumbled, already drifting off as fatigue set in. Kiri chuckled, pressing a kiss onto the crown of your head.

“Then I’ll make you omurice. Anything for my Omega.”

You grinned like an idiot as you quietly drifted off, safe in the arms of your Alpha.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #mha imagine #mha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #not sfw #morii's fics #omegaverse #abo fic #whoop there it is

[joshslater]

Dionysus

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I was very hesitant when he picked me up at the nightclub. I could feel the disappointment and outright hostility from all the women and a lot of the men as the God walked up to me, started to make out, and then asked if I was up for some fun. That's what you get away with when no one ever says "no" I thought. With his incredibly handsome face, black hair, and athletic build that was probably not a word he was used to hearing. It would be impossible for him to know I was into guys, and coming on so strong could land you in hot water or rather knocked cold on the floor. Turns out he could know, and there was more to him than just utter handsomeness and unparalleled confidence. Way more.

It was back at his place he asked me if I could look like someone else, who would I pick? That's a game I've played many times before, so I instantly knew to answer Marco Albieri, the soccer player. He raised an eyebrow, took a step from me, and asked me why. "I don't know what it is about soccer players, but something about the game makes their bodies stunningly handsome. And Marco is just a step above the rest." He smiled a bright smile, made a dramatic gesture, and I was Marco. Looked exactly like him at least. It took me a moment to even realize what had just happened, but I could see myself in the full-length mirror. Or I couldn't, I should say. I saw Marco Albieri in full Paris Saint-Germain F.C. game kit. Mesmerized I took a step closer to the mirror, and Marco on the other side of the glass stepped closer as well. I looked just like him, my wettest, wankiest dream. I'd come so many times to exactly this fantasy. There was even a sheen of post-game sweat making all the skin glistening in his hallway designer lights.

He approached me from behind, still handsome but now by a much narrower margin. "You ready to fuck?" I didn't even answer but just turned around and kissed him. He wasn't shy in grouping me back. What followed was the longest fuck fest I've ever been part of. We went from room to room. It was like this body had limitless stamina, though it was the body of Marco after all, but an insatiable horny lust as well. Perhaps he had that too. It wasn't until early morning I fell asleep next to him, exhausted.

It was almost noon when I woke up, disoriented by everything. It was like it wasn't until now the craziness and impossibility of last night hit me. I could see Marco Albieri in the mirror at the other side of the bedroom, without shirt, and the most unkempt hair I had ever seen him with. I knew for a fact the secret hairstyling trick was body fluids. I suddenly felt very uneasy and exposed. Vulnerable even. I was here on vacation. How could I leave if I didn't look like my passport? How could I leave this building looking like Marco? There would be fans stopping me instantly. What the fuck am I thinking about? I'm erased from the world. No one I know, no one in my family would recognize me. Could I convince them I'm me and not a millionaire soccer player? Perhaps. But my life would be so complicated.

That's when he lazily strolled into the bedroom, completely naked showing off his chiseled body, one mug in each hand.

"You did this! How the fuck did you do this? You can't leave me like this!" "Morning!"

He handed me one of the mugs. On reflex I took a large sip of coffee only to discover it was red wine. It took me by surprise and I almost sprayed his white sheets with red mist of wine, but instead got some down my lungs and started to cough.

"Is this really the best you can think of?" he said. At first I had no idea what he meant. Then, still coughing, I realized it was my body again. The one I used to fly here, check into the hotel, and go out to nightclubs with.

"I... It's awfully inconvenient if I tried to leave with a different body." "That's it? That's the only reason?"

I felt stupid and unsure what to say. I liked my body, so why was it so hard to defend it? He took a large sip from his coffee mug of wine and climbed into bed next to me, but standing on his knees looking down on me.

"When's your flight back?" "Eh, in... On Sunday." "Plenty of time to let loose. How about going to the beach like this?"

This time I noticed the shift. The bed sagged down a bit under the extra load and I didn't even have to look in the mirror to see the freakish muscles. Two huge chest muscles peeked into my field of vision, and moving my arm I could see it was thicker than what my legs used to be.

I felt light-headed as we walked down to the beach. Probably the wine. He was subtle and classy, black Nike sneakers, black boardshorts, and a white T-shirt. I was anything but subtle. Probably twice his mass, annoying flip flops that flipped and flopped every step, white compression shorts that looked blindingly bright against my deep tan, a purple thong that peeked up over the rim of the shorts by the hips, visible because the neon yellow tank top was cropped above the belly button to show off the abs. The stringer waved for every step as my obscene pecs push out the yellow fabric like a hanging flag. It touched my body in surprisingly few places. Top of the traps and the nipples more or less.

After spending a few hours getting everyone passing by on the beach to turn their heads to observe the freak show he asked me to play floatation device for him. We went out in the water and did our best to have sex just outside where the waves broke. I think anyone who paid close attention could tell what we did, but no one could be really sure. He didn't appear to care.

"I made you something," he whispered. "What?" "A surfer," he said and begun walking towards the beach. As I wiped my long hair out of my face I understood he changed me again. No more shaved head, no more enormous meat slab. I still had a six-pack, I was still 6'-something, and my skin was deeply tanned, but that's about where the similarities ended. "Why?" I asked as I lied down on the beach towel next to his. "First dive bar opens soon, and I thought this would play better to the crowd." I was feeling woozy. "We want to play to the crowd?" He reached over and squeezed the pec closest to him. "Well, make them jealous at least."

There was something nagging at the edge of my thoughts. Some question I felt I needed to ask. I just couldn't quite put it into coherent thought.

"Did you drug me?" He made a high-pitched "Mmmm" sound. "Just a bit. To fit with the rest. Just go with it."

I shut my eyes, relaxed, and let his hand stroke me. I don't know how long we lied like that. Not too long, because the sun hadn't moved that much, but I sure did dozed off.

"Come on!" he said, like it was asking me to hurry up for the third time. A bit confused I got up from the beach towel. I wore a pair of eye-popping turquoise board shorts with black pattern and trim. Neon turquoise, if such a color was a thing. I knew it had a real trade name, but somehow it kept slipping my mind. They had a good fit, not loose, not tight, but rode low on my lithe body. Fuzzy pubes peeked out over the waistband, like a little forest edge where the treasure trail from the belly button ended. I looked around for a shirt or something to put on, but there was nothing except for a pair of flip-flops. These didn't look as cheap and fit much better than the previous pair though.

"Is that it?" I asked incredulously. "What more do you need?" he said, and looked at me like he wanted me for dinner. "Come!"

The bar wasn't far away and already busy when we arrived. He almost danced in, basically dragging me in, holding my hand. I was woozy from whatever I was drugged with, but in a way that made everything look amazing to me. In any direction I looked I was delighted by what I saw, no matter how mundane. The bar was not even half full and everyone looked as relaxed as you would expect from a bar half a block from the beach, though no one else was bare-chested. The decor was a random mix of styles, as expected by a dive bar. Tables for two or four were lined up in front of the bar at the back of the room. From a backroom somewhere behind it pumped music. I looked at my watch to see if it was already dance time, but I was only wearing a red nylon cord as a bracelet.

"You must be thirsty after a day in the sun," he said and handed me an Aperol Spritz. I could have sworn he hadn't left me for the bar, but then I didn't really trust my senses. We took a table for four and sat next to each other, facing the rest of the room. "So, tell me about your day," he continued, as if he hadn't been there for all of it.

For whatever reason I found it hard to figure out where to start, like it was all jumbled together despite nothing of consequence had happened. I began to describe how I had woken up in bed and how he surprised me with breakfast. How I had mistaken the red wine for coffee. I could feel his hand moving down my abs and into my board shorts. As he pulled out my erect cock from the shorts my immediate thought was of surprise. I hadn't realized I was hard. I continued to talk about how we went to the beach, while he was jerking me off with one hand under the table. It then hit me that I had no idea what my dick looked like, if it was big or small. I had never seen it. He had transformed me somehow into this surfer. How could I have forgotten something so monumental.

At that point I shot my load under the table. Four or five large pumps. I was suddenly aware again that there were people around us, and looking around tried to figure out if any of them could see I had my dick out. At the same time I was still feeling high or whatever it was. "I'll get a refill," he said, stood up and headed for the bar. I decided to put my dick back into the shorts.

"Hey, dude. Is he like your boyfriend?" someone standing next to me asked. How long had he been there? He was handsome, not quite as tall as I was now, but more muscled. The tight billabong shirt didn't hide much. "Him? No. We just..." I was trying to think of a good word. I wasn't sure what he was, or what was happening at all really. "Wanna check out the dance floor?" "Yeah... Yeah, I would."

I followed him towards the bar, and away to the side into the dance room. It was far from packed, but we were not alone at least. Immediately I regretted following him there, even before he started moving to the music. Once he did I knew I would look silly. I started to mimic his moves best I could. He smiled a crooked smile, though not an unkind one, when he saw what I was doing. He leaned forward and barely audible over the music asked "Are you up for a second round?"

"What do you mean?" I asked back. "I saw what that other dude did to you. I live nearby, if you want to try something that isn't over in minutes."

In the door opening I see him standing with two large drinks in his hands. He looks emotionless, which in itself was a scary contrast to how he looked before. He then drinks one of the drinks in one go, then immediately empties the other one as well. No sooner has he turned away with two empty glasses when I feel a desperate need to take a piss. He's fucking with me.

"Don't go anywhere," I say and dash towards to men's room.

It's empty. I go to the lone urinal and yank my dick out of the white thong. I'm confused, but happy I got there in time to relieve myself. Why am I wearing only a white thong to a bar? As the piss is streaming for longer than I can ever recall I look down my bare smooth legs and find a pair of eye-catching red hightops. When I'm finally done I have a look at myself in the mirror. Cute, young Latino boy with a red baseball cap on his unkempt hair, and a grey shirt. The shirt in a way makes the thong stand out even more and look intentionally inappropriate. Perfect!

I return to the dance floor and find the guy waiting. "There you are. Let's go!" he says, almost demanding. He doesn't say anything on the way to his apartment two blocks away. I keep looking his way, and it feels like my dick is growing bigger every time I look at those muscled arms. His pace is brisk without being conspicuous, he clearly wants us to get to his place as quickly as possible without being seen. In through an unlocked entrance, up two flights of stairs, and in through his apartment door.

As soon as he whisked me in and closed the door behind us he grabs me, shoves me into the wall next to us, and forcefully kisses me on my mouth. "You fucking whore! I'm so fucking horny you better know what you're doing."

He snores loudly again. I had tried to ignore it to spend a few more hours in the bed, but it's getting pointless to try to sleep any more. I carefully get up and get dressed. No need for a shower, now that everything dried. I make a final check I got everything with me that I brought in. There is that nagging feeling that I'm missing something. Well, whatever it was it can't be important. Quietly I exit his apartment and make my way out of the building. I feel restless being so quiet and calm, like it is unnatural for me to be that way. I basically explode in emotions as I exit the building and literally dance down the last few steps.

I try to think what to do next. My mind is like a spinning punch bowl of thoughts and I'm only able to fish out simple verbs. Party! Drink! Dance! Fuck! The sun is barely up, but perhaps I can find some nightclub still open.

[babyboy-cody]

ch. 01 | finding out

summary: after feeling so different for the past week, you decided to go to the doctor in order to find out what was actually wrong with you. the cause of you feeling this way was something you weren’t expecting.

warnings: depictions of early signs of pregnancy, clueless grayson, mentions of sean, implications of smut, mentions of abortion

quick note: okay so this is my first ever grayson series, so hopefully i make you guys proud. some of the pregnancy signs are things that some people don’t go through, so i wanted to make it as realistic as possible. any feedback would be great! <3

word count: 2.6k

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Waking up early in the morning, you never expected to feel like shit. From the position you were laying in, your tender breasts were pressed into the bed, causing you the slightest pain. You groaned and winced as you went to turn. Just from moving, you felt nauseous and dizzy, the blinding light from the sun pouring into the room caused you to squint. Grayson wasn’t in bed beside you as usual. He always woke up at the ass crack of dawn to start his morning routines of breakfast, exercising for two hours, and shower. The rest of his day is spent doing activities, such as woodworking/building, spending time with you, long-boarding, or exercising some more.

A wave of cramps suddenly hit you, causing you to muffle your long moan into your pillow. You tucked your body into the fetal position, tucking your hand under your sweatpants to press down on your lower stomach, hoping that the pressure would ease the aggravating pain. For the past week, you’ve been constantly getting cramps. The breast tenderness happened only a day later. Premature cramps are the usual sign of starting your period. What confuses you is why you woke up with no blood staining your underwear or pants.

Sluggishly grabbing your phone from under your pillow, you opened up your usual period app. The last time you had gotten your period was exactly the same day as last month. Your eyebrows furrow when you see that you should’ve started your period exactly two weeks ago. You hastily sit up, immediately shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you like a tsunami. There was brief commotion coming from the kitchen, followed by Grayson yelling, “Ethaaannn!” You faintly heard Ethan’s boisterous laugh, which only amped up his younger brother’s annoyance.

You swallowed the forming saliva at the back of your mouth. You suddenly felt so exhausted, even though you had a whole ten hour rests with no interruptions or disruptions. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you slowly got up, shutting your eyes to avoid feeling dizzy so fast. You desperately craved Grayson’s warm skin against yours in order to make you feel better, especially when his strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him. As though the universe heard your thoughts, Grayson enters the bedroom, a comfy hoodie adorning his upper body as gray sweats adorn his lower half. He looks so comfy and warm and soft with his messy hair and growing bed and bright smile.

“Look who’s finally awake!” He announced and spread his arms wide, running over to playfully (and gently) tackle you into the bed.

“Gray, Gray, baby, be gentle,” you quickly told him, hands grabbing onto his arm as the room suddenly spun. “I’m not feeling too good today.”

He immediately sat up, using one hand to push his long hair from his face as the other slowly sits you up. His eyes were full of worry as they scan you up and down. You smiled tiredly and gently stroked his jaw, loving the feeling of his scruff on your palm.

“What’ve you been feeling?” He was quick to ask you, desperately wanting to know why you’ve been feeling sick and what could’ve caused it. “Do you think it’s cause E was sick last week?”

“I mean, maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ve been getting cramps and my boobs have been hurting as usual before I get my period.”

“So you’re starting you’re period?” He questioned, thinking that could be the reason.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m getting symptoms I’ve never gotten before and it’s worrying me,” you quietly told him, your voice holding such worry that he’s never heard before. “I’m so exhausted and dizzy and I can’t even stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the uncomfortable churning in your stomach as you suddenly thought about eating. “I can’t even think about food without feeling like I’m gonna throw up everywhere.”

“Baby, you need to make an appointment for the doctor or the GYN to see what’s going on. You don’t know if this could be something serious,” Grayson anxiously tells you, his large hands cupping your cheeks to make eye contact with you, his thumbs lightly stroking your warm skin back and forth.

“I will,” you held onto his wrists. “I promise.”

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After your serious talk with Grayson yesterday, you made an appointment to go to the gynecologist the very next day. Nerves were bubbling in the pit of your stomach, causing you to use the bathroom four times in the past hour. Ethan and Kristina were worried as well, unsure of what to do or say to make you feel at ease and less anxious. If what’s causing your sickness something terminal, they knew that Grayson would quite literally go insane. You were his person. Grayson was a believer of soulmates, and he knew deep in his heart and soul that you were his.

This morning, it was eerily quite. The air was awkward and tense with no one knowing how to break the ice. Grayson’s jaw was clenched and he watched your every move carefully. You were feeling a little better, only eating in small quantities and being forced to drink lots of water (by Grayson). Your appointment wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon, so you had plenty of time to do your morning routine and talk to Grayson. He insisted on staying in the bathroom when you shower and do your skin care.

“Gray, I’m not dying,” you joked lightly.

“Don’t fucking joke like that!” He raised his voice, glaring up at you as he sat on the edge of the top, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlocked. “That’s not fucking funny.” There was anger in his tone, and you realized how insensitive it was of you.

You knelt down in front of him, unlocked his hands and slithering more between his spread knees. He doesn’t look at you as he looks down at the ground between your own knees. “Hey,” you whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, lightly shaking them. “Look at me, please.” When he does, you see the slightest of tears along his waterline. Your heart breaks when his face scrunches up in agony and his eyes shut, his hands immediately covering his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Grayson…”

He sniffles into his hands, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t lose you,” he weeped so softly, his voice muffled behind the barrier of his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you the same way I lost my dad. I-I just can’t.” You let him pour out his emotions, all the while holding onto his shoulders and gently pushing his hands away from his face to wipe away his warm tears. The area around his eyes and cheeks were tinged red, his beautiful eyes now turning puffy. “You don’t understand h-how broken I’d be without you, Y/N. It’s like… a piece of me might die.”

“Baby,” you whispered brokenly, shaking your head as you hurriedly pull him into your chest. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck. “I am so so sorry for making that joke, alright? Hey, look at me.” You lift his head up, wiping more of his tears with your thumbs. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is okay.” At the sound of your soft whisper, he lets out a quiet and shaky sigh. The thought of now hearing your voice anymore physically hurts his heart. He hesitatingly nods, desperately wanting to believe your words. But looking into your eyes this very moment, seeing the determination and confidence in your face, he has no other choice but to believe you.

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Sitting on the exam table in the cold room that slightly smells of hand sanitizer and wood, you didn’t know what else to think. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as they tried to unravel itself to form a coherent sentence in your head. Grayson wanted to come in with you, but you had told him to stay in the car, out of fear of him hearing dreadful news. You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the storm that’s beginning to make itself known. What you didn’t hearing was the door opening and the OB-GYN, Dr. Khaleesi, stepping in. She was a lovely Indian woman who was older than you by 20 years. You’ve been coming to her for a year and a half now for your usual STD checkups or any worries you had with your uterus. She was the sweetest woman you’ve come to known and you never felt judged by her.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks as she shuts the door, leaving you both in privacy. She holds the clipboard to her side and sits onto the rolling stool to slide herself closer to you.

“Just nervous,” you laughed awkwardly.

“Well, it’s just me,” she tells you softly, her accent sounding so elegant as she gently pats your knee. “Now, it says on the appointment form that you’re hear for a checkup regarding your period.”

“Yes, um, I’m late on my period - about two weeks now. But I’ve been feeling a lot of cramps and breast tenderness and all the symptoms of starting my period. And I don’t know why,” you sighed and picked at your nails, not sure how to keep still.

“Alright, well, I’m going to be asking you a few simple questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible,” Dr. Khaleesi tells you. “What day was your last period?”

“The 6th of May.”

“How long does menstrual cycle typically last?”

“Six to seven days, give or take.”

“And are you sexually active?”

You blushed as you thought about Grayson. You hadn’t forgotten the romantic picnic dinner he had set up in the backyard with a large projector hung up. Sitting there under the stars with him, being in such a close proximity to that man always made you feel so nervous. But having his hands on you, his lips on yours, his large and muscular body between your thighs, it made it all worth it. You most certainly didn’t forget how many times he made you orgasm in under an hour. You were thankful that Ethan and Kristina had gone to their own date night for a few hours.

“Y/N?” Dr. Khaleesi’s voice broke you free from your thoughts, causing you to clear your throat out of embarrassment.

“Y-Yes, I’m sexually active,” you softly responded.

Dr. Khaleesi nods and checks off the small YES box beside the question. “And how often do you engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Um, about three to four times a week.” You suddenly burst out into laughter at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs as well. “At least one of us is getting some action, huh?” She laughs again when you cover your face, muffling your small groan. “Back to the questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“I’d say last week, but I’ve been feeling these symptoms for the past two weeks now,” you hesitatingly told her, secretly not wanting to know the cause in order to avoid the dread and heartbreak if something was terminal.

“And what symptoms have you been having?” She asked you, now looking at your expression rather than the clipboard in her hands.

“Um,” you looked up in thought, “Nausea, cramps, breast tenderness, sudden feeling of exhaustion, loss of appetite, and I’ve been peeing a lot more.”

Dr. Khaleesi nods silently, her sudden silence makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You swallow down and exhale a shaky and audible sigh. She gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I exam your stomach?”

“N-No,” you quietly said and laid back on the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead, please.”

And after hearing your consent, Dr. Khaleesi pulled on some blue latex gloves and hovers her hands over your stomach. You pull up your shirt and pull the cracked skin of your bottom lip with your teeth. She gently presses down in different areas of your stomach, periodically asking, “Does this cause any pain? Discomfort?” And each time, you shook your head. As she was getting to the end of the exam, you went over every single possibility. What if it’s a tumor? What if you’re pregnant? Could it be cancer? Is it internal bleeding? Somehow, you couldn’t find a reason for each possibility to happen. You had no family members with a history of chronic illnesses. And you and Grayson always used protection, never birth control because of the harmful effects to your body. When Dr. Khaleesi was finished with the brief exam, she sighs softly and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I know why you’re feeling like this, Y/N. And before I tell you, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need advice on how to do this, okay?” She tells you in a reassuring and motherly tone.

“Just tell me,” you whispered, voice cracking as you strong to keep a strong front. But with every second, it slowly disappeared, revealing a vulnerable and terrified woman in front of the doctor. “Please…”

Dr. Khaleesi sighed quietly and licked her red lipstick stained lips. “You’re… pregnant. Presumably one month pregnant.”

If you were standing, you were sure you would’ve dropped to your knees. Your mouth dropped open, trying desperately to form words, but all that came out was a weak squeak. Tears lined your waterline as you shook your head in disbelief.

“N-No, that’s… that’s fucking impossible,” you frantically said, shaking your head even more as you hastily stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. Your hands went to your hair as you paced back and forth. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my, God,” you whispered to yourself, muffling a sob with the back of your hand. “I.. he’s been talking ab-about having kids for-for so long and…” your voice shook between every word. “We’re both so young!”

“We have options, Y/N,” Dr. Khaleesi gently told you as to not scare you if she rose her voice to speak over yours. “There’s abortion-”

“No!” You shouted. “That… That is out of the question. I-I need to talk to him. I need to see where his head is at first, and-and then I can talk to you about… options,” you whispered the last word. You are pro-choice, but you know deep in your heart that you couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. If Grayson thought the opposite, you’re not sure what would happen next.

“Would you like me to schedule your next appointment in one week?” Dr. Khaleesi quietly asks you as she notices the mental battle you’re currently having. “That way you have plenty of time to discuss what you both think, okay?”

You hesitatingly nod and look over at her with an expression that nearly broke her gentle heart. “I-I’m scared, Daksha.”

At the sound of her name exiting your lips, she immediately crosses over and pulls you into a hug. She understands that this may be unprofessional to her bosses and what other patients may see as inappropriate, but she would never let a terrified woman feel alone.

“You are going to be okay, child,” she tells you quietly, one hand wrapped around your shoulders as the other lightly pats the back of your head. “Whatever you decide, I will help you along the way, okay? Do not forget that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

CURRENT TAGLIST

@etherealdols @certainaesthetic

#grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan

[maddieinwonder]

A Lesson In Romance #7: False Start

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Just a lot of awkward vibes hahaha

Word Count: 1.7k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they try to confess their feelings.

A/N: I didn’t actually manage to include the definition of a False Start in the chapter itself, so I’ll add it at the end. No spoilers for now!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

-----------

It took you 24 hours to decide that you were going to do something about your feelings for the good doctor. Pretty quick, considering you were a living, breathing rom-com cynic. But as ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, once said: "The only constant in life is change".

Specifically, change happened after you woke up in your cute co-worker and dear friend's arms and you wanted nothing more than to get back into them as fast as possible.

But by the universal laws of working in the BAU, catching a break seemed to be the hardest when you actually wanted one.

Firstly, it was like every serial killer in the country decided to cancel their vacations simultaneously, swamping the team with urgent case after case. At this point, you were more familiar with the couch on the jet than your bed at home, and everyone was feeling the strain.

Secondly, if you weren't sleeping, you were usually out in the field chasing unsubs with Derek or Rossi. You had stopped holding out hope for being paired with Spencer — on account of your areas of specialty overlapping too much, and Hotch not being the type of leader to waste his resources — and as a result:

Thirdly, getting even ten minutes alone with the genius became an impossible task, and not for lack of trying either. At the start of the month, the two of you had tried to adapt your breakfast ritual to the road, but it always got interrupted mid-coffee order or even at the ding of the lift. Not that you and Spencer stopped trying, no, but your patience was wearing thin.

So you did something you hadn't done since you submitted your application to join the BAU — you prayed for a chance.

Because every day that you didn't admit your feelings to the doctor was another day fighting the compulsion to tell somebody else about them, and god only knows what a room full of profilers (and one nosy tech analyst) would do with that kind of information.

Then, out of the blue, the door of opportunity opened.

After two weeks of straight travel, the team had earned a well-deserved one night’s rest in your own beds before dealing with a local case, bright and early tomorrow morning. And since your flight landed at 2am and all the trains had stopped by then, this gave you the perfect shot to execute your plan.

Unfortunately, you forgot to take into account the most important factor — your nerves.

It didn't help that Derek had wolf-whistled in the carpark as the two of you walked off in the same direction, nor that Spencer immediately put your favourite album into the CD player out of instinct; an overly domestic action that made your heart beat even faster.

But it was when you arrived in front of his apartment building that you felt the worst of it. As you tried to summon the right words to your lips, your heart hammered in your chest and your thoughts jumbled themselves into nonsense.

"Are you ok?" Spencer asked, snapping you out of your anxious spiral instantly. "You don't look so well."

"I-I'm fine." Your fingers twitched nervously.

"Doesn't seem like it." He looked down at your hands, and you cursed your subconscious brain for giving you away. Then, he placed a hand over yours and your heart stopped.

"You're not alright, that's for sure, but it seems like it's just sleep deprivation." He assessed, bending slightly to look at your face. "You can't drive in this state. Do you want to come in?”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, ready to protest, but Spencer beat you to it. "Let’s go. You wanted to talk about something, right?" He called out, already one foot out of the car.

Before you could realise what was happening, you found yourself sitting on Spencer's couch holding a warm cup of tea.

This was the first time you were in his apartment. Yet, it was exactly what you thought it'd be like. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, filled to max capacity with books of every topic imaginable from neuroscience to philosophy. Those that didn't make it to the shelves were found in random stacks around his apartment, standing out against his forest green walls.

"Did you know that chamomile tea is a natural remedy for insomnia? In fact, it is commonly regarded as a mild tranquilizer. It's calming effects may be attributed to the antioxidant apigenin, which binds to specific receptors in your brain that initiate sleep and reduce anxiety." He explained, walking over with his own mug.

"I actually did know that." You smiled. The tea seemed to work its magic because you did feel relaxed, and you must have looked it too, because the worried frown disappeared off Spencer's face.

"Didn't know you were a tea person." You commented lightly, blowing the steam from your mug.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me." He replied mysteriously, and you raised your eyebrows.

Spencer's apartment was too quiet, no rumbling fridge or quiet radio playing in the background to make your awkward silence any less pronounced. It was then that you noticed he didn't have a TV. Somehow this fact didn't surprise you very much.

"You... you wanted to talk to me about something?" He broke the silence, looking down at the hot tea swirling in his mug.

Right. You were here to talk about your feelings. Your face flushed as you tried to summon your willpower, again.

"I wanted to tell you something—" You began shakily. "But before that, I just want to preface, we can ignore this entire thing if you don't agree. I mean, I really enjoy our friendship as it is, and I wouldn't want to do anything to affect tha—"

"Wait." Spencer interrupted urgently, before catching himself. "Sorry, um, before that, can I say something?"

"Um, ok, shoot." You replied meekly, trying to hide your relief behind a long sip of tea. There was a pause as he gathered his thoughts, and you might have been seeing things, but he looked almost... nervous? 

"The day we met, I calculated the probability of meeting somebody that shared my exact coffee order and the result was almost one in a million.” He finally spoke, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “That probability decreased when I factored in working together, sharing the same interests, and... and how I enjoyed spending time with you more than with anybody else."

Spencer cleared his throat, a blush coming onto his cheeks.

"Ever since then... my life just started making sense. I know I’m a scientist, not a poet, and I could tell you all the statistics about relationships in the world, but when it comes to you...”

His cheeks were crimson now, as he ran his fingers through his hair. You had a feeling yours looked the same.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that I think you're beautiful and smart, and I have no idea what you see in me, but I'd really—"

Suddenly, both your phones buzzed violently against his coffee table, jolting you out of the moment. You leaned over in a trained motion, only to see exactly what you expected:

Garcia: No rest for the wicked, crime fighters. Conference room in 30.

Penny: No rest for the wicked, crime fighters. Conference room in 30.

You let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding, and Spencer looked over at you, doe-eyed and nervous.

“The case?" He asked quietly.

There was a silence filled with words unsaid. "We should go." He said finally. "If we leave now, we can still make it on time."

You only nodded in response, more out of duty than desire, and gulped down the rest of your tea. The thought of what he was about to say burned down your throat.

Driving away from Spencer’s apartment was torturous. The doctor hadn’t said anything to you since he entered the car, only fiddling with his bag as he looked out the window. It was too dark to read his expression, but you wondered if he could still hear the way he called you “beautiful”, or whether the moment had already dissolved into the space between you.

Luckily, you didn’t need to wait long for an answer, as Spencer tugged on your sleeve before you exited the carpark, his face scrunched in worry.

"I really didn't mean for that to be so... weird. Can we talk about this again after the case?" He asked softly, and despite every semblance of logic left in your brain, you couldn’t stop the hope from blooming in your chest and you smiled.

That was when Spencer did something completely uncharacteristic. (You didn't know this at the time, but it was something that you would tease him about for a long time after.)

In one fluid movement, the doctor pulled you into a tight hug that elicited a squeak from you, but it only took a second for the initial shock to wear off before you relaxed completely into his warm touch. He took that as a sign to continue, burying his head into your shoulder and letting out a content sigh.

Unlike waking up to your bodies intertwined, nothing about this was a mistake. Not the way his fingers stroked your back peacefully, nor the way his curly hair tickled your cheek. You felt the stress of the past two weeks melt away in his embrace, and so did any coherent thought, except one: normal friends didn't hug each other like this.

Later when the two of you finally entered the conference room, miraculously still on time, nobody commented on the smiles plastered on your faces but everybody could tell. They were profilers after all.

But for the first time in awhile, you were just too happy to care.

-----------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @mellowalieneggsknight || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

Definition of a False Start here

#mads fics #spencer reid x reader: a lesson in romance #if you read this earlier and some things changed #that’s because I rewrote it lol #but that’s it I promise!! #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #cm fic #cm fanfic #bau #aaron hotchner #hotch #derek morgan #emily prentiss #david rossi #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n fluff

[luminois]

･:*✧ 𝗷𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻;

𝗳𝗼𝗿 @blueprint-han 𝗮𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 💌

𝘄: 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅 𝗶𝘀 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗰𝗲.

𝟭𝟰𝟴𝟰 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀, 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘂𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗹.

“i want nurse innie!”

you watch the little girl’s chubby face turn red as tears start sliding down her cheeks, and you feel hopeless. she looks so small in the hospital bed, the sight disheartening despite the colorful toys and gifts her loved ones have surrounded her space with. she’s exhausted and distressed, and you’re afraid the other little patients in the room are going to get upset as well.

this is your third night shift of the week, you’re tired and your scrubs are starting to feel dirty and itchy. you’re about three minutes away from curling down on the floor and joining the little girl as she sobs her fragile heart out. however, you force yourself to smile at her reassuringly.

“i’m sorry sarang, nurse innie isn’t here right now,” you say, your tone gentle. “is it alright if i help you instead? i promise nurse innie is going to come to you as soon as possible.”

her sobs turn into soft sniffles for a couple seconds, as if she was weighing your words and deciding if she should accept your offer or not. to your chagrin she shakes her head, her curls bouncing around as she starts weeping again.

you hush sarang softly, and when it doesn’t seem to work you call over another nurse to watch over the little girl. there’s only one thing you can do.

you walk out of the room so fast you’re almost running, careful of the people around you as you reach the duty roster at the end of the hallway. your eyes check the board quickly, and you let out a relieved sigh. jeongin should clock in half an hour, and there’s only one place he could be at the moment.

the section of the hospital reserved to the medical personnel is quiet, as the only people who weren’t working were sleeping, trying to gather a couple hours of rest before wearing their scrubs again. with 28 hours of wakefulness on your shoulders, your body is aching for a soft mattress and your eyes are begging for some rest, but you ignore your screaming muscles and push the changing room’s door open. you’re met with the broad expanse of jeongin’s back and shoulders, and you realize you should’ve knocked before coming in.

it hadn’t taken you long to develop a crush on the new male nurse who had joined the hospital a couple months prior. not only jeongin had an unbelievably handsome face and the most charming smile, he was also funny, amazing with children and passionate about his job, and that was all kind of sexy. the natural consequence of getting coffee at 5 a.m. after a particularly harsh shift had been going out for drinks late at night. and the natural consequence of “stopping by” at jeongin’s place after going out for drinks had been getting tangled in his bedsheets after passionately making out against his front door.

he’d made you breakfast in the morning and insisted on driving you to the hospital despite it being his free day, and you were sold. the sex had been mind blowing, and so it had been all the other times after that first night. he cared for your needs before even thinking about his own pleasure, and with every encounter he just got better and better at making you feel good as he started to know your body like the back of his hand.

you two weren’t dating, not yet. you’d gone on dates, some of which hadn’t even ended in the bedroom. at first you’d been afraid all jeongin wanted was some fun, but he’d proved you wrong times and times again. but, despite being on the verge of becoming a real couple, the lack of an official label hadn’t been enough to stop your desire for one another. his kitchen, your bathtub, both of your beds, this same changing room, they all had something in common. all of those places had been witnesses of the unstoppable passion that pulled you and jeongin towards each other, no matter how much you tried to resist against it.

you spot the red tracks your nails had scratched on jeongin’s back that same day and you hold the door’s frame so tight your knuckles turn white. this isn’t the time to get carried away, it really isn’t, but your brain doesn’t seem to remember why you came here in the first place.

“honey, at least close the door if you want to look at me while i change,” jeongin says, flashing you a smile over his shoulder, “this show isn’t for anyone but you.”

you comply quickly, knowing that you would seriously get jealous if anybody else were to see him like this.

“ever thought of becoming a stripper? you’d be a natural,” you play along, a smile growing on your lips as you lean against the closed door.

he laughs, finally putting his shirt on. “but i would only accept you as my client, that wouldn’t be good for the business.”

it’s your turn to laugh, and by the time jeongin has reached you, his arms hugging your waist right away, it has simmered down to a comfortable smile. you place your head on his shoulder, and you could fall asleep right there.

“hey,” he says quietly, resting his cheek against your hair. “you’re tired, mhh?”

you nod, your eyes fluttering closed as jeongin kisses your temple ever so softly. “my shift ends in an hour, i can make it.”

“you should rest, honey, i can clock in early and cover for you. how does that sound?”

his lips move down to your cheek and you want to accept, professionalism be damned. but you shake your head and stand up straight, sleepy eyes locking with jeongin’s enamored ones.

“i just have a couple check ups left to do, i’ll be alright.”

jeongin nods and his eyes move down to your lips. you know what that look means and you want to tell him he really shouldn’t do it but then he’s kissing you and you don’t have the willpower to stop him. your hands get tangled in his hair on their own accord, the traitors. his lips are slow on yours but they still make your knees buckle, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are touching everywhere.

“jeongin,” you sigh as he moves to kiss and suck on your neck, his hands subtly sneaking under your shirt. they’re cold and the contact with your warm skin makes you whimper.

he hums to let you know he’s listening. he’s found that spot behind your ear that he knows drives you crazy, and a couple seconds pass until your brain focuses enough to let out some coherent words.

“baby, we can’t right now.”

“why not?” he asks, and you giggle at the puppy eyes he gives you. he’s the only one who could look that adorable while asking for sex.

you already knew that, but it’s moments like this when you realize just how in love with him you are. and just like that you remember the reason why you came searching for him before you got distracted by the intoxicating feeling being with him gives you.

“sarang won’t let anyone help her but you, she hasn’t stopped crying since she woke up.”

jeongin’s expression grows concerned and he nods quickly, kissing you one last time before you both get out of the room. you’ll be back in each other’s arms once your little patients will be taken care of.

sarang’s eyes light up as soon as they land on jeongin and her tears stop falling almost instantly, as if his mere presence was enough to make her feel better.

“why is princess sarang crying?” he coos, and a toothy smile replaces the little girl’s pout.

while you visit the other children in the room your eyes can’t help but fall on jeongin from time to time. he manages to visit sarang without making her nervous, playing with her and making her laugh like nobody else can, and she’s not the only kid in the hospital who relies on him like that. you’ve gone to toys stores to buy teddy bears with him more than once, because he gifts them to the kids to make them feel less lonely while their parents aren’t there. and you’ve caught him reading stories and singing lullabies to help them sleep once too many times, the sight of the little patients curled up against him after struggling to sleep so endearing it makes your heart skip a beat every time.

despite the attraction and all the excitement being with jeongin brings you, you know this is the reason you’ve fallen for him so hard so fast. he cares for others like nobody else does, and you want to be the one to take care of him in return.

———

do you want to read more?

#jeongin #i.n #stray kids #stray kids i.n #skz #i.n headcanons #i.n reactions #i.n fluff #i.n skz #i.n imagines #i.n x reader #i.n scenarios #i.n smut #i.n x you #i.n x y/n #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin scenarios #jeongin imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #skz fluff #skz smut #stray kids au #my writing

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV  - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions. 

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R. 

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply. 

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible. 

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?” 

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated. 

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically. 

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely. 

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen. 

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.” 

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody. 

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away. 

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer. 

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right? 

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now. 

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #potentially triggering #attempted suicide #injury #all off screen this chapter #character is not actually suicidal but is severely divorced from reality due to space wizard plot device #starwars #codywan #angst #fanfic

[pietrotheavenger]

learn to love

chapter 8 - i do

summary: y/n and steve don’t get along. now, they have to.

pairings: au!steve rogers x fem!reader

warnings: hangover, alcohol

a/n: enjoy!

series masterlist

y/n awoke to soft snoring. her head was resting on steve’s bare chest, his arm protectively curled around her. she could hear his steady heartbeat. her head was throbbing and she groaned, snuggling further into him as a defense to the cool breeze coming in from the ajar window. she lifted her head when she realized that she was in her underwear. she glanced sleepily at her surroundings, pulled the covers up, and fell back asleep.

she woke up some time later with the need to use the bathroom. she looked up and admired steve’s peaceful countenance. his lips were slightly parted and his cheeks were rosy. she sat up and stretched, her back cracking. unbeknownst to her, he began stirring when she moved away from him. he missed her warmth. she pushed the covers off but before she could leave bed, he grabbed her waist, his grip surprisingly firm, and pulled her onto him.

“where are you going?” his voice was raspy and his words slurred together. his eyes were barely open.

“i have to pee.”

“last night-” he began but she interrupted him.

“let’s not talk about it,” she planted her hands on his chest and leaned forward, the ends of her hair tickling him, “let’s just let it happen. we’ll see where we go from here.”

his hooded eyes were drawn to her mouth as a lazy smile spread across his pink lips. “can i kiss you?” he hummed.

“your breath stinks,” she whispered.

“your breath is worse,” he whispered back.

“whatever, rogers,” she playfully slapped his chest before reluctantly leaving him. she slipped into the bathroom, did her business, and just before she began brushing her teeth, there was a knock on the door.

“who is it?”

“me,” she heard steve’s muffled voice from behind the door. she opened the door and looked at him expectantly with her hands on her hips.

“hi,” he had a childish smile on his face.

“hello, steven,” she replied. “may i help you?”

“can i brush my teeth?” he tilted his head to the side, resembling a puppy. she physically could not say no to him. her heart swooned. she stepped back and let him in. they began brushing their teeth, making eye contact in the mirror. he wrapped his arm around her shoulders while standing from behind and held her close to his body. he pulled his brush out of his mouth and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek. she squealed and pushed his face away.

they got dressed and headed downstairs to have breakfast. “good morning, dear,” sarah greeted steve as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. she stood at the island, cutting strawberries.

“mornin’, ma,” he mumbled back and retreated back to y/n’s side.

“how did you two sleep?” she glanced between them as she transferred the fruit from the cutting board to a serving bowl.

“good, thank you,” y/n offered a smile which was returned. she spotted a stack of plates on the counter and decided to set the table. she picked them up, but steve was quick to intervene.

“i can do it, doll,” he told her, gently taking them from her.

“i can do it, too,” she responded, reaching for them.

“you snooze, you lose,” he grinned, stepping back so the plates were just out of her grasp. she unsuccessfully suppressed a smile and shook her head.

breakfast went on without a hiccup. everyone returned upstairs to get ready. he got dressed in his room and she took her garment bag and makeup into sophia’s room, where they chatted as they prepared themselves for the wedding. he racked his brain but he couldn’t remember what she was to wear that morning.

she entered his room casually as he adjusted his tie in the mirror. she went straight to her suitcase, tucking her makeup bag into a corner and draping the garment bag over the back of the desk chair. when he saw her behind him, he turned so quick that he got dizzy for a moment. she wore a tight emerald green dress. it stopped a few inches below her knee, but the plunging neckline and the slit up the leg kept it from being entirely modest. when she turned his back to him, he saw that the back was simply a criss-cross of straps. he cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. she looked like sin and he didn’t mind rotting in hell for an eternity.

“y/n, you look amazing,” he exhaled. he held his hand out to her and she accepted, smiling radiantly at him. he slowly spun her around, taking her all in, and then tugged her close to his body. his hand went to her waist, eyes dropping to her lips. she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“who would’ve thought? the two of us together,” a teasing smile played on her features.

“who would’ve thought?” he echoed.

they stood in silence for a moment that seemed like a lifetime. “are you gonna kiss me or what, rogers?” she raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. that was all the encouragement he needed to crash his lips onto hers. her body arched into his as she giggled into the kiss. she felt sixteen all over again.

“do you think we’re moving too fast?” he asked, after pulling away. he had a smile playing on his lips as he admired her.

“i mean, you are my boyfriend,” she joked, straightening his collar. she avoided his gaze.

“truly,” he added. “are we moving too fast?”

“maybe,” she sighed. he tucked his hand under her chin and tipped her head up so that she would meet his eyes. “but i don’t care,” she told him. her words were genuine.

“it’s okay,” he whispered. the words of comfort were more for him than for her.

the wedding ceremony went beautifully. it was on the intimate side, with less than 50 guests. he had rested his hand on her thigh, his thumb moving back and forth over her skin. he was a subtle distraction. he inched his hand up until she laced her fingers with his. “steve,” her voice was calm but a warning lurked beneath.

he smirked to himself, content with the fact that he had gotten under her skin. “i’ll behave now.”

once they arrived back home, she slipped out of her dress and into a silk robe. she took all of her things into sophia’s room, where they got ready, again. sawyer laid on his sister’s bed and toyed around on his phone. when she returned to steve, his breath was knocked out of her chest. the reception gown fit her like a glove, perfectly tight in all the right places and stretching over the curves of her body. she wasn’t paying attention to him, and instead to the jewelry that she had organized on his desk. she hummed softly to herself as she picked up the gold necklace. steve trailed behind her like a lost puppy. his lips were parted in shock.

“could you help me with the clasp?” she asked after struggling for a moment.

he wasn’t able to form a coherent sentence, so he wordlessly moved her hair out of his way and took the chain from her. his fingers brushed against her skin and goosebumps rose in its wake. he fastened the clasp, before gently running his fingertips down the nape of her neck. her back was pressed against his front. his lips ghosted over her neck as he moved his other hand to trail up her arm. she involuntarily shuddered, breathing out his name. she turned, her hands going to his face and pulled him down and into a kiss.

he stammered for a moment before finding the right words, “you are everything.”

they took a previously arranged limo to the venue for the reception. it was held in some ornate and expensive mansion. y/n was well aware that just a glass of champagne was most likely equivalent to her rent. the overwhelming wealth made her feel insecure. this life was one steve was used to and yet she felt isolated and out of place. she wondered if she would be able to fit in his life. despite this, she smiled and tried her best to not let her true feelings show through her facade.

everyone was lightly socializing, waiting for the newlywed couple to arrive. y/n pulled herself out of a conversation concerning investment banks to go to the restroom. she glanced around for steve, but did not spot him. she asked a waiter for directions and exhaled upon entering the bathroom, relieved to have just a moment of peace. she rolled her shoulders as she opened up her clutch to browse the meager contents and retouch her lipstick. after she had killed enough time, she opened the door, and immediately bumped into sophia.

“oh, hey y/n!” she smiled brightly.

“hi,” she mirrored her expression and stepped back, allowing the blonde girl to enter, “how’s your night going?”

sophia wrung her hands as she spoke, “a good start. i hope it continues like this. how about you?”

“i think i’m a little too sober. i’ve never attended such a nice event,” she admitted.

“it can be a bit overwhelming, even for me,” sophia empathetically replied. “i try to tell myself that it’s just one night.”

“just one night,” she repeated.

“on the bright side, you have steve! the picture he posted was so cute.”

“picture?” her voice went up an octave and she raised an eyebrow.

“yeah, on instagram.”

“yeah, on instagram,” she echoed. she cleared her throat and spoke again, “well, i should go back, now. steve’s probably looking for me.” with that, she breezed out of the restroom.

she found a secluded corner, tore her phone out of her purse, and opened up instagram. the first image to show up on her screen was a selfie of her, pietro, and steve. they were all beaming in the first picture, and in the second picture, steve was gazing at her with an adoration that made her breath catch in her throat. there was no caption on the post. with shaking hands, she locked her phone and placed it back into her purse. her prior feelings of alienation increased tenfold and she slowly returned to the party where everyone was settling into their seats to welcome wanda and vision.

steve had been scanning the crowd, looking for y/n. when he saw her, his face lit up and he raised a hand to beckon her. she briefly met his gaze before dropping it. his smile dropped into a frown and he lowered his hand. when she took her seat next to his, he leaned in close, his voice loud enough for only her to hear, “alright, darlin’?”

she nodded her head without looking at him. his frown deepened. before he could prod her more, the happy couple made their entrance and a round of speeches again. he couldn’t help but frequently glance at her, wondering what had caused the cold shift in her demeanor. “look at me,” he said to her, between speeches. she complied. he couldn’t read her. he reached his hand up and gently stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “what’s wrong?” her resolve melted as her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his touch.

she wanted to pretend like everything was okay, but it wasn’t. she was terrified that she wasn’t enough for him. she managed a weak smile and answered, “nothing.”

they both knew she was lying.

infinity tags:

@ssweet-empowerment ; @stardustandbucky ; @abuckyrogersworld ; @freightcarcap ; @c-a-v-a-l-r-y ; @coffeebooksandfandom ; @somethingmoreclever ; @2dreamcatcher8 ; @illegalportkey ; @fuckthatfeeling ; @xxashy999xx ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @tuliptx ; @wwhitewwolff ; @thisismysecrethappyplace ; @appreciating-chase-brody ; @renanyx ; @maladaptive-ninja-returns ; @marvelrose ; @sophiealiice ; @dreamsfollowed99 ; @galacticstxrdust ; @fitzsimmons-is-forever ; @dumblani ; @i-padfootblack-things ; @pinknerdpanda ;

learn to love tags:

@youunravelme ; @cailin-lefantasy ; @thatoneslytherinbeater ; @i-padfootblack-things ; @clockworkherondale ; @clean-and-claire ; @tits-out-for-cevans ; @evverything-plus-anything ; @denzmallows ; @ibxxmc-blog ; @thefandomzoneisdangerous ; @itsallyscorner ; @brujademente ; @dusuncelidusuncesiz ; @complete-trash-101 ; @radical-gecko ; @liebestraume-e : @cruelsummer-s ; @jgun2001 ;

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #enemies to lovers #marvel #fanfiction #captain america #x reader #reader insert #steve rogers #the avengers #mcu #slow burn #slowburn

[gr0vndz3ro]

More -pt.2

Bakugou x reader

Warnings: Angst, cursing, mentions/use of alcohol, almost harasment?,  mention/use of drugs??, my heart just hurt ok, mentions of fwb

Word count:3,220

A/N: thank you for the responses on the first part, this is pretty soon after but I still felt really inspired for it. But ask and you shall receive. Here is part two for More, I hope yall like it (: 

Read part one here: pt.1

You regretted saying goodbye.

From the moment you had walked away from him and left in the rain you were filled with regret. The thought of if he watched you leave haunting your thoughts. You doubted it. It had been just over 2 months since you ended things between the two of you, but the ache in your heart made it feel like so much longer. Maybe I should have just kept things the same, at least then I’d still have him. Thoughts like this constantly circling your mind as you laid in bed, engulfed in darkness, the only comfort you felt was from the warmth of your blanket.

You cursed yourself for feeling like this, for being this dumb. This whole situation was just so fucking clique. The fuck buddy falling in love for the other when everything had started on a strict no feelings, no strings attached agreement. Thinking that you were strong enough not to fall in love with the way that his fingers left goosebumps across your skin. That you could listen to his endless sweet nothing that he would whisper into your ear and not fall in love with the man behind each and every word. Thinking that every time you were thinking of him that maybe he was thinking of you too. Eventually you were ripped out of this hope with every day that had passed with out a response from him. 

With every morning that you woke up to no new notifications from the only person you wanted to hear from, you felt your chest get heavier. You figured that the best way for you to get over him was to try talking to someone new, but you couldn’t help but want to leave every flirt on read. They weren’t him. But you needed some way to get him off your mind. So you drowned yourself in men. Not spending a moment alone, because you knew that as soon as you did he’d creep back in to your thoughts.

At first your friends brushed it off as a typical rebound, but after a while they started getting concerned. You constantly ditch them and cancel plans saying that your busy, just to find you in a bar or with some guy. They couldn’t keep track of you any more, you were all over the place. Your best friend Mina couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore. It broke her heart every night that she found you at some bar and managed to bring you home, hearing the way that you spilled your emotions to her in your drunken state. She knew she needed to do something.

You woke up in your bed, a throbbing pain in your head. On your nightstand there was a cup of water, a pain killer, and a note. You swallow the pill while picking up the note, “Hey I left you some food in your fridge, don't forget to eat. The gang all wants to go to the movies the weekend, and I hope you’ll join us. I love you hun-Mina” You small smile makes it’s way to your lips as you read the note. She was probably the reason you were at home. Pulling the sheets up the body, you let your head hit the pillow again, not wanting to deal with the real world yet. You closed your eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall back to sleep. 

But begrudgingly you got up from your vibe, pulling the sheets away from you and walk over to the mirror. Geez I look like a mess. Was the only thought that came to your head as you looked at yourself. You walk over to your closet to pick out some clothes before making your way to the shower. You turn it on and let it heat up before stepping in. The feeling of the hot water hitting your back relaxes you but you can’t help but start to think. 

Had all of this really been a smart idea. Should you have even started all of this with the angry blond? You had to have known that he couldn’t feel the same. After all those years in high school and he only came out with one best friend and only a handful that he tolerated. So what made you think you were different. What made you think that you could be the one to bring down his giant walls and make him bring someone into his life. That he would ever be able to see you more than just another extra in the way of his personal success. You shake your head in attempt to get those thoughts out of your head but you had ignored them for to long. 

But a part of you wished that you could have been the one to get him to open up. Be able to see the softer side that you know he has, the one that he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world so well. To be able to have him come home from a particularly rough day at work and the first thing he does is hold you in his arms, kissing your forehead as he vents to you about everything that is on his mind. To be able to have him pull you close to him in the dead of the night like you had caught him the few times you woke up in the middle of the night. The way he squeezed onto you while you were dead asleep making uou think that maybe, just maybe he had felt the same for you. But as the water trails down your back and into the drain, and your standing alone in your bathroom shower, you are abruptly reminded of how alone you really are. That it was only you that felt that way and nothing more. 

“Fuck this, I can’t keep feeling like this” You say to yourself as you finish washing. You put on your clothes and walk over to your vanity to start getting ready. “Lets go get rid of these pesky emotions what do you say.” You say to your reflection as you grab a brush and get ready for the night.

~time skip~

When Bakugou got off of work he wasn’t expecting the first thing he sees to be text from his old friend Mina. But what he was expecting even less then that was the contents of the texts. He understood why Mina was concerned but why did she think he would be the best person to call in this situation. None the less here he was, standing in some random club on a side of town he had never been too. If the drive wasn’t enough to tick him off, then the booming sound coming from the pack venue was. You just have to find her then you can go the fuck home, was the only thought that was pushing him through this crowd. Had it been anyone else, he would have probably just said fuck it and went home, but he felt he owed you this at least. 

But his search was starting to prove useless as he had been in the club for almost 2 hours without even so much of a glimpse of you. He started heading to the door so that he could call Mina back and let her know he couldn’t find you until he spotted you at the bar. You were sitting there with some mans arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bakugou didn’t recognize him as any of your friends so he made his way over. When he had made it over to the duo he could tell for sure that it for sure wasn’t someone you knew. His eye brow raised at the view of the mans lips attaching to your neck, the two of your eyes meeting. He could see it in your eyes that something was off.

“Who’s this?” Bakugou lets out, annoyed that he even has to be asking this question. The said person in question paid no attention and continued his grouping. 

“Thiis -hick- is my new boyfriend for toniight. So if you don't miiind, im -hick- buuussssyyyy” the words slurring for your mouth, barely able to put together a coherent sentence. Bakugou rolled his eyes at your state. He went to turn around and leave when his eyes caught sight of your drink, a small empty capsule beside it, and suspicious trail of bubbles leading from the bottom to the top of your drink and it clicked in his head. 

“I think it’s time to get you home.” he reaches over to grab your hand but is quickly shut down by the man beside you. His arms caging around your frame acting as a barrier between the two of you. “Move out of my way extra.”

“Can’t you see that we’re kinda busy here pal. Why don’t you go fuck off and find something else to get your dick wet in alright, this ones mine for the night.” The man grabbing a hold of your face to pull you into a kiss, as you’re unable to fully process everything that he is saying. A crackling sound can be heard from behind you as the man that was attacking your mouth was ripped off of you. You gasp for a breath of air feeling previously suffocated by the stranger you had met a half hour ago.

“I’m going to be nice since she’s here and give you one warning. You are going to back the fuck up and leave her the hell alone before I blast you head off do you understand? Or you would you like to stay will I get someone to test out this drink to see what the fuck you put into it? Its your choice you fucking lowlife, so what is it going to be?” The man that was previously latched on to you was quickly fleeing to the door, trying to create as much distance as he could between you and the raging blond as he could. “That's what I thought, fucking coward” His attention now turning over to you as he notices you starting to lose your balance just sitting in the stool. You start leaning heavily and Bakugou is quick to catch you before you hit the floor. “shit, shit. Fuck. Okay we need to get you out of here” Is all that is able to leave his mouth as he picks you up bridal style and heading to the door. 

“Nooooo I was just having -hick- fuuuun” you head dropping back as you watch all the people passing you by as he walks out the door. Bakugou pays no attention to your ramblings as he makes his way further out the club, the bouncer giving him a suspicious look before realizing the situation and clear the exit to allow for the two of you to leave quicker. He makes it to his car and manages to unlock it while still holding it and puts you into the passenger seat. As he goes to reach across your body to grab the seat belt. “Ooo a hug?” You reach up to try to wrap your arms around him but he moves away from your reach. He shuts your door before walking over to his side of the car and stepping in. A pout across your face as you speak up again, “Why no hug?” He looks over to meet your stare.

“Because I know that if you weren’t in the state you’re in right now you wouldn’t want to hug me, and un like that asshole I know some fucking manners.” His grip on the wheel tightening as he thinks back to the scumbag who had the fucking audacity to lay his hands on you and take advantage of you in this mess of a state. The drive back to his apartment was quite from then on, seeing as you passed out half way through his sentence. When the two of you had arrived he carried you up to his apartment. He walked you into your room before trying to decide on whether to change you out of your outrageous outfit. He didn’t want you to feel like he was taking advantage of you, but he couldn’t let you sleep in those uncomfortable clothes. After struggling with the tightness of the dress and the lack of help for your semi comatose bod, he finally managed to get you out of your dress and into one of his shirt, quickly swallowing you in its size. He very well could have put you in some of your own clothes that you had managed to leave here but he couldn’t stop himself from needing to see you wrapped up in his shirt. He layed you in his bed and pulled the blankets over your body before walking out of the room, making sure to look back a final time at you before exiting the room completely.

~the next morning~

You woke up with a pounding in your head, this time different from before. You look down at the blanket that covered your body before taking in your surroundings. There was no way. How were you back in his room. You quickly get out of bed, quickly regretting it by the feeling that takes over when you get to your feet. You felt like you were going to throw up, and not just because of the feeling in your head, but because of the all to familiar smell of caramel. Your eyes quickly meet the door what you hear a knock as you walk over to open it not wanting to meet the eyes of the person on the other side.

“You look like shit” You quickly go to slam the door shut, but your stopped by a hand in the frame. The door pushing open as you fail to keep it shut, Bakugou winning and taking a step inside of his room, you wanted nothing more than to lock yourself away forever. “What the fuck are you doing with yourself? It’s bad enough you don't talk to anyone but I have to come home to a call from Mina to come and rescue you? What the hell are you doing? You can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending that it’ll make all of your problems go away.” He looked down, taking you in. The way you stood infront of him making him want to do nothing more than to hug you but he couldn’t help himself from putting up his wall, trying to block you out

“I don't owe you an explanation Bakugou. Thank you for whatever you did but I’m going to be leaving now.” You go to try to slip past him to get to the front door, but soon are stopped by his grip on your wrist.

“Your friends are starting to get concerned. They’re worrying about you and honestly I’m starting to see why.” You couldn’t help but scoff at his words. He was concerned about you?? You could really tell by the way that he checked up on you, Your eyes just rolling at the thought. You didn’t have the energy to play these games with him. Pulling your arm out of his wrist you take a step toward him, anger starting to take over as you speak up.

“You’re concerned Bakugou? That’s just fucking rich. I could really feel your worry over the countless calls and messages you left, oh wait, my bad that wasn’t you, was it? That’s right because you never fucking called or texted or anything. But now all of a sudden you think you’re going to swoop in here and save the day, pull me out of the despair that apparently is my life and make everything better?”

“Y/N-” He goes to speak up but you cut him off.

“You know what I think I’m finally starting to understand you. Your the kind of person who loves toying with others emotions. You give them messages and make them feel like you care with sweet words, but leave in the middle of the night making them feel all alone. You make them grow used to your constant attention and texts and then when they pour their heart to you, you fall off the face of the earth. You choose to have friends with benefits because you are so fucking afraid of commitment it hurts. Why is it so impossible for you to let someone care about you?!” Your finger are prodding his chest roughly as your voice starts breaking at the raw emotion pouring out of you.

“Would you just listen to me for a second?” His hand grabbing your wrist again to stop your tiny attacks on his chest.

“What can you say that would possibly make any of this better Bakugou?”

“You’re right okay.” You were half tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The Bakugou Katsuki admitting you were right? You never thought you’d live to see the day. But you were taken out of your thoughts as he continued. “You’re right. I am scared of commitment. But it’s not because I’m afraid of someone leaving me or people caring about me. It’s because I’m scared I’m never going to live up to your expectations. That I’m never fucking going to be good enough for someone like you. So yeah I thought that being friends with benefits would just be easier. But -fuck- being around you, it was so fucking hard not to fall in love with you. With all the little shit that you do, constantly making me think about you. I’ll admit that I was a coward. Letting you leave that day, when I wanted nothing more than to run after you and make you come back. To tell you exactly how I felt about you. But I let you go, so I didn’t feel like I deserved a second chance. So I’m sorry that I never texted you okay? But you deserved more than that.” 

You had never felt so much emotion pour out of him before, the wall he had built crumbling infront of you. And that’s when his words hit you.

“You love me?” Your voice soft as you look up, looking into his eyes, hoping that what you heard hadn’t been a mistake. He stepped forward, his hand coming up to meet the side of your face. You melt into his touch, almost forgetting how warm it was. He held your face in his hands as a look you had never seen crossed his face.

“Did it take you that long to realize?” Your eyes start to tear up as you find yourself looking at his lips, not believing what you had heard. You close you eyes, as he leans down, his lips meeting yours in a soft but passionate kiss. Emotion poured out of both of you as your lips moved in perfect sync. 

You knew that you both had a lot you need to talk through, but for the first time in months the ache in your heart was gone. You were once again wrapped up in his arms and for the moment that's all that mattered. And there wasn’t anything you craved more.

#bakugo #bakugou #bakugou angst #bakugo angst #katsukibakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugo katsuki angst #angst #bnha #mha #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x y/n #bnha angst #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha angst #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[amrio]

a nightmare kinda night

So I had this whole story plotted out and everything for fnf's favorite bomb boy and the gang that revolved around fun-sized whitty and how he would've been involved, but I lost interest a while ago... Anyways here's one of the fluff chapters that need no context at all. Oh and fun-sized whitty was dubbed Itty (like itty bitty whitty haha). There's an intro chapter if you want an idea of where this was headed btw.

(Not my characters, they belong to their creators)

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It had been one of Whitty's favorite kind of nights. The kind where the apartment was cool and quiet and there was rain outside the window that he could watch if he wanted to. But that had been three hours ago and the rain had turned into a storm since then. He didn't mind storms all that much, but they were annoying when the crack of thunder and flash of lightning kept waking him up. He wasn't a deep enough sleeper to ignore the loud noises, so he was left to stare either out the window or at the doorway in a daze waiting for the noise to finally stop.

On one hand, he supposed he could get up and go do something to pass the time, but on the other hand, no one else was awake and he was rather comfortable despite not being on the bed he had been given. It had been too ingrained that he had to be ready to move at any and all times in case he was caught up to, so settling down and shutting his eyes for eight long hours just didn't happen. Instead he opted to sitting in the corner facing the doorway, sometimes still sleeping with his eyes opened, but the longer he stayed with Carol the less on edge he felt. And he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing for his general safety. But that was a problem for the brighter hours of the day. As of right then, he was perfectly content to relax into the pile of pillows that Carol had stashed in his corner when she figured out where he slept. Those were nice. He had never had those before. He definitely preferred them over the hard wall and floor after being told what they were for. Softness was new, but he was finding that it wasn't necessarily bad.

So, yes, he was comfortable enough to rest with his eyes shut and listen to the rain in between the crashes of the storm. But then there was a new noise. It wasn't anything like the storm, it didn't sound like passing people outside, but it didn't sound happy. It didn't sound like it was outside at all really. It was much closer than that. It was whimpering. Was someone crying?

Whitty opened his eyes and took a wary look around. He didn't think the sound was coming from Carol's room. She was a deep sleeper and while she hadn't ever cried as far as he knew, the sound didn't match her voice. This left the only other person in the apartment. Itty. The little bomb had taken to sleeping in his bed since he didn't use it. A glance over in the bed's direction confirmed it. Even in the dark of the room, Whitty could tell that Itty had managed to fight the blankets into a knot around himself and was trying to lash out against something in his dream. He didn't have those very often. Dreams. The few he had had were either ungodly amounts of bizarre or absolute terrors that he woke up from crying. After a morning of waking up to one of the bad ones, he had asked Carol about if she ever did that. She had said yes to having what she called a nightmare, but she said she didn't usually wake up crying from them. The concern in her features was obvious even to him, but it wasn't the first time she had looked at him like that, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

With that in mind, Whitty took on the job of being concerned as he got up and walked over to the far side of the bed where Itty was struggling. He was fairly certain that his own nightmares were due to his past including both the lab and The Greater Good always on his heels. But as far as he and Carol had figured, Itty didn't remember much about his past, at least, nothing painful... Yet here he was, crying out in his sleep, scaring Whitty half to death when he started saying coherent words.

"No—! St-stop! Please! It—hurts! Please! No!"

It was painful to watch to say the least. Whitty had never seen the kid look so distraught, with the exception of when he had accidentally caught himself on fire, but that had been more of a panic. This was despair and agony. Thick black tears streamed down the kid's face while he shook and tried to jerk away from whatever was assaulting him. "Please! Stop! Why are you—! Please! I ca-can't!"

He had had enough of that, so Whitty reached down and tried to shake the little bomb awake. At first Itty's struggle only worsened with the grasp on his arm, but after Whitty shook him more insistently he finally seemed to waken a little.

Ittty's eyes shot open and he looked around wild-eyed, clearly not seeing his surroundings, and still shaking, but he did see Whitty and lurched towards him. Well he certainly tried to anyways. The blankets were too tight around him for him to get very far. When he realized this, he only cried harder. "P—please!" He was desperate.

Whitty, not really sure why, acted without thinking and got to work untangling the sobbing bomb. The second Itty was free, Whitty found himself having to brace against the impact of Itty jumping at him. When he got over the fact that Itty was now latched around his neck in a vice-like grip, he actually registered what was happening. Itty, the poor little kid who had the same start he had, was crying his eyes out and scared out of his mind. At first Whitty started to panic a little on the inside. What was he supposed to do with this?! He didn't know how to help in this kind of situation??? But then he looked down at Itty and it clicked. What would I have wanted when I was like this?

The answer to that was an easy one. He didn't even realize what he had wanted until he had been given it with Carol. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted someone there with him. No one would ever truly know what he was and had been going through, but someone's nonthreatening presence would have helped to ground him. As he looked at Itty in his little cat patterned pj's, it occurred to him that that wasn't entirely true, not anymore. He wasn't completely alone. Itty had been put through the same crap that he had, but the kid was lucky. He had Whitty to help him through it.

So with his mind made up, the older bomb moved as gingerly as possible, sat down, and shifted until he was leaning against the headboard with Itty tight against his chest. He wasn't very good at the whole affection thing yet, but he had seen Carol comfort Itty enough times to have a good idea of what he was supposed to do. First things first? Get him to stop crying.

"Hey," he muttered down to the crying kid. "Itty. Look at me."

Itty had his face buried in Whitty's neck and didn't seem to hear him, sobs still wracking through his little body.

Whitty blew out a puff of air before trying again. "Itty." He nudged him out of his hiding spot and offered a small smile when he saw the pair of normally bright, but now horribly scared eyes finally look up at him through the tears streaming down his face. "Hi. Think you can focus on me for a second?"

Itty looked so so confused, but after a second he gave a hiccuping nod. Then a clap of lightening struck followed by the deafening boom of thunder and sent Itty into crying hysterics all over again. He was right back in the hollow of Whitty's neck, but for a whole new reason.

Whitty glared at the storm outside, the rain wasn't going to ease up anytime soon and neither would the noise. How was he supposed to get the kid to ignore something as loud as thunder?! The headphones Carol had given him were on the other side of the room, but he knew that getting up wasn't even remotely an option with Itty attached to him. So he looked around for something nearby. Something to block the noise...?

Then he looked down at Itty again and it appeared that the kid already had it covered, or at least unintentionally had a good idea. The little bomb, in his panic, was trying his hardest to burrow into the side of Whitty's hood and hide from life and the loud scary things in it. That was a fairly easy solution Whitty figured. Plus it would even shield Itty from the flash of lightning so maybe he would calm down and go back to sleep. He's still not sure how he managed to get to the zipper with Itty in the way, but after a few minutes of rearranging and struggling with the petrified child, Itty ended up resting snug in the jacket with his head now on Whitty's chest and safely hidden away from the storm outside.

Another flash and crack of the weather outside had Itty tightening his grip again much to Whitty's annoyance. I thought we just fixed that issue. But he supposed that still made sense. Just because he couldn't see the storm didn't mean that Itty couldn't still hear it. It shook the apartment for Pete's sake. Of course he'd notice it. He needed a distraction or something else to focus on. But what else was there for him to do? It's not like there was anything he could go get for Itty to listen to. What else did Carol do when the kid was upset or feeling down? What did she do when he was upset?

He scrunched up his face trying to think as he watched another flash light up the room and scare Itty again. Normally she would get his attention and get him to sit down so he was at her height. Then she could effectively hug him and not his legs, and so far Whitty had the Hug Step accomplished. After that it was a toss up between talking him through whatever had stressed him out at the time or being quiet and there with him until he calmed down, depending on how upset he was. Well...that or she got him to sing. He liked singing with her quite a lot, so she usually hummed something that he could hum right back until he was up to singing and by then he had usually forgotten about what had set him off in the first place. ...How he had managed without her a year ago, he had no idea.

He personally didn't feel like singing right then. The room was pretty quiet aside from the storm, but his singing voice was not. He wasn't trying to compete with the thunder (even though he probably could and win), he was just trying to be a distraction. The question of if he should hum at all was answered the second he looked down at Itty's shaking frame. The poor kid hadn't asked for any of this. So Whitty sighed and started to hum. At first he didn't really know what he was humming, there hadn't been any song in particular on his mind at the time, but after a few notes he realized that it was the same song that Carol sang to him when he was upset.

Itty didn't react immediately, still flinching at the next bout of noise from the storm, but slowly his grip loosened and his crying faded in to sniffles and then just hiccups. He tucked himself closer to Whitty, but not out of terror this time. This time he was trying to get closer to the calmer sound of Whitty's song.

This entire time Whitty as been more or less still sprawled out on the bed, with his long legs propped up over the end of the bed and his arms still at his sides, unsure of what to do with himself. As Itty's breathing slowed, the need to curl around the kid suddenly hit him and he really had no idea what do with that. But...Carol did tell him that it was okay to respond to instincts like that. They were normal. Some of his amalgamated DNA was human after all. He had just never had a chance to indulge in any of the more touchy feel-y instincts before. But...they were why he liked hugs after he had had one. So now he hesitantly glanced at Itty, who looked pretty comfortable where he was, and shifted until his legs were crossed under him and his arms were curled protectively around the kid.

If it was any condolences to him, Itty almost immediately sighed and didn't even register the next crack of thunder. In fact, he appeared to be dozing off again. Perhaps Whitty had actually done it! Still humming, the bomb couldn't help but smile a little at his victory. He had calmed down a frantic, teary-eyed kid, without anyone else's help. And the thunder didn't even bother Itty anymore! Double win!

After a while Whitty ended up settling enough to shut his own eyes for a while, not to sleep—at least, not intentionally—but he could enjoy the weird but not bad feeling of Itty leaning against him. It wasn't entirely new to have someone using him as a pillow, Carol did it all the time. Her napping on top of him kept him in place and out of trouble, and he got to bask in the comfort of her trusting him enough to sleep within such close proximity. But Carol wasn't like him. She was soft and little.

Itty was little too, he supposed, but he wasn't soft. Not like Carol. He and the kid were made of the same stuff. They were both had rough skin and were often scalding to the touch when upset. And well. Itty was just in tears over a nightmare. Whitty didn't think anyone else could handle the little bomb when he was truly upset, just like the previous "fire" incident. But to him, the burning hot was nothing more than warm. Now, he didn't like why Itty was so worked up, but it was comforting to have someone so similar to himself. It was familiar.

Everything in life was so foreign to him. Affection, technology, people not being violent to him, having a roof over his head, eating a full meal...but Itty was not on that list. Itty was like himself, and he knew himself pretty well. The way Itty responded to situations was just like how he did. If something ticked him off Whitty recognized the heat rolling off of the kid's frame just as he recognized the spark at the end of his fuse and the little cracks in reality at his feet when the kid was truly angry. Itty's reactions were small compared to his own, but seeing another react the same was...it was interesting. Other people saw that all the time—people reacting in similar manners to themselves, but Whitty never had before. It was somewhat comforting if he was being honest.

He briefly wondered if that was what it was like to have a family. It seemed like a family thing, but he wasn't exactly an expert on that. The TV shows Carol watched sometimes had families involved and it seemed to line up with his thought process. People reacting similarly to the people around them who in turn knew and even expected the reactions. These families always seemed to enjoy each other's company to some degree, and he enjoyed Itty's company most of the time. Was that the same thing?

Whatever it was, Whitty decided it wasn't a bad thing, at least, it didn't make him feel anything bad. Looking down at Itty one last time, the only thing he felt was warm. Warm wasn't bad, right? He felt warm every time Carol grabbed his arm to show him something and even when Hex excitedly called him over from the other side of the basket ball court. Warm always followed him when he was around them, people he trusted or at least, people he wasn't afraid of. So yeah, he supposed, even if family wasn't the right word, he liked the feeling that was nestled in his chest as he accidentally drifted off with the smaller bomb leaning against him.

It was another new weird thing, but perhaps he could get used to it.

#fnf #friday night funkin #fnf mods #whitty mod #fnf fic #fluff #fnf carol #fnf fun sized whitty #this was back before the drama involving the whitty mod and I was more onboard with the original scared of life whitmore #there was gonna be a wholeeeee thing here but my brain said no #I have two other chapters if you want them #fnf found family #plz ignore any spelling mistakes #story #my writing #I don't own any character here #whitty x carol