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johnwickb1tsch · 4 months

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Young!John Wick x Model!Reader Imagine

Imagine you are the love of John Wick's life...

You meet in Paris when he’s a young man. You spend a mind-blowing night together, and watch the sun rise from Sacré-Coeur. He disappears, and you’re devastated because no one has ever made you feel that way, and you’re certain you’ll never see him again. But throughout the years he keeps finding you as you travel for work. He kisses you silly in the Gamla Stan of Stockholm, makes you cum on his fingers in a dark club in London, and when he leaves you utterly wrecked in Rome you know that you’re in love with this man. You don’t know exactly what he does for a living, but you’re not stupid. You’ve memorized every inch of his body, and you notice as his collection of scars multiplies over the years. You are half convinced he's a spy, but then there are the tattoos...ominous as they are captivating, they suggest membership in a darker world than the shadows of international espionage. You cannot reconcile it. How can this sweet man, this man who makes you laugh, who brings you joy and such exquisite pleasure, be a part of such a violent occupation? When you finally get up the courage to ask him he just shakes his head, and says it’s better you don’t know before kissing you in that way that utterly scrambles your brain cells.

-It all started in Paris with a broken heel... You nearly fell into traffic, but a strong arm around your waist snatched you back from death.

You hid against his chest for a long moment, even though he was a total stranger, because he felt so safe. You were in Paris for your first Fashion Week—and you were so lost. It’s the 1990s, a dark age in which we didn’t have handheld computers to pleasantly tell us where to go, and we used archaic documents to find our way known as paper maps...And you’d left yours in your hotel accidentally.

You look up to see kind brown eyes fixed down on you. “Are you alright?” You hate to think it, but you are so relieved to hear an American accent. You have been yelled at no less than three times in French that day, and even if you totally deserved it, you're a bit gun shy now.

“Yes. Thank you. Jesus, I...” You look at the traffic barreling by at breakneck speed, a chill running down your spine. “Thank you,” you say again. You look up at him, really look at him, and realize you're in the arms of the most handsome man you've ever seen—and you work in fashion.

“You're welcome.”

He seems as taken by you as you are by him, and for a stretch of long moments you just stand there staring at each other like moon-eyed idiots. He looks down, suddenly shy. It's totally endearing. “Sorry,” he apologizes, releasing you slowly. You teeter on your broken heel, and you can tell he is ready to grab you again if he has to. This protectiveness makes a surprising warmth bloom in your heart.

“Do you...need help getting somewhere?” he asks. You wonder if it’s that obvious you’re lost. Usually you'd be wary of that question from a stranger. You've dealt with so many creeps throughout your life. But somehow you sense that he’s sincere.

“I guess I'd better get back to my hotel.”

Sebastiano was going to kill you. You broke a $600 pair of heels...well maybe Gucci should have made them better, the lazy bastards.

“Can I get you a cab?”

With your broken heel, you guess you’re not hoofing it back. “Sure.” He hails one down, and you’re delighted when he climbs in with you, speaking to the driver in perfect French, bless him.

“Where are we headed?” You give him the name of your hotel, and he repeats it the way it’s supposed to be said. Oh. No wonder the previous drivers gave you such contemptuous looks… You took Spanish in high school, ok? You can read French but have zero experience speaking it.

When you arrive at the hotel your savior thrusts a wad of Francs through the window before you have a chance to even open your purse, and helps you out of the cab. You are totally leaning against his arm more than you have to. You can feel the hard curve of his bicep beneath the fine fabric of his suit, and it makes you a little giddy. Only once you’re safe in the lobby does he seem willing to release you, though somehow your hand has ended up in his, and you find you don’t really want to let go. “Are you doing anything later?” you ask boldly, before he can disappear back into the bustle of Paris and you’ll never find him again.

He pays you a melancholy smile that squeezes your heart for some reason. “Unfortunately, I have to work,” he says. You make a pouty face that draws his attention to your lips. The intensity in those dark eyes is thrilling. “Maybe if I finish early…I could join you?”

You know you grin like an idiot at this suggestion. “I’ll be at the Versace afterparty. I could…have your name put on the list?”

This seems to amuse him for some reason, his mouth twisting in a smirk. “I can find you,” he says, and your heart flutters. In fact, when he presses his lips to your knuckles, your heart attempts to flutter right out of your chest.

He turns to go but you call, “Wait!” He pauses. “What’s your name?”

The smile he pays you is heart stopping. “Jardani,” he answers quietly. “But everyone calls me John.” You bite your lip, nodding, very pleased with this new bit of information, sensing that maybe he’s told you something just for you. “I hope I get to see you later.”

He nods too, touching your cheek lightly. “You will.”

It sounds like a promise.

-You should be beside yourself with excitement because you’re walking your first runway in Paris, and this could be the moment that makes or breaks your career, but the real reason for your nerves is the hope that you’ll see him again.

-The show goes great. You kill it. Sebastiano, your friend and the designer you’d modeled for, can hardly contain himself. But you find you’re just watching the clock ticking down the seconds until later.

-John does find you later. You have a drink, and you dance, and from the adoring way he looks at you, you feel brave enough to ask if he wants to go someplace quieter. You go for a little walk, and even though it’s the wee hours of the morning you feel perfectly safe with this man. He kisses you on the Pont Alexandre, his hands in your hair, and your fingers curl in the lapels of his jacket to hold him to you. You ask if he wants to go back to your hotel, and he agrees. This man looks at you like you are something irreplaceably precious, and you don’t know how you’ll let him go.

-He is strong. In your hotel room he picks you up by your thighs and presses you into the wall, kissing you senseless before carrying you to the bed. His hands are calloused, but he’s so gentle with you. He touches you like you were made for him, like he was born knowing how to make you see stars. He claims you with his hands and his mouth and his big, beautiful cock deep inside you, and you know you’ll never be the same after this. You’ve been disappointed so many times that you almost don’t know how to handle an encounter going this well.

-When he stirs in the blue light of pre-dawn your arms tighten around him. You’re not even awake yet, but you don’t want him to leave. He kisses you behind the ear and you practically purr. “Want to see the second most beautiful sight in Paris?”

“Yes,” you agree.

“Bring your camera.” You’d told him about your interest in photography. Maybe modeling was paying the bills, but you’d actually majored in fine art, and minored in literature. Naturally, your interests make for shit at paying bills.

Sleepily you get dressed. It takes a little longer than usual because you can’t stop kissing each other between pulling on garments. Soft, slow kisses that curl your toes. You sense deep down that every one of them is infused with apology, and goodbye. It breaks your heart, but greedily you’ll take every second with him you can get.He takes you to Sacré-Coeur in the heart of Montmartre, the very roof of Paris. You sit on the steps and watch the sun rise over the city, fiery oranges and pinks painting the sky and rendering the buildings aglow. It truly is beautiful, but you don’t lift your lens to try to capture it. You sit with your arm linked with his, and experience this moment with him as fully as you can. You want to remember everything.

“You didn’t take a picture,” he teases once the sun has cheerfully risen above the horizon.

You pull out the camera and frame him in your lens, his sleepy smile and bed-mussed hair. You feel something shift in your heart as your finger depresses the button. Click. You’re not sure if it’s the camera in your hand, or something settling into place in your heart that has always belonged there.

“Now I have the first most beautiful sight in Paris,” you say.

He laughs at that. “I meant that was you,” he insists, lacing his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand. He takes you to breakfast, and you enjoy dark coffee and delectably crafted pastries with your legs tangled together under the table. Afterwards he takes you back to your hotel, and in the gilt-appointed lobby somehow you know what’s coming.

“I have to go,” he says sadly. You actually believe his regret isn’t an act.

You nod, leaning into his large hand on your cheek.

“I’ll never forget you, y/n.”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, and you close your eyes. You are not going to cry.

“Likewise, I promise you.”

You don’t exchange any further information. You know that if it was possible to see him again, he would have offered it to you. There is something mysterious about this man. Something almost…forbidden, and a part of you knows that the little time you stole together was a precious gift.

He kisses you one last time, a passionate, soul-rending thing that leaves you utterly weak in the knees. He says nothing more, pressing his forehead to yours one final time before turning to go. You watch his tall, dark form exit the hotel into the Paris morning, and you know he’s taking a piece of your heart with him as he goes.

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tbc because goddamn this got long...

part deux >>

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #ok so maybe you are helen?#but its written from your pov so you're welcome lol #john wick x helen #keanu reeves #keanu x you #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #ernff i just saw JW4 last week #that sunset tho #fucked me up

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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Uhmmm.... so I had a prompt idea. What if hero arrested villain, and handed him to the authorites, and he basically told her that he'd make her pay for it. Then hero goes to the prison for a different reason weeks later, where she sees villain, terrified, sick, and drugged. So, she reluctantly takes him home and cares for him. She is scared he will attack her when he's lucid, but when he does fully wake up, he's just terrified.

This is such a good idea! I saw your submission right before I went to bed and laid there thinking about it, so as you can see I was quite excited to write it.

Paying For It

Warnings: threats, horrible treatment by authorities, left to be sick, fever, blood, drugged, forced sedation, unconsciousness, nightmares, smoking mention, paralysis (due to sickness), sick animal analogy, delirium

"You will pay for this," he growled as the handcuffs clicked into place. "I will make you you pay for this and not by money, no-" a chuckle "- I will hurt you."

Hero shuddered as she walked down the icy path back to the same prison that she recently turned Villain into. Horrible thoughts of that said villain breaking out and torturing her flooded into her mind, making her already chilly veins even colder. She hugged her fleece tighter around her and adjusted her scarf, suddenly wishing she wore her winter coat.

Before she knew it, Hero was trotting up the steps towards the concrete building. It was, by design, barren yet strong.

She had some documents to bring to the office. There was a new supervillain in town, actually more like ten, but Hero only managed to get information about the one. They most likely moved in after the biggest threat around, Villain, was arrested.

She opened the door, closing it quietly, and walked up to the desk. The hero, a young boy, most likely a sidekick holding down the fort while his mentor went to do something else, sitting up there was lazily playing a video game on his phone.

Hero coughed to get his attention. The boy didn't respond.

"Hello?" Hero asked.

The boy startled, tossing his phone backwards. "I wasn't," he defended, "on my phone, I swear."

"Uh huh," Hero grunted, sliding the papers over to the boy. "Where's your boss?"

"Probably smoking or something," the boy chuckled, then stopped and looked at Hero with a nervously apologetic expression. "I shouldn't have- you weren't meant to know."

Hero shook her head and said, "I don't care about my colleagues personal habits, but can you get him for me?"

The boy nodded and rushed off, returning later with a stern looking man.

"Superhero," Hero acknowledged, nodding slightly. He smiled then looked at the papers on the desk.

"Are these about..." He looked up at Hero.

"The new villain, yes," Hero finished his sentence, crossing her arms.

"Good, very good," Superhero momentarily flipped through them. In that silence, a thought bubbled up in Hero's mind.

"How's Villain?" She asked. "It's been awhile."

Superhero's face paled, as his toe nervously tapped the floor. Hero raised an eyebrow.

"We've had some... issues, so Villain is spending sometime in detention," Superhero said. He coughed, then said in an overly joyful tone, "Thanks for this Hero, do you want me to escort you to your car?"

"I would actually like to see Villain. Maybe I can, you know, talk to him about his behavior," Hero declined the offer, stepping in front of the papers. Something isn't right...

"Well you see, that wouldn't be beneficial. If anything it would be detrimental towards Villain's... redemption," Superhero pointed out, unconsciously chewing at his lip.

"We aren't a redemption center, Superhero," Hero said quietly, almost a whisper. "Let me see Villain or-" Hero grabbed the papers and proceeded to rip them "- these aren't your's."

Superhero rushed forward, putting his hands on top of Hero's and slid the papers back towards him. He gave a tiny smile and consented to her request.

They walked down the corridor and then down a couple flight of stairs until they reached a steel door with three locks- all with different keys. Hero watched with a stoned expression, thinking about what would happen if one of those keys were unfortunately lost...

"He's in here," Superhero spoke, dancing on his feet.

Hero stepped into the dark room, recognizing the detention cell that she helped invent, and flipped on the lights.

In the corner of the capacious cell, was a huddled figure. His back was towards her, legs spread out. With a pang in her chest, Hero walked up to him.

"V-villain," Hero breathed and crouched next to the figure. Villain whimpered and pulled himself deeper into himself, but his legs didn't seem to be connected to his brain.

Hero gently rolled Villain's head up to face her and nearly gasped when she took in the sight. He looked like a sick, stray cat. Mucus drained out of his nose as vomit spewed out from the corner of his mouth. His half-lidded eyes were bloodshot and had deep eyebags underneath with dried blood coating his cheeks. He had multiple, nasty cold sores all around his lips- or were they infected cuts? Maybe both.

"Why is he in this state?" Hero asked, astounded. This violated so many regulations and rules- the prison could be shut down, many heroes arrested or fined.

Superhero didn't respond. Instead, he appeared at Hero's side and crouched down next to Villain. The villain who didn't even seem to be aware of their presences.

Hero grabbed one of the wrists that were so protectively cuddled next to Villain's chest. He whimpered, trying to resist Hero's touch.

"No," he mumbled. "No no no no. Don't give... m-more... that mm stop." Villain started to breath heavily, his already fast pulse speeding up. With a heavy heart, Hero knew without even looking that he was drugged badly.

"Superhero... why?" Hero squeaked, turning over a wrist to see them heavily bruised and still bleeding from his most recent dose.

Villain started thrashing, but his legs wouldn't move.

"Why can't he move?" Hero asked, running a hand along Villain's shoulder. "Why can't he move his legs?!"

Superhero inhaled deeply then said, "He's very sick, uh... he probably has some sort of infection that makes it hard for him to move his lower body. Maybe, I don't really know."

"You don't even know what's wrong with your prisoner," Hero scoffed in disbelief, dragging Villain's limp body into her lap. She tried not to notice the wetness seeping into her jeans. It would only infuriate her that such a sick person would be kept in a wet and cold cell on top of being drugged daily without any medicines to help kick his fever.

"He's sick."

Obviously.

"I'm taking him home," Hero said, and scooped his way too light form up. His legs dangled uselessly, head falling off towards the side.

"That's illegal," Superhero pointed out. "He is in our custody now."

"And where does our rules permit excessive use of sedatives," Hero said in the same, authoritive tone. "Minimal use only to relax a distressed prisoner and only when necessary. Also, never to the point of unconsciousness." Hero gestured with her head towards Villain's closed eyes.

"And where do they permit us heroes to contain a villain on private property?" Superhero tutted. "Set him down and let me do my job."

"I'll call the authorities," Hero threatened, "and take you to court."

Superhero groaned and threw his hands in the air. That was not a risk he could take.

"Fine," he growled, storming out of the room, leaving Hero in silence other than the slow dripping from a leaky pipe.

She quickly tore off her fleece and wrapped Villain's shivering body up. His eyes fluttered open and he mumbled something incoherently, but that was all as his eyelids slipped closed once again.

Then, she carried his ragdoll-like body out of the prison, down those steps, and into her car.

She laid Villain's limp form on one of the backseats, propping his lolling head against the window and buckled him in. His arms hung lifeless at his sides, legs completely devoid of strength.

With a nervous whimper, Hero sped home.

At home, Hero took a warm washcloth and wiped off the dried blood and mucus to reveal unevenly toned skin underneath. She delicately picked the dry crust off his eyelashes and eyebrows. It was rock hard and the warm water wouldn't loosen it, so she was forced to pull on the tiny hairs. At least he wasn't conscious for the pinpoints of pain.

Hero suddered, thinking about what would happen when he did wake up. Surely, he would keep to his word and hurt her, beating her up for imprisoning him and then of course this newfound dilemma.

She looked down at his sleeping form and sighed. She had him elevated to make sure his airways stayed clear, but his head kept falling to the side and onto the backrest of her daybed. His lips quivered, forming soundless words and pleas.

Hero gently touched his forehead, retreating at the burning heat. His eyes slowly blinked open at the contact, he moaned, and then they rolled back again and closed.

Hero sat next to him for rest of the day, worriedly anticipating his attitude upon awakening. However, as the hours went on and Villain didn't seem to be regaining consciousness too much, Hero realized that they would be in for a roughly long time.

Villain was probably drugged like that the moment he entered that building and judging by his health and state of his wrists, Hero also guessed that there was no care whatsoever during the admission or the aftercare.

Hero ran her fingers over Villain's pale cheeks. His mouth was parted open and he snored slightly from the congestion. Tears leaked from his eyes, irritating the tender skin below. Hero went and grabbed some lotion, smearing the white cream over the red rashes.

Villain jerked away suddenly, curling into himself and protectively guarding his arms. His heavy breathing went shallower and quicker as tiny noises escaped his mouth. Hero sighed and stopped touching him; he was likely trapped in a nightmare.

Hours turned into days, and only then was Villain awake enough to be aware of Hero's looming presence.

Though, his reaction was not what Hero was expecting.

He screamed, shoving himself and his weak form to a corner of the bed and gathering his leaden limbs into a huddled mass of burning skin. He shrieked and sobbed, and watched Hero with wide, exhausted eyes.

"Leave me alone!" He yelled, pulling up the covers in a bade to protect himself. "Please."

Hero never once in her life felt so utterly useless.

She was, like Villain promised she would, paying for her actions.

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #superhero whumper #hero x villain #drugged villain #sick villain #unconscious whumpee #tw nightmares #smoking mention #delirium #forced sedation #threats #threatening #paralysis #heros and villains #captivity whump

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie.

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him. I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

Kind of want this adventure to be over.

Bruce Banner x Daughter!reader

Summary: You have finally found your father...just not the way you expected. You sort out your feelings and have some realizations about people in your life.

You felt sick.

You couldn’t believe it. There he was. Your father, the man who has been missing for four years.

He was here, being forced to slaughter people as a gladiator on a whole different planet.

So many questions were running through your mind. How did he get here? Why hasn’t he escaped? How long has he been the Hulk?

You watch as Thor attempts to talk to him, but... it was almost like Hulk...like the attention. You watch in horror as Hulk charged at Thor. Throwing him into the wall. Both you and Loki looked at each other in concern, then glance at the Grandmaster who watched in glee.

You felt dizzy as you watched you father pummel his teammate. It was like he didn’t recognize him. He fought viscously. You cringed when you saw him slam Thor on the floor.

“YES!” Loki shouts, startling you and the Grandmaster, “THATS HOW IT FEELS!”

You both stare at him, alarmed at the sudden outburst.

“I’m just a big fan of the sport...” He chuckles awkwardly.

He sits back down and looks at you. Concerned as you looked grey, like you were going to be sick.

He strokes your back comfortly, “ Y/n, if you need to step out...”

“I can’t...I have to stay...” You whisper, watching Thor get beat by the Hulk. You prayed that he would get up. Then it happened.

A bolt of lighting shot the Hulk off of Thor. Then he rises, lighting engulfing his hands. The two charge at each other, and Thor starts to gain the upper hand. You breath a sigh of relief. The audience eats it up. Chanting “Thunder”, but the Grandmaster does not seem happy. Just as Thor was about to finish the fight, he was stunned by something, leaving him motionless on the ground.

You freeze, watching as your father leaped into the air and came down, smashing Thor into the ground and knocking him out. Finishing the match. You turn to see the Grandmaster lean back in pleasure.

“So, how do you like it?” He asks casually.

You can barely speak. Too shook up to even form a thought. Seeing your unease Loki spoke for you.

“It was very intense. A very entertaining fight indeed.” He says with a smile.

“What’s wrong with the kid?” the Grandmaster asks taking in your pale face. “ She does not look good.”

“Yes! Well, um, it seems as though she has eaten something that made her sick. Perhaps it was the jar jar fruit”

“Oh no,” The Grandmaster states, “This is terrible.”

“Yes well--”

“I had a whole bowl!”

“Yes...I’d better take her to her room. Rest shall do her some good.”

Then Loki rises and helps you to your feet. He leads you through the crowds of people.

You can barely walk. You don’t know why you’re reacting like this. You knew your father was here.

Maybe it was because of how gruesome this fight could have been. Or maybe because you knew that for four years, your dad has been trapped as the Hulk, murdering aliens as a gladiator for some old lunatic. And it seemed like he liked it.

Your legs grow weak and you nearly topple to the ground.

“Woah, easy.” Loki says, “ Darling, take it slow.”

“I- I think I’m going to throw up” And then you lean over, throwing up into a plant.

“Ew.” Loki says, watching you defile that poor plant.

You wipe your mouth and try to stand, you sway a but, almost falling to the ground. Loki then sighs and scoops you up.

Your face burns, “ I’m sorry...”

“Shut up. I shouldn’t have made you go anyways.”

You stay silent. Resting your head on his chest as he walks you to your room.

“You know...my dad never did this...” You whisper. Loki looks down at you in confusion.

“Did what?”

“ Carry me to my room. Especially if I was sick.”

“Oh..” Loki says, not really knowing how to respond.

“My mom was the one who did all that. But then...she got sick and...” You trail off. It was rare when you thought about your mom. It hurt to remember all the good times the three of you had, so like your father, you pushed it all down.

“My mother did that too..” Loki muttered. He walked into your room and set you on the bed.

“Get changed and lay down. I shall be back in a moment.” Then he walks out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You change clothes and ay down. Trying to wrap your head around what just happened.

Your father was here. You found him.

But he was the Hulk and basically a gladiator.

He’s been here for four years. Killing people for sport.

“God, I may have seen some weird shit living with the Avengers but this really takes the cake”, You think to yourself, shifting under the covers. You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling. After a few moments you heard the door open. It was Loki holding a tray of food.

“Here, this should make you feel better.” He says placing the tray in your lap. It consisted of a plate of some kind of soup, some cracker like snack, and a glass of water.

“I know it looks heavy, but it made me feel better when I was a child and ill. Although, the one made by the cooks back home may have tasted better.” Loki rambles, “I do think I did pretty well, considering the circumstances.”

Seeing this side of Loki was shocking. Sure, you both had your moments and you knew he cared about you, but you thought it was more like a forced partnership. But, he could have left you here alone and he didn’t. He went out of way to make you something so you’d feel better. You can feel your eyes water.

And for the first time since you’ve been on Sakaar, you cried. You cried because you haven’t seen your father for four years. You cried because you were on a completely different planet, millions of light years away from your home. You cried because Loki was being so kind.

You cried cause you were scared. You felt like you were in over your head, like you can’t do anything but wait. You have no idea what you’re going to do from here on out and it terrifies you.

Then you feel a cold hand on your shoulder. You look up to see sad green eyes. Then you’re pulled into a hug.

“I know.” Loki says softly, “It is overwhelming, and you’re still a child.”

You take a deep breath, taking in the scent of leather and something sweet. You then closed your eyes sinking into the embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In another part of the castle, Thor had just woken up. Scaring the crap out of the women who were tending to his wounds.

He painfully stands up, looking around the room he was in. It wasn’t like the first cell he was in. No, this one was actually clean. It didn’t smell like body fluids or...death. It was red and white, with weapons and armor laying around. He can see a large bed and a hot tub in the room.

Thor looks out the window, taking in the scenery and trying to figure out a way to escape. He’s startled out of his thoughts by a splash. He turns to see the Hulk in the tub, sitting in the shadows.

“...Are we cool?” He asks, holding his hands up in surrender.

He doesn’t get a response, just a low growl. But he isn’t attacked so Thor takes it as a a sign. He goes to the window again and mutters to himself, “Huh, a Hulk in a hot tub.”

Then he turns to Hulk, “ How long have you been like that?

“Like what?” Hulk grunts

“Like this. Big, green, and...stupid”

Hulk sits up slightly, half of his face in the shadows, “Hulk always Hulk.”

Thor doesn’t respond, opting to look out the window again, then he realizes,

“How’d you get here?”

“Winning” Hulk says proudly.

Thor rolls his eyes, “ Do you mean cheating? Did they have one of these shocky things on their necks? I meant, how did you arrive here.”

Hulk imitates a whooshing and crashing noise, “Quinjet.”

Thor gets excited, “ Yes! Okay and where is the quinjet now?”

Hulk doesn’t respond, instead he gets out of the tub. The only problem is that he didn’t have a towel...or anything to cover himself. Giving Thor a good look at his goods.

“That’s naked...very naked” Thor says cringing. “ That’s in my brain now.”

“Quinjet.” Hulk says, pointing to where the plane is. Uncaring about the state of undress he was in.

Thor gets excited again, “Yes! I can get us home, off of this awful planet. You’ll love Asgard! It’s like earth but gold”

“Hulk stays.” Hulk grunts, taking a bit out of some fruit.

“What? No no no, I need your help to prevent Ragnarok.” Thor says desperately.

“Ragnarok?” Hulk questions uncaringly.

“Yes, its the destruction of my home planet, the end of times.”

“Thor go. Hulk stay.” Hulk says stubbornly.

Thor is desperate. He needs to get home before Hela completely destroys everything he holds dear.

‘Look, I’ll tell you what, you help be get to Asgard, and I’ll help you get back to earth.’

“ Earth hate Hulk.”

“What?” Thor exclaims, “ Everyone loves Hulk! You’re part of the team, you’re our friend!”

“Banner’s friend.” Hulk grunts, not believing a word Thor is saying.

“WHat? I don’t even prefer Banner” Thor says awkwardly, “ He’s all ‘ NUmbErs aND SCienCe’ and stuff.”

“Banners friend!” Hulk exclaims.

By now Thor is frustrated, “Fine. You stay here on this awful planet. Besides this room his hideous. The red and white, like just pick a color.”

“Smash you.” Hulk grunts

“You didn’t smash me, I won that fight.”

“Smash you!” Hulk throws the fruit at Thor.

Thor dodges it calling Hulk a baby. He heads toward the entrance that is left open.

“Thor go!” Hulk shouts.

“I am going!” Thor shouts back, but before he can step out of the room he’s shocked. The obedience puck stunning him

As he falls to the ground, he can hear Hulk laugh.

“Thor no go. Thor home.”

He sighs, looking out the window. He briefly hears Hulk say something about training. Then he sees her. The woman who got him into this mess in the first place.

She pays no mind to him, instead greeting Hulk like they were long time friends.

They go train, leaving Thor alone with his thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up in the dark room. It seems that Loki has left as you were alone. Your eyes sore from crying, you look around for your bag. You find it, pulling out your phone, earbuds, and journal.

You write your feelings as you listen to music.

You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to go find your father and Thor, but another part trusts Loki and wants to stay. It doesn’t help that he has been the most fatherly figure you’ve had in a while.

Sure you had the Avengers. You could even argue that Tony has filled that role of father figure since your dad went missing. But, you and Loki formed a tight bond in a few days that took months for you and Tony to form. You both got along well, bonding over distant fathers, dead mothers, and theater. Not to mention you both had a sarcastic attitude. If anything, he’s taken over a big brother role, but nevertheless; betraying his trust was one thing that you couldn’t do.

You sigh, knowing what you were going to do.

You were going to find your father.

So you get out of bed and change into your suit. You put your phone in your stuff in your bag and grab your weapons.

You walk down the hallways, not knowing where to begin to find your father. Then an idea hits you. If you can find out where Thor is, you’d most likely find out where your dad is. So with that in mind you decided to ask a guard.

“Excuse me.” You say to a red guard, “ Do you know where the …”Lord of Thunder” is staying? The Grandmaster allowed me to go and meet him. I am a big fan”

The guard hesitated, not knowing who you were. But since you dropped the Grandmasters name, he pointed you to the hallway Thor was supposedly in.

“Thank you!” You beamed, making sure to skip away as if you were a fan. You skip till you were out of sight and sigh, slowing down to a walk. You strolled down the hallways, throwing fake smiles at the guards you passed.

Finally, you reached a room at the end of the hallway. You notice a woman pass you and walk staright into the room. You hide behind a wall and listen to the conversation.

“Hey big guy!” She says, you notice that she has an accent similar to Thor’s.

“Angry girl!” another voice says...Your fathers voice. You can hear footsteps coming your way. You quickly pull out your phone and sit down, hoping they’ll walk right past you. You don’t need Hulk seeing you right now. If anything, he’d change back to Bruce and that’ll cause a whole bunch of problems.

Thankfully, they pay no mind to you. You watch as they joke around and nudge each other. It’s strange, seeing the Hulk to at ease with another person.

It kind of hurts, in the same way it hurt to see your dad with Natasha. It was like you couldn’t get close to either side of him. Or he chose not to get close to you.

Pushing away your feelings, you get back to the mission, finding Thor.

You head to the room at the end of the hallway. Surprisingly, there were no guards or even a door blocking your way. You can see Thor, standing by the window. His back was turned to you but he was completely still.

You walk through the door way, and look around the room. It was messy and kinda ugly. The red and white really didn’t clash well.

Then you were startled by Thor loudly gasping. You run up to where he was.

“Thor? Thor are you alright?”

He focuses on you, eyes widening at your presence.

“Y/n?” He says slowly, “ Y/n?! What are you doing here?”

“The Dr. Wizard said my dad was here. So I came looking for him...” You say slowly. “ Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.” Thor laughs, “ Have...have you been here this whole time?”

“Yeah, I got here the same day Loki did, so about two weeks ago. Since then I--”

“Wait, have you been with Loki this whole time?” Thor asks.

“Yeah, he’s the reason I’m still alive to be honest.” You say, “ He helped me get in favor of the Grandmaster and he’s been looking out for me ever since.”

“Loki?” Thor says in disbelief, “ My brother, Loki? He has been taking care of you?”

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it either...but he’s been so kind to me, Thor. Kinder than anyone has been in a while.” You say softly.

Thor smiled, he was glad that there was still a part of the Loki he knew growing up. That you were alright.

“You look awesome.” He says taking in your outfit, “Where did you get those clothes?!”

You laugh, “ It seems like the Grandmaster likes to give make overs.” You look at Thor, “ Dude they cut your hair?!”

“Yeah some creepy old man cut it off.” He says, suddenly he pulls you in for a hug. “ I am beyond glad to see you here.”

You blush and hug him back, “I’m glad you are okay.’

Then you frown, “ My...my dad...he’s here.”

Thor freezes, “ Oh Y/n I completely forgot..”

“It’s okay... he looks fine” You say bitterly, remembering how chummy he was with that girl.

“ He can’t know I am here.” You say quickly, “ If he does, he’ll change back and raise suspicion.”

“I need help to get out of here.” Thor says, “ Asgard is in danger.”

“Why don’t you just walk out the door?” You ask

“Because, this neck thingy shocks me whenever I try to leave.” Thor says showing you his neck.

“Ohh so that’s why you lost the fight,” You say realizing what happened.

“I dis not lose” Thor said, “Your father cheated.”

You snicker, “What ever you say Lord of Thunder.”

Thor sighs at the name, knowing that you weren’t going to stop calling him that.

“Y/n, I need you to help me get out.” Thor says desperately. You furrow your brow, thinking of a way to get him out of here.

“Okay...I have an idea.”

You spend the next thirty minutes comin up with an idea. Revising and editing ideas that’ll get him out of here unscathed.

That’s when you realized that you shouldn’t be here when Hulk gets back.

“I have to go.” You say quickly, gathering all your stuff.

“Wait, wait, how are you going to escape...” Thor says worriedly. “ Your father doesn’t even know your here.”

You sigh sadly, “ I doubt he cares. He seems pretty content here.”

“Y/n, that’s Hulk, not Banner. Your father loves you.”

You chuckle, “ You know, in last few weeks. Loki showed he cared about me more than my father has in all the years I’ve been alive.”

“Oh...that’s bad.” Thor says, because if you knew Loki cared about you and not your father...that was saying a lot.

“Good luck Thor, I better go before some guards show up.” You say, patting his arm and dashing off. And again, Thor was alone.

Running through the hallways, you bump into someone. You fall to the ground in a huff.

“Watch where you’re walking!”

“Sorry dude, jeez don’t get your undies in a twist.” You say, getting up from the ground. You look up to see the girl who was with the Hulk.

“Do..do I know you? You look familiar.” She says, closely looking at your face.

“Umm, I tell stories to the Grandmaster.” You say quickly, “I better go.”

Then you run off again, leaving a confused Valkyrie behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You finally make it to your room. Panting as you close the door.

“Where have you been.”

You jump, not expecting anyone to be in your room.

“Relax, its just me.” Loki says, rolling his eyes, “ Now, where were you? I came back into your room, expecting to find you in bed, resting.”

“Sorry, I... I went to see Thor.” You say honestly.

“Y/n.” Loki starts, but you interrupt him.

“I know! I know I shouldn’t have gone, but I felt really bad and wanted to make sure he was okay.”

Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked at your face, seeing your guilty eyes and frown. He’s demeanor softened, “ You are too kind for your own good.”

You chuckled, “Well, one of us has to have redeemable qualities.”

“Hey!” Loki shouts offended. You laugh at his face.

“I can get used to this” You think to yourself. You yawn, suddenly tired from all your activities.

“Get some rest.” Loki says, “You’ll need it’”

Then he leaves the room after ruffling your hair.

As you get ready for bed and finally lay down, you realize you can’t sleep.

You have a crushing feeling that something big was going to happen the next day.

#bruce banner x daughter!reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner imagine #loki x reader #loki x teen!reader #loki x poc!reader #thor odison x reader #thor ragnarok #Thor Odinson #thor ragnorak #poc reader #marvel x reader #marvel

477 notes · View notes

tsukiihime · 3 years

Text

Heartbreak Chapter 4 (Shinsou x Fem!Reader, Bakugou X Fem!Reader)

I am on the fence if I should do an ending for each character, but I'll mull it over a bit more before making the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Drinking, Angst

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

This isn’t how you imagined you would be spending your weekend.

You’ve spent the night flipping through channels, ordering Chinese takeout as you sit cross-legged on Shinsou’s couch in your favorite tank top and shorts staring blankly at the television screen. You’ve kept your phone by you all this time in hopes of receiving a call that hasn’t come yet, and at this point you’re pretty sure it won’t come at all. You’ve been mulling over it for hours - do you call Bakugou? Let your pride take a backseat to your longing and put an end to your uncertainty? Or do you wait for him to break first?

‘Who am I kidding’, you scoff to yourself, ‘Bakugou doesn’t apologize or bow down to anyone. I’ll probably die before I get him to make the first move.’ You scratch your neck, looking out of the corner of your eye at your cell phone sitting inconspicuously on the coffee table. If you’re being honest with yourself, you want some form of closure with Bakugou. There’s so many unanswered questions between the two of you: Whose underwear was that in your shared bedroom? Are Bakugou and Camie romantically involved? Why did he call you that night?

You want - no, you need answers before you drive yourself crazy with what ifs - so you decide that tonight you’re going to take the plunge and call your ex-boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou.

At least that was the plan, but all you’ve been doing for the past thirty minutes has been nervously pacing back and forth in Shinsou’s bedroom. You pick up your phone only to throw it back down in anxiety - what if you make a fool out of yourself? What if he really did call you on accident and you’re just getting your hopes up?

It takes another thirty-four minutes before you’ve calmed your nerves enough to dial his number and not feel like vomiting. You decided against drinking some alcohol to get some liquid courage - you needed to be sober for this conversation as much as it pained you. The phone line on the other side rings, and you’ve never been more afraid of what’s going to happen next than you have been your entire life. You bite your lip in anticipation, pulling at the bottom of your shorts to distract you from what seems like endless ringing in your ear.

All too soon, the ringing stops and you are greeted with a rough ‘hello’. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

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

Bakugou feels like his soul has left his body when he sees your name flash across his screen - you’re calling him. He’s wished for this moment for weeks: every single missed call, unread text and late night thought about you has now culminated in this moment. You’re finally giving him a chance to speak to you and you’re even making the first move! But he feels a strange new emotion well up inside him as his finger hovers over the ‘answer’ button.

Hesitation.

It’s a new feeling to the Explosion Hero - he’s always been a doer and not a thinker, action before thought. He’s always thought of himself as the best, the cream of the crop in every aspect of his life. But the vibrating cherry red phone in his hand makes his confidence waver. He’s hesitating to answer you, even if he’s missed you for so long. That’s right: the great Katsuki Bakugou is afraid.

He’s afraid to answer the phone, to get his hopes up that you’re calling because you miss him, when you could be just calling him by accident. You probably meant to call Shinsou, or maybe you’re calling to say that you left something at his house and want it back.

But this fear is quickly dispelled - this may be his last chance to tell you how he feels. How he truly feels, without his agency or anyone else getting in the way. He now knows that Shinsou is in love with you and he still loves you with every fiber of his being - if he’s going to have a rival in romance he needs to put everything on the table. He needs you to know how he feels so that he can have no regrets, no matter what happens between the two of you in the future.

His train of thought is interrupted by his brain urging him to swipe right and answer the phone before the call is missed. Bakugou steadies himself, leans against the railing and puts his cell up to his ear. He answers gruffly: “Hello?”

“Hey Bakugou.” He takes notice of your use of his last name - he was expecting you to call him ‘Katsuki’, just as you’ve always done. His eyebrows knit together in disappointment.

“I don’t mean to call so late,” he can hear shuffling on your end, it sounds like you’re pacing around the house, “I know you’re always asleep at this time but I just had to do it before my nerves got the best of me.” You admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you smile to yourself softly. “I saw you called me around a week ago and I just wanted to see what you wanted? There was no voicemail or text, so I assumed that you maybe called by mistake? It’s okay if you did, I just wanted to double check you know?” You’re talking a mile a minute, rambling on and on as your nerves are set aflame by your embarrassment and fear. You’ve walked around Shinsou’s bedroom countless times, your heart racing in absolute dread at your decision. Why did you do this? Why did you call late at night? Why did you call him? You laugh uneasily, waiting for an answer and preparing for the worst.

“I called ‘cause I missed you.” You almost drop your phone in sheer shock, but you manage to compose yourself before your voice betrays your surprise.

You remain silent and he sucks in a breath, trying his best to calm himself down as he waits for you to answer. His palms won’t stop sweating, covering his cracked cell phone in glycerin laced sweat as he paces back and forth the rooftop from one end to the next. He feels like throwing up, and a small voice in his head urges him to hang up the phone before he makes more of a fool out of himself. But he stands his ground - he’s not leaving this call until you know how he feels. He hates opening up to others but you’re different, you’re special to him and by God he’s going to prove it to you.

“I’m sorry?” You ask for confirmation, not wanting to misunderstand. You hear a small ‘tch’ in response.

“Haaah? You not listening? I said,” he puts extra emphasis on the last part and he’s speaking so close to the phone that it’s almost like he’s next to you speaking directly into your ear, “that I missed you.” You both grow silent, listening to the sound of the other’s breathing for what seems like an eternity. The air is still rife with tension, but you smile - wide and beaming in total joy. Bakugou missed you. Just like you missed him. You feel comfortable being a little more familiar with him now that he’s confirmed for you that he’s not messing with you and you’re relieved that you’re able to keep your pride intact after you hang up the phone.

“I’m going to be perfectly honest. I wasn’t expecting that, Bakugou.” You give a small giggle and he smiles without realizing it. He’s missed your laugh, and he can imagine the way your nose crinkles slightly when you chuckle, how your eyes used to shine when he would make you laugh. “I’m surprised though - the great Katsuki Bakugou missing ‘lil ole me?”

“What, am I not allowed to be upfront ‘bout it? ‘M not gonna lie and say that I didn’t.” He huffs, slightly annoyed at your reaction. Your tone is teasing and half of him hates it while the other half is grateful for your reaction.

“I missed you too, Katsuki.” You say it, and it’s true. It comes out so naturally that it makes you smile with content. You do miss Bakugou. He closes his eyes and replays it in his mind.

‘I missed you too, Katsuki.’ He loves the way his name rolls off your tongue, sweet and soft just like he remembers. He can envision you lying next to him in bed, your legs entangled in the cream colored sheets as you drift in and out of sleep, running your fingers through flaxen spikes, his arms wrapped around your waist as he snores softly laying his head down on your chest. He’s indescribably happy that you missed him too.

“Look I-”

“So I wanted to-” You both speak at the same time, cutting the other off. You giggle softly. “You can go first Katsuki. Tell me: why have you been calling me?” He inhales deeply, preparing to pour his heart out to you under the starry sky. You lie back on Shinsou’s bed, the cool sheets meeting with your warm skin as you wait for the blonde man to answer.

“I wanted to hear your voice. I honestly thought you wouldn’t pick up or return my calls, so I was content with thinking I’d just hear your voicemail message. I had been trying to call you for days. I know you’re mad and you have every right to be, but I just...I want to talk to you. I want to talk about what happened, ‘bout us. I miss you,” he says without hesitation causing you to take in a breath in surprise, “so much. I didn’t think I’d miss someone like I miss you. I want to talk about what happened, what I did, and make it up to you. I want you back in my life, even if it’s not how we used to be before.”

You can hardly believe that you’re talking to Bakugou - prideful, arrogant, ruthless Bakugou who never opens his heart to anyone, not even you. He’s selfish in everything: with work, with love, and with you. He cares so much about being the number one Hero that it consumes him. You haven’t forgotten the cancelled dates when he stays in late at work to get another case wrapped up so it would boost his ratings, or the nights where you fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home when he would work late. Nor have you forgiven the days when you would cook him dinner only to find it untouched when you return home, or when he spends his days off training or hanging out with the Bakusquad rather than staying in with you.

But this Bakugou in front of you? He’s vulnerable, baring his heart and soul to you as he lets you know exactly how he feels. Instantly, the bad times leave your mind and you instead look back at all the good memories he’s given you over the two years you’ve known him: His amazing cooking on nights he wants to spoil you for working hard, the scent of caramel he leaves behind after he works out in the living room, the fierce kisses he left you with before he heads off to work. The way he lets you hold him gently, the way he lets you see him in his most unguarded state. The way he made you feel so loved, so cared for.

However, that doesn’t make you forget what he’s put you through the past month.

You still remember the way your heart shattered when you found that unknown lingerie set in your bedroom, and the way your heart ached when you saw Bakugou with his arm around Camie’s waist. Your grip tightens on your phone and you breathe in deep. You love Bakugou, but he needs to atone for what he’s done if he wants to be in your life again. You sit up on Shinsou’s bed, hugging your knees close to your chest.

“Listen Bakugou - I want to forgive you, I really do. But some of the things you did,” you feel a dull pang in your chest as you envision him holding another woman, “really hurt me. And it’s made me believe that I can’t trust you.” He grimaces, imagining how you must have looked seeing him at the award ceremony with another woman. He cards a hand through his blonde locks, scarlet eyes half lidded in disappointment. “But…” you trail off, and he perks up slightly.

“I don’t want to lose you. You’ve been a big part of my life, and I care about you. I’m willing to talk things out with you if you promise that you’ll take my concerns seriously, okay?” There’s no hesitation this time.

“I promise. Baby, I don’t want to lose you again.” Your eyes widen in shock, and Bakugou quickly coughs to distract you. “Er, sorry.” You giggle and he swells with pride at the noise, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“S’okay. I’ll let it slide this time since you’re so cute.” Bakugou is beside himself in a cocktail of emotions: are you flirting with him? You can’t help but tease him, imagining him turning beet red in embarrassment. Your heart leaps with happiness at how he calls you ‘baby’, but your pride and dignity stop you before you get ahead of yourself: Bakugou has much making up to you before you even think of jumping back into a relationship with him.

“But I think we should have this conversation in person, it’ll be easier. I’m gonna be pretty busy for the next few weeks or so, work and school’s been crazy and I’ve been looking for a new apartment.”

“Eye Bags told me you were looking for a new place to live.”

“Oh, you saw ‘Toshi? Hope he didn’t give you too much trouble. He can be a bit, ah, protective at times.” Katsuki scoffs to himself. ‘Yeah, he’s protective of you ‘cause he’s in love with you’ he thinks, but doesn’t say anything out loud. He may not exactly like Shinsou, but he’s not about to share his secret with you. “Anyways, how about I give you a call when I’m free? We can get together when I’m not swamped with responsibilities.”

“I’d like that.” This call has gone a lot better than he could’ve possibly hoped, and the promise of seeing you again, in person makes his heart soar. He can’t stop himself from beaming, happiness exuding from every pore.

“Alright then, it’s a date. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Have a good night Katsuki.” He gives his goodbyes and hangs up the phone, turning to overlook the cityscape. He can’t stop smiling - you’re really giving him a chance. He’s going to work his hardest to make you feel loved, to make up for everything he’s done and to win your heart again. He won’t lose.

He feels his phone vibrate in his hand, and it’s a message from you.

From: Y/N

Hey Katsuki! It was nice talking to you again. I’m glad we had this little talk...I think I’ll be free two weeks from now on that Friday. Can you meet me then? I’ll let you pick a place to eat, but it better not be too spicy or I won’t be able to eat anything. Let me know, okay?

He quickly responds.

To: Y/N

Got a place in mind. Has mild stuff too. I’m free that day, text me your new address and I’ll pick you up.

He sees the three dots appear and stops typing, waiting for your response.

From: Y/N

Sounds good! Make sure to drive safe kay? Last time I thought I was going to die being in the car with you.

Katsuki smiles as he types up a quick response and makes his way back to his friends downstairs - he spends the rest of the night texting you about anything and everything. He can’t wait to see you again.

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

Shinsou is so grateful that Todoroki is rich - he’s currently drowning in his sorrows at the bar in the luxurious apartment that Shoto calls home. He doesn’t want to see anyone else and he wants to go home, but home is where you are and he doesn’t want to see you either. How can he after coming to the realization he did tonight?

He’s in love with his best friend.

And not only is he in love with you, but he knows that you’re still in love with Bakugou. In his mind, he can’t hold a candle to the Explosion Hero - Bakugou is a high ranking, high paid Hero with legions of fans. He is good looking and even though Shinsou thinks his personality is ass, you seem to be perfectly fine with it. On the other hand, Shinsou is a relatively unknown moderately paid Hero with confidence issues. He hates this part of himself - you always tell him to be kinder to himself and to believe in his abilities but he just can’t help it. He feels so inadequate compared to Bakugou. How can he even think of confessing to you when he can’t even keep you happy?

‘What’s the point of telling her’ he thinks to himself ‘when she won’t ever see me as more than a friend?” The thorns of self doubt dig into Shinsou’s heart and mind. He would rather pine for you for eternity than lose you - you’ve always been there for him as his rock, his pillar of support. If he loses you, he crumbles. But at the same time, how can he live with this secret? Will he spend the rest of his life looking for you in other women, imagining it's your hands he’s holding, your lips he’s kissing, your body that is sleeping next to him in bed? Will he walk you down the aisle at your wedding to Bakugou, seeing how beautiful you look in your white gown while he wishes he could be your groom?

So here lies the dilemma of Hitoshi Shinsou: confess to his best friend that he is utterly head over heels in love with her and risk losing her all together or say nothing and watch her fall in love with someone else.

He doesn’t know what to do or think, and that’s why he downs shot after shot of tequila, feeling the burn of alcohol down his throat and the pleasurable buzz in his fingertips. His phone vibrates and he sees it’s a message from you.

From: Y/N

Hey ‘Toshi! Are you okay? Need me to come rescue you from social interaction yet? :)

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t want to hear from you or speak to you. You’ll just make his problem worse. A part of him fills up with anger - why can’t you tell that he’s in love with you? The things you two do together is way past the point of being friends: the cuddling, the forehead kisses, the hugs, the sleeping in the same bed - do you truly not see how he feels?

He knows it’s selfish of him to say, and it’s wrong of him to feel this way. You still see those actions as friendly because you’ve always been that way with Shinsou. He’s the one who has twisted it into something romantic, longing for you with every touch. Aching for your presence in his life, wondering what your lips would feel like on his. He responds back in resentment, alcohol fueling his discontent.

To: Y/N

Don’t need you to come. Staying night at Shoto’s. Don’t wait up.

The message is curt and short. He feels so incompetent - he loathes this feeling of not being good enough. ‘It’s no wonder she loves Bakugou - why would she love you? You have a villain’s quirk, a meager apartment, a moderate paycheck. Why would she choose you when she has a better option?’ He thinks to himself, self-hatred poisoning his mind. His phone dings, and as expected, you’re texting him back.

From: Y/N

What’s wrong ‘Toshi? You seem off thru text...are you okay?

To: Y/N

I told you, I’m fine. Leave me alone for the night, don’t wanna talk to you.

He sends his final message and sees you immediately start typing back - but he’s through with this conversation. He puts his phone on do not disturb and leaves it on the bar countertop, grabs his beer and makes his way to Izuku, Uraraka, Tsuyu and the others. As soon as he leaves, his phone flashes with a missed call from you.

#bnha x female reader #bnha x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x female reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #mha x reader #my writing

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 years

Text

Pinky promise

Steve Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: After the war, everyone returns home and tries to move on with life. Not you. You’re forced to go back to Brooklyn to take over your uncle’s bar with a constant reminder by your side that the man you loved didn’t come back to you. And her name is Sarah.

Pairing: Steve x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Brooklyn. It has been a long time since you’ve been there. Last time you were there Sarah Rogers told you it was too dangerous for a pregnant woman to stay around. She had a point. With most of the good men taken by the war, only the shady types remained. Scum will always find a way to get out of order.

You took Sarah’s advice back then. You left town and moved in with your brother on his farm. He got out of serving under a law that prevented all children from one family to be taken away. Their two older brothers were already fighting in the war so you and your brother were left.

But that didn’t matter, after all, you were carrying a child out of wedlock and you know how that goes. The child’s a bastard and the mother’s a whore but there’s no name for the man that left you like this. Sure, you could call him an asshole or whatever else you could think of but you don’t think of him like that. You could never think of him like that.

He was just a good man with a savior complex and a heart too big for his body. Besides, he didn’t know.

...

Either way, you promised yourself you’d never go back to Brooklyn in fear of bumping into him. What are you supposed to say when you see him? Hi, long time no see, this is your child, now go be a dad. That’d be mental.

But apparently you aren’t in faith’s favor. When your uncle died, you were told that you inherited his bar. The same bar you had spent endless nights at with your friends. The same bar you had gotten your first kiss in. The same bar where he told you he had to go. That thing is a scar and a half but you could never hate it.

You adored going there, working there, drinking there. It was a safe haven but now it’s old columns with bullet holes and blown out windows that need fixing. It ain’t all that bad. Some sanding and a new layer of paint oughta do it. You feel a tug at your hand. As you look down, you meet the most beautiful blue eyes with golden locks of hair. She looks so much like him.

‘Mommy, I don’t like this place.’ Her eyes are wide like a deer in the headlights, scared by all the cars and people on the streets. She’s used to the peace of your brother’s farm and you understand that the pace of the city might scare her. You kneel down next to her and put your hands on her shoulders so that she puts all her attention on you.

‘It’s just the marching band coming to play,’ you tell her in a calming voice with a comforting smile on your lips, ‘it’s just tubas and drums and loud noises. You’ll get used to it. I promise.’ You watch your little girl raise her pinky up to your face. ‘Pinky promise?’ You smile brighter as you hook your own pinky onto hers. ‘Pinky promise.’ She nods proudly as you stand up to take your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door for the both of you.

‘Y/n, is that you?’

‘Bloody hell, it’s her!’ You turn your head towards the commotion and see two girls barreling your way, almost jumping into your arms. ‘Jesus Christ woman, I missed you,’ the blonde one cries out. The brunette lets go first and smiles down at the little girl.

‘Bonnie, watch your language around the kid,’ the brunette snaps at the blonde.

‘Sorry Connie,’ she lets go of you and looks down at the kid. You put your hand on your daughter's shoulder to comfort her in meeting new people. These girls are far from strangers to you but she’s never seen them before.

‘Sweetheart, these are mommy’s friends,’ you explain to her, ‘that’s Bonnie and that’s Connie. Bonnie, Connie, this is my daughter, Sarah.’ Connie squads down to shakre the little girl’s hand with a wide smile on her face.

‘Very nice to meet you Sarah.’ Bonnie follows Connie’s movements and shakes Sarah’s hand next.

‘Yes, nice to meet you Sarah.’

‘Nice to meet you too,’ Sarah says with a shy smile but she quickly hides behind you as soon as the women get back up.

‘Goss, you’ve got your mother’s looks,’ Connie tells her, ‘that’s a good thing.’ Bonnie nods in agreement.

‘You’ve got a point there,’ she says, ‘so who’s the daddy?’ You look down at the ground for a second, feeling your stomach drop. Sarah looks up at you with hopeful eyes but opts to answering herself.

‘Daddy’s fighting bad guys,’ she proudly tells them.

‘That’s right sweetheart,’ you assure her with a weakened smile. You quickly unlock the door to the bar for her and she runs inside, excited to see what it looks like from the inside. ‘We shouldn’t talk about this outside,’ you tell the girls ‘people talk.’ They don’t ask questions about your nervous stature, they just follow.

‘Sweetheart, why don’t you go have a look upstairs,’ you tell Sarah as you hand her the key to the apartment above the bar. The apartment that’s yours now. The girl nods excitedly and runs up the stairs, more than happy to escape the unknown faces of the women that suddenly embraced her mother. A breath of relief escapes your lips as you watch her go.

Connie and Bonnie follow you into the main area of the bar. For a second, just a second, it feels like it used to on those Saturday nights when the boys would take you out dancing but you’d always end up here when the night got colder. Your uncle would always give you the first drink on the house and you’d always cheer him on for doing so. It’s a shame he’s gone so soon.

Without really thinking about it, you venture to the table in the corner where you’d usually sit with Bonnie and Connie and whoever else wanted to join. When you look down at the wood, you can still see your initials carved into it. A faint smile thugs on your lips when you run your fingers over them. It’s been too long.

‘Spill,’ Connie demands when you’re all seated. She sounds rougher than she intended to. You can tell by the way she flinches ever so slightly. She always had a way of sounding a little too harsh at the wrong moments but you know it’s never meant that way. It’s just her tone of voice.

‘I wasn’t going to come back,’ you admit with a meek smile, ‘too many memories.’

‘But you did. Why? It can’t just be the bar.’ She’s right. It never was just the bar. Though coming back might bring shame to you and Sarah, the hope of running into Sarah’s father was still there. Maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see him again.

Bonnie leans her elbows on the table in anticipation, her head resting in her palms. She looks like she’s going to hear the greatest love story ever told. If only it were that way. You hesitate to tell them why. What would they think of you if they knew before? The three of you never really did talk about children or marriage. But the truth will out one way or another and you’d rather have it out on your terms.

‘You know, you’d think with the world changing so much, we would’ve gone past calling a child a bastard but we really haven’t,’ you say as you feel your voice starts to shake, ‘poor girl deserves a dad and the dad deserves to know he’s got a child.’

‘Who is it,’ Bonnie pushes. You look up from the table with teary eyes. ‘Steve.’ It’s like the world stops for a second as the two women give each other a confused look. It’s like they can’t comprehend it. Steve, your best friend, got you pregnant.

‘Wait, skinny Steve or buff Steve,’ Connie asks you. Now it’s your turn to be confused.

‘Wha-what does that even mean? I guess skinny Steve. Was there another Steve around,’ you ask them. They share another look that means nothing to you but there’s concern in their eyes and you don’t know why. It worries you.

‘Did you have a TV on your brother’s farm?’

‘No, just a radio.’ Bonnie runs her hands through her hair and leans back in her chair, astounded by what you just said but it doesn’t give you any clearity.

‘Oh, you have to be joking,’ Connie exclaims, ‘you don’t know?’

‘Don’t know what? What should I know?’

‘Do you know who Captain America is?’

‘Yeah, he’s everywhere. Posters, toys, everything,’ you say as you let out a nervous chuckle, ‘what’s that got to do with Steve?’

‘Steve is Captain America.’

‘Okay, now you’re just talking nonsense,’ you say as you get up from your chair and walk over to the bar, seeing if it’s alright. The two chase after you quickly.

‘We’re not,’ Bonnie claims, ‘the man had some sort of experiment done on him or something.’

‘Steve is Captain America? You mean the man that couldn’t even talk to women properly?’

‘Says the one who got knocked up by him,’ Bonnie comments, earning her a slap on the arm from Connie. ‘Ouch,’ she whines, ‘I was just saying.’

‘Just because you didn’t like him doesn’t mean she didn’t,’ Connie hisses quietly to Bonnie to make her shut up. You can’t help but chuckle at the banter between the two. They basically share one brain cell and it always struck you as adorable when they seemed to be opposite sides of the brain.

‘But why’d you let me go on the double date back then,’ Bonnie asks you, knowing full well that Connie had asked you first because she had already expected something going on between Steve and you.

‘I had nothing to worry about,’ you tell her as a nostalgic grin pulls onto your lips, ‘besides, I didn’t want to have to explain why I wasn’t drinking.’ Bonnie gasps.

‘You already knew back then?’

‘Of course I knew,’ you sigh, ‘but it wasn’t a stable pregnancy yet and I just didn’t know things would change the way they did.’ Connie grabs a barstool off the ground and puts it down, taking a seat on it.

‘So why’d you leave,’ she asks.

‘When Steve left, I was worried I’d have to be on my own raising a child,’ you explain to them, ‘then his mother suggested going to my brother’s farm for a while.’ You hear the stairs creak as Sarah runs downstairs calling out to you. You call back to her to let her know where you are. When she runs into the bar, you can’t help but stare at her adoringly. She’s just so damn stunning. She runs up to you and jumps into your arms.

‘How do you like it,’ you ask her.

‘It’s great,’ she says with glowing eyes, ‘but there’s too much space for the two of us.’ Sarah had only ever lived on your brother’s farm where she had to share a room with you. She had never lived anywhere where she had her own room.

‘We’ll make it work,’ you promise her.

‘Well, we should get going,’ Connie announces, hooking her arm onto Bonnie’s to stop her from protesting, ‘but we’ll come around tomorrow to help you clean this place.

‘That would be wonderful,’ you smile at them as they take their leave. When the door closes, Sarah takes your hand in hers and looks at you with seriousness in her eyes that you had only ever seen before when Steve talked about enlisting and how important it was to him.

‘Mommy, it looks like there’s someone else living upstairs,’ she tells you.

‘Well, that’s because my uncle left his stuff here for us,’ you explain to her as you put her down, ‘let’s go lock the door and then you can show me around. Yeah?’ The girl’s eyes light up again as she nods excitedly. You can barely lock the door with her pulling at your arm.

Before you follow her up the stairs, you take one last look at the bar. The memories you’ve made there are as thick as the layers of dust on the furniture. You don’t like to admit it but you’re glad you’re back and you know now, with your little girl already being so excited, that you two are going to be just fine.

...

‘Y/n! We’re here!’ You jump up from behind the bar, quickly patting down your pants to rid them of dust as you walk towards the front door to greet Bonnie and Connie. Bonnie flies around your neck as she did yesterday.

‘Hi love,’ you greet her with a grin that goes from ear to ear, ‘how are you doing?’

‘We’re alright,’ Bonnie says with a mischievous look on her face as she steps aside to allow Connie to greet you.

‘We found an old friend on the way here,’ Connie tells you as she steps aside to reveal a face you haven’t seen in ages. Gosh, if it were any longer you might’ve not recognized him anymore. He looks withered but the smirk on his face is ever present as well as the cocky look in his eyes and confident stature.

‘Are my eyes deceiving me? James Buchanan Barnes, how are you doing?’ You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into a close embrace that he accepts gratefully. His arms snake around your waist as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

‘It’s been too long, doll,’ he says and puts his hands on your hips to distance you from him. Just so he can have a good look at you. ‘Jeez, you haven’t changed since ‘42. You look stunning.’

‘You’ve got a bit more stubble on your chin,’ you tease, ‘and a haircut would do you wonders.’ He snickers as he briefly tickles your sides. You cry out a laugh and take a few steps away, lightly jogging towards the bar knowing he’ll follow.

‘So, I hear you’re the owner of this place now,’ he says as he follows with big strides, walking around like it’s still his go-to bar. You watch him as he has a look around.

‘I am,’ you say with a proud smile, ‘my uncle left it to me.’

‘He couldn’t have left it in better hands,’ he grins at you as he stalks over to the corner table, having a look at the carved initials on it. ‘Wow, they’re still here.’ You walk over to him, watching him drag his fingers over his own initials next to yours and Steve’s.

‘They are.’

‘Where’s the little one,’ Connie asks you. Your eyes shoot over at her right as she realizes what she’s just said. Bucky doesn’t know. Her hands move in front of her mouth.

‘Little one?’ As if on que, you hear the stairs creak under the weight of Sarah’s rushed footsteps. She told you yesterday that she was excited to see your friends again, even if she had been scared of them initially. You let yourself drop into a chair and hide your face in your hands as she steps into the room. You don’t have to see Bucky’s face to know that he looks shocked. Sarah looks exactly like Steve, how could he not be shocked?

‘Mommy, who’s that?’ You look up from your hands and gesture for Sarah to get closer but she looks nervous and stays where she is.

‘It’s okay sweetheart,’ you tell her as you reach out to her. She walks over and takes your hand, hiding behind it slightly at the sight of yet another stranger. ‘Sarah, this is Bucky. Bucky is a friend of mine,’ you explain to her, ‘Connie, Bonnie, Bucky, and I would come here a lot together.’ You look up at Bucky, trying to keep eyes from poking in your eyes and failing terribly. ‘Bucky, this is Sarah. My daughter.’ Bucky nods and makes himself a bit smaller, holding out his hand to shake Sarah’s hand.

‘Nice to meet you Sarah.’

‘Nice to meet you too mister Bucky.’

‘Just Bucky is fine,’ he tells her with a friendly smile.

‘Sweetheart, why don’t you go show Bonnie and Connie where we live now,’ you suggest to her, ‘I’m sure they’d love to see the drawings you put up.’ That’s all it takes for the little girl to grab Bonnie and Connie by their skirts and drag them upstairs, leaving you and Bucky alone for a few minutes.

‘That girl looks exactly like Steve,’ he exclaims. You shoot up from your chair and hurriedly walk over to the bar.

‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’ You reach for a rag you had been cleaning with before your friends walked in, running it over the bar to take Bucky’s attention off you as your feel a lump form in your throat. However, Bucky doesn’t do well with being avoided. He grabs your wrist and takes the rag out of your hand, throwing it somewhere you can’t just reach.

‘I know you and Steve had a fling back in the day so I’m only going to ask this once. Is she Steve’s?’ He watches as your eyes fill with tears while you try to swallow away the lump in your throat. It’s as if all the hurt and hardships you’ve been through these past years while raising Sarah suddenly wash over you. You feel your shoulders start to shake as you take your bottom lip between your teeth to keep it from quivering. Bucky’s expression softens and he pulls you into a hug, gently rubbing your back until you calm down. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘His mother asked me not to,’ you softly stammer into his ear as a sob slips from your lips, ‘I thought he was going to stay.’

‘So did I doll, so did I.’ You push off him, holding both his shoulders to keep him away from you. There’s a pit in your stomach as you try to speak but the words don’t seem to be coming out quite right. It takes a few seconds before you manage to form a sentence.

‘You can’t tell him. Please don’t tell him,’ you hear yourself beg with a shaky voice. That’s not what you wanted to say. You want Steve to know but why can’t you do it?

‘I won’t, but there’s something you have to know,’ he tells you as he takes your hand and leads you back to the corner table. His hands take yours and his thumb gently drags over the back of your hand to keep you grounded. ‘Steve is seeing someone.’

He expected you to scream, or at least cry. But you just sit there, frozen, nodding ever so slightly to let him know you understand. Your feelings are on overdrive and at this point you’re not quite sure if you’re even feeling anything.

‘Mommy, are you okay?’ Your eyes dart over to Sarah’s. Your hands move to your eyes to wipe away your tears as you see Bonnie and Connie running into the room to grab the girl.

‘Mommy is fine,’ you tell her as she walks over to you. You pick her up and set her on your lap. ‘But sometimes even mommy has to cry.’

‘Please don’t.’ You push a smile onto your face to appease your little girl.

‘I’ll try not to,’ you tell her, ‘can you go upstairs with Bonnie and Connie a little longer? I have some boring adult things to discuss with Bucky.’ She nods and jumps off your lap, dragging Bonnie and Connie along like she had done mere minutes ago.

‘She is so much like Steve,’ you tell Bucky with a small smile on your face as your eyes linger on the empty staircase, ‘you know, on my brother’s farm she used to try to resolve fights between the animals.’

‘That does sound a lot like Steve,’ Bucky chuckles as he takes her hand again, ‘I hope she doesn’t fight as much as he does.’ You shake your head, a nostalgic look in your eyes. Oh how you remember all the times Bucky had to save Steve’s ass when he got into yet another fight. It got even worse when the two of you were fooling around and a man would look at you wrong. However, you did love him for it. Maybe you still do. You’re not sure.

‘I did want to tell him,’ you say, your voice surprisingly steady, ‘I was about to send him a letter when his mother told me it would be better if I left town.’

‘She told you to leave town?’ You nod.

‘Said it would be better for my safety and the baby and she was right,’ you admit, ‘but I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that I was keeping something from him.’

‘Do you want him to know?’ You nod again and look up at him with a smile.

‘You know, we didn’t have a TV so I didn’t know he was Captain America until Bonnie and Connie told me yesterday,’ you tell him, ‘but it makes sense.’

‘It does. He was always the best of us three.’ Bucky sounds proud as he says it, as he should be. Steve has always been a good man who doesn’t let his judgement be clouded by money and power.

‘She makes my life so much more meaningful,‘ you tell Bucky proudly, ‘I know I never wanted to be a mother but she changed everything. It’s like she’s got all Steve’s good parts but it hurts that she has to withstand name calling just because she doesn’t have a dad. She doesn’t deserve that.’ You look past Bucky onto the busy streets, watching as people walk by. Children are playing on the streets, women are going to the shops, men are reading the paper and smoking, and families... Happy, complete, families walk the sidewalks with smiles on their faces. They don’t have to worry about what others think of them. You wish it was like that for Sarah.

‘Do you want them to meet?’

‘I do but it isn’t fair to either of them to just put them in a room together,’ you tell Bucky, ‘I’d have to face Steve on my own first.’

‘That’s fair, do you want me to bring him around sometime?’ You continue to stare out the window as your eye suddenly fall on someone. You feel like all color is draining from your face. No, this can’t be real. Not right now. ‘Doll?’ You nod towards the window. Bucky turns around to see Steve standing right there, looking in with a grin on his face, happily waving at you. Of course, that would just be your luck. Bucky turns back to you.

‘I can send him away if you need more time.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to face him sometime,’ you say with a meek smile. It wipes away when you flinch from the loud bang of the front door slamming against the wall. Steve runs into the room, still wearing a grin on his face.

‘Y/n?’ You get up from your chair to greet him.

‘Hi Steve, good to see you.’ In his excitement, he runs up to you and engulfs you in a hug like you’ve never shared before. He’s so much bigger than you now. It’s almost suffocating but that could also be the nerves. However, the feeling is familiar as is his smell. It’s comforting and warm. Your arms wrap around his waist to hold him close. You’re not sure if you ever want him to let you go but he steps back after a hug that lasts a little too long.

’Jeez, you’re still as beautiful as when I left,’ he smiles.

‘And I thought you were done growing when you left,’ you try to joke, pushing your anxiety aside.

‘I thought so too,’ he says and turns to Bucky to quickly shake his hand in greeting. ‘Did you know she was back?’

‘No, I ran into Bonnie and Connie today. They found out she was back yesterday,’ Bucky tells him. ‘They’re around here somewhere to help clean the bar.’ Steve nods at Bucky’s blatant lie but he doesn’t seem to notice.

‘So, you’re running your uncle’s bar now?’ You nod but Steve can tell that you’re nervous. Your eyes are still red and puffy and he saw you cry when he looked through the window. ‘Are you okay?’ You nod, averting your eyes from him.

‘Sit down, we have to talk,’ you say as you sit back down. He looks confused as he sits down next to Bucky in his usual place. It’s a strange sight. He doesn’t fit into the picture anymore. He’s gotten too big.

‘What is it?’ You take a deep breath.

‘Listen, I can keep running around this but that wouldn’t be fair to you-’

‘You’re making me nervous Y/n.’ His eyes shoot to Bucky but he isn’t giving him anything. In fact, he’s leaning back to show to Steve that this is something between the two of you. He’s just there for moral support.

‘You have a child.’ His jaw drops as he scrambles to find the words to say.

‘I’m sorry, I have a what now?’ Bucky leans forward and hits Steve’s arm.

‘You heard her,’ he snaps, ‘Jesus, don’t you see how much this is taking out of her?’

‘It’s fine Bucky,’ you assure him.

‘Did you know,’ Steve asks Bucky and you feel the situation slipping from your fingers.

‘No, I didn’t know but it isn’t my child.’

‘Stop it,’ you snap. The men look back at you and their faces drop as they watch tears slip onto your cheeks. You grab Steve’s hand from the table. ‘Yes, you have a child. Her name is Sarah Josephine Y/l/n. I couldn’t call her Rogers because we’re not married but I thought you’d like that name for her.’

‘I do, but why am I only hearing this now,’ he asks, obviously confused and stressed. Suddenly, there is the weight of being a runaway dad on his shoulders. Even if he didn’t know about the child’s existence up until now, he still doesn’t like it.

‘Your mother asked me to move away from the city for the safety of the child,’ you explain to him, ‘and I didn’t know how to reach you. I mean, damn, I didn’t even know you changed this much.’ Steve stays quiet for a while, looking at his hand in yours as your thumb gently strokes over his skin. Your hands had always been smaller than his and he always liked how they looked next to his but for some reason he feels strange because of your touch.

‘Can I see her?’ You look from Steve to Bucky, your eyes carry worry as you wipe away your tears.

‘I don’t know. She’s already met so many new people today, it might-’ Steve squeezes your hand gently and looks up at you with hopeful eyes. Eyes that she has never been able to say no to.

‘Please?’ You sigh, taking a second to collect yourself. Why did it have to be him?

‘I just need to know one thing,’ you state, not daring to look into his eyes, ‘I know you’re dating someone but if I let you meet her, will you stay in her life? Because I can’t introduce her to her dad and then tell her that she never gets to see him again. It would break her heart.’ His hand gently slips under her chin, pushing her head up slightly so she’s looking at him.

‘I promise.’ You take a deep breath and let go of his hand as you put your pinky up.

‘Pinky promise?’ A smile spreads on his face as he hooks his pinky onto hers like he had done a thousand times before. When he promised to pick her up from somewhere, when he promised he’d stay loyal to her when going out with Bucky, when he promised he’d come back to her after the war. That last one is the only one he hadn’t made true yet.

‘Pinky promise.’ You nod, a small smile on your lips as your pinky slips from his. He watches as you walk over to the staircase and disappear for a little. When you reappear, you’re carrying a little girl. Eyes as blue as his, golden locks draping over her shoulders, and a tiny stature.

‘Sarah, I want you to meet someone,’ you tell your daughter with a gentle smile, ‘this is Steve Rogers.’ You put her down in the middle of the bar, letting her choose what to do. You watch as her eyes widen at the sight of Steve. She knows of Steve Rogers. You told her about him.

As his eyes meet those of Sarah, he gets up from his chair so fast the thing falls onto the floor, scaring Sarah into hiding behind you. His eyes fill with hurt as he watches her hide and he gets on his knees to be more on eye level with Sarah.

‘But mommy, he isn’t scrawny at all.’ You let out a laugh and kneel down next to her, putting your hand on her shoulder.

‘Scrawny? Really?’ Steve bellows a soft laugh as you shrug.

‘He was really scrawny when he was younger,’ you reassure Sarah, ‘he just got bigger.’ She wraps her hands around your arm for security as she looks at him.

‘Are you so big from fighting bad guys?’ You nod vigorously at Steve in hopes that he gets the hints.

‘Yes,’ he says with a gentle smile. That seems to put Sarah’s nerves at ease a little. She takes a step away from her and a step closer to Steve.

‘Are you a soldier?’

‘I’m a captain,’ he tells her proudly. Sarah nods, pretending to understand him as she takes another step closer.

‘Are you going to stay? Because mommy told me you weren’t with us because you had to fight bad guys in the war.’

‘Well, the war is over,’ he tells her as he peeks past Sarah at you, ‘so I think I’ll stick around a while.’ Sarah takes the last few steps towards him and puts her pinky up to him.

‘Pinky promise?’ He smiles at her and hooks her pinky onto hers, marveling at the size difference of their hands. That’s his daughter. His little girl. And just behind her is her mother. You, the amazing woman that he admired from the second he laid eyes on you.

There’s nothing in this wide, wide world that could keep him away from the two of you. And as he looks back at you and watches a tear slip onto your cheek again, he knows you know too.

‘Pinky promise.’

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (1)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

Inspired by Unforeseen Mayhem by Aerugonian

Here is their tumblr (all their work is so good)

(NEXT)

...

Kakashi thinks he might have died. He remembers the flash of steel and Obito’s face or maybe it had been Madara. His memory of the events leading up to the attack are hazy after receiving one too many hits to the head. What he does remember is the slowly spinning, hypnotic red of a Sharingan, and the quick build-up then explosion of chakra.

Then there was excruciating pain in his left eye and…darkness…

…

Kakashi opens his remaining, usable eye to gaze up at tall angled structures that stretch into a grey overcast sky. He can’t feel the left side of his face, his limbs are numb and unresponsive, and there is the damp of blood soaking through his hair. The bone-deep ache of chakra exhaustion is so all-encompassing that he can barely lift his hand let alone stop the bleeding. Around him, there are several people yelling in shock and surprise. Civilians he vaguely notes as he clings to consciousness. There is no sign of Madera, Obito or any of Kakashi’s allies for that matter.

When his vision dims for a second time he thinks that this, this would be his last breath. Alone, severely injured, in a foreign location and with only civilians as help? It was a death sentence.

He is wrong in the end.

…

Kakashi wakes up in a strange hospital bed surrounded by the strangest people he has ever seen. He also wakes up covered in bandages, his more serious injures either treated or in various stages of recovery.

The air is dry with a distinct lack of chakra. It is something he would usually only see in a prison cell made to contain dangerous shinobi in which chakra draining fuinjutsu arrays were applied to the walls and floor. There are no fuinjutsu arrays here. This is not a prison cell. For one, there is a large window. Secondly, there is a constant stream of doctors, nurses and other patients moving in, out and around the building. Finally, the door to the room is not locked. It doesn’t even have a lock.

After memorising the comings and goings of the people working in the strange hospital, he takes some time to scout. Even while injured and drained of chakra, he has enough skill and experience to avoid the workers and other sickly people he shares his room with.

The world outside his window is one of cement, concrete and brick, with tall imposing structures covered in reflective glass standing higher than any building he has seen before. The closest point of comparison he has are the buildings in the Hidden-Rain and Stone villages but even those are a loose approximation. The hospital is both similar to Konoha’s main hospital, abet a lot bigger and full of strange equipment and technology. The people, despite their lack of chakra, display odd and inconstant abilities, techniques and physical deformities. One of the doctors has a lizard tail and he catches a glimpse of a man with a wooden block for a head. He sees a woman heal a cut with a simple hand wave. Either he is in an unusually elaborate and detailed genjutsu or he is very far away from Kohoha.

Everything is so odd and strange that he is well and truly stumped, leaving him with nothing else to do but quickly return to his hospital room. At least the weird chakra-less people are non-hostiles and willing to provide much needed medical attention. Though he is, as of yet, uncertain about the purpose or motive behind said medical attention seeing as he was a complete unknown to them.

After some consideration, Kakashi decides to wait. He has no idea how he ended up in the place aside from a loose theory that involved his still healing Kamui Sharingan. Additionally, there was no use trying to get back home with stab wounds, his leg broken, his ribs cracked, his shoulder muscles torn and his chakra levels so pathetically low that he’d probably kill himself if he tried.

He takes solace in the fact that his presence, while probably missed to some extent- he likes to think so anyway- wouldn’t impact the outcome of any major conflict. With Naruto’s stubbornness and Sakura’s tenacity, home would be waiting for him, even if he took a bit of time getting there.

…

After a week of information gathering -ie pretending to be unconscious and listening to conversations- Kakashi concludes that the people operating the hospital are relatively harmless. They seem to be under the mistaken impression that Kakashi is a citizen of their village and thus automatically entitled to medical attention. This is despite his lack of identification or history with the place. Such a thing would never happen in Konoha as even civilians were carefully monitored and tracked. Without identification or relatives/friends to vouch for them, a civilian would more likely be thrown out of the village than given what was surely resource-consuming medical treatment. It is lucky for him that there are apparently so many civilians in this village that their shinobi-equivalent forces couldn’t properly keep track of them all. Another point in favour of it not being any sort of hidden-village or any place he was familiar with.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Says the greying, middle-aged man in a white coat as he approaches Kakashi's bed, “You’re finally awake. How do you feel.”

“Ah…a bit tired,” Kakashi plasters on a confused smile, raising his undamaged hand to rub the back of his head, hunching his shoulders for good measure. The perfect image of a disoriented patient.

“What happened? Where am I?”

There was only so much he could achieve be pretending to be unconscious and snooping around at night. It was time to get a real feel for residents of this strange place and figure out his next move. This meant integrating into the local culture.

“No need to worry. You’re in Hosu General Hospital and you’re well on your way to recovery,” A nod and the doctor moves forward to stand beside his bed, “A little drowsiness is a normal side effect of the pain medication we have you on. Now, if I may have your name?”

“Kakashi.” If they hadn’t recognised the Sharingan when they had bandaged it up, then they most likely wouldn’t recognise his name either.

“Well, Kakashi,” The man says with no hint of acknowledgement, “My name is Wada Yasutoki and I’m here to make sure you are recovering properly. Can you tell me if you are feeling any discomfort or pain at the moment?”

“Hmmm…my arm and leg?”

“Would you be able to rate it on a scale of 1 to 10?”

Kakashi thinks for a second and shrugs, “3.” Honestly, he only notices the pain when he’s consciously paying attention.

Another nod and Doctor Wada fusses about, examining the bandages around his shoulder and then his leg, “Well, they seem to be healing as well as any broken limb, maybe even a bit faster. And the stab wound near your chest is almost completely gone.” A thoughtful hum follows the statement. “If not for your left eye I would say you had a healing or regeneration quirk…hmmm…maybe a passive healing factor linked to your quirk…?” Wada looks to him, waiting for confirmation and Kakashi shrugs. From his nightly snooping he knows that ‘quirk’ is the term for the bloodline ability things the people here had.

The Doctor doesn’t press the matter instead asking, “Is there any discomfort in the left side of your face?”

“No.” Kakashi doesn’t want the people here touching his eye any more than necessary. The fact that it is draining charka at its usual sluggish rate was a sign that it was, at least, somewhat functional and that’s good enough for him. He guesses he should be thankful for landing in a place with medicine advanced enough to save it.

“You had us concerned when you didn’t wake after we saw to all your injuries,” The Doctor continues, “Your left eye took quite a bit of damage and we were worried that there might have been some sort of brain injury. If you feel dizzy, lightheaded or confused please, do not hesitate to call a nurse.”

The man shakes his head and sighs, “Now, I understand if you want a bit of space after going through such a traumatic event but if you could provide any details concerning the predicament that ended with you so badly injured it would be a great help to the investigation.”

Kakashi gives a faked confused hum and smiles apologetically, “Sorry Doctor Wada. I'm having trouble remembering much of anything really.”

“Nothing? No details about the potential assailant at all. What they look like? Their quirk?”

“No. Where is Hosu General Hospital by the way?”

His bland expression obviously causes his doctor some concern as he is subjected to a penlight being shone in his uncovered eye.

“It is located in Hosu City, a ward of Tokyo. Where is the last place you remember being?”

The names mean nothing to him. Kakashi schools his features into one of complete confusion, “I don’t remember.”

It’s not even a lie this time.

After the admission, Doctor Wada only grows more concerned and Kakashi is subjected to many reassurances that it is completely normal to forget a few things after a brain injury and that he shouldn’t worry himself too much. The level of comforting and reassuring is a bit much if he is being honest. Never before has he longed for the cold frowns of Konoha’s medic-nin.

“I’ll have to schedule you in for an MRI. If you’re having trouble recalling basic facts alongside your long-term memories, then there might a serious problem.” The older man finally concludes, having run through an extensive list of questions regarding Kakashi’s history all of which he answers with vague half-truths. Where did he grow up? Somewhere with a lot of trees. Did he have any close relatives? He thinks they might have died when he was little. What does he do for a living? Commission work. Did he have any colleagues? He doesn’t know where they are. So on and so forth.

“It’s a shame your ID and phone were missing when they found you. Stolen by the bastard who put you in this situation no doubt,” the Doctor sighs again, “We might have been able to track down your records. Oh well, we’ll do our best with what we have.”

Kakashi doesn’t speak, pretending to be deep in thought. Mentally, he pats himself on the back for an infiltration gone surprisingly well considering his lack of preparation and the flakiness of the ‘sorry I don’t remember my backstory’ excuse.

“I don’t suppose you remember anything about your quirk,” the doctor asks, “Ocular quirks can have odd effects on brain activity and ability to process information. It might give us a place to start.”

From what he had seen, ‘quirks’ tended to have a specific function but he is still trying to figure out their limits. All he knew for sure was that none of them used chakra.

“It’s called the Sharingan.” He offers to see what the doctor does with the information, “I don’t remember much else about it.”

“Hmmm, ‘copy wheel eye’…it’s a descriptive name at least. Maybe a quirk that deals with memorisation or information recall. I will see if I can find it on the Quirk Registry. Hopefully, that will be enough. ”

Kakashi nods loosely in agreement, filing away the fact that there was a Quirk Registry for later contemplation.

(NEXT)

#bnha #bnha fanfic #mha #hatake kakashi #hero killer arc #crossover fic #dimension travel AU #culture shock #boku no academia #naruto #kakashi headcanons

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houseofglass · 3 years

Text

Hmmm, this spn prequel seems to have ruffled a lot of different feathers. My dash has provided me with Jared hate, Jensen hate, confused tinhats, and even a splash of Cockles/Destiel opinions.

Here’s my take. Spoiler alert: unpopular opinions ahead. I’m not linking anything because I’m in the middle of an unprecedented heatwave and I don’t feel like finding all the sources. Do your own research. Or not. Whatever. I just want to get this all out as coherently as possible. Here we go:

From the beginning, Jensen has been a professional. He didn’t let the drama on Dark Angel get to him and he’s said that he actively avoided having that same drama on the set of spn. He’s known as One-Take-Ackles because he brings his A-game every time.

Jared liked to mess around on set. Take after take after take after take. There was reddit post about how the crew would be working 13 (?) hours to get everything set up and still had six hours of teardown to do and then bam! actors messing about and making the day longer. Like, just say your lines dude. Anyway. Jared liked wresting, getting others to break, and pranking. I think he even pranked Misha by ruining his car more than once. Not cool, IMO.

J2 had a massive fight on set in season two. I recall it being about Jared egging Jensen on to fight but Jensen just stared him down until Jared left the set. They made up and agreed to never do that again as it promotes a bad workplace. Keep your shit contained, kind of thing.

But Jared didn’t, not really. One incident in particular is the wrestling with Osric Chau. Osric is a trained fighter and Jared was apparently going to slam him into the concrete. I repeat, into concrete. Osric dislocated Jared’s shoulder as a result. Jared still didn’t back off and Osric dislocated it again, this time Jared needed surgery and rehab. The wrestling finally stopped.

In all of this, J2 became good friends. I, personally, believe they started messing around sexually right after they auditioned for the parts and then got serious early on. They lived together, and Jared had his first breakdown immediately before announcing his engagement to Gen.

J2 are a good match. Jensen grounds Jared and Jared helps Jensen to be more outgoing while ‘on’ outside the set. Jensen seemed reserved and shy before Jared and was more confident and comfortable with Jared by his side. Jared can spin almost out of control and Jensen helps keep his feet on the ground. They also have an energy that’s been described as lightning in a bottle.

Fast forward a whole bunch of years. They’re still on the same show but have other interests. Each of them ensures that the other has the spotlight in turn. When one has a project, the other is quiet on social media so the focus won’t be taken away. They tell each other everything, as evidenced early on when PR and managers tried to play one off the other. They simply didn’t allow that to happen. Nope. Instead, they stepped back so one could shine. Jared opens a bar and Jensen is supportive. Jensen opens a brewery and Jared is supportive.

During all of this, they still perform at cons for fans. For a while, near the end of spn, I noticed Jensen seemed to be drunk/drinking often. He had a flask while getting a tattoo, he was spotted with fans while drunk and kissed one, the Bad Idea Instagram post. This isn’t unusual. He’s an adult. He can drink. I just thought it odd that I was noticing it more and asked myself, was he always a frequent drinker and he just stopped hiding it or is it a result of the rise of cell phones and constant casual photos?

But then Jared was arrested. He was drunk. Not tipsy or having a good time. Drunk. He assaulted an employee. A lot of people said he was just a big puppy and he didn’t mean anything by it, but that didn’t sit well with me. By this point I’d heard too many stories about Jared being a bit of an asshole. Also, I don’t think Jared has depression. I think he has bipolar disorder. He’s had too many incidences of mania for me to believe it’s just depression. He feels emotions deeply, that’s obvious to me, but he also has emotional swings that remind me of my own bipolar disorder. Am I self-inserting? Maybe. But I know the signs and I see them in Jared. BTW, depression meds can bring on mania if you have bd. You need a different cocktail for bd, and you shouldn’t drink while on them.

By the time J2 announced the end of spn, Walker was already in the works. I knew something was up when I saw Jensen advertising himself at every opportunity. The whole King Bacchus thing and him showing up at after parties/events that are designed for networking kinda cemented this for me. I figured he was parading around looking for work and wondered why Jared wasn’t doing the same. Then Walker was announced.

Now, I admit, my timeline there might be a bit off. Maybe Walker was announced before Jensen was King, but my brain is melting and I can’t remember. Either way, I did note that Jared had plans for post-spn when Jensen didn’t.

The wives started getting involved. Gen is on Walker and Danneel is part of Chaos Productions. Me, being the tinhat that I am, thought this was to ensure the wives have an income and are tied to their husbands. From a non-tinhat pov, I can see their involvement as a natural, nepotism thing that happens.

Jared is doing well on Walker, or so I’ve heard. I haven’t watched the show. Jensen got a role on The Boys and is filming now. Cool. Cool cool cool. Both have acting gigs.

Then Jensen announced, on social media, right before the Walker finale, that there’ll be a spn prequel that’ll be narrated by Dean.

Right. Before. Walker. Let that sink in. All these years, J2 have always stepped aside for one another to ensure they have the spotlight in turn. But now Jensen is hogging it? Jensen is taking the focus off Walker and putting it on himself? Not cool man, not cool.

Also, there was no mention of Sam in the prequel. No mention of the other half of spn. Jared has said, publicly, that he’d drop anything to work on spn stuff, so he’s available. So why wasn’t he ‘in the know’ about this? How could Jensen have slipped this past him?

Jared was seen in Colorado during Jensen’s birthday, just before Jensen went to Toronto. So they’ve seen each other. Even if, in the minuscule possibility, that Jared didn’t see Jensen that weekend, they’ve admitted to talking to each other a lot. So why didn’t Jensen, at any point, tell Jared about this prequel?

Then Robbie Thompson tweeted. Jared was hurt even more. Apparently, I heard through this blue hellsite, that Jared wanted RT to write for Walker, but RT refused. Why? Who knows.

Let’s go back in time, shall we?

Jared messed around on set. Jensen didn’t. I can believe that some crew members/writers/producers/directors would have hated working with Jared. Yes, I said that. Not everyone likes a goofball or prankster. Some people think those people are bullies in disguise.

Maybe, just maybe, the lines were drawn when spn ended. Some people supported Jared, others Jensen.

Before anyone yells at me too loudly, answer me this: how did Jensen - and everyone involved in the prequel including Kripke - keep this from Jared? Didn’t anyone at any point ask how Jared felt about it? Or if Jared was available? Or if Jared would have input? “He’s too busy on Walker” doesn’t cut it as an answer to me. Spn was about two brothers, always two brothers, and now a prequel will only feature one brother?

So I came to the conclusion that the industry deliberately took sides in this whole thing. Nobody told Jared because they didn’t want to work with him again. He has his own show, he’s busy, - these are easy ways of handwaving him out of the equation.

Bottom line, finally, is that Jensen stepped in some shit when he didn’t tell his co-star, his partner, his friend, about a prequel to the show they worked on for fifteen years.

Will I ever know all the details of why Jensen would do this? Nope. I’m not in the industry.

I still believe J2 were/are in a relationship and their wives are beards. I believe they have a wonderful friendship and were as close as two people can be. I don’t want to think that relationship is over. I don’t want to believe they’ve gone separate ways. But man oh man, Jensen fucked up big time here.

I can’t wait for a tell-all book thirty years from now.

#anti Jared #anti Jensen #cockles #destiel #J2 #J2 tinhat #tinhat #spn #prequel gate #prequelgate #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #Misha Collins #osric chau

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ialwayscomewhenyoucall · 3 years

Text

Every Drop of Grace

Endverse destiel

Rating: on the border between M and E (I’m over cautious, probably most people would say M)

About 3k

“Do you ever wish we could have something...normal?” Dean’s voice falls into the quiet night, a stone falling into a once-still pond.

Cas can’t hold back his snort. “Dean. You grew up hunting monsters. I’m a fallen angel. There was never going to be anything ‘normal’ about either of us.” Dean huffs in response, burying his face deeper into the hollow of Cas’s neck. “It also doesn’t help that our relationship–if that’s what you want to call it–began after the end of the world.”

“The world didn’t end,” Dean protests weakly. “It’s still here. It’s just…”

“Right,” Cas says, giving in to the urge to roll his eyes–it helps that Dean is behind him and can’t actually see his eyes. “The world is still here. We even have this tiny bit that’s almost safe.”

Dean doesn’t argue, though Cas can feel how much he wants to. Cas idly wonders if Dean ever argued a monster to death, but he doesn’t voice the thought. He doesn’t want Dean to leave. He smirks into the darkness, though. He can absolutely imagine a cocky, 13 year old version of Dean facing down a werewolf. “You’re doing it wrong!” shouts the smaller, higher-voiced Dean. “You need to lull me into complacency, then strike. No wonder you’ve been caught by a kid.

Cas chuckles softly at the made up–but completely plausible–memory. At Dean’s questioning hum, Cas skips his imaginings and brings the conversation back to where they started. “Considering the chaos all around us, I’d say what we have is amazing, Dean.” Having you at all is amazing, he does not say.

Dean smiles against Cas’s skin.

There is much Cas misses about being an angel–healing, flying, super-strength, not being so damned fragile–but on the opposite side, there are so many things that make the Fall worthwhile. He’d touched Dean when he was still an angel, and it had been nice enough. Better than nice even; there’d been something special about touching Dean from the first time he’d held the hunter’s broken soul in hell. But in this his human senses are far superior. The touch of Dean’s lips on the soft skin between Cas’s shoulder blades makes his heart race, his breathing quicken. Dean laughs, not more than a soft breath, and Cas’s stomach flips at the heat across his skin. He’s getting hard, just from a few small sensations.

Yes, the Fall was worthwhile. Even if they’re doomed, he wouldn’t trade this for all the Grace ever created.

Dean goes on, most likely unaware of Cas’s growing arousal. Cas focuses on Dean’s voice and on keeping his own breathing as even as possible, and soon he’s nearly as lost in Dean’s memories as Dean himself.

“I always tried to find fun stuff for Sammy, growing up.” Dean’s voice catches a little on his brother’s name, but he pushes through. “Most of the things I did pissed Dad off, but I didn’t let him stop me. The kid had to have something good in his horror of a childhood. Little things: a bag of marshmallows to roast over a campfire, a Monopoly game we could play in motel rooms, a baseball cap I knew he wanted. I found a pair of roller skates in his size once; I think he was about eleven. Man, that was a mess. Dumb kid took off like he knew just what he was doing and two yards later fell flat on his face. Dad put four stitches over his left eye and lectured him the whole time about what if that rock hit your eye instead of your forehead, blah blah blah. Sammy took it like a champ, didn’t flinch once, and as soon as Dad was gone Sammy put the skates right back on and took off again. And that time he didn’t fall. Well, he did, but not right away, and not so he needed stitches.”

Cas can tell Dean is working up to something, even if it all just seems like rambling. Dean is a roadmap, and sometimes Cas can follow. “A few months before I turned 16 I stole Dad’s car for a couple hours and took Sammy to a drive-in. You ever…?” Dean answers his own question before Cas has the chance to even shake his head. “Nah, you weren’t much of a movie-goer back in your halo days. At a drive-in you sit in your car to watch a movie–outside, at night. You park by a little speaker that pipes the sound right to you, and the screen is gigantic, big as...well, I don’t even know, it’s been too long, but trust me, it’s big. You look out the front of the car and all you see is the movie. You’ve got the sound filling up the car and the movie filling up your eyes and it’s like you and whoever you’re sitting with are in your own little world, whatever make-believe world the actors and all the rest made for you to live in. For a few hours, anyway.”

Dean’s voice is rough, almost raw. “That’s what we have, Cas. A few hours in a bubble full of make-believe, until the bubble pops and it’s the end of the world again.”

Cas wants to scream, to deny every word, to tell Dean it isn’t make-believe, it isn’t, and he wants to spend every minute from now until they fall to dust proving it, but instead he hears his traitorous mouth whisper, “I know.”

“It’s okay,” Dean says, and Cas isn’t sure which of them Dean is trying to comfort. “It’s okay. The pretending, the bubble–it’s enough.”

It isn’t. Cas wants it all, wants every bit of Dean. His smiles and his glares, his laughs and his curses, his happy chatter and his incoherent tears. He wants to be fucked into the mattress and then hold Dean in his arms until the sun comes up, to have Dean stay all night instead of slinking away in the darkness.

It isn’t enough. The coffee’s been gone for awhile, but he wants to make Dean tea in the mornings, good strong tea to bring a little of the sparkle back to his green eyes. He wants to go with him on foraging runs, venturing out of their little corner of the world to find supplies to last them just a little bit longer. He wants to have Dean’s back, to protect him, to keep him safe. He doesn’t have his mojo anymore, but he still has his blade, and he’s had millenia of practice to hone his skills.

Cas doesn’t want only darkness, grasping and clutching at each other when the rest of the world sleeps. He wants to give Dean every kind of pleasure, and maybe a little bit of peace. As a fallen angel, Cas doesn’t think he gets to go to heaven, but he doesn’t mind. He has here, he has now.

So this little bubble of half-truths and fairy tales…

It’s not enough.

Cas’s eyes begin to sting. “Fuck.” The word is mostly air, barely a sound at all, but of course Dean hears. Because Dean can see through Cas’s pretences too. That’s how these things work.

“Cas?”

“It’s nothing,” Cas says, but Dean sees through that too, maneuvering them both so they’re face to face on the narrow bed. Cas closes his eyes, willing the tears to stop before they can properly begin. He hates to cry, hates to have his feelings fly so far out of his control that they stream down his face in the form of wet, salty tears.

“It’s nothing,” he says again, when he trusts that his voice won’t give him away. Then, grasping at the first thought that passes through his head, he says, “I just don’t like when the bubble pops.”

The lines around Dean’s eyes soften. He presses a kiss to Cas’s forehead and says, “We’ve still got a few hours. I’m not going anywhere.” His yet is unspoken but Cas hears it anyway.

Dean’s got one hand holding the side of Cas’s face, fingers threaded into his hair, the other resting lightly on his hip. Their legs are tangled together, and when Dean moves in to kiss Cas again their hips move together and Cas can’t take it anymore. There is so much skin, it feels like skin for miles, but also like he can feel every individual cell, every molecule of Dean’s breath, every miniscule drop of sweat…

“Dean,” Cas groans, because it’s too much, his brain is going to overload. It doesn’t matter that they had sex not long ago–Cas needs more, needs to be closer. “Dean.” It’s almost a prayer. “Please.”

And Dean is there, even before he calls, pushing him onto his back. Dean kisses Cas, hungry, and Cas is happy–eager–to be devoured. He’s got his arms wrapped around Dean, clawing at his back, trying to pull them closer together. There’s a part of his brain screaming that Dean thinks this is all pretend, so maybe if Cas can get them close enough together, if he can somehow press the truth into Dean’s skin, then maybe Dean will understand.

But then Dean thrusts his cock (hard, so hard, and all for him) against Cas’s, and he stops thinking and just feels.

Cas throws his head back and Dean nips at his throat; Cas hisses and claws at Dean’s back again. There’s a growl coming from deep in Dean’s chest, but Cas can feel the smile against his skin. They both like the small shocks of pain–reminders of life.

Holding himself up on one forearm, Dean reaches between them, wrapping his strong, calloused fingers around both their cocks. A moan escapes Cas’s lips, and Dean chuckles softly. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” He’s looking deep into Cas’s eyes, and not for the first time Cas suspects he sees a bit of faerie in the emerald depths; enchanting, beautiful, tricksome, and dangerous. He knows there’s nothing to the thought; he knit Dean back together molecule by molecule, saw every strand of his DNA.

Dean twists his hand in a particularly skillful way and Cas is pulled back to the present. Their first time. Yes, Cas remembers. How could he forget?

“Summer sun,” Cas manages, in between gasping breaths. “Your freckles…”

“My freckles?” Dean laughs. “That’s what you remember?”

“I might be only human now, Dean Winchester, but I remember–” He gasps as Dean’s palm brushes against a particularly sensitive spot– “I remember every second of that afternoon with perfect–” Another shuddering gasp– “Perfect clarity.”

Dean’s hand stutters to a stop, and when Cas sees the look in Dean’s eyes something in his stomach twists. Don’t be too real don’t be too real shouts a voice inside his head, clearly battling with the part of him that wants Dean to know everything.

I’m a mess, he thinks.

To Dean he says in a low, broken voice, “I was leaning against the trunk of a tree, looking up at the sun shining through the leaves. It occurred to me that I’d never spent any time looking at trees, or leaves, or much of anything at all while I was an angel. I did what I was told. Didn’t even take time to look around and enjoy the view.”

Dean’s hand starts to move again. For a moment Cas’s eyelids flutter closed, his eyes rolling upwards in pure pleasure, but then he continues, concentrating on speaking slowly and carefully and without breaking. He almost succeeds.

“I hadn’t been human long. A month? Five weeks? Not long enough to get used to human senses. So when you walked up and the sun shone down on your face, your freckles standing out against your pale skin… And then you put your hand–” The memory of Dean’s hand reaching out is too much and he has to stop to breathe, to gain control, because he doesn’t want to come yet. The story isn’t over. “You put your hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Hey Cas.’”

That had been it. Just a touch, some freckles, and his name on Dean’s lips.

“There was something in your eyes,” Dean says, taking over the narrative. “I hadn’t meant to kiss you. But you looked...kissable. Blue eyes wide and…” He gives his head a quick shake. “I don’t know what it was. But as soon as our lips touched I knew it was the right thing to do. Knew I shouldn’t have waited so long to do it.” At this Cas raises his head up just enough to slot their lips together. It’s an electric current, sharp and warm, just like it always is.

It’s home.

“And then you pushed me up against my cabin wall.”

They’re both breathing heavy now, each of them close to their release but trying to hold on.

“It was the closest wall I could find,” Dean says, a little defensive, a little embarrassed. “And it was a little more hidden than the tree we started out against.”

If Cas had the breath to spare he’d laugh. He lets out a puff of air instead, and Dean’s eyes light up in response. “Yeah,” Cas says, teasing. “Sun shining down on us, completely visible from three sides, only blocked by the cabin. Couldn’t be bothered to–”

Dean stops him with a kiss. Cas doesn’t mind. Cas’s mind is full of lips and skin and hands and sparks and pleasure that is building and building and threatening to heave him overboard–

Cas is on the edge, barely hanging on, when Dean stops.

The stillness is both total and false. Neither of them moves, almost as if they are frozen in time, and there is no breath of wind coming through the open window, no branches scratching at the roof. But there are two hearts pounding, two men gasping for breath, and the whispers of a thousand words not being said.

Cas refuses to be the first one to speak. He knows if he opens his mouth, he’ll never stop.

It feels like an eternity has passed–though it’s probably only been ten or fifteen seconds, Cas’s sense of time has been skewed since his Fall–when Dean breaks the silence.

“What do you want, Cas?”

“Everything.”

Cas tells the truth, the real truth, before he can think, and for a moment he wishes he could somehow call the word back, erase it from history, go back to their bubble of make-believe. Dean would probably let him brush it off. He could call it sex induced lunacy. It’s probably even true.

But no. No. He’s fucking tired of pretend, of half-truths, of bedtime stories. This isn’t enough. He means it, he wants everything.

Dean is looking into his eyes, searching for something. Cas can’t read his expression, he’s guarding his thoughts too closely.

It hurts, having Dean hide from him. They’re naked and in each other’s arms, and Dean’s…

Well, really they’re both hiding. They’ve been hiding from the beginning.

Shit.

There’s a burning behind Cas’s eyes again, but this time he can’t blink the tears away. When the first tear rolls down Cas’s face Dean pulls back, a fraction of an inch, in surprise. His thumb wipes away the tear.

“Cas?”

“It’s not enough,” Cas says. “I can’t do this anymore, Dean. I meant what I said, I want everything. All of it. I want to spend the night with you and wake up with you in the morning. I want to kiss you in the daytime, with the sun on your freckles. Are you ashamed of me? The camp screwup, the broken angel? Because people talk, Dean. Everyone knows you come here, and they know what we do, and they don’t care. The world is falling apart. There are bigger things to worry about. There are bigger things for us, too, but right now all that matters is I can’t hide anymore. I love you, Dean. I think...no. I know I always have. And I don’t want to waste another second hiding in the dark.”

And Dean just looks at him. Once upon a time Cas put Dean together, molecule by molecule. Saw every bit of him. That’s how Cas feels now. Examined. Seen.

Known.

It should be horrifying, but it’s Dean, so Cas just looks back, waiting. He doesn’t even wipe away the tears that keep falling despite his best efforts to blink the damned things back.

The silence goes on so long Cas is sure Dean is going to get up and walk away. It’s okay, he tells himself. I want more, I want everything, but to love...that will never end. It will hurt, but I’ll still love him. No matter–

And then Dean is kissing him. It’s not heated, or frantic; it’s a soft, gentle kiss and makes Cas feel wrapped in love. They both smile, their foreheads pressed together. “Wish you’d said something sooner, Cas.”

“Didn’t want to push you away.”

Dean pulls back a little. “That’s...well, yeah, that’s…”

Smile widening, Cas says, “We’ll work it out.”

In what Cas supposes is an answer, Dean kisses him. A bit more playful this time, he even bites at Cas’s lower lip. Cas can’t hold back his moan. The feel of teeth rasping against his skin…it’s almost too much.

And then Dean’s hand starts moving again, tugging and twisting at their dicks. Cas is almost startled, he’d been so caught up in his confession of– but now isn’t the time, he’s groaning into Dean’s mouth and he thinks there might be words but his brain isn’t quite connected to the rest of his body at the moment. All he knows is good and Dean and so much love and skin and when Dean murmurs Cas’s name it’s too much for him and he spills his seed between them. Dean chases after, a punched out sound falling from his lips.

They lie together, still, their come sticky and drying between them. Somewhere far off in the camp a door clatters shut.

“I wish–” Dean starts.

“I know,” Cas interrupts. But it’s not the time to dwell on what might have been.

Dean shifts them into a more comfortable position. “Okay.”

“We should–”

“No.” This time it’s Dean interrupting. “Not yet. We can clean up in a few minutes. Right now I just want to hold you.”

Tucking his face against Dean’s chest, Cas murmurs, “I can’t say no to that.”

Dean somehow pulls Cas closer, and Cas’s skin sings. Worth every feather, he thinks. Every drop of Grace.

For @bend-me-shape-me ‘s Dean/Cas summer prompts!

Week 2 (drive-in cinema) and week 3 (I can still recall our last summer)

I hit week 3 kinda sideways…but it works!

#lirael writes #deancassummerprompts21 #endverse destiel #love confessions #angst with a happy ending #this makes me happy

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red-riot-rat · 4 years

Text

ＲＥＱＵＥＳＴ:Hey Kid! May I request a platonic Todoroki x pro hero reader? Where she was best friends with Touya and after what happened she always tries to be there for Shota and she always annoys Endeavor (*cough* asshole *cough*). Hope that made sense! Oh and maybe she has an angel type quirk? -🐉

HEY HEY! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH KDSJF i included Dabi a lot more in da bonus,,, hes uhm… really hot.

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：CHAOS/ANGST NEAR THE END

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: some angst if you squint, cursing, reader being a bad bitch to the fire man,

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘴: she/her

AN: AHHAHAH I SUCK AT HERO NAMES LMAOOOSDJHF S okay so fr i got really into this… and watch me make up things about the hero world… and in this, endeavour has no redemption arc….

Readers quirk: Angel Wings

Hero name: Halo

Description: sprouting from just below your shoulder blades come pure white feathery wings, and from tip to tip is 26 feet of pure wing. When you surround someone with your wings you have healing qualities. Your wings can carry you incredibly fast, sometimes faster than hawks if ya try hard enough

Weakness: Alike Hawks, your wings are susceptible to fire.

Italics in between - are flashbacks

“What was he like?” the hetero chromatic boy besides you asked, eyes wandering into yours.

“He was…” you smiled at him. He's never met him, or really interacted with his own brother, thanks to his father.

“He was really sweet to me Shoto. I think you would’ve loved him.”

“You think so?”

There was a moment of silence, and you reached over to rest your hand on his.

You smiled wide at him, reminiscing over your lost friend.

“I do.”

You sighed over the lost memories, the old ones, and ones you’ll never be able to make. You swung your legs in your stool and bit the inside of your lip.

It hurts to think of him, but he’s okay now.

He's gotta be and you promised him.

You spun in your seat to face Shoto, and to turn your attention to anything else right now.

“Come on, we can get a drink later or soba or something, but we have to be at my agency in twenty.” You jumped off your seat, your shoes landing on the ground with a soft thud.

“Okay.” The boy next to you hopped off his seat as well, and fixed his hero costume. Looking into his left eye reminded you of your best friend, who you lost so long ago.

You tried your best to be side by side with Shoto, knowing how hard Enji was on him.

Not only that, but you promised Toya.

You promised him to stick around, both in life and with his beloved family.

Even if something happened to him.

He promised you the same thing, that if you were to die, he would stick around for the better.

“Hey. Can I tell you something?” The red haired boy leaned forward, and swung his legs once or twice. You sat on the roof of your apartment, the one where he slept over on a weekly basis.

The stars were out, the moon reflected off of his blue eyes as he stared at you.

“Yeah, whats up?”

You were only 14 at the time, he was 15. There was nothing between you, just a family kinda love.

“Can you make me a promise? I’ll make the same one back.” He held out his hand, pinky outstretched. It was your thing, you pinky promise before the promise is stated because no matter what,

You guys were sticking together.

You wrapped your pinky around his, and touched the pads of your thumb together.

“I can.”

There was a second of silence, and he stared into your eyes.

“If I die you have to stick around.”

You stared at him, and tears pricked the corner of your eyes. Your wings fluttered and stuck close to you.

“Okay. I promise.” You shakily promised him, and blinked the tears away. You pulled on his hand before he let go and your brows furrowed.

“Be safe, okay Toya? That's all I need you to say right now. Promise me.”

He looked lost for a second, lost in your protection, lost in his own pain, everything.

“I promise.”

You walked quickly next to Shoto, talking happily of new soba recipes or shops, your friends, anything that popped up.

There weren’t many boundaries, but Toya was never brought up much.

You fiddled with your necklace charm, the one in the shape of a light blue heart.

“Shoto, how is Midoriya?” you asked him, hoping to change your mind's topic.

Todoroki carried the conversation on his own, until you arrived at your agency. You didn't mind he carried it, it was nice.

“Still breaking hands, hand crusher?” You teased him, and he smiled slightly.

“Not anymore, gladly.”

You laughed with each other as you walked down the halls, waving to sidekicks and heroes who lingered in your agency.

Closer to your office, Shoto had scared himself shitless, turning a corner and he swore he saw something move and he iced the floor, it was fun.

He slid around, squatted slightly, arms out as you flew slightly above the ground.

You giggled at him, rolling around the walls as he struggled.

It was all fun and games.

“Shoto. Halo.” A booming voice echoed through the hall, causing your laughter to cease quickly. You glanced near the sound, already knowing its owner. You narrowed your eyes, and cocked your head to the side and you crossed your arms.

“Endeavour.” You said, your voice monotone.

The red haired male stared at you, his arms crossed and his head tilted up slightly.

“Can we help you?” you asked him, a certain snarl in your voice.

The male looked down upon you as his son steadied himself and stood besides you. He clenched his fists at the sight of his father, the current top hero.

Endeavor said nothing, and you grew frustrated. What does he fucking want?

“Hello?” you waved your hand dangerously close to his face, feeling his flames rise and grow in heat. “Did you fucking hear me?”

Shoto’s eyes widened slightly as he watched his father and your taunting actions.

“If you keep acting like a child, you will never reach me.” His voice boomed, and there was a moment of silence. Shoto turned his head slightly to see you holding in a laugh.

“Father-”

“HAHAHA YOU’RE A GODDAMN IDIOT. YOU THINK I WOULD WANT TO BE LIKE YOU?” you laughed at him, and got closer to his face. Shoto grabbed your hand, but did not hold you back much farther from that.

Being face to face with this man, that took away your best friend from you, caused him pain and trauma and sorrow. And not just him, his whole fucking bloodline.

“You think I would ever want to be like you? You’re the man who took him away from me. My fucking best friend. I would never want to be like you, and I know he wouldn't want to be either.”

You prodded him with your finger, staring into his fiery eyes. His eyes narrowed at the mention of his son, and tightened his arms around his chest. Seeing him made you upset, and anyone could see it.

“So no, if being the number one hero, or fuck, even a top hero, meant being anything like you, then no. I will always choose to never be like you, and anyone with half a goddamn brain cell knows why.”

You pulled away from him, an anger in your stomach and your left hand was made into a fist. The boy besides you tugged on your hand, and you stepped back into line with him.

“So, please Endeavwhore, try me.” Your scowled at him, and he stared. His eyes switched from you to his son to your right. He scoffed and began to turn away.

“Don’t let me down, Shoto.”

His hand clenched around yours, your fingers intertwined.

“Don't worry Sho, you will never be like him.”

You softly tapped his shoulder with yours, and he looked at you. You looked into his eyes, and smirked at him, flashing a wink. You flipped up your middle finger to the fiery males back and stuck your tongue out at him, as Shoto snickered softly.

Endeavor continued walking, his heavy boots echoing down the hall.

I miss you Toya.

“Toya, don't continue to be around her.” Endeavor glared at you as he continued.

“She will continue to be a horrible influence, and will never be a top hero.”

Toya’s fists clenched hard, but he shoved them into his pockets to hide his furious action.

“Do you understand me Toya?”

The boy was silent, his eyes with a sharp glare. Your breath hitched in your throat and you began to slowly scooch closer to the boy.

“She’ll always be a better hero than you.”

Toya said as he rolled his eyes and stuck out his middle finger almost directly in his father's face. Your wings spread wide and took off fast, and as you held onto the boy's waist, you heard his father yell over the sound of the wind.

“HAH! FUCKING LOOK AT THAT,THAT BASTARD!” Toya laughed in your arms, his legs swinging over open air. You glanced at where his finger was pointing and saw his father stand in rising flames, and in obvious rage. You couldn't help but snicker as you warned him.

“Dude, you're gonna get killed! Oh my god, we’re going back to my place.”

But, I will protect Shoto with all my power.

AN: UNDER HERE IS ANGST DUDE HELP AJBHF

BONUS:

An alarm blared through your halls, flashing lights overcoming your senses. Shoto grasped your arm, and began to run. Your wings shook, shuddering to keep up with the sudden action.

“Come on. 17th precinct!”

Shoto ran out of your agency, and you parted ways. Your wings took flight quickly and flew you above the city.

You searched and searched for a sight of chaos, and it only took a moment before your wings acted before your brain could.

You sped off towards a tunnel of smoke, knowing Shoto can meet you there.

Your wings carried you fast and flapped heavily, and you knew you were not fit for this.

You had no choice, and if anything

This is what being a hero is about.

You could die here easily, stripped of your wings, stripped of your and yet here you are.

Because you promised you would keep fighting.

Your wings fluttered as you dropped to the ground, your eyes immediately searching for victims.

There was no one around, just burnt debris and smoke. The smoke filled your lungs, and you struggled to breathe.

Your eyes never ceased to search for victims, high and low left and right,

But you found no one.

You ran into the smoke, shielding your eyes. Eventually, Shoto will find you but for now you must search for others and protect them.

A shadowy figure stalked towards you, barely seen in the thick of the smoke.

“Hey! Are you okay?” you coughed out as loud as you could.

His footsteps were heavy, and a burned coat flew behind him.

“Just fine angel.”

You tensed at the nickname, no one called you that anymore. It was a common nickname, and you were the angel hero.

“Who are you?” You shouted as the figure grew near, more and more, heavy footsteps echoed off burnt and fallen debris.

And there was silence as he stopped walking, the smoke began to clear slowly. You squinted, attempting to see into his figure, searching for any sign of real life in it.

You stood as tall as you could and stretched your wings to the fullest. They were covered in ashes and dirt.

As the smoke cleared you made out his tall lanky figure as much as you could.

His burned jacket flew in the wind, wrapped around his scarred body. His scars were purple and seemed scary, but faintly familiar.

His eyes were a scary blue, but they brought a warmth with the sorrow they seemed to carry.

Your necklace hung against your chest, moving slightly in the wind.

“Still a hero?”

You didn't know what he meant, maybe he’s seen you on T.V. and figured you were a worse version of Hawks.

“Yes, I- Who are you? Can I help? Are you okay?” You asked him, you didn't know if he was okay or not.

It never occurred to you he could be the one beyond it.

“Oh I’m just fine doll!” He raised his scarred hand to the right, and blue flames burst out of it.

“You should be concerned over the destruction hm?” You stood in shock, the flames, the eyes, the scars.

“Holy shit.” you whimpered to yourself, staring into his turquoise eyes as he smiled at your unmoving figure.

“Holy shit!” You yelled, and began to run towards him.

The smoke hurt your eyes,

But you kept running.

He reached his other hand out, maybe he expected you to stop, to be afraid, but your legs moved before your brain could think.

Your footsteps were quick and light. You avoided burnt debri, and as you grew closer to the male you could make out his features.

Jagged purple scarred half of his face, silver staples decorated the edges of them. His black hair flew in a familiar pattern, and on top of everything,

His blue eyes were even more prominent up close.

You stared into them, brows furrowed in worry, for the destruction, for the civilians, for wherever the hell Shoto is right now.

“Who are you?” you asked again, and raised your hands, your left hand gripping his raised arm, and your right his coat.

He smiled at me again and leaned his head forward.

“Whadda mean, hero?” He said, close enough to your ear to send shivers down your spine.

“Don’t you remember me?”

You opened your mouth to respond to him, but Shoto’s voice began to echo through the debris.

“HALO!” He yelled for you, and you wanted to turn to see him but your eyes were locked onto the black haired male before you.

“Shoto.” you whispered. Your lower lip trembled just a little, and your brows furrowed again.

“Shoto!” You yelled as you began to step back away from the male before you. You stumbled back, and the lanky male grabbed onto the front of your costume, and held you in place.

“HAL-” Shoto’s voice rang through your mine, and your head whipped around to see him, his eyes wide and flames bursting from his side.

“Dabi. Let her go.” He shouted slightly, he was still a bit far. His hair waved in the wind as he moved towards you as fast as he could.

“Hi, Shoto. Nice to see you again. I’m just having fun with my doll, eh?” Dabi smirked at him, as his hand released your costume and you fell back.

You hit the ground hard, and groaned. You stared into the males eyes, switching between his and Shotos left eye.

“Toya.” You whispered to him, lip quivering. He snapped his head to you and smiled wide.

“Hi angel.”

He grasped your throat in his right hand, his hand was hot, overwhelming hot.

“I see you kept your promise.”

His other hand fiddled with your necklace, the one he gave to you so long ago. He stared at it, before switching his eyes to you, and tugging on the chain quickly. The chain broke apart in his grip, and fell apart onto the group.

You were unbothered and delved into your memories of your best friend, the best friend you thought you lost.

“I missed you doll.”

Everything around you began to set itself to flames.

AN: might fuck around and write a part 2… has me thinking about yagami yatos dabi

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rudysrings · 4 years

Text

TEACH ME

The lifeguard at the beach yesterday inspired me to write this...y’all tell me that’s 👆👆👆not JJ!!!!

Summary: The reader has to train a new lifeguard, a certain blonde who can’t seem to stop hitting on her.

Word count: 4.1k (Holy shit what did I do)

Warnings: Uh mentions of drowning, weed, fluff? Not much this is really just a sweet oneshot

Credit to @alexa-playafricabytoto for the killer idea...I don’t think I did it justice but here we go anyways 😂

DISCLAIMER: I don’t know shit about lifeguards and was too lazy to do research so this it’s extremely likely that this is HIGHLY inaccurate and I’m sorry about that but just go with it for fanfic purposes, eh?

“Hey, Y/N!” Mr. Rodriguez, your manager called out for you from his office in the beach’s visitor center. You had just clocked in, still in your jean shorts and tank.

You quickly walked over, popping your head in the doorway of his office. Seated in front of him, you noticed, was a blond in a red snapback, a Kildare County Marina T-shirt on. “Yeah, boss?” You asked.

He gave you a rare, sweet smile, gesturing for you to sit down.

Confused, you cautiously walked over, sliding into the empty chair beside the blonde boy. You felt him glance at you but you looked straight at your manager.

“So Kyle’s out on some family emergency this week…” Your manager started.

You scoffed inwardly but didn’t say anything out loud for the sake of being professional. Kyle’s family emergency was most likely him passed out and hungover after a night of drinking, smoking and a shit ton of coke or molly or acid or whatever he was taking these days.

“And seeing as he was your partner and was supposed to train the newbie,” Mr. Rodriguez continued, gesturing towards the boy beside you, “So meet JJ Maybank, your new partner until I decide he’s learned enough from you.”

Your beach’s lifeguards worked on a partner system, due to its size. There were always two lifeguards in every tower to maintain maximum security.

You tried not to groan. JJ Maybank? Of all the people in the world, you had to get stuck with the one notorious for recklessness, theft, and starting fights? Of fucking course, you did.

“Right,” You nodded, giving your manager a tight-lipped smile, maintaining your politeness while subtly letting him know you were not happy with the cards you had just been dealt.

Again, without looking at JJ, you stood up, your hands on your hips. “When do we start?” You asked.

“Right now.”

You nodded, turning on your heel and calling over your shoulder. “You coming, Maybank?”

You heard shuffling as he followed after your long strides. You grabbed a rescue buoy for yourself and tossed one to JJ, who caught it with ease. You walked toward the front desk, smiling at Cheri, one of the receptionists your own age who was always nice to you, letting you get away with things she probably shouldn’t have. Picking up two whistles, you walked out the door and finally greeted the boy.

“So you lifeguard now?”

He shrugged. “I do whatever to pay for my pot.”

You rolled your eyes, walking down the beach towards your assigned tower for the day. “I can respect that.”

“So there are a few things you should know,” You began, to which JJ listened intently.

“I figure Rodriguez has already been through the list of your duties?” You raised an eyebrow in question.

JJ nodded. “Thoroughly. He doesn’t think I’ve a single brain cell, that man. He tried to draw me a picture of the lifeguard tower.”

You held in a smile. “If you ask me, he’s right to think that,” you quipped, making JJ pout.

“Anyways, apart from that, you need to know a few other things that are kind of unwritten. For example, don’t bother telling people to get off the rocks, just be ready to save them if they fall.”

JJ wrinkled his brows. “The fuck kind of rule is that? Not even going to warn people?”

You shrugged. “Unless you want to make a scene with a bunch of Karens shouting at you for dictating rules on a public beach, then you’ll do as I say.”

JJ grumbled. ‘Yes, ma’am.”

“Bob your head every once in a while so you don’t miss the people right below you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep the buoy on you wherever you go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And lastly, don’t ever think someone is faking anything. Doesn’t matter if your friend is pranking you, we gotta do what we gotta do. We have to save every last imbecile on this beach.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Frustrated, You turned towards him, stopping in the sand, one hand on your hip. “Oh, shut your trap with that ma’am nonsense, Maybank. Trust me, you lucked out with getting me as a partner over Kyle—”

JJ nodded. “I sure did, guy’s a total tool. Besides, hot girl over junkie guy,” he whistled low, “no debate there.”

You tried not to blush at JJ calling you hot, but you felt the tips of your ears turn pink.

“Right, well, you can’t be hitting on me while we’re working together, Maybank.”

“Why not?”

You stepped forward, poking him in the chest. “Because you’ve known me since we were kids, yet we’ve never spoken. So don’t go pretending that I’m not invisible anymore.”

JJ frowned.

You turned, “Come on, there’s work to do.”

One the two of you climbed up the tower, you put on your whistle and gestured for JJ to lean forward, so that you could toss it over his neck. He did so, accidentally knocking his forehead on yours. “Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping away.

As he settled in, you stripped your shorts and tank, now left in your ruby red lifeguard one piece.

Today was slow, being a Wednesday off-season, and JJ tried to start a conversation. He pulled out a joint and offered it to you.

You gave him an “Are you kidding me,” look and he shrugged, unbothered, lighting it up and taking a long hit. “So what’s Keith really doing if he’s not having a family emergency?”

“Kieth? You mean Kyle?”

JJ nodded. “Right, him.”

You laughed dryly, “Probably wrecked after popping ten too many pills and sleeping with a few too many girls. Guy doesn’t know when to stop.”

JJ didn’t look at you, looking out at the sea. “So when did you two break it off?”

“What—We—” You spluttered.

JJ took another long inhale from the joint. “It’s easy to see, babe.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you snapped, pulling down your sunglasses from atop your head, hoping to hide the emotions that were most definitely swimming in your eyes.

“S’not, I know,”

“Then why ask?”

“Just curious as to how a girl like you ended up with a douche like him.”

You were quiet for a moment, before you said, “He wasn’t always like this.”

“Only doing coke, not into molly yet?” JJ joked.

You chuckled. “No, not like that. He was incredibly kind, he had the biggest heart.” You fingered the wood on the arm of your chair.

“Then what happened?”

“Then his mom died, and I wasn’t enough.” Your hand retreated into your lap.

“He dump you?”

Your eyes narrowed. “No, I dumped him. I’m smart enough to know when I’m getting less than I deserve.”

JJ hummed. “I think I have a chance then.”

You laughed. “You’ve got nothing more than wishful thinking, Maybank.”

“Come to the kegger tonight. I’ll show you wishful thinking.”

You almost gasped at his forwardness. “No, you idiot.”

He turned towards you, meeting your eyes, pleading. You didn’t relent.

“Fine, miss, I’ll just let you keep that stick up your ass then.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

When lunch came around, you let him go first, and when he returned, smelling of way too much weed, you asked, “You mind if I catch some waves? Think you can hold your own for a half hour?”

JJ gave a toothy grin. “Hell yeah, and watch you ride those waves? It’s going to be hard for me to watch anything but you.”

You smacked him over the head. “Do your job or we’ll both be in trouble, Maybank.”

You grabbed your board and climbed down, racing across the sand towards the water. Finally, you let yourself relax, sinking into the waves as they came. You even caught yourself doing a couple tricks, unconsciously trying to impress the blonde boy who was watching you from the tower. You felt high as a kite when you even managed to successfully execute several cutbacks in a row. You thought you heard a celebratory whistle from the direction of the tower and you jokingly gave a salute towards the beach.

As you climbed back up, JJ cheered. “Holy shit! I knew you were good, but god damn, Y/N! You gotta teach me how to do that Rodeo Flip! I’ve been trying to get it down for years!”

You laughed. “We’ll see, Maybank.”

His hands tugging at his hair in excitement, he asked, “How are you not going pro?!”

You shrugged. “I don’t do it for sport. It’s just something I do for me.”

JJ nodded, a renewed look of respect in his eyes. “Word.”

You spent the rest of your shift laughing at the ridiculous tourists on the beach, especially the ones that forgot sunblock.

You told JJ to go on ahead of towards the visiting center as you had a couple of things left to tidy up.

When you returned, he was chatting up Cheri, a thousand watt smile on her face as she enjoyed the attention from the pretty blonde.

You rolled your eyes, shoving past them to dump your equipment and clock out. You didn’t know what that bubbling feeling in your abdomen was, or why your stomach lurched at the thought of Cheri and JJ, or maybe you did, but you chose not to think about it too hard, afraid of the conclusion you’d come to.

As you walked out of the visitor center, turning towards home, you heard JJ call your name. You stopped, closing your eyes and muttering a silent prayer for the patience to deal with this boy.

He jogged out, making his way to you. “Hey!” He greeted, out of breath.

“Here to give me another half-assed invite to some kegger?” You asked.

JJ frowned, shaking his head. “No, I just wanted to clarify something you said this morning. You-You said that I thought you were invisible, because we’ve never spoken.”

“And?” you didn’t see where he was going with this other than to insult you.

“We’ve never spoken because I had the biggest crush on you Y/N. I’ve avoided you everywhere. You were hardly invisible to me. If anything, I didn’t think you saw me.”

You laughed. “Sure, Maybank.”

JJ shuffled his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s true,” he mumbled.

You smiled, “Have fun at the kegger, JJ.” You gave him a peck on the cheek before walking off into the night, the darkness hiding your flaming cheeks.

You heard a celebratory whoop from behind you and bit your lip as you smiled.

Your heart felt light all week as you got closer to your partner. He was actually great at his job, especially with the children patrons on the beach, which greatly surprised you.

You remembered one day in the middle of the week, when you were dropping your equipment off, JJ didn’t have his whistle.

When you asked about it, he simply laughed. “This kid near the docks kept pestering me for it. Little guy wanted to be a junior lifeguard. Couldn’t say no…”

It was at the end of the week when you met his friends, the infamous, self-proclaimed pogues.

The trio had shown up near the end of your shift, claiming to be curious of the job that JJ actually managed to keep for longer than a day. JJ saw them approaching and immediately swore, turning towards you to say, “I’m going to apologize now for what you’re about to experience.”

Before you could ask what that meant, he had left, climbing down the towers to stop his friends from reaching you.

Confused, you made your way down, too, watching as a boy with shaggy brown hair clapped JJ over the back, ruffling his hair aggressively. “So this is what you’ve been missing out on pogue days for?”

A dark haired boy, who looked nervous about simply existing, added, “Not what, who,” nodding at you, standing with your arms crossed over your chest and an eyebrow cocked.

JJ had a permanent blush on his face, but you couldn’t puzzle out why. Meanwhile, you received a slightly reserved smile from the girl holding hands with the nervous boy. She waved politely.

The boy with shaggy hair marched forward, arms wide open to give you a hug. You thrust your hand out on instinct, which he looked at like a difficult algebra equation, before brushing it away gently and pulling you into his tight embrace. The boy gave great hugs, you had to admit. The kind of tight bear hugs you expect from your mom.

You laughed nervously, patting him on the back and looking over his shoulder at the other three, who all laughed. JJ mouthed I’m sorry at you and you responded with I’m going to kill you.

When he finally let you go, he tussled your hair and said, “Nice to meet the girl who’s got my boy tripping over his own feet to get to work. I’m John B.”

You flicked your eyes over to JJ, who was as red as a tomato. He buried his face in Pope’s shoulder, muttering something. You snorted. “Hardly. I’m Y/N.”

The dark haired boy grinned, “Trust me, we know. I’m Pope and this is Kie,” he introduced himself and what you assumed was his girlfriend.

In the next hour, you learned that JJ’s friends were loud, blunt and lacked basic manners in some ways, but they were youthful and thick as thieves, clearly a family.

There was something warm about Pope, something that allowed you to trust him immediately, completely. So when the other three were surfing, and he joined you on the sand, asking you, “So are you feelin’ my boy or what?”, you weren’t afraid to be completely honest.

Giving a short laugh at his bluntness, you admitted, “I don’t really know. There could be something there. There is something there, I think.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

You would feel pathetic to confess this to anybody else, but Pope seemed like he wouldn’t judge you if you admitted to having three children. “I don’t know if we want the same things. I don’t see a guy like that in a serious relationship. Doesn’t seem like the type to settle.”

Pope grinned. “You know him well, then.”

Your heart fell as you thought that Pope was confirming your fears.

“But not well enough, I think. You’d be surprised. He’s kind of...obsessed with you. But not in the “Pokemon gotta catch ‘em all!” kind of way. He doesn’t see you as some sort of spiky eared Pichu…”

He trailed off and you looked at him, absolutely baffled. “I’m sorry...I don’t follow?”

Pope cleared his throat. “He likes you, Y/N, like really respects you and wants to make you happy. Any fool can see that.”

You were sure your entire body was on fire with how hard you flushed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Well, you keep him on his toes so we don’t mind. And it’s made him a little softer, a little more careful, which we definitely don’t mind. He needs to be checked, that one.”

Pope stood up, reaching his hand out and pulling you up. “Now, JJ tells me you have a killer cutback. Wanna show me?” He asks.

You give him a big smile, grateful for his kind words and ability to seamlessly bring you back to reality from that heavy conversation. “I’d love to. If you can keep up!”

Laughing, Pope followed you into the ocean, JJ giving you an excited smile as you joined him in the water, content to see you getting along with his family.

Later that night, when his friends left, and JJ was helping you towel off your hair while shaking his own like a wet dog, making you giggle and shriek at the sensation, he asked, “You wanna actually catch some waves outside of this beach sometime?”

It was your conversation with Pope earlier that gave you the confidence to say, “How about tomorrow? It’s our day off…”

“I’ll pick you up before dawn then?”

You nodded, “Sounds perfect.”

He tossed you your towel, casually throwing an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked back to the visitor’s center.

The next morning, you were a mess. JJ had never seen you in anything aside from your lifeguard uniform and you nearly lost your mind trying to figure out what to wear. You felt like a middle schooler deciding what to wear on the first day of school to impress their crush.

Eventually, you thought to hell with it, and just went with a blue romper over your swimsuit, letting your hair down for once.

You didn’t bother with makeup since you were planning to get soaked anyways.

When you heard the distinct sound of a large engine approaching, you walked out of your house, curious.

When the image of JJ on a dirt bike came into focus, you couldn’t help the cackle that tittered out of your mouth.

He slowed down to a complete stop in front of your driveway, swinging his leg over and walking up to you, spinning the key ‘round his finger.

“Hey, dude!” He greeted, sweeping you up in an unexpected hug. Still, you melted into his frame, letting your usually rigid spine relax, feeling JJ nuzzle into your shoulder slightly and sighing.

You pulled away after a moment and JJ rubbed the back of his neck shyly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Sorry, I-uh, I really needed that today.” This boy was touch-starved.

You patted his chest as you walked towards the dirt bike. “S’alright, it happens to the best of us.”

JJ followed you. “You ever ridden one of these before?”

You cocked your head at him. “Oh yeah, all the time.”

He looked surprised, before handing you the keys and raising his eyebrows in challenge. “Prove it.”

You simply smirked and mounted the bike, pretending you didn’t hear JJ mumble “That’s hot,” under his breath. Instead, you started the engine and nodded at him to get on behind you.

JJ smiled before climbing on behind you, scooching forward until every inch of your back was flush against his front.

“Let’s go, babe!” You said, before taking off down the street.

JJ gave you directions, steering you into areas of the Cut you had never been, which was saying something since you knew this town like the back of your hand.

Finally, he pulled up to a small cove, where you saw a small patch of sand. It was the farthest land towards the sea, meaning you would probably find the biggest waves.

“Holy shit, how did I not know this place existed?”

JJ grinned, bringing you to a small shack where a couple of boards were hidden from view in the foliage.

He handed you a board. “I’m full of surprises. Your hair smells nice, by the way.”

“Stop that!” You laughed.

“Stop what?”

You slapped him over the head. “Making me blush.”

“Don’t think I will.”

You rolled your eyes and simply unzipped your romper, ignoring the whistle from JJ as you stepped out in only your swimsuit. You laid the fabric over the handle of his dirt bike and turned towards him. He was still in his T-shirt and swim trunks.

“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”

JJ gave a shit-eating grin, “My, my, Y/L/N, at least take a guy to dinner first.”

You shoved at his chest. “No, you dumbass, I meant you can’t surf in that.”

JJ opened his mouth as if to say something before pausing and wrinkling his nose. “It’s just not a good idea for me today.”

“What did you eat a little too much? I can promise I’m not afraid of a food baby, Maybank, I can deal.”

JJ tried explaining before just giving up and pulling his shirt off, leaving you shocked and incredibly confused, not to mention concerned.

Bruises littered his body, beginning at his shoulder and ending far below his ribs. Involuntarily, your hand brushed his skin. “What the fuck happened, JJ?”

He shrugged. “S’my Dad, you know. Gets angry sometimes is all.”

You shook your head sadly. “You don’t deserve that.”

JJ laughed darkly. “That’s up for debate.”

You stomped your foot. “No, it’s absolutely not! No one deserves that, especially not you.”

JJ softened. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

He gave a small smile. “So you won’t make fun of me for not being able to keep up with you today? It’s only because I got my ass kicked, otherwise I’d surf circles around you all day.”

His words made you frown, but you recognized the coping mechanism and simply said, “Oh sure, Maybank. You know as well as I do that there’s not a world where you can surf better than me.”

He shrugged, walking towards the water. “I can sure as hell try, babe!”

Surfing with JJ was an experience on some whole other level. Sharing a wave was something even the most experienced surfers didn’t attempt, but something in you trusted JJ and the two of you tried it out. It was absolutely surreal, until JJ didn’t resurface.

Your euphoric smile quickly turned into a panicked cry. “JJ? JJ?!” You looked around and caught sight of him hanging on to his board, eyes closed. You swiftly untied your board from your ankle and swam over to him, pulling him towards you. He was like dead weight. You dragged him over to the shore and dumped him there, immediately leaning down to check his pulse.

You felt it clear as day, but tears filled your eyes. “JJ! Wake up!”

You began chest compressions immediately. Before you even got to ten, however, you heard a giggle.

Bewildered, you looked at his smiling face, his amused blue eyes laughing at you.

You instantly flinched away, retreating from him. “You were faking?”

JJ nearly choked on his laughter. “You-you should have—” He tried to breathe through the guffaws “—seen your face! Priceless!”

You slapped at his chest with your fists as he sat up, ignoring his slight winces given his prior injuries. “Ay, ay what’s up with that! Stop it, Y/N!”

“You bastard! I thought you were dying!”

JJ softened, before holding the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, leaning in to capture your lips with his. It was sweet and short and he pulled away quickly, asking. “Was that alright?”

You shook your head, pouting. “No, another!”

He smiled, but gave in to your pleas gleefully, his other hand coming over the front of your neck, pulling you closer to him by your throat. You bit his lip harshly, still angry from the stunt he had just pulled and his whined quietly, moving his hand down your spine, hands brushing the bare skin that your swimsuit exposed.

He lay back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You didn’t realize how much you had wanted this until you were doing it. You were kissing JJ Maybank. And it felt right. It felt as right as surfing did, maybe even better, you dared to think.

Maybe it was the fact that he kissed you like he had all the time in the world and didn’t care, because he was hungry right now. Maybe it was how he held you like he was afraid you would let go. Maybe it was how he managed to wordlessly beg for your skin on his, clearly touch-starved. Whatever it was, it solidified the growing feelings you had for the blonde, blossoming into something new, something stronger, something better, until you couldn’t hear any of your own thoughts other than his name--over, and over and over again.

When you finally broke that time, you smiled into his neck, trying to catch your breath. “Wow,” sighed JJ, “That was some kiss, babe. If you kiss me like that forever, I’ll die a happy man.”

You giggled, but sat up slightly, flicking his nose. You knew you had to get this awful, insecure doubt of yours out of your mouth right now before you let it fester into something that could ruin this beautiful thing you were creating with JJ. “If you ever break my heart, JJ, I swear to God, you better not cheat on me.”

He frowned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve wanted this forever. Can’t fuck it up now.”

You smiled, bending down for another kiss. JJ stopped you. “Wait. While we’re making promises, let me just say, if you ever get back with Kyle, I will sue.”

You thought the whole town probably heard your laugh then.

K so not my best work but hope y’all liked it!

Tagging @rretrophilee @jjsbxtch @drewsephsmiles @uwubonebabie bc we talked about it! You don’t have to read if you don’t want to lol 💛

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj #jj maybank x you #obx #jj imagines #jj imagine #jj x you #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj outer banks #obx jj #jj x y/n #outer banks imagines #outerbanks #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fluff

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mxargo · 3 years

Text

some days

spencer reid

summary: spencer takes his time with a girl that he thinks may be it for him.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of past deaths, spence being in prison, age gap of ten years. honestly lmk if I forgot anything.

word count: 2475

most of this is from spencer's pov

○○○○

some days are better than others, some make it and some don't. that's just how life is now. people get hurt, good people.

bad things happen to good people. good people who decide to live their own lives fighting other peoples wars just so they don't get hurt.

they're total strangers so why do it? why do others let themselves feel great pain just to save someone they don't know?

if we started questioning the good and their good intentions, there wouldn't be any left. that's why we don't do it.

when new cases come around, we push the why in the back of our minds and focus on the how. how are we going to save these people in time? and what if we don't? how many bad endings can occur during these cases before we start questioning our own sanity?

that's where spencer was.

questioning his sanity.

after prison, everything was different. he wouldn't want to admit that because it was the truth. a truth he wasn't yet ready to face, especially not by himself.

he saw the world differently, things he used to be able to do before just faded away in a locked compartment he built for himself in the back of his mind.

the part of him he'd never want to open. why do we do this? what happens if someone takes away the important. the reason he'd believe kept him steady.

his mother.

she wasn't well. he knew that to be true, didn't mean he liked to admit that.

he would defend her world without a thought of his own, but that tasks he kept only for himself is what started to strip him of what he once was.

thirteen years ago, the once smaller man who was so innocent. the man who just joined the bau thinking that this, this is my way out.

his way out of his mothers world. he loved her no doubt, no one needed proof for that but he wanted his own.

that's what he that he was doing when he met maeve. only knowing her for his own redemption, his migraines.

he wanted her. he loved her but he couldn't admit it. he didn't want to. if he told her he loved her everything he once built for himself would be gone.

she was being hunted and he couldn't handle any more loss he was sure to happen, and when she did die, It was like a part of his soul broke apart and fell deep inside his locked box.

after gideon died, he thought he'd almost lost it. in a way, he was like a father to him after his own abandoned him.

in some ways more than most, some days are better than others, some make it and some don't.

after he got realised for prison early, he went straight back to work. that's just the kind of man spencer reid was. he wanted to continue to help others even though he clearly needed the same for himself.

so when emily decided to send him home, he was alone again, and he wasn't used to living in something bigger than a 6x6 cell.

but it didn't feel very much like a home anymore. he knows what it used to feel like, a warm place away from the harmful rays of the terrible people outside his green walls.

he couldn't stay here, at least not right now. so when he left his apartment walking around dc, he started to realize what he was losing. his sense of happiness, and he'd do anything to get it back.

maybe if he did his house would start to feel like a home again.

♡♡♡♡

sitting in a small cafe sipping on the same coffee he's had for the last hour he started resembling the coffee to himself, he loved coffee. it was one of his favorite things in the world, aside from books.

but as now, he couldn't finish it. on any other days he'd at least be on his fifth cup by now having read already a few of his books.

but he didn't have any with him now. just him and his now half empty cold cup of back coffee. since when did he stop putting sugar in his coffee? was it before or after prison? what changed?

when did the sweet and softness in his like go away?

it was all his could think about now, which was a good thing come in handy, since thinking about what was really bothering could have ended up with him causing a scene in the same cafe he's been going to for the last two years.

it was a bit far out from his apartment but there was a girl here. a girl he like to watch, not in the senseless creepy way but he liked to watch her.

he liked the way you laughed, the way you smiled as you passed along coffee to other people. he loved the way you'd hum soft melodies to yourself as youd clean coffee stains of the counters. he loved the way youd listen to him on his rambles and ask him questions as you made his coffee. and the first time he met you, he knew he couldn't walk away forever, but it was all by accident.

walking into a cafe, he was in a hurry. it wasn't the same one he'd been going to that was across the street from where he lived but it was close now to where he was and he needed energy.

as he waited in the small line inside the small building, he realized there was only one person working there.

a girl.

she smiled at the elderly woman who was complementing on the younger womans earrings.

"those are lovely, I would've loved to wear those and walk around like you when I was as young as you. so beautiful"

and after that she couldn't stop smiling, but by that time it was my turn and she was attempting to revive my attention after I'd zone out.

"oh I'm sorry"

"don't be, it's alright. what can I get for you?"

her voice was so sweet sounding, intoxicating, in the good way. she sounded almost angelic. the kind penelope liked to remind us are the best of this world, and now that I've heard it for myself, I couldn't wait to see her and thank her for it.

but as I waiting on the other side of the counter as she made my cup, I didn't like the silence. I wanted to hear her again and the only thing I could think of was the same thing I always do, rambling.

coffee facts, of course.

"did you know that coffee is originally from Yemen?"

she looked up a me and when her eyes met mind, my heart felt like it was going to crawl out of my chest and land in her hands.

"I didn't"

"yeah, coffee is consumed in such great quantities, it is the world's 2nd largest traded commodity, surpassed only by crude oil. It is our most beloved beverage after water. It's worth well over $100 billion worldwide"

"that's interesting, I don't know much about it I've only been working here for a couple months"

"why are you working here?"

"just extra cash, figured I could use it if I want to graduate college"

college. that word kind of hit me like a truck.

she must be what then, twenty-two? I felt almost weird trying to get her attention more.

"I just turned twenty-three a few weeks ago and having to work five years instead of four has been hard"

I didn't know what to say by then. ten years. ten. that's the distance between us and it felt dreadful.

he never did it. he never asked her out or poked around to see if she was every seeing someone.

he wasn't hers and a part of himself hated that. but what would his friends say if they knew he was with someone so much younger than him.

they wouldn't be very supportive. he didn't need that from his family, but this one girl. shes the only one that's been able to get under his skin since maeve. the only girl hes been able to admit that he had feelings for, and strong ones because if they weren't. he wouldn't be going out of his way to walk four blocks away from his apartment everyday to see this one girl. if his feelings weren't real he wouldn't spend his time sitting in the cafe from the time it opened till it closed on the days that he could.

he just liked seeing her. and they were friends, he didn't think they were. they didn't talk as much as he wished but when she told him that he was her best costumer he figured everyone else had heard the same. but when she told him that she'd probably quit if she didn't see him everyday, he couldn't believe that she had cared for him that much.

"refill?"

hm?

"what? oh hey y/n"

"hey"

she smiled at me and looked around the table sending me back a confused look.

"no books?"

"oh um no. I forgot to bring some"

"you forgot?, I thought your brain was all mighty, never forgetful. I remember when you told me that I also should tell you I remember all the little gifts youd leave me"

"wha-"

"what? you didn't think I'd know it was you? I've known since I found a copy of gaspty on my car. youre the only one I told I'd accidentally ruined my old one"

"yeah.."

"are you doing alright spence? you've been here only an hour and no books and only one cup of coffee which I'm sure is cold by now"

by now she sat across from me pleading those very same eyes I'd fallen for two years ago at me.

"just in a bit of a mess"

"I know that your job is super hectic but I haven't seen you in three months"

how could I tell her? would she look at me differently? would she leave me alone?

"just work stuff"

"oh. well whatever it is, I'm sorry and I'm here for you. you know that right?"

"of course"

she smiled at me grabbing the coffee pot and ruffling my hair as she walked away.

being in prison reminding me of how much I loved her. how much I'd miss the way she'd sit with me after hours reading books with me and listening to my ramblings. it took me a bit to admit that I love her, but when I did I'd made a promise to myself I wouldn't let her go, but I wouldn't let her get hurt either.

by the time the cafe started to empty and the clock hit 9pm I'd notice her walk up to me handing me a book.

"I figured you could use it."

"thanks"

when she sat by me she didn't too close, giving me space but not too far where I couldn't feel her next to me.

"what's going on with you spence? I'm really worried about you"

"it's just work"

"you serious?"

"yes"

"then why don't I believe you?"

"I just-

"you can trust me. I care about you spencer. you disappeared for months and I just- I was worried something bad happened to you. at one point I thought you mightve-

died? I couldn't do that to her.

"no. no, I'm okay. sorta I guess. about a week ago I was realised from prison, I was framed for uh- murder"

that was the first time she bad been made speechless. she didn't say anything. she didn't look angry, or upset. just sad.

"I'm really sorry. why didn't- god I should've-

"should've what? there wasn't anything you could've done"

"I could have been there for you. I just- I feel like I should've been there thats all. your not alone, are you?"

sitting back, resting my head against the back of the booth meeting her eyes, I realised if I'd told her how I felt, i couldn't have anything else to lose.

"I have you"

she looked in my eyes for what I'm guessing is the answer to her confusion.

"what?"

"I have you. you're here. you always have been, and I'm grateful for it. I really am. i- I didn't know how to tell you before but I care for you. in ways I probably shouldn't. I don't know of this would work or not but if there is even a 1% chance there would I'm willing to take it. I love you y/n, I always have. since I met you. y'know I didn't normally go to this cafe. I live four blocks away from here. I came here on convenience and after I met you i couldn't stay away."

"I'm glad you didn't"

grabbing her hand, she didn't pull away.

"me too"

she pulled herself closer to me letting her head rest on my chest.

"you're such a good person. I hope you believe that. some days are better than others, some make it and some don't. i really want you to make it, and if youd let me, I'd really like to be here and help you with it, because I love you too and I like seeing you happy. I'm sorry for what happened to you, I know it wasn't your fault. I hope you understand that."

"I do now, thank you hon"

I could feel her smile again the thickness of my coat, I guess she just had that ability. and when she leaned up to kiss my cheek, I had pulled away.

"oh, I'm sor-

and when I kissed her. I stopped feeling guilty about how other people might feel about us. I stopped worrying about the fact that maybe one day, this might all blow over, but if it did, at least I'd known I'd done something about my feelings instead of wallowing in regret of what could've been.

derek once said that penelope was his god given solace, and the only thing I ever wanted was to find mine.

to be honest I believe I did.

I have her now, and hopefully it doesn't ever end. another reason to keep me steady other than my mother, and being hopeful for the both of us in whatever this will be wouldn't hurt.

she makes me feel things, things I've never felt before. I used to hate it, I used to want to make her take it away but now, it's all I cant think about and I don't believe i could ever let it go.

spencer reid finally found the one piece of his soul and he let y/n gracefully put it back into place.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n

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chocolate-parfait · 3 years

Note

Hiii! I saw that your requests are open, and I want to ask for a Mozart scenario 👉👈. MC/Reader (whichever you prefer) has gone back to her time for a long time (even tho she wasn’t planning for long) but when she comes back she also has Mozart’s kid in her arms (but everyone knows before him coz he is obviously at his piano lmao). So the residents plan to surprise him? If it’s too specific feel free to ignore this. Make sure you sleep sufficiently and drink some water😗😗 thank u in advance :)

Sorry it took me so long! I barely had the time to sleep this past month😳 I hope it was worth the wait-

A gift from Fate - Ikemen Vampire (Mozart)

“I don’t think we should listen in on them...” The cherry haired man whispered.

“Shh Ai-chan. Mozie-kun might hear us!”

“Tofu lover here is right, old Newt. And how could we pass up a chance of seeing that cold-hearted wolf shed a tear or two? It’s a once in a lifetime occasion!” Added the writer, resting his left hand on the scientist’s shoulder.

“Ugh, why did I even ask you two, of all people... Sebastian, tell them something already!” Isaac lamented once more.

“Unfortunately, Master Isaac, I’m afraid to say I’m quite curious myself to see Master Mozart’s reaction. It’s for scientific purpose, after all.”

“For what?” Nine pairs of eyes flew to the butler’s figure.

“Oh, nevermind that.”

"Leonardo, would you mind throwing your cigar away? They'll catch the smell of it" Comte’s placid tone filled the small space.

"What, you curious too, "Comte"? Heh, as his majesty desires" Leonardo complied, putting out his cigarillo against the ground with a dramatic gesture, gaining a displeased glance from the nobleman.

"...thank you. Oh, I believe he's almost there. Everybody, please be quiet."

As their sire spoke these words, all the vampires got closer to the small opening of the door. Some could barely see anything, but the wooden surface was thin enough to let any and all sounds reach the hidden listeners’ attentive ears.

The person that had them all hidden in a small storage room adjacent to the parlor was none other than Mozart. The love of his life had just returned from the future with a surprise of a companion glued to her side, but the man was yet to show his face. He had been, as always ever since her departure a couple of years before, focused on composing his tunes, now devoid of their old brightness and tempo, just like the composer himself.

It was as clear as day that, although his external composure remained unchanged, his heart had decided to freeze himself, a thick layer of frozen indifference to hide a pain akin to that of being torn in half, cruelly and mercilessly. Whenever he let his guards down even the slightest bit, he found himself on a battlefield over which time had no influence whatsoever, and where the ice and snow perfectly preserved the destruction and desolation born from his loss. The blood from a still fresh and open wound laid on the ground, as strong winds hit him with the warm whispers of a long-lost sun, nowhere to be seen.

That was the devastated state in which his being was left in, unaware of the sympathetic smile Fate was now offering him.

That day, a mysterious note found its way between the pianist’s hands, the words “Meet me at 18.00 in the parlor. It’s a matter of utmost importance” written in an impeccable cursive of other times, clearly belonging to one of the many inhabitants of the mansion. When it came to such intimate business, they usually preferred keeping a certain distance from unfolding events, but seeing the hesitation and fear of rejection on the woman’s face, they had all agreed to lend her a hand and give a little pull on the red string that connected the two lovers.

As punctual as ever, when the clock’s hands moved to the predetermined time, Mozart knocked stiffly on the door, finally making his entrance in the scene.

Barely two steps in the room and he found himself stuck in place, incredulous eyes fixed on the feminine figure in front of him. His violet eyes immediately found her face, and his body moved towards hers, attracted by an invisible force that had kept them tied to each other in spite of time and space. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, though his feverish dreams and hazy memories couldn’t hold a candle to the real her.

As impatience shook his body with a strong wave of trembles, with a quick movement he trapped her in a soul-crushing embrace that overflowed with all his longing and love; as his arms tightly caged her to his torso, he nuzzled her neck, finding her warm skin with the cold tip of his nose.

One deep inhale, then another. And another one.

She smelled divine.

Oh, how he had missed that dazzlingly sweet scent, those soft locks tickling his pale cheeks now flush with various emotions, that small pair of arms circling his body and squeezing him tightly. Was this a dream? Had he finally reached the afterlife for a second time? If so then he didn’t want to go back. If living in an illusion meant being with her then he was ready to throw away the real world with no second thoughts. But this, this was real. His mind had already acknowledged it, leaving the heart behind to process its own feelings.

“Meine Geliebte-” (my beloved)

“Mozart-”

They said in unison, voices mixing with harmony in a euphonious melody.

As he pulled back a little to look her in the eyes, a small voice came from behind her body. “Mama...” When Mozart lowered his eyes to meet the small figure’s, he was met with a small child, around 4 or 5 years of age. Before his thoughts could even reach the idea of betrayal, he couldn’t help but notice how every single feature, although still not fully developed, was a mixture of one of his and his lover’s own. The similarity was painfully clear, but once more the brain outrun the heart, and Mozart felt his heartbeat fall to his stomach.

“This is...” The woman started with a wavering voice, maybe from the emotion or perhaps because of insecurity. “This is our son, Charles.”

“Our... son...?” The pianist slowly repeated, trying to give more time to his now nearly-exploding heart.

Bending down to meet those violet orbs so similar to his own, he smiled fondly, reaching a hand out to slowly caress the boy’s head. As he did so, a myriad of realizations hit Mozart like a carriage running at full speed. He could not believe he had missed his son’s birth, his first steps, his first words. The fruit of their love, a life born out of their union. No amount of apologies and care could give him back all that, and the thought brought tears to his eyes.

“Papa! No leave Mama anymore!” The boy suddenly pleaded as he threw himself between his father’s arms. Oh, but of course he wouldn't. How could he? Not anymore. He wasn’t so stupid as to let that damned door separate them again, and not even God could part them anymore. But would the boy understand? He was but a stranger to him, and he did commit the terrible mistake of letting the only person he truly cared for slip away from his grasp once, so how could he blame him for having such thoughts?

“No, I won't. I promise you.” Placing a warm hand on his son's back, maybe as a way to seal his vow, he brought the small, trembling body closer to his chest, trying with all his might to instill in him the sense of security that only a father's embrace can give.

After silently witnessing the whole scene in solemn silence and stillness, smiles and some tears bloomed on the woman and the secret onlookers' faces. As the child shakily whimpered in his finally-found paternal figure's neck, his mother kneeled by his side, where Mozart's arm took her in as he pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. Their passionate reunion could wait for later that night, now all that mattered was being together, aware of each other's presence, warmth and smell. That was more than enough. “Thank you for coming back. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

Unfortunately for them though, an interruption soon came to disturb their peace. Low whispers came from behind the door, and the pianist's trained ear caught them with no effort.

"Woohoo, that was a good one, Wolfie!"

"Shouldn't we just go already? If he were to catch us he'd go on a rampage"

"Still, I wish I could give him a round of applause! It was really moving~"

Mozart turned his violet eyes, now chilly with cold annoyance, towards the source of the hushed voices, silencing them immediately. Though he would have to thank them for the note, he knew they wouldn't have let him hear the end of it with their teasing comments and jokes. Before his thoughts could take the highway to a possible massacre, Charles' brought his attention back to where it belonged.

"Papa... can you show me your piano?"

Such a simple request brought spring into his heart, once plunged into a state of eternal winter. Feeling his every cell overflowing with love and gratitude he simply nodded, adding: "Sure, shall we go?"

Well, his revenge could wait for later. Now he had a lot of catching up to do, both with his love and son, and making them wait longer was definitely unacceptable.

Perhaps Fate had truly decided to be a little kinder to him in his second life.

#my writing #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #wolfgang amadeus mozart #answered

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like-rain-or-confetti · 3 years

Text

Blackout (Edward Nygma x Reader)

WARNING: Mental Illness themes and mentions are strong throughout. Death!

"(Y/N)?" A nurse with a shrill voice said making you flinch and turn to face her. She was smiling, one that was rather malicious. That made you nervous as to what was her next words would be. "Doctor Strange wants to see you. I believe he has a new treatment for you." Your blood ran cold before draining from your face.

Just about every patient at Arkham has figured out that those who catch Dr Strange's attention either never returned or were never the same. You felt pairs of eyes on you, some over hearing, just by the very mention of his name got everyone's attention. It was like being in a slaughter house and you had no doubt that such an environment wasn't helping your mental state.

"No..." You said quietly, curling into yourself slightly as though it would change her mind. "Come now, (Y/N), you've been so good this past week. Don't you want to get better?" The nurse moved a hand to your shoulders, her grip tight but not painful. "It won't be long. By the time you're done, it'll be time for dinner. That's very soon." You still didn't budge. The nurse's demeanor changed ever so slightly, a bit of aggravation tugging at her. "(Y/N), do you really want to undo all of the hard work you've done and lose day time privileges? You'll risk solitary confinement and things will be a lot more difficult for you. This treatment is happening whether you like it or not!" You knew you couldn't push any further and so slowly you stood up and the nurses attitude changed to the once again pleasant nurse who gently guided you. Before she could nudge you out the door, you halted turning back to look at the other inmates within the cafeteria. "They're not going anywhere." The nurse assured you with another soft tug. You complied.

"What's with that one again?" Edward raised an eyebrow watching just like everyone else had as you left the room. "Well they don’t know, they have many theories but there's always something else that’s unexplained." Jonathan said smoothly. "Something else?" Edward raised an eyebrow. "They are aware of everyone's surroundings, better than ordinary." Jonathan explained. "What?" Two-Face furrowed his brow and Jonathan sighed. "Think of Arkham as a doll house and every person is a doll, (Y/N) knows what everyone is doing, what's happening even when they aren't there, a spectator to real life." "How can someone know what's happening when they aren't there?" Harvey pressed. "Well...security cameras if they had access but that's the point, how can someone know what's happening if they aren't there?" Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Oh I get it!" Harley suddenly spoke up. "They don't! They imagine it!" Jonathan gestured to Harley sending a pointed look to Two-Face. "So they daydream? That's it?" Two-Face said gruffly. "No, Harv! They stare at everyone, watching us all day long so they predict what we would do and where we'd go!" Harley continued. Two-face shook his head. "They say I'm crazy." "Crazy... or smart, smarter than many of the crazies in here." Jonathan responded. "I personally would say they're in a better position than most of these meat heads." Edward said. "Wow, complimenting someone other than yourself Edward? Looks like your treatment is working." Jonathan smirked. Edward scoffed. "Hardly! It's not difficult to outsmart these dimwitted goons. It's not even a challenge! If anything they've barely proven that they've got more than one braincell!" Jonathan sighed in response but Edward continued. "Besides, I would know, I'm the smartest man in Gotham! If not the whole world." "Oh clam it, bozo!" Harley rolled her eyes. "Now, now Harley...the clown many be in solitary but keep your cool." Jonathan said smoothly. "So I can sit here I listen to the cucumber spout Riddles and call me a dumb broad!?" "No one is calling you such things Harley." Jonathan responded all the whilst Edward gawked. "Cucumber!? Seriously!?" "Hey! Check the facts yourself, you wear green, your green with jealousy half the time when Batman is around and you’re made of mostly water! Now who's the dumb broad!?" "Harley, again, no one is calling you that. No one doubts your intelligence, we only doubt how willing you are to use it." Jonathan finished. Harley huffed.

You hurriedly looked around the room to find nothing out of place, the walls dirty and barely resembling the white painted walls. They hadn't been cleaned in at least a decade, grime filling every corner as well the random stains that likely had a grotesque story behind each one. No doubt the asylum blamed all of this on a lack of funding rather than admitting to Gotham city that the asylum isn't fit for purpose and hasn't been for years.

Dr Strange sat at a steel table in the middle of the room that was big enough for two people to work at either side. A bulb hung down from the ceiling which no doubt would explode any given moment just to add to the worn down Arkham aesthetic. "Ah, finally we meet at last." Strange's voice gave you the chills. You didn't look in his eyes, keeping them on your now seated lap. "Your name is (Y/N) (L/N), yes?" You nodded. "I'm told you have been very well behaved over the week. You've been working on social boundaries of sorts, yes?" "Do you mean not spying on people?" You asked. "Is that what you'd call it?" "No. It's what the nurses call it." You retorted. "I understand you were in some trouble when you broke in-" Dr Strange began but didn’t get to finish. "I didn't break in." You interrupted. "The door was open and I didn't break anything." "Yes, you left everything untouched, but nevertheless, you know you can't be in the security room. What were you looking for?" Dr Strange asked. "You know that." You retorted. "I need to hear it from you." Strange pressed. " I wanted to see the security cameras." "Why?" "So I could see what people were doing." You said flatly. "Do you know why you care so much?" Slowly, you shook your head. "That's your job though, right? Your job is to help me figure that out and move on?" You replied. He seemed to think about this statement momentarily. "Indeed. For now though, we are working towards really understanding your mind to get an idea of a diagnosis. I see in your file that there is mentions of multiple possible disorders?" You shrugged slightly. "Although this wasn't confirmed due to your...obsession." Dr Strange finished. "Is that what they call it?" You asked lightly. "No." Doctor Strange said flatly. "That's what I call it." Finally you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. "Dr Arkham missed the 'g' in 'diagnosis'." Strange looked at the file in his hand to realise there was that typo but wasn't certain how you could have seen it at such an angle. "Now, let's see about these blackouts." He began.

Dinner had come and gone and you hadn't returned, not that it surprised anyone at all. The expectation was that if you did return, you were lucky. Even if you had completely lost your mind.

At ten thirty, the lights were always out, other than the very dim ceiling lights that were solely for staff to maneuver in and out of the corridors without disturbing the patients. Despite lights going out at ten every week night (and at ten thirty on weekends), patients didn't actually go to sleep at that time. The staff didn't seem to care, as long as they were in their cells. That made the routine rather redundant in terms of creating a daily routine for the patients. So ten thirty rolled around and a nurse was pushing a patient on a wheelchair, seemingly back to their cell.

Harley wanted to have a look and recognised the patient. It was you, slumped over yourself and unmoving. Harley kept quiet, watching intently as you were wheeled past her cell. You were a lucky one. You had made it back here in the end.

You woke up the next morning with a very bad headache. It reminded you of your blackouts but judging by your 'treatment' that was likely the cause. Your limbs felt heavy, your brain working on empty. There was many times that you stumbled over yourself on the way to the cafeteria. The same nurse from yesterday was in charge and awaiting your arrival as she moved her attention from Harvey Dent to you. She immediately tugged you to sit next to Jervis Tetch. Across from you sat Jonathan Crane and Harvey Dent. You jumped slightly when Harleen Quinzell no so gracefully sat beside you. However the nurse kept your attention in her with a wide almost menacing grin. "Good morning, (Y/N)!" She said brightly. "How are you feeling today?" She was too happy and by far too loud. Her voice grated against your ears, making you wince though the pain if your pounding headache. "My brain has exploded and my heart is racing like a train." You grumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. "Oh is that so? Well, I'll get you some painkillers for that head whilst you have breakfast. How does that sound?" You grumbled with a nod, anything to get her to stop talking.

As she walked away, you rubbed your aching temples, eager for some kind of relief. "Oatmeal and toast, it seems to be today...as usual." Harvey grumbled. "My puddin' still ain't here!" Harley scowled, making you wince slightly. "Hey, do that one a favour and don't make such a fuss." Harvey gestured to you, sending Harley a look. "Give it a rest for today won't you?" Harley rolled her eyes. "Fine!" She turned to look at you with a sweet smile. "Sorry, dollface!" You nodded. "Don't worry about it, Harley." You groaned, putting your head on the cold table. "That bad, hm?" Two-Face asked. "I don't even remember what happened." You grumbled against the table. "My hands hurt. My head hurts...everything hurts." The nurse caught Jonathan's eye, she was briskly approaching that sadistic grin still on her face. "Well, your saviour and your hell is approaching. Someone actually did get you something after all." Jonathan nudged your side. You groaned. "Maybe it's rat poison." "It's pills by the look of it." "Arsenic then." "Here you are, (Y/N) dear. For all of your cooperation last night and as well as your behaviour." You picked up the glass of water in front of you as she handed you two pills. You cast a quick glance at Jonathan who was also looking back at you. "C'mon arsenic." You mumbled, popping them in your mouth. Jonathan smirked. He understood, you weren't the only one who thought Arkham Asylum was worse than death and hell combined. The nurse grabbed your jaw, opening your mouth and making sure the pills were gone before she left you alone. "Why wouldn't I take the painkillers if I'm in agony?" You asked dumbfounded. Jonathan shrugged. "Probably checking you still have that initiative." Two-Face smirked.

As trays of oatmeal were given out, you couldn't help but notice that whilst you had been sat with this particular group, one of them were missing. "Where's Edward?" You asked. "He's usually one of the firsts to get here." "He was put in solitary confinement." Jonathan said, making a look of disgust at the greyish, blob on his plate. "Solitary confinement? Why?" You asked. Two-Face shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe riddled one of the docs to death." He snickered. "He was taken for his own treatment, going crazy!" Harley grinned at the fond memory. "After some time, you were brought back to your cell and minutes later he was covered in blood and being almost dragged to Solitary Confinement." Harley explained.

You couldn't help but notice that during this time, Jervis hadn't looked up from his lap, not even so much as glanced at his food. Although you had been around long enough to know that Jervis had some days like this. Perhaps running around in wonderland in his mind. You turned back to Harley. "Blood?" "Yeah, news has it that two guards were killed a few rooms down. I say good on him. No idea he had it in him! " Two-face responded. "Damn...and I missed it." You said eyes wide. "You were out like a light when I saw ya!" Harley giggled. "You could have been that bozo's puppet and never had a clue!" "Who's?" You frowned. "The-The puppet guy! Y'know, talks through that puppet. Scar-face? Damn what's his name!?" "Arnold Wesker." Jonathan replied. "Yeah, him!" Harley said excitedly. You turned to the other side of the room.

You'd seen Arnold Wesker a couple of times but never actually spoken to him. Across from him was someone you were had spoken to many times. Peter Merkel Jr. Also known as Rag Doll. He was mostly known for being triple jointed, a contortionist. Well...rumour had it that being triple jointed ran in his family. A trait he didn't inherit and in the end, he supposedly had many life-threatening surgeries to allow his joints to move in inhuman ways. He could actually be a decent funny guy...once you got past his creepy communication skills. You turned back to the group around you.

"Group therapy today, shit I forgot." Two-Face said suddenly. "How could you ever forget such a momentous occasion?" Jonathan said sarcastically. "It's you, me and (Y/N) in this one. If Edward is there, who knows. Don't know about who the others will be though."

As each patient was situated in a seat within the circle of chairs, a guard approached you. "Hands out." He commanded gruffly as he took out hand cuffs. "Are you kidding me? For what?" You nodded to the cuffs as Dr Vern approached. He was one of the more patient and less brutal doctors who seemed to actually somewhat want to help patients, rather than torture them. Since observing that many times, you learned to somewhat trust him. Especially since he had treated you a couple of times and actually considered you a person. "It's just a precaution due to your therapy last night, (Y/N). I can assure you, it's nothing to worry about, they'll be off as soon as the session is over." He put a hand on your shoulder and you looked uncertain before showing your hands and wrists. You noticed Edward was getting the same treatment, looks like he made it out of isolation after all, even if it's only for a brief time. Although he was cuffed because he was in isolation and therefore deemed just as unpredictable.

Dr Vern sat on the opposite side of you and at the top of the circle. "Alright..." He hummed to himself as other inmates began to settle, whilst he looked at his clipboard. "...we have Arnold Wesker, Peter Merkel Jr, Edward Nygma, Harvey Dent, (Y/N) (L/N), Jonathan Crane, Victor Zsasz ...Jane Doe and last but not least, Roman Sionis." He looked over everyone with a small smile. "How is everyone today?" "Is that a legitimate question?" Edward huffed. "Of course, it is. It's the whole point of these sessions." Dr Vern responded. "Honesty is encouraged, there is no wrong answers." "Well then, I've felt like crap all day and to top it off, I'm now handcuffed." You grumbled. "I know, (Y/N). As I said, it's only a precaution whilst we wait to see if your treatment worked. Please don't take this as a punishment, you've been doing so well as of lately." Dr Vern turned to his right. "Roman, how are we doing today?" "Everyone is wearing their masks today." Roman responded quietly, as though distracted, not entirely present in the room. "You've been keeping to yourself, more frequently lately. Are you feeling okay?" Dr Vern pressed. "Yes, doc. In truth there is nothing new with me. Although that shouldn't be a surprise when it's clear that I am not insane." "Yes, so you've said but unfortunately your results say otherwise. Psychosis, remember?" Dr Vern responded. Roman grumbled. "Whatever." "Forgive me, Doctor but I can't help but notice Jane is here." Edward narrowed his gaze on the masked woman across from him. "We all know she doesn't respond as herself and hasn't said a word since she's got here. So pray tell, why exactly is she in a group therapy session where the whole point is to talk?" Jane continued to look down at her lap as though she hadn't heard anything. Her mask covered her entire head. She had two, that were known, this one was Arkham's 'finest'- hardly of her collection. Accommodations were made for her after discovering she tended to become violent and otherwise catatonic without a mask. So whilst she was usually in a straight jacket, they kept the mask on, she was more cooperative with it. Arkham figures it would be a process that eventually shed no longer need the mask. You begged to differ. You were willing to bet that it's simply Arkham giving her exactly what she wants. She was good like that, you admired it. "Jane is more than welcome to these sessions, Edward." Dr Vern responded, almost scolding in his tone. "She is more than welcome to break her silence at any time and if being here encourages her then she'll have overcome a great milestone. Leave her be." Edward rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Dr Vern looked towards Peter Merkel Jr, who wore a ghost of a smile on his face, all the while, his eyes wide. "Hello Peter, I haven't seen you in a while. How are you doing today?" Peters head flopped to Dr Verbs direction. "Hello, Dr Vern. I am doing just fine." His tone dripped in sarcasm. "I assume you are still in a lot of pain. Have you received those ointments today?" Peter hummed, rolling his shoulders further back than should be humanly possible. Then again, Merkel went through a lot of surgeries to make sure of that. "Yes, but only recently." "Ah, I see. Well, I'm certain you'll begin to feel better soon. What have you been doing since I last saw you?" Dr Vern asked. Peter hummed again. "Nothing. Staying in my cell. If not there-" Peters head snapped to look at you with his wide eyed smile. "- I've spent most of my time with (Y/N)." "I see. Are you two friends?" Dr Vern asked looking between you both. You shrugged. Peter responded. "Sure. Something like that. They are very intriguing." Dr Vern nodded as he scribbled on the clipboard, immediately you tried to see what he was writing, the cuffs making a clang.

It was like an impulse, you had to know what he had written. Whilst you were excellent at keeping secrets, things went south if you were kept in the dark about anything, even the tiniest of details. Peter's grin widened in amusement and Dr Vern looked up at you. "It's alright, (Y/N). I'm just noting down what Peter has said. It's good progress for the both of you. If you two don't mind, might I ask Peter a question about this new friendship?" Your eyes narrowed but sat back on your chair whilst Peter agreed. "Peter, I hope you're encouraging (Y/N) to continue this good behaviour and not reduce it." Peter cackled. "That is your job, Doctor! I neither encourage one or the other. They appreciate my talents and I appreciate theirs." Doctor Vern didn't seem to like that answer much but continued. "(Y/N), why don't we move on to you? We have a lot to talk about." Dr Vern leaned forward in his chair. "You say you weren't feeling well this morning?" "Yes." You responded simply, shifting your wrists in the cuffs. "Describe it to me." Your face contorted as though remembering something suddenly. "What time is it?" Dr Vern caught on immediately. "I'll tell you after today's session, (Y/N). That's not important right now." "Yes, it is. I need to know." You insisted with slight panic. "No, you don't." Doctor Vern responded. "There's no need to be anxious, (Y/N). It's not necessary." "It is to me. You-you know that." You said shakily, fidgeting. "I'll strike you a deal, hold off for as long as you can, I guarantee by the end of the session you will know the time." Dr Vern responded. The distress was sudden upon your face, as you shifted against your cuffs. "Looks like the doc is gonna make them cry." Two-Face smirked. Dr Vern ignored him as your knees bounced with anxiety, looking almost uncontrollable. "(Y/N), focus of me." Dr Vern said soothingly. "I know why you want to know. The treatment has had you a little foggy and you've remembered about others outside of this room. You're trying to pin point where they are what they could possibly be doing. That's why you want to know the time. I promise you, you're stronger than the urge to know. You've not known all morning and everything is fine. Push through this urge." "Oh, now I get it." Jonathan thought aloud. "Put some volts in them and who knows what else you did to them last night and then torture them now. Very helpful indeed, doctor." "Jonathan, that's enough." Dr Vern looked at Jonathan. "You're agitating them." "Of course, they're agitated!" Edward said loudly with a roll of his eyes. "You'd think you'd take it easy on them after all that but no let's push them and wonder why they lash out! Morons!" "Both of you. Enough." Dr Vern said sternly. "You're encouraging them whilst I am trying to reason with them."

Suddenly, your shaking stopped. You leaned back into your chair once more, oddly stoic. The shift was most definitely noticed by everyone in the room. "What's going on!?" Scar-Face snapped. "This'll be good." Two-Face smirked whilst Peter giggled with glee, eyes wide and unblinking. "It's between eleven and twelve. We haven't had lunch yet. Group therapy always happens at that time." You said quickly, answering your previous question. Dr Vern blinked with unease. "Alright, good. You've got your answer, now lets-" Suddenly, you spoke again, staring at nothing whilst your words came out rapidly."If it's eleven fifteen- the nurses will be going for their coffee break. Nurse Jill will be sneaking away with William Dean, the guard for the other ward probably for a quickie in the closet. If it's eleven thirty, Nurse Gillian will be preparing the next round of meds and wondering just where the hell Nurse Jill went." "Stop it." Dr Vern said quickly. Jonathan and Edward couldn't help but smirk at you but you didn't seem to notice anyone, lost in your own head. “If it's eleven forty-five, Nurse Jill will be hurrying back to her post before Doctor Strange leaves his office to head for the staff room for his own coffee. No milk, no sugar. Then he'll take a detour for the cameras, have a look at what we're all doing whilst Dr Vern rounds up today's group session, before Edward and I get the cuffs removed, we'll all be led to the cafeteria. Then Dr Vern will call his wife, and not get an answer, especially when his erratic patient reveals that his precious Sandra has been sleeping with the neighbour, fourteen blocks away. No doubt he'll rush home because he can't ignore what his patient said-" "(Y/N), enough!" Dr Vern snapped in anger whilst you finished your sentence "-even though he'll lose his temper at his patient." You finished in unison with Dr Vern's outburst.

After a moment of silence, Dr Vern finally spoke. "You know where I live?" You smiled simply. "Of course. The security room isn't the only place I can get into. Dr Arkham's files are more than interesting to read. Although I'm certain he has just as many mental issues as the rest of us." "You've been sneaking in there too? Where the Asylum's files are kept?" Dr Vern asked. "Would you like to know the combinations for the locks?" You asked lightly. "You're asking for isolation, (Y/N)." He earned in response. "Am I? It says on your clipboard that I only get isolation if I black out." You shrugged. "I am perfectly conscious. Whilst I'm at it, that is not how you spell my last name." You said flatly. "See? Fun." Peter grinned at Victor Zsasz. "Now how about you don't put a recommendation in for another one of those nasty therapy you wrote down next to my name. My head is foggy as it is and I don't want to be a vegetable." You wagered. "So you can see what I've written?" Dr Vern stared you down. You smiled. "First, you can spell my name right, then you can score out that recommendation and then you can stop pressing me about every little thing I do or else I will do a lot more than prove how much I know. I'll also prove how I can use all of that really screw up your life." Dr Vern's eyes narrowed on you. "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means, your life wouldn't be the first persons I've ruined. My family tries to keep that quiet, pay off anyone who will speak out but not even they weren't safe in the end." Dr Vern was quiet for a moment. "You were doing so well, (Y/N). We had really really hoped you wouldn't ruin all this good behaviour. So is this what you were doing last night? Spying with the security camera's again when you were supposed to be in bed?" Your face changed to confusion. "What?" "You were found out of bed with Mr Nygma last night. Have you been pretending all this time?" "I wasn't out of bed." You glared. "Ignore him, (Y/N)." Edward spoke up. "What do you mean I was out of bed!?" You glowered. "(Y/N), leave it." Jonathan said quieter. "No!" You said sharply. "You've already asked me about the incident and I told you what happened!" Edward glared at Dr Vern, ignoring your protest. "What happened!?" You snapped. "You and Nygma were found covered in blood last night." Dr Vern responded looking between the two of you, his pleasant demeanor long gone. "Two staff members were killed in that very room you were found in." "They deserved it!" Edward snapped. "They were hurting them!" "You expect anyone to believe that you defended (Y/N) and effectively killed those two people when you've shown almost no interest in (Y/N) before?" Dr Vern asked lightly. To his surprise, Jonathan responded. "I do. Your staff members are deplorable. I speak through experience on both ends. I think (Y/N) to be very lucky Edward was there." "Too right!" Harvey agreed. "The shit that goes down in this place is downright evil and that's coming from us!" Edward's jaw clenched. "Besides, (Y/N) was in an absolute state after that so-called ‘therapy’. They were wandering around and those two guards were going to take advantage of that. I would know since they were supposed to take me to my 'treatment' and suddenly (Y/N) wanders by and the things those men were saying... disgusting! I intervened the moment I saw that (Y/N) was beyond confused and dazed and instead growing distressed!" "Forgive me, doctor." Roman spoke up. "Isn't it Arkham's finest of staff's job to ensure the safety of all patients?" "Of course, it simply adds to the poor reputation of this place that they simply do not. So much so that other patients have to step in." Jonathan responded with a smirk. Your gaze was locked into Edward as you struggled to believe the story.

He was narcissistic at the very least and didn't spent much time on you. Edward Nygma just didn't strike you as the saving type and you would have known if that was the case.

You were waiting for Edward at this point to come out of isolation. You had asked almost every one Edward spoke to in the asylum. No one seemed to know anything and even confirmed your suspicions, Edward wouldn't just jump in to save an inmate but for whatever reason Edward had to lie, they'd support it.

When Edward got out of isolation it was like a tease, you barely saw him, Arkham staff doing it's best to keep you apart. However whilst this was irritating, it got to a whole new level when Edward’s associates seemed to know exactly what had happened and weren't willing to share. Just the thought made you tremble, that Edward and his friends knew what really happened that night...and you didn't have a clue.

You usually had taken satisfaction when Dr Vern handed in his resignation, he had to now that he knew how much you knew about his life. However, you noticed how disheveled he was and it dawned on you he must have confronted his wife. Dr Vern couldn't ignore such accusations, you knew that. It would have chewed away at him but you didn't get to enjoy the satisfaction. Not even when he glanced at you with unease when quitting. You couldn't enjoy it because your own thoughts were chewing away at you. You needed to know what happened that night and the longer you didn't get answers, the more drastic measures you'd take.

By Saturday morning, you couldn't take it anymore. Perhaps it was a lack of sleep, or indigestion...or it was the question that had been tearing you apart for days. You knew you'd have to force Edward to talk. He was incredibly intelligent, he didn't slip up or give things away like the others did and in that moment, it simply drove you mad.

When Edward locked eyes with you, his stomach dropped. To put it simply, you didn't look well. Clearly you hadn't been sleeping, there were dark circles under your eyes and you slightly curled into yourself, as though barely having the strength to hold your body up. Edward also couldn't help but wonder if you had been eating. From what he had seen you were in a foul mood, nearly getting yourself isolation multiple times. Each time Edward, Jonathan and Two-Face got you out of it.

"Alright (Y/N), you can calm down now. Jervis picked up your book by mistake." Edward had said once, sliding the book towards you before you could get into serious trouble with the nurses. It seemed to distract the nurse more than it did you and his action, yet again caught you off guard.

The second time he set off Harley, distracting the nurses, all because he insulted the joker who had still not gotten out of isolation.

Your piercing stare could have surely killed him if he hadn't been across the room. He knew immediately that you were hitting your breaking point and so when you stormed off, he followed.

You led him to an empty lab. A lab with no camera. That left Edward on edge but held onto the fact that you were still very much coherent. The empty glazed over look in your eyes like that night was far away. "Do you know that I killed two people in a blackout once?" You asked, your back still towards him. "Yes." Edward responded.

Many Arkham patients had murdered. So much so that two was virtually nothing in comparison to the number that many inmates had, Edward included. "Do you remember when I first got here?" You asked. "Yes. You weren't responsive for four days. The one that got you to break your silence was Dr Vern." You were impressed although not so surprised that Edward knew so much. Of course he knew. "I couldn't believe what I had done. When they told me my father and stepmother were..." You looked over your shoulder. "They put me in here, undiagnosed as well as not knowing a motive as to why I'd ever murder my father and the one woman who had been the closest thing to a mother I had ever had." You blinked back a memory. "I don't know why they painted such a picture that those two were so wonderful. They weren't." "Reporters and the justice system love their innocents." Edward replied in disdain. "My parents weren't innocent. If the GCPD looked a little further. They'd have known the motive." You finally turned to face him. "Why?" Edward asked. "Because they deserved each other." You responded icily. "They were committing fraud, wanting the extra money and expected me to play along regardless of how nice they were to me. They began to put their problems on me, expecting me to fix them. They never thought about what that could to do their kid." You swallowed. "Every mistake they made, I was blamed. To the GCPD I was a difficult child, it wasn't that my step-mother was trying to steal multiple bottles of alcohol and convinced me to carry them in my bag. Every single time, my parents chose each other, every time it was at my expense and I never got even as much of an apology. That's what I was there for. To hide their mistakes, I was to play the problem. So I accepted that. I accepted this is what they wanted, what they deserved. It hadn't been the first black out I had but it was the most brutal. Their bodies were side by side." Your gaze met Edwards eyes. "I couldn't forgive myself when I found out what I had done. I didn't speak a word after that, not until that day after some time here. Dr Vern was the first, as you said. Look where that got him." You couldn't help but smirk. "I actually liked the guy but, I knew where his loyalties lie." Your smirk vanished, your brow creasing. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I don't know what happened that night Edward but you do and you lied to Vern, you lied to Strange and you're lying to me. You're getting your friends to do it too." "(Y/N)-" You cut Edward off. "No!" You said sharply. "I want the truth. I need it. You're going to give me the truth."

Edward stayed silent. "Damn it, Edward!" You snapped, digging into a drawer behind you before pulling out a very large syringe. "Don't do this." Edward said lowly. His hands raising slightly to calm you. "You know something I don't!" You snapped. He thought this over. "I know many things you don't." "You know what I mean!" You yelled. "You didn't care before. Why now? What changed? Are you using me?" "No...no, I'm not." Edward said. "Then what is it!?" You cried. "Put that down and I'll tell you." Ed nodded to the syringe in your hand. You looked at the syringe before back at him as he hesitantly took a step closer. "Give me the syringe and I'll tell you." "You won't lie?" Edward shook his head. "I have no reason to."

After a couple of seconds you dropped the syringe and it clattered to the floor. Edward immediately lunged, taking your hands and pulling you into his arms. You gasped, panic setting in. The Riddler was one of the most dangerous people in Gotham and he could kill you in a heartbeat. Although it took you a moment to realise that he was simply holding you to him, almost like an embrace. A quiet voice, almost a whimper escaped him. "They were hurting me." He began and you heard a slight quiver in his voice. "They were hurting me and you helped me. I know you don't remember that night but I do."

Edwards plans for the night didn't include electric shock therapy. Regardless if it was Arkham's so he kicked and screamed creating a fuss along the way. The more he struggled, the more assistance was needed. He had even caused a few other patients to cry out from their cells, a minor but pestering bother for Arkham staff.

By the time they reached the room with the chair, the guards had enough and immediately surrounded him for a beat down. Edward curled into a ball, covering his head and ribs as much as he could as doctors and nurses hurried away from the room. Typical.

Suddenly there was a yelp that didn’t come from Edward, everyone seemed to freeze, Edward looking up to see what had happened. One of the guards were stunned, frozen in shock, staring at the other guard who looked horrified. In his neck was a syringe of what was previously a sedative for Edward. The thumb pressed down, plunge the contents into his neck. A laboured breath escaped the guard before he fell to the ground before Edward, who was slightly alarmed and wondering just how strong that sedative was, if it even was that. The hand had been yours, eyes glazed over and very still.

Without warning, as soon as your eyes locked on the other guard, you lunged towards him. He had no time to process what had happened or even prepare himself for the attack. He fell to the ground, you on top as you ferociously beat his face with your hands. Your strength was astounding and it was the clearly why you were such a threat. You were like an deranged animal, it wasn’t enough even when he was out cold. Edward wasn’t even sure if the guard was still alive. However, you moved onto the next guard just as quickly. Perhaps you hadn't noticed him.

He stood corrected when you halted your attack and turned your sights on him. Slowly he stood up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. You followed suit, your eyes still wide and empty. Slowly you moved forward. Edward went to move back but something blocked his path. He felt panic run through him but did his best not to show it. Something he often did with the Bat. Although you didn't lunge, as a matter of fact you were incredibly slow.

You seemed to notice his pain. Edward stiffened as you slowly wrapped your arms around him. You were so gentle he didn’t even entirely feel the hug. He looked down at you, your head resting against his chest. You were looking at the ground as though feeling guilt. In that moment, Edward took charge. ”Give me your hands.” He said quickly. He did his best to wipe the blood from your hands and onto his own as well as his arms. Edward always did have a soft spot for you. He never allowed it to show but he couldn't deny it to himself that it was there. So in the moment you had saved his life, he knew he had to protect you. No one had ever helped him yet you had, whether it was consciously or not didn't matter. If he didn't do something you'd wake up in isolation with possibly even more deaths.

Edward knew you better than you thought, killing wasn't something you were proud of. You didn't want to add more to the list. So maybe in this way, he was protecting you just as you had protected him. Edward also noticed something that seemed to trigger your violent tendencies. It was violence itself. If you witnessed it, it seemed to drive you to be violent to the point of deadly. So he took the fall for it and eventually, they seemed to buy his story and take you back to your room. Throughout all that time, you didn't speak a word and the next morning you didn't remember a thing. Just as suspected.

"I couldn't tell you." He said, looking into your eyes. You had never seen him so vulnerable. "I couldn't risk Strange finding out. It was better for you if everyone thought it was me." "Why? Why protect me?" You asked. "Because you protected me...such a thing is very hard to find in Gotham." "I...I killed those people." You whispered and Edward nodded. "You saved my life." He corrected.

#batman #gotham #the riddler #edward nygma #arkham #arkham asylum #one shot #oneshot #warning

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yukiwrites · 3 years

Text

Kiran, Categorizing

Thank you for the support and patience as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This was so funny to write, I hope you like it!

Summary: Bored during a meeting, Kiran started to sort some of the heroes in a way that he had only done back in his own world, in social media... Now, Sharena, Alfonse and Anna seemed interested in the magical world of the... himbos.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Kiran’s workload after he was summoned to Askr kept increasing exponentially as the war against various kingdoms dragged on. There were many Heroes to keep track of and many different powers coming to play, so he always had to be careful when suggesting a team or a strategy.

Of course, he couldn’t deny that sometimes he made team compositions mostly based on personal preference or how the heroes would interact with one another rather than how well they complemented each other’s strengths, but he never sent those out to dangerous missions, so he liked to keep that to himself.

Take the meeting going on at that moment, for example; he was shuffling through a list of buff-looking heroes to form a team to explore whatever had been going on inside the Illusory Dungeon. No one knew for certain when phantoms of heroes and compelling songs would start appearing and playing there, but whenever lights shone inside it, Kiran formed one of those teams based on his own preferences just to hear the reports once they came back.

Well, the meeting wasn’t solely for this situation as Anna, Alfonse and Sharena were sitting on the round table around Kiran while talking strategies about the many other skirmishes happening in the country. There were some heroes who still had to go to the Training Tower, so the smallest pile of papers by Kiran’s left was a list of those; there were also heroes raring to go explore the Aether Islands, so the second smallest pile was full of requests from them; there had also been reports about suspicious movements in the woods nearby, so some nimble heroes were needed…

There was a lot to do, so Kiran was taking his time to at least form a team he found funny instead of drowning in the weight of his responsibilities like it usually happened to Alfonse. Kiran looked up from the paper in front of him to the sick-looking prince, raising an eyebrow at how intently he stared at a report.

“Alfonse, maybe you should take a break. You’re looking whiter than your own clothes.” Kiran’s hoarse voice from talking all morning made the prince blink and shake his head.

“I couldn’t possibly take a break at an important time such as this-”

“C’mon, Alfonse, Kiran’s right.” Sharena patted her brother’s shoulder, her face still full of energy as though she wasn’t tired at all from sitting at that table for hours. “Let’s go stretch our legs! I’ll come with you.”

Once again Alfonse shook his head. “No. As I said, I can’t cut the meeting short just for this.” He shifted his tired gaze from his pouty sister to the Summoner, “were you almost finished with the team for the Illusory Dungeon, Kiran?”

“Hm? Ah, yeah. I wanted a team of himbos, so I figured Raphael, Arden, Draug and maybe Shiro…? I was torn between him and Chrom, but perhaps Chrom isn’t really one…” Kiran mumbled the later half of the sentence, frowning slightly at the personal files of Chrom and Shiro as though he could find the answer there if only he stared long enough.

Anna raised her finger to ask, but then gave up on it, shaking her head. Sharena didn’t, though.

“Eh? What’s a ‘himbo’, Kiran? Is it something you use to sort the heroes? Or does it have to do with how strong they are?” The princess’ eyes shone, while her brother beside her looked confused yet intrigued.

Snorting, Kiran had to avert his eyes for a moment, wondering how he could have said that out loud. An internet lingo he had used back when he still had social media (though still pretty accurate to categorize people) now came up in this kind of situation. Kiran cleared his throat, fighting back a smirk.

“Well, yeah, it can be considered something to sort them based on how strong they look. A man is only a himbo if he has three characteristics: He has to be buff, kind, -- to everyone, though especially to women -- and stupid. If he’s missing even one of these, he can’t be considered a himbo.”

“Wha-” Anna frowned, placing one hand over her mouth to hide a snort.

Alfonse and Sharena, however, were appalled.

“S-stupid? That’s kind of mean to say about the heroes, though?” Sharena deflated like a sad balloon, sitting back after getting up in excitement about a new word.

“Truly, I- I never expected you to talk about them like this, Kiran.” Alfonse looked more offended than anything, as though all of the built-up trust they had shared had shattered.

Kiran pressed his lips into a thin line, almost unable to stop himself from laughing out loud. “No, I mean it in the best way possible. Look here,” he picked up Raphael’s file, which had a picture of him smiling wide and warmly, “this is the peak example of a himbo. He’s not book-smart nor does he have street-smarts, but his heart? It's as wide as the ocean. He’s kind, but without any ulterior motive, and he’s really, really big and buff.”

Sharena’s jaw dropped in shock, processing the information as Alfonse twitched his eyebrows. “But why refer to him as ‘stupid’...? That’s rather insulting.”

Kiran shrugged. “Well, it’s just the fastest way to call someone who doesn’t have much -- if any -- smarts in them, isn’t it? Look at this one here.” He pulled a file from a nearby pile, lifting it for them to see. “Tibarn here, he’s buff and kind, but he has smarts. You can see many thoughts going inside his head,” different from the zero braincells Raphael seems to have, Kiran thought to himself as he swallowed a snort. “So he’s not a himbo, but a hunk.”

“Alright, I’ll bite, “Anna managed to say after properly managing not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “So a himbo has those three characteristics, a hunk is a muscular and kind man. So what of the other combination? If they’re kind and… lacking in smarts?” She asked, barely containing a smirk from sprouting, which mirrored Kiran’s.

“Well, that’s just a decent man, I suppose.” He coughed out, trying to mask a snort as Anna threw her head back in laughter, unable to hold it back anymore.

“Pfft-aahaha! This is new!” She laughed loudly, taking shaky breaths to stop herself from crying as she dried her eyes with one hand. “So, since when have you been ranking the heroes like this?”

Catching her laughter, Kiran shook in amusement for a bit before glancing at the confused royals. “Since before I was summoned here, I suppose. It’s a ‘sorting technique’ used back in my world.”

Sharena’s eyes sparkled once again. “Well, if we can not say that they’re stupid, then I think it’s a good sorting! They have a big heart and big bodies, right? It doesn’t matter that they don’t understand the world around them, just that they’re ready to accept everything at face value!” The princess looked up as though she had made the discovery of the century, while Alfonse beside her crossed his arms to think.

If it was something from another world, Kiran’s world especifically, it was worth giving it a try, was it not? Perhaps if they applied themselves, they’d be able to sort the heroes more efficiently and cut back the time for these meetings so they could focus their energy elsewhere…

“As I was saying, I was in doubt about Chrom because, look: he’s buff enough, though not as big as, say, Draug; he scores high in kindness; but he has SOME smarts… Although he’s impulsive, it’s not like his brain is empty like- ahem, it’s not like his heart is as big as Raphael’s or Shiro’s.”

Not hearing the insulting part about the heroes’ smarts, Sharena nodded in compliance, thinking deeply. “Hmmm, I don’t think I can help in this right away. Can you give us more examples?”

“Sure, look here,” Kiran turned the pile by his left to Sharena. “Hinata, he’s a jock. He’s buff enough, but he’s not really kind and he’s kinda brusque, right?” Kiran held back the ‘he lacks brain cells’ part, saying it only with his eyes to Anna, the only one who truly understood him in all of this. “On the other hand, Stahl… is just a decent guy. He’s kind and although he has some smarts, he’s not buff, so he doesn’t fall into this category.”

“Hmmm, so do you think Owain could be one? He’s stup- ah, lacks smarts enough and he’s a good guy. But he- ah, yeah… perhaps not.” Anna started, but then stopped herself after comparing Raphael’s muscles to Owain’s. “Isn’t this kind of sorting way too specific? I don’t think many heroes fall under the ‘himbo’ category.”

Kiran nodded solemnly, as though they were talking about some important strategy. “Indeed. It’s very hard to find a true himbo, as they’re extremely rare. Hence why I was having trouble with the Illusory Dungeon team.”

“I see… It sounds really important.” Sharena nodded, basically accepting that this was something that went way over her head and tried to catch up in her own way. Alfonse still had mixed feelings about it, but the more seriously Kiran and Anna talked about it, the more he felt like he was in the wrong for finding something iffy about the sorting method in the first place.

“For example, Linus… if only he was a bit kinder, he would be another prime example of a himbo.” Kiran said over Sharena’s mumbling, sighing wistfully. “Lex would also be a good one, but he’s too smart to be a himbo.”

“Oh, I know! What about Keaton? He seems perfect!” Sharena raised her voice as her eyes glanced at one of the lists around Kiran.

The Summoner and Anna exchanged glances. “Not enough muscle.”

“Ah…” Sharena sat back with a pout. “This is really hard…”

“Yeah…” Kiran scratched his temple in thought.

In the following silence, only Alfonse’s voice could be heard after a few minutes. “... Isn’t Lord Hector one, though? From those examples…”

Kiran widened his eyes, jumping out of his seat with a bang. “That’s it! Alfonse, you’re a genius!” He praised, quickly shifting through the files to find Hector’s. “Do you have any more suggestions?”

Taken aback by the sudden cheer, Alfonse gulped. “Um, I thought about Helbindi, especially according to what Princess Yglr told us about him…”

“Hmm… A rare tsundere himbo, huh… perhaps?” Kiran took one hand to his chin in thought, mumbling something under his breath. “Alfonse, you’re on the right track! C’mon, keep the ideas coming!”

“Brother, you’re no fun, you picked it up so quickly! Tell me more!” Sharena protested, manhandling Alfonse into fessing up how he understood Kiran’s vague explanations so well.

Anna snorted under both hands as her shoulders shook from suppressed laughter, wondering how the hell they had ended up talking about that in the middle of a meeting.

Regardless, the topic was too much fun to be ditched now that the four of them were eagerly exchanging suggestions and adding more himbos to the pile, so no one noticed that the important meeting they were having was now a himbo-selection tournament.

Perhaps after night fell, they would come back to their senses, but for now, the Commander, the two royals and the Summoner threw heated debate against one another regarding the amount of intelligence this or that hero possessed.

#fire emblem heroes #feh #anna fire emblem #alfonse fire emblem #sharena fire emblem #my writings #yuki's commissions #kiran fire emblem

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