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dabifixation · 3 years

Text

the importance of knocking

dabi x fem!reader

summary: When Dabi told you to wait at the bar because he was going to "Take care of things" you shouldn't have humored him. You shouldn't have gotten drunk on a mission. And most of all you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling by looking for the blue flame user and discovering exactly what he meant by taking care of things.

warnings: nsfw, smut, voyeurism, unprotected sex, squirting, MINORS DNI

word count: 2.4k

You really didn't like villains. They were temperamental bigots who were hard to work with and cared very little about their environment.

Blue eyed, flame wielding, two-toned nuisances were not the exception to this.

If anything, having Dabi tag along on your mission didn't really help with your dwindling impression of the man.

Said mission was going downhill very fast, losing your chance to achieve funds from your organization's formidable benefactors, all because somebody thought it was funny to set Mr Park's hair on fire after the man passed a comment on somebody's unprofessional attire.

You hated him for that. Truly hated him. However you knew he wasn't just messing up your mission for his own amusement. You weren't stupid, you knew a field test when you saw one. This mission was set up to see how well you'd do now that the Meta Liberation Army was under siege from the League of Villains. Dabi was your examiner.

And you failed the test.

So it came as a surprise to you when the bane of your existence suggested that he'd take care of things, which made you wonder if he was a comedian in his past life cause what could he possibly do to fix things.

You spent the next hour by yourself with an endless supply of whisky in hopes of coming up with a good plan in order to leave Japan undetected.

When the next hour passed by you began to wonder where your flame wielding partner went and how long he'd be. You were convinced that he was just hunting down one of the benefactor's and stole their suitcase filled with money. But you doubt killing someone took a full two hours, so you began to worry.

Not for him of course. That would be out of character for you. You were just worried about disappointing Shigaraki by coming empty handed and not on time. At the end of the day, you were a sucker for praise and didn't mind getting it from someone who ruined the goals and reputation of the Meta Liberation Army.

You had a serious problem.

Checking your wristwatch one last time, you decided now was a good time to phone Dabi. Snickering to yourself when you saw his contact was saved under 'If Menstruational Pain Was A Person'. You clicked on his contact, hoping he wouldn't be those annoying people who answered after the fifth ring on purpose.

He wasn't.

"Whoever this is, it better be important. I'm in the middle of something." He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the soft rustling of something in the background you could tell he wasn't in any danger. It made you sigh in relief.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Oh it's you. Miss me already?" You didn't need to see him smirking on the other end, cause you knew he was.

You ignored his question, "Where are you?"

There was pause that lasted long enough for you to hear a muffled cry in the background and an unknown squelching sound. You didn't take him for someone that tortured his victims.

You learn new things everyday.

"Room 3406." You heard a groan this time, making you frown. Why was he dragging his torture session out so long, the least he could do was put the poor person out of their misery and take their money.

Wait.

"You're still in the hotel. You damn asshole I thought you were dead in a ditch!" You raised your voice, not caring that people passing by gave you concerning looks.

"Didn't realize you cared so much about little old me." He let out a sound crossed between surprise and a laugh, which caught you off guard.

He hung up before you could give a response.

That was weird.

You looked down at your naked arms, noticing the goosebumps.

Yeah, very weird.

❦

It didn't take you long to find the hotel room, thanking your lucky stars when you found out the room was unlocked and didn't require a key card.

Once you entered the room, you glanced around noticing that nothing was out of place or broken. There was no signs of struggle, which was a good thing. It made cleaning up easier.

Your eyes landed on a pair of familiar boots placed adjacent to a pair of red bottom heels that were laying on its side.

You picked the heel up, examining it to see if there was any blood on it. There wasn't.

That's strange.

"Uhnnnggg~"

Your head snapped in the direction of the main bedroom when you heard the sounds of someone whimpering in pain. The warning bells in your head grew louder when you decided to check out what was going on.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar but not enough for you to see what was on the other side. You heard a deep groan as your fingers brushed the doorframe, your heart in your throat at what you'd find. So you pushed forward expecting everything but what was in front of you.

You didn't dare move.

There Dabi was, hands gripping tightly on some woman's hips. The muscle in his arms flexing, and his legs out stretched beneath her. Her hands were buried in his obsidian locks as he set the pace for her, bouncing her up and down his cock. Each time he brought her down, she'd let out a R-rated moan. She swiveled her hips as best as she could, but from the way her thighs trembled from the pleasure, you could tell it was too much for her.

Dabi's eyes were shut in bliss, letting out a breathy moan when she opted for grounding on his cock instead. From her quick movements, you could tell she was close.

"Yes, yes, yes –oh fuck!"

Dabi immediately flipped her over, preventing her from reaching her climax. His heavy cock slapped against his abdomen, smearing moisture against his defined stomach. You quickly looked away, focusing on the woman instead.

It immediately clicked in. You knew who she was.

Yui Murukami, the 34 year old heiress and CEO to the company that supplied our friends in capes with support items. She was a rich and powerful woman known throughout Japan, and one of the benefactor's that pulled out their sponsorship after finding out that the Meta Liberation Army was infiltrated with "heretics."

The same heretic that's narrow hips she currently had her long milky legs wrapped around.

What a hypocrite.

You got a good look at Dabi for the first time tonight. Your eyes traveled down his lean form. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in flexibility. The position he was in was a testimony to that.

The subtle red hair trailing down towards his impressive length caught your attention. So he was a natural redhead? That or he had some weird hobby of dyeing his pubes.

It made you shudder.

He pumped at his veiny cock, gathering the pre-come dripping from the pink and angry head, and used it to lubricate himself further. The golden piercings keeping his two skin types together stretched as he did so.

You thanked whatever God was out there for Dabi not noticing you. They surely had your back. Now was the perfect time to escape. Dabi was clearly lost in the throes of pleasure. But just as you stepped back, the floor beneath your feet decided now was a good time to announce your presence.

Dabi's eyes immediately snapped open in your direction.

Those ocean blues stared at you intensely without a hint of shame. You were frozen in place as you held his heated gaze, eyes falling to his lips when his tongue jotted out to lick them. It had you entranced and you almost missed the way his lips broke out into a full grin when he knew exactly what position he had you in.

Hook, line and sinker.

He was taunting you, waiting on you to storm out of this room in embarrassment and anger. Dabi was a sick individual who'd take any and every opportunity to test you and your loyalty to the Paranormal Liberation Front. If you walked out now, despite how badly you really wanted to, that would be the same as failing. You weren't about to fail twice in one night.

He raised an eyebrow when you didn't barge at his challenge. Shrugging, he guided his cock back inside the woman with a soft sigh. He broke eye contact first, looking down at where their bodies joined and bottomed out into her. She let out a ridiculously high-pitched moan.

He kept her thighs far apart as he continued his ministrations despite knowing you were watching.

Your face was hot as you clenched your fists tightly.

Slapping and squelching sounds filled the room as their movements picked up. The air growing heavy with the smell of sex. Dabi was rutting into her in a way that had her breasts bouncing in a particular rhythm.

There was something so enticing about the way she pushed herself back onto him every time he gave short deep thrusts. She clawed at his chest, trying to push him away but he wasn't having it. Instead he drove into her faster and more ruthlessly as a warning.

This moment was too intimate and private, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away either.

It was intoxicating.

Suddenly a long keening sound left her lips, hands digging into the once pristine sheets, almost tearing them apart. Dabi hit a special spot inside of her that neither of you could see.

Heat rushed to your belly in an all too familiar feeling.

He continued hitting that spot, her body violently shaking and writhing. The way his hips were angled, it brushed against the little button at the top of her mound perfectly.

That was the last straw.

She came so hard, no doubt clamping tightly around his cock. Causing him to throw his head back in eye rolling pleasure with a deep throaty groan. His movements began to filter in order to prolong the feeling, but he quickly regained his composure and picked up where he left off. Triggering her into squirting all over his abdomen. Not once, twice but thrice.

His abdomen glistened with her juices and his added sweat. The way his hair fell into his eyes and clung to his neck had your heart skipping a beat.

"Does this make you feel good?" He asked her as his hips bucked up. Voice deep, too deep.

Fuck yes.

She responded in a tired moan.

"I could have you like this underneath me every night if you just–" he snapped his hips into hers to accentuate his point, "–begged nicely."

Jesus.

She continued to mewl, clawing into the sheets as she neared her second orgasm.

"All you got to —fuck— say is please and I'll be scratching every itch inside of you that those fingers can't reach." He toppled over her, dropping both hands on either side of the her head.

"Uh huh." She let out, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"I don't like being ignored." He looked at you this time, making you jolt. One of his hands reached out to grip around her throat, making her gasp as he controlled her airway.

When she responded in a broken moan, he ignored her and kept his eyes focused on you instead. He narrowed his eyes, something dark flashing in them before he looked back down at her. A deep growl in his throat.

Oh.

He was talking to you the entire time.

You rubbed your thighs together to ease the aching between your legs.

It didn't go by unnoticed, as much as you hoped. Dabi gave you a look that made him seem so vulnerable at that moment. All his walls came crashing down and for once you could read his facial expression. He desperately wanted you to be the one underneath him.

"Touch yourself." He commanded, hips bucking in urgency.

He was close.

Yui was long forgotten as it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. You did as he said, ignoring the voice in your head that was calling you a 'fucking idiot.'

You unzipped your pants, enough to give him a view of the shape of your pussy and the increasing wet patch at the center of your lace panties. You pushed your hand into your pants, while the other bunched your shirt up. The moment your fingers brushed against your drenched folds through your panties, you closed your eyes and let out a silent moan. Everything felt hypersensitive. You didn't care that this wasn't enough to send you over the edge, all you cared about was imagining it was him touching you like this, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucked you into next week.

"Fuck." He let out after a long time of being silent. "Good girl, just like that–"

A loud groan ripped out of his throat before he could finish his rambling.

Not too long and the rhythm Dabi started with began to stutter when his hips bucked up irregularly. The woman underneath him putting on a whole performance but he continued to ignore her in favor of you.

He gave you a needy look as he gave one last sloppy thrust, waves of pleasure being sent to your pussy.

Dabi let out a moan that was so guttural and so deep as he came inside of her wishing it was you instead. He chased his high in quick juvenile thrusts, making sure every last drop was emptied inside of her.

His hips continued to twitch from his intense climax, a pained hiss leaving his lips. The oversensitivity finally catching up to him.

He gave her a slow open mouthed kiss after they regained their breaths. Pulling his softening cock out of her with a wet pop. He nuzzled his face into her neck, causing her to giggle and hug his form closer to hers. And he allowed it.

He looked back up at you, an indescribable look passing through his eyes. It was quickly gone as it had come, being replaced by a smirk and knowing wink that said everything you needed to know.

Bastard

Dabi was an incredible actor and you were just another one of his victims.

You left just as Dabi started getting hard again, obviously he could go for another round, a round you wanted no part in witnessing.

You weren't going to be used by him again in order for him to find a quick release. To hell with him and his twisted version of testing someone's loyalty. You felt utterly humiliated and dirty. All you wanted was to go back to the PLF hideout and crawl into your bed and forget this all happened.

How could you be so stupid. He had this all planned out from the start. No wonder he was so quick to help you when the mission started going downhill.

You hated him so much.

You wanted to scream when you realized he told you the room number on purpose despite being in the middle of that. He wanted you come up and catch him in the act, and that's why he had no problem in you watching him do those things to her. He wanted to see what you'd do in that situation. This was all one big joke to him.

Yet you couldn't understand why you were still so horny and soaking wet.

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki #touya x reader #dabi smut #dabi fanfiction #mha smut #dabi scenarios #dabi x you #bnha smut #unprotected sex #dabi is a little shit

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

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Reason to Come Back (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Reason to come back

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 3574

Request: "can you do something where seb(or one of his characters)and reader used to date and one day he broke up with her and after a short time he comes up with a new girl(not cheating)and the reader thinks that she’s worthless and not beautiful or good enough and that’s why he broke up with her and tries to be better(you know what to do•_-) and silently suffering etc. and with a happy ending where they get back together"

Warnings: mentions of a breakup, angst, depression, very slight mentions of disordered eating and exercise (very slight, not like most of my other fics), general feelings of worthlessness, angst

Tags: @buckys2thicc @mardema @stucky-on-spiderman @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @buckfics @babyboibucky

A/N: I AM SO SORRY TO THE ANON THAT REQUESTED THIS SO LONG AGO AND THAT IT TOOK SO LONG! I don’t even know if they’re still here, I feel so bad. I got an anon request for this fic and I did not know about the inbox for Tumblr accounts until just recently because I’m incompetent. There’s no excuse for me taking so long to write it, but I wanted to even though it’s been 9 months since they sent it. If you’re still here anon, thank you for sticking with me!

NEW NOTE 06/04/21: I rewrote this to be for Bucky as opposed to Sebastian. It is still mostly the same, just reworded in some places. This is meant to take place in reference to the timeline of tfatws and mentions moments from the show. I am referencing “the time he was gone” as the series episode 1-6. I don’t know how much time passed but I assume it was at least a few weeks if not longer (especially between episodes 5 and 6). That’s how I wrote it.

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It was a quiet night, you under some blankets on the couch watching a movie. There was an empty bowl aside from a few popcorn kernels on the coffee table in front of you, the movie more for background noise than entertainment. You were scrolling through your phone mindlessly, looking for a distraction that would keep you occupied.

Not that it was working too well. There wasn’t much that could distract you from the fact that you were alone.

9 months. You had dated for 9 months. Not that he had been around for much of it. He had been with Sam on an extended mission, and he had been gone for a few weeks. You didn’t know much about the mission, Bucky wasn’t allowed to tell you. For your safety. You understood. It was his job, you knew that, but it could be lonely most of the time. He would call or text you if he could, but he couldn’t compromise his location. You were always happy to hear from him, but it wasn’t the same as when he was around.

You knew this would happen, and you had accepted that. It was hard, but you could manage.

You hadn’t heard from him in a weeks, but you didn’t think much of it. He and Sam must have gotten closer to the answers they had been looking for. You could only hope that he was safe. it took a toll on you, worrying about him, but you had been so happy when he had said he was coming home. But when he walked through the door, he didn’t seem excited at all.

You had wrapped your arms around him, and he had hesitantly hugged you back gently. You had known something was wrong almost immediately, pulling back and trying to meet his eyes. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“We should talk,” he said, struggling to meet your eyes.

You pulled your eyes together with concern. “Yeah, yeah what’s wrong?”

“I, uh… I don’t know if this is gonna work out.”

You shook your head, surprised. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I just don’t think you and I work with 1,000 miles between us.”

“What?” you said in disbelief. “You’re the one who has to leave and I told you that I’m okay with it, and I am. I never thought you’d be the one with the problem with it.”

“Y/n -”

“We can work this out, Buck. You said it yourself, you don’t normally go away for that long. I’m not going anywhere, I - ”

“I can’t ask you to stay, y/n,” he said, cutting you off. You shut your mouth and shook your head. “Where is this coming from, what happened?” you asked.

He cleared his throat. “I should go.”

“You don’t get to walk away from this like that!” you exclaimed, nearly yelling.

“And I don’t have the right to expect you to wait for months while I’m out trying to save people. I thought it’d be fine but I couldn’t stop thinking about you here, alone. There’s going to be more missions, more danger. They recreated the serum. Who knows what else they’ll be able to create? You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me! I told you I’m okay with it and I still am, Bucky! I know the risks!” you said, tears pricking your eyes.

He looked away. “You deserve much better than me. Someone who can be there for you.”

You walked up to him and cupped his face. “You’re all I could ever want Bucky. Distance be damned.”

He sighed and pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly for a moment. “I have to go y/n. I’m sorry.”

He let you go and turned around, not even looking back to say goodbye.

That had been a couple of weeks ago. You had been crushed at first, devastated. But you were still able to function in your day-to-day life. You had a few friends to hype you up or cry with you, whatever the day was. You were able to still get to work, try to move on. And it was getting better, but the nights were still hard. It wasn’t the same when you knew he wouldn’t be coming home.

During the day you could pretend like you were waiting for that night when he would be able to call you. But at night, it was dark and you didn’t have a person you wanted to call.

You weren’t bitter, in a way you understood. You had known how relationships could be ruined by distance and work. But being a super soldier wasn’t a typical line of work. You had been okay with it, but you hadn’t thought that it would’ve affected Bucky as much as it seemed to. You had been emotional at the time, but looking back on it you could understand where he was coming from. Relationships were two-sided - just because you felt okay didn’t guarantee he was.

You knew what he did was dangerous. You had accepted that there might not have always been a happy ending. Maybe he hadn’t.

But then one day you had walked into a bar, only to see Bucky flirting with another girl, laughing away..

That was all you needed to see.

You didn’t want to read too much into it, any kind of situation could be misread. But him laughing with a very attractive girl over drinks shortly after becoming single - you couldn’t help but wonder.

You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that you were reading everything wrong, but your heart still felt as though it was breaking.

She was gorgeous. Much more so than you, you had thought.

Was that why he left? Was he just wanting to get himself back out there? Had he met her and just needed to get rid of you?

You didn’t want to think that way, none of it was true. He wouldn’t do that, he was a good man. But still…

Maybe if you were different it would’ve been harder for him to leave.

Maybe you hadn’t given him a good enough reason to stay.

And maybe, if you were better, prettier, he would come back.

It started small - making more of an effort to go to the gym, not ordering takeaways every night, that sort of thing. Not that you had much of an appetite to begin with. But you didn’t realize when your days had become full of going from work to the gym, nor why you had freaked out so much when you had sprained an ankle and couldn’t do your normal workout.

You had decided to work your arms those next few days to supplement the cardio you had missed. You had kept this up until you woke up one morning struggling to turn over because you were so sore. You decided that that day, you could take a rest day.

A rest day turned into a rest week, and soon enough you were only leaving your house to go to work. And only because you needed money.

You had cut yourself off from most of your contacts, still replying every now and then so they wouldn’t be concerned. You didn’t go out with them or call them because you were worried they would see right through you. Better to stay home. Your bed would never judge you.

You had become familiar with the spots on the wall, the streaks from god knows what, the way that light would filter through your window as the sun ascended and descended the sky. Hours could pass and you could still be in the same position.

You had to keep up a front around everyone. Letting people know how much you were hurting was not an option for you. Then they would ask what was wrong and pull you aside and look at you with this concerned face that you couldn’t deal with. It was the one that everyone always gave when someone was having a bad day, the one people put on when they wanted you to think that they cared. Sometimes they did, but most of the time a person with any sense of morals would put that face on to make a person think that they cared. It’s the same way “How are you?” is more of a greeting than a genuine question.

There were people who cared, but you didn’t want to have that conversation. You didn’t even know what you were doing anymore. It was an honest thought of bettering yourself, but it was for the wrong reasons. Trying to be better for Bucky made you realize how much you missed him. How angry you really were at him. But you couldn’t take it out on him, he didn’t deserve that at all, he didn’t earn that. But you were angry at...something, and maybe it was yourself, at letting him walk out that door, of not calling him and leaving him messages. Maybe if you had fought for him he would’ve stayed. If you had said something when he distanced himself.

You felt like this was your fault. And maybe if you changed something about yourself, you would learn from your mistakes.

Not that you knew exactly what you had done or what isolating yourself would fix, or teach you for that matter.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because your ringtone jolted you awake. You groaned, shutting your eyes again. You would let it go to voicemail, just like all of the others. If it was that important they would text you.

You let it ring, sighing when it had stopped. You readjusted in your bed, trying to fall back asleep. It was a Saturday morning, you had until Monday morning to sleep. You were going to make the most of it.

But then your phone began ringing again.

You opened your eyes again, picking up your phone to see who it was. You dropped the phone when you saw the name

Bucky Barnes

Why the fuck was he calling you? What could he possibly have to say to you?

You watched the phone ring through to voicemail, soon after seeing a voicemail was left. You didn’t bother listening to it, you didn’t need to. You simply rolled over in bed. If it were that important, he would have called sooner.

Bucky’s POV

As the call went to voicemail again, Bucky was confused. He had never known you to miss a call, ever. It wasn’t like you, he knew you would drop anything to take calls. You had said you hated people leaving voicemails because you hated them having to listen to your voicemail message. You had thought your voice had sounded weird. It was one of the little things he remembered about you that made him smile

And realize how royally he had fucked up.

Being away on a mission wasn’t anything new for him, but maintaining a serious relationship for him was. He had never met anyone like you, and he had missed you so much when he had left. He hadn’t felt anything like what he did when you smiled at him since the 40′s. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but all he could think about was how much he had missed you. And that made him think about how much you must have missed him.

He felt like he was holding you back in some way. He was used to being away in dangerous situations for periods of time but you weren’t. And no matter how much you had assured him that you were okay with the long-distance relationship, as the months went on he felt guilty for not being able to be there in the way that he wanted to.

In the way you deserved.

He broke up with you because he thought you deserved better than relying on phone calls and texts for months at a time. Someone who could be there all the time for you. Someone who you didn’t have to worry about getting shot when he left for a mission. Someone predictable and reliable. Something he couldn’t always do.

But God, did he miss you.

He regretted walking out that door. He regretted not giving you a better reason, for not calling you or texting you until now, weeks later. The more time went on, the more he felt it would be inappropriate to call you to apologize.

But he couldn’t take it anymore, so he dialed your number. And when it went to voicemail, he had gotten a little worried.

He knew he didn’t have much of a right or reason to be worried, but he had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. So, he decided to reach out to one of your friends.

Hey, is y/n alright?

Why do you want to know?

Look, I know I messed up. I just wanted to apologize and give her the answer she deserves. But she’s not answering my calls.

She doesn’t do phone calls anymore.

What do you mean?

She won’t answer calls. She won’t even come out with us anymore. Something’s up but she denies it.

When did this start?

When do you think?

Bucky’s heart sank to his stomach. This was his fault. And he had to go make it right.

Your POV

You were still in bed, wondering why Bucky had called you. It didn’t make sense to you, for him to call after all of this time. What could he possibly have to say to you? Did he want to inform you of a new girlfriend before the news caught wind of it? Did he want to come up with some dumb excuse to tell you he was sorry?

It made you scoff slightly, but the tug at your heart let you know that it wouldn’t be unwelcome.

You couldn’t deny it. As much as his leaving had hurt you, you missed him more than anything.

You wanted another chance with him, one that you weren’t sure you would get. And the thought of him coming back to you was comforting. Like maybe it wasn’t your fault. Or maybe you had done enough to win him back.

Wishful thinking.

You had lost track of time, once again, but were snapped out of your daze by knocking on your door.

What? Why would anyone be here?

You sighed. It was probably just some random person selling some random product or something.

More knocking. More insistent. You sighed, standing up and silently groaning at the soreness you felt in your body. Not necessarily from overuse, but more so from underuse. You stood you slowly, walking quietly over to your door.

More knocking.

You made it to the door and glanced through the peephole you had, eyes widening and a small gasp leaving your mouth.

Why the fuck was Bucky here?

More knocking.

You ran a hand down your face. Knowing him, he wouldn’t leave. But why did it go from calling straight to ‘I’m coming to your door’? As if he hadn’t been the one to leave you?

More knocking.

You swallowed dryly. “Why are you here?” you called out through the door.

Bucky let out a breath. “I just want to talk to you”

You shook your head on the other side of the door, wondering if you should let him speak. As if he wasn’t already living rent-free in your mind.

“Please y/n.”

You set your face hard, pulling the door open. At least you would get to say your piece to him.

“Now you wanna talk? Fine. Let’s talk.” you said, coldly.

Bucky was slightly taken aback, though he couldn’t blame you. He took in your appearance, exhaustion seeming to overtake you. Dark circles under your eyes, pale skin, you just - all life seemed to be drained from you. He scratched the back of his neck nervously before he asked quietly, “Can I come in?”

You stepped to the side, silently allowing him in, closing the door behind you. You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged slightly. “What do you want Barnes?

“I’m sorry,” he said. You scoffed slightly, shaking your head and looking away. “Y/n look at me, please. I fucked up.”

“Well it took you long enough to figure that one out didn’t it?” you snapped, looking at him.

“Y/n please -”

“Tell me, when exactly did you figure out that maybe, just maybe, you should say you were sorry?”

“Y/n please - “

“Who was the girl? The one in the bar from a few days after we had broken up? The one you were hitting on over a couple of drinks?”

“The… what?”

“When did you feel the slightest bit of regret? When did you change your mind and decide that you didn’t want to leave?”

“I never wanted to leave you!” he exclaimed. “Can you please just listen to me?”

You looked at him, anger in your eyes but you closed your mouth. You gave him a look that said ‘I’m listening.’

He took a deep breath. “The woman at the bar was an old friend of Sam’s. He had introduced the two of us at one point. I was at a bar one night and and she came over to say hello and stayed for one drink. It’s nothing more than that.”

You took a breath. Situations could definitely be read wrong. You knew it had probably been nothing.

“When we first got together we had talked about me leaving for missions. Long-distance, unpredictable times, dangerous missions. A lot of people have a hard time keeping that going.”

“And I knew that and was okay with it.”

“Let me finish, please.” he pleaded. “I knew you knew the risks but I’m not sure I was as ready as I thought I was. I left and suddenly I couldn’t talk to you because I was worried for your safety. I couldn’t be there for you in all the ways I wanted to be. In all the ways you deserved. I just...you didn’t deserve that. You deserved so much more than that.”

You felt tears prick your eyes. “You already told me that. When you left. What’s really going on?”

He shook his head slightly. “ Sam’s sister had gotten a call with a threat towards her and her children. I couldn’t put you at risk. These people, they were super soldiers just like me. I had a few close calls with serious injuries. And I realized that if I got hurt I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t let you get hurt and I couldn’t let you worry about whether or not I would come home alive. I thought… I thought it’d be less painful for both of us if we stopped seeing each other before that happened.”

You shook your head slightly. “Why couldn’t you tell me that?” you said, a little more softly.

“I don’t know”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than I don’t know.”

“I - “ He sighed slightly. “I was scared. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was scared that I was going to lose you.”

“So you gave me up?” you asked.

“And made the biggest mistake of my entire life.”

You looked to the side and bit your lip slightly. “You know I thought it was my fault?” you turned your face back to Bucky’s confused one. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. That if I was enough you wouldn’t have left. Or if I was better you would’ve come back.”

He shook his head and started walking towards you to comfort you. “It was never your fault angel -”

You backed up slightly. “You don’t get to call me that. Not right now, not yet at least.”

He looked hurt slightly, but he nodded. After a few moments of silence, you scoffed slightly.

“You know, as much as I hate to admit it, I fell apart these past few weeks. Told myself that the only thing I wanted and needed was having you come back. And here you are and...I don’t know, Bucky.” you shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or think, you broke up with me because you were afraid of hurting me? I - “ you rubbed your eyes. “I just… I get it, but I just wish we could’ve had this conversation weeks ago, Buck.”

“Does this mean we’re done?” he asked timidly.

“I… I don’t know. I just…. I think i need a little bit of time. Please. Just some time to think.”

He nodded, though he looked slightly disappointed. “Yeah, of course.” you nodded, walking him over to the door, opening it. He turned around. “Is it okay to give you a hug, y/n?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you looped them around his neck. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, tears forming in your eyes as you realized how much you missed this. How much you needed this. When he went to pull away, you held him a little more tightly before letting him go.

He smiled at you before turning to leave. “Take as much time as you need, y/n.”

You gave him the smallest of smiles back. “I’ll see you later Bucky.”

And with that, you closed the door behind you, not having a clue what any of this meant. This didn’t make it okay by any means, but maybe, just maybe, the two of you could start fresh. Together.

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #40s bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky fanfic #bucky #angst #angst angst angst #part two coming soon

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robinrequiems · 3 years

Text

hey any1 want some superman jon and batman Damian hcs? too bad cause you’re getting them

• damian realized why no one wanted to be batman when he turned 18 and Bruce decided to give him batman when he was 22.

• jon realized why jon didn’t want to be superman when he also turned 18

• oh and right, by gave, I mean bruce sorta can’t be batman anymore. medical reasons…

• damian sorta uh. persuaded clark into giving jon superman.

Damian: look. I don’t wanna be worlds finest with you, old man.

Clark: im- im not old—

Damian: listen here, jon and i? we are gonna surpass you and my dad. so give it to jon and let me prove it.

Clark: this doesn’t seem like a good idea— you aren’t ready— neither is jon

Damian: wait- wait, you don’t believe in your son and i??? wow. WOOOW. okay. i see.

Clark: that’s not it!-

Damian: sure. sure. don’t worry. I see now.

Clark: wait I do!

Damian: no, no you don’t.. it’s— it’s okay, I get it, it’s me, huh?

Clark: no!

Damian: I get it

Clark: please i do! I’ll - oh my rao, you’re playing me

Damian: i am. i cant do this without jon though. please, Clark.

Clark: *sigh, how did he get manipulated by a kid he used to babysit* okay.

• okay so now jon may be a little overwhelmed because one day he’s flamebird, the next, he’s becoming superman? huH. it’s extremely uh. worrying. and really just? wow.

• does Damian feel bad? oh yeah. he does. so bad. but he really can’t do it alone. they always dreamed of being their parents. or being better than them. but they grew up and realized that they really didn’t want to be their parents.

• but here they were, getting fitted for their suits and adding their own details to it.

jon: hey, you look hot

damian: please. shut up.

• they could do this. they could do this. shoot they can’t do this.

• damians own anxiety was going 50 mph. look, okay? remember before heretic when Bruce thought that Damian would become a satanic batman and basically rain hell all over gotham? yeah. that’s what is going on in damians mind.

• he doesn’t want to be that. ( “you won’t be like that, cmon, d, we’re gonna be better.” ) and how Damian wants to believe jon so bad..

• he doesn’t want to become obsessed with Batman like his father did, he still wants to have a life. he doesn’t want to isolate himself away and adopt kids as a coping mechanism. that’s why he needs jon to be superman. jon helps him, he helps him not go off into his own little world and stay there. he believes that with Jon, he’ll be okay. he has to be. maybe he uses jon as his own coping mechanism, but that isn’t the point.

• together, they will outshine their parents. the supersons can do this. they are the next generation, and it’s not like they are alone. they have so many other people to help them. they’ll be okay.

• they have been preparing for this their whole life, but they both feel like they got it too soon. they thought they had more time. Damian does feel guilty when he hears jon talking about how stressed he is about superman and not living up to whatever the hell he has to live up to, but Damian does fear what would. or could. have happened if he didn’t have jon with him. becoming batman took a lot out of him, more than he would like to admit. he just got constant flashbacks to heretic and that whole fiasco he thought he put behind him a loong time ago.

Jon: are you sure you’re okay?

Damian: yes idiot, quit worrying.

Jon: I’ll always worry about, d.

• jon somehow becomes MORE sappier when he becomes superman.

• okay, also, funny story. ( Clark and Bruce don’t find it funny AT ALL ) superman and batman? yeah they sorta kissed after an almost alien invasion. in their suits. uh. in front of an alien who they were arresting for the green lanterns. most people believe that when people say it, it’s a lie, kidding. no they don’t. there were pictures.

bruce: you want to explain this?

damian: not really, no.

• the public knows there’s a new Batman and Superman since yk. Jon’s face is public and was seen as superboy flamebird and now superman, and batman was slightly smaller and had some different moves

• but here’s their main line up: batman ( dami wamie, obvi ), superman ( jonnyboy kent ), nobody ( maya:)) ), green lantern ( tai pham, my baby boy ), lace ( wallace west 2, he goes by lace instead of flash because i said so. ), and shazam ( billy b ).

• fun fact, they have a den mother even though they are all in their 20s. poor dinah.. yeah black canary is their den mother. ( stole it from from yj )

• dinah makes sure they get their injuries checked out, train regularly, and you know. don’t blow up a building.

• again.

• ( when damian and jon were younger, in their teen years, they stupidly accidentally blowed up a building. in their defense, the building was owned by the penguin. and there were no civilians in the area. but they also got a lot of men sent after them.. oops. )

• they are very chaotic. they are the definition of dumbass energy sometimes.

• damian tries to keep the pda down whenever he’s batman, BUT JON DOESNT KNOW HOW TO DO THAT

• hence the amount of photos of jon hugging Damian or kissing him

• damian has never once initiated one in suits

• ( that one time jon almost died does not count )

Damian: thought you were gonna be batman.

Tim: nah, i don’t wanna be bruce. i saw what it did to dick. I would’ve became just like him.

Damian: am i like him??

Tim: god no, bruce would never kiss superman or date him or spray paint the new justice league logo— nice logo, by the way— onto villains bases

Damian: is that a good or bad thing?

Tim; good, that means you probably won’t be a total emotional stunted person using crime fighting as an outlet for unresolved childhood trauma.

Damian: you do realize why i became Robin right

Tim: .. not the point im trying to make. I mean now, brat.

• sometimes you can see some of the heroes dropping by to surprise kids, they heard that their old mentors used to go to children’s hospitals to visit sick kids, so they did that too. on a rare day where there isn’t any crime, which is really rare, they go to a school and talk if it’s a weekday, or they drop by an orphanage to hang out with kids.

• they have gotten into a lot of trouble though. they’re still learning how to work as a team. jon and damian are used to being solo and working with each other, Tai had tagged along a few times when they were younger and knows how they work, along with maya, but billy and Wallace do not.

• they often all get into arguments.

• damian lacks a filter and will criticize everyone if they mess up. and he often goes off alone or is too blunt.

• it takes a long time before they all realize that Damian is just: Damian, he doesnt mean to be mean. ( surprisingly )

• billy is used to being the big kid stuck at the kids table, it’s funny that he’s actually the second oldest when he used to be the youngest. ( lace is like.. 27? shazam is 25.. nobody 24. & the supersons 22. pulled all those ages outta my ass. you’re welcome. )

• dinah is also their therapist. poor dinah.

• like really giving pity to dinah. but dinah loves those kids, she has known some since they were kids. she used to take damian out for ice cream and train with him, and also babysit him. ( AUNT DINAH IS MY FAVORITE GOODBYE ). and she did the same with Jon.

• dinah actually does help a lot of them get over their trauma, not completely, but most have finally spoken about it. they began talking after they all got hit with fear gas.

• that was a bad night.

• they had almost disbanded before when they thought lace had died by the hands of captain cold. they had been arguing all day, and if they didn’t, they might’ve saved him:

• but turns out he wasn’t dead.

• but the argument was still there, and it was strong. it took a while for them to actually work together without dinah forcing them.

• then soon came another new member after maya left to go do some undercover mission for the justice league regarding some alien tech being distributed some place. it was a sad goodbye, but she would be back and she would have a place here.

• welcoming: yara flor. yara was a bit headstrong and wild. damian has screamed at her a lot and almost got into a fist fight with her before being dragged off by his boyfriend 💋

• but she settled in fine. minus the fact damian really wanted to shove a batarang up— anyways. she just had to learn teamwork and shit, she was used to being a solo and she was somewhat new. so they helped her out and she became a solid member of the team.

• sometimes damian and jon just go and sit on a rooftop like they did as kids togeyher. just alone with each other. thinking about how their life changed so quickly.

Damian: i thought we’d ruin our fathers’ legacies and plummet to the ground.

Jon: *he coughed* ..what?

Damian: yeah. i didn’t think we’d get this far, but here we are.

Jon: of course we got this far, and we’re gonna get further.

Damian: i know.

• oh yeah. so. superman. fucking proposed after they defeated darkseid. ( the battle was long, so many people were left injured and on the brick of death, Damian and jon had been separated when it all started. Damian had stayed on earth at first before going to apokolips. Damn he hadn’t seen it since he got resurrected.

Darkseid: oh. I remember you.

Damian: mhm?

Darkseid: ah yes, the little boy who was resurrected here.. the chaos share, your father used it on you.

Damian: i know. i remember what happened. I was there afterall.

Darkseid: I wonder if you are as smart as the original batman.

Damian: i am.

• damian was buying time. he was waiting for reinforcements, namely the people who had powers and could take him down. damian wasn’t stupid. he realized darkseid liked to talk. his friends were fighting off the female furys or whatever they were called. he just had to wait and entertain.

Darkseid: quite the ego there.

Damian: i saved the justice league when i was 13, i deserve to have an ego.

Darkseid: oh, you are by far more talkative than the original.

Damian: thanks.

Darkseid: not a compliment, you fool.

• yeah so. darkseid tried to kill damian, with a beam thing. Damian was about to flip away like the baddie he is, but. jon. went out and yk. took the hit. dumbass.

Damian: you have such a big hero complex.

Jon: wow I just saved you and that’s what you say?????

Damian: yes.

• anyways, after they defeat darkseid, jon pops out a ring from his pocket and asks damian to marry him on apokolips.

Damian: you seriously couldn’t wait til we got on earth?

Jon: dames you almost died. what if- what if something happens, I’ve been putting this off for so long. cmon please?

Damian: you’re seriously asking me to marry you here where, I’m pretty sure, a lot of shit happened to our parents here.

Jon: no time like the present.

Damian: fair. okay.

Jon: just okay???

Damian: im sorry, do you want me to cry or something?

Jon: ughh, you can be so extra and petty sometimes.

Damian: i am not being petty.

Jon: just because I ask you to marry me here you wanna be like “okay” and that’s it

Damian: you’re so dramatic. I’ll marry you. I wanna marry you. Better?

Jon: yeah:)

#batman Damian wayne #superman jon kent #rambles #hc #worlds finest but it’s better

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rayshippouuchiha · 3 years

Note

Can I be honest?

Ao3 actually kept me from harm BECAUSE it hosted darker content that is well tagged.

Let me explain. I started my fanfiction days pretty young and in ff.net no less. I loved reading and I was curious. First thing I learned before going on the internet was from my father (the internet is not for kids, stay sharp, you going into an adult place, act like it). I was very careful but I was still curious.

So, I started small, but because of the ff.net tag mess I did get burned. A few times. Sudden violence, amputations, sex scenes (god i remember the lemon scale bs, as if i understood it in the first place) (this was before the purge). This was because all the well written fics were mostly in the M rating but had no specific tags so I had no idea if the M was for torture, cursing, or god knows what, I couldn't filter out anything.

Some of those things I still remember, they left a mark in a way, but that wasn't the writer's fault because they couldn't tag and I ignored the author note sections because most of the time it was just rambles of the author talking with the characters self-insert style or about their real life problems, how was I supposed to find a warning in that kind of mess? And that's on me.

In that period I kinda got introduced to sex, a thing that wasn't talked about around me in real life. I was already a bit older, so I read it no problem. Then got introduced to kinks and found them interesting.

That's where Ao3 comes in. I found it when looking at fic recs and saw a new internet address instead of ff.net. For me, it was the holy grail. I was still a young curious teen girl but suddenly had access to a whole library of cool shit. I read a lot of mainstream fics and switched between fandoms like a deck of cards. Then, I saw the E rating. I was interested and clicked. Clicked through the adult content warnings like a true kid lying about their age on the internet.

I saw tags galore! Now, for the first time I was, in a way, safe while exploring dark stuff. Because one fic on the same page was tagged underage (the characters were my age at the time) and was E, while a whole other E fic on the same page was graphic torture case fic and worse. And it was all tagged.

So there I went, looking at fic, going hmmm and deciding: oh that's interesting, ew no, oh that's gross, huh i wonder what that is, this sounds good, oh i love this, uhhhhh hmm should I risk it, OH HELL NO.

And that's the thing! I knew what I was reading! I could experiment with kinks and dark things in a completely safe environment of the fantasy world!

Ao3 in a way saved me from talking about these things with others and accidentaly falling into an actual predator's hands (think student/teacher dynamic, grooming), because my curiosity wasn't going away, I still would have looked sooner or later, and if it wasn't for the no-interaction interface of Ao3 (a story can't kidnap or molest you), I could have been hurt.

Like yeah, no shit, I know I'm lucky that my brain didn't get actual trauma from textual depictions of dark stuff I stumbled on in my early days, but what I did get was more valuable than the risk of trauma (also, you can't get trauma from a tag, but you could from the text that has the tag, so the reader is still the one responsible, they were warned what was inside the box and still opened it).

I got boundaries, squicks, hard no's, absolute limits, whatever people call them these days. I now know what I can deal with and what I can't. I know myself better and could now fight against a person trying to bend or break them. I read dark shit so I know what kind of emotions I get from them and in what circumstances (what I like in text pretty much never carries into real life (even the mild things like biting), surprise).

But purity police would look at my Ao3 history and scream their head off about how I'm a deviant roaming free to attack people like a rabid dog, because obviously I must secretly wish to do that in real life!

And then if they met me they would get the confusion of a lifetime! They would have this image of a sexual deviant/old as fuck creeper/freak and then see me, a 21 year old woman, a well adjusted and social individual who has NEVER and will NEVER hurt a fly, eating chips in bed and reading fucked up shit about fictional characters for entertainment.

Because that's the difference. It's not the average people reading fucked up shit that are dangerous to the public, it's the people who already were fucked in the head before reading anything. No story on this Earth can force you to commit a crime unless you already wanted to do it and were just looking for an excuse.

Case in point, the Dexter inspired murders ("it wasn't me it was the book, I am innocent, it was the evil book, as such I am not to blame, blame the author!") and the NUMEROUS video game related murders (oh no it's not the parent's fault they bought their unstable child a 18+ rated game, it's the game's/creator's fault!"

Fiction and Reality coexist and influence each other in various ways (propaganda, misinformation, stereotypes, false data), but not like this.

And do you guys know why? Because we have an instinctive moral compass, we know right from wrong, and anyone fooling themselves thinking "I would have never done that if this [media] didn't tell/force me to do it" are in fact lying. Again, they would have done it eventually or even wanted to do it already, they just found a viable excuse now, all free to use as a "get out of jail free" card.

Sorry for the long ask and for my English (non-native speaker), you can ignore this, I won't mind. Just got a bit ticked off at people blaming writers for shit they didn't do. So here is my perspective from a long time reader's point of view.

If all these works didn't make me into a monster after all this time reading, then maybe, just maybe, it's not the works' fault.

You bring up absolutely wonderful and important points darling. Thank you for sharing.

And your English is fantastic so don’t worry about it.

#Fandom #Anonymous #RayRambles

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

Text

Lockscreens (ch. 5)

tw: Pining, mentions of stripping (playful)

Word count: ~2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

AN: There is an official Lockscreens Spotify playlist! Please feel free to give it a listen 💖

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 5: Best Friends (19 weeks)

The blaring sound abruptly drew him out of his deep slumber. “What?” He muttered, rubbing his face.

“Kurooooo,” she whined. “I need your help.” He furiously blinked, trying to rub the sleep away.

“What’s up?”

“I have these super bad cravings, do you mind picking it up and getting it for me?”

Kuroo sighed deeply. “This is what you decided to wake me up for?” He groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead.

“Please? I’d owe you one! And you’re awake already.”

“You owe me a lot more than just one, kitten,” he warned. “What on Earth are you craving right now?”

“I really want dark chocolate covered blueberries and a salmon onigiri. Oh! And maybe some meat buns.” An exclamation. “Maybe peaches too!”

He blinked. “What?”

She let out a loud whine. “Kuroo! Don’t judge me! It’s what the baby wants, okay?”

“I’m not judging that’s just..super particular. Alright fine, I’ll pick it up and head over.”

“You’re literally the best! Love you~!” And with that, she hung up. The rush of blood filled his ears as those words echoed in his ears. He pinched his nose, breathing deeply. Glancing down at his phone, he looked at the time. 2:26 A.M. She really had such inconvenient timing. At this rate, he wasn’t going to get sleep until at least 4 A.M. His eyes glided down, looking at his lock-screen. A smile tugged at his lips at the familiar face. It was a photo of (Name) laughing, her navy peacoat draped over her shoulders and the collar of her dress pulled up. Kuroo had taken the photo when they went on their fancy dinner over a month ago.

He sighed, wiping his face with a hand as he got up. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d be back in bed. With one last grumble, he slid into a pair of sweats and an old volleyball hoodie as he made his way out of his apartment.

****

“The doctor did tell you last week that your cravings were going to get worse,” Kuroo teased as she opened the door for him. He’d visited four different convenience stores to find everything on her list. She ignored him, snatching the plastic bag out of his hands. (Name) waddled over to her sofa, plopping down as she rummaged through the bag. She pulled out the meat bun and onigiri, holding one in each hand as she took savage bites out of them.

“Oh my god, this is incredible,” she moaned, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure.

“Oh yes, please do that again, I just love hearing that,” Kuroo teased.

“Shut up rooster-head.” (Name) swallowed, pulling out the peach drink he got her. “Aw, Kuroo! You got me my favorite, you’re literally the best.” He shrugged, taking a seat beside her. He reached for the bag, only to have his hand smacked away. “No! Mine.”

“I literally brought it for you!” He argued. “Let me get my food, woman.” She pouted, before pushing the bag towards him. He laughed at the familiar sight.

It was post-practice during their third-year. Kuroo and Kenma were joining (Name) at her house for their weekly movie night. “Ooh, can we stop by the convenience store?”

“Didn’t you just eat?” Kuroo teased. She had eaten her second bento while they were taking a break during practice.

“So? If you guys are coming over to watch movies, we should have snacks!” She argued, stopping directly in front of the store. “Do you guys want anything?”

“I’m okay.” Kenma replied, barely glancing up. Kenma sat down on the bench as he continued playing on his DS.

“Suit yourself!” She grinned. “How about you, Kuroo?”

“I’ll go pick for myself, thank you.” They walked inside. “Knowing you, you’d pick something weird for me.”

“Hey, don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

She giggled, tapping his nose before skipping away. “You should! I practically raised you, y’know?”

“And why do you think that?”

“Well, I did save your ass in English,” she teased, squatting down to survey the snacks at the bottom row.

“Yeah well, you needed help in science. It cancels there.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “You know you love me. And with love, comes trust!”

His heart skipped a beat. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear.” She rolled her eyes at his term of endearment. Kuroo picked up a bag of chips, choosing some more snacks as they made their way down the aisle. “What’s on the agenda for movies?”

(Name) hummed, paying for her snacks as they made their way outside. “Depends! I’m open for whatever.” She tugged Kenma off the bench before skipping off in front of them. Kuroo and Kenma stood beside one another as they trailed behind. Kuroo’s soft smile was not missed by the younger boy as he observed the female, (h/c) hair blowing back as she skipped. She hummed a tune from (favorite song) as she unlocked the door, dropping the snacks onto the table as she gestured to the couch. “Make yourselves comfortable!”

“Don’t we always?” Kenma muttered, sliding onto the reclining seat as (Name) bustled around to clean up the couch a bit. Kuroo plopped down onto the couch, kicking his legs up onto the table. She smacked his legs to make them fall off, ignoring his cry of indignation.

“I’ll be right back!” She ran upstairs towards her room.

“When are you going to tell her?”

Kuroo jumped, looking at his male best friend. “Tell her what?”

“That you have a thing for her.”

Kuroo’s cheeks flushed red. “No I don’t!”

“Sure. You totally weren’t watching her with a dopey smile either.” Kenma rolled his eyes, aggressively using combo moves in order to defeat the boss. “You’ve been in love with her for years now, we all know.”

Kuroo blanched. “Does she?”

“Nah, she’s just as dumb as you are when it comes down to it.”

“Why the hell am I coming down to Kenma saying that I’m dumb?” (Name) pouted, blankets bundled in her arms as she appeared at the doorway. Kuroo jumped, his blood freezing and heart clenching. “Not that I’m saying Kuroo isn’t, but I definitely am not!”

“Yes you are.”

Kuroo let out a high-pitched laugh, earning an odd look from (Name). Kenma just shook his head in distaste. “Is that all you heard?”

“Rude, Kenma! And yes, rooster-head, that’s all I heard.” She plopped down on the couch, spreading the blanket over their laps. Kuroo let out a sigh of relief as (Name) turned to Kenma, raising her brow. “So, pudding-pop, why am I dumb?”

“You’re just always dumb.” She leaned over to playfully shove him, causing Kenma to mess up. “(Name)!” He swore, glaring at the girl. Kuroo leaned down for the snack bag, only to have his hand smacked away by (Name). He glared at her as she rummaged through the bag, pulling out her own snacks before she handed him the bag.

“That’s your own fault, pudding-pop.” She laughed, before she leaned back against Kuroo. The captain’s heart lurched as he looked down. Her head was practically resting on his chest, her warmth seeping through his clothes to his heart. If loving someone felt like this, then he definitely didn’t mind.

She glanced at the clock, finishing the last of the snacks and throwing the trash into the bag. “There’s no reason for you to go home; I’d feel terrible if you drove home this late.” She bit her lip. “Why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight?” Kuroo looked at her, his eyebrows raised. When they were in middle-school, it wasn’t uncommon for them to share a bed. But once they had gotten to high-school, they were forced out of the habit— mainly due to rising hormones and fear of what others would think of them.

“Are you sure?” He hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Just get in there, you big dummy.” She rolled her eyes, making her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She paused, standing in the doorway. Her eyes sparkled slightly as she looked at him. “Thanks for coming, Kuroo. I appreciate it.” She mumbled.

Kuroo grinned, “I’m just glad to be of service.” He stood up, brushing his pants as he slipped into her bedroom. Hazel eyes surveyed the room, it wasn’t that different from before. Her desk was neat and organized, there were medicinal posters up on her walls, and there were soft golden fairy-lights dangling along the side of the wall. He undressed, leaving him in his boxers as he slipped under the covers. The mattress was so soft, he’d have to ask her where she got it. The sound of running water turned off, and the clicks of light-switches caught his attention. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on her desk. It was already 4:40 A.M. Thank god it was the weekend tomorrow. The door opened, and she entered.

“Ugh, I forgot how big you are,” she grimaced, crossing her arms as she looked at him. “Budge up, will ya?” She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt, black panties peeking out from under them.

“And you’re hardly wearing clothes,” he taunted before scooting over.

“Oi, my house, my rules. If you’re gonna be weird about it, you’re more than welcome to sleep on the sofa.” He simply tsk’d in response, lifting the blanket up so that she could slide in beside him. “You say I’m hardly wearing anything, Kuroo you’re not even wearing a shirt!” She whined, her hand brushing against his chest.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he teased, blowing air onto her face.

“Don’t be such a prick.”

“Goodnight princess.”

A hum in response as her breathing got heavier. “G’night, Tetsu.” His heart stuttered.

****

(Name) groaned as the light filtered into the room, falling onto her face. She felt so warm and comfortable. Her attention was drawn to a weight on her waist. (E/c) eyes blinked at the chest that it was pressed against. Pulling back slightly, she looked up to see Kuroo’s sleeping face, a pillow pressed against his head. She stifled a giggle, taking in how relaxed the male looked. A sudden urge hit her. Oh shit, gotta pee, her eyes widened. Wiggling out of his arms carefully, she waddled to the bathroom. She might be pregnant, but the gods help her because she absolutely refused to have any sort of accident.

As she returned to her room, she couldn’t help but lean against the bed-frame as she looked down at his peaceful face.

“Kuroo, I don’t understand this,” she whined, burying her face in her palms. They’d been studying for hours now.

“What don’t you understand?”

“I keep getting the wrong answers.” With one hand, she shoved the book towards him, plopping her head onto the desk. “Can I just drop out of school and become a stripper?”

“No,” a bemused smile crossed his face, “it’s your last year. This is literally just high-school chemistry, that I’m helping you with. There will be no stripping here!”

She grunted into her arms. “You’re right, I doubt anyone would wanna see that anyways.”

Kuroo shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not true.”

(Name) lifted her face, freezing. He was so close. All she’d need to do is lean forward just a little bit. “Are you saying you would?” She breathed.

“Maybe.” He licked his lips, eyes wide. “Or maybe not. Maybe I just don’t want my best friend putting herself out like that.” Hazel eyes darted down to her lips. She could practically feel his lips against hers.

They sprung apart as the door suddenly crashed open, revealing Lev. “Senpai, I need help studying!”

“You gotta be quiet when you’re studying, you dumbass,” Kuroo retorted, cheeks slightly red. “Otherwise you bother everyone like you always do.”

“Don’t be mean to the baby tree,” (Name) scolded, her cheeks also glowing.

“Why are your faces red?” Lev cocked his head.

“It’s just hot in here,” (Name) stammered, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you study, Lev?” Lev plopped into the chair beside her, pushing his books towards her as he explained his issues. In the corner of her eyes, she surveyed Kuroo. Did they really almost kiss?

She shook her head, making her way back to her kitchen. She couldn’t be catching feelings now. Not for her best friend while she’s pregnant with her boyfriend’s— ex-boyfriend’s?— baby. She didn’t even want to think about how they were also best friends with one another. Silently, she wondered if these were feelings that she’d always secretly suppressed. It’s not like she’d never had a crush on Kuroo before. She’d had one when they were still in middle school, and she’d always assumed those were just one of those things that happened. With a more aggressive shake of her head, (Name) stepped into the kitchen, taking things out to make pancakes. As she hummed a familiar tune, cracking eggs into a bowl, she jumped. Warm arms snaked around her waist, a chest meeting her back.

“Well aren’t you cuddly this morning?” She chuckled, patting one of his arms affectionately. Kuroo just tightened his grip, burying his face into her shoulder. His breath warmed the back of her neck.

“Sleepy,” he muttered. “I blame you.”

(Name)’s giggle filled the kitchen, sounding like a windchime swaying in the breeze. “You didn’t have to help.” He awkwardly shrugged, tightening his grip as he rubbed his face into her shoulder, dangerously close to her neck. Goose-bumps raced along her skin. She leaned back in his caress, closing her eyes. The warmth of his body swept through her. “Hey, Kuroo?” He hummed in response. “Do you wanna move in?”

“Huh?” He rubbed his face into her shoulder, hiding his burning cheeks. Hoping that she couldn’t feel it. “Move in?”

“Yeah.” She hesitated. “I mean, you’re always over. And I feel bad calling you to come over late at night.” She took a deep breath. “It’s also kinda lonely, y’know? Like it’s basically just me here by myself after living here with Kou for so long.”

“That’s the last of the boxes, babe!”

“Finally!” Bokuto collapsed onto the couch, letting out a massive sigh. “That took so long.”

“That’s what happens when you move somewhere,” she giggled, perching herself beside him. (Name) looked affectionately around the house. After an entire day of moving things in, they’d unpacked (most) of their boxes. It was the end of their first year of college, and they’d decide to move off-campus into their own house for some privacy for the upcoming school-year. Excitement pulsed through her. She and Bokuto had just celebrated their first anniversary after years of friendship, and things had never been easier. Of course, the couple had their issues. Bokuto had issues balancing his school-work with club volleyball, and she’d been so overwhelmed with her classes and internship that it was difficult for them to find time together. But, it was all worth it in the end. Now, she’d fall asleep and wake up beside the love of her life every day. “Kou, what do you want for dinner?”

“I’m too lazy to eat,” Bokuto groaned, draping an arm over his eyes. She patted his arm.

“Too lazy to eat? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that,” (Name) teased, elbowing him slightly. “Ah well, if you’re too lazy, maybe I’ll go get dinner all by myself. Alone. In our new neighborhood.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

She made a move to stand, only for arms to snake around her and throw her into the couch. (Name) giggled loudly, blinking up into golden pools as Bokuto hovered over her. He peppered kisses all around her face. “Let’s order in, and just spend our first night in our new home together, okay?” He murmured, brushing her hair away from her face as he drew her into a soft kiss. “Besides, I want to spend time with the love of my life in the place where we’ll raise our kids.” She gaped, tears welling up. His eyes were shut as he nudged her nose with his.

“Kids?”

He flushed, pulling back. “Well yeah, I wanna have kids with you.” He pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing the promise ring that sat there. “I promised you forever, didn’t I?” Arms wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to her as she slotted her lips against his.

“God I love you,” she whispered in between kisses.

“Y’know, this is a perfect time to break in that new bed,” he grinned.

“Kou!” She squealed, smacking his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared at him. Her heart had never felt so warm.

“Are you sure?” Kuroo pulled back, turning her so that she was facing him. “I don’t want to intrude.”

She nodded. “Yeah. If anything, we can put a bed in the nursery for now and you can stay there so you have your own space.” (Name) offered him a small smile. “Is that okay?”

“Well, if you insist,” Kuroo teased, tapping her nose. He grew serious. “I’d do anything for you, (Nickname).”

She wrapped her arms around him. “You’re the best, Kuroo.”

Fun facts

💟 Kuroo sleeps with D.N.D. on except for notifications from Kenma and (Name).

💟 (Name) typically craves onigiri and meat buns. Other things she craves are her usual study-hangout-movie night snacks.

💟 (Name) and Kenma both have a bad habit of staying up late. They usually call each other when they want company, but only Kuroo would actually get up and go visit one of them so late, so they’ll call him if they need something.

💟 Both Bokuto and Kuroo disagree about who introduced (Name) to her favourite peach drink. It was actually neither of them. Kenma introduced it to her during one of their movie nights.

💟 Kenma had known that Kuroo was pining for (Name) for years. He was tired of hearing/seeing it and warned him that someone else would ask her out if he didn’t get a move on. Kenma also almost confessed to (Name) on Kuroo’s behalf

💟 The last time Kuroo and (Name) shared a bed was their first semester of high-school. When she told one of her girlfriends, they shamed her for it so she stopped letting Kuroo sleepover.

💟 At training camp their first year, Kuroo forgot to pack a sleep shirt and wandered around Shinzen after curfew. (Name) was also out to get a drink of water and shrieked when she saw Kuroo because she thought he was a ghost.

💟 When Lev told the team about what he stumbled upon, he got his butt kicked by Yaku for cock-blocking. Lev was the only one on the team who didn’t realise the tension between (Name) and Kuroo.

💟 Bokuto randomly surprised (Name) with the keys to their new house after enlisting Akaashi’s help to plan and organise everything.

AN: Officially switched my update day to Thursdays! Please feel free to pop into my inbox if you have any questions, comments, or concerns 💞 I love interacting with you all!

Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora @anejuuuuoy @abby-rutledge20 @babybluebisexual @badboysdoitbetter2 @liathachcapricious @cosmiclunas @wishingforanother@toobsessedsstuff @setterfish @yeehawslap @shadowkunoichi @haikyuusimp91 @firebonbon @mentalydisturbed@samkysnks @dolan-mendes @loudpoetry23

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redhawtriot · 4 years

Text

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I felt as though since this story had such a specific narrative (especially delving into the harsh world of modeling and the effects of discrimination) that it would reach out to a very specific niche of reader.

I was actually astonished by loud support this fic has obtained so for, so thank you so much! I cannot stress enough how much that means to me.

HnM 💕

Tag-list: @steggy4ever @library-trash @watevermelon @glimmadora-ble @persephones24 @dragonempress123 @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms @hot-pocket01 @tsukineho

Month 1, Month 3

--Month 2--

No.

You looked at the stick of plastic in your hand with wide eyes as your mouth stuttered into a slack jaw—your breaths hardly making their way in and out of your lungs evenly.

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you saw white spots underneath your lids before you snapped them back open again, internally praying that you would wake up form whatever nightmare you were having.

However, you couldn’t blink away the big, fat smiley face that stared back up at you from the piece of purple and white plastic that sealed your fate.

No. No. No!

The sudden urge to puke came back with a vengeance and you threw yourself to the toilet, slamming your knees to the ground in the process. As your stomach lurched up into your chest, you couldn’t tell whether the tears forming in your eyes were from the harshness of the motion or something else entirely.

“Gah!” you loudly choked out as you pulled away from the mess in the toilet.

Once the nausea became slightly less debilitating you leaned back against your bathtub, throwing your head up as you groaned to the ceiling, “No, no, no, nooo…” you softly sobbed. You tried your best to keep from bawling so you didn’t find yourself with your head back in the bowl, but you couldn’t help the stream of hot tears that spilled from your eyes as you stared at the vent in the ceiling.

How could this happen? How could you be… pr...

A sudden stirring in your gut made you swallow hard as you tried to keep your stomach out of your throat.

Don’t be an idiot, Y/N. You took sex education in high school. You put the condom on the banana and were scolded with constant threats of STDs and the fires of Hell like everybody else. So yeah. You know how it happened.

You sighed as you thought back to all the guys you had slept with recently-- which was luckily not too many within the past few months, and only one since your last period.

Fuck, you didn’t even remember what the damn fathe-- guy looked like.

Well, excluding his rippling muscles.

You threw your head into your hands as the uncanny image of a body builder newborn infiltrated your mind. Well, that didn’t fucking help at all. Grabbing your hair tightly as you stared at the tile between your legs, you cursed yourself, “You dumbass! How could you be so goddamn stupid!? Stupid, stupid, stupid!” you repeatedly knocked against your skull.

You reached into the recesses of your memory for any information you might have about the guy. Where was his apartment again...? On the other side of town somewhere right… Near Club 52? God, you didn’t even fucking know! and what did it matter anyway, huh? What were you gonna do? Storm up to his place, pregnancy tests a-blazin’, and tell the complete stranger that you were carrying his kid?!

With a weak and tired moan, you lifted yourself off of your bathroom floor and went to the sink to rinse your bile infested mouth out and wash the salty tears off of your cheeks.

But not before you got a good look at yourself in the mirror.

Swollen eyes.

Red nose.

Drying, teary snot pooling on the rim of your upper lip.

“You look like shit,” you harshly reprimanded yourself before turning the sink on and sticking your face into the cool water. Your hands blindly reached around your counter until you finally grabbed a nearby hand towel to bring to your face. As you patted your cheeks dry, your eyes wandered to the counter where three other positive pregnancy tests that you had taken earlier that morning resided.

The trio all sported a similar smug smile as they looked up to you as if to say ‘we told you so.’

The little shits.

“Shut up.” You quickly grabbed all four tests and with a hint of bitterness chucked them into a nearby trash bin before making your way to your bedroom across the hall.

Plopping down onto your screeching mattress, you took your phone out:

Boss Lady

[2:50 pm]

Hey, brat. I hope you’re doing better.

Don’t forget that we have that runway fitting next week. And the test shots. And the international scouting event.

Think. Thin.

No carbs. No red meats.

NO ALCOHOL!!!

Fucking no alcohol for nine whole months. You attempted to scoff at this, but what came out could have probably been mistaken for the last sounds of a dying animal.

Kimi:

[3:31 pm]

Hope you made it home safe last night!

As you read this text, a piece of you wished that maybe you hadn't made it home safe last night... Your brain briefly wandered into the dark territories of ‘what if’s’ as you imagined falling in front of the train at the subway, walking past a drug deal gone wrong, hell-- drowning on the water you took with your Pepto Bismol. You quickly brushed these thoughts away as you continued looking through your phone,

Boss Lady

[4:45 pm]

Oh, also Deku just asked for a meeting with you personally.

You’re going of course. Glad you got his attention. Good girl.

Tomorrow. 5:00pm. El Vino’s downtown. (EAT LIGHTLY!)

Inches! Inches! Inches!

You slammed your phone down onto your mattress as you loudly sighed.

Inches. Your entire livelihood depended on your damn inches and now there was no way you could maintain the “golden ratio.” The thought made your blood churn.

Modeling… was all that you had. You didn’t have any other fucking talents—no quirk to depend on-- so when would your growing stomach steal your life away?

When do people even start ‘showing’?

You haven’t come across many pregnant women, but all of the ones you have seen either looked like normal people or like freaking beach balls. For some reason your brain couldn’t conjure an intermediate.

Did they just blow up out of nowhere? If so, then when? How long could you pull a ruse off before your growing organ snitched on you? 5 months? 6 months? Next fucking week?

You realized then that you knew next to jack squat about pregnancy.

Or damn kids for that matter.

Okay so... abortion? For some reason, even just the thought of that word made an icky taste surge in your mouth—or maybe it was the leftover vomit, who knows?

To be honest, you had never really thought much on abortion before—it was one of the many topics filed into your brain under ‘that does not and will not pertain to me, so why the fuck should I care?’ Filtered out and forgotten, your feelings on abortion had yet to be developed.

Until now.

After a few beats, you opened your phone back up and began to dial Kimi, fearing that you might soon explode with the brunt of knowledge that weighed heavily upon your shoulders.

You paused.

Had you ever actually talked to her about anything that wasn’t exclusively work related? In the past two years of knowing her, have you ever actually learned anything about her, and she about you? Very suddenly, you were slapped in the face by a crude fact: Kimi was just a work-friend.

That was fucking fine and dandy up until now. You pretty much either worked, or drank, or showed up to work drunk. But now…

Shit.

Who the hell else could you call? You barely had any friends, and you hadn’t talked to your family in what felt like ages. Who was there for situations like this? If half of your life was working, and half of your life was drinking, and your work friends were a no go… what about your drinking friends? Your mind briefly fled to the stashes of your best buddies-- vodka and tequila-- that you kept in your kitchen.

But not even they could save you now.

Fuck you really were alone.

That night, you found yourself constantly flipping your pillow to find a new dry spot to assault with fresh tears. You hadn’t cried so much since you were a kid. Wait-- come to think of it, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had cried at all.

So, was it hormones? Pregnancy hormones?

The surreal thought made your tears fly down your face even more furiously.

The next evening there was practically no trace or evidence of your mental breakdown from the night before as you strolled up to El Vino’s. It was honestly kind of frightening how quickly you had managed to pull yourself together before this little meeting—but mostly, it was empowering.

Okay, Y/N. You fucking got this. Hormones or not, you were still a baddie to your very core.

Deku was easy enough to spot in the little Mediterranean themed restaurant—with the green-ass hair and all. You strolled up to the table with the warmest smile that you could muster, “Mr. Deku,” you quickly approached his table and gave a slight bow.

“H-Hey!” You seemed to startle him with your sudden appearance. He jumped a bit in his seat and awkwardly shifted as you made your way to your own chair. His face was a bit red as you maintained your eyes on his shying expression.

“Look, before you say anything. I just want to say sorry,” his shocked eyes suddenly snapped back up to yours as you continued, “I had no idea that the event was yours and I probably ruined the rest of the night for you. If you want me off the brand deal, then I completely understand, just... don’t blame Ainu’s agency.”

His mouth fumbled over itself for a moment, causing you to quirk an unsure eyebrow before he could finally speak up, “No t-that’s not what I am here for at all, Miss L/N.”

“Call me Y/N. please,” your smirk was a little less sure than usual and you prayed that he couldn’t detect how off he had thrown you. This was going much different than you had expected it to. For one, he wasn’t trying to ‘put you in your place for disrespecting him’ or bargain sex ‘as an apology’ like most power hungry men in his position would.

“Okay, M-miss Y/N,” the blush that adorned his cheeks confused you even further and you felt the space between your eyebrows involuntarily tighten. That was another thing… He didn’t seem like a typical man in a position of power. He was… soft... you didn’t know how else to explain it other than unusual for a man of his size and stature.

“I actually wanted to apologize to you,” he spoke up once more and you were completely lost by then. You could only blink as he continued to speak, “You really got me thinking about things the other night-- you were totally right. The brand of my sneakers did lose its true meaning. I really meant to have it be a symbol for kids growing up without a quirk to enjoy—to give them hope, but it turned into more of an endorsement to myself. The whole thing. It was wrong. That’s why I have decided to give 100% of my personal Red Sneakers profits to establishing my Quirkless Youth Initiative,”

You looked around for any hidden cameras—any hidden agenda behind his motives before looking back to him with a stiff expression. You had to physically keep your face from scrunching, “And just how are you going to make a living out of a mindset like that?” you dared to call his bluff.

“It’s just gonna have to work. It’s what my mentor would have done—given 100%. Beyond actually.”

Holy shit. This man was being serious. ‘100% and beyond’ serious, to be exact. Your face scrunched up once more, “Why do you care so much anyway?” you cut back on your tone as you noticed his eyes widen a bit at your accusatory voice, “Not to be rude, but… what’s a strong hero like you doing caring about us quirkless?”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment or two. Contemplating on whether or not he was going to lie, you noticed, “I… I… didn’t have a quirk until much later in life. I was 14. Growing up, I always wanted to be a hero, and I just wish that I had someone back then believe in me. I want to be the one that tells kid’s—with a smile-- that they can do it. That they have at least one person who believes in them.”

His name-- Deku-- it meant worthless. The puzzle pieces were finally coming together and things began to make sense. It was a name that either himself or others used to describe him when he was growing up probably, and the man had taken it and spun it around to make it his own. Even you had to admit--

“That’s pretty damn impressive,” you couldn’t help the curl that tugged into the corners of your lips as Deku bashfully looked away from you,

“It’s nothing, really!” he tried to deflect. You gave a small laugh before smoothly bringing up the glass of wine in front of you to your lips. As soon as the liquid rushed in your mouth, your eyes flew wide open with realization,

Shit! What the fuck were you doing?

You immediately spit the alcohol back into your cup and snapped your eyes back to Deku who had, thankfully, been too caught up in his own embarrassment to be paying attention to you. You gave a sigh of relief and sat the wine glass as far away from you as inconspicuously possible.

“So,” you leaned into the table a bit to get his eyes back on you, “Tell me about this Quirkless Youth Initiative,” you smiled.

From that point on, you and Deku actually found talking to each other relatively easy—okay, extremely easy. In fact, you stayed past the point of dinner and ended up talking at your table hours after the bill had been paid.

You talked about everything and nothing altogether and didn’t know just when to end the conversation. You lowered your borders for some reason. Well-- you knew the reason. It was because you had been dying to talk to someone since you found out that you were the ‘p-word.’

He ended up walking you home. Past that, for the next two weeks you guys pretty much saw each other every other day or two and talked fairly regularly. Things became habitual.

In fact.

As you stood in the beaming light of the wardrobe, getting your makeup done, you found yourself stealing little glances here and there to your phone to text with your new friend, Deku. Every buzz of your phone left you with a giddy sense of excitement.

One of the models sharing the gigantic mirror with you quickly took notice of your demeanor, “What are you smiling at, Y/N?”

“She’s texting someone,” another spoke up as your friend/babysitter, Kimi strolled up next to you,

“What?! Y/N L/N texting someone back? Have we entered the Twilight Zone??” she joked. You only responded with poking your tongue out at her before your phone buzzed again,

Deku:

[1:00 pm]

Good Luck on your runway thing today!

You:

More like run away thing🏃‍♀️💨

Deku:

I could help? Bring comfort snacks?

You:

Most of us haven’t eaten a full meal in days BB

You would literally be stampeded by women

Wait that sounded too good🤔

You will literally be stampeded by hungry women***

Deku:

You haven’t been eating?!

Since when?!

You:

That’s not what I said.

Just pre-show prep to keep the waists snatched and the legends skinny💁‍♀️

Deku:

Sorry I don’t know how your job really works.

I’ll come over again tonight after your show and bring dinner!

If that’s okay. Sorry didn’t mean to sound pushy.

“Didn’t you hear? Her and Deku really hit it off on their date,” Your attention was instantly snapped away from your phone screen.

You gave an ugly snort, “It wasn’t a date.” And you certainly weren’t lying. The friendly atmosphere between you and Izuku felt comfortable as best—nothing intimate about it.

You wouldn't have it any other way. It felt as though he was placed in your life to perfectly fill the holes in your boat just before you started sinking.

“Girl your phone is blowing up!” a co-worker exclaimed, loudly.

Kimi laughed as she pinched your cheeks, “Look at that smile on her face”

All of the commotion gathered the attention of Boss Lady, who was currently storming up to you with the ‘phone box’ (or phone cemetery as some of you liked to call it) in her hand. She liked to have this on her especially in big events like runways or show casings because some of the girls—you were guilty as charged—spent quite a bit of time on their phones behind the scenes, “Phone. Bin. Now.”

Usually, you would put up some type of argument or give a quick-witted remark, but this time around you only rushed to send one final text in before you threw your cellphone into the crate.

You:

[1:33pm]

I should get off at like 11 see you then broccoli boy🥦🤪

Kimi looked terrified as though she was the one who had just incurred Ainu’s wrath, “Still smiling, huh...?”

You hadn’t even notice that you had been.

Talking to Deku really did make you happy when you needed it. Just like he spun ‘deku’ around and made it make sense, he had spun your life around and did the same. He made you feel like life was normal—whatever the hell that was. You’d never really been classified as normal anyway, but you had some impression that this resembled what it must feel like.

For a fleeting moment you think that maybe you should just sleep with Deku and pass this pregnancy off as his since you had yet to tell him-- or anyone-- about it.

But the better half of you instantly slaps this thought out through your ears.

Hello? Welcome to psycho bitch incorporated. Seriously. What the fuck was wrong with you?

Damn, you had been separated from your phone (and Deku) for exactly 23 seconds and you were already outta your cot-damn mind. You get one friend and suddenly you don’t know how to act.

You needed to somehow find “blond muscle man” and let him know what was up. Fuck, how were you supposed to do that when you didn’t even know his name?

The runway that night went pretty much how every single other runway went, except this time-- you opted not to attend any of the after parties. Instead, you went home and had Deku over, who delivered on his promise with sushi.

You could smell the sushi as soon as he walked through the door and your mouth instantly watered. He really was god sent.

The two of you settled quickly in your apartment, deciding to risk it all and eat on your living room couch to watch TV; however, you quickly noticed that the TV wasn’t the only thing that Izuku was watching. As soon as you turned to raise an eyebrow on him he feebly attempted to avert his gaze, but you caught him anyways, “What? You better stop sizing me up unless you wanna fight, Deku,” you sang as you popped another sushi roll into your mouth.

“W-what sizing you up?!”

You cackled at the sudden redness of his face, “I’m just joking. We both know I’d probably kick your ass!”

“You think so?” he actually sounded a bit nervous in his tone, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh, I know so,” you shrugged with a growing smirk, “Anyway. What are you staring so hard at me for?”

The air became very still around the two of you as he looked down to think. This was something that became pretty expectant of him these past few week-- a funny little habit.

“It’s just… we’ve been hanging out a lot the past few weeks and I never really noticed it—your… dieting,” he seemed to fall into that last word a bit as if it wasn’t exactly the word that he had wanted to use.

You knew that he meant to say ‘starving yourself’ but was too reserved for that level of bluntness. That was okay with you. You weren't particularly ready to open that can of worms, “Damn, and here I was thinkin’ I was looking pretty damn good,” you joked as the both of you began cleaning up your food mess.

“No. That’s not what I meant I—”

“Joking! I’m just joking with you, Big D,” you found yourself using this nickname for him whenever you wanted to see his face fall into it’s deepest shades of red. It worked every single time,

“I have just been at this for a long time—modeling for Ainu’s agency. Since I was 15 actually,” you shook your head a little at the surge of nostalgia that wanted to bubble up your back. You clutched a nearby pillow and hugged it to your chest, “She scouted me at a mall food court. She changed my entire life—for the better of course. She is practically my mom... I owe her a lot,” you found yourself giving into the nostalgia a bit-- a small, fond smile tugging at your lips. You looked up after a few beats of silence filled the air and was met with Deku’s admiring stare, “What? You nerd!” you exclaimed with a giggle, chucking the pillow at him.

“It’s nothing. I just like hearing about you. I feel like I have been doing a lot of talking about me since we have been hanging out.”

Yeah, he was a Cancer zodiac for sure. You pretty much knew his entire life’s story after only the first week of knowing him, “Are you kidding me?! Your life is straight out of a comic book, BB! I love hearing about it!” You began talking to him from out of the kitchen as you put your leftovers in the fridge,

“You went up against the League of Villains, the Vanguard Action Front and The Paranormal Liberation Front as a freshman?? You powered up from a quirkless crybaby! (Hey!) to an amazing, uprising, super considerate, overpowered crybaby on his way to number one! Your U.A. friends all seem like comic book characters, too. I love them already from what you tell me,” you closed the fridge, revealing his shocked expression.

“Really?” You nodded, igniting a spark in his eyes, “Well, I am actually having a little get together at my place for my friends if you wanna stop by.”

“Yeah sure. As long as my favorite character, Kaminari, is there,” Izuku seemed shocked and slightly offended by your choice in favorite, so you clarified, “He sounded really cool and all with his ‘chatty zappy’ thing going on,” you suddenly rolled your eyes as a bad taste emerged in your mouth, “Kacchan sounds like a little bitch baby though, no offense.”

“Y/N!”

“What?! Kacchan can ‘Kach’ these ‘hans’! Oh come on. Not even a pity laugh? A little one?” You apparently thought you were a lot funnier than Izuku did.

“I think the two of you might actually get along. You’re very similar now that I think about it,” he trailed off on his last part, seemingly talking to himself as he grabbed his chin.

You almost felt offended by his comparison, “Fuck that. Oppisites attract, Similars repel. Besides. Why would I wanna be friends with a little bitch baby that bullies and pisses on quirkless people?”

“Well, when you meet him next week you might like him…”

You clicked your tongue, “So now I am obligated to come, huh?” you smirked.

“N-no well that’s not what I meant but I would appreciate if you—”

You were only half paying attention to his freak out as the abrupt craving for orange juice infiltrated your mind and placed itself on the forefront of your thoughts, “Deku. I am joking!” you absentmindedly reminded him as you scoured your pantries for a wine glass. You had taken to drinking out of these instead of regular cups to at least maintain a semblance of your old self.

Izuku’s eyes widened at the sight of your collection of wines and alcohols in one of your cupboards. You smirked at him-- throwing him look that said ‘you ain’t seen nothin yet’ as you opened your freezer to reveal the insane hoard of alcohol you had stored.

His jaw practically dropped to the floor at the sight, “Holy woah, you have an entire liquor store in here!”

“Saving for a rainy day,” you almost immediately realized the error of your words as Izuku motions to one of the windows near you. The two of you sat in a beat of silence as the pitter-patter of rainfall splattered against the glass pane.

“It’s raining today,” he grinned excitedly.

“No... I cant,” the way that the words fell out sounded about as convincing as a disguise with groucho glasses. You could really go for a drink right about now.

He looked to you a bit sadly, if not disappointed, “Y/N if this is about your diet… I am just saying, I don’t think one day will hurt too much.”

“No, I really shouldn't.” Understatement of the century.

Izuku grabbed two glasses out of your cupboard with a soft smile gracing his features, “We’ll pour you just a little bit in case you change your mind—”

Maybe one glass wouldn't hurt... No. NO! God, you knew he meant well, but he is really fucking making this hard for you!! “I cant, I’m pregnant!!” you suddenly yelled. He immediately froze,

“Wha...?”

“I’m pregnant...”

“Oh... Uhhh congratulations,” the most unconvincing thing to have ever come out of his mouth probably, “Who…”

“I don’t know,” the look of utter horror on his face had you instantly backtracking your answer, “Well—let me rephrase that. I do know who it is, but I don’t know his name. It was a umm.. ‘Wam. Bam. Thank you ma’am’ type deal.” Your face began burning as hot blood rushed into your cheeks. You literally couldn't have phrased that worse if you tried. What the hell was wrong with you?

“You don’t look pregnant...” the horror on his face now registered into your mind as pure shock.

“I sure as hell would hope not. I am like a month-ish along—I think.”

“You haven’t been to the doctor?”

“Uhh no...” He was right, you didn't even look pregnant. There was no way in hell that you needed to go to the doctor yet. Right?

“W-wait! Y/N the night we met! You were drinking alcohol!”

“So? I am probably only like a few weeks pregnant and I drank like two glasses. I am sure it didn’t do anything…?”

“Are you really sure? How can you know!? You have to go see a doctor!” he looked terrified. It was as if he suddenly was the embodiment every stressed emotion that you had been shoving away from you these past few weeks and the sight scared you.

“You’re freaking me out, Deku.”

He instantly froze, “S-sorry,” he looked down to his shoes. Maybe you just might let him pour those drinks after all. He looked like he could use both of them right about now...

The next week dragged on for what felt like eons, as Izuku seemed to cautiously dance around the topic of your “preexisting condition.” It was quite obvious that every time the topic came up, a cloud of discomfort would come and sit on his shoulders; however, the man still made it a point to urge the fact that you needed to set up a doctor’s appointment.

Eventually, you caved in and scheduled for one at a local clinic, but they couldn't get you in for a few weeks anyway-- the joint was at maximum capacity, you guessed? Apparently, there were more pregnant bitches waddling around than you thought.

Still, Deku urged you to read up and research some things prior to your appointment so that you could ask the doctor any questions that might pop up. It seemed like he was almost way too into this-- taking notes in a composition notepad that he dubbed “Baby Notes Vol 1″ and even mentioning coming along with you to your clinic visit.

It made things extremely real.

Your little safe space with Deku had effectively been conquered and subjugated by the little parasite that took residence in your body. You shook your shoulders with a sigh as you neared Deku’s door for the party.

*KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK*

When the door opened you couldn't help the way that your eyebrows flew up in surprise at the sight of a woman opening the door. Uhh... did you go to the wrong house?

The brown haired girl in front of you looked just as surprised as you-- if not even more so.

Okay, you definitely went to the wrong house.

The sudden sound of Izuku’s voice coming deep from withing the apartment led you to breath easy. You deflated a little bit as you relaxed. You wouldn't have to make a mad dash in a lagged game of ‘ding dong ditch’ after all, “Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.”

A series of emotions flashed across her expression at your greeting: shocked, nervous, then... disappointed? “Y/N! I’ve heard... so so much about you!” the smile that stretched across her lips seemed almost painful, “I’m Ochako Uraraka! I... love your hair!” she threw out the last part like a rabbit would throw steak to wolves.

“Thank’s...” you felt fucking awkward and she still hasn’t let you into the apartment, “I’ll make sure to thank the stylist and the bottle of dye she used.”

“That’s not your real hair color? It looks so healthy though!” she seemed heartbroken as she used a pitying tone and you could gauge that the pity was not for yourself.

“Nah. My agency pretty much determines what hairstyles I wear...” You made eye contact with Deku inside of the house as he made his way to the door... Thank god! you were saved from that terribly awkward interaction.

“Agency? Hero agency?”

“Modeling, actually. I’m not that badass,” you smirked before walking into the party.

Her figure deflated as if to say, ‘of fucking course’, “Oh. That’s cool!” You didn’t see much of Uraraka after that

Meanwhile, Bakugou was just a tick away from being angry enough to kill. His roommates had all three convinced him to go to this get together over Deku’s house and they weren't even going to be there on time!

He had honestly never been to a party with these losers without at least Shitty Hair being with him, so he wasn’t exactly sure how it would pan out and that really bothered him. He wasn’t exactly social at these events, but at least the three stooges kept him somewhat entertained (he would never admit this aloud).

What could those other losers possible do to entertain him?

“Whyyyyyyy?” he heard crying as he neared Deku’s home. His face scrunched in on itself even further than usual as he approached the whining noise. He scoffed at the inebriated mess in front of him,

“What the hell are you doing, round face?”

Uraraka, who was leaning against the edge of Izuku’s front patio looked up, causing Bakugou to deeply grimace at the germy snot that trailed down her red face, “Deku’s new girlfriend sure is cool. He deserves someone like her, right? She’s perfect!” Bakugou couldn't help the way that his face shriveled into itself in disgust.

It wasn't too late. He could still turn around and go the fuck home and no one would even know he was here. Well, save for bubble cheeks here, but she probably wouldn't even remember to be honest.

But as soon as Bakugou turned back around to make his escape Uraraka spoke up again, “She’s a model. They met at the Red Sneakers Event apparently,” Of course this piqued the man’s interest. There were only a few models branding the event and he just so happened to be searching for one of them. Uraraka continued with her drooling of words as Bakugou brushed past her and made his way into the house-- not bothering to knock,

“You know I am the one who gave him that idea in the first place? It’s kinda like. I set him up with his future wife!” she drunkenly cried to no one in particular as Bakugou stormed away.

He passed Iida on his way in, “Go get round face and shut her drunk ass up-- she’s outside,” he didn't bother on stopping to further explain before walking back to the commotion of the party.

As soon as he entered the packed room, his eyes landed on you. It was like the Red Sneakers Event all over again. You were simply glowing-- hard to miss-- especially with the crowd of his old classmates hovering around you like some damn flies on shit-- especially Deku. He was way too close to you-- the rat bastard.

“Oooh! You’ve been to Milan! That’s so cool, girl! So you must get to sight-see like a lot!”

The way that your shoulders leaned and swayed as you talked sent flutters into Bakugou’s heart. Fucking gross. He watched you speak very intently-- searching for the magic you had used to bewitch him, “Actually I was working a lot when I was there, so I really only got to see the sets and runways,” you made fleeting eye contact with him from across the room, furrowing your eye brows a bit at his stare before breaking the gaze.

“Do you get to keep the outfits after the shoots?!”

“Pfft. Hell no! This loser still hasn’t sent me a pair of his red shoes. What happened to helping the quirkless, huh, broccoli boi?” The most primal urge of jealousy that Bakugou had ever felt sprinted through his body as you leaned over to playfully tap that shitty Deku in the arm. The feeling was so intense that he hadn’t even registered what you had said fully.

“You’re quirkless?” Racoon Eyes inquired, snapping Bakugou out of his feral trance. His face fell a bit as he dutifully awaited your answer.

“Yeah. It’s whatever,” you shrugged.

“The competition must be so difficult!” Momo spoke up as she placed and apologetic hand to her chest. The gesture made you tense up a bit, but you reminded yourself that she probably didn't mean it in a belittling way as she continued, “I’ve been to a few magazine shoots myself and it is always girls with flashy quirks who end up in front and center!”

“Well, I compete well, I guess,” you knew that hero hero modeling and your fashion modelling were two completely different worlds. Designers saw you guys mostly as clothing racks and mannequins for their clothes, so usually they wanted their models to be as mundane as possible-- not to distract from their fabric art. So basically the perfect job for someone like you, “it’s no big deal. I get by like everybody else.”

“You just live your life like normal!”

“Awhhhh. Y/N. You’re an inspiration!”

Suddenly you felt extremely tired. You couldn't find the energy within yourself to filter out and soften your next response, “Glad I could inspire you just by breathing I guess.” you gave the girls a slight smile as you shrugged, but the undertone of your comment had not gone unnoticed-- especially by Bakugou who found himself stifling a proud smirk.

You once again made eye contact with him in this moment-- this time not daring to backtrack your gaze until he did-- a warning sign to back he hell off with that staring shit.

As the night progressed you found yourself becoming more and more tired. The debilitating sense of sudden fatigue actually felt like it had taken over even your bones at this point as the aching structures weighed heavily inside of you skin. You decided after about an hour that you were gonna make an early trip back home.

“What, why!?” Deku scanned your face nervously-- he thought you had been having fun!

“Just really damn tired suddenly.”

“Oh...” he trailed off, but suddenly realized the hidden context of your words. Baby Notes vol 1 page 4 section 3: ‘prenatal fatigue’, “Ohhhhh okay! Right! Well Let me call you a taxi or something.”

“Nahh, I’ll walk,” you waved him off as you made your journey toward small crowds of his friends-- waving them goodbye. Deku followed you in your path around his house,

“W-what? You can’t be serious! You shouldn’t do that!”

You turned around and threw your hand on his shoulder, causing him to instantly freeze up, “I’ll be fine,” you smirked throwing your hand up to his cheek to gently pat his face. Of course, he was left a shivering, blushing mess. It was a low blow, but, hey, it gave you a good opportunity to escape.

You felt a wave of relief as soon as you made it a few steps outside of the apartment. You released a heavy sigh as you continued walking away.

Finally. You internally planned the rest of the night in your head: orange juice, Netflix and sleeeep. You could finally just let yourself relax and--

“HEY!” you jumped out of your skin a little at the sudden loud shout. You whipped around to see that blond spikey-haired dude from Deku’s house attempting to close in on you.

You rolled your eyes as he neared. Hardly throwing him a glance as he approached you to walk a little behind you, “God. You’re the weirdo that was staring at me all night,” you groaned, hoping he would catch your drift.

“We need to talk!”

One of you eyebrows instantly quirked up as your lips curled into a look of disgust. You whipped back around towards him, “Look, I am actually tired as hell, so excuse me for my bluntness, but FUCK OFF!” You only caught a glimpse of his flabbergasted expression before you spun back around to storm down the stairs entering the subway.

“You really don’t know me?” he sounded pissed.

That’s when it hit you.

“Oh! it’s you!” you snapped your fingers at the sudden realization,

“You’re Kacchan!” the look of disgust that hardened on his face intensified by ten fold when he heard you use that nickname. You continued regardless as you neared the train platform, “The asshole bully who likes to pick on quirkless kids. Yeah, well, I don’t give a damn how great you think you are, buddy. You can really fuck off now!” you spun once more to ditch him; however this time around your ankle twisted from underneath you, causing your body to fall down toward the ledge of the platform where underneath the tracks resided.

Bakugou cried out something like ‘you idiot!’ before grabbing you by the waist and yanking you into him before you could completely fall down the ledge. Everything happened so quickly that you hadn't even realized that you were holding your breath until you gasped heavily into his chest.

With a shocked expression you trailed up his neck to his face until you were met with his vermilion eyes, “Shit…” suddenly a wave of familiarity crashed into you. you breathed deeply, “I-It’s you...”

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academi #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagine #mha imagines

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silkylious · 4 years

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Funny Way of Saying I Love You (Dabi x Reader)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader Warnings: angst(i have an addiction i swear), fluff Prompts: #9 “That’s a funny way of saying ‘I love you’” and #16 “When have I ever let you down, babe? Okay, don’t answer that”

A/N: Thank you for the request! im taking my time writing these since im physically incapable of writing drabbles. I hope you like this!!

Shutting the door behind you, a soothing dusk breeze fluttered your hair as you moved farther away from your daily hell. Your boss had made it a point to be a pain in the ass today, well, more so than usual. Working overtime on a Friday evening wasn’t what you’d hoped to be doing but you couldn’t exactly complain, it wasn’t like you had anything planned and the promise of an extra paycheck didn’t sound displeasing. Rubbing your temples to ease the headache (courtesy of your boss’s incessant bitching), you walked on autopilot to your apartment, you couldn’t wait to treat yourself to a bubble bath and maybe even some wine. Little did you know that your plans would be thoroughly ruined by a certain scarred villain.

You made the decision to pass by a nearby convenient store that wasn’t too far from your residence to cop some snacks. Filtering through the brands of alcohol, you grimaced at the overpriced tags of the various red wine brands, you settled for some cheap liquor with a sigh. It ain’t much but it should do the trick. After paying for what little stuff you’d fetched, you continued on your trek to your humble flat. The sun had completely vanished from the sky, a lingering crimson bleeding into a rich indigo. Your thoughts were so spellbound by the beautiful sight, that you just barely heard a strained grunt from your left. Blinking back into reality, you halted in your steps right next to a comically shady alleyway. Just like in those horror movies. You snorted at the thought, briefly comparing yourself to that one character who always dies first in movies. Though your internal jesting was cut short when the same sound propagated through the alleyway again, this time much more haggard, closely followed by violent coughing. Against your better judgment, you treaded forward cautiously. Why were you doing this? You weren’t sure. Maybe it was the unfulfilled dream loitering in the back of your mind resurfacing after many years of suppression, but you couldn’t not help someone out in a time of need.

The deeper you ventured into the alleyway, the louder your rationality shouted, begging you to turn around and book it to your apartment complex. You were stopped in your steps when an aggressive cough broke the quiet, the sound now impossibly closer and blood splattered all over the ground before your feet. Your eyes followed the vermilion trail, skinny legs covered in bloodied up, skin-tight jeans came into view, you were met with familiar scarred features. His eyes were struggling to stay open, though at the sight of you he forced his lids apart, flashing you a bloody, half-pained smirk, red liquid running down his scarred tissue.

You blinked. Dabi blinked. You blinked again and then-

“What the shit, Dabi! Are you okay?!”

You dropped to your knees next to his limp body propped up against the shaggy wall. He gave a humorless chuckle, more blood oozing out of the corners of his lips. Dabi hummed when your hands touched his fucked up face, your quirk already pacifying most of his pain. It wasn’t a healing quirk, you were simply able to transfer emotions, feelings and sensations (to and fro) with skin on skin contact. You didn’t want him knocking the fuck out from sheer pain (heaven knows there is no way you were going to lug this human heater home), so you had to ease him a little before tending to his injuries. Your body twitched as the hurt from Dabi’s body merged into your own.

“I’ve seen better days, sweetheart,”

“You don’t say.” The words came out harsh, reprimanding. Dabi winced, from the pain or from your tone, he wasn’t sure.

The plastic bag that had been temporarily abandoned came in handy, you sorrowfully used the liquor to clean the large gashes on his abdomen (not wanting to risk an infection on the way to your complex), wrapping them up securely with scraps of his shirt. So much for a relaxing bath and liquor. You heaved him up on semi-steady knees and took a different, more desolate route back home. The last thing you’d want right now is for authorities to see you walking an injured Dabi, one of the most wanted villains in the current climate, home. He leaned most of his weight on your shoulder, his shit-eating grin told you he was doing it on purpose. You couldn’t find it in you to retaliate as you usually would, too worried to come up with any snarky comments.

This had become way too much of a ritual for your comfort. You’d find him bleeding by your doorstep at ungodly hours, silently asking for shelter. Each and every time, you’d patch him up, provide him with food and your company. You’d grown attached to the scar faced male, and even if you disdained his line of work, you’d respected his life and independence (as independent as someone who crashes on your couch near daily can be). For the past couple months, his tasks had been getting progressively more and more dangerous. Your heart couldn’t help but clench each time you saw him beaten and bruised. You knew it was risky letting these feelings develop, Dabi had made it quite clear that your relationship was nothing beyond physical, with a level of mutual respect and trust.

But this was the worst condition you’d ever seen him in after one of his missions. Not too dissimilar to the first time you met; bloody, bruised and half-conscious, truly a sight to pity. You’d noiselessly knelt down, pressed your hand onto his cheek, he hadn’t even been able to flinch at your touch, too disoriented to react properly. Though in mere moments, he began feeling the pain ebb away; the injuries were still there, he just couldn’t feel them, he equated the numbing sensation to painkillers and drugs. His eyelids parted, revealing gorgeous teal irises. Full of ethereal beauty, despite being unfocused. You had to actively shun your quirk from relaying your attraction to him as you soothed his pain, his staples and marred skin a stark contrast to your soft fingers. That night you gave him a place to stay while he was on the run, you didn’t know why, but you did. Just this one time you’d said. One time became two times. Two times became countless and the rest is history.

The apartment door was slammed open, you were beyond irate. The more you thought about him, his situation, your situation, the more you felt the urge to knock shit over and scream bloody murder. Turquoise hues followed you with contempt – and mild amusement – but mostly contempt. Dabi took his usual spot on your worn-out couch, while you stomped your way into the bathroom to get a first aid kit. With your absence, Dabi was left to his own thoughts running amuck. Dabi wasn’t oblivious. He knew what your silence meant, knew what the look of unbridled worry in your eyes implied. Yet he didn’t want to address the less than subtle growing feelings you have for him. Attachment in his line of work was a surefire way to get hurt, he figured that if he kept whatever relationship you guys had physical, he wouldn’t have any issues to fuss over. But he couldn’t lie to himself, Dabi was conscious of the budding adoration in his heart from the moment you helped him out that first time, in that filthy alley. God, he needed a cigarette.

Much to his pleasure, you came back before his mind could implode in on itself. You sat beside him on the couch, leaving more space between you than usual. Without saying a word, your hands undid his makeshift bandages, slowly but surely patching him up an inch at a time. It honestly felt like a routine at this point. That prompted a sour taste in your mouth, you couldn’t stand how careless he’d been recently, and it was eating you up inside. But you didn’t dare voice your concerns, not wanting another aimless argument with him. If silence would save you another headache inducing fight, then silence it was–

“So, you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass?”

Or not.

“Shut. Up.” You weren’t in the mood for his quips today. Fatigue from work, babysitting a villain and dealing with unrequited feelings severely fouling your otherwise warm attitude. You were just on the brink of throwing caution to the wind and letting loose all the muffled feelings you have for him. One more comment and your composure would shatter. Conveniently – or not so conveniently, he seemed to be in a talkative mood tonight.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?” The question was redundant, he knew exactly what was up with you, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Your quietness was killing him. He had to say something. He should have chosen his words a little more wisely though.

“What’s up with me?! Are you being fucking serious right now?! I come home and almost every day find you bleeding on my doorstep. Almost every day I give your reckless ass a place to stay, only for you to go and get yourself hurt again!” Pent up rage exploded from within you, an amalgamation of emotions gushing out of your pores. His eyes blew wide, not only because he had never seen you this angry, but because of the surge of emotions flooding him. In your fury filled stupor, you’d let go of the tight rein you had on your quirk. With a hand still touching his bruised forearm, you began unintentionally bleeding your feelings into him. Rage, sorrow and worry were just a few of the many emotions that rocked his being. But one stood out among the rest, outshining the others with blinding ferocity. And it honestly scared him, how powerful it was, zapping through his body. He figured you had feelings for him, that much was obvious, but he didn’t think they were that strong. Your breathtaking emotions awakened something in him too, pulling it out of the depths of where he tried to hide it, push it down in hopes of abolishing it.

It was too much to handle this, he kept coming back for help when he could easily seek any of his colleagues out, the implication that you meant something to him was so elating yet so damaging. It kept you stuck in place, barred from shutting him out or walking away. You couldn’t keep hanging onto the hope that he might reciprocate your love. It was harming you, no matter how sensuous he was in bed, no matter how gently he held onto you afterwards, he would never call you his lover. He made that crystal fucking clear. You had to put a stop to this. You leveled your shaky voice as much as your vocal cords would allow, barely whispering.

“Get the hell out, Dabi. I don’t wanna see you here again.”

The emotions sifting through him mellowed out, no longer was rage at the forefront. Pain, hurt and heartbreak ravaged him. But that one emotion was still there, despite him being a gaping asshole, it was still present. He smirked.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘I love you,’ doll.”

“Wha–“ Before you could question his response, he swiftly captured your lips in his own to shut you up. It was a quick, firm peck, but its aftermath amused him greatly. The look of bewilderment on your face was damn priceless. You were, again, transferring your feelings to him. Adoration, confusion, the overwhelming urge to pimp smack him; it was all too entertaining for him. His vibrant teals settled upon your hand still gripping his arm. No fabric to separate them. Your own eyes followed suit. Oh. You immediately stopped your quirk, redacting your palm in the process for good measure. Dabi delighted in the bashful look that overtook your face, his own growing soft. He had trouble accepting his own feelings, but after experiencing yours, he would, at the very least, try for you. Awkward silence ensued. You both knew it was his turn to talk, to finally let out the unsaid words you’d been longing for.

“(name), I… I wanna do this right, take you out on dates and shit,” He cleared his throat. “If you’d let me.”

Your answer came in the form of a crushing hug. Your love was pouring into him again, this time of your own accord. You held onto each other, his hands biting into your skin, your own carding through his dark locks. You didn’t need words. Figuratively and literally. He felt everything in bright, flashing colors, he never wanted this moment to end. But it did. His phone rang.

Clear annoyance shined in both of your eyes. With a heavy sigh, he left your embrace, getting up to answer the call.

Another mission.

With the very recent revelations both of you had come to, the idea of him going on missions carried a lot more weight than it used to. Now in front of your apartment door, he put on his shoes, ready to head out to the League’s hideout. Dabi turned around, breath hitching when he saw you standing there frowning, eyes tearful. For some reason, you had a gut feeling this mission wouldn’t be so easy. You didn’t want him to go. And it was showing.

“C’mon, baby doll. Don’t give me that look. I’ll be back, I promise,” When you didn’t even crack a smile at the nickname he sighed. “When have I ever let you down, babe?” He quickly backtracked. “Okay, don’t answer that,”

You managed a small giggle, shaking your head. You approached him slowly, silently wrapping your arms around him. You relished in his quickening heartbeat. Pulling back, you placed your hands on his clothed shoulders. You edged forward, puckering your lips against his own, the point of contact allowing you to relay your inner turmoil to him. Your hands itched towards his face, fiddling gingerly with the multiple staples aligning his cheeks. “Come back, okay? I love you.”

Breath caught in his throat, Dabi tried to push the words setting him aflame through his lips, but he couldn’t. This was happening too fast; it was giving him whiplash. He didn’t know how to say those words yet, so he opted for calling out to you.

“(name)…”

Without even using your power, the conflict in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. you pushed your forehead to rest against his. His love burned through you, so intense, so like him. With a tiny tug at your lips, you lulled the raging storm in his mind. “Shh, Dabi. I know.”

With a parting peck, he was out the door. He didn’t know what was to come out of this mission, but he did know that he now had one more reason to come out alive.

#dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi boku no hero academia #dabi my hero academia #bnha dabi #mha dabi #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #todoroki toya x reader #dabi fanfic #dabi imagine #someone help why cant i write drabbles ffs #100 followers event

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chcrrysprite · 3 years

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10 fandoms, 10 characters, 10 tags :)

rules: show us your ten favorite characters from ten fandoms and then tag ten people to do the same.

i was tagged by @manonisamelon :) thank you!! i love to do these because it means i get to be extra and slap a filter on some screencaps. and also be opinionated. i was going to do this earlier on mobile, but tumblr started running Super slow and then didn’t save my draft, so here’s take two!

the movies / tv shows aren’t in any particular order, and some of them are kind of random...i evidently don’t watch that many things, so it took me a while to come up with ten LMAO. feel free to give your opinion about my favs in the replies...i’m interested to see if we have any in common or really don’t.

1.) theo raeken - teen wolf i think we all knew this one was going to be first. love u <3 alternate: liam or hayden, probably :)

2.) layla keating - all american i don’t even watch all american anymore because of the way the writers and the fanbase treats her :,( unproblematic but still for whatever reason controversial fav. no one could ever get me to hate her. argue with the wall alternate: asher

3.) jane villanueva - jane the virgin i’ve been re-watching jane the virgin for the third time and i think she’s the only one who i’ve Never had any problems with liking. so sweet and motivated, and even though she’s made some bad decisions (coughcough love triangle coughcough), idc what anybody says, she’s a good mom who does not deserve slander ! alternate: rafael

4.) john murphy - the 100 the 100 was genuinely a terrible show in all honesty, but he + emori made it worth watching through till the end...kind of. he’s the second murdery mf with childhood trauma on this list, but he stopped trying to kill people, so he’s good now :) alternate: emori (let me into ur relationship pls)

5.) alexis rose - schitt’s creek i just think that she was one of the funniest and i love her <3 she literally always had good love interests too. every single relationship was interesting. wish she would’ve gotten her endgame but i like to think she’s doing big things on her own :) alternate: stevie, patrick, david

6.) adam groff - sex education some of you are going to Hate me for this one but like,,, season two was His. love his development and everybody on here knows i’m a slut for redemption arcs so this shouldn’t be a surprise. alternate: eric, maeve, jackson

7.) nick miller - new girl absolute disaster of a man. keeps all of his overdue bills and unfiled paperwork in a shoebox in his closet. in So Much Debt. but he writes books and respects women and i fuckin love him alternate: winston, cece

8.) poe dameron - star wars sequel trilogy hhhhhh. i know that i loved his leadership skills and personality when i was watching the movies, but also i can’t recall anything he actually Did at the moment because i’m too busy looking at him. like. god. not to be horny on main or anything, but.... Whew Sir

9.) lupe - plan b (2021) plan b doesn’t really have a fandom and i’m biased because *victoria moroles* but pls,,, i love her so much. my favorite line of the whole movie came from her - “glad to know you spend your free time thinking about what my pussy looks like, megan” - and i’ve watched the movie twice and cried Both Times at the ending scene with her dad. once again, not to be horny on main, but there is literally No way to deny i like girls too after this movie LMFAOOO alternate: sunny! she and lupe are pretty much equal here, but i’ll take any excuse to talk about victoria, lupe, or hayden hdbfjs

10.) neil perry - dead poets society </3 </3 </3 help me alternate: todd or charlie

okay!! tags!! obviously you don’t have to do the whole thing with the pictures and explanations, i just like to waste my own time </3

@inabottlelikelightning @thecenturiestrickle @frustrateddumbbar @li0nh34rt @curlsinthewind @rosesraeken @idk-ilike5sos @theowhy @edge0fmydesiree @thiamficrecs :)

once again...very much inviting conversation in the notes :)

#tag games #10 fandoms 10 characters 10 tags

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s1cparvism4gna · 3 years

Text

I Like You A Lot

WARNINGS: cursing & angst

Pairings: Chloe Frazer x Nadine Ross, Sam Drake x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch, @courtenbae, @ammaliatrici

A/N: I will fix the read now later today

Chapter 18

Sam’s POV

I sighed as the wind pushed back my hair, air drying myself and my clothes a bit. Also it was hot as hell. So this nice breeze was doing me a great service. I wiped the shmutz off the tinted glass of a pair of aviators I happened to find in the back seat. “These are nice, heh?” I said, examining the quality and putting them on my face before turning to Sunny with a rather charming smile (if I do say so myself). She didn’t even move. She stayed with her chin resting in her hand as she leaned on the side of the car; Staring at the Indian wilderness as it passed by, wind pushing at her curls. I huffed and shook my head, noticing Chloe glancing at us from the rear view mirror. She frowned a bit and then returned her eyes to the rocky path before us.

“Look! Railroad tracks!” Nadine pointed out. Sunny’s head shot right up as she moved to the middle seat to lean forward for a better look. Right ahead in the distance was a bunch of abandoned cars on the tracks.

“We’ll stop here, then.” Chloe said, pulling on the hand brake and the car skidded in the mud for a second. All of us hopped out of the 4x4, our boots landing on the ground heavily. We all groaned. I was sure all of our bodies were aching— I, myself, was tired and sweaty. My hands were dirty and bruised (much like the rest of me) with a few cuts that had yet to be looked at. And I mean the way my knees felt after that simple jump… but it was better than being left to drown in a flooded chamber, I’ll tell you that. Luckily, my cigarettes had dried so immediately I pulled one and lit it. I needed one. With the way Sunny was acting and how this job was going, I needed a bit of nicotine in my system to help me along.

“Asav will definitely have lookouts throughout the area.” Nadine told us.

“Best be careful then, huh?” Sunny commented, adjusting her jeans.

“Right, right, right… And then we lose the tusk.” I added sarcastically. Sunny made a face. One I knew all too well. One she tended to make when she was done with whatever “pessimistic” outlook I tended to have on things.

“Jesus Christ, Sam—” Sunny groaned, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“Ay— I’m just bein’ realistic here!” I retorted. Nadine chimed in as well, also rather fed up with me.

“You’re welcome to stay behind if you’d like.” She said. I made a sarcastic expression, mocking her.

Chloe calmly hushed us up, shaking her head, tired of the ongoing arguments and petty comebacks between us all.

“All right, all right… Less talking, more walking.” She said before hopping off the cliff. Sunny looked at me in disbelief and forced out a rather derisive laugh.

“Sounds good to me.” She said, following Chloe off the cliff. I groaned stressfully; letting smoke fill my lungs and exit my nostrils as I watched her walk away, dropping down to the next level. I picked up my pride and began to follow them as well.

“So all that time with Asav and you couldn’t get any intel on the buyers?” Nadine asked me.

“He’s uh…. he’s a cagey one, Asav is. Never talked shop in front of me really.” I answered, adjusting my newfound sunglasses in the sunlight.

“Gee, I wonder why not…” I heard Sunny comment sardonically ahead of us.

“Sunny, you’re being very puerile right now.” I said to her.

“Ooo, look at the ex con using his big boy words.” She replied with a rapid fire tongue. I rolled my eyes and took another drag. I decided I’d be the grown up here and ignore it… Sort of.

“Hey, he believed me long enough to think I was an expert in all this Hoy-sah-la crap.” I said rather pigheadedly.

“It’s Hoysa-lah. Not Hoy- sah-la.” Sunny corrected me.

“All right, Hermione.” I shrugged, trying my best not to let her get to me. But, boy, she was really working on my nerves.

“Thanks for keeping him busy for us.” Chloe said suddenly, taking me out of my thoughts and smiling at me as she looked at me with those stunning blue eyes. It was clear to see why I slept with her to begin with. There was a calm about her that tended to ease even the most chaotic of souls. I wanted to be calmed too. I wanted to be near that energy for just a moment. But in retrospect, it wasn’t worth it. Not to have Sunny this upset with me. I’d take it back if I could… I ran my fingers through my hair nervously and nodded, feigning a confidence that wasn’t really there to begin with.

“Yeah, I mean, I knew everything would work out…. I just wanted to buy you guys some time…. in case you were coming to get me.” I said, looking over the edge of the next cliff. She placed a gentle roughed up hand on my arm and squeezed it.

“Of course we were!” She grinned. Her energy brought a faint smile to my face and I forced a laugh, leaning towards her.

“Seriously, though. Thanks. I thought I was a goner.” I whispered to her.

“I wouldn’t let that happen. Sunny wouldn’t let that happen.” She said, nodding in her direction. I sighed. Even being upset with me, she once again saved my ass. “And your brother would never let me hear the end of it.” She added. I burst into laughter as I followed her across the cliff. Sunny and Nadine both looked back at me. Neither was very happy with me. They seemed to be talking amongst themselves. I could only imagine what about.

We walked along the green grass, looking out at the tracks that hovered above a misty and grassy wetland. It was rather nice if I was being honest. India had spectacular views and I was glad I got to see it all. That Sunny got to see it all. She deserved to see the world more than anybody. I finished my cigarette and tossed the filter over the edge as we came upon a waterfalled cave. Looking in, there was a mudslide inside. “Let’s find out where this goes.” Chloe said before jumping in and sliding away. I stepped aside and gestured to the cave.

“Ladies first.” I sighed. Nadine glared at me, bumping her muscular shoulder into me as she passed, knocking me off balance.

“Very mature.” I grumbled as she slid down after Chloe. Sunny just walked by and slid down without even really looking at me. I took a deep breath and slid down after her.

“I found the train tracks! Sort of….” I heard Chloe say as I approached the bottom. Sitting at the door of the hill were a bunch of broken slabs of wood. The cave probably was once part of a train route from what I gathered. As we came out onto the sunlit cliff, we could see more tracks in the distance.

“It’s weird to see everythin’ sorta go back to normal… After bein’ around Hoysala ruins all day. More modern structures are showin’ up now.” Sunny said as she looked around. I took the opportunity to attempt a conversation again.

“Well it’s either British or Portuguese. So not quite modern. Probably around 18— aaand you don’t care…” I said, biting my lip. Sunny grunted as she dropped to the ground to follow Chloe. I threw my head back in discouragement. Nadine shrugged as she looked at me and began to go behind them. Then she stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me, her bright brown eyes narrowed.

“You did a stupid thing, Drake. She’s hurt.” She told me. I blinked at her a couple times. It seemed like she was maybe trying to…..help me. I wrinkled my bushy brows as I continued to listen to her. “I don’t know why but… she loves you. And she won’t say it. Not to your face. But I know she does care a great deal about you. Just give her some time.” She said. I was surprised. When did she start to care about how Sunny was feeling? Regardless, I took the advice and pushed on. Just as I jumped down, I watched Sunny be the first to cross a wooden beam. Immediately, that familiar niggling feeling kicked in.

“Sunny, what the hell?! Is that thing even stable?!” I yelled. She just kept going until she got to the other side.

“It’s fine. Hurry up and cross it before it’s not. Your luck, it’ll break in half.” She retorted, climbing a wall and crawling into a tight space. As she disappeared, I couldn’t help but to be surprised. Heights weren’t her thing. Now all of a sudden it’s “Balls to the Wall”, “No Guts, No Glory”? Maybe the job had cured her of her acrophobia. Or maybe I pissed her off that much…

I followed the girls across the beam and through the crawl space (And no. It didn’t break). Above us, the sound of a chopper could be heard. The winds from its propellers pushing the treetops about, shaking loose leaves to the ground. As long as we stayed in the shadows and tree lines, I knew we’d be fine. “Asav thinks we’re all dead. Let’s keep it that way.” Nadine said, before heading up more rocks. It was interesting seeing her on the other side of enemy lines. And even better, without a gun to my head. Or a knife to my throat. Maybe if I asked the right questions, I could find a glimpse of a person inside that walking dead shell.

“So, Nadine—” I began but she growled and folded her strong arms across her chest.

“We are not on a first name basis.” She said. I chuckled.

“Okay, fine… I heard you worked for Asav, too?” I asked, carefully.

“What about it?” She grunted, narrowing her eyes and cocking a thin brow.

“I mean… How did you deal with the torture?” I asked.

“Wha… Did he torture you??”

“Oh yeah...” I groaned in all seriousness. He didn’t torture me physically but he might as well have. “Wouldn’t stop talkin’ about himself or his cause. Like, I get it, man. You don’t gotta sell me on it— I’m just lookin’ to make some scratch, y’know?” I chuckled lightly. Chloe shook her head and groaned.

“I can’t stand when people prattle on incessantly.” She said, climbing the next short cliff ahead.

“God, me either.” I agreed. Then Sunny walked by making some odd noise of disgust.

“Wow, you have so much in common.” She said, staley before climbing the cliff behind Chloe. I took a deep breath to calm myself. At this point, she was really just irking me. I’m not exactly what you would call a patient man. But I was enjoying the job, to be honest. And I damn sure wasn’t gonna let her ruin it.

We followed Chloe up the inside of a waterfall’s cave and out through thick vines. “If I had known, I would’ve packed my machete.” She said simply, herself and Nadine pushing the vines apart. The way Sunny’s face lit up when she said that, almost made me forget I was in hot water for a moment. Her big brown eyes, widening and practically shimmering as her freckled cheeks fattened up when she gave that dazzling smile. I could feel my ears burning up and I turned away to light myself a cigarette. Chloe gave her a doting smile as she passed between the vines.

“You have a machete?” She asked, softly.

“Tell you what. We make it out of this alive? I’ll mail it to you.” Chloe grunted as she struggled to keep the vines apart. She nodded to Nadine to go next but just to be an ass, I slid in at the last second.

“Thank you, good gentlewomen.” I grumbled as I weaved my slender limbs through to the other side. Sunny just crossed her arms and scoffed at me. I huffed, dropping my shoulders and gesturing to the vines. “They’re gonna need someone to hold open the other end!” I said, trying to cover myself. But truthfully, I wasn’t a total ass. “Come grab the other side.” I told her as I let my cigarette hang loosely between my lips. I grabbed a vine towards the middle and began to pull.

She stared at me a moment and groaned lightly as she came to grab the other vine. She grunted as she began to pull as well, her muscles taut and flexing as she did as much as she could. Just then Nadine had come out, then Chloe. Soon as they were fine, the path was pretty clear. Even for Sunny, who had already run and jumped across the rushing ravine and was starting to climb up the seeable handholds. I rushed across after her just to make sure she’d be okay. She made it up and over the cliff with no problems. I was impressed. It was like for the first time, I was seeing Treasure Hunter Sunny Spurrs. She didn’t need me. She was excellent all on her own. Which in a way made me feel stupid for thinking my selfish thoughts before. I climbed over the cliff and Sunny reached out a hand to help me up. Just then, I could hear rocks crumbling below us. I looked down to see Chloe falling into the ravine and sliding down off a cliff. All I could hear was her screaming. The both of us (and I’m sure Nadine) gasped, calling out her name.

“Shit!” I exclaimed. But Nadine raised her hand to us a moment and listened closely. I guess she could hear something we couldn’t.

“She’s okay!” She yelled to us. “I’m gonna follow her! You two stay close! We’ll meet up!” She said before jumping into the ravine and down the mudslide, after Chloe. I could hear Sunny groan and swear loud as hell like she couldn’t stand to be with me or something. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. We didn’t have time for this.

“Alright, ENOUGH!” I barked, tossing my cigarette off the edge, forcing out the excess smoke from my lungs through my nostrils in an ire manner. I stood up and turned to look at her with a screwed up expression. Sunny looked at me like I had lost my mind. And maybe I had… I wasn’t so sure. “You’re gonna have to talk to me sometime...” I told her. Begged her, really. She shook her head, chuckling at me. She placed her hands on her hips and bit her lip, standing her ground.

“You really wanna do this now?” Sunny asked me, raising her voice as she approached me slowly. I nodded. I was amped up and tired of the third degree.

“When the hell else are we gonna be able to do it, Sunny?! Yeah! Yeah, I wanna do this now. Right now!” I said in an authoritative voice, puffing my chest out a little. A snarl curled at her lips as she boldly looked me in the eyes.

“Alright then, let’s fuckin’ get to it!!” She shrilled, angrily. Last time she yelled at me like this, I had left for Libertalia without her and we both thought Nathan had gotten hurt. She was just as scary as I remembered. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked this fight so soon. But it had to happen. We needed it out of the way so we could work without distractions. Most of all…. I just wanted my girl back. For real this time. Sunny looked up at me, her eyes never leaving mine, nostrils flaring like an angry bull and her lips pursed; possibly biting her tongue from starting off with the hard hitting questions right away. But this is Sunny we’re talking about. She couldn’t help it. It just wasn’t in her nature to be subtle or tactical in any way. She had to attack it head on.

“Chloe? Really, bro? No offense to Chloe at all, but how desperate are you?!” She exclaimed. I had to laugh. Never in my life had I been before called….

“Desperate?! No, sweetheart. I ain’t desperate—” I chuckled, raising my voice in irritation, both of us beginning to lose our temper.

“So then what the hell, Sam?!” She shouted, furrowing her brow at me. That wasn’t fair. She’d been holding onto this anger about me and Chloe for so long. Yet she hadn’t brought a word about herself to the table.

“What about you?! Huh?!” I shouted, opening my arms to her, welcoming any excuses she could give me. I might be a hardass but I do have my feelings, too. “You don’t get to yell at me about sleepin’ with other people, Sunny!”

“And why the fuck not?!” She yelled. Since we were putting it all out there, I didn’t think it’d hurt if I begged the question.

“How long you been sleepin’ with him?” I asked in a tone so calm, it even scared myself. I stared her in her eyes, waiting for an answer I thought already knew. Her expression never faltered though.

“Who?” She asked, playing dumb. But she knew exactly who I was talking about.

“Erik.” I said, firmly. After I brought it up, my heart began to speed. To be honest, I was a little scared to know. But I could see she really thought I was oblivious to it all.

“Sam—” she began.

“Do I look stupid to you?! Eh, do I?!” I interrupted. “D-Did ya think I didn’t notice? That I didn’t see it? All those little looks he gave you? And still gives you! The way he hugs and kisses all over you? ‘My little Sunflower’?!” I bombarded her with information and evidence that didn’t take me long to pick up during my week of being in San Francisco. She and everyone around her was an open book. The look on Erik’s face when he looked at her like she was the last source of water on earth. Like he was absolutely infatuated— no. In love with this woman. I knew it well. It was the face I made at her quite often.

“Sam, I told you he’s my best frie—” she started but I didn’t want excuses.

“Just answer the goddamn question!” I snapped. She was talking around in circles and I didn’t have time for it. We didn’t have time for it.

“Since long before I met you.” She growled, staring me deep into my eyes. I stared her down and she looked right back. I wasn’t intimidating her for anything. Why I thought I could for a moment, I didn’t know. Nobody scared Sunny Spurrs. Something about knowing officially that she slept with Erik… It hurt more than I thought. And suddenly, I began to understand how she must’ve been feeling. On the other hand though, I couldn’t help but wonder… I winced before bringing up my next question. This one I hoped wasn’t true.

“So you’ve been leading him on? Have you been leading me on?” I asked. I couldn’t be lead on. I didn’t have time for it. I was a grown man with grown man shit to do, treasures to discover. Putting energy into something that wasn’t going anywhere was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Sam, you fucked several girls in several countries. And you fucked Chloe! You don’t get to be pissed over the one guy I fucked, out of your seven! Did it really take so many girls to realize I was waitin’ on you?!” She exploded, throwing her arms about. Her brows knitted together and her lips curled into a snarl. I was shocked…. but she was right. As I looked into her now watering eyes, I lit myself another cigarette and shook my head. She continued on. “All summer…. I did nothin’ but think about you and your sorry ass!” Tears began spilling past her cheeks as she spoke. Here we go: I’d done it.

“Yes. I did fuck Erik. I fucked him as soon as we got back from Libertalia. One time! It was routine. He was safe, he was my friend. And I love him so much but… I’m not in love with him. After the one time we slept together, I called it off. I couldn’t do it anymore…. I just kept thinkin’ about you. So what’s your excuse asshole?!” Her lips trembled and she crossed her arms over her chest protectively, running her hands down her arms to calm her raging nerves.

I really didn’t know what to say… I began wrestling with my feelings, tapping the ashes off of my cigarette. If I kept her around, that was bye bye freedom. If I didn’t tell her how I felt, I’d lose her forever… Once I weighed these options, I knew then what I had to do. “You have no idea… how hard I tried to forget you.” was what came out. For some reason, when I argued with Sunny, things tended to come out far different than intended. In all actuality, she was the intimidating one. She made a face at my sudden comment. And I knew how it sounded already, so I took the time to get ahead of it.

“I tried... so very hard to get over you. I didn’t want that attachment— I didn’t need it. Not when I’d just gotten my life back! Not when there was still so much to do... Selfish thinking: I thought you’d only slow me down.” She looked hurt. But I had a point to all of this. I just had to get it together. “As cheesy as it sounds…… ugh…. my heart had other plans for me. I always thought the guys in the movies were overdoin’ the whole ‘missing you’ thing but…. Every time I turned around, you were there. In a beer, in a song, in some crappy silver diner menu… some stupid bracelet...” I began, chuckling nervously as I gestured to the jewelry on her arm. She didn’t laugh but a twitch came about the corner of her full lips. She looked down at her wrist and touched the bracelet a moment as if she’d forgotten it had been there all along. I didn’t know if anything I was saying was getting through to her, but I continued anyway, just bearing my feelings to her.

“Some girl tried talking to me once… All I could see in her eyes were yours. It annoyed me to shit, so I fucked her. Hoping that just maybe… I’d stop thinkin’ about you. And it worked… Not for long though. It wasn’t until I called someone else your name that I—”

“Wow, Sam. Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you called some other girl my name—” she said, starting to storm off but I grabbed her by the arm and ran in front of her to keep her from going anywhere.

“Sunny, let me finish!” I snapped. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive about it. In all honesty, it was the nerves. I couldn’t fuck this part up. I couldn’t afford to. I couldn’t afford to lose her on behalf of my stupidity. This was the important part and I needed to say it. I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. Her expression was as still as stone but she stayed quiet and let me continue as I struggled to make sense of things.

“Chloe was like a wake up call for me. And I realized…. when it didn’t feel right… that I only wanted you. I didn’t care how— I just wanted you. And then back there, I thought you were gone…. I’d never been so worried to lose someone…. Y’know, it’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone and I was scared.” I said.

“Scared of what?” She asked.

“To feel…” I answered rather quickly. I hated to do it but if there was ever a time that I needed to be vulnerable, it was now. “I was scared to care… I didn’t wanna face the inevitable that I would hurt you somehow… Or that I wouldn’t be able to care for you like you’d want… I might’ve gotten what you wanted a little confused. But I think I get it now...” Her expression softened a little and I approached her, linking my large pinky with her small first finger, gently swinging out hands between us. I chewed on my lip and looked off a moment before staring into her hypnotizing brown eyes. It was time that I owned up to my mistakes…

“I shouldn’t have expected you to wait for me… I guess I just thought that maybe when I was done with my foolishness that you’d still be there. Which was stupid of me— gorgeous as you are.” I babbled. I stared at her beautiful face and began to let the apologies pour. I’d lay it as thick as I need to. I just wanted my girl back. “I screwed up, Sun. I know that. And I know… I haven’t exactly been the best character in your life… But every second I spend with you means more to me than you even know and I can’t lose th—” Before I could even finish, Sunny placed her hands on either side of my face and brought me down to kiss her warm lips. I could feel a faint smile on her as she kissed me. I seemed to melt into her as my hands circled her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. I rested my forehead against hers, parting our lips to give us a moment to breath.

“I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Whether I liked it or not. Although, you kinda didn’t give me a choice so...” I laughed and a small giggle sprung from her lips. One that sounded like music to my ears. It made me smile. A bout of seriousness came around as I spoke. “I need you, Sunny. And I was wrong. You don’t slow me down or hold me back. You’re in this with me. And you can hold your own. I won’t doubt you again, sweetheart.” I told her. I could see her eyes dart over every feature of my face as her thumbs stroked at my cheekbones.

“I forgive you…. and I’m sorry—”

“No, no, baby— don’t be sorry. I understand why… I really do.” I cooed, caressing her cheek and staring into her eyes. “Hey… let’s table this for later, eh? Catch up with the girls, go make some money? Maybe stop an arms deal or somethin’?” I asked, running my hands down her arms. She gave the airiest giggle. Boy, it was much better to be on her good side than bad. The whole silent treatment/ cold shoulder shit? Brutal.

“Sounds like a plan.” She said as I threw an arm around her. Suddenly, she shoved me and leaned back away.

“What?” I asked in confusion. She tuned up her face and covered her nose with her hand.

“Ross was right. You smell like ass.” She croaked our. I burst into laughter.

“Oh fuck off, loser!” I grinned, flipping her off. She just interlocked her fingers with mine and kissed my cheek.

“Let’s go do work.” She said with a smirk. And with that, we were off to finish the job.

Read More on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26555698

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lokiandbuckyaremine · 4 years

Text

Some Saturday Morning...

Prompt: Hi! I saw your prompt list and I think 2+12+20 would be an interesting combination for a Loki imagine/drabble!! Just saying 💜~ Anonymous

2. Whoa, what is with the attitude change?

12. Feel free to admire me

20. You’re the biggest dork of the century!

(PROMPT LIST)

Summary: Your boyfriend, Loki, doesn’t like to get involved with much. But when it comes to helping you or making you happy, he will immediately join in. Desperate measures come when your coffee machine breaks, and your heroic boyfriend jumps in to save the day. Hehe.

Warnings: Some swearing, floofy Loki, mentions of smutty times?, and bad writing haha

You HATED mornings. The grogginess that filled your head, the disgusting taste in your mouth, the headache that pounded through your temples, and just the pure evil vibe it gave you. The only thing that made it better was your mischievous boyfriend, who laid beside you in a peaceful slumber. His jet black hair sprawled out on his pillow as his soft pale skin glowed in the morning light. God, he was gorgeous. You smiled to yourself, thinking of the night before. Loki was an interesting person, kept to himself mostly, but when it came to you he was at his prime. He loved you more than words could say and wanted to be yours forever. When you decided to move in together, you swear it was the best decision of your life.

Since your body was awake, and you knew sleep was a lost cause, you dragged your body out of bed, careful not to wake the man on the side of you. Immediately when you stood up, a headache flooded to your temples. This means coffee. Caffeine headaches at their best. If “coffee before talkie” was a person, you’d be the living version. If Loki was up before you, he already had a fresh pot brewing. But today was not the case and you’d have to face your doom....the coffee machine. Every time you tried to start or run that damn thing, it always broke down. You were in no mood to deal with that today, so you were determined to make that stupid machine work for you.

Trudging over to the counter, you opened the cabinet to pull out your mug. It was a gift from Loki, that had a picture of the both of you in front of a giant Christmas tree. Fumbling through the rest of the cabinets, you came across your premium roast coffee grounds and a filter. Double checking the right measurements, you placed the filter in the top part of the brewer, and then began to scoop the grounds in. Feeling bold and in need of a stronger coffee, you added a few more scoops in. Next you added the water, something you quite often forgot to do, and pressed the brew button. Crossing your fingers, you stared at the machine in hopes of it finally working. A whirring sound arose, and you got happy since that means it was filtering the water through.

All of a sudden, the machine made strange and loud gurgling noises and coffee began spewing out of the top. You freaked and frantically started grabbing and throwing towels at the machine. Screaming at the machine, you unplugged it and slouched down on the counter. “I FUCKIN GIVE UP!!!!” If anything was going to make your headache worse, it was definitely this. Moments later you heard loud footsteps down the stairs. “My love, what is going on?! I thought the house was falling” Your shirtless boyfriend rushed over to find you in a ball on the kitchen floor, covered in dry coffee. He couldn’t help but giggle at your defeated state.

Noticing his presence, you looked up at him with annoyed eyes. He hummed quietly and sat down next to you, pulling you into his long arms. Pressing a lingering kiss to your head, he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Sorry love, but you look so cute, defeated on our kitchen floor. Coffee machine trouble again?” You huffed and nodded. “Yep, and my head fuckin hurts. Every fuckin morning is a disaster if you aren’t up before me. It’s like I break everything I touch.” Loki started to rub circles on your arm, and smiled to himself. “You haven’t broke me yet.” Looking up at him and rolling your eyes, he flashed back his signature mischievous smile. “Would you like me to fix it, love?”

You sat up quickly and stared at him blankly. “Whoa, what is with the attitude change?” Loki ran his hands through his hair, tying it back loosely. He stared back, and asked “Uh, what do you mean?” You giggled softly and batted your eyes back at him. “Mr. ‘I don’t help anyone’ now wants to fix my coffee machine? The same man that tells me I’m on my own. You feelin ok there, babe?” Loki laughed along and stood, stretching his arm out to help you up. “If it means making you happy, I’ll do anything. And plus, my hands are quite useful,” he said wiggling his eyebrows at you. You lightly slapped his bare chest, and reached up to kiss him. “You’re the best, thank you.” Walking over to your mess on the counter, Loki sighed. “Damn girl, you really aren’t the best when it comes to machines. I have to ask, did you or the coffee start the fight?”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled up a stool and sat at the counter. Staring at your tall and hunky boyfriend lean over the counter, you couldn’t help but bite your lip looking at his muscles flex with every movement he made. This is what made mornings better....seeing Loki in barely any clothes. Being the slickster that he was and sensing your gaze, Loki looked over to you and smirked. “Feel free to admire me. But it looks like you’re doing that already.” Blushing, you grabbed a sponge that was lying on the counter and threw it at him. “Shut up, your Highness and get back to fixing my machine.” He chuckled deeply, and started to remove the top lid from the machine. “Mmm I love when you’re demanding, baby.” Hearing his submissive yet silky voice had you squirming on the stool, as you attempted to stop the heat that was rising below your stomach. You wondered if he would just take you on the counter right now....

Loki’s verbal “aha!” pulled you from your dirty thoughts. “Did you find what’s wrong babe?” He nodded and looked over to you, unamused. “Love, you plugged the filter. You sure you put the right amount of coffee in it?” You shifted your eyes around (attempting to look innocent) as he walked over and placed his hands on your lap. Gulping, you looked up at your boyfriend’s crystal blue eyes. “Well, uh, ya see I was super cranky this morning and had a huge headache so I thought ‘what the heck?’, I could use a stronger coffee. So i might’ve added a few more tablespoons of grounds more than I should have, causing a rainstorm of coffee that dried all over me.” Your awkward rant sent Loki into a roar of laughter, as he pulled your small body to his. “You’re the biggest dork of the century! You know that?” Pressing kisses to your forehead and face, you smiled at his tender touches. “I know, but you love me anyways.”

Running your hands over his chiseled abs, which were eye level with you, you winked up at him. “I love you more than words could say, my princess. BUT next time, just wake me up, love. I’ll make you one without breaking anything in the process.” You darted your eyes and him and hopped off the stool. “Yea yea, whatever you say, Loki. Now can you please fix this damn thing so I can have my coffee?” Before he could answer, he quickly swept you up bridal style and smothered you in a passionate kiss. “Nope! You’ve been staring at me all morning, my pet, and we are going to do something about that.” Maybe Saturday mornings weren’t so bad after all....

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A/N: Anon, I really hope you enjoyed! This is actually based off of something similar that happened to me, but I made it more fun. PLEASE LIKE, REBLOG, and COMMENT as always. REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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#loki x reader #loki #loki x reader fluff #coffee #marvel imagine #loki imagine #story prompt #tom hiddleston #requests

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

Text

The Fiancé: Chapter Six

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The title has been taken from the Ella Fitzgerald song of the same name.

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

It’s Only A Paper Moon

WEDNESDAY

“I am in heaven.”

“Doll’, this is Y/N’s wedding, not yours.”

“We have the whole place to ourselves, I can try on one thing, right?”

Well, the first part of that is true. Sitting on a couch not designed for sitting on, you play with your hands in your lap as your gaze travels the room. Nat had, she’d told you before you’d left that morning, bought the whole place out, for the sake of sensationalism, security and it just seemed like something a very famous person would do.

‘Sensationalism’ is so far so successful; there is a crowd of people similar in size to the one at the cake shop outside, trying to look through the French windows, though you’re located at the back of the shop. As for security, it means Nat doesn’t have to plant people inside and you won’t get crowded and overwhelmed by people coming up to you, and for seeming like something a famous person would do? Yeah, probably, you don’t know.

“Just have some fun,” Nat had said as you’d gone down in the elevator. “It’s just trying on some dresses and having a fun time with your friends.”

Fun.

You’d nearly laughed. But, you’d just smiled and nodded, because that’s what you do now, smile and nod and go along with things. If you don’t, that leads to conversations, and conversations lead to you having to admit to things, like the panic attack you’d had that morning as you’d dressed or the fact you have feelings for your best friend and every moment of this week is both wonderful and torturous.

Speaking of... you haven’t seen Steve today.

Last night, after you’d woken up from your nap, you’d showered, masturbated while in there, ‘cause, hey, things had only gotten more stressful, and changed and wandered downstairs, but Steve was nowhere to be seen. Then you’d heard sounds of machines in the gym room and realised he was working out. He’d left a note for you on the island, though, saying there were leftovers in the oven of what he’d cooked. You’d eaten alone, watching TV.

You did that for about two hours, and Steve didn’t emerge once, still working out. You hadn’t thought anything of it, though, he is super-human. So, you’d gone to bed, leaving him a note in return saying thank you, you hadn’t wanted to disturb him and that you were going to bed, with a little drawn smiley face.

There’d been no note when you’d come down after calming yourself and pulling your shoes on, not wanting to be caught out like yesterday morning, just Nat.

But space is good for you two.

Even if you never usually go this long without at least messaging each other.

But this isn’t a ‘usually’ time.

“Y/N?”

The Christmas jazz music filters back into your hearing as your head snaps up to look at Dolly, sat on a gorgeous pale pink shell chair, her big eyes wider than usual.

“Yeah, sorry?”

Her smile is wide and her eyes seem to be only getting wider. “I can try on one thing, right?”

You nod as you smile. “Uh, yeah. As bridesmaids, you probably actually should try something.”

She releases a sound akin to a squeal and claps her hands together. “Great! What colour do you want for us?”

“Uh...” Oh, you know this, you talked about it with Nat in the car... “... Red.”

Bridget looks at you, then exhales a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God, I thought you were gonna carry on and say ‘white and blue’.”

Your lips twitch as you tilt your head. “Come on, we’re not gonna be that on the nose.”

Bridget raises their eyebrows but before they can retort a woman, Sally, appears with an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne inside, and three glasses. All three of you give some kind of very grateful sound before thanking her as she sets them down on the glass table before you. You also all cheer as she pops the champagne, (God, who are we... desperate for free alcohol, that’s who), and thank her again as she fills the glasses and hands one to you each.

Beaming, she stands back, her hands clasped together. “Can I get anything else for y’all?”

You hum as you quickly swallow your mouthful. “Mmh. Yes, please. Do you have any dresses in red, for these two?”

She glances at them, her gaze sweeping over them and you realise she’s expertly measuring them, and nods. “Absolutely. What style would you like?”

“Uh, any, we’ve got time.”

Her beam grows as she nods. “Wonderful, I’ll be five minutes.”

You take another sip as she trots off to the back room. Much like at the cake shop, you’d said to the shop attendants assisting you, all five of them now having nothing to do but assist you, that you will try everything and anything. Like Damilola, they’d looked delighted, probably used to, as you’d seen on reality shows, people coming in with very specific requests.

And, boy, do you all have the time to try every damn thing on. Dolly and Bridget have the day off, Yvette being very understanding at the short notice, officially, though unofficially she probably isn’t too pleased to not have her best receptionist and the Head of IT on the same day.

Who am I kidding, she never breaks a sweat. Probably a good time to get those interns trained up, too.

You also have the time as you were meant to be visiting two places today, though the first hadn’t exactly gone to plan. In other words, you’d walked out.

“Oh, our, uhm, our plus-size section isn’t very large.”

You fold your arms as Bridget raises their eyebrows and Dolly narrows her eyes.

“Oh? And why not?”

The woman, Candace, looks between you, her cheeks pink. “Oh, because we, uhm...”

You raise your eyebrows, placing your hands on the counter. “I’m about to blow your mind, Candace, but bigger people get married, too. And you’ve just lost my custom.”

You’d walked out seconds after, a smug smile hinting on your lips as Candace had called after you, practically begging for you to return, that they could order whatever you wanted in, but you’d just kept walking, Bridget telling Candace to save it as Dolly looped her arm through yours.

Nat had apologised profusely once you’d gotten into the SUV she was going to spend the day ferrying you three around in, saying it hadn’t occurred to her to check, as Dolly and Bridget had stared at her, still unused to being in her presence.

Of course it hadn’t occurred to her.

This place, though, The Pearl... It’s gorgeous. Despite not having felt offended at the last place, just angry and exasperated, you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. What if this was going to be your whole day? Going from place to place just because they were dumb and exclusionary? You’d felt welcomed the moment you walked in, though, all five assistants and Sally smiling as they greeted each of you in turn, and all Sally, obviously the senior member from how she led the conversation, had done was ask you your usual dress size and that had been it.

You look at the interior again, taking in the pale pink and white walls, framed photos on them of dresses or models in them, or real people on their wedding days in them, the plush cream carpet, the crystal chandeliers, the gorgeously decorated Christmas trees in each corner, the fairy lights adorning the counter by the front door.

Yeah... I can have fun here. And why the fuck not? Trying on dresses is always fun, no matter what, and there’s free champagne and I’m here with Dolly and Bridge’.

Sitting back on the pale pink couch, the tightening in your chest easing, you sip your champagne with a smile.

Am I a champagne person now? This week’s telling me yes.

Bridget stretches their legs out as they sigh contentedly. Looking at you, they smile softly. “How are you feeling about the interview?”

You pull a face as you hold the glass between both hands. “You know about that?”

“Uh, it’s been trending on Twitter for the last two days is all anyone’s talking about.”

You groan as you take another, longer sip.

“So how do you feel?” Dolly gently repeats the question.

You smile lightly, looking between them with raised brows. “How do you think?”

She smiles softly, endearing assurance in her tone. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Then again... you can talk about it freely with these two, they’ll understand without feeling guilty or worrying too much or treating you like a breakable vase.

You exhale a breath, one you feel like you’ve been holding for days. “I don’t know, it’s live and we haven’t been able to get an idea of what they’re gonna ask yet and... I just don’t want to think about it too much, really.”

Bridget rests their arm on the back of the couch, turning their body to you. “That’s not like you. I’ve watched you spend months preparing for one meeting.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.” They point a finger at you. “This is a meeting, and you’re pitching your marriage.”

You have no idea how close to the truth that is.

You take a breath. “Can I practise on you two, then?”

Both of them perk up, smiles wide.

“Absolutely!” Dolly enthuses. “We’ve been dying for you to tell us all the details, we’ve been so patient.”

“And a little bit offended,” Bridget adds good-naturedly with an arched brow.

“I know, I know,” you smile, even as your chest twinges.

“It’s fine, two birds, one stone, you can make up for it now and practise,” Bridget says, holding their glass on their knee and fixing you with an expectant gaze and adopting a stereotypical news reader voice. “So, how did this happen, when was the first kiss, the first fondle, the engagement, I want every dirty detail, and the romantic details, too.”

“Okay,” you say through your laughter as Dolly giggles. “All right, all right... God, I’m gonna need more champagne.”

—

He could see the headline now; Cap Goes To Seek Former Flame’s Approval!

At least it would be better than the one’s that had been written when he’d gone on two dates with Sharon. Had that been why they’d both ended it? The media pressure, the questions, the constant hounding? No, but maybe that had been a factor in it. Sharon is great, but... He hadn’t felt a real connection, and neither had she.

He’d only felt that connection a few times in his life, so he knew when something was worth fighting for.

"Engaged, hm?” Peggy Carter fixes him with her gaze, an eyebrow arched, and, God, nothing ever passes her by, not even now.

A smile pulling at his lips, he raises his own eyebrows a little. “Peg—”

She exhales a laugh. “You can’t tell me, I understand.” Lacing her fingers together on her stomach, she smiles. “I do like her.”

“You’ve never met her,” he reminds her gently.

“I know,” she adjusts her head on her pillow, “but the way you talk about her makes me like her. How is she doing with all of this?”

He nods, his own hands clasped together. “Okay, I think. She’s tough.”

Peggy looks at him, her jaw moving minutely. “Hm.”

“What?”

Her lips lift a little, her features soft. “People called me tough. Said I handled things okay. But I can’t tell you how many times I cried in my office, then pulled myself together. I don’t mind crying, it’s very therapeutic, but I would have hated them to see me do it, hated what they would have twisted it into. Or even some of my friends, how they might have gently told me to maybe cut back my hours or something like that, to take on less. But just because I cried it didn’t mean I couldn’t handle matters.”

Steve opens his mouth when she continues, “Did you know that after you went into the ice our relationship is all anyone wanted to talk to me about? Interview me about? Even when I became Director of SHIELD the same questions followed me around, ‘What do you think Steve would think? Would he be proud? Do you still miss him?’”

Something in him twists as he looks at her. “I’m sorry, Peg.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Lord, I’m not saying it to make you feel bad, Steve, still so dramatic...” Her features soften again, but her gaze fixes on his. “I’m just trying to give a little perspective, having been in the position she is. It’s not easy.”

He exhales a long breath, his shoulders dropping a little. “That’s what I’m afraid of, actually.”

Her brow dips. “What do you mean?”

“Like you just said, it’s not easy being with me.”

“Steve Rogers...” His gaze, having lowered, meets hers again, and he finds it faintly incredulous. “... It’s the easiest thing in the world being with you. You are easy to be with. It’s the rest of the world that’s the problem.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “I liked where that was goin’ but that last part doesn’t make me feel any better.”

She huffs out a laugh, tilting her head. “But the rest of the world doesn’t matter, though, does it? Not if you’re with someone you love, hm?”

He looks at her, his lips lifting a little higher. “No, it doesn’t.”

—

“... So, it was only a couple of weeks ago... We were out at the park we like to walk in, you know the one, I go on about it all the time, the trees are always on my Instagram ‘cause it’s just so pretty, ‘nd it’s quiet, y’know, we’re in the middle of winter, and it’s dark, no one wants to really be out walking, except us...”

You’ve had a bit more champagne than you probably should, but, hey, go away, morals, this is a nice story.

“... so we’re walking, and we’re just talking, and then we stop, and we’re looking up at the stars...”

Dolly, Bridget, Sally, and the other five shop assistants, Donna, Nicole, Max, Jamie and Priya all sigh together at the imagery, and your eyebrows raise and you nod in an expression of, ‘I know’.

“... and then he just gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him.”

They all sigh again, a couple of them putting their hands to their chests and ‘aww’ing and you nod as you sip your champagne because, yeah, that is very cute.

Good one, me.

“What did he say? How did he ask you?” Max asks, all the assistants bunched together on a long couch they’d dragged over.

You take another, longer sip of champagne because what did he say...

“... Oh, well, that’s just between me and him,” you say with a coy smile and they all boo good-naturedly.

Nice one.

“That’s such a lovely story,” Sally smiles warmly and you return it before raising your eyebrows.

“Shall we carry on trying these gorgeous dresses?”

They all cheer and the assistants get to their feet and scurry off to the back to find more for you and Dolly and Bridget. You look at your two friends, Dolly in a yellow ballgown, Bridget in a multi-coloured floral suit, and beam. You are wearing an ivory lace number that hugs your figure and then flows out just below your hips, and are trying very hard not to spill champagne on it.

The session had quickly escalated into Dolly and Bridget trying on whatever they wanted between red dresses, and you just putting on whatever was brought out. You’d told Sally you were here to get an idea of what you wanted, but that you’d be returning very soon. Nat has scheduled in another dress shopping day for Friday and you’d quickly messaged her about half an hour ago while you were changing to cancel wherever that was and make it here. She hadn’t argued.

You’re also giving little bits of details here and there to practise for the interview, your first kiss (at your place after watching a film), when you’d said I love you, (at his place after having dinner and watching a film together), and the story of how he proposed. You’re going to have to remember all this to tell Steve, though, so you keep making notes on your phone as you get changed.

You’ve also sent him a message because you still haven’t spoken.

You know he’s with Peggy, though, so he absolutely won’t be checking his phone, but...

It just feels strange.

“Right...” Your attention comes back into the room as Sally and Jamie appear with an armful of dresses each, “... We have a vintage style one here that we think y’all are gonna love.”

Dolly claps her hands together as Bridget gasps dramatically.

“Vintage? Oh, he’s absolutely gonna love that.”

You don’t know why that makes you feel warm. It’s not like he’s actually going to see you in it... Unless...

—

“... Thank you so much! ... We will! We’ll see you Friday!”

You have to practically drag Dolly out of the back doors of The Pearl, the three of you giggling as you wave at the assistants. Who knew you could become such firm friends with people in the space of in five hours? Well, two bottles of champagne will do that.

You’re on the higher end of tipsy, in a lovely, warm, chatty way, and you have lined your stomach and soaked some of it up, Sally having ordered you all food so you wouldn’t have to leave and 1) Face the crowd, and 2) You couldn’t be bothered to leave, really.

The crowd is also the reason you’re leaving out the back doors, none of you wanting to face the horde outside. It has grown throughout the day, people desperate to get even the tiniest glimpse of you and what you’re wearing. Priya had closed the curtains after an hour, though, and they’d had two of their security guards stationed outside the front doors and it was just bliss. You’d had the chance to forget all about the outside world and just have some fun. Moving across the staff parking lot for The Pearl and a couple of surrounding shops, people haven’t had the chance to get in because it’s guarded, and the man whose job that is looks up from his newspaper in his little station, then looks back down.

Bliss.

Nat waits for you in the SUV, those sunglasses on, one hand leaning against the steering wheel.

“Such a ‘top’ pose,” Bridget stage-whispers and you’re all falling into giggles again.

You’re still gigging as you climb into the car, you in the passenger seat, Dolly and Bridget behind you. Nat’s lips twitch as she raises an eyebrow.

“Did we all have a fun time?”

“So fun.” Dolly, who is usually the most intimidated by Nat, which isn’t surprising considering she has a crush on her and they’ve both only met her three times before, including today, launches into a glowing review of the shop and day, “Everyone was so nice and the dresses and suits and jumpsuits and shoes are gorgeous, I can’t wait until we go back, oh my God, it’s all I’m gonna think about tomorrow...”

Nat’s smile lingers on her lips as she heads towards Dolly’s apartment, Dolly carrying on for the whole journey with Bridget occasionally butting in to add a comment. You laugh the whole way, your cheeks almost hurting from how much you’ve been grinning.

Nat parks up outside Dolly’s building, and turns in her seat, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head and meeting Dolly’s gaze, which provokes a pink blush to rise on her cheeks.

“Sounds like a really good day, then.”

Dolly just nods now, swallowing lightly. “Yep.”

Glancing from her to Bridget, Nat smiles and you think you hear Bridget let out the quietest of sounds. Wanting to save them both, or maybe they don’t want to be saved, they could be loving gazing into her eyes, who knows at this point, you turn to them, too.

“Oke doke, we’ll see you later, Doll’, I’ll text you when Sam and I are on the way.”

Bridget’s eyes whip to you, their mouth dropping open. “Sam’s picking us up?!”

You can’t stop your smile from widening, your eyebrows rising. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God, right, I need to go home and get ready now, Doll’ get out, I only have three hours, oh my God...”

Dolly is laughing so hard she nearly trips out of the SUV, and one hand is on your chest as the other wipes at your eyes as you laugh. Dolly waves from the pavement as she grins before she trots into the building, and all feelings of intimidation have left Bridget as they point ahead.

“Step on it, Nat, this is a national emergency, go...”

Nat just shakes her head as she turns back around, but she’s still smiling and you’re still laughing. “All right, all right, don’t worry, hold on...”

And, boy, does she mean it.

How does she drive this fast and this safely.

—

There’s just something about getting ready for a night-out while you’re tipsy.

Sometimes, if you haven’t had a chance to pre-drink, you have a few moments of ‘ugh, do I really want to go out, I can’t be bothered, there’s that new show out, I’m so tired, oh my God, what if I do something embarrassing...’ but now, the champagne having only worn off a little from what you made yourself for dinner, and, okay, it probably didn’t help that you also made yourself an alcoholic beverage to have with it, you’re still quite buzzed.

Steve hadn’t been home yet and Nat had left a few minutes after making sure you were inside the penthouse so you’d been able to play your music and yell along to it. You’d been able to take your time getting ready, trying on a few outfits before settling on a true classic number that makes a lot of appearances on nights out because 1) you look amazing in it, and 2) you look really damn amazing in it.

You’d even, Nat having requested it, taken a selfie once you were ready and uploaded it to your Instagram story, along with a few gifs of glasses clinking together and someone dancing.

Job done, you’d returned to the group chat you have with Dolly and Bridget and sent them the picture, accompanied with, ‘time to fuckin party’. You could send them a picture of you in a bin bag and they’d still reply with the same thing they do for every photo, and you would for them.

Bridge’ 🌟: Y E S

Dolly ✨: WHO IS SHE???

Bridge’ 🌟: INCREDIBLE, SHOW STOPPING, AMAZING, ICONIC, LIFE CHANGING

Dolly ✨: I LOVE IT

They swiftly send their own photos.

You: LOOK AT US

Bridge’ 🌟: WHO ARE WE

God, they’re great.

You ignored the slight, unpleasant flip in your stomach at seeing Steve’s message, that he sent an hour ago and you haven’t replied to yet.

I hope you had a good day, have fun tonight x

You message each other every day so you never send ‘kisses’, so this just makes you think he’s done it to soften the blow of a slightly blunt message. Is it blunt? Or are you reading too much in to it? He has had a busy day based on what Nat told you when she’d driven you to the penthouse. He was seeing Peggy all day and then going over to Bucky’s to see him, and then they are going to have their own night out.

That’s busy, right.

Whatever, he doesn’t have to reply all the time, it’s fine.

You reply:

Thanks, you too! :-) x

Which is the kind of reply you’d give to someone at work.

You’d ignored your phone vibrating as people, strangers, react to your Instagram story, slipped it into your bag and headed downstairs.

If you were an ego-maniac, Sam’s reaction on top of your friends would just make your head explode.

“Well, hello, ma’am!”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Nu-uh, let me look at you... Wo-ow. You look amazing.”

“Stop it... but thank you, I know.”

The moment you got into his SUV, (does everyone get one the moment they join SHIELD?) he has music playing that you can both sing along and dance in your seats to. Bridget had told you to pick them up last to give them more time so you swing by Dolly’s place first and she looks gorgeous as always in a short, glittery pink dress with matching eyeshadow and lipstick, her blonde hair curled and bouncing.

You give little squeals as you see each other, despite having only seen each other a few hours ago, and she’s definitely still buzzed, too. Sam gives her the same reaction he gave you and, God, you love him.

As you pull up outside Bridget’s building, you can’t stop meeting Dolly’s gaze in the rear-view mirror, your lips twitching. She’s doing a worst job than you at hiding her smile, her hand in front of her mouth, and you’re both trying so hard to stop a laugh.

It escapes when he gets out of the car and closes the door and you’re both turning in your seats to stare at Bridget as they walk out, gorgeous as always in a buttoned up, black blazer with no shirt underneath and matching black shorts, one side of their head freshly shaved. Dolly’s hand darts out and grips your arm as Sam approaches them and kisses their cheek and they’re both smiling but you can’t hear what they’re saying and you hate SUVs, are these things sound-proof, I’ll ask Nat...

As they climb into the car, you and Dolly are staring at Bridget, smiling. They just raise their eyebrows, grinning and say, “Hey, girls.”

“Well, hello.”

“Hi.”

You have to once again stop a laugh as Sam starts to drive, turning the music up, and you were all soon yelling along to the songs.

Now here you are, at a roof-top bar, being escorted to a table that had been reserved for you. Usually, you’d go to your favourite bar opposite work but Sam had gently insisted that you move it to another place he was more familiar with and where he could have better access to an exit and eyes on you. For a place simply titled The Venue, it’s very nice up here; it’s large, fire pits and heaters dotted around so you can’t feel the cold, a stunning view of the city, low, sultry tunes playing, a dance-floor in one corner, everything either purple, red, or gold. There’s even table service, and you recognise a few people dotted around.

“Is that—”

“Oh my God, yes...” Bridget whispers back to Dolly’s question as they stare at a table a little way away.

Your lips twitch as you each take a seat at a wooden table with a candle on it, the chairs red and plush. Your server informs you that a tab has already been set up for you, so you each grab a menu and debate for a good few minutes about what to get, the server standing patiently. Settling on cocktails, the server leaves with a beam, promising to be back in a few minutes.

“God, this place is fancy,” Bridget says, turning in their seat to get another look at everything.

“And we actually have a table!” Dolly sighs delightedly.

“Perks of being Mrs America, huh?” Bridget turns back around to look at you, their eyebrows raising with a smirk.

You snort, your cheeks heating. “Not quite yet.”

Bridget opens their mouth but Dolly gets in first, gasping suddenly. “Did you see the news by the way?”

You pull a slight face. “No, I don’t tend to look at it anymore.”

She beams, her eyes sparkling. “Well, what happened at the dress shop, at the first place, everyone’s talking about it. People are so happy you said something and brought attention to it, there’s so many discussions being had about the wedding dress industry and the fashion industry in general when it comes to plus size clothing.”

The server returns before you can reply, and as she sets your drinks down you feel heat rise on your face again as you bite at your lower lip, pride spreading through you.

Well... Great power, great responsibility... I could get all kinds of stuff to be talked about... Note to self, change world tomorrow.

The three of you take long sips of your chosen drinks, humming in delight at the taste. As you lick your lips and set your glass down, Bridget places their arms on the table and leans forward.

“Now, come on, Y/N...”

Your eyebrows raise. “... What?”

Bridget tilts their head. “What’s he like in bed.”

You give your best scandalised gasp as Dolly laughs and Bridget smirks, continuing, “He’s kinky, isn’t he? It’s always the quiet ones...”

“Bridget Sanderson,” you gasp again, even as you grin, Dolly’s laugh infectious, “A lady never tells.”

“Well, you ain’t no lady so spill.”

You take a long sip of your drink to buy some time.

Could you? Should you?

Well, I’m in this far... And they won’t let it slide...

Licking your lips, you lean forward and lower your voice. “All the details?”

Dolly giggles and claps her hands together as Bridget grins. “All of them, you saucy bitch.”

—

Who knew you were so imaginative. Who knew you could remember every detail of every fantasy you have ever had about your best friend. Who knew you could think up such filthy, delightful things. Who knew you’d start comparing these imaginings with actual things you’ve done in your life, and that Dolly and Bridget have done with their sexual partners.

Who knew all three of you could drink so much.

Sorry to whoever’s paying the tab. The government? Shit, sorry, government, no wait, no I’m not, another round!

As the server, Melanie, you found out is her name while ordering the second drink, brings you your fourth drinks, you’re currently in the middle of laughing so hard it hurts at a story Dolly is telling of a sexual encounter, tears streaming from your eyes.

“... and then...” She dissolves into laughter herself, leaning over. “... and then her cat came in and it just, it just sat on the bedside table and made eye contact with me and...” God, you bloody love her laugh. “... she was doin’ such great things and sayin’ such good dirty talk but all I could do was stare at this cat and I just felt like apologising to it... and then it just started licking itself!”

Bridget is practically curled up in their chair as they laugh and you’re having to wipe at your cheeks, practically crying. Once you’ve all calmed down, you blow out a breath and massage your stomach.

“Oh my God, Doll’, I can’t believe you never told us that story...”

“I’m gonna wanna hear it again every day,” Bridget says, running a hand through their hair as they grin.

Dolly beams, sipping her drink. “I’d forgotten ‘bout it, think I repressed it.”

“So Steve’s into dirty talk, too, huh?” Bridget asks, sipping their own drink.

You nod several times, because part of you had always just thought, with him being such a great commander and leader, that he would be... and you’ve already told them that he is. “Mmhm, he’s made me come by jus’ his words alone.”

“No.”

“Get th’ fuck outta here.”

You nod smugly, your tongue catching your straw and you take a long sip. Not a total lie, you’ve imagined his voice in your ear several times... with a vibrator helping you along. And, hey, you won’t feel guilty about any of this ‘cause this is boosting his image... to your friends.

Dolly’s eye are wide and she and Bridget lean in, wanting more sordid details. You grin, happy to oblige and divulge more of your fantasies.

“So, it was when he was away one time ‘nd he called me ‘nd—”

“Excuse me?”

All three of you pause and turn to look at a woman, close to your age, smiling as she pushes her brown straight hair over her shoulder.

“Hi.”

“H’llo.”

“Hiya.”

“Hey,” she says, holding a phone in her hands as she looks at you. “I’m sorry to bother you, but can my friends and I get a photo with you?”

You blink, and look at her. Did... Yeah, you heard it right. Photo? With you?

You nod quickly, realising you’re just staring and silent. “Oh, yeah, sure, absolutely.”

What the fuck is happening. I hope I don’t sound as drunk as I feel. Or look it, oh my God, are my eyes open properly?

You push yourself up and, oh, fuck, yep, you’re drunk, and step around your chair as the woman beams and beckons her five friends over.

“Thank you so much!”

Bridget offers to take the photo, the woman very grateful, and she and her friends introduce themselves, a little tipsy and giddy with nerves and being with a celebrity, oh my God, I’m a celebrity, this is hilarious...

You stand in the middle, your arms around the girls either side of you, and you smile, making sure your eyes are open properly, as they pose. Bridget takes a few photos before smiling and handing the phone back to the first woman as they break away from you.

“Oh my God, thank you so much!”

“You’re so pretty!”

“We’re so jealous of you!”

You just smile and nod, trying to appear a little more sober.

“Thank you, have a nice night!” you call as they wander off, still giddy with excitement and all wanting to look at the photo.

Sitting back down, blinking, you look at Bridget and Dolly. They’re looking at you, blinking, too. It’s Bridget who finally speaks.

“... So, as you were sayin’ ‘bout gettin’ absolutely railed by America’s Finest?”

The three of you dissolve into giggles again, Dolly throwing her head back as Bridget leans over the table and your hands cover your mouth.

“Hey!”

Oh my God, I really am a celebrity.

Your wide smile lingering, you lower your hands and look up at the woman. You hear a chair scrape back on the stone floor somewhere as you pause. Hang on, you know this woman—

“You worthless bitch!”

Dolly screams as the woman throws some kind of small can at you and you’re suddenly drenched in a thick, liquid, your eyes closing just in time. Someone else screams as you hear Bridget shove their chair back and yell obscenities at the woman, lunging for her, but suddenly other voices are there, and they must be pulling the woman away because her own screams are coming from further and further away.

You’re frozen in your seat, hands half-raised. People are shouting around you but you barely listen. Dazed, your hands continue moving up, as they had been doing to protect yourself, and you wipe the liquid away from your eyes, and slowly open them.

You can feel the cold now, the heaters and fire-pits worthless, the liquid sticking to your skin and clothes. Or maybe you’re just shaking because you’re in shock.

You suddenly realise someone has been talking to you. Your head moving, you meet Sam’s gaze, suddenly feeling his hand on your back. His features are soft and his voice is gentle, but you can see the rage in his eyes.

“I got you, it’s all right. Can you get up? And we’ll get you out of here?”

You nod and lower your gaze, going to reach for your bag.

“It’s all right, I got it,” he says and your eyes move to his other hand, confirming that he does.

Getting to your feet, Sam’s arm goes around your shoulders and your feet are moving. People are still shouting, some trying to take photos, but there are people pushing them away, giving you and Sam space to head towards a door he’s leading you to.

It’s paint, you realise suddenly. Blue paint. You look back down at yourself again, watching it stain your skin and clothes.

“Where’s Bridge’ and Dolly?” you hear yourself ask.

“Another agent’s got ‘em, don’t worry, she’s gonna take ‘em home.”

Sam shoves the door open and you step into a stairwell, two men stood inside it. One of them moves to your left and you see an elevator, which the man opens by typing in a code on a keypad. Sam’s hand is still on your back, gently guiding you into it. The doors shut as the man types in another code, and Sam drops his hand from you and presses a button marked ‘B’. The elevator starts to descend and you stare at the doors.

“We’re gonna get you home, all right?” Sam says quietly, and you just nod, not caring to ask if he means home home, or the penthouse.

You hear him unzip his jacket. Yeah, it is hot in here. Your skin is warm all over and your throat feels tight, and you can’t quite take in a deep enough breath. Then you hear the sound of something ripping. Your gaze darting to Sam, he holds a section of his polo shirt in his hand and offers it to you. You stare at it, your brain putting the pieces together, and then you take it. You wipe at your eyes, mouth and face, and Sam zips his jacket back up and looks at you.

“You okay?” His voice is quiet again and you’re grateful for it because even the sound of his shirt tearing has made your heart beat faster.

“That was the woman from my work, who got in, wasn’t it?” you ask blankly, your volume matching his.

He shifts a little, scratching at his jaw as you hear him release a breath. “Yeah.”

You nod, swallowing hard and you wish the lump in your throat would go away. “Right.” He opens his mouth when you continue, finally meeting his gaze, “Why did you do that, Sam? You’ve blown your cover, surely, or they’ll know I’m being watched.”

He gives a light smile. “People will expect you to be watched, it would’ve been suspicious if no one stepped in.”

“Ah.” You start to wipe at your hands.

Sam tilts his head slightly, his smile softening. “And I wanted to get you out of there.”

You meet his gaze again, but you don’t have the energy to smile, despite the sentiment being touching, and just nod. His eyes linger on you as you look back down at your hands, concern swiftly replacing his smile.

The elevator slows then comes to a halt, the doors sliding open a moment later, and the cold night air washes over you as you both step out into the underground parking garage, yet another one, Sam’s hand returning to your back. The place is silent, and you spot Sam’s SUV amongst a few other cars, both of you heading towards it. He gestures to someone in another car but you don’t care to look, assuming it’s another agent.

He moves a step ahead of you to open the passenger side door and you stop abruptly.

“What?” he says instantly, tensing.

“The paint. It’s gonna ruin the seat.”

He looks at you for a moment, his features relaxing into a smile. “Ah, that’s all right. That can be taken care of.”

You get in after he nods, and he places your bag on your lap. Closing the door, he jogs around to the driver’s side as you buckle your seatbelt then settle your hands over your bag, gripping it along with the piece of his shirt. Your eyes focus and stay on the dashboard as he secures his own seatbelt and puts the car into ‘drive’.

The barrier is more guarded than the other parking garages you’d been in this week but that hasn’t stopped paparazzi and occupants of the building from gathering, assuming that’s how you’d leave the area. You keep your eyes on the dashboard as lights flash and people shout.

Shouting, always shouting.

Sam doesn’t drive as fast as Nat, but he’s goes at some speed when you’re out on the main road. “Steve’s gonna meet us at the apartment,” he says after a couple of minutes, keeping his eyes on the road, “He was out with Barnes.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounds small to your own ears, distant.

Neither of you talk.

You look at your hands, the paint dry and barely having come off from when you’d rubbed at them in the elevator.

You start rubbing at them again, then use your nail, trying to scrape what you can off.

“Shit...” Sam murmurs suddenly.

Glancing up at him, you find him looking in the rear-view mirror every few moments.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s followin’ us.”

Your stomach drops, and exhaustion hits you like a fucking freight train. From his reaction, you guess it’s not a news van.

Sam presses a button on the steering wheel and the sound of dialling fills the interior.

Nat answers on the first ring.

"Where are you?”

“Nat, we’re bein’ followed.”

“Shit. All right, there’s a car on the way. Change your route.”

“Okay.” He takes the next left, and you know your heart should be pounding but you’re just so tired.

“How far away are you?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Sam replies, glancing up at the rear-view mirror. “We’re definitely bein’ followed, Nat.”

“The car will be there in three minutes. Keep taking turns, it’ll follow behind them.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, nearly home,” Sam murmurs.

“Mhm.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Nat asks, her voice a little softer.

“Mhm.”

Sam glances at you as he pulls up at a red light, his lips pressing together. “Not long now.”

“Mhm—”

The sound twists into a gasp as you’re thrown forward slightly, the seatbelt catching you. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you lift your head and look in the wing mirror as Sam spits out a curse.

A car, its bonnet dented, is reversing... then it speeds towards you again.

“Sam—”

“I see it.”

“Sam, what’s going on?” Nat demands to know as Sam pushes his foot down on the accelerator, the SUV lurching forward.

“We just got hit, they’re tryna ram us.”

“Are you both okay?”

Sam’s expertly weaving through the traffic, leaving horns blaring in your wake, but he just keeps going.

“Y/N, you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” It’s an automatic response, but you think you are. Physically, at least. Whiplash will properly rear its head soon, though.

A faint memory comes to you, however, of Sam telling you all the SHIELD cars have been built to absorb the impact of things like this, it having happened a fair few times, leaving the occupants with minimal damage, if none, so maybe not.

“Are they still following?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Think we lost ‘em.” He only slows his speed a little, though.

“You’re right, the agents are following them now, just get back here as quick as you can.”

“All right.”

The call ends and Sam glances at you.

“Y/N, you gotta tell me if you’re not okay, are you hu—”

“I’m fine, Sam, thank you.” You swallow hard, the lump still in your throat.

He falls silent, leaving you be, and you’re grateful for it because you’re so fucking tired.

Several minutes later, he pulls up at the penthouse building and he makes you wait, sliding out of his seat and jogging round to open your door. People stare as he ushers you across the main foyer to the elevator that’ll take you up to your floor but you just look ahead. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t say a word as the elevator ascends and you just look at the doors. When they slide open at the penthouse floor and you step out into the tiny circular foyer, you let Sam get his keycard out, opening the door.

And then the noise washes over you.

People talking, to each other, over each other, on phones, demanding, ordering, snapping. You hear the door close and feel Sam behind you as you slowly walk down the short hallway, then into the living room area.

There are agents everywhere, maybe about twenty, all stood around, talking. Loudly.

They don’t look up at you as they continue on with whatever they’re doing, typing on tablets, staring at tablets, standing over a hologram of what you realise is the floor-plan of the penthouse.

“Y/N.” Your eyes dart up to Nat as she approaches, striding across the carpet. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Tired.”

“Okay.” Her gaze scans you, assessing, and you’re too drained to care that she knows you’re lying. Her hand settles on your arm gently and she holds your gaze, her voice lowering. “We analysed what this is, okay, we got the can of it from the woman, and it’s just paint—”

“Who is she?”

Nat pauses at your abrupt question, and you know she’s weighing up what to tell you. Her hand doesn’t move from your arm as she speaks, “Her name’s Marise Daniels. She’s one of Steve’s stalkers, we’ve been aware of her for a while.”

Stalkers. One of.

“Oh.”

“She...” Sam starts to say, choosing his own words carefully. “... She isn’t meant to be out, especially after what happened at your work.”

“Apparently there was a system error. Someone’s seriously fucked up,” Nat continues, the information new to you both considering Sam’s hissed release of a breath.

“Is that why these people are all here.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard your own voice sound so lifeless.

Nat pauses again, weighing her words again and, God, just tell me. “Someone tried to break in. They got into the elevator and overrode it, got up here but they couldn’t get in. The tampering alerted our systems but by the time we got here they’d gone. We’re checking CCTV footage now and asking people if they saw anything.”

You look at her, her words barely feeling like they reach you. “So why are all these people in here.”

Her hand is gently rubbing your arm now, and it’s faintly starting to ground you. “They’re checking the security systems in place here, making sure they’re secure or reinforced.”

“Okay.”

“They’ll be gone in thirty minutes, I promise.”

“Okay.”

She takes in a breath and smiles lightly. “How about we—”

“Agent Romanoff?”

A muscle in her jaw ticks slightly but she turns to the agent, her eyebrows raising. “Yeah?”

The agent lowers her phone from her ear. “Captain Rogers has helped to apprehend the suspect. He’s on his way over. Agents Moore and Lane are taking the suspect back to HQ.”

“All right, tell them to...”

Nat’s voice drops out of your hearing, and your gaze drifts to the stairs. Sam’s hand settles on your back, rubbing gently, and you remember that he’s there.

“I’m gonna... gonna go upstairs and wash this off,” you mumble to him, and you don’t hear if he replies as you move forward.

People don’t look at you, continuing with their business, talking, talking, talking. You reach the top of the stairs before you know it, opening your bedroom door. You close it behind you, muffling the sounds of the people downstairs.

Removing your shoes, you drop your bag to join them on the floor as you head to the bathroom. You pull your outfit off, letting it drop to the floor, too, you can deal with it later, hopefully the washing machine will get it out.

You turn the shower on and step under the water. Head down, you watch some of the blue paint start to wash off, swirling and whirling in the water and disappearing down the drain. Only a little, though.

You have to use your hands and the body-wash to get it off. Scrubbing at your skin. Scraping at it.

You’re in there for twenty minutes. Scrubbing. Scraping.

When you finally make yourself get out your skin feels raw. There’s still a faint stain in some parts, though. You grab a towel and use it to continue rubbing at your skin, blue now staining the cream softness of it. The rest of your skin is dry by the time you make yourself stop and you pull the robe on.

Then you look at yourself in the mirror.

The lump returns to your throat and tears fill your eyes. You look... drained. And you fucking feel it. You’re exhausted. So exhausted, in every single way. You’ve spent all week fighting so hard to stay up-beat, to stay positive, to make this work, to see the good sides, but the world isn’t allowing that. You’d just wanted to yell at the woman, Marise, that you are doing this to keep him safe, that he is in danger, and you are just doing this to keep your fucking best friend safe.

The fact there’s still some blue paint staining your cheeks and neck is what makes the tears finally spill down your face. Sniffing, you swallow hard and grab a hand towel, wetting it and scrubbing at your skin once more.

It’s not moving.

You inhale a quiet, shuddering breath, almost a sob, as you stare at your reflection, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.

Three gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you say automatically, your voice cracking, and you wipe at your eyes.

You look up as the door opens and see in the reflection... Steve.

He pauses, the door nearly closed behind him. You sniff again as you look at him, his eyes assessing you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” you answer. You shrug then, your features crumbling. “... It’s not coming off.”

The door closes and he’s moving towards you.

“Come here, it’s okay...”

As you turn from the mirror, you’re then enveloped in his embrace, your cheek pressed against his chest as he holds you. A jagged sob escapes you as your arms go around him, holding onto his shirt, gripping it.

“It’s okay...” he murmurs again, and you feel his voice rumbling in his chest, his chin resting on your head.

You’ve tried so hard to stave off tears all week that now that you can, now you don’t care anymore, now that you’re so tired, they’re not stopping. The front of his grey shirt must be damp, now, and your throat hurts and your chest is heaving but you just let the tears come and come, and he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t say anything, just holds you, his hands occasionally stroking your back and arms gently.

It’s not until you start to draw back that he does, guiding you to the sit on the rim of the bath.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks with one hand. “Still a bit drunk, I think.”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little as he crouches down before you and takes the hand towel. “You don’t need to apologise. You can cry as much as you like.”

Your own lips lift for a moment as you sniff, and then you want to cry all over again as he starts to gently dab at the stains on your face and neck. You watch him, your eyes tracing his nose and mouth, the small, concerned lines on his forehead. If he got into a fight with the suspect earlier, there’s no sign of it. His hair doesn’t even look tussled.

Your eyes continue moving and meet his. He lowers his hand and inhales a quiet breath.

“I’m sorry, about all of this, Y/N.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. “Steve, it’s not your fault.”

He looks almost pained at that, shaking his own head. “I could’ve prevented you being in this situation, though, I knew the risks of—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt sharply, surprising you both, but you continue on, “I already know what you’re going to say, and I will take it all, all of this, if it means I get to be your friend. Like we’ve said, we’re a team in this. I really wouldn’t want anyone else as my fake fiancé or as my friend.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to take all this, though, you shouldn’t—”

“No, I shouldn’t. But I will.” Your hand has found his free one, and grips it gently.

He turns his hand over instantly, curling his fingers around your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His smile softens.

“I think the world’s finally gonna see the stubborn pain in the ass I have to deal with.”

You exhale a laugh, and his smile widens at seeing yours.

“Well, it’s only fair others should have to suffer,” you say, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re right there.” He resumes dabbing at your skin as you look at him.

“How was your day?” you ask quietly after a few silent moments, knowing he’ll just ask how you are if it stretches any longer.

“It was okay.” He’s dabbing at your chin now. “Peg says hi, and that she understands what you’re going through.”

God, you just want to cry all over again.

Your chest warms as you smile. “Really? Maybe I should go on your next visit.”

“I think she’d really like that.” His thumb is still brushing over your knuckles, and you wonder if he realises he’s still doing it. “She knows this isn’t real, though, think she figured it out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less. How was Bucky?”

“Fine. He says hello, too.”

“Wow, everyone’s being so kind to me today.”

He arches an eyebrow at you as you laugh, trying to stop himself from doing the same. “I don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not that you’re already joking about this.”

“Humour’s a great coping mechanism, you know that.”

He’s still smiling, but you can see the concern returning, so you quickly continue, taking your hand from his so you can raise a finger, raising your eyebrows, “Well, Doll’ and Bridge’ told me to tell you, by the way, well done, on having me as a fiancée.”

The corners of his mouth lift higher, now reaching his eyes. "Yeah, I know how lucky I am.”

“Oh, and, you proposed to me in our park, by the way.”

He tilts his head as you smile somewhat smugly. “Did I, now?”

“Yeah, under the stars.”

His eyebrows raise as he smiles widely. “Wow, you’re also very lucky, then.”

You wave your hand slightly. “I said a lot of stuff today, I’ll have to fill you in. I made notes.”

He chuckles as he lowers the towel from your face and rises to his feet. “You can show me my homework tomorrow.”

You watch him as he moves to the sink, dropping the towel into it, then raise your hand suddenly. “Oh, there was a dress I actually really liked there, too.”

“The one you sent me a picture of?”

You freeze, staring at him as he turns to you.

“... What?”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he moves back towards you, unlocking it, then taps on a couple of things before turning it towards you.

Ohp.

And there you are.

In the vintage style dress, cascading flutter sleeves stopping just below your elbows, tight on your breasts and with a v-neckline, satin gold, your hand on your waist, beaming at your reflection in the gold mirror at The Pearl.

Ah, now you remember sending it...

“... Yeah, that’s the one.”

“It’s really nice,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he offers you a hand to get to your feet. “You look great in it.”

Your face heats as you take his hand and get up, shrugging a shoulder and smiling. “Oh, well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Your hands drop, yours going to your side, his going into the pocket of his jeans. Looking up at him, you give a light smile, which he returns.

“You okay?” he asks softly, and you nod after a moment.

“Yeah. Just so fucking tired,” you say with a slight laugh. “Think I’m just gonna sleep now.”

He nods, his teeth grazing over his lower lip. “That sounds like a good idea. What a fuckin’ day, huh?”

You snort, your eyebrows raising. “Yeah, for both of us.”

He sighs, as if remembering that, oh, yeah, someone had tried to break in, too. “The agents have all gone, now. The place is even more secure, it’s like a fortress.”

“Well, that’s good.”

You head into the bedroom, and he follows you out, moving to the door. He opens it, turning to you, and you share another smile.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asks again, and you bite at your lower lip.

Stay.

You widen your smile. “Yeah. Just very ready for sleep.”

He nods, taps his fingers against the door and smiles. “All right. Goodnight. I’m just down the hall if you need me.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

Your smile lingers for a moment as the door closes, then fades as you hear him walk away.

—

Halfway down the stairs, Steve pauses, his hand on the railing.

He considers turning around.

Going back up the stairs.

Opening your door.

Taking you in his arms again.

After a minute, he carries on down.

—

In your pyjamas, phone in your hand, you climb into bed, sinking into the soft safeness of it.

You unlock it, finding several messages in the group chat from Dolly and Bridget, asking how you are, saying they’re home safe, that Sam had filled Bridget in and they’d filled Dolly in, that they both hope you’re okay.

You send a message back saying that you are okay, you’re tired, and that you’ll speak to them tomorrow, and you hope they’re okay.

There’s a message from someone else, too.

I’ve just seen what happened on the news, I really hope you’re okay x

I’d have a normal life with Aaron.

Where the fuck did that come from?

But you can’t help thinking it.

He’d slipped into your mind when you’d masturbated that morning. You hadn’t wanted to think about it. You’d just imagined him, out of curiosity at first, as he’d posted a photo on Instagram of him at the gym again, just to imagine what he’d be like, you do it with most people to pass the time... and then he’d stayed in your mind.

It had seemed... more real than when you’d imagine Steve. Probably because Steve is your best friend and you shouldn’t be thinking of him that way and you don’t want to ruin what you have, you really don’t, and Aaron... Aaron is the kind of person you could take a chance on.

You feel tears start to prick at your eyes because this is fucked, this is all so fucked, and you love your best friend and you can only think that in it’s entirety without your brain shutting down when you’re drunk or tipsy because it’s the only time your mind is free and you love him, you love him, you love him, you love him...

But there is no fucking way you will ever risk losing him as a friend.

—

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Tagged: @herb-welch, @jobean12-blog, @gifsbysimplysonia, @multireality, @saltyspiceduh, @sergeantangel, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky, @dispatchvampire, @superapplepie, @rynabarnesrogers-reading, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @imaginedreamwrite, @thesefleshfailures, @mrsbarnes32557038, @tellthemall-i-saidhi, @tacohead13, @opalsandlace, @notsomellowmushroom, @river-soul, @ollypopp, @byssheplease, @kimberliinabox, @ughofcourse, @sebbystanlover-vk, @vale0413, @donutloverxo

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #marvel fanfic #my writing #flamehairedwritings

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ghost-in-the-hella · 4 years

Note

51. “You make me feel alive.” with PriceMarsh.

My apologies for taking so long to finish this! For whatever reason, Kate POV seems to take me extra long to get my head around. Better late than never, I hope!

CW for implied cutting, implied suicidality, referenced canon drugging and sexual assault (the Vortex Club incident), and referenced homophobic and emotionally abusive parenting.

---

“I’m a bad influence on you,” Chloe says, and for a moment she’s so beautiful in the moonlight that Kate doesn’t catch the sadness in her voice.

“What?” Kate says when it registers. “No, you aren’t.”

Chloe stares at her unblinkingly, cigarette raised so that her face is wreathed with smoke, and gives her a look like she’s somehow proving her point simply by existing.

“You aren’t,” Kate repeats more firmly. “What, you think nobody’s ever smoked in front of me before? I do all kinds of community service. Plenty of people have smoked in front of me.”

“Okay, but did they smoke in front of you after sneaking you out of the dorms past curfew, and did they commit petty crimes before they lit up?”

Kate rolls her eyes and shakes her head softly. “I still say you’re not a bad influence on me. I didn’t vandalize anything.”

“Mm. You did let a persona non grata delinquent into the dorms and then sneak out with her so she could tag public property, though.”

“True, but…” Kate kicks her feet gently in the air as she thinks. The metal of Chloe’s truck bed is cold and hard beneath her thighs, but right now it’s more comfortable than her own dorm bed. She hasn’t felt safe sleeping there since she woke up on the floor after the Vortex Club party she can’t remember. The gross comments that keep popping up on her whiteboard don’t exactly make it feel like home, either. “I asked you. I don’t think you’re the bad influence there.”

Chloe mock-gasps. “Kate Beverly Marsh! Are you suggesting that you were a bad influence on me??”

“Maybe,” Kate teases, and this feels better. Chloe’s moods tend to turn on a dime, and Kate’s never quite sure how to handle them. They’ve only been hanging out for a couple of weeks, and although Kate’s learned to recognize Chloe’s sorrow she hasn’t learned how to comfort her. Chloe wears that hard, tough, punk persona so proudly; offering her a hug feels like it would be a transgression. But when Chloe’s joking around, Kate feels much less out of her depth. Most people don’t expect Kate to have a sense of humor - “good little church girl” that she is - but Chloe’s proven herself to be an exception. Chloe’s an exception to a lot of things. “I did ask you to help me break the rules.”

“Because you wouldn’t know how to break them on your own, goody-two-shoes,” Chloe teases with a chuckle.

“I’ll have you know I was a rule-breaker before I met you, thank you very much!”

Chloe flicks the ash from the end of her cigarette onto the damp, sandy asphalt of the beach parking lot. “Really,” she deadpans. “Kate Marsh, rule-breaker.”

“Yes.”

“Sure we’re talking about the same Kate Marsh?” She holds a hand over Kate’s head (mercifully, it’s not the one holding her still-smoldering cigarette). “‘Bout this tall? Literal human marshmallow? Goes to church every Sunday and volunteers at the soup kitchen?”

“Yes!” Kate laughs.

“Okay.” Chloe shifts her position abruptly, reclining with her shoulders propped against the wall of the truck bed and dangling one leg off the edge of the tailgate while the toes of her other dirty boot stop just shy of touching Kate’s thigh. Kate wishes she were as comfortable anywhere as Chloe seems to make herself everywhere. “There’s obviously a story here.” She gestures melodramatically with her cigarette, luminous red embers and pale blue smoke - almost the color of her eyes - against the colorless dark of the night sky. “So spill, Katydid. Illuminate me.”

In her head, Kate scrambles frantically to find something suitably rebellious to tell Chloe. She’s sure she must have done something interesting at some point in her life, but with Chloe’s eyes on her and the way that Chloe’s biting her lip as she waits she’s having a very hard time thinking about anything else. “I… Sometimes I stay up really late. All night, even.”

Chloe looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “That’s it? Kate, that’s… That’s not even breaking any rules! You’re eighteen; you can stay up as late as you want!”

“My parents are really strict about bedtimes,” Kate says a little defensively. “Right up until I moved into the dorms, they would do room checks every night to make sure my sisters and I had our lights out and were sound asleep.” A sneaky little smile tugs at her lips and she drops her voice into a conspiratorial tone. “But there was a creaky floorboard between their room and mine, so I would listen for it and then I’d pretend to be sleeping when they’d check on me. And once they were gone, I’d stay up reading or texting my friends or watching movies.” Kate can hear how boring this sounds, so she hurries to add, “Movies my parents wouldn’t let me watch. I would sneak them. Horror movies, violent stuff. Things like that.” Not only horror movies, Kate doesn’t add because she doesn’t want to tip her hand even though she knows - she knows - that Chloe likes girls, too; she hasn’t forgotten how Chloe used to look at Rachel Amber. But she suspects that Chloe never had to sneak around her mother to watch Imagine Me and You or Saving Face or - God forbid - But I’m a Cheerleader, and she’s not sure that Chloe would understand how incredibly criminal it had felt.

“Pfft! I’ve been doing that shit since I was a kid. With my old friend Max, even, and she was almost as much of a goody-two-shoes as you. Man, after we sneak-watched Jaws she wouldn’t so much as stick a toe in the bay for the rest of the summer. Total chicken.” She grins wickedly. “Nice try, though. And I’ll definitely have to remember about the horror movies. I’ve got some that’ll knock your socks off, guaranteed. So what else you got, Cup-Kate?”

Kate chews on her lower lip for a moment before blurting, “I cursed at my mother.”

Chloe actually laughs at that. “I did that this morning. And again this afternoon. I do that literally every day.”

“I called her a…” She balks. She knows that Chloe curses all the time, but somehow she just can’t make herself repeat the word even though it felt so good to say it and watch her mother’s face turn livid. “A bad name. She grounded me for a week.” Grounded is an understatement. But Chloe doesn’t need to know about Kate getting her mouth washed out with soap at the ripe age of seventeen. She doesn’t need to know that Kate’s mother took away her phone and computer as punishment and proceeded to read her most personal texts and emails before grilling her relentlessly about them until her father came home and put a stop to it. She definitely doesn’t need to know how much Kate cried and begged for forgiveness that week.

Something in Chloe’s face makes Kate feel like she knows it all anyway. “Sounds like she probably deserved whatever you called her.” Chloe nudges Kate’s thigh gently with her boot. “And hey, if you ever want someone to go call her names so vile you’ve never even dreamed of them, much less let them soil your lips, just lemme know. I’ll do it for free.”

Kate can’t hold in a giggle at Chloe’s offer. It shouldn’t be funny, she knows. But it is. She shouldn’t think Chloe’s offer is sweet, but she does.

Chloe smiles and stubs out her cigarette, which is by then burned down to the filter. She hauls herself back up into a sitting position, the toe of her boot still pressed lightly against Kate’s thigh. “Okay, so we’ve got cursing at your mother what I’m assuming is a whopping one time in your life despite the fact that she probably deserves it way more than that, and you staying up to watch horror movies past your bedtime. Not exactly sounding like a hardened criminal, there, Kate. Sounding more like a complete and utter cinnamon bun, if I’m honest.”

“I, um. I drink wine every week?” It’s a weak stab and Kate knows it, but it’s all she’s got left unless she wants to delve into much more personal territory that she’s in no way ready to talk about.

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t count as breaking the rules if it’s literally part of church.” She wags a scolding finger. “That’s cheating.”

Kate seizes the opportunity with both hands, a victorious grin spreading across her face. “Which is breaking the rules! Ha, got you!”

Chloe scoffs. “Uh-huh. Very clever, Marsh. Still not disproving my cinnamon bun theory, though. You’re going to have to try harder to scandalize me.” There’s a lift to Chloe’s eyebrow that feels like a dare. Or maybe it only feels like a dare because Kate really, really wants it to be one.

Both of Chloe’s eyebrows shoot much higher when Kate answers her challenge by leaning in and kissing her.

Kate wants to do this forever. She wants to press harder, dig deeper. But she’s never kissed anybody before and she suspects she’d do it terribly if it were much more than a peck, and if this isn’t something Chloe actually wants then pressing would only make it worse. So she holds her lips against Chloe’s for a couple of incredible, terrifying seconds, and then she pulls away.

Chloe blinks slowly, looking dazed. Kate isn’t sure whether that’s a good sign or a bad one. “Okay, wow, that… Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“...Does that mean I can do it again?”

Chloe lets out a laugh, fragile and amazed. “Holy shit, Kate.”

Kate wants to kiss her again, but Chloe hasn’t answered her question. Her stomach twists suddenly. “Oh my God, I’m such an idiot; I’m so sorry.” She puts her palms on her flushed cheeks. They feel impossibly hot; she can’t even imagine how red they must look. “I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

“It… yeah, that was definitely breaking the rules. I’ll give you credit for that one.” Chloe laughs a little shakily. “Kate Marsh, rule-breaker.”

“I shouldn’t have done it; not like that. Oh, Lord, I’m no better than those… those creeps who--” Kate can feel the warm feeling kissing Chloe gave her slipping into a cold spiral that seizes her chest and pumps ice water through her veins.

“Don’t even.”

“I didn’t even ask, or warn you, or anything; I just--”

“Dude, chill. It’s fine. I liked it.”

“You’re probably still-- I shouldn’t’ve just--” Kate blinks as Chloe’s words sink in. “You liked it?”

Chloe nods. “Yeah, I mean… It took me off-guard, for sure. Asking first would’ve been better, no doubt, but it’s not like I haven’t been wanting you to kiss me for, like… a week, at least.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It was nice.” Chloe rubs the back of her neck, frowning. Her face slips back into that space Kate hasn’t learned how to navigate, the one that shows she’s thinking too hard and feeling too much. “Uncharacteristic, though.”

Kate's heart sinks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means… Hell, I don’t know. It means maybe I really am a bad influence on you. It means maybe my step-dick is right and I’m just a no good delinquent dragging you down with me.”

“Chloe Price, you are not a bad influence on me!” Kate touches her shoulder. Chloe won’t turn and look at her, so Kate touches her chin and turns her head until she has to meet her eyes. The look in Chloe’s eyes makes Kate’s heart hurt. “You’re the best possible influence on me.”

Chloe laughs again, but it’s a broken sound. Kate never wants to hear her laugh like that again. “Not fucking possible,” Chloe tells her. “You’re, like… the best person I’ve ever met. And I’m…” She waves a hand to gesture at the whole of herself.

“You’re a good person,” Kate insists. “You’ve lived through bad things, and they’ve hurt you. But you’re a good person.”

“I’m a high school dropout with no job and no prospects. I smoke, I drink, I do drugs, I swear, I spit on sidewalks, I--”

“You don’t judge me. Why should I judge you?”

“I’ve sold drugs,” Chloe plows on, “I’ve hurt people, I’ve started fights just because I was angry and I wanted to hurt someone…”

“I’m not saying that you’re perfect. I don’t expect you to be perfect. But you are a good person. And you’re a good…” Kate takes a steadying breath. “You’re a good friend. You don’t treat me like I’m some fragile little flower that’s been sheltered from the world, or like someone who needs to be sheltered from it. All my life, people have tried to control me.” Kate clasps her hands in her lap, fingers wrestling with each other anxiously. “My family, my neighbors, my church, my friends… They all expect me to act a certain way, to talk and think and feel and believe exactly the same way that they do, and they don’t care what I want. They don’t care what I think or feel or believe. But when I’m with you…” Kate feels something wet slip down her cheek and wipes at it absently. “Chloe, when I’m with you, I can be who I want to be. I can be me. I can break the rules I want to break and follow the rules I want to follow and you don’t judge me either way. You make me feel alive. You make me want to be alive.”

Kate’s fully crying now, so it takes her a minute to realize that Chloe’s crying, too.

“Shit,” Chloe says, and she’s half-laughing as she cries. “Shit, shit.” She mops at her face. “You, I… Fuck, I can’t even… Shit, Kate! You’re… you’re fucking perfect. Jesus.”

Kate wants to correct her: Chloe is the one who’s perfect. She’s a perfect mess with her tangled blue hair and the dark circles beneath her eyes, her chipped nail polish and chapped lips and bony elbows and scarred forearms. Her stained clothes, her dirty boots, her bra strap slipping down her shoulder, the stink of cigarettes hanging around her in a constant fug. Her mascara running with her tears, the way she’s smiling through them and looking at Kate like she’s some kind of miracle. She’s perfect, and Kate wants to kiss her again. She wants to press the knowledge of how perfect Chloe is into her flesh with her lips so that she believes it.

But they’re both still crying, and the moment just doesn’t feel right. So instead Kate asks a question she’s been wanting to ask since they met: “May I give you a hug?”

Chloe nods rapidly, and her smile brightens. “You’d fucking better.” She opens her arms, and she welcomes Kate home.

#prompt fic #prompt fill #this prompt was not so prompt #fanfic #my writing #ghost writes #prompt ghost #life is strange #pricemarsh #chloe price #kate marsh

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saharamae21 · 4 years

Text

Vapor (Part 8)

Hey guys, thank you for all the support in the past 24 hours. I love and appreciate all of you. Here is an extra long part of Vapor. Loved all the feedback on the last chapter. You guys make my heart burst with happiness.

WARNING: THIS FANFIC MIGHT CONTAIN CONTENT THAT CAN BE TRIGGERING TO SOME

Get Added To The Tag List!

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I was in the house. It wasn’t a spot I remembered though. I must’ve only been here for a moment. I looked around and saw the shovel. I saw the gun. I saw the rope. He was so prepared. I turned around and saw the trophies on a shelf. There were toys, hair pins, locks of hair. I turned one more time and the kids stood in front of me.

“Find me,” they chanted, getting louder with every chant. Behind the chanting was a monologue. A voice I would never forget for the rest of my life. One that told me how every one of these kids died.

“I don’t want them to suffer. I love children. I love them and this world is too evil for them. They are innocent. They are precious. Their parents failed them one by one, including you, Adelaide. I’m here to save you. They’re catching on though. It will be quick. I need you to not be afraid. Close your eyes Adelaide. Close them,” he said. I felt the gun at my temple. I heard it click. “The ones before you were killed in their sleep, peacefully. I held their pillows to their heads and then they became angels. You will join them soon. You too will be an angel.”

Then there was a gunshot.

My eyes shot open and my arms reached out for JJ. He wasn’t there though. I felt tears stream down my face as I sat up. The room was pitch black and I was shaking in fear. I hugged my knees to my chest. Why was I the one who lived? Why was I the one who had to live with this? I know I should be thrilled to be alive, but 12 or more children had to die in order for me to get away. All of those kids had a future and yet here I was living in the past. I forced myself out of bed and looked in the mirror. The stress of the past few days were starting to show. My eyes looked sunken in and bloodshot. Even though I looked like hell, I couldn’t sleep anymore. I went back to my bed and just laid there.

I watched as the sun filtered into the room little by little. I sighed as I got up and made myself presentable. I had a long day ahead of me and nothing would make it easier. I walked to the station, taking small strides. Everything I was doing was my idea, but that didn’t make it any easier. I walked in and greeted the front desk lady. I walked to Det. Chamberlain’s desk and sat down. I pulled out the files that I had taken overnight and began to study them.

Julie Morris was seven when she was abducted. She was the youngest of two children and her parents were Emily and Jeff Morris. She was playing in her yard when her mom went inside to start dinner. 5 minutes went by and Julie was nowhere to be found when she came back out. She was taken from her front yard.

When her body was found, I had the detectives reach out to the families in order to talk with them. I wanted to help them in any possible way. The Morris’ weren’t the only ones who agreed to meet with me though. Four other families were willing to talk to me. I looked up from my file and saw that Chamberlain had walked up to me.

“Did you sleep at all, kiddo?” he asked and I nodded. I didn’t want him to worry about me. “Well the parents won’t be here until noon and were all a little busy here. Do you have somewhere you can kill some time while you wait?”

“I’ll go walk around,” I said. “I haven’t been to White Chapel in a while.”

I got up and walked outside. The sun beat down on me as I walked. It was incredibly warm today, even for the summer. I had killed maybe an hour when I walked into some familiar faces.

“Addie!” I heard and then felt arms around me. Sarah had run full force into me. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh,” I said, trying to sound more enthusiastic as I kept talking. “Personal reason. Why are you here?”

“We’re shopping for Midsummers! Oh my God, come with us!” she said dragging me over to Topper. I kept my head down. I didn’t want to see him. “We need all the help we can get!”

I didn’t have a chance to protest. Next thing I knew I was being dragged with them to the nearest store. I guess this was one way of killing time. I went with them and tried to avoid Topper at all costs. Ever since that night, I didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Shit, okay A. I trust you,” Sarah said. Ouch, that one hurts a bit after what happened. “I need you to stay with Top while I go help Rafe. Just make sure he doesn’t get anything stupid.”

“I’ll go,” I said, slightly panicked. “I mean you guys are basically coming out at this party and I don’t want to mess it up. I’ll go help Rafe.”

“You hate my brother,” Sarah said. She wasn’t wrong. Rafe just rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn’t stay here with Topper though.

“Consider it a favor,” I said. “Plus I have something at 12 and I don’t want to be late and babysitting Topper would take forever.” She laughed and didn’t question it anymore. I smiled, feeling the slightest bit relieved. Then, off I went. I knew that this was about to be the biggest pain in the ass, but it was the better of the two options. Rafe was only a few stores down getting his suit tailored. When I walked in, the smirk on his face grew.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “How are you Adelaide?”

“Ew,” I said, looking at his light blue suit. He laughed and told me it was awful. He smirked as the tailor asked me to hold something in place for him. I walked closer, but didn’t want to touch Rafe.

“I don’t bite,” he said. “Unless you’re into that.”

I rolled my eyes and gagged a bit, dramatically. I placed my hand on his chest and held the fabric into place. Moments later he was done. I removed my hand, but he caught my wrist. He told me he thought Sarah was coming. He told me he was pleasantly surprised. He was giving me huge Chuck Bass vibes and I was no Blair Waldorf.

“So why are you here?” he asked, but gave me no time to answer. “Can’t relax around Topper?”

“Huh?” I asked. There was no way Topper would tell Sarah’s brother that he kissed me.

“You know, because you kissed him?” My eyes shot open. I instantly protested, saying that I did not kiss him. I didn’t want to acknowledge the kiss at all. After going back and forth for a little bit I finally slipped up.

“I didn’t kiss him! He kissed me!” I shouted. He covered my mouth with his hand. We had already attracted too much attention.

“But who is Sarah going to believe? You or Topper and I?” he asked. I shoved him off of me and told him I had places to be. I told her to tell her if he really wanted to. He loved having this much power over me. He knew that with a few words I wouldn’t be a Kook anymore. I would go back to being nothing. “It’s your lucky day. I won’t tell her in exchange for a date to Midsummers.”

“I am not going to Midsummers with you and that suit,” I said. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his chest.

“What? Already have a date?” I rolled my eyes at him. “Is it Maybank? Don’t act like we don’t see you slumming it with them.”

“JJ and I are barely even friends. I would way rather take him than you though! I’m not going to Midsummers with you just because Topper kissed me,” I said, shoving him back.

“He what?” a voice behind me asked. I turned to see Topper and Sarah who had entered the room. “You what?”

She stared at him and waited for his explanation. I knew this was over for me. I know my life of fitting in was done. She looked at him and then back at me. I watched as she left the store, Topper following her. I stood there, knowing how he would twist it. I squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath.

“You can take the Pogue out of The Cut, but you can't take The Cut out of the Pogue,” Rafe whispered in my ear as he went to go change. I was left there, trying my hardest to keep it together. With the stress of my dreams and the bodies, I didn’t know how much more I could handle. I just knew I needed to go back to the station for now.

I made it back to the station in time to meet with the families. I sat in the interrogation room and talked to them one after another. I listened to them tell me their kids would be about my age. I reassured them that they didn’t suffer. They asked me what it was like to be abducted. I didn’t want to lie to them, but I wanted them to think that their child was tortured. I didn’t want them to think they spent their last moments crying for them like I had.

After the fourth family left, I sat in the cold room by myself. I felt someone come in and sit across from me, but I didn’t look. I knew it was the detective. He told me that he was worried for me. He told me that I should go home. He told me that I should get some rest and be with family. He told me that they would call me back if they needed me for anything. I just nodded. I needed to go home.

JJ’s POV

I spent the past two days trying to figure out why she couldn’t be by my side. Maybe I said something wrong. Maybe I messed up somewhere along the way. Maybe it actually was because I left her two years ago. Whatever it was, I couldn’t take my mind off of her. I stopped by her house periodically, waiting for her car to come home, but it never did. I tried to ignore all of the thoughts in my head, but how could I relax when I didn’t know where she was? How could I relax when I finally realized that I was in love with this girl?

The Pogues tried to keep me busy. They tried to keep me from thinking about her. Even with all the excitement of stealing a drone and almost getting torn apart by a dog, she was on my mind. All day, every day for the rest of my life, she would be on my mind.

I cursed silently as I made my way over to Pope’s. It was the second day of not seeing her and in order to take my mind off of her, Pope asked me to help with deliveries. I kicked the pebbles at my feet as Heyward handed me bags of groceries.

“I need these to go to The Bread Box,” he said. I took them quickly and made a mental note to take them there. I needed to ask Addie’s mom if she knew how Addie was. We loaded the rest of the boat and I grabbed the bags again immediately.

“JJ, the point of this was to forget about A for now,” he said. I wasn’t letting him take this away from me though. I needed to know she was fine and Pope knew that. He sighed and stopped the boat at the right entrance. I got out and told him I would meet up with him at the next stop. He nodded and let me go.

A bell rang as I entered the shop. It was cute. The walls were pastel and the shelves were lined with baked goods. Everything smelled so delicious. I looked at them and wondered which one was Addie’s favorite. My eyes caught a cupcake and I smiled knowingly. Salted Caramel.

“JJ?” a family voice asked. I stood up straight and smiled at Mrs. Enger. She came around and hugged me like she always used to. “Wow, look at you all grown.”

“Hey mo-Mrs. Enger,” I stuttered out. I was so used to calling her mom. She was the closest thing I had to a real mom since mine left, but now that felt inappropriate to call her that. She smiled at me and told me that I could still call her mom. She took the grocery bags from me and offered me a cupcake. She was exactly the way I remembered her. Adelaide was lucky to have her.

“Actually,” I said. “How is Addie? We haven’t seen her in days.”

She told me that Addie had told me not to tell anyone. She told me that Addie was struggling. She told me that Addie needed us. I asked where she was and she told me that she would probably be on a ferry home tonight and that I could stop by at any point tonight. I thanked her and she tipped me a fairly large amount of money before leaving. I walked to the next stop and felt my heart ache. I loved her family so much. I loved her so much.

The rest of the day went swimmingly until Pope was driving us back. I was bragging about how much money I had made, but he was unsettlingly quiet. I walked over and saw the blood. I saw the wounds and I felt the rage inside of me build. I knew this was a bad idea. I knew how mad Addie would be at me for even thinking up this idea. I knew that this would be a bad idea, but once I had said it, I couldn’t take it back.

That afternoon, we sunk Topper Thornton’s boat.

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warmdolans · 4 years

Text

Fire Escape - Grayson Dolan

Summary: Firefighter Dolan’s first rescue turns into something that blushes to be more.

Tags: Fluff

Word count: 2.8K

A/n: Hey!! this is something i quickly(?) made after obsessing over the series 911 hehe let me know if u like it or if youve got some constructive criticism because i’d definitely love to improve my writing :) It would be lovely if you dropped by some asks or something but im not expecting much because im new to this whole writing scene,, enjoy!

Each puff of air she takes in burns the back of her throat like a strong shot of alcohol, it constricts her chest with needles and blocks out the feeling of heat radiating from the fire that licks at her skin feverishly. She barely manages to drag her limp body on one foot through the red filter of the room that stings her eyes and blurs it with tears. She hears the faint rumbles on the other side of the door and tries to scream out another help but fails miserably with a hand to her throat in hopes of stopping the dryness, it felt like the inside of her throat had been scraped against concrete. The door knob twists and the wooden door shakes, she’s got hope. She reaches her hand out but her vision blurs. The thin door slams open right as she feels her knees give out.

“I’ve got you!” the man yells as he grips her forearms, his grip softening when she hisses and he sees the uncontrollable hot tears running down her cheeks. She rests her head on his warm black uniform once the surroundings start to blur and the intoxicating smell of chemicals take over her senses, feeling as if the back of her brain was being compressed as it pulses. “Stay with me-“ he waits for her name.

“Y/n,” she barely manages a whisper.

“Stay with me Y/n!” he shouts over the crips sound of the dancing flames.

“C-can’t,” she mumbles.

“Yes you can, you’re strong! You can, come on Y/n!” he encourages as he carries her body through the burning building. The lasts of his words fuse with the white noise of the walkie talkie on his chest that she stares at. Everything blurs. The dark ring around her vision closes in and she feels herself losing a grip on reality with every second that passes by. “NO! Y/N!” was the last thing she hears and the grumble in his chest becomes the last thing she feels before it all turns dark.

She feels her body laid flat on the synthetic material, Y/n only manages to squint her brows together when the sting against the backside of her skin rushes through her in an instant. She silently thanks god when she manages to lift her heavy eye lids. A tall burly man stands with a burning building behind him in her view, his helmet and jacket long gone, a concerned look on his strong features as he joins the paramedics leading her to the ambulance. Dolan his badge reads.

He leans in closer when he sees her visibly struggle to part her dry lips. “I’m going to be fine, right?” she rasps. He nods vigorously with wide glistening eyes that makes her wonder if he himself even trusts his own answer, but a part of her feels reassured. Y/n keeps her eyes on him when he’s stopped in his tracks with a hand to his shoulder by another firefighter. His head turns to the man talking to him but his eyes stay trained on hers. By every second he’s getting further and further away from her and she starts to worry over who would be there for her if not the man who had just saved her. She tries to lift her head to get a better view once he shrinks smaller in her field of vision but the women pushing her stretcher to her right assures her things will be fine and ushers her to lie flat back down, she does. She’s drifting off again, lungs still stinging, she promises to herself she won’t forget his name, Dolan.

It was bright even with Y/n’s eyes closed, the sound of machines beeping and murmurs somewhere distant forces her curious side to peel her eyes open. She looks around the room as much as the nose tube limiting her head movement could allow. The nurse walking past stops in her tracks with a surprised look to her face, she pulls the curtains back before rushing to Y/n. Asking for her name and age and all the things that make her head spin. She feels as if her mind is wobbling in her skull when she passively answers their questions, letting them do whatever they want with her.

It feels as if she’s stared at the rings the curtains hang on for almost five hours before a face she actually recognises shows up.

“Y/n!” her mother whispers a shout with tears in her eyes as she makes way to Y/n. She hasn’t seen them in a while and it feels odd, she’s even more surprised to see half of her always busy father standing on the other side of the curtain listening to what the doctors and nurses were explaining to him. Her mother is touching her all over her bandages and it stings but she’s too drowsy to tell her. “Your dad and I are so worried about you,” she cried and Y/n felt pity over her mother. The girl laying in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around some of her limbs and a tube coming out her nose felt pity seeing her mother finally cry over her. “We’ll go back to Florida, okay baby? We’ll take care of you-“

Y/n’s mind thinks of Florida. How warm and humid it always is, much like California but she won’t have her freedom there. “I’m staying here,” she states. Bracing herself for the argument she knows is coming.

“Y/n? Look at yourself, honey. You’re bedridden and you’ll need someone to be there for your medication-“

“I have a job and students to teach here, mom,” Y/n fights back a losing battle.

“You won’t even be able to drive to their places, not with that leg.”

“I’ll be fine!-“

“You said that when you left your dad and I and now look who barely managed out a burned building!” Her mother huffs out the quick words. She sees the patient and his family from the bed diagonal to hers stare at her mom like her father and nurses are and she’s embarrassed so she looks away to her right. The uncomfortable feeling vaporises off her skin when her cheeks tinted at the side table, forgetting all the eyes on her.

“Then, just give me a week here before we go,” she bargains after reading the note that stuck out the bouquet of light blue and lilac flowers.

“Fine,” her mother agrees. For a second Y/n forgets she’s in a bed with a needle in her wrist and plastic through her nose, that her parents are acting like everything is fine after cutting ties with her for two months, she forgets she’s got burns on her body and she won’t be able to carry her own weight when she reads the note written in chicken scratch, Get well soon :) - Dolan, Station 127

A day before she leaves Los Angeles, Y/n and her mother sit uncomfortably in her car. Her mother’s eyes are trained on the road and in her mind she’s checking off the list of things she’s packed from her apartment to calm her nerves. The label ‘Fire Department’ falls into view and the words underneath get easier to read as they move closer, Station 127, it reads.

When she moves out the car, Y/n makes sure not to put pressure on her right foot that’s wrapped in bandages her mother has neatly done for her. She rejects her mother’s offer to help her out and struggles to pull the crutches out the back seat. Y/n chuckles at the reflection of herself in the passenger seat’s tinted window. Finding it ridiculous how she wears a long black floral dress with her hair and makeup all done but she limps around with only one converse on and arms occupied with thin, long crutches. But the view of herself in the window fades when her mother leans towards her with a thumbs up and a big encouraging smile, much like how she used to look at Y/n during her swimming lessons.

She sighs and turns away, trying hard not to roll her eyes. Y/n prepares herself for the embarrassment of asking around for a Dolan, that is if anyone even comes to assist her. She nods the stuffed doll in her hands, imagining it cheering her on before she chuckles at how stupid she’s acting. Y/n slowly hobbles on the crutches, making her way to the open station that has light passing through it in every which way, giving full view of her state for all curious firefighters to see. She sees a man by the front bumper of the firetruck wiping it shiny and she thinks he looks approachable with his blue eyes and styled brown hair, shimmying his body to the song playing in his head.

“Excuse me,” she repeats after he doesn’t hear the first time through his humming.

“Yeah?” he turns to look at her and tosses the cloth down by the bucket. Y/n feels so out of place with all the buff men and women she sees walking around the top floor when she’s standing there in a dress looking for the man who saved her.

“Is there... Dolan- here?” she asks so hesitantly, already thinking of what to say if he wasn’t here.

“Y/n?” someone says from her side, she whips her head and there he stands. In his uniform that hugs his arms and chest so nicely with his brunette locks pushed back and a bit of facial hair grown. He can’t be that much older than her right? He shuts his jaw and shakes his head at how inconsiderate he was being when she tries to move forward with difficulty, he takes big strides so as to near her.

“Hi,” he grins, finally in front of the pretty lady with long wavy black hair he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Hey,” she replies with a tight-lipped smile.

It gets a bit awkward when he doesn’t say anything and instead looks her up and down, noting the bandage that ran up her right foot to parts under her dress he couldn’t see and the one wrapped on her left shoulder that peeks out the collar of her dress. Although she feels bold about it, she gnaws on her bottom lip when his eyes follow the doll that she lifts in between them.

“For saving me,” she reasons with a faint smile and pink cheeks. He’s beaming with bright eyes, excitedly reaching for the Squirtle doll.

“I- I’m glad you’re okay,” he guides her to the benches by the locker room, a hand on her lower back that feels too good for her to flinch away from even if it feels like her skin is bitten on. They settle down after he moves her crutches beside him for her. He speaks up again, “H-how are you?”

“Good. Just a couple second degree burns and an irritated pair of lungs. Nothing too bad that some medicine can’t help, thankfully,” she says it so nonchalantly and it amazes him.

“That’s.. that’s really good to know,” he smiles at himself as he takes in how she looks staring at her foot. While she’s busy with following the path the bandages take, he looks for more things to say, “I’m sorry about your apartment.”

She jumps a bit in her seat with her brows raised at the assumption, “Oh- it’s not mine! I was just watching over for a friend..” she explains. The way she’s looking at him with a wide smile and rosy cheeks is making his palms sweaty.

“Good... to hear?” he says with a confused face, wondering if it were appropriate to say her friend’s loss was something he was glad about, but she laughs and he thinks he’s safe. How awkward and jittery he was being slightly calmed Y/n down, knowing this is just as nerve-wracking for her as it was for him. She wonders if laughing was appropriate and her thoughts scold herself.

“You always send flowers to the people you save, Dolan?” she asks. A teasing look on her face that has him shifting in his seat because he thought she looked adorably mesmerising.

“No! You-you’re my first actually,” he replied before fixing his own sentence, “the first person I saved.” He tells her while playing with the soft doll that was just as big as his large hand, trying to suppress his shyness. It surprised her. He was such a hefty guy she would have thought he had years of experience. It’s giving her butterflies that this big and tough guy sitting on a bench beside her was so nervous, tripping over his own words and toying with a small Squirtle doll she gave him.

“I’m honoured,” she chuckles. “Thanks for being my hero,” she cringes at herself but it seems to have made his smile stretch wider and eyebrows raise higher, so even if she had a chance to she would’t take it back.

“Yeah?” he asks just so he gets to hear her say it again.

She opens her mouth to speak and ask more about him but the alarms in the station go off and people rush into the locker room. Grayson’s eyes widen, he holds her forearms and gently pulls her to stand before passing the crutches to her. She��s turned red when he remembers to pick up the Squirtle. “Hang on,” he says to her. She watches him cluelessly, watches him open his locker and shift his arms into the jacket he saved her in. His surname sewed in bright yellow on the back of it.

“Dolan,” she whispers just to feel the way her tongue curls saying it.

She laughs at watching him balance the doll in his locker before closing it’s door shut. He’s geared up and jogging to her as the rest of the firemen pack into the firetruck. “Y/n,” he rushes his words. “Will you go on a date with me?” Maybe he was rushing things, but he’s waited a two weeks to see her again since he saved her. And their sweet awkward moment was ruined by the alarm so he’s not taking risks in missing his chance with her if he’ll ever even get another one, he’s justified to himself that asking her out right now as the scene around them rushes is the right thing to do. Yes he wears his heart on his sleeves and it’s gotten him in places he hopes not to experience again, but he’s sure everything is falling into place when it starts to feel like it’s just the two of them smiling at each other with crimson coloured cheeks even as people rush around them.

“Of course,” she beams and he feels giddy under the heavy uniform.

“Let’s go, Grayson!” The blue-eyed guy she approached before calls for him. Grayson. That’s his name. She’s said yes to a date before even knowing his name. God she’s gone crazy.

“Save some lives, Grayson,” she smiled. He stops his jog to the truck midway, turning to look at her standing and looking so small and fragile. He takes in the way his name sounds when she says it. He likes it.

Grayson looks to her a final time from inside the truck with a promise of, “I will, Y/n,” and a wink before he speeds into the firetruck and the door slides shut.

Y/n rests her weight on her good foot as she watches the truck race off with a cheesy smile on her face. She twitches in her stand when she realises that she’s going on a date with a handsome fireman she hasn’t even spent an hour talking to. How could she possibly find something to wear when her apartment’s all packed up and she’s leaving Los Angeles tomorrow? Is there even time left for a date? The thoughts bum her and she winces after accidentally balancing weight on both feet. She hopes no one saw. In the firetruck, Grayson smacks his hands to his face when the giddiness of planning a date fades and he realises they don’t have each other’s numbers, but she could just visit the next time... right? He hopes so.

Grayson wonders if something like fate were true, would it bring them both together again?

Her car honks and Y/n mumbles a curse from how embarrassing her mother is. She gives a final smile to the firefighters left upstairs who peer down at her from the balcony and give a wave back. She doesn’t hear it when she wobbles back to her mother in the car, but the firefighters upstairs giggle and mumble over how the lady Grayson’s been talking about has finally showed up and cured the pout and sadness off of the big guy, maybe he’ll be less aggressive with the punching bag now.

After tossing the crutches in the back and facing forward with a heavy sigh. She tells her mother to back out and drive home. Her mother sits shaky in her seat and exclaims joyfully, “I took some photos of you two!”

“Oh whatever, mom,” Y/n exhales with warm cheeks, fighting a smile that her mother stares at while she glances at the fire department through the side mirrors of her car. Thoughts full of Firefighter Grayson Dolan from station 127.

#grayson dolan imagine #dolan twins imagine #the dolan twins #dolantwins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins fanfic #gbd

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mateasha · 3 years

Text

rendevous 18.6y

summary: chikage shows up at the front door of MANKAI after disappearing from the face of the Earth for 3 years. itaru is not happy. fandom: a3 pairing: chikage x itaru word count: 5516 tags: original characters for the sake of plot, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, flashbacks, mentions of death, bad attempts at action, bad attempts at comedy

chapter 1: realizations He should be happy for him. Chikage is okay. Chikage is alive, and didn’t… just go somewhere and do god knows what, (which, well, he already did, didn’t he.) but at least it isn’t anything bad, he’s safe and sound and maybe the troupe members will be overjoyed to hear how he’s been doing...

Out of respect, no one has ever taken their spots in their respective troupes.

He observes him even harder from the lounge area in the office, a good break, he thinks, as he grinds some gacha game with his husbando, a little tired from staring at the stupidly “gendered” pink UI with the characters flying across the screen.

He’s happy. He looks healthy— maybe skin even glowing brighter than ever.

And it’s good for him. It’s amazing to see how happy Chikage looked, “laughing” with his friends, almost heartwarming to see Chikage doing just fine. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s talented, strong, mentally adept, better than h—

He stops that train of thought immediately.

He was happy. So then Itaru should be happy. Even if he was that stupid, unromantic senpai that always was offstandish with just a bit unromantic caring for others when he felt like it.

At least, should be.

He watches as his coworkers walk around him, slinging their arms around each other in camaraderie, as one of them asks him out for drinks after picking up lunch. His smile is almost as wide as he remembers when he figured out Hisoka was alive. And innocent.

He watches Chikage and he doesn’t look back, walking into the elevator without him, because he works on this floor. It’s fine.

But it’s just so fucking funny, when all he wants is just another word, just a reason why he left without even asking Spring Troupe, or literally anyone else for help. He would even trade his life for Hisoka’s, even though he knows that wouldn’t make anyone happy. Well, maybe Chikage. He could go off into some sunset with him and run away from whatever responsibilities he wanted to not deal with. Like Itaru. Izumi. The others.

He wants to scream out so bad, just for him to come back, but he can’t, like that stupid horror novel that made him feel like shit and all existential for no reason. He feels like he can talk to him about everything, in a sense. Which would make sense, of course, if they were still close. Roommates. But he could only do that in a world where Hisoka is still alive.

—

Chikage knows he’s here.

Why?

Intuition.

Not really. He looks at him, but chooses not to “look”.

But when he sees his face, almost heartbroken, which is almost questionable. He wants to ignore him so bad. Just move on. Easier said than done, when every week you see him share out information with the company execs. A Chikage-senpai, no more.

He wants to move on so bad.

But everytime he goes to bed, he can’t stop thinking. He crosses another day off the calendar, it’s been three years, almost three and a half years.

He tears down his calendar. Who the fuck uses those anyways?

He tries to move on.

But of course, when you have something good, and it gets taken away, you want it back, right? You throw a tantrum like a little child at first, like a baby crying for their pacifier their mom took away from them. Then, you silence yourself, deny you ever wanted it in the first place. But you can’t stop wanting more, wanting it back. You yearn for it so hard that it hurts, almost twists your heart into a fucking pretzel, your stomach bubbling like the filter of the damn fish tank in your too-large-for-one-person office— thanks Boss, not complaining— but you can’t have it. You ignore it.

He knows he wouldn’t be able to deal with it again. It was all his fucking fault. He slams his hand on the desk again, before opening up his work computer.

His vision is hazy, like the only thing he can see is his hands, just a foot in front of him, trying to find his ground, but all that runs through his mind is, “it’s your fucking fault you idiot stupid you shouldve worked harder to protect everyone, cant even do that” it turns out harder than expected.

But it’s not his first time at the rodeo, of course. He picks up the stack of paperwork, straightening it all into a neat little tower of paper, before typing away with a nasty scowl on his face.

He can’t accept this.

—

It’s his anniversary.

Chikage is on “vacation”. If your definition of “vacation” is sitting in a fancy car in suburban Tokyo, near Veludo Way. He already regrets his decision. Closure, my ass, he thinks to himself as he drives his car.

He’d already picked up tickets to their show in a month. Itaru is the lead this time. He searched it up, but it seemed not to have anything that Spring Troupe would do. Minagi always changes it up.

Maybe visiting his grave today wasn’t the best idea, Chikage asks himself with a slight melancholy in his inside head voice which he wants to shut up— so he tells it to shut up with its own voice (which of course, would never work, because he’s telling himself to

shut up).

Chikage doesn’t know what to say. Do people speak out loud to their graves? No disrespect to them, but not for him.

In their head? He tries it, kneeling down a bit to the headstone, setting down a bag of marshmallows.

Hisoka. I don’t believe in God or reincarnation, or whatever religion. But I want to give the universe, no matter how little it cares, the benefit of the doubt. I hope you’re in nirvana, heaven, or reincarnated into some “cute” baby in whatever country, eating marshmallows. I never understood that. It’s not like I needed to. I guess. But wherever you are, I hope you’re up there. With August.

He shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water, except instead of water, it’s a somber liquid covering him, coating him in some syrupy hotness that feels like the embodiment of orange with speckles of blue.

He gets up and turns around to head back to his car.

“...Utsuki. It’s been quite a while.” He pulls up the cuffs of his outfit.

He’s not surprised to see him here. Arisugawa. He looks the same, the same haircut, the same outfit, same everything. He’s happy to see he’s been doing well.

“...I’m not surprised to see you here. You were his roommate, after all.”

“Yes, yes, indeed I was. Was is the word I want to put emphasis on.” It’s like he reminded himself of what happened. “Why? Why come back here after all this time?”

“I was just… reminded.” He straightens his back, as if it wasn’t straight in the first place, almost scoliosis levels of effort into “straightening” posture, as if to become more defensive.

“Are you going to interrogate me, at least? Inquire about the troupe? How well has it been faring?”

“... I don’t think I need to.” He’s reminded of the last time he went to watch a play. Around Christmas time— where he could take enough time off.

Minagi always does well. Sakuma is always just so passionate you can feel it through the character. Usui is always perfect, staring back at the Director in approval. Chigasaki… is…

He interrupts his own thoughts just to respond to Arisugawa, who’s been waiting for another word for 3 seconds at least. “I saw the play around Christmas. Well done. Very much so.”

“We are all aware Minagi-san always does an amazing job. Why, he is at the same level as me. But of course, I must come here and mourn every once in a while.” He walks past Chikage to look at Hisoka’s grave. “These marshmallows were his favorite brand, Chikage.”

“I know.”

A moment of silence ensues as Homare places a bouquet of anemone on the grave.

“Come back.”

“What?” Chikage is almost startled as he looks down at Homare, squatting at the grave.

“Come back.”

“You know I can’t.”

“You can, and you have always been able.”

“I can’t. Arisu. What am I meant to say to everyone? ‘Oh, I left for 3 years, haha big surprise now I’m back!’ They’re them. I’m me. They don’t need me.” Chikage laughs nervously. Nervously? He calms his nerves— at least tries to, conflicted on what to do, because it’s been a while since he’s been like this.

“It’s what Hisoka would have wanted. We all need breaks.” The mention of Hisoka alarms Chikage, and makes his voice venom tipped.

“Don’t even try to bring up that fucking sleepyhead.”

“My, your language. This place is sacred.” He doesn’t even seem phased by his biting tone or his venomous words, just continuing to talk to him as normal— at least normal to him. “But you must admit… he would want you to keep acting. He was very, practically fully aware that you enjoyed what you did immensely.”

“I don’t care. It was good to talk to you again. See you around.” He storms off before Homare calls out for him again.

“Just… take this.” He hands him a card, Chikage acquiescing halfheartedly, already thinking about throwing away that flimsy card. “Call the number if you ever yearn for us too much.”

Chikage doesn’t say anything back— at least doesn’t feel the need to.

—

“Itaru?” The rest of the Spring Troupe knocks at his door, mostly Sakuya’s voice piercing through the little symphony of voices piping up just in an effort to wake up Itaru. (If he’s asleep of course— sleeping now to save energy for ranking all night.) “We have pizza?” Masumi looks at the noticeable lack of pizza in their hands, which, knowing Itaru, would make him close that damn door again.

Tsuzuru knocks on the door again, Izumi coming by, looking at them with a puzzled look on her face. “...Can I ask what you guys are doing or is it private?”

“Itaru hasn’t come out of his room in like… a week.” Tsuzuru takes out his phone to check the phone date to see if he’s actually not come out of his room for a week. “Yeah. A week.”

“And why is that surprising? He’s probably ranking.” Izumi almost has a visible question mark hovering over her head, that would be drawn over her if they were in an anime. “Although he should be working on his role… he is the lead after all.”

“Yeah, but I know that he has no thanking to do for this week!” Citron looks almost frustrated, going to the door to bang on it before Sakuya holds him back, calming him down. “I wanna play with him…”

“Ranking.” Tsuzuru mumbles through the word, correcting him.

“Ranking!”

Izumi parts them into two to make her way to the door, knocking harder. “Chigasaki! Get out of the room before I break in!” No response. “...Itaru?” Izumi grabs a keychain from her pocket, with the master key. “I’m coming in.” She unlocks the door quickly, opening the door, being blasted with a rank scent— the scent of body odor (which isn’t surprising now that he’s alone) but when it’s festered and accumulated for a month. Which is terrible considering he’s only been in there for a week.

“...Yes?” Itaru sits up in his loft bed. “...Oh.” He gets down from the loft bed, his hair almost matted to his face, with oil stains and chip crumbs all over his t-shirt. “...Hi.”

“Itaru.”

“Director…?”

“Take a bath. Come back here. We are going to talk, because you haven’t let it get this bad in a while.”

“...Whatever you say.”

When Itaru takes a shower, he doesn’t feel refreshed— rather just a clean feeling taking him with the same unidentifiable emotion. Probably a mixture of disappointment, discontentment, and self-loathing; which isn’t a particularly new mixture but it’s almost defeating this time, for no damn reason. Well, he does know the reason, but he refuses to acknowledge the idea, even entertaining it. Calling in sick to work because he just didn’t feel like going isn’t going to last forever, especially when He is practically his boss. He doesn’t want to get fired of course. He did just lose another job, so getting fired now isn’t the best idea.

Itaru picks up his phone on his way out of the bath, and turns on his phone to check his waifus this time, at first checking out his Best Girl. Humans are complicated, he says to himself, as he taps though some loading messages and downloading messages. He thinks back to work before getting interrupted by Izumi, who’s staring at him from inside his dorm, picking up trash and stuffing them into her makeshift trash bag, which is really just a plastic bag from the convenience store. “Itaru, come in. It’s your dorm after all.” He walks in unwillingly, hit by the smell he produced himself. He even wonders how he can take it.

Izumi wants to talk, he knows that much, as he feels the type of anxiety coming on when he gets the message, “we need to talk”. He hasn’t gotten it that often, but he does definitely freeze up. He definitely isn’t that stupid to not get a hint. Maybe. Izumi starts speaking after a moment of silence.

“So… Can we talk about this? You’ve never let it get this bad… even you have standards.” She glares at the side of the room that’s basically caked in chip bags, surrounded by an anime summoning circle made of chip crumbs.

“Do I have to?”

“Listen… this can’t go on forever. Just… talk about it. My lips are sealed!” She “zips” her mouth shut and throws away the invisible key from her hands. Itaru knows she isn’t going to leave without an answer— which is just the type of person she is— determined for no good reason. He can’t understand why Izumi is still here, even “helping” him clean. Helping in quotation marks because Itaru’s splayed out on his couch, head hanging off an armrest.

He holds out his phone to tweet something on his streamer Twitter, like “sorry for not streaming i was sick” which is convincing, until he realizes Banri follows him. Fucking NEO. Whatever. He sends it anyway.

“Can you keep it down? I don’t know what emotion you’re gonna feel when I tell you whatever has gotten me so… down. But I know you’re gonna scream about it, which I don’t want to hear.” Itaru scrolls through his personal, looking at fanart of his main games staring at a couple to just appreciate the artistry. Talent.

“I told you. Lips are sealed!”

He adds a snarky tone to his voice. “Someone with their lips zipped together wouldn’t be able to talk.” Itaru smirks.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“LOL. Do you seriously, most definitely, want to hear me out?”

“Yes. Obviously? I’m cleaning your room just to buy myself time so you don’t kick me out.”

“Good strat. Whatever.” He goes to the training section, sacrificing some of his cards in the name of evolving his best girl. “I got laid off, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And I got a new job, remember?”

“Mmmhm.”

“So I got hired as an assistant to this high up exec, which is like… hell yeah. Level up from that old company.”

“Didn’t you just get hired? I don’t think being absent for a week is a good look for your Refreshing Handsome Man persona. Trademark.”

Itaru laughs.“I— Well… Yeah? But I just didn’t want to go because of a certain person.”

“Do we have to beat someone up?”

“No. But guess who it was.”

“... Was it someone from highschool?”

“It was Chikage-san.”

“...Chika—“ Izumi puts her own hand over her mouth to shut herself up because of the up and coming scream that is about to pierce the skies.

“You heard me right.”

“...Yeah, I definitely did.” Izumi almost has a solemn tone, a tacit agreement of how they should be feeling about this.

“I just… I don't think I’m ready to see him. Mentally preparing for what shitshow might go on. Seeing him drained all my LP in a split second. And this week is me recharging, and a little more. Like I need it to overflow this time, like when I claim daily login quests for them.”

“Makes sense. Well… nothing you can do about it, right?” Izumi sounds a bit defeated, tying up the trash she’s picked up in the convenience store plastic bag, taking out another one and cleaning up again. “Just… deal with it till you can find a new job. Or… you could bring him back here. I want to— need to talk to him.”

“Mmm. I don’t want to do it.” Itaru sounds even more defeated, like he was born with that stupid Archeops abiltity. 50% HP lost already, and he’s not ready to lose that other half. “But if it comes to that… Sure. I’ll try. Not very hard of course.”

“Yeah, yeah, Itaru. You keep doing that.” She picks up some more trash before Tsumugi looks through the door.

“Director-san?”

“Tsumugi?”

“Someone is at the door.”

“I’ll get it.” Tsumugi leaves quickly to his dorm. “Itaru. Finish cleaning. Get the broom and sweep that damn pile of chips. We can’t deal with another infestation. Sakyo is gonna get so mad at you and me, and we don’t want another wifi outage caused by him. Also… please remember the play. I know that we aren’t super close to opening night, but this one has to be one of our more intricate ones, okay? Study your role well.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been doing that in here too.” Itaru follows Izumi out of the room, heading to the lounge to grab the dustpan and broom lying in the corner of the kitchen. Itaru takes it, wondering how much money it would cost for Itaru to get a damn maid around here.

But he wouldn’t want anyone to see his room, of course, as he gets almost scared of someone walking in, and seeing his shelf of games, and his cute and sexy gamer setup. Not the right choice of words, but it’s cute and sexy to him. (He also doesn’t want anyone to wash his body pillow of his waifu, or see it, matter of fact. Plus, he’s worked to make it so comfortable he can sleep instantly with it.)

Itaru heads back to his dorm, the door still open, sweeping up the chips, and spraying some damn Febreeze in there. Hawaiian breeze, or some other tropical scent will do. He hears frantic footsteps from the lounge, Izumi holding onto the doorframe.

“Itaru!” She stands up straight. “Chikage… is here. At the dorms with us.”

“What?”

Chikage pops up behind her, with a small suitcase in hand. Less of popping up, but more of fully revealing himself behind her.

“Please don’t tell me he’s moving back in.”

—

Chikage is less than aware of the reasons he’s here, before regrouping himself and making some stupid mental list in his mind. Thanks, self-help/business book that his boss gave him. He leads up the events in his mind.

Chikage gets a call from the landlord of his apartment building.

The landlord tells him that the rooms are flooded because some guy on the upper floor took such a big shit that it flooded the entire apartment complex. How does one even do that?

He is distressed. He goes to book a hotel.

All the hotel rooms are booked again.

Chikage, understandably, gets angry. He drives back to pick up some non-wet stuff. He can sleep in a car for a night.

He starts it up, and it doesn’t start. His car is broken.

He kicks the tire in frustration, and the side metal plate just falls off. He sighs in the ultimate defeat.

He now has nowhere else to stay— hotels are all booked and reserved for the waves of plays about to be released. His hideout is not an option— he doesn’t have much of a bed in there, or actual facilities he needs. No wifi.

Chikage is reminded of the conversation he and Arisugawa had back at… there.

He comes back with a damn Uber.

He sits down at the couch, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in more than frustration at what situation he’s gotten himself into, already regretting his decision.

Izumi runs back, opening the lounge door. “...Chikage-san!” She goes to the kitchen. “It’s… a pleasure to see you back here. It’s pretty late. Almost everyone has gone to sleep. Tea?”

“Sure. Lavender, thank you.” Chikage is fidgeting, which is super out of whatever character he plays, almost struggling to not have a tone when he says his next words. “I’d… hope no one else is awake.” He thinks back to Itaru, but forces the thought of him out. “How has it been?”

“Not the same without you and… yeah.” Izumi looks down at her own cup, the teabag soaking. “Why are you here anyways? You just… disappeared.”

Chikage swallows his pride for just a little bit longer. “My apartment is flooded. My stuff is fine but I can’t stay there for now. Every hotel is booked here. My car is broken because I’ve been forsaken. I can’t stay anywhere else. I need to stay here.”

“...Well… you’re always welcome here anyways. You’ll always be a part of us, even when you don’t think you are.” Izumi takes a sip of her now finished tea. “Well… I know this might be uncomfy but for now, our only open room is 103.” He gets flashbacks to the number, when he got assigned it the first time he came here. “I don’t want to put you in 205. Homare has been doing a lot of stuff in there ever since.” Izumi pauses. “...And I know how you might feel about it.”

“I see. Well… I’ll take what I can get, no?” He sighs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” He takes a long sip of his lavender tea. Nothing has really changed, he observes, as he looks around slowly taking everything back in. The smell is even familiar, which might just be the smell of lavender tea, but he doesn’t really think so. But an air about it doesn’t have as much life as it used to— which he might attribute to the fact that it’s now 12:30 am, but he knows deep in his subconscious the real reason.

Izumi smiles wide. “Great. I’ll lead you there. Itaru is cleaning right now.”

—

Yes, it is awkward, Itaru confirms to himself— something he doesn’t even need to do when Chikage is literally just typing away at his computer, as Itaru fiddles with his phone up in the air, playing some new KniRoun thing. Great. Lancelot is idly whacking at some large dragon on his phone screen, while Chikage’s loud typing begins to fill up more and more of his headspace until Itaru finally gets over the air that’s as thick as butter. “Can you type… quieter? Please?”

Fuck. That is not how he meant to say it. “...sure.” Itaru is surprised, doing a little “Oh.” to himself. He expected more resistance, especially with his tone.

Chikage can almost feel Itaru’s eyes burn into the back of his skull, which would almost be fitting for him and those damn carnelian eyes. “If you want me to leave, I can leave. I understand you have to do that ranking thing, or whatever.”

“Don’t act like you care, Utsuki.” Itaru just keeps fumbling with his tone, always going a little too biting. Which he should probably stop, when he’s basically talking to his boss. Technically. Not really his boss, because he’s been appointed to Chikage. They’re supposed to be working together. But it’s not like Chikage has power in a setting that is now his. He’s in Itaru’s domain. “You never cared about my ranking in the first place.”

“Can we fucking not today? Be happy I’m even dealing with you.”

Itaru shuts up immediately. He isn’t going to do this today. Or ever. He turns on his side to try to ignore whatever that cabbage head is doing on his laptop. But he doesn’t. He looks at the laptop, already looking for hotels to stay at, and sending out emails, with some decryptor on the side. Itaru isn’t one for confrontation. He knows he’s less than welcome with Chikage’s presence— which he can’t understand.

But Itaru is already tired— be it from the event that just happened, or the fact that it’s 1 am. Which is baby hours for him. He goes to do some final things, use his stamina, the sorts, and lets his body drift away.

—

Itaru wakes up midday, as usual for a weekend, and for some reason, Chikage is still there, typing away. He climbs down from his loft bed, stretching a bit and going to turn his computer on.

It seems like a normal weekend to Itaru, except for the fact that he’s here now. For whatever reason.

“Have you been awake this entire time?”

“...What’s it matter to you?” Chikage doesn’t even look back or stutter in his typing.

“Nothing, I was just wondering. Jeez.” Itaru doesn’t even want to try to fight back with the man who could snap his neck in 0.5 seconds. He walks out into the atrium, heading to the kitchen to grab some food from Omi, who had probably covered some leftovers from breakfast in plastic wrap, and probably already getting lunch ready.

“Itaru. Good morning to you!” Omi speaks to Itaru from the counter, giving him a smile.

“Thanks.” He grabs the leftover breakfast for a nice brunch. Izumi comes through the door with some bags of groceries for the next week.

“Itaru! Let’s talk later, okay? Practice is soon. We don’t want you to be absent this time. As the lead, you have the most importance for the play, and we need you to—“

“I know. I’ve been studying this role, okay? I just can’t seem to wrap my head around it.”

“And that’s why we should talk.” Izumi looks serious again, the look she gave him last night when cleaning his dumpster room. “It’s nothing serious. Just sit down here.”

“I have things to attend to, Director.” Itaru looks smug, and walks towards the door, plate in hand.

“I swear it’ll be quick!”

“Can’t we just do it in my room? Omi is here, and if it’s so serious, we should talk about it in a private place.”

“You’re gonna be distracted if we do it in your room. Just follow me to mine.”

“Ugh…” He walks over to Izumi, and follows her to her room, pulling out a chair for Itaru and she sits on her bed. “So…?”

“So… guess what…” Izumi’s voice is light, like she’s trying to break something to him slowly but surely.

“Don’t tell me. Is he going to be staying for a while?”

“...Damn.”

“You have to be kidding me, Izumi. Like I can’t believe you would do this to me. Rooming me with my boss.” He puts his back over the chair he’s sitting in, like a standard damsel in distress, woe is him. “Woe is me! All I know is pain and suffering.”

“You might be an actor but that was not an opening night performance.” Izumi laughs. “It might be for a while so bear with me. It’ll be until at least closing night.”

“... At least closing night?” Itaru is confused. “Why does he even need to stay in here?”

“Well… His apartment is flooded. Some guy took a fat shit in the toilet on the upper floors and now his apartment is flooded with toilet water. Hotels are booked for a while, Godza n’ all the other performances. People do book hotel rooms months in advance here.”

“Well, that’s tough. Why not put him with Homa—“ He stops and realizes what he’s going to say. “Oh.”

“Right.”

“Well, can’t he drive? Like… to a place with hotels?”

“Well, his car is broken. Listen, even if he did get it fixed, it’s the least we can do for him. He tried his best, Itaru. Everyone… grieves differently and it’s not in our place to judge him, no? Even if it was self-destructive…”

“Yeah, by hurting us? That’s his grief? Why’d you even let him stay? He doesn’t act, he wouldn’t do shit around here. Do you think he’ll come back? After three and a half years, no goodbye, just a complete disappearance? I don’t see how you can forgive some old cabbage head like that. He’s not even part of MANK—“

“Itaru, can you shut the fuck up? Like, actually.” Itaru immediately shuts up in almost prey-like fear. ”You of all people should know what it felt like when he left, and after everything that went down.” Izumi is absolutely fuming, like steam is coming out of her ears, getting up and turning away and looking at the bookshelf. “Do you know what it feels like? I worked so hard for this— to build this up from when it was failing to a place where we can stay and lean on each other and you… you of all people should know what the hell that feels like.”

“Izumi, I—“ He gets up, reaching out for a bit.

“I’m not finished.” Izumi is tearing up and getting more red by the second, like she’s going to burst. “How do you think I feel about all this? Chikage is back. It’s overwhelming, Itaru. It reminded me of Hisoka, and what would MANKAI be if he was still here but he isn’t. He’s not back. He won’t ever, and when we find an old member like Chikage, I will always accept him back in, even if he’s not committed to the acting gig. It’s almost like we’re completing ourselves again.”

“I understand that, but—“ Itaru can barely get a word in.

“He’s staying there. I don’t want any backtalk from you, Itaru. Have a good evening.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just go.” She sits back down, her back turned to Itaru as he walks out.

Itaru feels bad. I mean, who wouldn’t, but he didn’t expect Izumi to take it that hard. Itaru has every right to say that he doesn’t want him in his room, feeling no remorse for making Izumi almost cry from pure anger, walking slowly back to the room. Omi stares at him as he goes through the kitchen.

“...Food?”

“Nah. Not hungry, I want some chips.”

“Don’t overindulge. It’s almost dinner anyways.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks Omi.”

He walks out of the kitchen and back to his room, still thinking about Izumi. Izumi is angry. Izumi is more than angry at him and it was because of him— which has never happened before and he is distraught.

He walks back into the room and no one is there. Bless. Today his room feels a bit more lonely, even though there’s more stuff in it, looking to his left to see the duffel bag of clothes with his desk underneath the loft bed already set up with tons of electronics. What is he even doing? He takes a look at Chikage’s stuff before he comes back.

Another laptop? A walkie-talkie… and the thing that catches his eye the most is a picture of MANKAI, and behind that, a picture of Hisoka and Chikage. Itaru remembers taking this photo, looking closer at it. Okay, now he really feels bad, he thinks as he looks at the photo more and more.

If he missed us that much then why didn’t he come back?

The door opens and he shuffles as fast as he can to the couch, posing in one of the most awkward positions.

“...H-hey, Utsuki-senpai.”

“Hm.”

He quickly walks past, suspiciously looking at Itaru as if he was a cat that pushed something off a desk while their owner was gone. Itaru quickly skitters to his desk, starting up his computer. The room feels a bit more lively with both of them in it, even if they’re both just trying to ignore each other, something within the room metamorphosing, like something is changing. He shakes the thought out of his head quickly before he slumps into his chair to get into the Gamer Position (trademarked by Itaru himself) and getting his software up.

Itaru needs to stream today. Not really— he didn’t announce anything, but he has to feed his fans some sort of content. He gets ready to film something, anything. He picks a random game and starts filming a bit, Chikage in the room completely tuning Itaru out and vice versa.

Chikage slowly drifts off to sleep for once, but this time, it’s a deep sleep. chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6

#a3 #a3!#a3! chikage #a3! itaru #a3! chikaita #ckit #chikage utsuki #itaru chigasaki #a3 fanfiction #a3! fanfic

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