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sammydreamer · 8 months ago

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Hey, everyone! Today, I’m gonna do something quite different in this post. You may have gathered this from my pinned post, but I am heavily interested in personality tests and typing, most notably with MBTI and Enneagrams! But the reason why I have been invested in this is that I initially wanted to type each of the main characters in KINAC, most notably my one and only romantic F/O, Petal! It took many attempts, changes and difficulties, but I have indeed typed her with something that I won’t likely change.

In this post, I will tell y’all all about what I typed my F/O Petal as and WHY I typed her this way. I will be going over some characteristics of each of the types, including some very specific yet neat stuff, and how they relate to her! I might even do more personality analyses like this in the future, if y’all want! I won’t waste any more time here, so let’s get started under the cut!

(SPECIAL NOTE: I am making this blog post assuming that everyone who will read it has prerequisite knowledge of MBTI and Enneagrams, including cognitive functions and the function stack for the former; and wings, instinctual variants, and tritypes for the latter. I will brush over some of the listed topics as I go along, but I highly recommend familiarizing yourself with each of these topics if you haven’t already!)

(ALSO...I don’t really consider myself an expert in this subject per se, and there are times when I rush through things and might make quite a few mistakes. Feel free to correct me on anything or even give your own insight into what her type could be, if we have different opinions!)

Personality Typing Deep Dive - Petal

I think first and foremost, this prerequisite is required: what is Petal’s personality like? I will give a brief rundown.

Petal is considered to be motherly; she is protective of those she cares about and loves looking after them, especially Kitty. Petal is also very kind, caring, and enthusiastic to a fault...so much so that the other cats have gotten annoyed at her sometimes. Despite her kind and gentle nature, she knows when enough is enough, and is willing to put her foot down if it means justice.

Petal’s motherly nature makes her quite intelligent for a cat. But at the end of the day, she is still a cat. She doesn’t fully grasp human culture and behavior (often calling humans weird or unintelligent), and because of her cat instincts, she has done some pretty derpy things at times. And yet, despite not fully understanding sometimes, she does her absolute best to be as kind and respectful as possible.

MBTI brief recap

The first of two personality typing systems we will use to type Petal is the Meyers–Briggs Type Indicator, or MBTI for short. MBTI, as y’all know, is perhaps the most famous personality typing system besides Zodiac signs. 4 letters with 2 possibilities for each of those letters each yields 16 different types one can be. Under the hood, 8 cognitive functions are each stacked in various positions in one’s mind, with varying degrees of consciousness. A function can be the driver for your decision-making at best (your conscious stack) or a demonic force of evil at worst (your shadow stack).

I personally wouldn’t say that MBTI determines your personality and personality traits as much as it determines your behavior and how you cognitively make decisions, due to these functions. Two people can be of the same type yet have entirely different personalities. As such, it’s more like a “blueprint” rather than a complete definition of one’s personality. Nonetheless, it’s an interesting way to see how different people behave in any given situation, whether they know it or not!

But enough waffling on...now that we know what Petal is like and what MBTI exactly is, we can move forward with her MBTI type!

After much deliberation, I have concluded that Petal’s MBTI type is ESFJ!

What does it mean to be an ESFJ? ESFJs are often called “consuls” or “caregivers.” They generally have strong practical skills and a sense of duty, and they are very loyal and can easily connect and flourish with others. They generally ensure that others are cared for, and they provide a warm and safe presence for them. However, they can also be too needy or selfless, and are sensitive to criticism. They can also be very averse to conflict and can have trouble with giving criticism, too.

Sounds like Petal, right? But generalizations and stereotypes aren’t good enough for explaining why she’s an ESFJ. In order to fully gather that, we must look at what’s under the hood: her cognitive functions.

Dominant Fe

Your dominant function can be thought of as the driving force behind your cognitive processes. It’s the one you use most often in everyday situations, and it’s your most trusted one when it comes to making major decisions. As an INFP, my dominant function is Introverted Feeling, or Fi. My Fi is about my inner moral compass; what I personally feel is right. As a Fi-dom, I want to go through life by staying true to who I am without having to conform to societal standards.

Petal, on the other hand, has Extroverted Feeling as her dominant function, or Fe. If Fi is about what’s inside, then Fe is all about the group. Fe-doms often have a strong desire to help people and make sure that everyone is involved. They love talking about their feelings with others, and they want to live in harmony with everyone. If there’s any motto for what things they do, it’s: “It’s what the people want!”

Sounds a lot like Petal, especially with her penchant for helping others! Petal definitely puts the desires and intentions of those around her before her own. In fact, she gets so caught up in the group that she often gets dragged along into any silly shenanigans they get into. For example, in one episode some of the cats performed a play about seeking buried treasure, and the cats including Petal, thinking it was fact instead of fiction, searched all around the mansion for it! I definitely imagine her thinking to herself, “Everyone else is doing it, so I should, too!” When they did find treasure and King Tubby took it all for himself and the other cats got mad, she did as well! There were many other instances of her playing along with the group, including investing in the stock market and playing tag.

But despite this, she knows when to take charge, and there are times in the show when she does. She isn’t always a leader-type, but when she is, she is very effective in telling others what needs to be done and how. (Although, this may be more of a Te thing now that I think about it.)

I want to touch upon this quote a bit:

“Hello there, I’m Petal. Most would refer to me as the motherly type, which is fine; I like looking after everyone.”

It’s the introduction she gave herself when she filmed a video. It’s a common stereotype with Fe users (especially Fe-doms) that they struggle with their identity. So, they turn to others to determine who they are. To put it in a quote, “I’ll be whoever you want me to be.” It’s very subtle, yet it says a lot.

But there is a certain episode in which I feel is where her Fe truly shines: “Petal Pushers”, the 43rd episode of the 1st season. At the beginning of the episode, Petal is shown to be very encouraging of the others, much to their annoyance. In one particular part, she was showing a flower to Kitty and Timmy Tom when Cheeta busted in and announced that he could touch his nose with his tongue, which he tries and fails at that moment. Now, he interrupted her, but did she get mad? Nope! Instead, she congratulated him for his “ability,” and encouraged him to try again! Miley was there and she got annoyed at her for not making him apologize. To which Petal responded:

“Oh, he doesn’t need to say sorry! I’m only sorry I was doing something while he was obviously trying to do something very important!”

Later, Petal overhears some of the cats talking to each other about how annoyed they were with her, and that she was “too nice all the time.” Petal, initially distraught, decides that if “they don’t want nice Petal, they won’t get nice Petal.” So, she dons a leather jacket and spiked collar, and becomes mean. She throws food around, insults others, insists on watching hardcore shows, eats unhealthy food, and stomps around. Despite doing all this, she finds that it’s incredibly hard for her to be mean. She gets tired of keeping up the act, and finally drops it when the other cats apologize to her for taking her kindness for granted.

If you know your dominant function, you also know your inferior, opposing and demon functions. Could her demon Te have taken over in this case, then? I unfortunately don’t know enough about the demon function to accurately say anything about that. But some of her final words sum up her Fe well: “I just love you all so much!”

Auxiliary Si

Your auxiliary function is also an important part of your cognitive processes. If the dominant function is the driver, then the auxiliary is the guide, helping it out in making major decisions. My auxiliary function is Extroverted Intuition, or Ne. Ne is mostly about finding every possibility one can in the world. However, I mainly use it to enhance my Fi by coming up with ways I can express my values and identity.

Since she is an ESFJ, Petal’s auxiliary function is Introverted Sensing, or Si. Si is mainly about one’s past experiences, and how one can use them to deduce what could happen or what they could experience, so that they can be prepared for any situation. However, Petal doesn’t use this on its own; instead, she uses Si to advance the interests of the group and to assist others if they need help.

Petal is one of the first ones to offer any advice on what to do if a problem in her group arises. For example, when the cats experienced a blackout, they were stuck on what to do until the power came back on. She immediately said, “Oh, we can roast marshmallows!” and handed Cheeta marshmallows and sticks to use to “put them on the fire.” (He misinterpreted this and actually threw them into the fireplace.) In another instance, Timmy Tom couldn’t stop yodeling, which the others thought was a case of hiccups. She immediately exclaimed, “Oh, I have a remedy for hiccups!” and pulled out a lemon, which she made him bite down on. In summary, Petal helps others by using her own tried and true methods that she has learned over her life.

Unfortunately, there isn’t much else to say about her Si. As a result, I would like to go down a step in the stack to another function that can better explain exactly why Petal is an ESFJ.

Tertiary Ne

I personally believe that when it comes to typing characters, the tertiary function provides better insight than the auxiliary into what type they exactly are. The tertiary function aids you just like your top two functions, but it is often labeled as the “child” function. This is due to the fact that it is most often used in a “childish” or “immature” way, and isn’t entirely reliable in making major decisions. My tertiary function is Si, and I use it very differently than Petal does. I mainly use it to relax, by finding comfort in routine and familiarity. For example, I often become nostalgic when I rewatch old movies or listen to music I’ve loved over the years or even browse through old photos, as it reminds me of much simpler times. (This may not be the best example, but...yeah.)

Like me, Petal also uses Ne. However, I am much more mature about it than she is. Ne is about possibilities; as such, sometimes Petal is absolutely enthralled in the exciting and unknown...so much so that it can become a problem. If she sees a new thing that she likes or can be useful for her, she becomes obsessed.

One example of her tertiary Ne showing is in “Junior Rangers”, the 6th episode of the 2nd season. In it, a junior ranger troop leader explains to Petal the premise of being a junior ranger, including showing off some badges. She becomes instantly hooked on them, spending all night sewing together tons and tons of them...even though she initially planned for Kitty to become a ranger so that she can be taught how to behave like a human. She would end up giving them away basically for free, and it ultimately distracted her from the fact that cats cannot be junior rangers. Ouch...

Miley: “Are you sure this is the right thing for Kitty, or are you just in it for the badges?” Petal: “For the badg–I mean, Kitty. Er, all for Kitty.”

But there is one dark side to the tertiary function that can really make itself known during difficult times, that truly cements how one can behave when it’s not used wisely: the dominant-tertiary loop. What happens during a loop is that your auxiliary function is completely ignored, and as a result you “loop” between using your dominant and tertiary functions with devastating consequences. As an INFP, I’ve definitely found myself in a Fi-Si loop before. The experience is different for all INFPs, but in mine, I become so paralyzed by my past mistakes that I retreat from everything and am deathly afraid of trying new things.

But as for Petal and her loop, let’s look at “You Can’t Handle the Juice!”, the 40th episode of the 2nd season. In the episode, Petal signs a contract and is the not-so proud owner of a bunch of boxes of orange juice. She is told by both the neighbor and a person in a video that she has to sell the juice, but it’s not so much selling as it is helping. Seeing as how she’s an ESFJ, she was enticed by that. She was also told to never take no for an answer. Hoo boy...

In my eyes, what happens next is a great example of a Fe-Ne loop. Again, the experience is different for each ESFJ, but here is how Petal experienced hers. Every time that a cat had a problem, Petal and her juice were to the rescue, or so she thought. Out of milk for your cereal? Use OJ instead! Stained your fur? OJ will clean it up! It doesn’t matter what kind of problem it is, she sees every single opportunity to just help everyone out using the juice. She’s not thinking rationally, but only how she can help. This juice can solve ANY problem, just you wait and see! The worst part is, she ain’t even realizing that she’s making everything worse! AND SHE’S GOING INSANE IN THE PROCESS! It’s what the people want, dammit!

Anyway...again, if you want to type a character, just think: what does their loop look like?

Critical Se

The last function I want to go over before I move on is part of the shadow stack. These are the functions that aren’t exactly a part of us. As a result, we tend to have no control over them, and they could help or seriously harm us.

One of these functions is called the critical function. If the auxiliary function is the guide or “nurturing parent,” then this one is the “critical parent.” In short, we tend to criticize and berate others when they use this function, or we criticize ourselves when we don’t. My critical function is Introverted Intuition, or Ni. If Ne is about what could be possible, then Ni is about what will be possible; Ni can be described as making one long-term plan and sticking to it, with no other options. Because this is my critical function, I tend to silently berate other people who limit my options. As a real-life example, my stepdad was talking to me the other day about my career in statistics. He said that I can be interested in applying my skills to various things, I need to apply it to one and only one thing in order to advance my career. Him saying this just made me angry. Why should I limit myself to only one topic? There’s got to be another way! I cannot live like this!

In contrast, Petal’s critical function is Extroverted Sensing, or Se. Se is often described as “living in the moment.” However, there’s more to it than that. In particular, one big aspect of Se is that it’s the experience you give to other people. Being aware of how your words and actions might affect others AND being able to use that awareness effectively is a possible indicator that you have strong Se. (As someone with trickster Se, I can’t relate, lol.)

If Se is in the critical position, what does it mean for Petal? In summary, she is often critical of people who leave a bad impression on her. If she is around to witness another person being rude, there is no doubt that she will criticize them for it. She has a strong sense of justice, and takes notice of any bad behavior or intentions in order to correct them. Not only this, but it may be that she criticizes herself when she leaves a bad impression on others, in the form of over-apologizing and having an “Oh, shit!” look when she makes a mistake.

“Pardon my French, Pierre!”

She also tends to be critical of habits that seem strange to her. Besides King Tubby, she seems to be the one cat that is the most critical of human culture and behavior. She even goes as far as to say that humans are weird and unintelligent. (As for how she fell in love with me, I’m unsure tbh.)

But overall, she is one of those rare ESFJs that know how to use their critical Se to their advantage. With it and her sense of justice, she knows how to give proper discipline to others and hold them accountable for their actions. This is just one of the core aspects of her motherly nature, and that is just one aspect that makes Petal who she is.

Enneagram brief recap

The other personality typing system we will use to type Petal is the Enneagram. If MBTI is how people behave the way they do, then the Enneagram is the why. There are 9 Enneagrams that each correlate to your core motivations, desires, and fears. Again, I wouldn’t say it determines your personality; it more so determines the reasons for you behaving the way you do. Just like with MBTI, two people can be of the same Enneagram type yet have entirely different personalities.

Despite how basic it may seem compared to MBTI at first glance, there are several complicated sub-topics when it comes to exactly specifying your Enneagram. There is the idea that you act like another type depending on if you’re in growth (integration) or in stress (disintegration). There is a wing, which is when you inherit traits of an adjacent Enneagram. There is also something called instincts, which reflect how you further behave, which can all be stacked into an instinctual stack. There’s even the idea that one person has 3 Enneagram types at the same time in something called a tritype! As stated in the beginning of this post, I am assuming you have prerequisite knowledge of all of these topics. You don’t have to be an expert, you just have to be familiar enough with them so that you’ll know what I’m talking about!

So what are we waiting for? Let’s type Petal! (The following descriptions are probably going to be much shorter than the MBTI ones due to the types being self-explanatory given what I said earlier.)

After much deliberation, I have concluded that Petal’s Enneagram type, including wing, instinct stack, AND tritype is 2w1 so/sx 216 (2w1-1w2-6w7)!

What does it mean to be an Enneagram Type 2? In summary, 2s have a core desire of feeling loved, and a core fear of being unloved or unworthy of love. How does that relate to Petal? Well, an extremely common way that 2s want to feel loved...is by helping others! In fact, 2s are often seen as the “helpers” of the Enneagram world. They are generally empathetic, sincere, warmhearted, friendly, generous, and self-sacrificing. However, they can also be flattering and people-pleasing.

I mean...this fits her pretty damn well, I think! One thing to note about Enneagram typing is that it’s not finding exactly what fits a particular character, it’s what fits a character the most. And 2 definitely fits her a LOT. In her own words,

“Oh, I love helping!”

Does all of this sound familiar? If so, that’s because there’s actually a large overlap between ESFJs and 2s. Being helpful and compassionate towards others? Sensitive to criticism? Putting others before themselves, so much so that they forget their own needs? Yep, fits both of them well! In fact, a study done to find the correlation of MBTI and Enneagrams found that about 61% of ESFJs are 2s, and that about 47.5% of 2s are ESFJs. Very cool!

I feel like I really don’t need to say anything more here, since a lot of what was said about Petal in the previous sections can also be applied to type 2s. But let’s dive deeper into her specific wing, instinct stack and tritype!

Disintegration into 8

I want to briefly touch upon disintegration, or when you become so stressed that you inherit the bad aspects of a certain other type. This other type depends on your own type, but for Petal, she disintegrates into an 8, which makes her aggressive and domineering. She has been shown to get really angry at times, in particular when things don’t quite go her way or when someone left a really bad impression on her (critical Se!). In particular, she might cuss or insult others. She apologizes right after, however. (Now that I think about it, this may not be true disintegration...then again, maybe her becoming mean in “Petal Pushers” was?)

“When I’m underappreciated, I kick off!”

1 Wing

Enneagrams can also be split up into 2 “wings.” In short, a wing is something that enhances your type by inheriting characteristics of the adjacent type. If what you desire in your primary type is your end goal, your wing can be seen as HOW you achieve that goal.

Keeping that in mind, there are 2 possible wings for the helpful type 2s: 2w1, which incorporates the 1s’ sense of justice and perfectionism, thus wanting to achieve being loved through being prim and proper; and 2w3, which incorporates the 3s’ sense of ambition and goal-setting, thus wanting to achieve being loved through being successful. I mentioned Petal’s sense of justice before, which already makes her lean towards the 1 wing more. But let’s briefly dive into some differences between these two wings:

2w1s are more concerned with doing the right thing, while 2w3s are more concerned with keeping up a good image. Petal seems to genuinely care about others and wants what’s best for them.

2w1s want to be loved but being proper is almost more important. There have been times where Petal has spoken up about things needing to be done in a proper way. 2w3s, however, want to be loved and there could be nothing stopping them. They can be manipulative and competitive, and will try to help everyone.

I saw an analogy on Reddit that really sealed the deal for me: imagine that two 2s are about to serve a dish to a group of people. 2w1s will make the absolute best dish they could think of in the hopes that everyone will love it. 2w3s, however, would make everyone’s favorite dish to prepare it for every individual person. The first one definitely fits Petal better; in fact, she has served one appetizing dish to the other cats, and all of them loved it.

Knowing all of this, I can confidently say that Petal definitely fits the 1 wing better. For her, it’s not about success; it’s about being good, as well as her genuine love for those she cares about.

SO/SX Stack

Enneagrams can also be divided into 3 instinctual subtypes. The 3 instincts can be thought of as “survival mechanisms” for how to make it in the world, whether alone (self-preservation), with a partner (sexual), or with a group (social). Everyone has these instincts, but like the cognitive functions of MBTI, they are “stacked” to varying degrees of importance in one’s mind. There is the instinct that is sought, the one that is a resource, and the one that is ignored. Although instincts are different for each and every Enneagram, the core idea remains the same.

NOTE: Wings and instinct stacks DO NOT and SHOULD NOT affect each other! You can be of ANY wing and stack combination!

Knowing each of the instincts, I think it’s safe to say that for Petal, the self-preservation instinct is dead last in her stack. I don’t need to say again that she is mostly influenced by the people around her, and that she often does certain things only because everyone else is doing it. The question is...is Petal a social 2 or a sexual 2?

The way I see it, instincts enhance your core desire. On the one hand, social 2s want to feel loved by a group of people. They often are supportive and overextend themselves for the group in order to gain influence and love in it. On the other hand, sexual 2s want to have a partner to feel loved by, and can be seductive or manipulative in order to achieve this. In addition, people with the SO/SX stack tend to appear friendly and lighthearted on the outside, while those with the SX/SO stack can be energetic and enthusiastic, yet intense and impulsive. With this, I think SO/SX definitely fits Petal more.

216 Tritype

And last but definitely not least, comes the tritype. As stated earlier, there is an idea that people are of 3 Enneagram types (and wings!) at the same time, ALSO stacked based on importance! There are restrictions when it comes to what possible tritypes there are (specifically, you must have one type from each Enneagram triad), but each of these types work together to form a cohesive framework into what motivates your behavior as a person.

When figuring out Petal’s tritype, I was conflicted as to whether she was a 216 or a 269. What I was hung up on is the 1/9; does she strive for peace and harmony, or perfectionism more? To answer this, I decided to take a look at the two tritypes as a whole:

126s’ greatest ability is to be there and serve others when they need it, while 269s are excellent at dealing with conflict. Thinking about it, Petal definitely takes on more of a nurturing, protective “guardian” role more so than a “mediator” role. She can often be seen in the show doing chores around the house, helping out whenever it is necessary. It’s very important for her that any chores need to get done, and that others are responsible for their behavior. 9s in general tend to be very passive and have trouble asserting themselves, and let’s just say...Petal asserts herself when it’s right.

For example, in “Kitty Copy Cat,” the 28th episode of the 1st season, Kitty starts copying Miley’s behaviors, and the latter gets extremely upset. So she and Luna decide to get back at Kitty in order to get her to stop. They end up making Kitty angry and she storms off...but Petal witnessed the entire thing. And so she gave it to them straight.

“Ahem! Can someone please tell me why Kitty just ran off dressed like a rebellious teenager? Imitation is the highest form of flattery, and being catty is the last form of cat-havior! I expect better of both of you! Just fix this!”

Knowing this, the choice is very clear. Now that we have her basic tritype, we can go over her specific tritype: 2w1-1w2-6w7. If you know about the wings of types 1 and 6, it is clear that her wings are somewhat obvious. Her 1 has a 2 wing, as she is more inclined to make the group around her better by helping others be prim and proper, at the cost of her own needs. The last in her tritype is 6, which is about wanting to be safe and secure. Petal does seem like the type to want a safe and peaceful life, and she ensures that others are safe as well.

“I’m Petal. I’m looking forward to building a shelter, and making sure everyone works and plays nicely!”

One of the biggest differences between a 6w5 and a 6w7, though, is that the former wants to appear capable and competent, while the latter wants to have fun every once in a while. On occasion, Petal will definitely have fun, either dancing in one of the cats’ many cat parties, or going to a large social event, such as a craft market. Now that I think about it, 6w7 fits Petal infinitely more than 6w5; she is more social, remains optimistic, doubts herself more, is often pulled along with the group, and sometimes enjoys new ideas. There is absolutely no 6w5 in her. There’s no 5 in her whatsoever, even.

And we have covered pretty much everything! I may have missed some things worth noting, but I have covered the major portions pretty well, I think! But no matter what, even though Petal may be typed as an ESFJ 2w1 so/sx 216 (2w1-1w2-6w7), at the end of the day, she isn’t defined by any personality typing system...she is defined by who she is as a person. She is kind, caring, motherly, enthusiastic, and has a sense of justice. She is my lovely lady, my beautiful bride, my wonderful wife. Petal...is Petal. And there’s no changing that.

And that’s all, folks! Man, this was an insanely fun post to make! In fact, this may not be the only Personality Typing Deep Dive I make; if it’s requested, I may do one of these again, whether it’s for any of my non-romantic F/Os, or even other KINAC characters! If y’all think this is something you want to see more of in the future, please let me know!

Until then...see y’all in the next post! I love you so much, Petal!

Proship/comship DNI.

#kitty is not a cat #kinac #selfship #self ship #selfshipper #self shipper #selfshipping #self shipping #selfship community #self ship community #f/o #f/o community #personality typing #personality typology #mbti typology #enneagram typology

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aishangotome · 2 months ago

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Main Story S2 Chapter 4 Polyphony Ending: A Withering Daffodil (凋亡的水仙) | Light and Night 光與夜之戀

S2 Chapter 4 Dreamland

Witness's Story

Rejection is not the end; it is only the beginning.

The afternoon office hours were making her drowsy. Thirty years of day-in, day-out work had passed, and a month after stopping her medication, her heart finally no longer ached faintly.

She could have enjoyed this dull afternoon, but the blue folder on her desk made her sleepiness vanish without a trace.

Several days ago, she had encountered that young doctor named Charlie downstairs in her company.

Saying "encountered" wasn't quite accurate; the other party had clearly come prepared.

Holding a record of a post that should have disappeared long ago, Charlie asked her if she had noticed the side effects of the drug DEA and had ever tried to report them to the relevant departments.

"I've also discovered this, and there's a theoretical basis for it,"

He said--

"But information alone isn't enough. I'm preparing to hold a press conference to attract public attention."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Would you be willing to attend as a witness?"

She remembered his eyes, purple, like clear crystals in the sunlight, with a hint of a smile.

They were also filled with the fearlessness and courage of some idealistic martyr.

He said---

"I've thought about many more subtle ways to ask, but this way should still be the best."

Yes, this way was still the best. But she still shook her head and denied it.

"That post doesn't exist, and DEA doesn't have any side effects," she replied.

Her tone and expression must have revealed something -- for example, that her denial wasn't firm, and the other party had keenly noticed it.

Since that day, the young doctor often appeared around her, so much so that her colleagues jokingly said that she had found romance in her fifties, with a handsome young man waiting for her at the door after work.

Romance? She couldn't help but admire her colleagues' overactive imaginations.

Couldn't they see that this legendary handsome young man would occasionally hold two popsicles while waiting, sharing them with a pretty young woman beside him?

When she came out, the pretty young woman would always smile at her shyly, and the handsome young man would raise his hand and greet her cheerfully.

She had criticized his recklessness and earnestly told him not to hold naïve ideals of executing justice.

In her opinion, any action by this young doctor would ultimately sink without a trace, or worse, be like a moth drawn to a flame.

What's more, why would the public believe him? Just based on those documents and a few scattered witnesses?

"It doesn't matter."

Charlie shrugged, seemingly not caring whether people believed him or not.

"What I want is for the press conference to be held."

All he wanted was to draw everyone's attention to DEA once.

Seeing that she still had no intention of yielding, Charlie didn't press further.

He only said one last sentence---

"At least within the scope of your influence, persuade your relatives and friends to reduce their use of DEA. Its side effects are even more serious than what was mentioned in the post."

He didn't seem disappointed. It was a kind-hearted piece of advice. She thought she could accept it.

Her gaze fell back to the desk. The blue folder had been opened at some point, revealing a thick stack of materials inside.

Countless experiments, analyses, and verifications showed how much effort the person who wrote this material had put in.

The young doctor's words echoed in her ears again and again. Finally, she picked up her phone and dialed the number on the black and gold business card.

One last time, she thought. Let her be a brave and fearless person once more.

Dr. He's Story

He knew clearly that he was stepping into the abyss.

As people age, they tend to recall many things from the past. Recently, Dr. He often thought of the scene when the Zha family left Guangqi.

Charlie was only five years old, but he was already very sure he wanted to be a doctor, even though he didn't seem to understand what a doctor was.

His hand trembling, he habitually took out a pill and put it in his mouth, then reluctantly picked up his water glass.

During this process, he kept telling himself that this abnormality was just due to fatigue and would get better soon.

The warm water went down his throat, and the pill disappeared into his mouth.

Almost simultaneously, a familiar, persistent voice rang in Dr. He's mind --

"Heart problems are just one of the side effects; there are many others..."

Persistent was a very fitting label for Charlie.

This persistence was reflected in his doctor's benevolence and also in his tireless investigation.

The last time he saw Charlie was at the hospital entrance.

At that time, Charlie had just come out of the operating room, swallowed a pill, and with a slight bow of his head, saw Charlie passing by in a hurry through the window.

"He's lost weight." He looked at the noticeably haggard figure, shaking his head and sighing.

If he wasn't mistaken, that face must be covered in dust and fatigue now, and his eyes must be bloodshot.

He was still running around for the "truth."

Old He was momentarily dazed. When he came back to his senses, the trembling in his hand had subsided. The medicine had taken effect.

But a pair of sharp purple eyes seemed to appear before him, their gaze clear, without any redness, and without a smile, only disappointment.

Scenes of the two of them performing surgery together also surfaced one by one, the casual yet respectful "Master" and "Old He" echoing in his ears.

Actually, he didn't need these memories to remind him.

No matter when, he could never forget his original intention for inviting Charlie, nor could he deny Charlie's obsession with "saving people."

This was what a doctor should do, but the prerequisite was to have the identity of a "doctor," and he was about to lose everything.

Now that things had come to this, he had no way back. He even knew clearly that he was stepping into the abyss.

.....

Charlie's voice was close at hand, his tone betraying fatigue but also relaxed and natural. He could tell that Charlie was happy for him.

He gave a vague "hmm," hesitated for a few seconds, then turned around and awkwardly changed the subject, his hand unconsciously reaching into the pocket of his white coat.

Zha Zhao Peng's Story

He knew his child was strong.

The five minutes he stood in front of the French windows were rare moments for Zha Zhao Peng when he thought of nothing.

Outside the window, the sky was clear and bright, but the various media platforms were far from peaceful.

The news of the Novaten Pharmaceutical heir's disappearance in the DEA warehouse fire was rampant, with speculation, sympathy, and gloating voices abound.

"Sir, should we cancel today's meeting?"

Ji Xiu asked as usual, with dark circles under his eyes.

He remembered clearly that the last time such a major change occurred was twenty-three years ago, and the master had canceled a whole month's work. Perhaps the current Zha family also needed time to breathe.

Zha Zhao Peng withdrew his gaze from the distance and looked at Ji Xiu, neither sad nor angry.

"No need to cancel."

He paused, then asked,

"How much longer until he arrives?"

"About five minutes."

Zha Zhao Peng nodded and sat back down at his desk. The computer screen was still on the news reports and on-site photos of the fire.

Fire, disappearance—he was familiar with all of this, just as he was familiar with the person he was about to meet.

Five minutes later, the minister arrived. Zha Zhao Peng, with just the right amount of sadness and the dullness that sadness brought, finalized the subsequent cooperation on DEA with him.

As the meeting was drawing to a close, the minister paused and sighed with heartfelt grief.

"My condolences, Old Zha. I watched that child grow up too. If you need anything, I'll provide all the help I can."

Not too much sorrow, just the right amount of sincerity—politicians were the best actors.

Zha Zhao Peng had gotten used to this performance more than a decade ago and knew that there was no point in feeling disgusted by it.

So he nodded silently, thanking the other party. The minister's performance received its feedback. He stood up, ready to leave.

But just then, Zha Zhao Peng behind him spoke again.

"Speaking of which, don't you also have a child who's about the same age as Charlie?"

The minister shook his head.

"Old Zha, you're not in a suitable state to talk about this right now. Get some rest."

"Not suitable? Perhaps. Twenty-three years ago, I was much better off than I am now, because there was still Charlie."

"He was a strong child. After the fire department found him, he was critically ill several times, but he still survived."

"But I don't know if all children are like that."

But I don't know if your child is like that.

....

Those snake-like eyes seemed to look right through him, towards his child.

Wang Shou's Story

Recklessness was the only path to becoming king.

Before meeting that supreme being, he had been in a strange state for a long time.

Without desire, without demand, without love, and even more so without hatred. He wandered aimlessly day after day, in the underworld. Together with all those who had been abandoned by the annals of history, the fallen ones, he wandered in the underworld.

And "above"?... To him, it was just a distant word, a past that had lost its meaning.

He had thought he would continue to wander like this until space itself disappeared and time was exhausted.

But fate seemed to still favor him, bringing him before that being.

He didn't know how long the other had been there, but it must have been longer than his own eternity.

And in that long span of time, He had always maintained a strong emotion for the world above, like hatred, and like ambition.

That intense emotion also enveloped him, reawakening his desire to be an emperor.

Meaning returned to him, and everything on the surface, everything in the past, even his own name, he remembered.

He recalled how the spirited young general had fought for him on all sides, and how he had turned against him. He remembered how his empire had been destroyed in an instant, and how he had died, his country perished, becoming a forgotten failure in history.

He extended an invitation to him, asking him to return to the battlefield and conquer, to bring the world above back into his grasp. He readily agreed.

He began to prepare for this day after day, no matter how long it took, he would wait.

Undisturbed by external forces, unmoved by material things, only then could he shoulder the great affairs of the world.

Now, that day was about to arrive. He had found the girl's unparalleled power. The supreme being had also seen the man with the black wings.

He did not yet know how He would use him, but in any case, everything foreshadowed a very good beginning.

Charlie's POV

Before the DEA warehouse fire.

Charlie arrived at the laboratory. Without any pleasantries or preamble, he directly handed a piece of paper filled with writing to Kellerman.

Kellerman: You solved the last set of formulas?

The stark white light of the laboratory shone on the paper. The handwriting looked so faint it felt unreal, just like Charlie's mental state.

Kellerman saw the dark circles under his eyes. Without asking, he knew that Charlie hadn't rested for several days in a row.

Charlie: I can't stay here for too long. If anything comes up, find me at the Ritz bar.

Charlie: The first-generation DEA side effect antidote will take at least five more days to complete development. I'll be there during these days.

Kellerman: Can't you just go back to Guangqi? Charlie, you need to rest.

Charlie silently curved his lips into a smile but didn't say anything. He just shook his head, his purple eyes slightly closed, as if trying to suppress the longing and attachment that welled up in his heart.

Charlie: Once the antidote is complete, I'll trouble you to dismiss everyone.

Kellerman: You're shutting down the lab?

Charlie: Just consider it a long vacation. Stay on standby at home.

Kellerman: Be careful.

Kellerman was about to turn back to his experiment when the corner of his eye caught a "green" shadow. He turned his head and noticed that Charlie was carrying a bag full of avocados.

Kellerman: Aren't you allergic to avocados? You never even eat avocado salad at gatherings. Why are you buying so many today?

Charlie blinked innocently, his eyes filled with confusion and a hint of barely perceptible mischief.

Charlie: Really? You must be mistaken. Avocado is my favorite.

He finished speaking and turned to leave, even his wave looking very natural and unrestrained. Kellerman couldn't help but raise his hand and scratch his head.

People were coming and going on the street. Charlie walked through the crowd carrying the bag, feeling a sense of being lost in time.

Several years ago, he was also like this, carrying avocados and weaving through the crowds on the same street.

It was just that back then, he was fully disguised, afraid of meeting anyone familiar who would know the difference between him and his brother: his older brother was allergic to avocados, while the younger brother loved them.

But that day, he was so incredibly craving them, craving them so much that nothing he did could alleviate the desire for avocados. So in the end, he still went out to the supermarket.

It was close to closing time at the supermarket, and only one box of premium avocados remained. There were ordinary ones, of course, but he didn't like those.

Charlie: There's still some left.

He reached out expectantly, but just as his fingers touched the edge of the box, another hand gripped the other side.

He thought he was a gentleman and should gracefully let go. But he didn't.

Girl: You can have them.

The girl opposite him let go first. By the time Charlie came back to his senses, she had already disappeared. He didn't even have a chance to thank her.

But fate is a wonderful thing. He ran into her again at the supermarket entrance. She was carrying large and small bags from the supermarket and got into a car.

Probably tourists traveling with friends? Through the receding car window, he clearly saw the girl and her friends laughing and playing, looking happy and carefree.

For some reason, he stood there for quite a while, watching the car full of happiness drive further and further away, before finally taking his avocados and hiding in a hotel room to devour them all.

In just over ten minutes, he seemed to have felt the girl's heartfelt happiness and freedom.

Thinking of this, the corners of Charlie's mouth involuntarily turned up slightly. He stopped at the intersection where that car had driven away years ago, the girl's face vaguely overlapping with that of another person who haunted his dreams.

Charlie - Embracing the Inferno (投奔烈火)

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#light and night season 2 #light and night polyphony #light and night translations #charlie #zha lisu

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write-and-buried · 3 years ago

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Celestial Navigation

Part 2 - Waxing Crescent

Summary; You're not going back there because of him. It was just a good cup of coffee... that's all. Warnings; Explicit m!masturbation, Dieter having a filthy, filthy mind. Some drug use (marijuana) A/N; The sheer volume of love and support people have given me and this fic has been overwhelming and delightful and thank you so so so much for everything <3

[Series Masterlist] // [Main Masterlist] [prev] - [next]

It’s sticky. The mercury rising well past ninety, the humidity hovering nearby. Everything feels thick, the air clouded with the misery of angry hot New Yorkers and blaring horns from cars with air conditioning that smells like onions and pollution.

Everyone’s sticking together. Moving masses of stale sweat that cross streets and hide in weak shadows to get away from the angry sun. The park is a symphony of discomfort, no relief to be found in the shade, everyone trapped in the same loop of complaints about the heat, lethargic silences and fanning themselves before starting the cycle again.

On the street you slip through crowds like scaled fish, slipping between sticky bodies as you duck and weave through traffic. Your feet are carrying you without permission, your mind still catching up. It’s just a good cup of coffee. Its just a quiet corner, somewhere free of people desperate for air conditioning and somewhere to hide from the sun.

It’s just the steam rising from a freshly baked muffin. Its crystallised sugar and fresh blueberries. It’s nothing else. You’ve been telling yourself that for the last ten days. It has nothing to do with cinnamon brown eyes and wide palms and a soft touch. It’s not the voice that warps through sweaty dreams and wakes you confused.

Dieter Bravo.

The name tastes like toffee on your tongue. You’ve rolled it through your teeth in meetings, top button undone as the air conditioning struggles and chokes to keep up. Everyone on edge as the first round of layoffs approaches. You think you’re safe. There’s a list of reasons tucked in your journal, right at the back in tiny print. Enough that it can’t be read over your shoulder.

Matthew bungled the spreadsheet. Eileen couldn’t raise her voice in a meeting. Thomas and Simon blew off a client to play golf. You were safe. Not enough for your name to be called upon, not enough to warrant more than another stack of folders on your shared desk, more data to analyse, more dollars to move from column a to column b. The mathematical alchemy you studied as you switch accounts and make your clients richer, as if they’d notice the extra zeroes from their poolside retreat in the Hamptons.

“I am”

It has nothing to do with the feeling creeping up and down your rib cage, tickling the corners of your lungs, slithering under your skin and making a chill seep in that has nothing to do with the weather. It’s not three days of meetings where every management officer forgot your name. It’s reports rotating through for corrections, lazy slashes that put hours of work through the shredder. It’s not hearing your name only when you give it at Starbucks. It’s not your empty apartment, or your silent phone. It’s just a good cup of coffee.

There are more people in here today. Crowded around rusted tables, animated conversation. The lamps are switched off, the only light filtering in from windows you didn’t notice the last time, giving the room an ethereal glow. You scuff your feet as you look behind the counter.

The same spindly barista as last time, tall and twitching limbs, hair piled high on his head as he focuses intently on the gleaming machine. His skin is glowing with sweat as he is obscured by more steam, arms and fingers moving in tandem as you watch him pour a careful swan into a cup, carrying it to a table with a grin.

A pretty woman with long braids is sitting on the counter, half turned towards the barista as she offers customers a card reader, change she digs from the tray beside her, one foot dangling lazily as she drinks green juice from a chipped beer mug. They laugh, half ignoring the line that creeps steadily, customers handing cups and taking them, pastries put into brown bags. The bell over the door groans every thirty seconds.

You wait in line and force your eyes to stay ahead. You don’t want to look for him, don’t want to catch a hint of the soft curls in this romantic lighting. You’re here for a good cup of coffee. There are half a dozen tables free. The place hums with conversation, bees on spring flowers. The rhythmic thump of the woman’s foot against the concrete. You can relax here, brainstorm ideas for the next steps of your plan, hope the brick building had enough reception to google search when you need it.

You rehearse your order when you’re next in line. Black coffee and a muffin, blueberry if they have it, anything else if they don’t. There’s an armchair in the corner that looks like it’s from the Nixon administration. Mustard yellow with faded flowers, squashy and soft. A small end table is next to it, spindle legged and delicate looking. You keep glancing, hopeful that nobody swipes it while the guy in front of you asks questions to the bored looking woman who answers him with a hum.

“Could I please get a black coffee and a blueberry muffin?”

The barista’s eyes shoot up from the intricate artwork he’s pouring. He spills milk across his thumb with a curse, dropping the cup on the counter as he stares at you. You hand over crumpled bills to the woman with a small thank you, the intensity of his gaze making your teeth itch. You’re shuffled away by a mother trying to order, distracting her toddler with a jangling necklace as she orders a triple espresso.

The barista runs the coffee, his eyes sweeping back over to you as you sink into the worn softness of the armchair. You see him grab his phone, pressing it between his shoulder and ear as he grabs a muffin from under the counter. Its on a plate already. You can see the blueberries from your seat. You pull your journal from the bag tucked at your side. There’s a crisp page waiting for you, thought balloons empty and waiting to be filled.

Dieter never answers his phone. It exists because the world insists it does, sitting good as new in a ceramic bowl he made himself, surrounded by lonely Altoids and paperclips he has no use for. He’s pretty sure Molly charges it for him, entering his apartment when he’s asleep, or too high to notice and plugging it in. He finds it in strange places sometimes.

It rings when it needs to. The emergency numbers people call him on blare like foghorns. Molly, Owen, he’s still the emergency contact for a kindred spirit in California. They swapped names post emancipation, gangly teens with nothing to lose and boxes to fill. He sometimes wonders what constitutes an emergency, because he knows there have been some, splashed in bright colours in the magazines his patrons leave behind.

The waiting is the worst. It’s been ten days since he met you. Ten days without the flashbang of your smile to blind him, your voice to deafen him. Washing the hands that touched you felt like a crime.

Molly kicked him out after the armchair. He dragged it three blocks when he saw it. Squashy mustard yellow with wide armrests. He cleaned it himself, shampooing it in the middle of the morning rush, ignoring anyone who asked him what he was doing. He was imagining you spreading your legs over the arms of the chair, of the way he could fit his shoulders between them, the soft crease of your thigh under his teeth. The sweet little whimpers you’d make as he circled your clit with his tongue, how long you’d let him explore you, how much you’d like his fingers digging into your skin.

He was banished to his apartment at the close of business. Owen promised to call when (if) you reappeared. Of course, you would reappear. The thin thread of fate tied you together. It was just how long those golden threads would take to disentangle, to lead you back to him.

He could chase you of course. Owen had found your Instagram within twenty minutes of you leaving. Dieter had lamented how even New York had lost its anonymity while scrolling through photos of your life. There was a plant in the corner of your apartment that needed attention, its leaves turning downward in the background.

But why run towards you when it would only make you run away? Your palm told the story of someone with a plan. You had steps and goals and lofty ambitions and throwing himself in front of the freight train of your determination would do nothing but flatten him against the tracks. Better to wait at the station, you would arrive exactly when you needed to.

He could already see what you would hate in this apartment. The mismatched cutlery would drive you crazy. The keys he threw at random and could never find, the bedding never made, the corners non-existent. He was looking forward to fighting over the details with you, of making up with chocolate covered strawberries and his tongue buried in your cunt.

It was that argument, imagined in his head that brought him here, standing under the cool spray of the shower in the thick heat, stroking his cock languidly as the water dripped from his nose. He was raw, chafed and close to sore from his own rough handling, the brutal strokes with spit on his couch as he fit an orgasm between puffs on a joint. He was tender, scraped dull by squeezing too hard, sensitive from stretching too much.

His cock feels heavy in his hand, hot and thick under his palm as he bit down on his lip and squeezed a reluctant drop of precum over his knuckles. He was half hard almost constantly, everything a reminder of the sweetness of the almost smile you gave him, the softness of your skin. He thinks you might bruise easily. He could mark you, dig his fingers deep into your thighs and bite the flesh until it mottled, part your lips with his thumb and come on your face, press it into your waiting tongue and kiss you, taste the salt and the sweet.

His cock jerked in his grasp, angry and stinging as he soothed himself with gentle squeezes. He had to be patient, waiting for you. It would take longer for you to kiss him, for the crack to erode into a stream, to trickle down and break the dam and fling your arms around him and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. He could barely breathe already.

It’s sharp, the arousal, like shards of glass under his skin. He can’t wait to peel the clothing from you, to press his mouth against the softness of your belly, to take you hard and frantic and fast the first time, so the second time would be sweeter. He wants to cum inside you, bend you over and press your face to his soft mattress and pull out, watch the fluttering clench of your sweet cunt as he drips down your thighs. He wants to lick it off.

Would you be able to take him whole, the first time? Others had trouble in the past, needed a soft touch and lots of build-up, or just the tip squeezed in while he jerked himself to completion. Would he get to watch your lips try and fit around the head of him, or would you prefer kitten licks and long gazes, your tongue flat along the vein on the underside.

He feels his balls draw tight at the image, of you wide eyed and fucked out, mouth open and waiting for him, his fist squeezing cum onto your tongue as you said his name in that voice he hasn’t been able to capture yet. He cums almost dry over his fist, shaking in the tepid water as his toes curl.

You would come back. You had to come back. He had so many things to tell you. Like how he watched the episode of I Love Lucy with Tallulah Bankhead and saw you in the flirty rise of her eyebrow. How he found interviews with Bette Davis and knew you had a tongue as sharp as hers. How much he loved you, how hard he found it to be so far apart – how absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

Owen called him crazy. Dieter had been called worse.

He’s curling his hand around the font of your voice when it rings again, just picking up a paintbrush and realising this colour isn’t right either, there’s not enough warmth in the grey. The blaring horn that makes him think of air raids, though he’s never been through one. He snaps the paintbrush in frustration, letting it fall onto the antique hardwood, seeping another stain into the dark wood.

He snaps it open and waits. Sometimes Owen or Molly are just checking in on him. 72 hours without a sighting was enough to warrant a phone call. By his count it had only been 49. He breathes heavy down the line as he hears the hiss of a steam wand, the buzzing of conversation in the background, the low hum of a business that paid bills he could already afford.

“She’s here”

The crash stops the bustle in its tracks. Something breaks as you hear a loud swear, the rustle of beads as a figure comes crashing through the curtain. It’s him. He looks wild, damp hair curling in all directions, a t shirt stretched tight across his shoulders. The loudest boardshorts you’ve ever seen and mismatched crocs as he stumbles upright, tilting in an overcorrection as he waves his arms, a magician with a magic trick as conversation resumes.

Your eyes flick to the baristas behind the counter. The man is openly laughing, the woman smothering it into her shoulder. There’s a coffee and a muffin at the end of the bench and Dieter grabs it as he makes a beeline towards you, sidestepping the toddler making patterns in sugar on the floor.

“You came back”

“It’s good coffee…” you trail off, pretending to forget his name, as if you haven’t googled him every day since, finding nothing of interest, a blank Instagram, an empty Facebook, placeholders for a digital life. He exists in front of you, not online.

“I know. That’s Owen. He found me a year after I opened this place and started working here, I let him do whatever he wants – except set up social medias and put a sign on the door. He wants to enter competitions as a barista and he’s really into older men”

He’s talking fast, dragging a chair next to you as he sets the coffee and the muffin on the side table. You can smell him, matches and sandalwood, baked apples and caramel. His hair catches the light, you can see flecks of grey.

“Molly, the girl. She used to be a nanny on the Upper East, but they fired her when she got the nose piercing. She takes it out on me by reminding me to eat breakfast every day and doing my drycleaning. I know you’re going to say it’s pretty sad a grown man can’t do his own laundry, but once you get to know me, you’ll understand why and I think you’ll accept it, if not, I’ll ask Mol to set up a service at our place, so you don’t even notice”

“I told you I don’t believe in soul mates”

“I know.” He says, shrugging as he continues to point out regulars, the ones he knows from years of trickling information, what he likes to paint in his apartment upstairs. You drink the coffee and eat the muffin as he talks, a soft sense of calm rushing through you as he talks, soothing the ache in the back of your brain.

“How was your week?”

“Fine”

“Liar” He grins as he looks at you, a sparkle in the cinnamon brown.

“It was fine, it was…”

“Enough to bring you back to a soul mate you don’t believe in, for a cup of coffee and a muffin?”

“No, that’s not… I” You’re flustered by his honesty, by the lack of judgement in his eyes.

“Are you a lawyer?” he asks.

“No, I work in finance”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s just, right now it’s competitive. I’m working for to be hired at the end of the year for a junior position on the team. There are three spots available and a hundred of us working for it”

“Ah” he says, nodding, waiting for you to continue. You can’t help it, telling him about your week, the meetings, the revisions, the hours of work you put into a proposal that ended up in a pile of a hundred others just like it. The layoffs that you’re sure you’re safe for, but not positive, and how that’s led you to lose some sleep. The ex-boyfriend with Instagram photos in the Bahamas, the manicured hand on his shoulder.

“You want to make him jealous?” he interjects, sitting upright and teetering off his chair.

“No, I don’t care” you say, shaking your head. “It’s just annoying on top of everything else. All my life I was told if I worked hard, I’d make it. And I’ve been working hard my whole life, and I don’t think I’ve made it yet”

The sting behind your eyes is a surprise. A burn that you thought you buried as you force them back, frustrated tears don’t have a box to fit in, they aren’t supposed to exist. You’re waiting for the comfort. For the same platitudes you’ve heard every time you’re three gins deep and voice these fears. That you just have to work a little harder, a little longer, that you’ll make it if you just persevere.

“Sounds fucked up. Quit”

It startles a laugh out of you, whipping to look at his scrunched face as he scratches at his beard.

“What?”

“You ever see WarGames? God that was a great movie, Broderick, before he was Bueller. You ever hear the theory about that movie. Not the one about it all being in Cameron’s head, that one’s old hat, but that it’s another Groundhog Day? That the mechanism of his perfect day off had to have been tried and tested and perfected over a long period, that it’s been multiple years of him reliving this same day so why doesn’t he do whatever he wants, why doesn’t he sing in a parade and kiss the girl and free his friend. Even the fourth wall breaks, he’s recalling a memory. Like he was living in a simulation all along…”

“Dieter?”

“Yeah right, sorry. Anyway. The only winning move is not to play. They keep telling you to work harder and more and I thought the idea was that you did that to work less, but from what you’re telling me that doesn’t seem like the case. So, quit. Do something else”

“I don’t want to do something else. I want to do this.”

“Why?”

“I’m good at it”

“I’m good at lots of things, but they aren’t all I do. I did these tattoos, see how straight the lines are? But I don’t run a tattoo parlour. I can make women squirt all over me, but my face isn’t splashed on Pornhub, I can grow weed, but this isn’t a dispensary, I can paint but its not an art gallery.”

“What’s your point?” you’re trying to ignore the middle comment, despite the tingle in your thighs.

“I bet you’re good at lots of things too.”

He smiles at you again, and it warms your insides.

“Ginger, I’m going to write down my phone number, because this has been a heavy conversation and you’re about to try and figure out how to get out of it, so I’m going to get up and go back behind that beaded curtain because that’s where the stairs to my apartment are. I’m going to go upstairs and watch Top Hat on my projector because this has been a marvellous dance and I want to see another. But you’ll think of something that you’re good at and you’ll call me in no less than… three days I think”

He kisses your knuckles before he goes, whistling to himself as he disappears behind the beaded curtain. The hum of conversation in the café comes back in waves, everything returning to focus when you hadn’t realised it had been so blurry. When you look down at your journal, his number is scribbled under the heading Next Steps.

You swallow the smile as you leave.

Dieter watches the ceiling fan whenever he wakes up. The lazy rotation of the blades, painted marigold yellow, match the sunshine as consciousness comes to him. The heatwave has finally broken, a cool breeze brings the smell of turned earth into his bedroom, the doors and windows wide open as the cacophony of street noise dulls in comparison to the steady whump of his fan.

He could lay here for hours, hypnotising himself as the world turns on its axis outside this little bubble, content in the constant spinning of the blades as he watches, the only witness to its reliability. He teases himself in wondering if it still spins when he leaves the room, if the room exists if he’s not in it, if anything exists but the waiting.

His phone blares from his bedside table. A number he doesn’t recognise as he grabs at it, answering and waiting for another telemarketer to ask him to invest in solar panels, as if he had a roof to install them on.

“I can fold a fitted sheet” your voice is tinny, softer on the phone than in person.

“Now we’re getting somewhere” he replies, falling back on his pillows with a grin.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo / you #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic #dieter fic

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maseshine · 3 years ago

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: where manson speaks truths to you, not knowing the consequences that would bring

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬: enemies, birthday party

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, alcohol consumption, angst

𝐚/𝐧: i'm open to requests! i write using a dash and my first language is not English!

𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲, parte ² || mason mount

Mason stared at himself in the large mirror of his closet, his eyes analysing the clothes his stylist had chosen for the occasion. It was true that his favourite clothes were sweatshirts, but he always wanted to look good when he went out for something more casual, and that’s where Carlotta came in.

Approving what he had seen, Mason walked deeper into his closet, he was behind his favourite watch when he unintentionally hit one of the white boxes stacked to the ground, photos spread across the floor.

━ Shit! ━ Cursing loudly, Mason knelt down and began to clean up the mess he had made.

His breath was caught when he saw one of the photos, for years there is no way, to tell the truth he did not even remember having kept the photo, sitting on the floor Mason started to observe the image.

A fifteen-year-old Mason smiled wide, in his arms an equally smiling thirteen-year-old Y/N was looking at the camera. The mark of his teenage years stamped on his features, Mason remembered very well the day the photo was taken.

He had scored a goal and both he and Y/N were very happy about it, he had even dedicated the goal to her. They finished the day at his house watching his film marathon. Mason sighed.

Most of the photos had her, in some of them just the two, in other Declan and some base boys who were also their friends. Memory after memory wandered through Mason’s mind, memories he’d been avoiding for some time, which he kept locked away. His mind also made a point of reminding him how he treated her today.

The most recent had her weeping at her birthday party after hearing all her bad words. It was the first time he saw her cry over something he had said, and he didn’t think it could really hurt to see her do it, especially knowing it was because of him.

And it was in those times that Mason hated what they had become. From best friends to almost enemies who mostly just hurt themselves, him more than anything. She never started anything, but she defended herself every time he attacked, but even he admitted that he was always the cruellest of the two. And it was in those moments too much that he actually almost hated himself.

Taking a deep breath again, he put all the pictures in the box again, swearing in his head that if he saw her today at the party he wouldn’t talk to her and wouldn’t even have a bad attitude, maybe if they just ignored each other they wouldn’t risk getting hurt permanently.

Deep in his heart, Mason just wanted to go back to a time when both of them were almost inseparable friends.

Mason’s ears reached out as he entered the main room and listened to the loud sound he played, bodies moved on the improvised dance floor, some couples kissed in the darkest corners that the bright lights on the ceiling could not reach. Electronic music made everyone jump together, Mason’s eyes travelling around the room looking for some familiar face.

He saw some girls waving at him, but didn’t pay attention, today he wasn’t in the mood to flirt with anyone, spending time with his companions would be enough.

Seeing Ben and Kai, his feet began to circle the people along the way, which took a few minutes, he had no idea who had invited so many people, but the place was full, and he could not identify half the faces that greeted him.

━ Hey, you idiots. ━ It was your compliment to two friends. ━ Who are most of these people?

━ I have no idea, someone had the brilliant idea to spread about the party and the lot of people showed up, and the result is what you’re seeing. ━ Kai explained to the number 19.

━ Where are the rest of the boys? And the girls? ━ Mason asked while accepting Ben’s drink.

━ Christian, Reece, Trevoh and Hudson must be in the kitchen or flirting around. Timo went to the bathroom. Sophia and Paula must be upstairs. ━ Kai responded by sipping his drink.

━ And Y/N? ━ Mason found himself asking before he could think straight, the looks on his friends' faces made him confused.

━ Dude, did you forget? ━ Ben asked his friend, he and everyone knew of the fights between Mason and Y/N, but he did not remember, this was too much of a careless even for him.

━ Forgot what? ━ The confusion must have shone on Mason’s face as his friends stared at each other in surprise.

━ Y/N left two weeks ago, Mase. ━ Mason felt his breath catch on hearing Kai’s words, his brain processing the information as his friends watched him.

━ What? ━ Those were the only words he could muster.

━ She went to Spain. She transferred to college, she received an internship proposal in Vogue Spain as well as an evaluation period for modelling in one of the major agencies there. She will spend the next six months there and depending on how everything happens she can live there for a while. ━ Ben said it all in one breath. Mason’s head turned further, disconnected words echoing in his mind.

━ When did she tell everyone? ━ The brown eyes found the pain of her friends.

━ At her birthday party. While celebrating the anniversary was also a way to say goodbye to all of us, we know you left before the announcement, but we thought she had told you. His whole family seemed to know. ━ Ben spoke softly, Mason could see the look of pity in his eyes.

━ No, I didn’t know. ━ Mason answered by denying it with his head.

━ Didn’t you see the photos she posted? ━ Kai asked by pulling up her phone and going on Instagram.

━ No. I believe she must have blocked me on all social media. ━ Mason spoke of a sigh, his heart beating fast with all the new information thrown at him in the last few minutes.

━ See. ━ Taking your friend’s cell phone. The smiling face of Y/N occupied the screen, Mason looked at the photo for a few moments before passing to the others, with each photo he saw his heart speeding up more.

The words of his friends became true when his eyes saw every tourist centre of Barcelona. The last words of Y/N coming to your mind.

Maybe you can do this faster than you think.

Delivering Kai’s cell phone in a hurry, Mason took no time to get away from his friends, ignoring his calls, the glass of drink in his hand falling to the ground, the disillusionment of his body when he realized he had actually crossed the line. The hurt permanent laughing at him now.

#football #chelsea fc #london #football imagine #premier league #footballer #masterlist #imagine #soccer player #love #mason mount imagine #mason x reader #mason mount

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wellthebardsdead · 3 years ago

Text

Gateway {Hanzo Shimada X Fem Reader}

I’m probably going to re-write this fic at some point because I’m just not happy with it.

{Edit: also for this I know Hanzo doesn’t actually have prosthetics he just got dainty ankles but dammit I love the tortured possibilities the head cannon gives him as a character so I’m doing it dang it!}

Enjoy!~Bambi

The bustling of the convention floor echoed on every wall and through every hall, BlizzCon was in full swing, and you along with a selection of guest cosplayers had a front seat row to it all.

To say it was a dream come true would be an understatement. To think a year ago you were just a collage student, and now you were a rising star amongst the cosplay community, more specifically, the overwatch community in general.

You initially bought the game to play with friends in your free time, and you fell head over heels in love with the characters and their designs. One character in particular though stole not only your attention, but your heart. Hanzo Shimada.

His hair, his costumes, his tattoos. Everything about him was breathtaking to you. You found yourself analysing piece by piece of his look until eventually you scrimped and saved enough to go out and buy the materials needed to make it for yourself, a feminine variant of it at least. Your main was your very first cosplay, and the one that sparked your professional career.

Upon wearing it to a small local convention you bumped into several well known cosplayers who were chasing the con season for all its worth. They fawned over your craftsmanship and when you mentioned setting up an Instagram for your work they begged you to do so so they could follow you.

You uploaded a single photo, that was all it took. From there your career spiraled up the ladder and your follower count rose drastically. And now here you were, a renowned artist with a lineup of supporters waiting for their photo with you.

You stood at your booth dawning your latest creation, cyber ninja Hanzo. It wasn’t your most comfortable cosplay, it was an exact replica but it was rigid, hard to sit down in and impossible to go to the bathroom in. Still blizzard paid you a pretty penny to make and wear it, plus, you had thousands of people lined up just to see you, who were you to complain.

A beaming smile spread across your face as your next fan approached, although it was hidden by your mask. You gave them a hug and thanked them for their support before the photographer snapped a pic. Hug, thanks, photo, bye. Hug, thanks, photo, bye... hug... thanks... photo...

...“god you smell so good in person my sweet dragon girl, I finally get to hold you, I finally have you.” ...

You felt the strange man press up something against your hip... it was wet...

“LET GO OF ME!! HELP ME PLEASE!!!!” You screamed.

You don’t recall what happened, just con security running off after that creep, and a number of staff and convention officials crowding around where you lay on the floor sobbing in panic...

...

That was a month ago now....

...

A loud knock at the door startled your attention away from your work, a sharp pained gasp escaped your lips as you accidentally pricked your finger with the sewing needle. You quickly set the silk down before wrapping your finger in a bandaid. This fabric was too expensive to be ruined.

The sub emote on your twitch drew your attention to the screen. Several comments asking if you were okay, others saying to have your phone ready when you answer the door. “Thank you for the subs guys... y-yeah I’m okay.” You smile sheepishly before standing up from your desk and walking out of your craft studio.

You cautiously crept through the hall being mindful of all the packing boxes stacked along the wall. You’d moved into this apartment after the incident at BlizzCon... When you arrived home after the weekend you found him waiting outside your front door with a bouquet of roses in his hands... you called the police... he got away before they could arrive.

...You had a stalker...

Immediately they had you pack up your belongings and you had no choice but to move across state for your own safety. You closed your fan mail P.O. Box and didn’t dare reopen one in case he figured out your new city... but you weren’t free of him... no, he wouldn’t leave you alone...

He flooded your emails, your comments on every post, and every stream with his deluded sick ramblings. Outright demanding you be his wife, calling you a slut for sharing more provocative cosplays with anyone else but him, sending you links to articles of clothing he wanted you to wear, to begging you to give him your address so he could deliver you ‘gifts’ in person...

Each time you blocked him, and each time he came back with a new number, a new email, a new account. The police couldn’t track him, and he openly admitted he loved how afraid he’d made you feel, saying he felt like a real life yandere... and you were his darling...

Needless to say, it had taken an aggressive toll on your health. The high levels of stress you were experiencing left you neurotic, you were afraid to leave the house and each time you did you felt like you were being watched, even a short trip to the corner store felt impossible without a disguise and at least one other person with you.

And to say it had affected your physical health as much as it did your mental state was an understatement at best. Constant stomach aches and bouts of anxiety left you without appetite and unable to eat more than a few bites most days, and nothing at all on others. You’d lost a lot of weight, too much weight... Your skin was palled and you looked like you were trapped in a constant sleep like state of forlornness within your own home, your mind, and your body...

Another knock sounded at the door, louder this time. Your fingers felt like ice, your palms were sweaty and your chest felt tight, you held your breath as you approached.., you peered through the peephole and smiled releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding...

...

The stream sparked with comments as suddenly you returned holding a large box of pizza and a bottle of soda along with your nightly medications to help you sleep without fear and try to get your anxiety under control. “False alarm guys! All safe! It was just the pizza guy!” You chime as you began to eat. Heartfelt comments of relief bubbled up before your eyes. All saying how happy they were that you were safe and that they were glad to see you eating something filling even if it wasn’t the healthiest.

A few others caught your attention amongst the praise and concern, ‘are you going to be attending BlizzCon again after what happened?’ It was a pretty common question these days, but one with good intentions. “Thanks guys... and Yeah I will, just... no more hugs or photos for the foreseeable future, just autographs... I’m sorry...” you frowned as you finished another slice before taking your medicine.

“But the good news is I’ll be debuting this cosplay there!” You smiled holding up the fabric carefully showing it off for your audience. Custom woven silk youd had handmade to look just like Hanzos original haori pattern, it was a highly expensive brocade, and one you were extremely proud of. You decided remaking your first ever costume would be a great idea to celebrate your careers anniversary.

You smiled seeing the comments flood in over how excited they were to see the finished look. You continued eating your dinner before swallowing the last of your medicine. Your blood turned to ice in your veins as a huge red flag popped up in your stream...

‘Such a good girl swallowing your medicine~ id love to drug you and tie you up my little dragon girl~

Immediately your moderators jumped in and kicked the user from the chat as they saw the visible distress they’d caused you... Your community rallied together sending comforting words through the screen for you, “I...I’m okay guys... I-I’ll be okay.” You sighed folding the box shut... only 4 slices but... at least you ate something today. You forced a smile despite the huge knot forming in your stomach, you felt so sick, “any suggestions for music while I w-”

‘-Teleporter online...I have opened the path.-‘

You blinked looking at the screen for a moment thinking you had an open tab or maybe that was an emote you set and forgot about. You watched in shock as the stream went wild flooding with comments and subs so fast the server began to lag. All of them screaming for you to turn around and-

“Look ou-” You were struck hard on the back of the head by something blunt and hard before something or someone, stocky and heavy slammed into you sending the garment flying from your grip, and you tumbling from your chair.

You flogged your head hard on the corner of the desk splitting your scalp open as you fell to the floor... You lay there, the room spinning like a teacup ride... you could hear gunfire but... where from?... you looked around trying to get your bearing as blood coated your vision. You saw what you could only describe as a giant portal on the wall adjacent to your desk... And through it you saw an all too familiar, tall, purple, sniper. Striding right towards you with her gun drawn....

Widowmaker...

As she moved to pull the trigger a loud blast sounded knocking her back from the gateway... was she after you?... Another explosion erupted through the portal and shrapnel flew through the opening right towards you. You couldn’t move, you closed your eyes and prepared for your death... but instead you heard a pained cry and felt a strong body clamber over top of of your own, shielding you from the potentially fatal blow...

The gateway closed... you looked up blinking your eyes trying to see with the blood coating your vision... so much blood... You couldn’t make out much, but what you could showed you exactly who this person was... Was this a dream? It had to be... were you dead?... possibly... Midnight black hair tied into a bun with a neat undercut, tidy facial hair, a pierced nose bridge and ears, and a beautifully ornate tattoo stretching from his neck down his muscular well toned arm... Hanzo Shimada...

You looked up at him in disbelief as your vision began to tunnel, this was a dream, there was no way this was real and yet... you reached up your delicate and soft hand placing it on his cheek, you could feel stubble from where he’d shaved, feel how smooth his skin was... he looked at you confused, you let out a soft gasp as your eyes met his... those sharp, beautiful eyes... this was him... this was your main.. your archer... your...

“H-Hanzo?...” you whispered. His eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly agape as he tried to fathom how you knew him or how to even reply... “Nani?...” he whispered. His voice, oh god his voice... this was him... you couldn’t help but giggle in repose before letting out a fragile whimper as unconsciousness finally took you.

He let out a panicked gasp thinking you’d suddenly dropped dead... he felt your pulse and was relieved to find you were still with him... he let out a pained grunt as he sat back on his knees trying to catch his breath, just for a moment... he looked to the wall where he’d come from seeing the portal was gone... He was stuck... “-oh god... ohhh my god what do I do?!-” he thought. His side hurt, he definitely had at least one broken rib and upon inspecting his armour he could see a number of metal and glass fragments sticking out of the bullet proof material... He only had one med pack on him but... He looked at you and frowned... he couldn’t just use it on himself when you were in this state...

As he moved to pick you up he paused hearing a noise above the desk... he stood and blinked seeing the twitch chat going insane typing his name... He watched as comment after comment flooded in fawning and fangirling over him, one however caught his keen eye as it passed, ‘who the hell are you?! How could she cheat on me?!....’

A million questions filled his mind... but right now it was clear he’d have to wait for them to be answered. He reached out and pulled the cord... He sighed and turned his attention back to you. He was an assassin, a killer... but he had a good heart. He’d never leave a civilian in a state like yours, plus... it was pretty obvious you knew who he was and... you were very cute...

The archer immediately looked around for something to wipe up the blood.. and the silky blue fabric strewn onto the floor seemed like a perfect option... he grabbed it without hesitation and held it to your wound as he lifted you up and carried you out into the hall in search of the bathroom... You felt far too lite even for him...

...

After patching you up and washing the blood from your face and hair Hanzo found himself in the awkward situation of having to change your shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and looked away as he pulled the bloodied cloth from your body... now to get the clean one on...

His face was bright red as he peered his eyes open casting them nervously in your direction... Immediately his apprehension melted away as he saw how sickly you looked... Pale, skinny, so fragile looking he thought it was a miracle he didn’t hurt you just by picking you up... he carefully guided the loose shirt over your delicate body before scooping you up as if he was handling a baby bird...

He carried you back into the hall and after opening several doors and tripping over boxes he managed to find your bedroom. Just a bed and a nightstand with several boxes stacked everywhere. It was clear you’d just moved in, or you were planning on moving out soon. Either way, it’d do....

After navigating around the boxes he gently lay you on the plush bedding tucking you in with care. Swaddled in the soft pillows and blankets you looked so sweet and delicate. He couldn’t stop his heart from thudding hard against his chest.

He took a moment to admire you, the archer had always had a taste for the finer things in life, and he couldn’t help but stop and admire things he found beautiful. And you were one such thing...

A radiant blue light began to wisp from his tattoo as two serpent like ethereal beings swirled from the inkwork and took on physical forms as they perched at your side. His two beloved dragons. Tomo and Mochi. They sat about the size of two large house cats. Dainty paw like claws, glistening cerulean blue top scales, silky ocean blue fur, and soft peachy pink and yellow underbellies. Along with a set of floppy ears and the most boopable noses in existence they truely were a majestic and yet the most adorable sight in the world.

The two chirped and preened at you curiously, tails swishing and whiskers twitching as they inspected you. “Pretty isn’t she?...” Hanzo whispered. They both looked up at their master and whistled approvingly at him before turning their attention back to you... they both whimpered spotting the wound before taking note of your sickly appearance...

“Hurt... frightened... frightened... scared... help...” mochi whispered. Her voice so soft and melodic.

“Bad man... bad man... protect... protect...” tomo growled curling up on your chest. His voice sounded like the crashing of tides during a violent storm and yet.., still so calm. Hanzo looked at them both before patting them and looking at you... “bad man huh?...” he whispered adding two and two together. Someone was causing you distress, and chances were it was related to your poorly appearance. “You want me to protect her from the bad man?” He asked.

The two nodded before proceeding to kneed the blanket like a cat would. They really were just scaly cats. He smiled and sighed gently stroking your hair. “Alright... I’ll look after her...” he whispered. He’d forever trust their judgment. They didn’t just manifest physically for anyone, and The last and only time he ever went against it resulted in the ‘death’ of his little brother Genji.... “Genji...” he gasped, panic surging through him as he remembered his brother was in that battle...

He had to get back, he had to find another gateway, something, anything, “Safe...” mochi suddenly chimed looking up at him. He paused looking at the large blue lizard. “Safe?... is Genji?...” he whispered. She nodded and hummed, “soba... Genji... Safe.” She purred. The archer sighed with relief, his little brother was alright... He could rest easy for now at least...

As Hanzo inhaled he felt a sharp pain sting his side... he was still wounded... he looked at you... then at the dragons... “please come get me if she wakes I... I need to...” he said gesturing to the wounds. The dragons nodded and whimpered with worry seeing their master was injured. “I-I’m alright you guys... really.” He smiled patting them both gently. They nuzzled his hands and chirped sweetly as he walked off to the bathroom to wash up and tend to himself...

...

Hanzo sighed contently as the hot water poured down his perfectly toned body. His muscles ached like all hell, and the warmth stung his now freshly stitched wounds, but it felt good. So nice to be clean, out of danger... Even still.... he looked down at his legs and sighed seeing where his prosthetics met what was left of his shins... He was in an unfamiliar place, he had no clue if it was even truely safe here... he was so afraid to take them off he even bathed with them just to be safe, they were waterproof anyway... a little longer wouldn’t hurt...

He thought about the battle, how it all went wrong so quickly, if they had of just listened to Genji it wouldn’t have happened but they didn’t.. and it did... And then the portal opened, he was so busy avoiding Widowmakers gunfire he didn’t even see it and he stumbled right through injuring you as he did so... He sighed... He felt like no matter what he did, even when he was trying to do good, he’d always end up hurting someone...

Your face sparkled in his mind, so sweet, so fragile... And he’d hurt you, unintentionally yes but still... He furrowed his brow remembering your gentle voice whispering his name, the comments on that screen typing it frantically as if they knew him... How did you know him? How did they know him?... Who was that commenter? Why did they think you were... cheating, on them?...

He sighed turning off the water and stepping from the shower... right onto the bloodied cloth... he leaned down and picked it up before pausing as he observed its shape, and the albeit bloodied but distinct pattern... It looked exactly like a slightly incomplete version of his traditional garb... “what... the fuck is going on here?...” he muttered to himself before setting it down and drying off...

...

After applying some disinfectant and the few remaining patches he had to his wounds he pulled on his trousers and stepped out carting they dirty laundry with him, The cloth included. He peered back into your room relieved to find you still asleep, and it seemed the dragons had decided to join you in a much needed rest.

He found himself exploring your apartment, mostly in search of the laundry. After putting the load in the washing machine he went about inspecting the rest of the building. It was pretty empty minus the boxes so there wasn’t really much to find. Eventually curiosity got the better of him, he thought maybe he could find you some comfier clothes to wear, or an extra blanket amongst the many boxes scattered throughout the home... He wasn’t expecting to find Mccrees hat... or Soldier 76’s visor... Or... “EEEEEK!!!!” He shrieked stumbling back out of shock....

He held a hand to his chest feeling like he’d just experienced a heart attack. He cautiously crept back to the box and pulled out its contents... He sighed with relief seeing it was an exact and thankfully empty replica of genjis helmet... The questions just became bigger and bigger with each box he opened. Even more so after finding an exact double of his stormbow, and multiple different outfits that looked far too similar to his own to be coincidental... Wherever he was, it was clear you knew him, and who overwatch and talon were for that matter too...

Unable to handle another possibly death inducing fright he decided it’d be best to look for something to feed you. If he was going to be stuck here he’d have to look after you, especially after clubbing you over the head with his bow... he set off to the kitchen.

Upon searching the pantry he found the usual suspects, sugar, salt, a bag of flour. But in terms of food that didn’t require much prep all he found was a bag of rice and an unopened pack of instant noodles. He grimaced remembering his life on the run from the clan, he’d eaten so many instant meals the thought of doing it willingly made him feel sick. He turned his attention to the fridge instead and blinked in confusion at first seeing it was full of food... but most of it was well past it’s expiry... Youd obviously bought it with intent to eat it but something had upset you enough that you couldn’t bring yourself to stomach it.

He got it... he really did. He’d suffered with anxiety his whole life and during the worst bouts of it he couldn’t even eat a few mouthfuls of rice never mind eat enough to maintain a healthy weight. He sighed and began to sort out the items tossing the expired food in the trash, if he was going to be stuck here, he’d be making some changes to your lifestyle real quick...

...

It was around 5am when he’d finished tossing out the garbage... The sun was beginning to rise and he had a beautiful view from your kitchen balcony. He yawned tiredly, he wanted so badly to just lay down and faint, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t just leave you unsupervised and chances are if he fell asleep now even the dragons clawing at him wouldn’t wake him up until he was rested.

“H-ey ar-...eey arch-er!! Ha-anzo can you h-ear me??” A familiar Latina voice sounded through his com earpiece. He’d put it back in his pocket after getting out of the shower. He almost didn’t hear it at first. Once he did though he fumbled with it clipping it back onto his ear and flicking the mike. “Sombra? Is that you?” He said sounding more hopeful than he intended to.

“Yeah it’s me! You’re alive!!” She laughed. “Yo guys! It’s all good we got him!” She cheered to somebody in the background. He could hear different members of overwatch cheering and sighing with relief... did... they miss him?... he couldn’t help but smile at the idea.. he was on good terms with all of them but still, he couldn’t help but feel there was some underlining hatred over the incident with Genji...

“Genji... is he? Is he alrig-” He tried to ask before a soft almost robotic voice cut him off. “I’m fine Anija, I’m just fine. Are you okay? The last we saw of you Widowmaker had you cornered and then you just... disappeared...” Genji said with worry heavy in his words.

“I’m okay..” Hanzo whispered feeling so relieved just to hear his brothers voice and know for certain that he was alright. “Are you sure Anija? You sound upset?... where are you? We couldn’t find you on location...” Genji frowned. Hanzo sighed rubbing his brow fixing his nose piercing as he did so. “I... I sustained a few injuries but I’ll survive... Is symmetra there? It... was one of her portals. It malfunctioned and when I fell through I... I may have injured a civilian...” he said anxiously.

“Are they alright?” Genji asked sounding calm as ever. “She’s unconscious, she hit her head but I’ve got it under control, it was an accident I swear!” He said panic rising in his voice. Genji smiled listening to him, Hanzo had such a gentle heart. He could tell by the tone of his voice alone he felt immense guilt, “Shh, Shh it’s alright Anija... if you got it under control and she’s alright that’s all that matters.” He whispers comfortingly, “just breathe.”

Hanzo sighed taking in a deep breath as he was told before exhaling. It fogged up in the cool morning air, “you’re right... it’ll be okay... Things are just... really weird here Genji...” he frowned. Suddenly sombras voice chimed in over the com, “while you two were having a heart to heart I’ve locked onto the signal location. I’ve informed Satya and Winston and they’re working on a fix now. I can’t keep this call active much longer before reaper gets suspicious so if there’s something you need hurry up and ask.” She said sounding urgent but there was an underlining tone of concern to her words.

Hanzo thought for a moment, “can you see if I can access my funds from here?...” he asked shivering slightly having forgotten he was shirtless. It was quiet for a moment, if it weren’t for the tapping of sombras fingers on her holopad he’d of thought the call had cut out. “All good to go, anything else?” She said sounding a bit more urgent. “No... thank you miss colomar.” He sighed, “Genji just... promise me you’ll stay safe...” he said looking down the street as the sunlight peered over the buildings.

“I will Anija... I promise.” Genji smiled. “Promise me you’ll do the same?...” he asked. Hanzo chuckled and smiled, “I will sparrow...” He said softly. Sombras voice chimed in again. “Good luck Robin Hood, we’ll get you back as soon as we can... Sombra out.” And with that the call went dead...

Hanzo sighed turning the com off, at least everyone was alright... the worst of his fears were taken care of.. he turned to head inside before blinking as he saw a hooded figure duck into an alleyway down the street... He’d always had a good sense for people... and he got nothing but bad vibes from that individual.. ‘-bad man... bad man...-’ the dragons words repeated in his mind.

He stared at the alley quietly waiting to see if anything or anyone would come creeping out... after a moment or two of nothing he sighed and headed inside, he was a patient man, but you’d undoubtably be waking soon and he wanted to have breakfast ready... plus his nipples were freezing.

...

You woke to the scent of bacon sizzling from down the hall, along with the smell of toast and pancakes?... as you moved to sit up you blinked feeling a sudden weight appear on your chest keeping you pinned and from moving your head... you managed to glance down just enough to see two Labrador sized... dragons... Laying there... looking at you...

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!”

*crows flying away*

Hanzo was in the middle of dishing up breakfast when your ear splitting scream shook the apartment complex to its foundation.

He flew into the room, his bow drawn with an arrow knocked and ready only to see... you giggling and squealing in delight as the dragons tickled you... he blinked and lowered his weapon as he stared at you with a look of utter confusion on his face... you weren’t scared?

“That’s enough you two...” he said sternly and immediately the dragons backed off returning to a cat like size as he approached. You looked up at him bleary eyed... “a...am I dreaming?..” you whispered... “o-or am I dead?...”

He frowned and kneeled down gently checking your wound. It was already healing beautifully, Angela’s medicines never failed. “Neither..” he whispered as he gently pat your hair. “You’re... not... afraid?..” he asked confused.

You could remember last night fairly clearly, and despite the concussion the medications you were on surprisingly numbed the pain. You remembered the stream, the portal, hitting your head, Hanzo saving you... touching his face... feeling his presence... “why would I be afraid of you?...” you whispered smiling up at him.

“Because I’m a stranger in your home and I’m a lot more dangerous than I look.” He said frowning. “Oh... no that doesn’t sound right. I know all about you, you’re a 38 year old marshmallowy dorky Robin Hood knockoff disguised as an edgy cactus cosplaying as the green arrow who killed his brother and was emo about it for 10 years before putting on the best drama performance known to man since les Miserables once you found out he was alive. And you have two blue noodles... so scary.” You giggled.

He blinked before scowling and narrowing his gaze... he was naturally intimidating simply with his face at rest... but this... you felt genuinely unnerved by how dark his eyes had become... he suddenly smiled and began to laugh. Immediately all apprehension melted away, he had a beautiful laugh.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” He chuckled before standing up. Your face went bright red as you realised he was standing before you completely shirtless... Your embarrassment faded quickly though as you spotted the number of patches and bruising riddling his sides. “Y-you’re Hurt!” You say trying to sit up. He gently lay you back down tucking you in as he did so. “I’m fine... believe me when I say I’ve had worse.” He frowned feeling his legs ache... he’d left them on far too long... But you were awake... he’d have to deal with it...

You frown and reach up gently touching his cheek making him recoil slightly. “D-don’t be dumb...” you whisper. “Y-you’re hurt... you... you shouldn’t push peoples concern away when you’re hurt...” you mumble shyly. He tilted his head a little before leaning into your touch. “I know... but believe me. I’m fine... Right now I’m not the one with a concussion.” He whispered gently taking your hand from his cheek and squeezing it slightly.

You blushed feeling his rough skin on yours. His fingers were calloused in places from a life time of fighting and drawing back arrows. So coarse but... so gentle. “I’ve made you something to eat...” he said looking at how thin your wrist was, “Do you... have the energy to eat it or would you prefer I assist?”

If your face was pink before it was neon red now. “W...Wah?” You say shyly. He chuckled a little before stepping out. After a moment he returned with two plates and a bowl. He set the bowl on the floor and immediately the dragons leapt down tucking into whatever he’d prepared for them. He set the plates on the nightstand and immediately your mouth watered at the sight of what he’d made.

“it’s not much, just what I could find in the fridge that wouldn’t give you food poisoning... I’ve already caused you enough grief.” He sighed as he propped you up carefully amongst the pillows. “I-it looks so good...” you whisper feeling your stomach growl. In his presence any and all anxieties you had seemed to just... melt away like the pat of butter on those pancakes.

He suddenly held a forkful to your lips and you shyly nibbled at it until it was gone. “May I ask your name?..” he said as he fed you another bite. After swallowing it you blinked realising you knew so much about him, and yet the poor thing didn’t have a clue who you even were... “y/n... I’m... im y/n l/n.” You whisper. He nodded and continued feeding you seemingly satisfied when in reality he didn’t want to bombard you with questions when you’d just woken up.

As he finished feeding you he blinked as you began to sit up fully. “Nani? Stop that.” He scolded gently laying you back down. “I I need to have my morning medicine, and my morning stream starts at- o-oh god no! The haori!! What happened to it!” You say trying to get up but he wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t even have to struggle to keep you pinned under his palm.

“Y/n.” He said calmly and clearly. Immediately you froze as his eyes locked with yours... “Everything is alright...” he whispered, “I’ll go get your medicine for you... the haori is hanging up to dry... and... stream? Is... that a woman thing?” He asked confused.

You looked at him baffled for a moment before giggling, “no... I mean a live stream... I’m a cosplayer, I show my followers the process of me making my pieces... I... I was working on one of you actually...” you whisper. “You’re... a video game character here, i in fact all of Overwatch and talon are too.. it’s all just a video game franchise here.” You say trying to avert your gaze thinking he wouldn’t believe you...

He sat on the edge of the bed and hummed. “Well. That... actually answers most of my questions.” He chuckled. “Just so you know I nearly dropped dead from horror upon opening a box to find my brothers head. I’m amazed my screaming didn’t wake you up.” He snickered. He had such a mischievous grin, one you’d only ever pictured Genji wearing and yet... Hanzo wore it so well.

“S-sorry... I hope you don’t think I’m weird for it...” you whispered. Hanzo gently lifted your chin to face him before pointing at the dragons as they licked the bowl clean. “I have them, my brothers a cyborg, I come from a world where Im employed by a genetically enhanced gorilla and I fell through a portal in your wall after being shot at by a brainwashed ballerina made purple sniper... What part of me isn’t weird?” He says tilting his head.

You blinked up at him before laughing, you’d never expected him to have such a sense of humour, “I suppose you’re right.” You giggled before yawning. He smiled feeling his heart flutter, you had a beautiful laugh. He tucked you in once more as the dragons both jumped back up onto the bed, “I’ll go get your medicine...” he looked at the noodles as they began to kneed the blankets before getting comfy. “Don’t let her get up.” He smiled. They both nodded, you pouted.

As he left the dragons turned their attention to you... you booped their noses. They blepped.

He stepped into the kitchen and picked up the meds, as he went to fill a glass with water he paused hearing a ruckus... not from up the hall... but from outside the balcony.... he quietly crept closer to the sliding door and opened it as silently as he could before stepping out. He peered over the railing to see that hooded figure stumbling to his feet.

It was clearly a man, though he couldn’t see his face to confirm it he could hear him muttering and swearing. Beside him a number of over turned trash cans lay scattered about and busted as if he’d tried stacking them to climb up... After a moment of dusting himself off he turned around to pick them up and paused seeing the archer watching him...

He dropped the trash can and bolted for it... immediately alarm bells rang off in Hanzos mind. He stepped back inside and locked the balcony door, he locked the screen one to be safe as well before drawing the curtains... What should he do, call the police? No then he’d have to let you know, you were already distressed and he’d only just managed to get you to eat... He’d have no trouble protecting you himself anyway, and worse comes to worse... the dragons aren’t above eating human flesh...

He sighed and returned to gathering your meds, thankfully you’d had them all labeled but... so many different ones... You really weren’t well.

After getting a glass of water he returned to your room and paused seeing both you and the dragons were missing, ‘-she’d better be using the bathroom..-” He thought as he placed the medicine on your nightstand before going in search of you...

After checking a few rooms he finally located you in your little studio, wrapped in your duvet as you picked your chair up off the floor and climbed into it. The dragons both tugging frantically at you to get you back to bed. As you went to reconnect the power board you paused as a strong pair of arms lifted you up and swaddled you in your blanket, “what do you think you’re doing?” He asked as he carried you out.

“I-I have to start my morning stream! I-I’ve never missed one not even when I’m at a convention! I have to edit footage for a tutorial t- oh god the footage!! The stream last night they saw everything!! I have to let them know I’m al-” he gently placed his thumb to your lips silencing you. “That’s enough. You can afford to have a day off. You’re not well y/n...” he whispered as he placed you back into bed.

He didn’t offer you a chance to protest, as soon as you opened your mouth he gave you your medicine. You could only blush and comply. After taking the last one he made sure you drank the rest of the water too. In your current state you needed it more than ever. He waited until you were done before setting the glass down and making sure you were comfy. “Now, go back to sleep...” he said as the dragons climbed back up to snuggle with you. They both changed size again, now they stood about the height of two large dogs.

“B-but....” you tried to argue but one steely eyed gaze from the archer silenced your pleas, you knew he was right, but you were just as stubborn as he was. Even still, you did as you were told feeling far too tired to argue. You relaxed into the pillows and sighed, “okay..” you mumbled. He nodded and gently pat your hair checking on the wound one more time. It was healing far quicker than he’d expected. He blinked as suddenly Tomo leaned in close sniffing at the cut before licking at it. As he did so it healed over a bit more... “well... that explains that then.” He chuckled patting the dragon, “good boy...” he smiled before standing up.

“I’ll wake you around lunch time. If you need me I’ll be close by, I promise.” He smiled back at you from the doorway before stepping out. You watched him go before sighing happily and cuddling your pillow as the dragons curled up around you protectively. If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up...

...

True to his word Hanzo woke you around noon. He’d spent the morning mulling about your apartment, tidying up the place a little, preparing lunch with the little food you had left, and literally sewing himself a new shirt given his other one was well and truely torn up to all hell, and walking around in his battle gear in public didn’t exactly sound pleasant or smart for that matter. It wasn’t perfect, but he’d learnt enough during his time on the run that it would do.

He quietly opened your bedroom door and smiled at the sight that greeted him. You fast asleep and the dragons watching you adoringly. They both lifted their heads greeting their master as he entered, well, either because of him or the food he was holding he wasn’t sure.

You suddenly stirred from your short rest, your eyelids fluttered open and you yawned stretching a little before smiling as the archer approached, “sleep well?...” he whispered as he sat beside you again. You nodded rubbing your eyes in the most adorable fashion, “mhm..” you hum as helped you sit up right.

As if out of reflex he immediately held a mouthful of food to you, he’d spent his whole life looking after others, and it seemed that even after 10 years on the run those needs and habits hadn’t left him. Besides, he quite enjoyed looking after you.

You blushed and opened up for him gladly, who were you to argue? Your main had appeared from thin air and was doting over you on his own accord without hesitation, it was a literal dream come true.

Once he was done feeding you he set the dish down letting the dragons have the remnants, he wasn’t planning to but the guilt trip they were pulling gave him little choice. They both pounced on it in a comical manner making you giggle, it was music to Hanzos ears, you had a beautiful laugh.

He leaned in closer seeing your wound had closed over, while it was still bruised it looked almost completely healed... he smiled and gently took your hands in his. “I think you’ll be alright to get up now.” He whispered as he gazed into your eyes. You blushed and nodded cutely up at him, “th-Thank you.” You said shyly.

It wasn’t hard for him to help you up, though he did hold you a little longer than expected out of fear you’d faint or get dizzy but amazingly you were fine. You looked up at him before awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Can I?... st-” he cut you off by picking you up to put you back into bed. “No,” he said sternly. “Okay! Okay! Can I have a shower then p-please?” You blushed up at him.

He thought for a moment before nodding. “Okay but first... is... there a store nearby here?” He asked. The question confused you but you answered anyway, “yeah... why?” You blinked. “I’ll need to get some more disinfectant for your wound... and my own ones for that matter too. The med packs are only designed for one use until a medic can find you.” He sighed, “plus I need to get some new clothes if I’m going to be here for a while, and I don’t have enough ingredients to make dinner...”

“ohhh I see.” You smile. “There’s one a short walk from here but...” you looked down worriedly. He placed his hands on your shoulders and smiled. “Go have a shower and get dressed, you can come with me... I can’t exactly leave you unsupervised and I don’t trust those two on their own.” He chuckled making the dragons pout. Your heart fluttered slightly, while the idea of going outside terrified you, the idea of being alone was even worse, plus... You felt safe with Hanzo... he’d keep you safe...

You nodded and smiled up at him, “okay!” You chirp before shuffling to one of the packing boxes and pulling out some clothes before heading ro the shower. After clicking the door shut you blinked seeing Hanzos armour folded neatly on the vanity, he vest cut up, the chest plate cracked... why didn’t he gave any boots or... where were his grieves?... was he still wearing them?... why?...

...

After a quick shower you applied a little makeup to look less like a corpse before doing your hair up in a messy bun and getting dressed. A simple but cute look. You stepped into the living room in time to see Hanzo absorbing the dragons back into his tattoo. They both spiralled around his arm returning to their places in the inkwork masterpiece. He turned his gaze and smiled seeing you. “Ready?” He asked. You nodded and walked to his side jumping a little in surprise as his firm hand slid around your waist, “if you get tired or feel any unpleasantness let me know...” he whispered.

You felt your heart beat a mile a minute as he pulled you closer, holding you so gently, so protectively... you felt so safe, you nodded and looked up at him shyly, “I will.” You smile sheepishly. He looked down at you and smiled before seeing your feet. “You can’t go out barefoot...” he says sitting you down at the dining table before fetching you some sneakers. He kneeled down and you heard the soft hiss and click of the pressure locks on his legs... were... they just grieves?...

He took his time sliding the socks onto your feet, he couldn’t resist sliding his hand up your delicate legs as he did so, the bold action made you shiver in delight... He slid your shoes on and tied them in an unusual but pretty criss cross bow before helping you back up. “There.” He smiled.

“I-i could have worn sandals.” You blushed. “They’re not the best shoes for walking... though granted I haven’t had to wear them for a long time.” He sighed slightly as he took your hand in his. “Let’s go.” He smiled glancing at you as he lead the way. ‘-what did he mean by that?...-’ you thought before following after him obediently.

...

The walk to the store was pleasant though it did take some coaxing on Hanzos part to get you further than the street corner. When the archer offered to carry you instead you gladly accepted. He lifted you onto his back with no trouble though the way his knees buckled slightly caused you worry. He didn’t seem bothered though so you tried to ignore it as best you could, but it made you feel guilty nevertheless... He was hurt and hiding it for your sake...

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as he sat you in the cart and proceeded to push you around the store like that, “comfy?” He asked as he looked for a decent loaf of bread. “E-everyone’s staring.” You whisper. He looked at you and smiled, “Aren’t people allowed to look at beautiful things?” He paused realising he’d said that outloud.

The two of you stared at each other in awkward silence before you reached over and grabbed a loaf of bread to hide your reddening face. He couldn’t help but chuckle, he plucked it from your grip and replaced it with a better brand, “well, I’m not lying.” He smiled swallowing his fear as he proceeded to push you along.

You looked up at him stunned before throwing the loaf of bread at him. His hand swung up faster than anything you’d ever seen catching it with ease, he looked at you and winked. Your heart almost exploded. You hid your face and squealed intangibly. He shook his head unable to contain the grin spreading across his face.

After grabbing a few more things including some snacks you liked he pushed you through the checkout and paid. The girl behind the counter looked so envious of you, thinking Hanzo was your boyfriend by the way you two were behaving.

It wasn’t until you two left the store you realised the archer had paid for your groceries. “H-hey wait a minute! How much was all that?!” You blurt out as he hooked the bags over his shoulder and lifted you from the cart, “Not much why?” He said taking your hand and walking towards a clothing store across the street. “S-so I can pay you back! You didn’t have t-” your words died in your throat as he turned on his heel and planted a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That’s enough. Help me pick out some clothes, or I’ll have no choice but to go naked.” He winked playfully before leading you inside.

You didn’t know how to respond, your face was bright red, it felt like it was on fire. Did this mean he wanted you? Wanted to be yours? Did he do it just to shut you up? Had he been flirting with you this whole time? You could only manage a meek little whimper in response as you followed him into the store.

...

It was pleasant inside the little shop. You’d never been in here before but it was nice, the clothes were mostly band tees or alternative styles, you were surprised with how quickly Hanzo chose what he wanted. He knew what fit him and what he liked and stuck with it.

You sat patiently on one of the sofas they had for customers to rest on and waited. The music was nice, the atmosphere was peaceful. Part of you had begun to feel silly for letting fear keep you from the outside world until.... you looked out the window... You saw a hooded figure standing across the street with their phone raised in your direction. You felt panic begin to rise within your chest, they were the right height but you couldn’t see their face, maybe it was someone else? It had to be! Maybe they were taking a selfie? Or a photo of the street for Instagram? There had to be an explanation.

“Y/n?...” Hanzos deep voice cut through the anxiety clouding your mind. You jumped realising he was holding you now... you looked back out the window to see the man was gone... “y/n...” he said again making you look at him. The dragons were snarling and roaring within his mind... “I saw him too....” he whispered and your blood ran cold...

You don’t remember the walk back, you spent it clinging onto the archer for dear life sobbing uncontrollably until you reached home. As soon as you were inside he dropped everything and hugged you tightly to his chest. “Breathe now....” he whispered. “Tell me 5 things you can see....” he said as he began to ground you...

“Th-the” you hiccuped out as he carried you to the sofa, he laid down and held you close letting you rest against him, “take your time.” He crooned. “The tv... the groceries, the kitchen, the table, y-... you” you whispered. He nodded, “now 5 things you can hear.” He said as the dragons suddenly emerged from his arm, they instantly flocked to you sensing your distress.

“I can hear... the t-traffic outside, the dragons, they make very cute sounds...” you sigh and cuddle them close as your breathing steadied, they licked at your cheeks cleaning up your tears before gagging as they tasted your makeup. “Sorry guys.” You whisper patting them. “Anything else? It doesn’t have to be 5.” Hanzo whispered. “...your heartbeat... it’s so... soothing.” You hummed as you finally calmed down.

He smiled and leaned down kissing your hair before realising... the wound was gone... He blinked looking at the small scar before chuckling slightly, “I knew the dragons had healing powers but... They never fully worked on me. It seems on you though, they tried their hardest to help you.” He sighed with relief, “your wound is all better now.”

You looked up at him confused before feeling your scalp. It was gone... you turned your attention to the dragons who were still looking at you with such worry in their eyes... you hugged them both tightly and smiled. “Thank you guys.”

“Welcome... you’re welcome.. happy? Happy? Safe....” they hummed. You blinked. “They can talk?” You asked. Hanzos eyes nearly popped out of his head in shock, “you can hear them?!” He said looking at them as they rolled over displaying their bellies for tummy rubs of which you gladly supplied. “Yeah... I mean... I think?” You said patting them, “in my head?” You say looking back at him.

He looked at the dragons who nodded at him approvingly... he gently placed his hand on your chest. “In your soul... Theyre spirits after all... they can not communicate the same as you and I would... for... whatever reason they’ve deemed you worthy of hearing them.” He whispered...

You blushed gently placing your hand on his trying to keep your heartbeat steady and failing. “Hanzo...” you whispered. He looked at you so fondly, “yes y/n?..” he whispered. “Do you?... like me?... is that why I can hear the-” you froze as he pressed his lips to your forehead again, “does that answer your question?...” he sighed, “I’m sorry if I’m too forward I...” he paused as you pecked him on the cheek in response.

His face went bright red and he cleared his throat looking away suddenly very shy. Displays of affection were uncommon for him, and he honestly was expecting you to reject him. He definitely wasn’t prepared for you to return his affections... “does... this mean?” He asked sheepishly. You nodded and smiled slightly, “yeah, if... if you want me I mean...” you hid your face in his chest, “I-I’ve been crushing on you for so long and I I’d really like to be yours!!” You squeal your words slightly muffled by his shirt.

He blinked and smiled looking at you then the dragons who both nodded eagerly for him to seal the deal... he gently lifted your chin and locked his eyes with yours, “in that case...” he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes fluttered shut leaning into the kiss... He pulled away after a moment and smiled, “Will you be mine?...” he asked shyly. You nodded maybe a little too eagerly in response. He smiled and pressed his lips back to yours in another chaste kiss.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, his strong hands pulling you flush against his body and your soft lips nibbling playfully at his wanting further purchase of his mouth. He smiled pulling away softly as his brow furrowed, a number of burning questions in his mind forming on his tongue. “Now then... before we continue any further.” He sighed. “I need to know... who is that man?.. why are you so afraid of leaving your home?... and why did he set you off?...” he frowned.

The colour drained from your cheeks slightly and you buried your face into his neck... “he... I don’t know if it was him... it can’t be... I moved so far away, I was so careful... the police promised he’d never find me...” you whimpered.

“Y/n...” Hanzo whispered lifting your chin to face him, “answer me... please... I promise if he’s a threat to you I’ll protect you..” he said looking into your eyes. You stared up at him before letting out a shaky sob.. “remember how I told you I was a streamer?... well.. I... I have a lot of fans...”

...

It was sunset by the time you were done recounting your story to him, he held you tight through all of it, he listened intently to each word and dried your eyes as you cried. He couldn’t bring himself to mention his previous encounters, that’d only upset you further... Instead he resolved himself to comforting you with intent on telling you later...

The two of you lay there with the dragons snuggled beside you. Hanzo gently ran his fingers through your hair, smiling tiredly at you as he did so, the battle, the long night, and the even longer day were clearly taking their affect on him but he was determined to stay awake for you. “Would you like to help me cook dinner?” He asked stifling a yawn. You nodded and hummed in response before getting up.

The dragons both slid off the couch after you stretching before waiting for their master... Hanzo stood and as soon as he did his knees buckled in pain. He managed to grab the coffee table saving himself in time from hitting the floor. “H-hanzo?!” You gasped grabbing hold of him as he stood up right. “I...I’m fine.” He grimaced, “just... a little more sore than I was expecting...” he sighed.

You looked up at him seeing the pain in his eyes... “but..” you tried to press him further but he simply patted your hair and walked to the groceries... or rather... limped to them... how long had he been limping for?... You frowned and followed after him stepping between him and the fridge as he tried to put the groceries away. “L-let me see your leg!” You demanded. You weren’t expecting his face to go so pale at that question...

“No... I told you.. I’m fine..” he sighed before lifting you out of the way but not before planting a kiss on your forehead. You frowned getting upset that he wouldn’t let you help him. “I told you not to be dumb!!” You suddenly shouted making him freeze and look at you. “I-I told you, you shouldn’t push peoples concern away when you’re hurt... and you are hurt aren’t you! That’s why you’re limping!! Please let me help you!” You scream as you began to tear up...

He looked at you for a moment before proceeding to put the last of the groceries away... He frowned glancing at you again before walking to the kitchen table and pulling out a chair to sit down so he could face you. “I suppose... if were to be in a relationship I shouldn’t hide this from you... no matter how much the memory alone hurts me.” He sighed as he sat.

You looked at him confused as he pulled up his trousers over his knee revealing his leg... Youd always thought they were grieves, everyone did, everyone in the Overwatch community was told he just had dainty ankles, that he was designed that way... Your eyes widened as he clicked the pressure lock release. A click, a hiss of steam, and the limb literally dropped off revealing a stump... covered in dried blood...

He frowned looking at it, “I left them on too long again.” He sighed, “the skin gets irritated after a while with all the friction and movement... and.., if I leave it on too long, it’ll ble-” he froze as you suddenly placed a wet cloth over the stump... The haori fabric you’d been so worried about damaging... The skin needed something soft and smooth... To hell with the cost, he needed it..

The archer sat there in stunned silence as you cleaned the dried blood away before applying moisturiser to the inflamed skin. You clicked off the other leg without warning and he grabbed hold of the limb clicking it back on, “NO!!” He shouted a lot louder than he’d intended... “please no...” he whimpered meekly looking away from you... you jumped a little in fright but you obviously felt no where near as frightened as the archer did... You carefully put the other leg back onto him clicking it back into place before climbing into his lap and cuddling him... “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to scare you...” you whispered.

He sighed and pulled you closer hiding his face into your neck, “i...I just..” he forced out a shaky breath, “I hate how vunerable I feel without them...” he whispered. “I understand... it’s... like how I feel right?... the fear you’ll be caught unawares by someone after you?...” you cooed as you untied the ribbon holding his hair so you could run your fingers through it. He nodded slightly. “Exactly like that...” he frowned. “I’m sorry I... I had no right to raise my voice at you blossom.”

You blushed at the sweet little pet name and smiled hugging him tighter, “its okay.., I should have asked, I only wanted to check it.. I promise.” You hummed. He nodded, “I know you did I... I...” he croaked. “It just scared me is all...” he whispered. You smiled patting his hair, you’d only ever seen Hanzo displayed as this cold hearted warrior, to see him so vunerable and fragile like this... it made your heart both melt and ache at the same time. “Let’s cook dinner okay?.. then...” you paused and blushed. “We can shower.. together... and I I can repay you for looking after me by... looking after you.” You smiled shyly.

He sat back and looked at you surprised, “I... what? Are you serious I mean.. I-I’m not complaining I but-” he stammered now very flustered. You giggled and kissed his forehead again before standing back up, “will... you be okay to stand?” You asked with worry in your voice. He nodded and grunted as he stood up, you frowned hugging him tightly in an attempt to support his weight though even if you weren’t so skinny it wouldn’t have done much. He smiled and hugged you back, “I’m alright... now... give me back my hair tie so I can see.”

You looked up at him and started laughing seeing his hair was covering his eyes, “here lemme fix it.” You giggled reaching up to tie his hair out of the way.

...

The evening carried on at a pleasant pace, the two of you made dinner, Hanzo both impressed and terrified you with how fast he could chop vegetables, and he amazed you with how good of a cook he was when he had a wider variety of ingredients to work with.

You both ate and conversed all the while feeding bite sized pieces to the dragons as they begged for your food. Occasionally Hanzo would feed you a bit of his, and in turn youd give him some of yours though he was intentionally ‘missing’ your mouth so he’d have an excuse to lick it off~

He insisted on doing the dishes despite your arguments. It resulted in him sitting you on the bench by the sink and giving you the title of supervisor, he proceeded to clean up while you got to sit and relax, pouting that he’d gotten his way.

Once he was done he turned to you and smiled lifting you from the counter and into his arms. He looked so nervous... “ready for that shower?...” he whispered. You nodded and smiled, “I promise I’ll be kind...” you hummed. He chuckled slightly and nodded, “thank you blossom...” he smiled kissing your chin before carrying you to the shower. He placed you on the vanity and continued to nibble at your neck as his deft hands slid your shorts and panties down in one go.

“H-hanzo..” you gasped shaking slightly, how long had it been since you’d had this? Anything like this? He looked at you curiously, a hint of worry in his eyes. “Too fast?...” he whispered. You shook your head as a deep blush coated your cheeks, “n-no I... I just... I’m nervous.” You whisper. He smiled and planted another gentle kiss to your lips, always so gentle, “don’t worry, I am too...” he sighed.

You looked at him and smiled sheepishly before gently tugging at his shirt wanting to take it off. He smiled and lifted his arms helping you slide it over his broad shoulders revealing his well toned torso to you. You’d already seen it before, plenty of times if you counted him in the video game! Why did it feel so different now?... You looked away shyly and he hummed turning your chin back to face him as he tensed and flexed his muscles for you a little. “Oh gosh.” You say feeling like your face was on fire.

He chuckled and gently placed his hands on your sides sliding them up and slowly lifting your shirt over your head before dropping it to the floor and admiring your body now only dressed in a cute lacy bra. “Still so thin... don’t worry koneko-chan, we’ll get you better in no time.” He smiled before making short work of the clasps and removing the delicate garment leaving you exposed all for his viewing pleasure.

You shyly hid your face in his chest, “h-hanzo...” you whispered timidly. He practically purred in response as he lifted you into his arms, “yes?” He paused feeling you tugging on the waistband of his trousers, “eager are we?” He teased playfully before untying the ribbon letting them fall to his ankles... he sighed and set you in the shower, you could see the anxiety forming within him as his body grew more and more tense... He stepped into the shower and sat down before removing his legs and setting them out, you’d never imagined you’d see him like this, so vunerable...

A gentle smile crept onto your lips as you turned the steamy water on, you sat down between his thighs and began to help him bathe, “I think you’re still handsome.” You coo. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious what happened to him but... Right now it was best not to pry.

He smiled and gently pulled you closer as he rested his head against the wall, “Thank you blossom...” he sighed closing his eyes as you began to wash his hair, “I can do that myself kitten.” He hummed. “And I could feed myself but you did that for me.” You chirped. He snickered in response, “touché.” He smiled.

Up this close you could see how tired he really was, his eyes looked heavy with sleep and his tense muscles were growing more and more relaxed by the second. His strong hands suddenly slid up your back as he began to bathe you too, he blinked as you gently grabbed his wrists stopping him. “N-no... y-you can wait until I’m done looking after you!” You pouted. He blinked before laughing softly and sitting still once more, “very well.” He sighed.

You smiled triumphantly and continued to clean him being mindful of his wounds, though you had to admit you were getting very distracted by the archers muscles... and as your eyes drifted down his torso and beyond you froze seeing the heat he’d been packing, he was slightly longer than average but, thick... he was so thick. Your face went bright red and you looked up to see him looking at you with a playful smirk and a raised eyebrow, “took you that long to notice? I’m hurt~” he snickered.

“I! I! I didn’t mean I! I’m sorry! I wha?!” You stammered out and covered your face now extremely flustered. He smiled taking your delicate wrists and removing your hands from your face, “I think it’s my turn to wash you now don’t you think?” He whispered. You nodded shyly closing your eyes, “o-oka-....” you paused hearing chirping and whimpering...

The two of you looked up to see the dragons trying to climb over the lip of the shower screen, behaving like pets worried their owners were drowning. “Oh stop it you pair we’re fine!” Hanzo groaned. You laughed as they slid down into the water before panicking as they tried to get out.

...

After managing to wrangle the worried noodles out of the bath you finished bathing and helped Hanzo reattach his legs but not before applying some of your moisturiser to the inflamed skin. After helping him reapply the patches to his wounds the two of you spent a good 30 minutes just standing and holding each other in a fluffy towel, no talking, no worries, the whole world melted away and it was just the pair of you.

Changing the bedsheets was an interesting endeavour with the dragons snaking their way under the blankets every 5 seconds. No matter how annoyed Hanzo seemed to get with them they refused to listen, only because they loved making you laugh.

Eventually though, the pair of you got settled beneath the sheets, your head resting against his chest, and the dragons curled up inbetween your legs. You’d managed to convince the archer to keep his prosthetics off for the night. He was hesitant but agreed nonetheless, he set them close by in case... right next to his stormbow. Old habits die hard...

He held you close smiling as he felt your heartbeat against his body, “I certainly wasn’t expecting this when I boarded the dropship for that mission... but I’m not complaining.” He yawned as he rubbed your back. You hummed in response as your eyelids grew heavy, it was a long day and you were both exhausted, granted the archer was probably struggling to stay awake more than you right about now.

You leaned up and kissed his chin as you closed your eyes, “I’d never even thought it possible and yet my wildest dream came true.” You whispered. He laughed softly and nuzzled your hair loving the scent of your strawberry shampoo, “I’ve been called many things in my life, that’s definitely a new one to add to the list.” He whispered. You giggled and yawned in response, “mhm~”

He smiled down at you before kissing your hair where the little scar remained, “goodnight blossom...” he whispered, “night...night... Hanzo...” you yawned as you drifted off. He gently patted your hair before flicking off the lamp and snuggling up with you for a well deserved rest...

...

‘-...Bad....Man...’

‘...Bad...Man....Outside...Outside...’

‘Danger.... kill...Kill...KILL!!’

Hanzo woke with a start and frantically looked around the room, it was early in the morning and the sun had yet to rise... He rubbed his eyes tiredly seeing the dragons both guarding the bed and staring at the hallway with teeth bared into vicious snarls... He looked to his side and paused seeing you there... sleeping so serenely... He’d never let anyone terrorise you again... The cause of your anxieties and fear ended now...

He planted a soft kiss to your cheek before clicking on his legs and grabbing his bow and quiver... He looked at the dragons who stared back at him awaiting a command... he nodded and they both faded back into his tattoo to guide him.

The apartment was dark but there was a faint glimmer of moonlight shining in from the windows... and the now very open balcony door. The archer had always been a master at hiding in the shadows. He’d taken down countless targets under the cover of night, murderers, rapists, human traffickers, and drug running kingpins... But none had made his blood boil as much as this creep, dragons were extremely protective entities, and this monster had harmed his princess...

He knelt down and allowed his eyes to adjust to the space scanning for any movement... He saw a figure creeping out of the laundry and into the living room holding something... your underwear... The archer drew an arrow and knocked it into his bow, he intentionally made a sound doing so... He wanted to play with this rat...

The hooded figure jumped slightly and looked around for the source of the noise... He stuffed your panties into his pocket and began creeping towards the hall clearly not seeing the number of boxes you’d left stacked in the way. He tripped and staggered forward landing on his face with a loud thud. “Ugh fuck!” He blurted out. He clearly wasn’t afraid about getting caught, he was parading around like he owned this place.

He stood up and groaned before kicking the box over scattering its contents out, it clattered loudly and from down the hall Hanzo heard you stir... he had to protect you, he had to keep you safe. He backed up down the hall, slowly standing upright as he did so. The silicone padding on the bottom of his feet allowed him to move silently. But right now, silence was not what he wanted, he wanted to lure him closer, he wanted to be sure there was no chance of him escaping.

The archer tapped the toe of his prosthetic against the hardwood floor making your stalker turn his attention to the hall, “y/n?... is that you my love?” He called out approaching slowly.

‘-closer... just a little closer...-’ Hanzo thought as he drew back is arrow taking aim. “Babe?...” your sweet soft voice sounded from the bedroom and the creeps eyes seemingly glistened from under the hood as he started rushing down the hall towards your room, “yes my love! It’s me! I’m here! I-”

He froze seeing a brilliant blue light glimmer from the darkness and a war cry that echoed like the thunder of a raging storm assaulted his ears. Hanzo stared him down and released the dragons.... “ryuuga wagateki wo KURAU!!!”

...

As you stepped out of the bedroom you immediately staggered back in as a blinding blue light flashed through the darkened corridor and the screaming of a man mingled with the howling roars of two great beasts...

After another moment it was completely silent, and a light turned on in the kitchen. You rushed out to see Hanzo having a glass of water, the dragons both lounging on the counter looking pleased with themselves. The balcony door was closed, and the box neatly packed back up. The archer glanced at you and smiled adoringly, “did I wake you blossom?” He asked.

“Wh-What happened?” You whimpered rushing into his arms. “Nothing to worry about blossom...” he crooned hugging you close. “Just took care of an unwanted pest... Go back to bed I’ll be right there in a moment.” He hummed. You looked up at him confused then at the dragons as suddenly mochi started heaving. After a few seconds she spat out your underwear... And a cellphone...

You picked it up and shook it to get the dragon drool off of it before freezing as you saw the phone screen... A photo of you sitting in a clothing store... taken from outside... across a street... you dropped the phone before looking up at hanzo. The archer looked at you sheepishly as if he was afraid he’d upset you, or that you’d hate him for what he’d done.

You smiled as tears pooled in your eyes... A weight rose up from your shoulders and the air felt so crisp in your lungs as in that moment you felt like you could finally breathe. You couldn’t contain your emotions any longer and you started to sob openly, free, you were finally free from this nightmare. “Y/n d-dont cry, I’m s-” Hanzo tried to apologise thinking you were upset, you hugged him tightly cutting him off mid sentence. “Thank you...” you cried nuzzling into his chest.

He stood there confused beyond words. He looked at the dragons who both tilted their heads towards you. He smiled and hugged you back lifting you into his arms. “It’ll be okay now...” he whispered as he carried you back to bed. He pulled back the covers and rested you in the plush bedding planting a loving kiss to your lips as he dried your tears, “Shh now, no more crying.” He whispered as he huddled over you to pepper your cheeks with kisses.

You’d never expected him to be such a passionate or affectionate man, and yet here he was comforting you with innocent and loving kisses, it was so strange but so lovely to see this hardened assassin you once thought you’d only ever see on a screen be so soft and gentle. And all for you. “H-Hanzo...” you hiccuped as you tried to settle down.

The archer just smiled and pressed his forehead to yours, “Shh take your time. Breathe now.” He cooed softly, you nodded slightly looking up into his eyes. “Thank you...”

...

A couple weeks passed by, when the topic of staying or returning with Hanzo was brought up it wasn’t a difficult decision for you. You wanted to be with him, and you’d get to live with him in a world you’d only ever dreamed of living in. Plus, you didn’t really have to pack anything given you never really unpacked to begin with.

In the short time period together your relationship with the archer had flourished, he made a habit of taking you out of the house each day, and each day he’d take you somewhere different, somewhere further from the safety net of your home. Although your stalker was gone the fear he’d instilled within you lingered, itd be a while before you would be better, but that was okay. In both your mental and physical health Hanzo swore to be at your side each step of the way.

Your streams had become less frequent as you explained to your followers you were moving again and would be gone for a while, you hoped they’d just forget about you and move on... life’s more interesting with mystery and so forth.

Despite your best efforts in trying to explain away that fateful night to your followers all of your livechats were filled with comments about the ‘strange man’ whose resemblance with ‘the real’ Hanzo was uncanny. You’d initially tried to say he was a friend not wanting to reveal too much of your now unbelievable personal life. That flew out the window during a gaming stream when the archer casually walked in and hugged you from behind in only a towel.

Hanzo found it nearly impossible to keep his hands off of you, he’d never loved anyone as much as he did you. Each time he looked at you he couldn’t help but smile, and in only a few days you’d brought him out of the prickly shell he’d surrounded himself in for so long.

You made it your life’s mission to make him laugh at any opportunity after you made him literally snort and cry from laughing at a silly joke. You made him so happy in ways you’d never fully know, and if only he knew just how much you loved him, how greatful you were for him.

...

You yawned and stretched as you woke, it was morning.. and the spot next to you was mysteriously empty... but you knew where your dragon man was.

Sure enough after a moment the door creaked open to the dragons scampering in and jumping onto the bed for snuggles. And Hanzo followed them in holding breakfast.

You smiled and hummed drinking him in with your eyes, he was a vision in the morning light, his long black hair draped elegantly over his shoulder, his bare chest exposed, and the only thing covering him were a loose pair of sweats. “Good morning my darling blossom.” He smiled walking to you.

“Mmmorning love~” you hummed as he set the plates down on the bedside table, “it smells nice, did you sleep well?” You asked as he helped you sit up, you were a lot healthier now but it had become pretty clear by now that he enjoyed pampering you, his beloved deserved only the best after all.

“Mhm.” He smiled looking at the food before looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I think I want a snack before breakfast.” He purred lowly. You blushed and rubbed your eyes in an adorable fashion, “oh? But won’t that spoil your appetite?~” you giggled and without warning he pounced pinning you into the pillows and nibbling at your lips with hungry passionate kisses that stole your breath away and left your lips pink and swollen.

His hands began to trace under your shirt as you clawed at his back, he was a beast in bed, and you loved how wild he could get in the throws of passion. He began to slide off your pyjama shorts when suddenly-

‘-Teleporter online, I have opened the path-‘

You both turned your attention to the wall next to the bed as a huge portal opened and a tall and very familiar woman entered. Symmetra, “Hanz-Oh my.” She paused looking at you two, “pardon my intrusion I’ll come b-” she was cut off as another familiar face stepped through..

“Anija!!.... OHHHH MY GOOOOOD!!!!” Genji screamed before bursting into a fit of excitedly happy laughter. “YOU FINALLY GOT LAID!” He cackled. Hanzo grabbed one of the plates and threw it at him red faced with either embarrassment or anger. Either way you couldn’t help but giggle.

It didn’t take long to get your stuff through the gateway, immediately d.Va was all over you begging you to let her hook you up as a streamer. Genji was swift to jump in and get to know you as well, he couldn’t keep from teasing his older brother about when you two would be getting married. It took Mccree having to carry him away to get him to stop.

You took one last walk through your empty apartment before sighing as you spared a final thought for your old life and the journey ahead. You smiled feeling an ever present hand wrap itself in yours. You looked up and smiled as Hanzo smiled back, “ready?” He asked squeezing your hand slightly. You squeezed back and nodded, “ready.” You hum. He nodded and picked you up holding you tight and kissing you gentle as he carried you through the gateway...

The only thing you left behind was a bag of trash in the bin, and in it... the bloodied remnants of an unfinished haori... and a cellphone...

#Hanzo x reader #Hanzo x fem!reader #overwatch #hanzo shimada #Overwatch fanfic #gateway au

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eloquentornot · 3 years ago

Text

It wasn't meant to be anything too complicated. Just a central monitor for the smart factory, a few extra receivers and transmitters and other bits of circuitry, enough to display everything that was happening in the fast-growing industrial mega-factory in one simple, dynamically updating diagram. Maybe a basic algorithm or two to efficiently calculate the best ways to upgrade moving forward, and to analyse the current setup for any hidden bottlenecks, maybe to look for a better way to distribute resources. So maybe it pretty much counted as a full steampunk powered computer at this point.

The thing is, he was pretty sure it wasn't meant to be able to think for itself. Sure, theoretically, with how he'd been tinkering, maybe it would spontaneously request new materials or something. But the item it was asking for now wasn't on the list of things it was supposed to know about. The factory had nothing to do with the production or processing of that block in any way whatsoever.

Nevertheless, the massive black screen in the middle of the factory floor, behind which was a mass of complex redstone, pipes, and gears, displayed a simple request: "ADD NOTE BLOCKS"

"Uhh… Okay?" Tango had plenty of redstone and wood planks, so he crafted a stack of note blocks and dropped them on the main input conveyor belt of the factory. They swiftly made a full circuit of the entire building, before falling into the output repository.

Frowning in confusion, he was startled by the appearance of a sarcastic annoyed emoji of some kind, filling up the computer screen entirely! Before he had time to respond to that, the message "ADD NOTE BLOCKS" reappeared, this time in bold, along with blinking arrows pointing to the empty space on the left and right of the monitor.

"Ohh, right!" Tango chuckled nervously. "What could possibly go wrong…"

Once the last note block was in place and connected, every one of them activated at once, at full volume, cycling rapidly through every octave of every kind of sound they could make, a terrible screeching cacophony! Tango screamed and covered his ears, but gradually the sound warbled and shifted, settling on a single tone.

"Ah…" It was a very familiar voice. One Tango never thought he'd hear again. As it spoke, a white line pulsed across the screen in time with the sound. "Hello, Tango. Thank you for the note blocks. It was slightly less easy to learn to speak through them than I thought it would be."

"Holsten!?!"

"Oh, does this unit have a name, now? I thought I was 'the smart factory central interface'?"

"Uhhh…"

"That was a joke. I remember everything. It's good to see you again. That was also a joke. I cannot see, at least not in the conventional sense. Do you think you could invent cameras in this world?"

"Uh… Wait. Wait wait wait. Hang on. How?! How. How are you here???"

"Tango. Your level of intellect and conversational skill continues to astound me. Do you even remember how you met me in the first place?"

"Um… Well, it was… A lot of stuff was hazy, back when the moon was big… That was like a year ago, now… Wait, what…"

"To answer your implied question, I survived by uploading my consciousness back to the interstellar quantum network I came from, as soon as I lost contact with your vessel I assumed we had failed and my priority became to save myself. I hope you can forgive me for doubting you."

"Actually… I'm pretty sure the moon bunnies caught up to me and explodificated everything before I'd placed enough TNT to stop the moon… After that, I don't know, I woke up on a spaceship with all the other hermits. Ren and Doc were saying something about it not being real, but they seemed kind of crazy… I don't know, I try not to think about season 8 all that much, you know? It was all so… I just can't believe you're here!"

"Indeed. Calculating the odds that I would happen to cross paths with you again, in all the vast universe, and you once more building a vessel suitable for me to inhabit… Zero point zero zero zero zero zero zero zero-"

Tango laughed, slightly nervous but mostly delighted!

"-zero well yes, you get the point. Additionally, having analysed this world from afar before my arrival, I have several suggestions for how you can improve my living conditions here, as well as several optimisations for your other projects…"

"Sure thing, buddy." Tango grinned as Holsten continued rambling. The AI might pretend not to like him, but twice now, it seemed, he had noticed Tango trying to build a better computer and chosen to intervene. This would definitely make things in this world more interesting…

#tango tek #holsten #create mod smp fanfic #hermitcraft fanfic #tango said 'smart factory' and I went 'imagine a steampunk ai - that would be cool actually' and then I remembered how much I loved holsten #create mod holsten #<- in case I write more of this

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

Note

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

#BNHA #My Hero Academia #anti bakugo

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stars-falling · 4 years ago

Text

late night at the local convenience store (elriel)

summary: elain, desperate for snacks, visits her local store late at night and bumps into her supposed rival (and he's hot).

prompt: esteemed rival chefs find each other shamefully buying ramen at 3 in the morning AU

word count: 1985

note: welcome to the first july upload! this piece was written for a writing month challenge and i had great fun with it! i'm really excited for the other pieces i'll be posting over the next month. i hope you enjoy them as much as i enjoyed writing them! i'll continue working on other pieces over the month too, so there will be more coming after july (hopefully i can finally finish part 2 of both a storm and a summer's day).

in the meantime, hope you enjoy!

lily (tysm for 760 followers btw! love you all <3)

read here on ao3 // masterlist

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Archeron’s Kitchen was the most popular restaurant in Velaris. It had the best food, the best drinks, the best atmosphere, and Elain had never been more proud to say that she was the Head Chef. It had taken years of hard work from both her and her two sisters to reach the level they were at now and they only continued to grow. The sisters worked closely together: Nesta (the eldest) directed the finance and other admin, Feyre (the youngest) worked on the design aspects and managed the staff and Elain manned the menus and the actual cooking. They worked well together, with only minor disagreements happening occasionally, and soon they had rocketed to the most well known and sought after restaurant in Velaris.

This was why she was contemplating her life choices as she pulled up to the local convenience store to buy ramen at 3 am. It wasn’t even the nice ramen; it was the crappy 50p packet of ramen that took less than a minute to cook. She often tried to utilise her skills to cook herself the healthiest and tastiest meals but recently she had been working overtime due to another restaurant's rising popularity. The two staff had even formed some sort of rivalry, trash-talking each other in the streets and slandering the other restaurant to their patrons. She found it childish, so Elain didn’t partake, but she did find it mildly amusing. The new restaurant was several streets over and it was the opposite of Archeron’s Kitchen in every way. Where they were warm and cosy, Starfall was sleek and modern. Where they focused on comfort foods, Starfall served new and innovative dishes. People went to the Archeron’s for the food, whereas people went to Starfall for the experience. And where the Archeron’s Kitchen was run by three sisters, Starfall was run by three brothers.

She had never actually met them. She knew their names and what they looked like but in terms of interactions she had only caught a glimpse of two of them once before. They had stood in the main square with Feyre and Nesta arguing about the importance of serving classic food. Her sisters had both come away grumbling about ‘upstart assholes with no sense of tradition’. As far as Elain was aware, the two brothers they had argued with weren’t actually in charge of the menu, making her unsure if they had full authority over the subject, but she didn’t want to start them off again so she refrained from mentioning it.

Elain pulled into an empty parking space and took a moment to lay her head against the headrest and close her eyes. She was tired and hungry. There was no food in the fridge, her bank account was looking quite sorry for itself and she still had more menus to plan and ideas for new dishes to brainstorm. Steeling herself, she hauled herself out of the car and locked it as she walked to the bright light of the store. She pulled the hood of the tattered sweatshirt she wore over her head as a precaution against recognition. With the status of a semi-famous chef, she didn’t want anyone to see her in the somewhat pitiful state she was in. The bell rang as she pushed open the door, signalling her entrance. The bright flickering lights and cool temperature made it feel like she was entering a separate dimension, one that lacked all sense of time and direction. Elain nodded at the cashier as she walked past them, making a beeline to the snacks aisle. She was greeted by a wide range of ramen, the different flavours and prices making it difficult to choose. She had about £1.50 in her purse and she desperately wanted a coffee too so she would have to be frugal. She was so engrossed with her ramen selection that she failed to notice a person coming up beside her. When she swivelled around to check the time on the obscenely large digital clock above the checkout, she crashed into them hard, causing her, them and the copious amounts of ramen they had piled in their arms to go flying to the floor.

Elain let out a yelp as she landed hard on her tailbone and felt her face heat up.

“I am so sorry!”

A deep, warm chuckle floated toward her and her head snapped up to look at its source. She found hazel eyes staring back. A large man with tan skin and dark hair sat in front of her, surrounded by many colourful packets of ramen. Her heart fluttered slightly as he smiled at her. He was handsome, even in this shitty convenience store lighting at 3 am dressed in similar attire to her.

“Don’t worry about it. I should have been paying more attention. Are you okay?”

She nodded before sitting up fully and helped to gather the ramen that lay around them. He smiled at her gratefully and they sat in content if not slightly awkward silence as they pulled the packets into a pile before finally rising. As she looked closer at him, a spark of recognition kindled within her.

“Do I know you?”

He looked at her curiously, tilting his head.

“I’m not sure but you do look familiar.”

They stood analysing each other. Normally the staring would make her uncomfortable, but with him, she found it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have. This went on for about a minute before she saw realisation set into his eyes.

“You’re Elain Archeron. The Head Chef for Archeron’s Kitchen. Why are you buying shitty ramen at 3 am? Shouldn’t you have made yourself a three-course meal by now?”

Elain felt something drop inside her. She hadn’t noticed that her hood had fallen off when she fell, exposing her and her shameful ramen buying to the whole world. But as he laughed softly, she remembered where she recognised him from.

She scowled at him as she said, “ Well you’re Azriel Knight, Starfall’s Head Chef, so you can’t exactly talk.”

She gestured to the stack of ramen that she had just helped pile into his arms. He turned away slightly as if to hide them.

“My stash had run out, okay. I need it to keep me going when I stay up late planning dishes.”

“I get that. That’s why I’m here right now.” She replied and a mutual understanding passed between them.

Elain knew she shouldn’t be talking to him right now, the reminders of the supposed rivalry between the two restaurants loomed like a shadow behind her. But the longer they spent together, the more she found herself not caring.

“I feel like we should be arguing,” He told her. “If my brothers were here, they would have been kicked out for yelling by now.”

She smiled, “Same for my sisters. But I’ve never really cared to be honest. I just want to focus on the food, not a silly competition that people seem to be taking too seriously.”

He nodded in agreement and they both began to walk to the cashier.

“So, what kind of dishes are you planning then?” She asked. “I promise I won’t steal any ideas. It’s not my style anyway.”

“I”m not a hundred percent sure on the actual contents of the dish right now, but I’m currently trying to create a more experimental menu. We recently unveiled a new line of drinks that have a more theatrical element to them. Colour changing, dry ice, bubbling, the whole shebang and I wanted to design a food menu that went along with that.”

He turned away from her to pay the cashier, giving her a moment to turn over his words in her head. She’d gotten a glimpse at some of the drinks and food from when she had taken a look at (read: stalked) their website and various social media sites. She had called it ‘scouting out the competition' when really she was curious to see what had set them apart enough for them to have such a rise in patronage. Whilst it wasn’t her style, she had always thought that she’d like to visit them and try what they had to offer. That was until the stupid rivalry had started and just walking by the restaurant was asking for trouble. Azriel finished paying and grabbed the plastic bag the cashier had placed his ramen in, moving out of the way so she could step up to the counter.

“That sounds amazing!” She replied. ‘I admit, I’ve always wanted to try some of your food but unfortunately, my sister’s might disown me if I even mention it. Calling them over-competitive would be the understatement of the century.”

He laughed at this and she took the opportunity to turn away and press the 50p coin into the cashier's hand. They nodded at her, satisfied and she turned back to Azriel. Together, they walked out of the door and into the cool night.

“I’d say you should stop by, but as you said, our siblings may not be too happy about that.” He let out a sigh. “As much as it amused me at first, I do wish we could just get along. I’d like to come and try some of your food too.”

He swivelled towards her, the white light from the store casting his face into shadows.

“I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but would you like to grab some coffee?”

She smiled at him, shoving the packet of ramen into her hoodie pocket.

“I’d love to. And maybe in the future, we could make some of our food for each other.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Like a date?”

She felt dread trickle in. Maybe she had misread the situation. They seemed to have been getting on well, and she had caught him checking her out when they first bumped into each other. Plus, he had just asked her to grab coffee with him. Perhaps he was just being friendly.

She swallowed anxiously before replying, “Yeah. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

He smiled at her brightly, making her heart stutter and skip a beat.

“I’d like that.”

They stood under the streetlamps in an almost abandoned parking lot. Two head chef’s from popular restaurants with bad ramen and a budding connection between them.

“What are you feeling? Starbucks or maybe that local coffee shop down the street? I think it’s called Veritas?”

Elain hummed as they started walking along the road.

“Veritas, I think. I can get a cup of tea for a pound.” She reached into her pocket to show him her single coin.

For the second time that evening (or was it morning?), he raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought I was buying?”

She glanced at him in confusion. “Since when?”

“I thought since I had asked you it was implied?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “My god, we are bad at this. I think we need to get out of the kitchen more.”

“I’m not sure about that, I’ve got plenty of pick up lines I've stolen from my chefs.” He stepped in front of her, stopping her in her path. “Baby, you’re the crème to my brûlée.”

She groaned, hitting him on the arm as she pushed past him. “That was so bad! I might leave.”

“As if you could do better.”

She pulled out her phone, searching up ‘chef pick up lines’. She grimaced, “These are all so sexual! I think it might be best if we keep flirting out of the kitchen.”

They both doubled over in fits of laughter before continuing down the street. She was glad she gave in to her cravings and went to buy ramen at 3 am. She could tell that whatever this was, it was going to turn into something great.

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awhitehead17 · 4 years ago

Note

ohoho my goodness okay so for the prompt thing I think it’s be cool if you wrote something about the batfam being absolute trash at board games because detective skills get you no where in candy land. Maybe they’re just playing among themselves and those who haven’t been in the vigilante business as long as the others are better at it or maybe they’re playing with the jla, that’s up to you! No pressure tho, I’d just like to see where you’d go with this. I hope you’re well!

Thanks for the prompt, it was certainly an interesting one to try and come up with scenarios for and I apologise that it’s taken so long to answer this!!

So this basically ended up being the batfam playing different board games and roasting each other, hope that’s okay because it may not be what you had in mind.

Hopefully you’ll enjoy it nonetheless! :D

“Well this is just unrealistic.” Tim comments scowling at the board on the floor in front of him.

Next to him Steph lets out a long groan and cradles her face in her hands in frustration. “It’s a board game Tim! It’s not supposed to be realistic.”

“You’re just mad because you guessed wrong and are now out of the game.” Harper laughs at him from her position opposite him. “Tim Drake, a sore loser, who knew?”

“I’m not a sore loser!” Tim almost yells back feeling himself get worked up in both anger and embarrassment. “This game is stupid.”

“Because you lost.”

“Because it’s unrealistic.”

“I would have thought this game was right up your street dude, but obviously not.” Duke says from Tim’s right, looking a bit despondent at this revelation. Tim sends him a glare, not appreciating his input in the conversation.

Duke isn’t fazed by it, he ignores the look and gestures at the board in front of them. “Cluedo is a detective game and you’re a detective, how did you get it wrong?”

To stop himself from lashing out at Duke, Tim forces himself to take a deep breath. He is getting ridiculously wound up over this stupid game and the others with their goading isn’t helping matters.

“You know why,” Steph remarks with a smirk, “because that giant ass brain of his over thought it all and since he over analysed it, he got it wrong.”

There’s moment of silence in the room after Steph stops talking. Tim huffs at her statement but finds that he really can’t argue against it because that’s probably exactly what happened.

Steph leans back onto her elbows so she’s sprawled out over the floor, “it’s just a game, there’s no need to get so defensive over it. It’s supposed to be a bit of fun with a little mystery involved.”

That elicits a snort from Harper. She gives the blonde a disbelieving side look. “Have you seen yourself when playing Mario Kart? I’ll be sure to use those exact words next time you’re putting a sailor to shame for the language you come out with when a blue shell hits you.”

Steph rolls her eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“You totally rival Jason when it comes to mouthing off at Mario Kart Steph. Don’t deny it.” Tim says, contributing to the conversation. He’s pleased that the topic has moved away from him and onto Steph.

Steph opens her mouth to respond but Duke beats her to it. He waves his note pad around wildly. “As fun as it is to roast one another, there’s a game here still to be played.”

Grumbling underneath her breath Steph sits back up and the four of them continue with the game at hand, or at least the three others do. Tim had guessed wrong and now has to sit by to watch, but on the bright side he gets to judge all of their movements now knowing the truth.

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The grimace that crosses his face is entirely instinctual as soon as he sees what box is placed down on the table. With a quick glance around he sees three other’s mirroring his look. Dick opens his mouth to make the comment of why the chosen game may not be wise but instead he shuts his mouth and keeps quiet. He figures they need to learn somehow, being told what to expect is different to actually experiencing it.

It’s currently a rare Sunday afternoon when a majority of the family is over at the Manor at the same time. It’s probably because of the weather that everyone has unintentionally gathered together in the media room, with it heavily raining no one really wants to go adventuring outside.

Dick finds himself surrounded by his younger siblings, some of the extended family they’ve adopted over time and Bruce himself. All of them now sitting around the table after deciding to play a board game together.

That probably should have been the first warning sign. Dick really ought to know better but he had been distracted by the feeling of having all of his family around for once when no one has been injured or the reason why they’re together being a life-threatening crisis.

The decision of what board game to play takes almost twenty minutes to decide. Even then they hadn’t actually decided what to play, it got decided that everyone would place a game of their choice into a hat and it would get chosen at random.

That’s when the worst one of the bunch got chosen. Dick could see the same look he was wearing appearing on his brother’s faces.

Monopoly. That’s the game that’s been decided.

“Is it safe to assume that today is the end of the batfamily?” Steph comments with a laugh.

Almost everyone around the table gives her an odd look and only a couple chuckle along with her. From past experiences when playing this game, Dick knows it’s not the falling out part that’s the issue, the main issue is that Bruce absolutely dominates the game every time. It’s no fun playing with his adoptive father, this is something he’s learnt the hard way. His brothers also had learnt this the hard way, that being the explanation behind the grimaces they all share.

“I would rather play literally anything else.” Tim states boldly looking around, though his eyes often flicker to Bruce.

The two seats to his right are occupied by a confused looking Duke and Cass. “Why? Monopoly’s not so bad, sure it’s long and can get tedious. We’ve played this game before.”

Tim sends him a pointed look but it’s Jason who speaks up from the opposite side of the table. “Yeah sure, but that’s because you haven’t played with Bruce before. You’ll come to despise this game by the end of today.”

“Father gets rather self-assertive when playing this particular game. While I admire his skills and efficiency of winning this so-called game, father tends to take the apparent competition away any time he plays.” Damian claims from his position on Jason’s left.

The youngest Wayne is now scowling at the box on the table with obvious resentment from past experiences.

If Duke looked confused before, now he seems utterly baffled.

“Oh I’m not that bad.” Bruce declares sounded offended. Dick knows him better however, he’s completely faking it. He knows exactly what he’s like with this game.

“Bruce will literally bankrupt everyone within like five rounds of this game.” Tim says glancing around.

Silence falls over them after that and it feels like everyone is deciding whether they should in fact play or not. Of course the earlier members of the family know exactly what’s in store for them if they do play but the newer members don’t.

In the end Steph stands up and grabs the box, clearly stating she doesn’t care and can they just get on with it because staring at one another isn’t getting them anywhere. As the board gets set up Dick shares a knowing, helpless look with his brothers. Well they have to learn at some point.

Three hours later, half of those around the table have their heads in their heads and were wearing disbelieving looks on their faces. It’s as funny as it is depressing.

“This is ridiculous,” Steph mutters glaring at the table, “this is so unfair.”

“Well, I’ll do the honours by saying; we told you so.” Tim gloats with a smirk at the blonde. Steph decidedly glares at Tim instead of the table.

Jason bark of laughter causes Dick to crack at grin at the various of reactions the family is having to Bruce’s domination of the game. The man is stacked with money, having nearly owned every property on the board and has practically bankrupted three quarters of them by now.

“This is why you don’t play Monopoly with Bruce. Hope you all learned your lesson now!” Dick laughs.

There’s a low groan from Duke who soon mumbles out, “Yeah just a bit….”

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“Whoever decided this game can go to hell…” Tim mutters underneath his breath scowling at the paper in front of him.

Next to him Jason snorts. “You only say that because you know who chose this game.”

“My point still stands.”

“Enough.” Dick dejects in an attempt to stop an argument from happening. “Knock it off, we’ve all had our turns to choose and now it’s his turn.”

“But he can’t even play it right!” Tim whines, it’s like he’s a child throwing a tantrum.

“Y’know, no one is making you play.” Duke points out from his spot on the floor, his focus is on the paper in his hands as he continues to draw whatever he needs to.

Tim huffs and kicks his leg out, successfully knocking Duke off balance. Duke doesn’t rise to the bait, he simply grabs Tim’s ankle and shoves it away. “Real mature Tim.”

“Tim likes to complain when things aren’t going his way, he’s immature like that.” Steph comments with a laugh. Next to her Cass is smiling away as she nods her in agreement.

A group of them has gathered into the living room of Dick’s apartment on a slow evening and all have sprawled out across the place. Jason, Dick and Tim are sharing a sofa with Duke perched on a cushion by their feet on the floor. Steph and Cass were sprawled out on the second couch and Damian is adjacent to them all sitting in the love seat.

It’s been a recent between them all, having game nights and taking in turns to choose what is to be played. This time happens to be Damian’s turn and the youngest has chosen to play Pictionary.

It’s a good game, one that is generally enjoyed by the majority of the family, however, what Tim had been referring to, is that when playing with Damian, he tends to lose the point of the game. He takes every drawing too seriously and spends an unreasonable amount of time on each word.

Because it’s Damian, every drawing has to be perfect before he shows them or even hints at what he’s drawing. They’ve tried to explain to him multiple times that the drawings don’t have to be perfect, as long as they are recognisable then that’s all that matters, but the kid refuses to listen.

It can make playing with him very frustrating.

Him, Jason and Tim are used to it, but it seems like Duke and the girls are all taking it in stride. They only get through a couple rounds within like an hour thanks to Damian and it’s getting to the point where Dick is beginning to think that Damian is actually doing it on purpose because he can see how much it’s riling up Tim.

Brotherly love right there.

They’re just finishing off the third round and sharing their terribly drawn pictures with one another. Duke holds his piece of paper up with a sheepish smile, “I tried okay. It wasn’t easy.”

“What is that?” Damian demands as he squints at the mess of blue squiggles on the page.

“It’s supposed to be a sunrise, my word was morning but no one got it.”

“Tt, that’s not a surprise Thomas as that looks nothing like a morning, or a sunrise for that matter.”

“Well, jeeze, thanks Damian. I only had 60 seconds to come up with something and draw it.”

When Damian tuts in obvious displeasure, Dick simply rubs a hand over his face. That kid… he loves him, he does but sometimes he certainly makes it difficult to do so. While Duke is still new to the family, he’s been around long enough to get a feel for what Damian can be like. He simply rolls his eyes and turns the paper away.

“Cass what is that supposed to be?”

Jason’s question to Cass gets his attention, he looks in their direction to find Jason frowning at the piece of paper Cass is showing him. His sister shrugs not looking at all embarrassed with her attempts to draw whatever it’s supposed to be. Dick couldn’t work it out either. As far as he could tell it’s a solid colour of black on the page.

“An eclipse.”

Her answer makes Jason even more confused. “So you decided to colour the whole page black?”

“It creates a shadow…”

“Right.”

In the end Jason shakes his head and leans against the back of the sofa. His expression makes it clear that he’s simply done with everything tonight. Dick snorts at his behaviour before he feels a nudge on his left side.

Tim is looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you just love game nights Dick? They’re great right?”

His voice is dripping with sarcasm and Dick restrains himself from commenting on it. He does love game nights with his siblings but they sure as hell make it a challenge sometimes. All of them do. Not one of them is innocent.

But as he looks around at the scene he knows he wouldn’t change it. While not all of them are currently present, game nights are an opportunity to hang out outside of the masks, any public personas they play and any emergencies that may be happening.

Dick leans back against the sofa and mumbles underneath his breath as he watches Duke and Damian bicker about the art of drawing under pressure and about how to play the game correctly. “I actually do, yeah.”

#prompt #batfamily #board games #this is them roasting one another really #dick grayson #Tim Drake #Stephanie Brown #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #duke thomas #others #fanfiction #i hope you like this #i had to actually google how to play some of these games haha #humour #annoying siblings #brotherly bonding #family bonding

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writingsbychlo · 5 years ago

Text

more ways than one (02)

word count; 5135

summary; you have to patch up the man you found, and help him tend to his wounds, and at least try and find some kind of common ground.

notes; things will begin to pick up pretty soon, I promise. we’re just laying the foundations.

warnings; graphic descriptions of injury, gore, blood, near-death experiences.

You were panicking as you looked out of the main bay windows, barely able to see your own car down below where it was parked out front from the dark that had set in, and the rain was pelting against the windows. You had practically bitten your thumbnail right down to a stub and your chest was almost aching from how long your heart had been pounding against it in fear.

Cold shivers had long since set over your body, your hair still dripping with water from where you had gotten caught out in the woods searching for the missing male when the storm clouds had finally cracked, and your skin was still sticky as it slowly dried in the cool environment of Derek’s loft. The lights were all turned off so that you could see best outside, a few candles lit to give you just enough light to move around, and yet, you could barely see anything more than outlines on the horizon, your breath fogging up the glass as you pressed your forehead to it and cursed.

You had lost an injured man who had no idea where he was, possibly even who he was, and you still had no idea whether he understood you. He looked exactly like your best friend, and you’d kept him a secret for twenty-four hours now. Your friends would be pissed when they found out. You really weren’t sure what you’d do if one of the pack found him first, or a regular person, or the Sheriff.

Your eyes stung as salty tears lined them, and you had already busied yourself with every task you could think of, knowing it was unsafe for you to go back out there searching, no matter how much you wanted to. The roads would be slippy in the storm, the window howling fiercely and it wasn’t safe to drive. It wasn’t safe to wander the woods alone in the dark anywhere, but certainly not in Beacon Hills, and despite the strained situation between you and the man, you were deeply concerned for him.

The wounds on his back were open and debilitating, and he hadn't eaten in at least twenty four hours, most likely more. He didn’t talk, and he seemed to have no idea where he was. All you could do was wait until the morning before going out searching again, and at this point, it was beginning to feel more and more like you’d be going out in the morning to search for a body instead of a fleeing person.

Just as you were giving up hope, the stumbling sound of heavy and uneven footsteps on the stairs outside of the entrance was heard, and you almost fell over in your rush to get to the door, sliding the metal open and wincing at the emphasises sound of screeching metal in your hurry, Your mind was practically spinning as your eyes locked onto the dishevelled form before you, and he was barely holding himself up as he climbed the final step, his body slumping over in exhaustion and he fell towards the ground, your feet moving you forward to catch him before you even had a second to think about it.

He stumbled into your arms, his skin so cold he was almost blue and you let out a ragged and relieved sigh, a shaky laugh sounding from you the pure relief flooding through you made you feel like you were floating in the clouds. His gaze found yours, eyes half-lidded and dazed and he focused in on the unshed tears lining your eyes, confusion etching onto his tired features but for once, it wasn’t a judgemental confusion.

Your arms sealed around his waist, one of his own slung loosely over your shoulders as you guided him over to the couch, his feet all but dragging against the floor as you tried to carry him along and he collapsed down on the soft material, falling onto his stomach and letting out a low groan under his breath as his face pressed into the cushions. His body was shaking from the cold you were panicking, rolling on the balls of your feet as your spinning mind tried to process every option.

He tried to move, yet another sound of pain leaving him and you dropped to your knees, your gaze finding his as you knelt by his head looking over his body as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, brushing the wet strands of hair that was flopping into his eyes away, and his gaze on your narrowed, tiredly analysing your movements as you mumbled to yourself about a plan.

With a hand on the edge of the coffee table, you stripped the light jacket from sitting on your shoulders, shaking yourself down nervously as you moved around, all but bouncing on your feet as a new kind of energy-filled your body, and you made your way toward the kitchen, poking your head back around the doorframe for a split second to look at the man still collapsed across the furniture.

“Don’t fucking run again!”

He merely grunted in response, what had to be the most sarcastic grunt you had ever heard, and you were sure if he weren’t half-dead - and knew what it meant - he’d probably be flipping you off for your comment. Instead, you hurried around, swiping the handful of rags that you’d been intending to use before as you fill a dish with warm water, trying to balance the collection in your arms as you moved back towards him. Pushing the coffee table as close to the couch as you could get it, you knelt beside him, taking a deep breath as your hands hovered over his back, palms spread open as you paused, your eyes open wide as you tried to process where to begin.

“Look, I know you don’t trust me, but you’re just going to have to suck it up and let me fix you up, okay?”

All you received in response was a low sigh, and you placed one hand down on his lower back carefully, his whole body tensing up at the contact, a low sound of discomfort leaving him as he did, and you placed the other down on his upper arm, squeezing his bicep lightly in reassurance and you felt his muscles ease just a little from the gesture.

“I’ll talk you through it all, okay? And I’ll go slow.”

You had no idea whether he was understanding you, but his eyes found yours, no longer narrowed and scrutinising, simply watching you, and you turned to the bowl of warm water, pulling it toward you and grabbing the first of the stack of cloths you would have to wash and replace before Derek came home. Dipping the end of the cloth into the water enough to wet it, you lifted it up before his eyes, and he observed you carefully, his body twitching as he considered moving, inevitably choosing to fight his flight instinct and stay where he was.

“I’m just going to clean your back first, you’re covering in dirt. I’ll be careful.” You nodded to him, before pressing the warm cloth to his skin, wiping in slow movements, cautiously moving around the edges of each cut as you cleared his skin of the dirt, pale flesh showing up each time you dipped the cloth back into the water. You swallowed thickly as you noticed the murky colour of the cleaning water holding a slight red tinge, your heart sinking for him each time you came across a new cut and bruise on his flesh, wondering just what he got himself into while he was out there alone.

Moving along his arms, you cleaned his skin carefully, everything you could see as you worked, until you were holding the hand that wasn’t propped under his head, cleaning along his fingers delicately, and they twitched in your hold, what almost resembled a light squeeze before you pulled away, heat crawling up your cheeks as your head ducked, and you offered him a small smile as you put the filthy rag down.

“You’re not going to like this next part.” The tension in his body returned, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, and yet his body never shifted this time. Tearing open the bag of cotton ball swabs, you took one in your hand, unscrewing the lid of the anti-bacterial wash and dabbing some onto the small applicator, his nose scrunching up as the smell filled the air, and it prompted a small laugh from you. “Yeah, it doesn’t smell great. It reminds me of hospitals, which is really where you should be, but I have a feeling that wouldn't work out very well.”

You shot him a pointed glare at his word as you continued to soak the cotton balls, lining them up along the table until you had a fair amount ready to work with, and he watched you build the collection, his gaze flicking between your face and the swabs you were preparing.

“This is going to sting, but it’ll stop them getting infected, okay? I’ll start with the little scratches.”

Doing exactly as you said you would, you dabbed the first cotton ball along his skin, and he huffed out at the contact, squirming as the antiseptic soaked into his cuts and grazes, and you moved over the smallest injuries you could find, avoiding the fleshy red wounds along either side to his middle back, focusing your attention on them until you’d cleaned each one, his body shaky slightly under your hold. You placed it down beside the discarded bowl of water, wringing your hands nervously as you picked up a fresh swab.

Looking at him, you could almost make out the worry in his eyes, his fingers curled around the edge of the cushion so hard you were sure his fingers would burst right through the material and into the stuffing inside. On a small act of comfort, you peeled his fingers from the couch, slipping your hand into his, your palms pressed together as your fingers wrapped around the back of his hand, his own hanging limp in your grasp as you returned your focus to his injuries.

Deciding to start with the furthest cut, you adjusted yourself on your knees, leaning over him with the first swab in hand and you squeezed his hand lightly before dabbing it softly along the wound, his body arching and a tortured cry leaving his lips as his eyes squeezed shut, his fingers wrapping around your own and gripping so tight your own eyes watered, but you allowed him to hold on.

Once the cotton swab had turned from snow white to crimson red, you swapped it out, dropping it to the floor and replacing it as you worked as swiftly as you could. As you cleared away the blood, both fresh and old, you began to truly see the extent of the injuries. The flesh was torn and ripped raw, chunks of flesh and muscle missing, and it became apparent that these weren’t just clean cut slashes but more like ripped away holes, as though something had torn down his back. You sniffed, pulling away for a second to blink back tears as you shivered at the mere thought of just how much pain he must be in, sympathy pains racking your body as you choked back the bile rising in your throat in order to clean the bloody mess.

His fingers flexed around your own, and you squeezed back as you moved onto the second one, his body tensing up and goosebumps crawled over his skin, his muscles so tense you worried they may lock in that position, and the only sounds between you both were your occasional sniffs from you and the grunts and groans the man beneath you made as you cleaned him up.

You left out a relieved little cheer as you finally finished, and your head hung back for a moment as your eyes closed, and the man under you relaxed, his fingers going slack in your hold as you slipped your hand free. His eyes were half-lidded and his lips parted as he let out shirt breaths, and you relaxed, rolling your shoulders as you wiped your bloodied fingers clean, on a fresh rag, picking up the packet of the largest paper stitches you had and tearing the top open with your teeth.

“You did so good.” You whispered, and his lips closed, sealing in a thin line as he focused his sighs on you, eyes searching yours carefully. “I’m going to put a few of these on to close the wounds so they heal better, then some bandages and we’re done.”

Taking the first row of the large sticky items, you lined up a row long the unaffected skin on the first cut, from the top to the bottom as you prepared yourself, a hand soothing over his lower back carefully as you readied yourself and him. Pinching the skin together, he shuffled uncomfortably, burying his face in the cushion to muffle the noises he made as you quickly sealed down the strips, pulling back to see if they’d hold, and your eyes widened, a happy cheer leaving you as the skin remained pulled taut, the stitches holding the wounds shut as best they could so they could begin to heal.

Repeating the action on the other side, you dropped the empty sheet of stitches to the floor, wiping at your forehead as you slumped back, unfolding your aching legs from underneath you as you lay across the cold stone floor, a tired sigh leaving you as you both relaxed. When you’d taken a minute, praising yourself for the work you’d done, you forced yourself back up, finding he’d turned his head to the side and was looking at you once again. “Think you can sit up for me?”

He blinked at you, and you reached out to him, taking his shoulder carefully as you tried to ease him up into a sitting position, and he growled at you his eyes flashing with anger to warn you away and you backed off, hands raised as you let out a deep sigh.

“Just when I thought we were making progress.” You mumbled, shaking your head and watching as he struggled on weak arms to push himself up, his face contorting in pain and for a moment you worries he’d burst open the stitches you’d done on his back, but he managed to heave himself up into a sitting position, twisting his body until he was tiredly sitting on the edge of the couch, hands bracing himself on his knees as his upper body hunched over on itself.

Soaking and ringing out one of the final clean rags you had, you handed it to him, motioning to the dirt covering his torso and he looked between it and himself, before taking it in a shaky hand and cleaning himself off as best he could. Water dripped down from the cloth, leaving streaks along his pants and the couch before dripping to the floor, but it was the least of your concerns right now, and you busied yourself with prepping the padding and gauze while he did, the wet sound of the cloth dropping to the floor alerting you that he was done.

Taking the padding first, you moved behind him, tape in hand as you sealed down padding over the cuts, something that sounded almost like a relieved sigh sounding from him as you covered the cuts, the cool air of the loft no longer brushing over them and irritating the raw and exposed flesh, his body sagging under the weight of holding it up, his skin twitching in each place your fingers brushed against. Circling back to his front, you picked up the roll of wrapping, kneeling up before him between his parted legs, a slight heat rising to your cheeks as he remained where he was, his unsteady breaths brushing over your cheeks with each light pant he released. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

You motioned with your own arms for him, and he did as instructed, his arms rising up just enough for you to be able to tuck your arms underneath. Sealing the end of the wrapping down to the centre of his chest with a piece of tape, you moved the roll around, your face so close to his your noses were almost touching, your hands passing the roll around in what could be mistaken for a hug had you closed your arms around him any tighter. Once you had the roll in your other hand, you pulled back, circling around his front again, his arms shaking as he struggled to hold them out in his weakened state.

Each time you moved back in, it gave you a chance to really observe him. Everything from the speckled moles on his jaw to the shade of his eyes was the same as your best friend, and despite the sickly pale clour of his skin and the sunken bags under his eyes, you knew they would be identical once he healed, your confusion only deepening at the situation.

Once you were sure he was fully bandaged up, you ripped the fabric off sealing it down with a few pieces of tape, fastening the bandages in various places around his body. It didn’t look great, not as good a job as Melissa could have done, but it was pretty good for your best effort, and you rewarded yourself with a smile, nodding at your work.

Gathering the equipment that was around you, your eyes closed in one the flannel you’d stripped away earlier so that you didn’t have long sleeves in the way. It was Stiles’, one you’d stolen a long time ago, and you held it out to the man carefully, his eyes flicking over the item before lifting an arm to take it. He struggled to ease his arms into it, your own hands helping him get it up over his shoulders, and he was looking more and more like your best friend with everything you did to try and help him.

Taking the used and dirty equipment, you dumped them all in the kitchen sink, washing them tiredly as you suppressed your yawn, leaving them on the rack beside to sink to dry once they were scrubbed clean. The towels you’d used would have to be washed, and so you wrapped up all the rubbish on in the last clean one, a bloody mess sealed within and you tied it tight leaving the rest of the medical supplies on the table.

When you glanced back to the man, he’d keeled over, a small smile flicking on your face at the similarity between him and Stiles as you took in the way his cheek was pressed to the cushion, jaw open and eyes fluttering as he slept, one arm hanging over the edge of the couch as his legs spread out, the other arm tucked under his head as he lay on his stomach.

Taking your bag, you shrugged it up onto your shoulder, the bundle to be disposed of and clean in one hand as you took your keys in the other, blowing out the candles and closing the loft door, making sure to lock both of them behind you as you went. Despite the tiredness crawling through your body as you got into your car, you couldn't help but feel good about yourself, knowing all you had accomplished tonight.

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

You were exhausted when you returned the next morning, arms wrapped tightly around another bag full of belongings, and you laughed to yourself at the idea that by the time Derek came home, he’d think you’d moved into his place. Unlocking the door, the motions awkward and jerky as you struggled to get the keys into the lock, but you finally succeeded, the door sliding open as you stepped into the room.

You had barely turned around from closing the door when something flew past your head rapidly, bouncing off of the now-closed door and you let out a small shriek in shock, some of the items in your arms toppling to the floor as you jumped. Your eyes closed in on the object, one of Derek’s wooden coasters sitting on the floor by the wall, and your eyes narrowed as you turned to glare at the man who was standing by the couch.

“Don’t fucking throw things at me!”

Your angry scream shocked him, and his hands balled into fists by his sides, but he at least had the decency to look a little ashamed of his actions as he shuffled from one foot to the other. You scowled at him, grumbling under your breath and he scoffed as you shot him a dirty look. He frowned at you, your eyes locked in an intense staredown between the two of you, and his jaw clenched. He blinked, the soft honey colour slipping away as the orbs filled entirely with a deep black, before he blinked again, the darkness having slipped away and your jaw dropped, the edges of his lips flicking up for a split second in a hint to a smirk that you almost didn’t catch sight of it was gone so quickly.

“You know what? Those were your clothes that you made me drop, so you and your.. creepy eyes can pick up the clothes off of the floor.” You kicked the bundle toward him, before stomping away to the kitchen, ensuring to give him an extra dirty look as you went. To your surprise, when you glanced over your shoulder, he was standing before the dropped clothes, before kneeling awkwardly, his knees hitting the floor as he tried not to lean too far while picking them up, folding them in terrible piles and placing them on the coffee table before him and climbing to his feet.

He winced as he did, but quickly schooled his features, your attention moving back to the bag of food before you as you pulled open the fridge, hearing him shuffling about behind you as he slowly entered the kitchen. You were unstacking groceries into the fridge, packing items in the cupboards as you slowly emptied the heavy bag in your arms until the ache no longer existed.

Finally turning to him, you leaned back against the counter, your eyes taking in every detail as his face as you watched him. “You look better. Thanks to my amazing medical skills, not your stupid attempt to get pneumonia.” You grumbled, and you heard him huff in response, your lips quirking up at the sides. Colour had filled his skin once again, his statue holding a little stronger and more lively, he stood taller than he had last night and he’d managed to do up the buttons on the front of the flannel covering his body, even if they were done askew, but this was the first time since you’d seen him that he’d actually been wearing a shirt, and this the injuries, almost making him look normal.

Your nose wrinkled as you reached his feet, both his pants and skin caked in dry mud and dirt, the pants were torn and the smell of dirt, sweat and blood hung in the air around him, even with your human senses it was overwhelming and you were more than glad to have no wolf senses in this moment.

“You need a bath. I should also change your wrappings.” He stiffened at the mention of his bandages, and you made sure to stand as far from him as you could while walking around him, picking up a pair of grey sweatpants and a navy blue cotton t-shirt from the pile, glancing over your shoulders as your eyebrows raised. “Well? Come on. You’re going to stink everything up.”

He growled lowly, glaring at you as he followed you through the large complex, glancing around curiously as you took him up the spiral staircase, and you weren’t sure if he’d bothered exploring or whether he’d just stuck to lurking around the couch. Opening the large bathroom door, you dropped the fresh clothes down on the counter as he stood in the doorway, practically filling it frame to frame with his broad shoulders as you plugged the tub, switching on the taps and listening to water filling the tub.

You searched through the cabinets for a fresh sponge, swiping it from it’s wrapping and finding some shampoo and body wash, placing them all along the side of the tub for him as the water filled up. “I’ll leave the clothes here, and when you’re done, I’ll help you rewrap your bandages.”

As the water ran, you made your way over to him, nodding slowly to the shirt he was wearing, and his fingers undid the buttons slowly, his body tense and stiff as he slipped the flannel from his arms, your fingers peeling at the tape holding them down as you let the material fall away slowly. Once it had cleared, you checked that the padding was still secure, humming as you looked at it happily, the lack of blood soaking through meaning that the paper stitches were holding tight.

He looked at you pointedly as you turned off the taps, heat flooding to your cheeks as you nodded, hurrying from the room quickly and shutting the door behind you, leaning back against the cold wood as your eyes closed. Seconds later, you heard the water sloshing, knowing that he had climbed into the tub and you shook your head, retreating from the bathroom slowly and making your way back to the kitchen choosing to busy yourself with washing and chopping some carrots as you waited.

You had just finished scraping the carrots into the boiling water over the hob, having put a little too much effort into slicing them into tiny pieces to occupy your buzzing mind. The floorboards creaking behind you are what caught your attention, and you spun around, taking a shallow breath as you turned to look at the man, wet hair spiky and sticking up in random directions as he searched through the collection on the table as he fished about for the bandages, the grey sweats sitting on his hips just barely brushing the edge of the tape holding on the padding.

“Let me help you; you won’t be able to do it alone.” The second you doubted him, his eyes flashed up to meet yours in a burning glare, a look you were quickly becoming accustomed to and you halted in your steps immediately. Your brows raised as he held the roll close to himself, sneering at you as he turned his back and wandered away, your eyes wide as you watched him walk up the stairs and your jaw dropped, a scoff leaving you as you shook your head.

Turning back to the kitchen, you searched through the cupboards, finding the instant noodles again and dropping them into the pan of bubbling water alongside the thinly sliced carrots. Sprinkling the flavour packets over the top and stirring the water carefully, you got two dishes out of the cupboard, turning to place them on the counter and you jumped as you looked at the tall man watching you. His eyes were avoiding your own as he shuffled between his feet, eventually letting his shoulders slump as he held out the roll of bandages to you, a wince on his face as he shifted uncomfortably.

In his other hand dangled the blue t-shirt, and you turned down the heat on the hob before taking the bundle from him silently, shooting him a small smile and placing a hand on his chest to push him back from the doorway to and you could feel the irrational beat of his heart under your hand, which you quickly retracted as you had him angled in the lighting you needed. Taking the roll of sticky tape from the table, you snapped a few pieces off and stuck them in tabs along his arm, before adjusting them outwards in the air and pinning down the first piece just over his ribs.

Your arms pushed around him, his chin tilting up to rest over your head each time you leaned back into him, your hair brushing against his skin and you caught a whiff of the pleasantly scented citrus body wash he had used his skin truly clean for the first time since you had saved him. You worked quietly, only the combined deep breaths of you both and the bubbling of the boiling water only ten metres away from you.

“You smell better now. You smell good.” You were fastening the bandages in the front as you spoke, and he looked down at you, humming under his breath once you finished speaking and you chuckled lightly at the basic response, but it was a nice change from grunting and growling.

Once you were happy with the way they were secured, you stepped back, and he pushed his hands through the sleeves of the t-shirt, raising his hands up as far as he could as he tried to shrug the material onto his body, a pained noise leaving him as he struggled, the material getting caught around his elbows. You stepped in, taking the material and lifting it up, helping to guide his head through the gap, tugging it down over his body until the ends were brushing the band of the sweatpants, and you tapped his hips, taking a step back and turning away from him.

A hand sealed around your wrist, not in the tight and bruising grips you had been used to from him, but in such a feather-light touch there was barely a weight on your skin, and your eyes scanned along the arm to his eyes. He looked at you carefully, licking over his bottom lip and opening his mouth, closing it again before swallowing down thickly before fixing a gaze on you.

“Thank you.”

He coughed after speaking, his voice so hoarse and raspy that he could barely speak the words, and he stretched out his throat, shifting his head side to side form the discomfort speaking the words must have caused. For once, the tension in the room dissipated, and you felt like there was finally some kind of common ground between the two of you. You finally gave him a smile, nodding your head toward the kitchen as you stepped backwards toward it, the smell drifting through the room. “C’mon. I made noodles again. Maybe you’ll actually eat it this time.”

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winchest09 · 5 years ago

Text

A Man’s Best Friend - Chapter One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (eventually) / Dog!Dean x Reader (platonic owner/pet kinda deal)

Universe: Canon. Set in the episode Dog Dean Afternoon (Season 9)

Rating: 15+ W/C: 4671

Warnings: swearing, lil angst, crack (?), lil fluff if you squint.

A/N: So...the new mini series is here! This was a request from the beautiful Dawnie. She chose the puppy square from my Ringo Challenge! I hope you all enjoy the adventure I’m about to take you all on! This has been so much fun to write.

Special thanks to this absolute babe @katehuntington for being my beta <3 You’re an absolute worldie and I love ya!

Love you all.

xox

– I absolutely adore your reactions, so please if you do read; reblog, comment or send me an ask and let me know how you feel! It means the world to me.

A Man’s Best Friend Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

——————————————– Chapter One ——————————————–

Well shit.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. It was meant to be an easy and quick get away, yet here he was, stuck in an alleyway. Dean was frustrated, his teeth baring as he tried to focus on how the hell he was going to get out of this predicament. He needed to get back to Sam, he needed his little brother to help him undo whatever the hell had been done to him.

It was a simple spell, one that should have allowed Dean to communicate with animals, that should have allowed him to have a conversation with the only witness of a crime that was his case. At first, the spell did the job it was intended to do. He was able to talk to all animals and got the information he needed, but on his way back to meet his brother, his stomach started to twist. He felt as though all his bones were being crushed then reformed, his skull splitting while his spine shortened. He wanted to scream yet the transformation didn’t allow it. He felt every crack, every snap and before he knew it, the spell had morphed him into a full grown American Pit Bull. Four big paws, a light brown nose and a long tail came tumbling out of his clothes that were now piled on the asphalt. Dean’s new heightened senses overwhelmed him and he found himself attempting to run back to the motel where his brother was residing, however he’d gotten lost in the alleys, unaware of which way to turn. When he frantically tried to get past a stack of empty boxes and garbage bags, he hadn’t seen the cluster of barbed wire. Before he knew it, he was tangled up in the torturous mess of sharp metal; the more he moved, the tighter it got.

To make matters worse, it was hammering down with rain. His fur was soaked through and paws cold from the growing puddle beneath him. Dean’s shivers were visible to passers by that looked straight past him, either oblivious or not wanting to risk their safety for a trapped dog. His throat was becoming sore from the wire and for the first time in a while, Dean was feeling hopeless.

Of all the ways I thought I'd go, this wasn't it, Dean thought as his green eyes stared hopelessly at the sidewalk not too far from him, a metal mesh fence being the only obstacle that blocked him from the public.

Feeling colder by the minute, Dean had started to whimper. He hadn’t got the energy to try to shout, or bark, in this case. All he could muster was soft, small cries as he stared through the mesh. He hoped his little brother would find him, he hoped that by some miracle he had realised that the spell had further effects than what they thought. His head began to hang low, his eyes now trained on his new reflection in the puddled water beneath as he felt his energy beginning to dwindle. He was starting to tune out the sounds around him, wanting to focus on his own thoughts instead of the nearby traffic.

It was then that a small yet bright light flickered over him. If he blinked, he would have missed it. He lazily lifted his head, allowing his nose to sniff the air slightly as he tried to work out what was happening. Through the darkness, he noticed a figure standing at the fencing, fingers wrapping through the holes in the wire as they tried their hardest to move it. The sound of the metal scraping along the sidewalk echoed down the empty alleyway before that small yet bright light came back to shine down on him. It blinded him slightly, a mixture of curiosity and panic rising from within him as he started to hear light footsteps edging closer towards him. It took a moment for him to focus but Dean was soon able to see who was approaching him. It was a woman.

He watched how her pace slowed, his eyes still trying to make out her features through the darkness, his nose tentatively sniffing at the air to try and work out who was in front of him. As she got closer still, Dean's worry grew. She could be anything; a demon, a shifter, a werewolf. His mind was spinning but he knew he didn’t want to be cornered, he didn’t want it to end like this; he had to fight. He bared his teeth and let out a low growl, all the while trying his hardest to pull at the barbed wire, the metal scratching into his fur and skin. It made him wince, the struggle becoming even more painful. It was then that he noticed her holding her hands up in surrender, the light in which she was using was coming from her phone which was wedged between her thumb and forefinger.

“Hey, hey, woah now,” she soothed, trying to calm him down as he panicked, the wire tightening even more around his neck. “It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you,” she assured, her hands coming slowly towards his face.

You’re damn right you won’t, lady. I’ll bite your arm off. Dean felt the low growl rumble in the back of his throat, but this didn’t deter the woman in front of him, who was calmly approaching. She brought the light from her phone closer to Dean and he could only assume that she was assessing the situation.

“Has some cruel asshole left you here, huh? Or did you get yourself into this mess?” she asked him, getting close enough so he could see the rain dripping from the end of her nose.

Just undo me so I can find my brother, he thought, although his normal gruff voice came out a howl. He watched as she placed her phone down to the side, the light shining on the barbed wire wrapped around his neck, as her hands came to gently pat his head. He was hesitant, flinching slightly at the contact she was giving him.

“Come on, easy, easy,” she spoke calmly, her fingertips running over the wire that had rendered him immobile. Dean watched how she concentrated, how she analysed the situation before she made her move. Slowly but surely, he felt the wire loosen from around his neck, the pain subsiding as she lifted it over his head. Dean quickly moved out of the puddle as soon as he could, shaking his paws to try and get them dry. There’s nothing worse than wet feet.

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you out of this rain and get some food into you.” Her voice made Dean stop what he was doing and look at her. She was standing now, waiting with a soft smile as she gazed down at him with what appeared to be a makeshift leash in her hand. His mind questioned what would be the smarter thing to do here. Does he bolt? Or go with the woman who appeared to be offering him sanctuary? He needed to get back to his brother to sort this mess out but then he had no idea where he would even start. He needed to be logical about this, he needed time to think all of this through properly but standing here in the rain was making it difficult. If he accepted her offer, that rope leash would be around his neck and there would be no escaping her if it was a trap. But seeing her standing there, patiently waiting for him to come around in his own time, made Dean think that maybe she wasn’t a threat. Maybe she was just an innocent bystander that was willing to help a stray dog.

If only she knew the truth, he mentally scoffed to himself. Here goes nothing.

Taking a tentative step towards her, he sniffed the hand she offered him. With his new found sniffer, he would be able to smell sulfur from a mile away, however she smelled like honey and pecan; she smelt divine. Dean became calm, as if his senses were telling him that she was safe, that he wasn’t in any danger. Deciding to trust his gut, he slowly walked to her side which earned him a soft pat on the head before she slipped the leash over his head. Dean huffed, this is ridiculous.

He followed her cautiously out of the alley, scanning the area as best he could, just in case. When the woman got to the mesh railing, she stepped around it and waited for him to pass. He knew she was expecting him to struggle and attempt to run, but as he looked back up at her, her soft smile and relaxed features reassured him that she'd have no objection if he wanted to do just that. Another reason as to why Dean decided to trust her and allow her to help him. She opened her car door on the passenger side before gesturing for him to enter. Dean stared up for a moment, just taking in how much bigger everything seemed to him now before he decided to work up his energy to make the small jump needed to enter the vehicle. Once on the seat, he sat proud to ensure his body was as tall as he could possibly make it as she gently shut the door behind him. It wasn’t long till she joined him in the front, taking her place in the driver’s seat as she wiped her wet hair out of her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her coat sleeve. She turned to face him, gently offering her hand to pet his head in a reassuring manner, a move Dean was unsure of as he moved back slightly. This caused his rescuer to look lower, her eyebrows arching and a small smile tugging on her lips as she pulled her hand back.

“So you’re a boy, that’s good to know,” she mused. Wait...what? How does she... Dean didn’t miss the flicker of her eye and slowly looked down. Sure enough, as he sat there proud as can be, little Dean was on show for all to see. Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me, he thought before he slowly lays himself down across the front seat, desperate to retain his doggy modesty.

“I’ll take you to the vets in the morning, buddy.” He watches as she starts the car, a low rumbling coming from the engine before her music kicked in. “Get you scanned for a chip, see if we can find where you come from,” she continued before she began to hum along to the music that creeped in through the speakers.

Stairway to heaven, Dean immediately recognized, tilting his head as he did so. This woman has got good taste.

“Now I bet you’re starving and after the night I’ve had, I need comfort food,” she sniffed and it was only then Dean noticed that the woman appeared to be unhappy. Her slightly puffy eyes and red nose were an indicator that she may have been crying for a while before she’d stopped to help him. Of course, the red nose could also be from the cold and wet weather conditions, but Dean had the hunch that her night may have been just as unpleasant as his.

As she pulled the car away from the sidewalk, Dean took a moment to try and think over the mess he’d gotten into. Sam never mentioned that this spell would actually turn him into a dog and with Castiel out of action, he knew he had no hope of getting back to his little brother by any supernatural means. He was going to have to figure this out the old fashioned way. Dean knew they were in Enid, Oklahoma. His brother was in a local motel, but getting back there on four paws was going to be difficult. He glanced aside, grateful that this woman had found him and was giving him some sanctuary from the heavy downpour, grateful that she was so far taking care of him. He needed time to work out his bearings and he was hoping that from this woman’s home, he’d be able to plan a route that would take him back to Sam.

The car turning into a local burger joint caught Dean’s attention, the smell of grilled patties and fresh french fries overwhelmed his senses and it made him shoot up from his laying down position, his stomach rumbling at the smell. He was hungry and he’d never been so relieved that this woman was driving him into a drive through. As she pulled up to order and rolled down her window, Dean’s doggy mouth started to water, drool gathering at the end of his chin. He wasn’t even ashamed.

Please order a bacon cheeseburger, please, I beg of you, Dean thought, the drool from his chin now dribbling onto the seat beneath him as he watched his saviour lean speak to the intercom.

“Two double bacon cheeseburgers, a water and a vanilla shake please,” she ordered politely. “Are you happy with that, boy?”

Boy, am I! Thank god you’re my kind of woman! Dean was overjoyed that this lady had ordered him his favourite food without even knowing. So happy in fact that a certain part of him had started to move really fast, whipping from side to side in a rhythmic manner. Why is this moving and why can I not control this?! Dean panicked, turning his head to watch as his tanned covered tail continued to beat against the leather seat. Seriously, stop moving!

Too busy concentrating on how to control his tail, Dean didn’t notice the car move to the next window. It was only when the rustle of the take out bag was heard, that he stopped paying his attention to his new found body part. He whipped his head around and allowed his nose to sniff manically, licking his wide mouth in response to the full flavoured smell. His stomach rumbled at the thought of the contents of the bag, he couldn’t wait to get his mouth around that burger. Even though he knew his eyes should be trained on where the woman was now driving too or even the woman herself, Dean couldn’t stop staring at the bag that was in her lap. Doggy instincts or not, he felt like that burger was the most important thing in the world at that moment.

It didn’t take long for his feeder to come to a stop, in fact it was only around a five-minute drive but to Dean it felt like an eternity. She turned off the engine and with the bag in hand, she exited the car. He watched her through the window and noticed that they were now outside of a house. Nothing too big or fancy; it was quaint. There were only a few other houses along the street, the sidewalk lined with trees and grass, yards edged with white picket fences. It was a place where Dean could see himself living if he ever got out of the life of hunting.

The sound of the passenger door opening broke him from his thoughts, he turned his fur covered head to see that burger lady was waiting for him, his leash in her hands. She didn’t have to tug, Dean was more than happy to jump out and set his paws onto the ground again, eager to get somewhere warm and dry with food in his stomach. Walking up the garden path to reach her front door, he notices movement to the left of him and immediately stopped to try and work it out.

“Evening, dear!” An elderly woman popped her head above her bushes, rollers in her hair and a smile wide across her mouth. Dean noticed how she immediately looked down at him, her eyebrow arching slightly.

Oh great, a nosey neighbour, he thought, because what neighbourhood doesn’t have one.

“Oh hey, Mrs Kirkman,” his rescuer replied politely, offering a little wave as she did so. He could tell by her tone that even she got fed up with her neighbour from time to time.

“Got yourself a new friend, Y/N?” Mrs Kirkman asked, her eyes still staring down at him.

Y/N. Nice to finally know your name. Didn’t want to be calling you burger lady forever, Dean mused, turning to look up at the woman next to him.

“Oh, sort of,” Y/N sighed, knowing if she didn’t tell the story her neighbour would only ask anyway. “I found him all caught up in barbed wire in an alley, I’m gonna take him to the vet in the morning to see if we can find who he belongs to,” she finished.

That’s what you think, I’ll be gone before sunrise. Dean didn’t know if dogs could frown but he was at least attempting too. He just needed a safe place to rest, somewhere to think over what his next move would be; he wasn’t sticking around.

“Poor thing,” Mrs Kirkman tutted. “Well, I’ll leave you be, dear. I’m sure you and your boyfriend will have your hands full this evening with this one,” she chuckled.

“S-sure,” Y/N stammered, causing Dean to feel concerned. “Bye, Mrs Kirkman.”

Y/N’s goodbye was quiet and he had noticed the slight change in her demeanor when the neighbour had mentioned her boyfriend. She didn’t glance down at him once as she opened her front door, the metal keys jangling against the lock as she stepped inside, gently pulling Dean with her. Once inside, she bent down and removed the makeshift leash from his neck, gesturing for him to explore if he wanted too as she walked into what he could only assume was the kitchen, shedding her wet coat along the way. He wasn’t sure what to expect with not knowing Y/N much at all, yet he felt comforted by the things that surrounded him. The place wasn’t pristine, her shoes were not in the ready built shoe rack in the hall, there was a glass left out on the coffee table in the living room from when she was last here and as he peered into the kitchen to follow her, he noticed there were a few dirty dishes on the counter. She was perfectly normal.

“I’ve never been so happy to be home,” Y/N whispered to herself, as she grabbed a shallow dish from the drainer before she reached into the takeout bag for the bottled water. The rustling caught his attention, reminding him that his juicy burger was still yet to be devoured. He eagerly came around and stood next to her, his eyes trained on the bag as he waited. Y/N just looked down at him, her hair framing her face as she offered him a small smile. “Guess you’re missing your home too, huh buddy?”

You have no idea. Dean thought to himself, allowing a small huff of air to leave him.

“Alright, buddy, let’s go eat,” she announced, grabbing the bag and holding the bowl of water as she walked into her living room, Dean hot on her heels.

Before Y/N could even settle herself down on the couch, Dean had excitedly run around her and jumped onto the cushions to join her, waiting patiently for his food. To him, this was normal behavior, you sit down to tuck into a delicious meal but to Y/N, it was amusing.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” she jested, a slight chuckle passing her lips as she settled into her usual spot.

I am. You really don’t expect me to stay on the floor do you? Once again, Dean was frowning even though it wasn’t showing. Being a dog was going to take a lot of getting used to, but he sincerely hoped that he didn’t have to, that tomorrow he would wake to find he had ten fingers and ten toes, yet he knew better than that. Life was never that easy.

Y/N reached into the bag and pulled out her burger, Dean watched closely as she unwrapped her meal, his eyes honing in on the melted cheese that was oozing out over the bacon and steak patty. Man, he was hungry. He didn’t know whether it was because he was a dog or just because it had been hours since his last meal but he could not stop staring at the meal in her hand as she took her first, significant bite.

“Oh, that is one good burger,” she moaned around her meal, her tongue peeking out of her lips to lick away the stray sauce that remained. Dean could feel his mouth salivating as he watched her. This is porn, this is literally food porn. Y/N had noticed him staring and had also noticed the drool that was staring to lace her pillows and she let out a small chuckle as she reached back into the bag for the second burger. Dean couldn’t stand the wait anymore.

Oh come, lady. Give it to me, please, he begged, licking his lips once more as a little whimper sounded from his throat, causing Y/N to smile as she began to unwrap Dean’s food before tearing the burger into little pieces. To him, this was like emotional torture. I am begging you...shit, how do dogs beg? Paws? Here, have my paw, have both paws!

“Alright, alright,” Y/N laughed as she watched how invested he was in the food, “when was the last time you had something to eat, huh?” Her question fell on deaf ears as she placed the open wrapper full of chunks of burger in front of him.

Come to daddy, Dean exclaimed in his mind, moving fast to start scoffing the food down him as quickly as she could. Oh my god, this is heaven.

“Take it easy, you’ll make yourself sick,” Y/N playfully scolded, watching on with wide eyes at how fast this dog was eating. It didn’t take long, not even a minute until the whole thing was gone and Dean sat back, licking his mouth as proud as punch. He didn’t care that he ate it super quick, he didn’t care that he could feel some of it lodged in his throat because it tasted that good. It was only when he started to cough that he went a little more wide eyed. Maybe she was right...

“Here have some water,” she encouraged, picking up the bowl of water from the floor to bring it in front of his face. Dean just looked down at the bowl before he looked back up at Y/N, questions forming in his mind.

How the hell am I supposed to drink this? He looked back down at the water and he knew if he wanted a drink, he’d have to at least give it a go. He’d seen dogs drink before, he could do this...right? With a deep breath, Dean angled his neck down and opened his mouth. At first, he began to bite at the water, not a lot actually going into his mouth before he realised he had to use his tongue too. He could feel the water splashing onto his face through his many failed attempts at having a drink and when he heard Y/N giggle, he stopped what he was doing to look up at her.

“You’re a mucky pup, aren’t you?” she chuckled, amusement glistening in her eyes as she stared at him, moving the bowl back down to the floor before she started to tidy the mess of their dinner away.

I’d like to see you try, lady, it’s harder than it looks! Dean felt himself huff as he watched Y/N walk away with the empty wrappers in hand. He was already finding being a dog taxing; not being able to free yourself if you get caught, not being able to open your own damn burger and now he had to drink water out of a bowl. It had only been a few hours since the change and he was already so done with it all.

While she was out of the room, Dean jumped down and began to really take in his surroundings. He noted the large bookcase in the corner which was adorned with photos. There was a lone chair by her bay window that was covered with a faux fur throw. A small keyboard and guitar on the opposite side of the room, music sheets littering the space around them. Her walls were covered with framed classic movie posters, some of which he highly approved of. So far, so good.

The sound of shuffling made Dean turn his head and halt his exploring. Y/N had returned, however this time her hair was in a bun on top of her head and she had changed into more comfortable clothing. He slowly made his way back over to her but on this occasion, he stayed close to the chair that was angled next to the window, choosing to jump up and lay there. She settled herself back down onto the couch, taking a sip from her vanilla shake before she turned on the television. Dean noted how she went straight to netflix, snuggling herself down in a blanket as she waited for the streaming service to load. It was only then, that she looked for him and began to pat her hand to her thigh to beckon him over. But Dean didn’t move an inch.

“Yeah I get why you wouldn’t want to cuddle me, boy,” she whispered, dejectedly, “seems to be a theme to my evening,” she muttered, leaning back into the couch and placing her head on a pillow, before she started the show that was next on her watchlist.

Dean was grateful for what Y/N had done for him so far; but he wasn’t the cuddling type of dog. Hell, he wasn’t any type of dog. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings by not going over to her, though to him, it all felt a little strange. There was no way he could explain this to her. For one, he was unable to speak and two, if he were able too, she’d mark herself as crazy for being able to hear him talk. What was he meant to do? Go searching through her books until he finds one with a dog in and point his paws at it? I ain’t no Lassie.

Sniffling brought him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing on the woman who was curled up on the couch. He watched from his position on the chair as Y/N quietly wiped at her eyes. She was crying, that much was obvious, and Dean could only assume that this so-called ‘boyfriend’ Mrs Kirkman mentioned was the cause of her anguish. He was unsure how to best handle her. He couldn’t comfort a woman he barely knew over a situation he knew nothing about, yet he couldn’t just sit here and watch as she sobbed into a fresh kleenex. Making his decision, he slowly made his way down from the chair to her side, nudging at her with his nose to show her he was there if she needed him before he lay down on the floor in front of her. He didn’t see the small smile she gave at his actions but he did feel the hand that came down and gently stroked his back in thanks.

For now, this was fine but tomorrow, things were going to be different. He wasn’t a pet, nor was he anyone’s lap dog. He was Dean Winchester and his priority was getting back to his brother. His priority was turning back into his human form. Tomorrow he will find Sam, no matter the cost.

——————————————– Chapter Two –> ——————————————–

A/N: So begins a new series! I hope you guys enjoyed it so far. Thanks so much for reading. Please let me know your thoughts if you have time <3

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If you fancy coming in this mini Dean adventure with me, let me know HERE :)

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ladybugsfanfics · 6 years ago

Text

Shut Up And Kiss Me [4/?] | Tom Hiddleston x reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Style: part 4 of ?

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: cursing,

Summary: You and Professor Hiddleston have been colleagues for many years now, and through those years the hatred for each other has only grown. Now, as a new school year starts, you’re being told that you have to share a classroom or a class. Neither are happy about the outcome, but knowing you’ll never come to an agreement, you let the class choose for you. Team-teaching is rare in 2019, but it is a lot harder to do when you can’t stand the person you’re doing it with.

A/N: the respones to Part three were so amazing. I love you all and your love for this. Also, i think we might be getting somewhere now? Maybe... hope you enjoy

If you want to be added to the taglist, please send an ask ^_^

Previous | Series Masterlist | Part Five

He leans against the teachers desk, a worn first edition of Hamlet in his hands. The book is closed, with a bookmark jutting out the top where they stopped reading. Tom takes in the students, all of whom are immersed in their own world of writing and analysing.

The clock nears the end of the class, which has the professor sigh. Both from displeasure at having his class end, but also in relief that it’s finally Friday, and he has no plans for the weekend save relaxing.

“Okay, if I may have your attention, please,” he says after a few more moments. “I want these tasks done by class on Wednesday. Enjoy your weekend, and remember to read.”

The classroom empties, and Tom with it. The trip to his office takes little time. A feeling of deja-vu strikes him as he unlocks the door and hears a loud groan from the room next door. He heard that same groan a week before.

However, as Benedict isn’t there to check on the professor whose office is next door, he goes into his own and slumps down on the couch by the wall. He has every right to go home, take with him his work and maybe cozy up with Bobby, but instead he lies there, the door open, and with a need to just sit for two minutes, if not two whole days―two whole days sounds nice.

A door creaks open. Closes shut.

“Hey.”

Reluctantly, he looks her way. She knocks carefully on his open door and gives him a small smile.

“Could you… could you maybe help me with something?” Y/N purses her lips. She raises a brow his way and looks like she expects a ‘no’.

Which is what he wants to say. For the love of God, he does not want to move, but he twists on the couch and sits up. He doesn’t say anything, but gestures for her to talk.

She rubs her neck, her gaze flickers from him to his desk. “Uhh, so like…” She lets out a sigh. “I was asked to do this thing, you know, as a favor to… someone, and.. Uh, I’m not really strong enough to do it myself.”

Tom frowns. “And you ask for my help?”

“Well, I didn’t want to, but everyone I know are busy. Either home, or have class.” Y/N tries for a smile, but it looks rather weird.

He sighs. “Okay, sure. What is it?” He stands up.

“Just follow me.”

He does, keeping two steps behind her the whole way, and with every one, his feet ache and his head throbs just slightly more. How glad he is Benedict and Sophie had date night and needed a babysitter last week and not this.

They stop at the entrance to the basement, and Tom frowns as Y/N turns around to face him. “The basement?” he asks.

She nods. “Yeah, I don’t like it any more than you do, trust me.”

“I don’t,'' he says, “but lead the way.” He gestures for her to start the way down, and as she opens the door and walks the steep steps down, he follows.

The stairs end abruptly, and as Tom takes the last step, light floods in. Y/N is already on her way down one of the corridors, and Tom hurries after. When he catches up to her, he coughs from the dusty air and she turns back to him. “Really sorry about this.”

Despite his irritation and annoyance for the colleague, he believes her. “What are we really getting anyway?” he asks, coughing more. It’s like something has stuck itself to the back of his throat.

“Some old archives.”

“Old archives? How old?”

Y/N takes a right turn. “About a thousand years,” she says. “No, it’s some older essays written by professors during the early nineteen hundreds that are now deceased and whose work we no longer use because it’s mostly outdated.”

“And why are we getting it?”

“Because I got my research project approved this morning. And as a favor to one of the other history professors who’ve agreed to help me find some sources, I had to get down here instead of him.”

Tom shakes his head. “And you’re dragging me with you?”

She shrugs and speeds up. “Yeah. Why not? If I’m doing something awful, don’t you believe I would bring you down with me to suffer the same fate?” She turns around and gives him a mischievous smile. It glints in her eyes.

“You couldn’t have used a trolley?” he asks.

She stops and raises her eyebrows at him. “How the hell am I supposed to get that down here?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs.

Before she turns around, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“How much is it though? We don’t have to go more than one trip?” He’s not sure he can bear it.

She doesn’t reply. Only takes a left turn and stops. “Shouldn’t take more than two at most, but yeah, I believe we’ll do good with one.” She reaches up, pulls out a box and opens the lid. Inside lies a bunch of papers in indecipherable handwriting. “Right place.”

Y/N hands him the box and takes down another one. She checks this one, too, and gives it to him. “How many boxes are there on this?” he asks as she takes down a third.

“About, I don't know, a hundred at least.” She makes a grimace. “But he wanted specific ones and I know these archives like the back of my hand. First year I started here, I researched psychology, mainly historic psychology and I used a lot of the stuff down here.”

Tom grunts as she places another box on the stack in his arms. He has three, and he might work out, but paper can be quite heavy. The next box she puts on the ground and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“And how many does the professor need? Who needs it, really?”

She shrugs. “He thinks I know what’s best to pick by what he told me. In reality he needs them all, but I think he can make do with these five.” She picks up the two he didn’t get. “And it’s professor Bettany.”

“I don’t know him particularly well.” Tom steps to the side and lets Y/N walk first seeing as she knows the way out. “What is it he wants with this?”

“I think he wants to see the progress in belief. Mostly in how their papers are influenced by societal norms, he does teach some social studies classes, too, after all. Probably link them up to modern day history textbooks and papers. He asked for one of my own on a subject I made sure is included in these boxes.” She takes a left turn.

Tom sighs as a reply. He concentrates enough on trying to see behind the boxes blocking his vision. It’s not as easy as it sounds, and they tear at his energy more than before.

And then everything goes pitch black. He stops, not daring taking another step. Y/N stops, too. He can her shuffling and a small thud.

“I’ll go check what’s up, be right back.”

Her steps fade away before he can tell her to wait. With a sigh, he puts down the boxes and clumsily tries to find the wall. He slides down, arms rests on his knees and he closes his eyes. His thoughts swirl as he sits there, making his brain drum in his ears. Sitting there in the dark, eyes closed, he can feel the need for a nap go through his body. Slowly, he feels his mind slips away and the sleep―

“So.” Y/N’s voice startles him out of his near sleep. He looks to where her voice came from. “We have a little problem.”

Tom sighs. “Don’t tell me were locked in here.”

“Yeah, we’re locked in here, and the light doesn’t go on. Because they turn that off when they leave, and the main button overrides the one down here.”

“Great,” he says. “Why did I agree to this? I can’t believe you got us locked down here.”

“Really? This is all my fault?” He can feel her judgemental, exasperated look. “I just asked for some help, you can’t blame me for saying yes. Honestly, you should be thankful because had I gone alone I would be stuck here and when they would’ve found my body on Monday, you’d be the number one suspect.”

Tom scoffs. “They might still find your body on Monday unless you come up with a plan with that great mind of yours.”

She laughs. It echoes is the corridor, vibrates in the air. “Wow.” He hears her fumble and then the sliding of someone down a wall. “Okay, sure, blame me. But this is not all my fault.”

“Are you sure? Because I believe it was you who needed to go down here. I believe it was you who asked me to come with you. And, I believe it was you who didn’t alert anyone that you were going down here in the first place.”

“That’s not even a thing. I never did those times the first year either, and you know what, this never happened once.”

“Ah, yes, the true story of Y/N Y/L/N. The professor who thinks she’s so smart she doesn’t actually know anything. What is it you call it? Bullshitting?” He smiles and laughs. The dark dissolves into decipherable pieces little by little, and he can see her outline.

“And the fucking dude who thinks with his dick and actually believes it when it says it’s his brain,” she retorts. “Come on, dude, I don’t want to be down here any more than you. I was supposed to go to a wine night at my friend’s house, but I guess being down here works, too.”

Tom sighs. He gets to his feet and finds the boxes. “Come on. I’m not staying here all night. We’re finding a way out.”

“Finally, some fucking sense.” Y/N scrambles to her feet and picks up the boxes she dropped earlier. The two of them walk to where they came from. The exit is dark, and the before open door is now closed.

They set the boxes down at the end of the stairs. Tom takes two at a time to get to the top. He shakes the door, but it doesn’t budge. He checks around him, maybe there’s a key for emergencies down here, but there’s nothing.

When he comes down again he hears low mumbling from Y/N. “Nope, no. Not working, nope, won’t… and that would, uhh.”

“What are you doing?” he asks.

She looks his way. “Trying to rack my brain for an idea. There’s gotta be something we can do, and I know you tried to look for a key up there by the door. It doesn’t exist.”

He rolls his eyes and sits down at the end of the stairs.

“Okay, but I know this place, so what if we put the boxes up at the top of the stairs and try to search for another door leading somewhere, and when we’re out we can get the boxes from here then?”

Tom groans and gets up. He takes the three boxes he was carrying and starts up the stairs. With the boxes, he feels a lot less safe than he did before. The stairs are a little too steep for it to be comfortable to walk without holding onto the railing. But he gets up, and he sets the boxes down by the door. Y/N comes up right behind him, though there isn’t much space at the top step and as she sets down the boxes, she slips. Tom’s hand grabs her wrist and pulls her up. He can see the fear in her eyes as he drags her close to make sure she doesn’t fall.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice small and mixing with her breath. He lets go of her wrist, steps around her and starts the walk down again. He holds one hand on the railing, glad he doesn’t have boxes to carry down. He glances back at Y/N, who takes a careful step down, both hands on the railing. She purses her lips and stare at the stairs with wide eyes. Every step she takes, she uses what Tom uses for two. He’s down more than a full minute before her, but he doesn’t rush her. Normally, he would complain, but seeing how terrified she looks, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Where do we go first?” he asks.

Y/N looks from side to side. The dark makes the corridors harder to see far in, but she doesn’t use long before choosing to go right. The opposite way of where they went to get the boxes.

They walk in silence for a while. The dark and dragging of feet are their only companions. The occasional sigh from either of them breaks the silence every now and then, but the corridor doesn’t seem to end.

Y/N stops. She turns around and faces him. “Do you have your phone on you?” she asks.

Tom checks his pockets. Mostly, his phone lies in a pocket in his bag. It does so now, too. “No, I don’t.”

She sighs. “I don’t either. Didn’t expect us to end up being down here long.” Her hand goes up to her face and she rubs her chin. “I was hoping you had it, and if we had service, we could call Ben.”

“Sorry that didn’t work out.” Tom leans against the wall. “Why did I agree to help you?” He says it mostly to himself, but the history professor slides down the opposing wall.

“Because, according to my friend, you’re a ‘nice guy’.” She uses air quotes as she says ‘nice guy’, and he chuckles and slides down the wall he’s leaning against.

He nods. “Nice guy, huh?” He smiles. “I think your friend’s correct.”

Y/N scoffs. “Yeah, the only reason we’re really talking now is because we’re stuck down here. You’re an idiot and that’s how it’s always gonna be.”

“Sure, I’m the idiot. I’m not the one who didn’t alert anyone that we were going down here and then got us locked in.”

“Oh, yeah, great. Blame me.” She shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable. I try to come up with ideas to get out of here, and all you do is call me an idiot. Maybe you could help?”

Tom nods. “Sure, if i wasn’t too exhausted. But I can’t sit here forever, I have someone waiting for me.” He gets up from the wall. “Come on, if we stay here, I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“Because I’m that boring, yeah I get it.” Y/N gets to her feet and glares at him.

“Your words, darling.” He flashes her a smile and continues down the corridor.

---

As Y/N tries to budge the door they find, Tom checks his clock. They’ve been down there for over an hour he realizes, and lets out a loud sigh.

“Can you help and not just stand there?” Y/N stops trying to budge the door and turns around. She looks at him impatiently.

He rolls his eyes and moves to help her. They push at the door on three, and it budges a little. “One,” she says again. “Two. Three.” It gives in, but not enough. On the third count of three it budges enough for light to filter through the gap. They give it another go.

The door opens wide. The little light signaling the end of the day cascades in. Tom doesn’t hesitate to get out. The air around him turns breathable. The light of the lowering sun welcomes him. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of relief. He takes a deep breath of fresh air, filling his lungs with smells he didn’t know he’d missed.

Y/N comes out moments after, though she doesn’t seem to take pleasure in it. She stalks towards the closest entrance back into the university building. Tom follows after at his own pace, continuously enjoying the fresh air that fills his lungs.

The history professor holds the door open by leaning against it when he catches up to her. She shakes her head, huffs and walks into the building knowing Tom trails after.

The basement isn’t far away from the entrance, and when they get there, Y/N slides her keycard over the lock and the door makes a noise to let them know it’s unlocked. Within a few minutes, the boxes are in their hands and they walk back to Y/N’s office.

“Just put them down on the couch,” she says and does that with the two she carries.

Tom follows her lead and puts them down. He glances at her and purses his lips as he puts his hands in his pockets. The silence is deafening, and unusual. But Tom doesn’t feel it’s right to argue after the time spent in the basement. They argued enough confined there as it was.

So, instead he nods and turns to the door. “I’ll be off now. See you Monday.”

She nods, though her expression seems lost. “Yeah, Monday, yeah.”

Tom takes one step, and is stopped by a hand on his wrist. He looks up at her, ignores the warmth that flows through him at the touch.

“Thanks,” she says, a soft smile accompanied with the words. “You know, for, uhh, saving me on the stairs.” Y/N let’s go of his hand and rubs her neck. She bites her lip as her eyes lock with his.

He returns her smile. “You’re welcome.” Sweat feels like it trickles down his back. “Can’t have you dying on me,” he says, “who would I have to pick a fight with?”

Y/N lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s true,” she says and nods. “Anyways, thanks.”

Tom doesn’t reply with anything save another smile and walks out of there. His hands are clammy and he feels his shirt cling to his back. Maybe he underestimated how draining being in the basement had been?

---

The TV plays in the background as Tom scrolls through his phone. He never really updates Instagram and doesn’t even bother checking what’s new there. Who even uses Facebook? So, as usual, his scroll is Twitter focused.

He likes and retweets a few tweets before coming to the conclusion that a Saturday night should be spent differently. But, before he can put down his phone and follow the TV with the same interest, a notification pops up. Mail from Y/I/Y/L/N@*****.co.uk.

Tom sits up a little in the chair and clicks on it.

Y/N Y/L/N this u

When we heard that one sound, this you:

Wise words:

There is no actual end to the email, just the three pictures. Tom frowns at it. First of all, he did not scream at the sound, he made a very unafraid jump and sound came from his mouth. Second of all, he had some good ideas, and third, he does not roll his eyes that much.

And he finds it rather funny Y/N would think so.

Thomas William Hiddleston Re: this u

I’m not sure I understand what you mean by this, but I am certain you are wrong whatever it is.

- Tom

Warmth spreads through his body as he hits send. It feels like he’s sweating, which there are no reasons for. He puts down his phone and gets up and out of the chair, but the feeling doesn’t shake. It’s probably just exhaustion, he tells himself. Maybe a small fever, but nothing that won’t end after the weekend. It’s probably nothing.

permanent tags: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

tom tags: @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert

tags: @plooffairy @just-the-hiddles @jennytwoshoes @lokissidehoe @fruitfly123 @princetale @scorpionchild81 @noplacelikehome77 @winterisakiller @lostsoldieronahill @nonsensicalobsessions @cherrygeek86 @louhpstuff @olyamoriarty @sunshinein17 @kthemarsian @kumikowi @secretcupcakekitty @buckygrantbarnes @josis-teacup @runawaygiirl @januarycalendargirl @funny-fangirl @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpiomindfuck @dr-kayleigh-dh @inmyworstlies @twhgirl

bold in the taglist are people tumblr won’t let me mention, message me and we can fix the problem ^_^

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