#insert image of baby with arms up disappearing in a flash

[notalberich]

KAORU HAKAZE....

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 6 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

Mina, Kaminari, and Bakugou did not waste any time.

No sooner had Bakugou spoken than he had you on your feet, shepherding you to the door. His movements had completely changed--no longer was he loud, aggressive, the most volatile thing in the room. Now, he slipped behind you like a shadow, his body pressed firmly and protectively over you, lithe armor at your back.

Mina and Kaminari moved with you, looking solemn.

“We’re going for the surveillance room,” Bakugou growled, “Need to see what the fuck is happening.”

The hall was barren as you emerged into it, silent and still until another explosion rocked the foundations of the building.

“And fast, we need to get Y/N out,” Mina added.

You didn’t protest. You didn’t know what the hell was going on, but you knew distant explosions couldn’t mean anything good.

The surveillance room made it all too clear exactly what was happening. Tens of people were pouring into the top levels of the building, smashing through windows on the business floors, blowing the sides of the building clean open near marketing. A few men dressed in dark coats appeared to have the gall to waltz straight through the front entrance. Everywhere, Miruko’s civilian employees were fleeing in all directions, uncertain of where to run in the chaos.

Your pulse spiked wildly and you watched as Bakugou’s gaze narrowed to scarlet pinpricks as he seemed to spot something familiar to him.

Kaminari made a choked noise. “Is that--?”

“Sugimoto,” Bakugou growled, tapping the image of a tall man surrounded by some kind of glowing purple forcefield quirk. A crackle of sparks lit off from Bakugou’s palm, hot and sharp, and you jumped in surprise.

“What’s Sugimoto?” you asked, looking up into his face.

His lip curled disdainfully. “He’s head of a crime syndicate. Miruko agency raided them a couple months ago in coordination with the police, took down almost the entire syndicate in one straight shot. Miruko killed both of his brothers during the firefight--I’d bet anything he’s here for revenge.”

You suppressed a shiver. Either the man was incredibly confident in his own ability to take on the number seven hero and her entire agency, or he was fucking insane and desperate for revenge. Either way, you did not want to be caught in the crossfire.

“Raccoon, Pikachu, get up to the business level,” Bakugou commanded, a calloused hand closing around your arm. “I’m gonna get the nerd out first, and then I’ll be back to roast Sugimoto in his fucking skin.”

Kaminari nodded and Mina gave you a smile and a reassuring pet over your hair. “Don’t be too late or we’ll get to have all the fun,” she said to Bakugou, winking.

And then she and Kaminari were gone, disappearing in the direction of the stairwell. Your heart rate stuttered nervously, watching them go. Mina’s confidence was reassuring--she was fucking terrifying when she was in her element, and Kaminari was powerful too. But there had been so many people flowing into the building, like the rising tide of a sudden tsunami. You hoped they would be okay.

“You in there, nerd?” Bakugou’s voice cut through your flurry of doubt.

You looked up at him, steeling your features. He was still streaked with dirt and scratches from the training room. You hoped having trained so much already wasn’t going to disadvantage any of them in their fight. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

He considered you, blonde brows turned down. “You’re gonna be fine, nerd. I’ll kill anyone who fucking looks at you.”

A small strangled noise like a laugh escaped your throat. He was so bad at being reassuring, it was almost reassuring in and of itself. He still was going to be entering the fray several hours into using his quirk already, however. You wondered if his self certainty was going to be enough.

“You don’t think I will?” he demanded angrily, looking absolutely incensed. He looked like he might storm out of your office again, like you had just said the word help to him.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you said. “When you go back in, just--be careful, okay?”

His eyes picked over you curiously. Then a small, mortifying smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. “I fucking knew you had a crush on me, you little freak.”

Your face heated as you gabbled out a protest. “This is so not the time. And I didn’t say that.”

Bakugou rolled a strong shoulder, looking far more relaxed that he had any right to. “Yeah, whatever. You’ll be singing a different tune when this is over.” He watched you for a long moment, his expression looking strangely contemplative.

And then he leaned down and kissed you on the mouth.

Your brain went empty. This could have been just another day at the office for all the thought you were giving the fight upstairs. This could have been any day anywhere, because suddenly you couldn’t remember where you were or what the fuck was going on at all. Bakugou’s mouth was hot and insistent, and he curled a strong arm around your waist to draw you closer, biting down gently on your lip.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt for dear life, knees going strangely weak, as he swore into your mouth and pressed you into him harder.

“Fuck, I’m not finished with you,” he said when he released you, pressing one last hard kiss to your mouth. “You’re gonna stay right the fuck where I put you, got it?”

You nodded dumbly, trying to will your fingers into unclenching from his shirt. “Y--yeah.”

He smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. You felt your eyebrow twitch reflexively, despite everything that had just happened. “Alright, stay close, nerd. I’m gonna get you the fuck out of here.”

You nodded again. He pulled you behind him, letting you fist your hands in his shirt again, and then lead the way down the hall, keeping close to the wall, the line of his body tense and alert. Some of your earlier uneasiness settled back over you, oppressively heavy, weighing down your every step. The training had been truly terrifying but this was much, much worse, the dread and anticipation coiling in your gut until you thought you might be sick.

You made it to the stairwell and flipped up several floors without incident, though you could hear with some clarity the scuffles ongoing on the floors above you. You encountered no one, not even fellow heroes or civilians, until you hit the ground floor.

Bakugou reached behind him, pressing you even closer to his back with a firm hand. “Alright, nerd. Stay close while I move. If I stop, stay still and trust me, alright?”

Your blood pounded in your veins and you took a calming breath. You could hear the sounds of a fight just beyond the door, but there was no other way out of the stairwell. You’d just have to go through the main floor. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” he said. And then he kicked open the door.

Your brain short circuited and you had just enough mind to register that he was moving, scrambling to keep up with him as he stalked forward through the doorway. You held on to the back of his shirt, pulse spiking wildly, and not just because of your apprehension.

There was a deafening boom like thunder and the hall in front of you went up in a flash, the walls splintering into pieces. Over one of Bakugou’s broad shoulders, you could see the explosion blowing two men straight through the window at the end of the hall, glass shattering around them.

From down the hall came Miruko’s harsh tone, her breath a little labored. “Katsuki, fucking watch it! That’s my window.”

“Yeah yeah,” Bakugou growled, not sounding the least bit chastened. He pulled you to the side as something cold went sailing past your left shoulder, firing off another blast from his palm to shoot the person right through the hole in the window he’d just made.

The two of you crossed through the halls slowly but surely, Bakugou sending anyone who came across your path straight through the wall. To your surprise, he ducked into rooms as he went, demanding that the agency employees hiding under their desks “stop acting like little piss babies and get a move on.” Soon there was a small squadron of people following after his back, and Bakugou had you out of the building and blinking in the sunshine before any of the villains caught the group escaping.

“Stay with these extras,” Bakugou commanded imperiously, shoving you after the group of employees towards the end of the street where the growing swell of sirens could be heard. “I’ll see you soon, nerd.”

He paused, fingers brushing over your mouth for a moment. And then he was gone, shooting himself straight back into the fray. The sirens at the end of the street got louder, and soon several squad cars were pulling around the corner. You joined the flow of people streaming out of Miruko’s agency towards the police, though you couldn’t rip your eyes from the agency building.

The windows had been blown out tens of floors up, and you could hear the crackle of quirks in use, see the flash and bang of Kaminari’s lightning, the blue glow of an unknown quirk on the fifth floor, a tangle of vines wrestling several men out of a window on the fourteenth floor. Mina appeared at a window briefly, covered in acid hardened to an armor, easily deflecting what might have been a devastating blow and kicking a yakuza straight through the glass.

You bit down on a whooping cheer. Now wasn’t the moment.

You tried to keep sight of what was going on as the police shepherded you behind a makeshift blockade, cordoning off the area and sweeping the nearby buildings to help evacuate. The crowd of people around you chattered and shifted restlessly. The longer the fight dragged out, the more anxious you became, your senses heightened to the point of strain, looking for any sign of Bakugou and the others.

Then, to your horror, detonations went off on several of the floors, blowing out the remaining windows, and the building itself shuddered and groaned. A chorus of screams went up from inside the agency as pieces of the building began to detach themselves, crumbling to the ground. Your heart leapt into your mouth, blood icing over in your veins.

A few terrified looking civilians appeared at the windows on the top floors, clinging to the window frames as the foundation lurched. You went still, hardly breathing. Oh my god, were they going to jump? They were several stories up, odds were low they would survive if they did. But--the building shuddered again--fuck, they weren’t going to make it if they went back inside.

Oh my god you were going to watch people die right in front of you.

No sooner had you had the thought than someone was rocketing straight up at them from the ground. Your heart rate spiked, recognizing that mess of blonde hair--Bakugou. Without ceremony he grabbed two people and leapt back off the side of the building, using his explosions to slow their descent. They’d barely met the ground before he was up again, catching another two around the middle and hurtling straight for the ground once more.

Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt, watching him anxiously. There were just a few more, just three more people and he would have everyone. You willed your breathing to slow, eyes glued to the scene before you.

Then there was a purple glow, and Sugimoto appeared behind the civilians.

You stopped breathing.

Sugimoto kicked one of the civilians in the back of the knee, sending him out of window, careening head over heels towards the ground. Bakugou had barely just enough time to react, tackling the man in mid air and hitting the side of the building hard with his shoulder before he was able to correct their trajectory.

The building gave another rattle as he did, a crack splitting straight up the middle, spiderwebbing into a thousand smaller fissures.

A blur of pink appeared at the base of the building, Mina materializing just as Bakugou hit the ground with the civilian. A crowd of heroes dragging injured civilians followed her, several of them immediately grabbing onto the people Bakugou had gotten to the ground and towing them out of arm’s reach.

You looked back up to the top floor where Sugimoto had the last two employees in his grip, the edges of that forcefield rippling and roiling over him. His mouth moved like he was saying something but you were too far to hear it, though you could guess the implication. He had a forcefield quirk in a building he’d engineered to collapse. The heroes could choose to go after him but the building was seconds away from imploding, and there wouldn’t be enough time to grab both him and the civilians. Even if Bakugou went up, he only had enough capacity for two people--he’d have to pick between the civilians if he also wanted to grab Sugimoto. And besides that, he wasn’t indestructible. Bakugou didn’t have a quirk that could shield him the same way Sugimoto did as the building went down.

The idea hit you at the same time it appeared to hit Mina and Bakugou. The people around you began to murmur in alarm as Bakugou sank back on the concrete, laying down flat on his back like he was going to take a nap in the sun. In the midst of a crisis the visual was certainly out of place, and a soft “what the fuck is he doing?” from behind you reaffirmed it.

Quick as a flash, Mina had coated herself in hardened acid, and then she was stretching out over Bakugou’s lean form, her vicious smile visible even from where you stood. Bakugou raised his hands to her stomach and called something to the heroes nearby. They all went stumbling back, tearing away from him as fast as they could.

All was still for a second. And then a blast of heat and fire ripped through the street, a roar like thunder rendering you deaf for a moment. You closed your eyes against the wave of hot wind and dust Bakugou’s explosion kicked up, and when you managed to crack one open, Mina was hurtling through the window like a rocket, hitting the edge of Sugimoto’s shield and driving him straight back into the building.

The civilians dropped from his grip.

Bakugou braced his hands against the ground and let off another massive explosion, propelling him straight upwards. He met the civilians in seconds, managing to grab them and flip around in mid air, aiming another series of blasts at the ground to control their fall.

A shocked cheer went up behind you when they hit the street, and you couldn’t contain your own gleeful noise that escaped you, though you couldn’t tear your eyes from the spot where Mina had disappeared.

Bakugou barely had time to get the civilians clear before the top floor began to crumble as the building shook, plaster dislodging itself from the ceiling and slapping down in loud thuds you could hear even from where you stood. You watched anxiously, waiting for Mina’s reappearance, as the building gave one final shudder and then caved in.

The second it did, a head of wild pink curls appeared and Mina flung herself off the top floor, just as the floor gave out underneath her. Bakugou was already moving, breaking into an all out sprint. He flung his arms out behind him, explosions ripping up the ground underneath him, and he collided with Mina mere feet from the ground, wrapping an arm around her and blasting them both back up just as chunks of the building slammed down where they had been.

The entire building came crumbling down in a shower of grey dust, shaking the street and sending a wave of car alarms sounding. Bakugou and Mina came down in a semi-controlled spiral, managing to hit the street just beyond the police barricade, Bakugou rolling in the same move he’d done with you earlier to disperse some of their momentum.

A wild cheer went up and you shouted too, elation rising in you like a flood, crawling through your limbs like a slow shiver.

Miruko hopped the barrier beside you, rushing over to where Bakugou and Mina lay. They were both panting, covered head to do in grey dust, looking worse for wear but alive.

“Sugimoto?” Miruko demanded.

Bakugou pushed himself up on an elbow, the red of his eyes bright against the dust covering him, like a spot of blood on a tissue. Mina popped up next to him, nosy bloody, but grinning.

“Unconscious,” she announced. “Shoved him out the back of the building before it collapsed. I melted the floor under him and he lost focus for a second. That’s all I needed to hit him and encase him in acid. He should be a little injured from the fall but alive.”

Miruko grinned savagely, leaning down to ruffle both of their hair. “You did good work, brats.”

“Get the fuck offa me, hag,” Bakugou complained. You noticed he made no move to dislodge her hand, though, and you stifled a laugh at how obvious he was. Mina had said he had a thing for girls who fucked with him...

Then Kaminari was bursting past Miruko, throwing himself onto the two of them in a whirlwind of tears and flailing limbs.

“That was the coolest shit I have ever seen!” he declared at a deafening volume. “You launched Mina through a building! It was fucking awesome!”

“I’ll launch you through a building if you don’t get the fuck off me,” Bakugou growled, shoving Kaminari’s weight straight onto Mina. He rolled to his feet before Kaminari could come back for more, cocking his head to look into the crowd like he was looking for something. An EMT to patch him up? An officer to make a report, maybe?

Then his eyes locked onto you, and you realized.

Oh, he was looking for you.

He was on you in seconds. You didn’t have time to even squeak out his name before he was swallowing it up, pulling you close to him. He tasted like ash and dust, frankly kind of gross, but you were so disturbingly relieved that he was okay that you didn’t even care, pressing even harder against him as he kissed you.

And okay. So maybe you did have a thing for him, you thought. Maybe. Just a little.

He was still annoying as hell, but he’d just saved a ton of people. Just now, you hadn’t even seen him engage in combat except to rescue people, he’d saved dozens of people including you and Mina, and he’d pulled off the most awesome assist that you had ever seen, letting Mina take down the big bad instead of haring in after the dude himself.

He could, maybe for now, totally get it.

Bakugou smirked down at you when you finally separated, red eyes and white teeth bright against all the grime on him. He leaned in, placing a hand on your cheek.

And in the haughtiest, most migraine-inducing tone ever, he said: “Now who’s the fucking best?”

You made no effort to conceal your eye roll. Well, you supposed, there was only so much about a person that could change in a month.

Instead of complaining, you let him kiss you again.

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

If you’re interested in the secret life of models or baby momma drama, you’re well fed tonight. 

This story actually means a lot to me bc it deals with a lot of issues that I hold very dear (I stayed up last night and wrote like three chapters lol). That being said, the content may be a little triggering to some people: (eating disorders, slight alcoholism, pregnancy, discrimination, overall angst) 

There is also a slight mention of nsfw (she’s gotta get pregnant somehow) to begin with but besides that, it should be pretty safe

Reader discretion is advised.

HnM 💕

Month 2, Month 3

--MONTH 1--

“Mmmm…” 

The dazed hum of your own low voice peeled back a layer of sleep from your mind.

The cloud of blankets underneath you swallowed your body, tempting your stirring form to stay asleep for just a little longer. As your mind teetered upon the steep edge of unconsciousness, a flurry of scenes played in your head.

You let yourself fall into the random, vivid dreams as you finally gave up in your struggle against the warm embrace of the bed. The film that performed in your mind was a choppy one at best; however, you still caught glimpses of the action:

The dark room... The dancing city lights outside of the window… the low screeching of the rocking mattress underneath you… the breathless moans… looking down to see the mingling of scorching sweat, illuminated by the red light peeking through the window… looking up to see the flash of his even redder, vermilion eyes for just a split second before your lips were captured… the lewd mewls that you didn’t even notice until they were gone, caught in his warm mouth.

The quick, dreamy waves of erotica left just as soon as they came, their sudden disappearance sending a jolt of consciousness your direction.

What. A fucking. Wakeup call.

The bed once again flutily attempted to grab you and hold you back in your sleeping state, but you forced yourself to roll over into awareness. As your body turned, your eyes finally painfully pried themselves open. Once the brief sting of light passed, you found yourself smirking at what you saw,

Holy shit. Dreams do come true after all.

The man in bed with you—you finally realized that it was indeed his bed—was turned over on his side facing away from you, but that didn’t stop you from admiring the view.

His arms, godsent and chiseled by Michelangelo himself, extended from under the blanket-- one used as an extra pillow under his head, and the other laid peacefully on his side. As peaceful as the display was, you could still see the rippling muscles layered underneath his airbrushed skin. You could only begin to imagine what they looked like when he was flexing.

Suddenly images from last night of his strong arms pressing your legs up toward the headboard infiltrated your mind, and you didn’t have to imagine anything anymore. You bit the bottom of your lip to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Virtually immediately, your smile melted from your face and the sound of tires screeching blared within your head. What the fuck were you doing staring at this dude like some damn creep? What? Were you gonna wait for him to wake up to invite you to breakfast? Were you gonna go on a lunch date with some no-named dude you met at the “booty room.” As if.

God, ew.

You tried to ignore the fact that you had just been reduced to a soppy 16 year old all over again.

You gave one more passing glance over the top of his ash-blond hair before straightening your face with a with a quirk of an eyebrow and slowly pushing yourself out of his bed. You glanced out of the window and noticed only a thin stream of light peeking through the glass. Good. It was still early morning. Plenty of time to make it to work.

You would like to avoid Ainu’s bitching mouth today.

You fluffed your hair up, deciding to adopt the “after-sex hair” and make it your own as you scoured the bedroom floor for your dress from last night. You spotted it just a foot away from the door. Damn you really didn’t waste time, huh?

You fought the urge to laugh at yourself as you walked over and shimmied yourself back into the dress, some of the sparkles flying off as you shook your hips. You had found your panties just right next to the bed and your bra hanging off the lamp on the nightstand. You stifled a laugh at yourself as you slid the items on underneath your dress. What a fucking night.

Mostly everything at that point had been accounted for, but there was still one thing on your mental checklist that you couldn’t find—well, two things to be exact.

Okay…

Shoes... shoes… Where the fuck are your shoes?

As you continued searching for the shimmery heels, a sudden deep groan from the bed startled you a bit, causing you to freeze as you watched ‘good ol’ no-name’ stir in his sleep. You paused for a few long moments while he, thankfully, settled back into his slumber.

You let out a quiet breath of air that you hadn’t even known that you were holding and decided then and there that you could do without those shoes. If Cinderella could do it, why couldn’t you?

You quickly grabbed your handbag and phone from his nightstand and commenced your getaway.

I mean, you were obviously no virtuous princess and he was hardly prince charming from the foul mouth that you could remember from last night—insert blush here-- but still…

You turned the handle behind you as you softly shut the door so that it wouldn’t make much noise, only to turn around toward the hallway and be met with a pair of bright, crimson eyes. Caught red handed, You faltered a little bit as the built man in front of you became practically as scarlet as his hair,

“U-Uh-- Good morning!” Kirishima forced out as he obviously struggled to keep his eyes on your face. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering down the chains of silver that barely held your dress on your shoulders.

Or the open slits on your upper thighs that let your shapely hips spill out from underneath your shimmering dress.

Or your obviously messed up hair that had probably spent much of the night between Bakugou’s fingers. He felt his face become unbearably hot at the intrusive thought.

His eyes flickered back up to yours, but not before you could notice the way that they seemed to trail down your body.

You relaxed into your chest a bit, Okay, just a roommate. He seemed fairly harmless and ‘SIMP’ enough not to raise many red flags or dangerous pervert alerts. You breathed into something resembling a laugh as you smirked up at him, “G’ Morning.”

Kirishima’s breath was caught in his lungs at the song of your voice, “M-morning…” Shit, did he already say that? The man suddenly became very aware of what he was wearing. Or rather, what he wasn’t wearing as a draft flew in from the pants leg of his boxers.

His blush almost instantly intensified—and he thanked every lucky star that he didn’t have the hormonal “tell-all” body of a teenager anymore.

You only smiled, brushing past the red-head, toward the front door. As you made your way past the kitchen you noticed a bowl of fruit displayed on the bar. Your mind quickly fleeted to thoughts of ‘what a weird fucking thing to see in what was obviously a man cave—o-or a bachelor pad. Man pad? Bachelor Cave???’ Did you accidentally wonder into a Martha Stewart catalog without realizing it?

As you eyed the odd arrangement of fruit, you didn’t even notice the other two roommates already situated in the open living room—their eyes wide as they trailed your form.

“Are these real?” you spoke up suddenly, startling Kirishima who was at this point deciding whether or not to go back into his room and pretend he hadn’t seen you and lost half of his brain, or to go to the kitchen for breakfast as he had planned. “Can I have one?” you shamelessly asked.

“Yeah! Sure!” Kirishima answered maybe a bit too strongly. The poor man just wanted to compensate for his totally unmanly display earlier. He just… he’d never seen anyone like you before. Especially not in his ‘humble’ (that was being generous) apartment.

That’s when one of the men from the living room decided to speak up, “You can have all of them, sweetheart,” his voice immediately snapped your attention toward the rather spacious (empty--except for a couch, a TV and a... bench press?) living room, where you came into contact with the speaker’s golden eyes, “Go on. Take as much as you want,” the kind smile he wore contained just the slightest hint of ulterior motives, you noticed. You take back what you said earlier. The real SIMP was right here.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Just one will do, thanks.” Your flat tone did nothing to disinterest Kaminari as he ogled at you grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and shoving it in your mouth when you noticed a pair of heels haphazardly tossed by the front door. Aha! There are your fucking shoes!

The electric blond watched in utter fascination as you held the fruit between your teeth and began slipping your heels back on. Holy shit. He was glad he woke up early for once.

Kirishima approached two of his roommates, shaking his head at the giddy one currently drooling over Bakugou’s overnight visitor,

“Get a grip, dude. It’s not manly to stare like that,” he lowly warned so you couldn’t hear. He felt like a bit of a hypocrite, but at least he was trying to maintain some decency. It seemed like Kaminari had simply thrown all of his fucks to give out of the window as he shamelessly eyed you like an Englishman on safari. Come on, bro!

“Yeah. Didn’t you hear her with Bakugou last night?!”

“How could I not, Sero? I’m pretty sure the entire complex heard!” Kaminari resentfully whispered to his two roommates before sweeping a hand through his blond locks and snaking his way towards you, “So… what’s your name, gorgeous?”

You could hardly hold back the look of disgust that fell upon your expression as you looked up at this man. Read the fucking room, dude. You couldn’t make this situation more obvious if you were wearing a damn sign on your head that said “One Night Stand: Hit It and Quit It,” and sprinted out of the apartment.

You didn’t want to make friends.

You didn’t want to introduce yourself to someone’s roommates when you didn’t even know their damn name.

And you sure as hell didn’t want to be passed around to said stranger’s roommates like a fucking bottle of wine at communion, “First name: Not, last name: Interested,” you deadpanned.

A series of “OHHHH’s” and “She got you, Bro! She got you good!” sounded throughout the apartment. As you swung the front door open, looking back one final time to see the look of absolute disheartenment spread across the blonds face, “Ba-bye~ Oh! and Thanks for the fruit, Red,” you winked before shutting the door behind you, unknowingly causing Kirishima to dissolve into a blushing mess.

You heard a bit of commotion come from the other side of the door when you left but didn’t pay it much mind as you began your walk to the nearest train station—taking another bite from your bachelor pad apple.

Bakugou, however, couldn’t ignore the commotion you had left behind as his scowling form emerged from his bedroom, “Could you idiots be any fucking louder!?” The blond was already in a terrible mood. He had woken up to fucking ketchup, mustard, and mayo’s shouting only to realize that his bed was suddenly much colder than he remembered it had been when he fell sleep.

The frustrated man was instantly met with his other blond counterpart throwing himself at his knees, “Bakugou, buddy!” he cried out, clutching the fabric of the other man’s sleepers, “You’ve gotta teach me your ways!” he groveled at his feet as if Bakugou was the lord and savior of in-cels everywhere.

“The hell are you talking about?” his hands crackled furiously as he seriously prepared to blast the dunce-face off of him, “get the fuck off’a me!” he roared.

Kirishima reluctantly spoke up, gaining the two blond’s attention and probably saving Kaminari’s life, “Honestly… I gotta say even I’m surprised. She was… unreal,” Kirishima’s cheeks dusted over in a light shade of pink just at the memory of you.

Even Bakugou had to mask the sudden warmness that fled to his own face as your image suddenly popped into his mind. He shoved the butterflies down into his stomach so that he could shit them out later, “What’s that supposed to mean, shitty hair?!”

Sero, who had previously just been silently enjoying the wild spectacle before him, had finally decided to give his input on the situation, “What Kirishima is trying to say is ‘how the hell did a sack of anger issues wrapped in a mean mug like yours score a chick like that?’”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, HORSE TEETH?!”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” Kirishima whined before Kaminari finally asked the question that had been lingering in all of their minds,

“Did you get at least get her number?” The matter gave birth to a few beats of silence between all the roommates. Bakugou visibly stiffened at this question as his face shriveled up.

“I don’t know… She seemed to get out of here in quite a hurry,” Sero contemplated aloud, effectively breaking the silence.

A tinge of pain shot straight through Bakugou’s pride at his words. You had practically run out of there—away from him. Was last night really that bad? He seemed to have a much different memory than you of the event.

Tch. Whatever. It doesn’t fucking matter.

Shoving these thoughts out of his head, he scoffed, “Good. The hell do I need her number for?”

Silence once again befell the four—this time being disrupted by Kaminari, “You don’t know how good you have it,” he shook his head, “You don’t deserve half the things you get, man…”

Of course, this only caused the apartment to erupt into another fit of commotion—death threats and cheap insults being thrown in every space of the testosterone-filled home.

Meanwhile.

You tried to ignore the multitude of awkward stares you garnered as you made your way through the train station. They were probably—well, more than likely-- because of your racy evening wear, but shit. You didn’t exactly plan on getting dicked down last night. At least, maybe not on a conscious level.

You sighed before boarding the train and looking down to view the notifications on your phone. Oh crap, it was later in the day than you had originally thought.

Boss lady:

[7:42am]

Someone told me that you went to Club 52 last night.

You better not be hungover or wasted when you get here, Y/N

Inches! Y/N! I need you at your inches!

Ahhh. the old 35, 25, 35. The perfect body shape. Well, she can take all 85 of those inches and shove them up her ass for all you cared.

Boss Lady:

[8:03am]

I am serious.

Sick of  cleaning up your messes.

Don’t ever pull this shit again when we have such a big brand deal!

Remember. I have eyes everywhere, missy!

As the messages went on you only scanned them,

How could you do this to me Blah. Blah. Blah. I stuck my neck out for you Blah. Blah. Blah. Where else could someone like you find work as good as this Blah. Blah. Blah. Etcetera, etcetera.

Damn boss Lady was like a fucking broken record.

You closed your eyes on the train and tried to astral project your spirit to a better place. Somewhere where you didn’t have to take a shitty modeling job to pay your damn rent. Somewhere where you had an obtainable passion. Somewhere where you could do something meaningful with your life.

Somewhere where you weren’t just some damn pathetic quirkless girl whose only talent was looking good in front of a camera and taking bullshit.

“You’re late!” The bodies of women lit up by the hard lights on set seemed to all turn in your direction at your boss’s loud announcement. The aggressive clacking of her heels sounded in the air like gunshots as she stormed over to you, but you couldn’t be less impressed by her repetitive intimidation tactics,

“What are you talking about? It’s 9:00!”

“9:04! The shoot started at 9 and you don’t even have makeup on!” her nose crinkled in disgust as she neared you. The way that she dramatically gagged at your scent had your eyes rolling, “And you fucking smell like sex. Jesus fucking Christ Y/N! You. Intern! Get over here! Go hose her down!” she called your friend, Kimi, over, “You’re lucky I don’t ring your neck! The marketing agent will be here in less than an hour and he wants to see progress!” by this point Kimi had rushed over and began herding you away from the multitude of disapproving stares you had gathered from the other models.

But not before you heard whispers of your unprofessionalism.

“Now, go get your pretty ass presentable looking!” Boss lady shooed you off.

As your friend literally hosed you down in the bathroom with her hydropump quirk, she already had a bottle of body wash on hand-- completely desensitized to your naked body by this point. Neither of you said a word for a while, but you could tell that she was itching to speak up, “So…” a grin spread across her face as she rinsed the suds out of your hair, “Was he at least cute?”

“Super fucking attractive,” you gave a short laugh, “At least. I think so. I don’t really remember his face…”

Her loud laugh sounded through the bathroom before the space was once again covered within a thick sheet of silence. When the two of you were close to finished, she sighed at your idle, far off gaze before attempting to strike up a bit of conversation, “I really should be thanking you. You keep my job security, after all,” she joked.

She wasn’t exactly wrong.

She was pretty much hired to be your babysitter under the guise of “stylist intern” in Ainu’s modeling agency; however, when she was hired for this gig ‘frequently bathing a hungover, grown mess of a thot’ and ‘constant ginger ale, and Pepto Bismol runs’ were probably not in the job description.

“I keep my life a mess just for you,” you lazily smirked up at her.

“Your life is hardly a mess. You’re living the dream, supermodel girl.”

Your mind flashed back to girls around you eating cotton balls to satiate their hunger, to women working 10 hour long photo shoots in 6-inch heels, to being urged to give brand promoters “special attention” to secure the agency’s profits, to runway events that left you sleepless for days at a time, to your own fingers plunging down the back of your throat so that you could fit into the impossible dress sizes fitted by your designers, “Yeah...” you quietly trailed off.  

The shoot went fairly well, after your late start.

It was actually different than most others that you have participated in since the main focus was upon the red shoes that they wanted to promote. The photographer had decided—much to the dismay of the other models on set—that you would be a focal point in his artwork. Claiming that you had such a “sexy, sexy look” and were going to be huge one day.

Thanks creepy, middle-aged, French photographer. Now half of these girls are gonna cry themselves to sleep tonight and the other half are gonna create voodoo dolls of you to stick needles in.

Fairly well, or not, you couldn’t fight the urge to click your red sneaker soles together three times every now and then—internally chanting “there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”

Needless to say, it didn’t work.

It was about three weeks later when you found yourself at the official branding event of those stupid red sneakers. It was some kind of charity event/campaign/branding bullshit hybrid—or whatever.

Most of the models that were there the day of the original photo shoot weren’t even requested to go. Since you had been a focal point in that shoot, you were invited (forced) to attend by the brand marketer. Your uninvited colleagues of course, hated you even more after that, but you would trade places with any one of them in a heartbeat.

Your stomach bubbled a little bit—‘need vodka’ it cried.

You patted the poor organ in solidarity. You like to think that you are very in tune with your needs. You’d much rather be boozing it up in some sweaty booty club than be at… whatever the fuck this was.  

Everyone there was dressed up like it was some cocktail party or some christening or something. The large room was filled to the brim with tables with neatly folded napkins and different red and green finger foods on the centerpieces. There was a clearing in the middle, under the chandelier, for “dancing” but was really for people to socialize and network.

Hmmm. Not a red sneaker in sight except for the banners of photos from your shoot hanging from the ceiling, you noticed.

“Could you at least pretend to act interested?” boss lady whispered, “Smile a little, yeah?” Ainu completely rolled her eyes at the strained grimace of a smile you threw her—the glare she threw back saying ‘you little shit!’.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the two of you began to drift away from one another—with her sending you one more lingering glance that said ‘stay away from the alcohol and don’t do anything stupid!’

Of course, you nodded like the obedient little clothing rack you were, but as soon as her back was turned you found yourself snatching a glass or two of chardonnay from one of the passing waiter’s trays. As you took a long sip from the glass—careful not to smudge your lipstick—you found your eyes wondering across the unimpressive room.

They ended up settling in the corner of the place, on a man standing alone, nervously fidgeting with his suit cuffs.

Ah. Quality entertainment! You took another sip from one of your glasses.

You nonchalantly strolled toward the man before twisting yourself around next to him so that you were both facing the growing crowd of the room, “All this for some red sneakers?” you spoke up with a slight grin.

His eyes immediately shot up to one of the banners hanging above you before settling back to your smirk, “Y-Y-your one of the models form the poster!” his face darkened into a deep blush and you slightly lifted one of your drinks into the air with a quirk of your eyebrow as if to say, ‘guilty as charged.’

He seemed to get over his shocked state quickly, “Well… uh-- I guess it does seem a little silly when you put it that way, huh?”

“Is there really any other way to put it?”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment—his eyes trailing toward the ground in front of him, but you were patient. You took the time to take in his wild, green hair—it was dark, kinda like the seaweed that you wrap around sushi. Your mind flickered to what you remembered sushi tasting like, but it had been such a long time.  He finally spoke up “Well, they are giving half of the profits made to start a campaign to end the bullying of quirkless children,”

“Really?” your eyebrows shot up as the man looked back up to you. Your chest abruptly rose up as you gave a half chuckle, “That’s… well, that’s something. Apparently, this brand is being started by some up and coming hero. Deku? I haven’t really heard much about him, but he’s probably just using us quirkless folk as a stepping stool to celebrity,” he seemed to visibly stiffen at your words but it wasn’t every day that you got to talk about civil rights concerning the quirkless. You passionately continued, “It’s like saving kittens or walking an old lady across the street. I mean, what’s a big shot hero like that know about being quirkless? Tell me,” you leaned in close to him and nodded into the sea of people filing into the room, “Do you see a quirkless kid in sight, right now?”

You left him silent as he began pondering your statement. Hm! Good.

Satisfied with yourself, you took in the final sip from your remaining glass—tilting the curvy cup up into the sky to get every drop.

A tall man with glasses shuffled through the dense crowd to make his way towards the two of you “Midoriya, there he is! Excuse me, Miss,” he stiffly bowed to you at an awkwardly low angle before turning back toward the green haired man, “Come this way. Quickly. I would like to introduce you to…”

As he was pulled into the crowd by the weird tall man you found yourself curiously staring at where he had disappeared.

“Mmm. Isn’t he just as yummy as you thought he’d be?” the familiar voice snapped you straight out of your thoughts, startling you into a slight jump. You whipped your head behind you to see Kimi’s giggling face, “C’mon!! Ainu wants you to get some photos in at that set over there.”

“Ughhh, you know how I feel about red-carpet shoots, Kimi.” It was just a bunch of amateur photographers barking orders and questions at you like some glorified paparazzi. She ignored your whining as she dragged you to the literal red carpet in the far wall of the room, blocked off by a velvet rope and surrounded by a buzzing infestation of flashing cameras. You suddenly became very aware of the very chemical scent of her perfume—and the growing nausea twisting within your stomach.

“You can go find your hero boyfriend, later! I promise!” she practically shoved you onto the carpet, but you could only throw her a confused glance. Who was she talking about?

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell me you seriously didn’t know who that was! We are literally in a room of heroes right now!! That guy that you were with? He’s the entire reason we are here right now, Y/N!” you could hardly fight off the look of confusion that befell your face as you began posing for the flashes of photos being taken of you. Whatever. You probably just looked like the confused bimbo that they all thought you were anyway.

Kimi smacked her hand on her forehead—tossing you an exasperated glance, “Hello!? Red sneakers—the Deku! I can’t believe you. He’s projected to be the number one hero in a few years—that Deku!”

You felt your blood immediately run cold.

The Deku you had put on blast directly to his face. The one who was endorsing this entire brand that your agency had a deal with—that Deku, “Oh. Shit.”

You suddenly felt very sick.

Meanwhile, the three stooges had finally dragged their grouchy roommate out of the apartment and had made their way into the Red Sneakers Event, much to the dismay of said grouchy roommate. He would quite literally prefer to be anywhere else but here. Hell, he would rather stick his head in a vat of acid than be at some dumbass “quirkless sneaker” party for that shitty Deku. There couldn’t possibly be any good reason for him to be here right now.

“Oh, shit!” Kaminari’s grating voice snapped Bakugou out of his thoughts. He looked up to where the blond was pointing, and his heart skipped a beat.

The banners adorning the ceiling of the space sported a very familiar face.

“Isn’t that your hottie from last month, Bakugou?” the electric man practically giggled with amusement, “Over there, too! She’s at the red carpet!” Bakugou’s red eyes danced over to the succession of flashing lights on the far side of the room. Somehow, even with the herd of photographers clumped behind the red rope, he could still make out your gleaming form. It was as if you radiated light, blinding him to anyone else between you and him.

What the fuck? Where did those thoughts come from?

With a click of his tongue the blond instantly spat these feelings out of his head.

“Huh!” Kirishima tilted his head and gave a short, amazed laugh as well, “Look at that-- it totally is!”

Sero decided to chime in as well, completing the unholy trinity of pains on Bakugou’s ass, “Of course she’s a model. Dude, how did you trick that poor girl into your bed?” It took every ounce of willpower that the ash blond could muster not to blow ‘Elbow’s’ face off right then and there as he ground his teeth together.

Kirishima bravely leaned over to the seething man, “You should go say something to her.”

“Why the hell would I do that!?”

“Because if you don’t, I will,” Kaminari straightened his tie like he was grooming himself to approach you. Fucking as if!

“Like she’d be interested in your dumb ass!” Bakugou loudly snapped.

“That sounds pretty possessive Baku-bro,” Sero hardly ever called him this unless he wanted to get under the time-bomb of a man’s skin, “Almost like you have feelings~,” him and Kaminari began snickering to themselves as Bakugou neared the maximum capacity of his internal ‘pissed off-o-meter.’

The two men laid off of him a bit—knowing very well by this point what buttons to push and when to stop pushing them when it came to their feral friend.

“Looks like you’re missing your chance,” Kirishima spoke up—nodding his head to your fleeing figure. “I think she’s leaving.” Bakugou looked up to see your desperate form dash for the coat racks in the corner of the room.

As you made your way to the coat racks, you were completely oblivious to the lingering eyes that followed you—only focused on the furious ones that approached you and the rising, gurgling feeling in your stomach.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” your pissed off boss halted you right by the coat rack—Kimi, trailing not to behind you, was halted as well, “The event has hardly even started!”

“I don’t…” the bubbling in your stomach shot up your throat and was hardly caught in time as you slightly gagged, “I don’t feel too good, Ainu…”

She could only groan into her palm as she threw her head up toward the ceiling, “I told your ass not to—Ughhhh! Can’t you go one night without getting utterly shitfaced, Y/N!?”

Kimi reluctantly spoke up, “She hardly drank tonight. I think she really is sick,” her voice was very soft in the air as she defended you, and you realized that this is the first time you’d ever heard her talk to your boss directly.

Ainu’s eyes seemed to dance across yours and Kimi’s for a few beats—probably to gauge whether there was truth to Kimi’s words-- before she finally made up her mind, “Fine. Go on,”’ she tilted her head toward the direction of the exit with an irritated wave of her hand, “Take her home.”

“No,” you moved past Ainu toward the coat rack, “I think I can make it on my own,” you argued before shimming your fur on. After a mini dispute, your friend reluctantly agreed to let you make your way home alone.

Bakugou watched on as you gave the women that were with you tiny half-assed hugs before making your way toward the room’s exit—towards him. For the first time in practically forever, the man felt his heart drop down into his toes.

The four roommates all paused as you approached them. You were for sure going to see Bakugou and say something to him, right?

Wrong.

All three friends noticeably winced as you nonchalantly brushed pasted the four of him, not even sparing a passing glance at their shocked, blond comrade. “Oof. That’s gotta hurt,” Kaminari grimaced.

Sero’s lips stretched into an uncomfortable frown, “I don’t even think she recognized you, man.”

Kirishima could only remain silent as he watched a flurry of unfamiliar emotions flicker across his best friend’s face. Even if his buddy wasn’t clearly and uncharacteristically upset, he would still probably be at a loss of words from the secondhand embarrassment that was flooding into his cheeks.

“SHUT UP!” Bakugou snapped, pulling his face back into his trademark scowl, “What the hell do I care? I already slept with her. What else is there to do?” I don’t fucking care, I don’t fucking care. The man chanted to himself as he shoved his body into the crowd—anything to get away from those shitty dumbasses.

Sero gave a low whistle, “Wounded words, from a wounded man.”

When you made it back home that night, you spent the better part of the evening with your head glued to the toilet, and you really fucking didn’t understand why.

Two glasses were practically a baby bottle to you at this point. There is no way that you got sick off just that. So… food poisoning then? You fought a laugh at the amusing thought. You have to actually eat for that to happen.

Shit. And you were cramping like a mother fucker.

You instinctively opened you phone brushing past the ‘Are you okay?’ text from Kimi to make your way to your period tracker app. Maybe it was almost ‘that time of the month.’

A lot of girls that you knew had lost their periods from the severe “weight training” that they endured, but you had actually been regular with yours despite your everyday living.

The app opened—revealing a visually loud, bouncing notification that prompted a different breed of nausea to spin within your gut.

You were about two weeks late.

[beansiewritesstuff]

Zagreus vs The Mortal Coil

Lmao okay so let me explain! So maybe five or so months ago I got really into the game Hades, and I did that thing I do where I immediately create like five thousand OCs and a new plotline for it because I love it so much. This is an idea that spawned from my thoughts on what shenanigans might find Zagreus once he starts exploring more of the surface in the time he has there. I also wanted to explore how he might interact with mortals, and what he thinks of them considering he’s only got what others tell him to go on. I decided a baby would be an interesting dynamic for him, and an opportunity for him to grow further beyond what the events of the game allow. Still debating whether to write the baby as a reader insert or a character of my own? Also I wanted to test out writing using 1st person so consider this an experiment. Next part will be from Zag’s PoV again, but I think I’ll write from the human’s PoV once I age them up a little more.

So with all that said, I just wanted to go ahead and tag @heckpuppyy because we’ve been talking recently and I like you. This isn’t quite the Aconite piece I have planned for you, but it is Hades so I hoped that you would still enjoy it! Happy reading everybody!

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

Suppose this whole situation may be entirely my fault.

It’d been a good while since I last died on an attempt. Long enough that I started to get bored. Making it to the surface had become commonplace for me, and so I began exploring for the brief time I’m able to exist up there. I’d just pick a direction and walk. Which is how I stumbled into this. Perhaps father was right when he said my casual curiosity would get the better of me someday. I always sort of agreed with him; though I never expected something like this. Then again, who but the Fates would?

Mortal behaviour has always been strange, at least to me. Or foreign, I guess. Talking to willing Shades and reading stories of them does little to help expand my understanding. Still, as I think most Gods are, I can’t help but to be intrigued by them. There’s almost a bizarre beauty in their existence, short though it may be. Yet there are also things about them that confuse me to bitterness. Things that strike too close to my father’s behaviour for my liking. Such as, for instance, leaving children out in the mountains to succumb to Demeter’s Winter.

I really hadn’t been walking long before I heard the cries. At first, I thought it might have been an animal in pain. Though I’d heard as many instances of that as I had human infants crying, at the time. It was very odd, this immediate tug in my chest at the noise. Mother later called it “maternal instinct”, though I’m fairly sure that term only applies to mothers. Nevertheless, that feeling was what led me to the clearing in which the squalling creature lay. For a moment, I’ll admit, I was stupefied. Why would a mortal so helpless be so far out here? I thought to myself. And where are its caretakers? Surely it didn’t transport its self all the way up here from the human village. It took a particularly loud hiccupping cry from the child to snap me out of my frozen state, and I found my legs working of their own accord to move the rest of me closer to the small lump of cloth and reddened, tear-stained cheeks. It stared back up at me when I leaned over it, its next wail caught in its throat momentarily at the sight of me. I worry for a moment that I might be scaring it, before my chest tightens in a strange emotion when it whimpers pitifully and reaches out to me. Its chubby little fingers make grabbing motions, and the muscles in my arms flex with the temptation to pick it up. A searching glance around confirmed that no other humans were around, which meant it would be up to me to guide this infant to whatever fate had been written for it.

Perhaps that was too prideful of me? After all, had I thought a bit more thoroughly, I may have reminded myself of my considerable lack of child-rearing experience. This is addition to the predicament of surface dwellers being unable to survive in the Underworld, and me being unable to live on the surface for more than an hour or so.

Alas, thanks to my haste in accepting the self-ascribed responsibility, I gave only just enough thought to this fact to move the child to a small hollow near the doors to father’s realm. It had belonged to an animal at some point, but now laid barren and slightly unkempt. I had just enough time to check it the unpleasant eight-legged surface creatures I’ve heard tell of being poisonous, and to stash my new ward away safely from the elements, before the Styx took me back home. It was only upon emerging from the Pool that it struck me the weight of my decision. A baby. A human baby. One that would have simply died had I not intervened. One that now requires me to fight my way back up to ensure it’s survival. One that will need food and shelter and attention. One that… Now belongs to me.

 “Blood and darkness!” Stygius slips slightly from my grip as it catches inside the Wretched Lout I just impaled. I readjust my hold and heave it out of the sickly yellow flesh, waving it slightly to flick some of the congealing black blood from it. I have no time to stop this run. I’ve boxed myself into such a situation I barely had time to check in with everybody before leaving. I neglected to share my secret just yet, both for a loss as to how exactly to do so, as well as the worry that they would try to talk me out of it. Forgetting this whole thing seems the logical thing to do, and part of me wishes I would. And yet there is another part, small but overwhelming, that screams You must hurry. You must return to it. You must protect it! And it would seem to be the part that’s winning.

The sound of a Boon echoes through the small chamber, though when I look to it, it’s one I’ve never seen before. A deeper blue than from Poseidon, with some kind of feather symbol. When I reach out to it, the sound of a baby’s laughter reverberates through my entire body it seems. “In the name of Hades, uhh… Hello?” The glowing orb expands and bursts in a cloud of feathers to reveal the visage of a beautiful woman. She dons the same colour of chiton as her blessing, with rich green and gold patterning. Her green eyes remind me of mother and Demeter. Mother… “Lady Hera. It’s… An honour.” The stoic looking woman extends her hand without speaking, three blue feathers appearing in front of me. These are different from the regular gifts I receive. It weighs on my mind that my decision will factor heavily into my care for the infant. Hera is the Goddess of childbirth and motherhood, now may be my opportunity to get the best advice possible. It does occur to me that she doesn’t seem the most talkative. But I don’t have much choice, I need to get the most out of this encounter, considering how out of my element caring for another being is. “Lady Hera, I apologise for my boldness, but I must beseech your assistance in the matter of- “

“I sense your predicament, young Prince. I ask you not request more of me than I volunteer, though I can say I am here to help. For now, choose a gift to help you with your ward, and be on your way.” Seems that would be our conversation over. I straighten my stance and properly look over the feathers, now adorned with golden etching in the shape of familiar yet foreign words. “Mother’s Intuition” “Fruits of Labor” “Calming Touch” All seem useful, but if Hera is truly planning to stick around to help me, I suppose my decision now doesn’t hold as much weight as my initial assumption. “Calming Touch” seems it would be the most useful to me as of now. As my fingers brush the barbs of the feather, the “eye” blinks at me, and the other two disappear in small clouds of bubbles. More childlike laughter sounds from them as they pop, and that feeling is back in my chest as I clutch the feather to my chest. The illusion of Hera nods her approval before it too dissipates in a bright flash that has me blinking away the spots in my vision as I stumble toward the next door. I fasten the feather to my tunic and continue on.

 Tartarus passes in a whirlwind, my haste extending to Stygius, as if the infernal blade can sense the situation. Soon the river Phlegethon bubbles and hisses around me, the sulfur stinging my eyes. I leap over a steaming break in the land and carry the momentum through another Slamdancer. More Bloodless spawn behind me and I can only muster a sigh in response. Seems this repetition is starting to wear on my mind. Or perhaps it’s my impatience. Whatever it is, it continues to plague my mind with chilling images of the little creature I have stashed away, the hovel barely big enough to fit it. The idea of what might happen should I delay spurs me forward, not even paying attention to the Boon I accept. The orange-y glow makes me think Hermes, until a deep, rough voice booms above me. Acting on impulse I flinch back and bring Stygius in front of me. The man peering down at me with one eye under his brow scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. Feeling only a little silly, I clear my throat and lower the blade. “Apologies, Lord. I’m distracted by the heat of this place; I meant no offense.” This seems enough for the God and the jaded look to his eyes falls away to leave a particular type of exhaustion. He nods in understanding and lifts a large hand towards me. I notice something clenched in his scarred grip, and when his fingers uncurl to reveal parchment not unlike the House Contractor’s, with similar projects marked on it, a realization dawns on me. I take the paper, my eyes drawn to the blueprint labelled “Sturdy Cottage”. It seems my fears for the infant’s safety are unnecessary, seeing as I happen to have the four diamonds needed to purchase the construct. “I think this will be of much use, Lord Hephaestus. I greatly appreciate your generous assistance.” The God seems mildly taken aback by my thanks but retrieves the ledger and diamonds with a nod at my decision. Sparks fly as Hephaestus leaves, hopefully straight for the surface to begin building the cottage. It feels as if a deep shadow has been cleared from my mind, and my thoughts of the mortal are considerably lighter than before.

 Elysium provides, as always, the most resistance to my journey up. The Exalted are ferocious in their desperation for battle, charging at me with no hesitation upon spawning. I’ve already taken several hits from those blasted Flamewheels by the time I reach the next chamber with something new. At first, I fretfully believe it to be a Trial of the Gods, but upon a closer look, it seems to be a joint blessing of some kind. I recognize the wheat symbol for a Boon of Demeter, but it overlaps a peacock feather. Are the Goddesses aware of this? I hesitantly accept, and the orb expands as any other. In an icy flash filled with children’s laughter, the likenesses two Goddesses stand before me. Demeter smiles down at me, and I might be tempted to call it warm. Whereas Hera stands tall and proud as she did on our first meeting. “Zagreus, I believe you’ve already met my sister. She’s come to me with an interesting proposition; one I believe you should be made privy to.” Demeter summons a true stalk of wheat, golden and shining, and allows me to take it. I twist the stalk between my fingers, watching the little barbs blur together as they spin. “Bury this where you wish. The snow and ice will melt from that place, and your child will be safe from the elements. I know not why you would waste pity on such a creature, but perhaps it will be of future use to you. Good luck, grandson.” I hold the wheat tightly to me as they leave, my heart pounding at the idea of bending the very rules Demeter herself has put in place for this one mortal infant. A very small part of my mind wonders if this is even worth it, but like all my doubts, it gets swept away at the prospect of knowing this creature will be safe. I pin the wheat next to the feather and wonder what my next gift may be as the door clunks shut behind me.

 I’ve almost made it. Just need to get past father and I can get to work. He’s not making it easy, though he never does, and it’s especially frustrating this time. I almost lose my footing on the snow as I dodge another swing. Father scoffs and begins powering up for his stupid laser move. I thank the stone stump for the umpteenth time as I crouch behind it. On the bright side, father only needs a few more hits before the Styx overwhelms him. “You seem especially antsy this attempt, boy. What mischief are you plotting? What could possibly be so important up here?”

“Far be it for me to allow you to ruin my fun, father.” I smirk as Stygius makes contact and slices a deep black gash under the Underworld Lord’s second rib. Father grunts and smacks me away with the blunt end of his spear. The throb is dull and adds no more stress to my body. This may be one of our best fights, on my end anyway. “Come now father, surely you have more important paperwork than this?” I pause to charge up another Bloodstone, distantly registering the hiss of the disturbed snow under my feet. “Watch that tongue of yours, boy. You’ll still have to deal with the consequences when you inevitably return to my House!” My cast lands a hit square on his chest as he finishes his threat, and he falls to his knee. “Until then, father.” I’m not sure if he heard me over the rush of the Styx, but my hope that he did is tinged in bitterness. Turning away, I hurry to collect my Bloodstones and cross the threshold into Greece.

 The mountain seems to be caught in a storm of some kind. The cruel winds howl and whistle past my ears, the sheets of snow all but completely ELEPHANT my vision. I hurry along the treeline, thankful the entrance hollow is facing the direction the wind is blowing. I wonder if Demeter chose this direction intentionally, or if she may have been attempting to wipe out the infant before I had the chance to truly commit to my task. I decide she isn’t that heartless, not now anyway, and kneel beside the hollow. The crying of the infant is still going strong, so I at least can be sure it’s alive. I adjust my tunic so that I can tuck the child close to my body and reach to scoop it up. As I hold it close, my eye catches on the glint of silver around its neck. A chain, specifically one of a necklace. The charm is familiar, but I can’t quite place its origin. A sphere overlapped at each side by two crescent moon shapes. Whatever it is, I’m fairly sure it has something to do with father. Why else would the infant be left so close to his realm? The mortal whimpers quietly, curling in on itself. I need to get it out of this storm. My fingers wrap around the wheat as I stand. Surely Hephaestus would have built the cottage close by, for his own convenience at the very least. I decide to move back closer to the doors, so I can at least avoid the worst of the storm. I must hurry if I’m to find the cottage before my time is up.

The trees seem to fall away off to the right, as the land dips toward a river that’s frozen over. Perhaps I can at least clear this spot for now with Demeter’s gift. The banks flatten out before rising high at the sides, shielding the small valley from the wind. If I look closely, I can see the water rushing underneath the ice layer. I’m just starting to reach for the wheat when I notice a dark shape looming from the opposite side of the river. The cottage! Well, less of a cottage and more of a large house. Praising Hephaestus, I stumble over the frozen river, eyeing the places where the ice sizzles. The hill proves easy to scale, even with the protesting infant at my breast, and the door to the building gives easily to my push, the wind whooshing through the doorway to paint the inner floor white. It’s considerably harder to fight the wind to get the door closed again, but once it is, I’m free to sit against it and bask in the slightly warmer temperature. Even my infantile ward seems more pleased with the new surroundings, though it still hiccups and whines unhappily at me. “Come now, surely a little gratitude’s been earned here?” The mortal cries in response and I can’t help the exasperated laugh that escapes me. Suppose it’s entitled to its opinion, considering the state it’s in. It spurs me to stand again, scanning the room for a place to rest the mortal until I get back. Hephaestus did quite the good job with the construct. Sturdy walls, a strong roof, and windows sealed shut with thick glass to keep out the chill. The room we’re in now is spacious, with an open doorway leading to what reminds me of the House kitchens, and an arched entrance with a step up to a section that might be a lounge? I can see other closed doors that I’ll have to explore later, but for now I move into the kitchen and readjust the infant’s swaddle so that it can lay comfortably. It watches me in what I think is curiosity, though it’s kind of hard to tell with the tears in its eyes. I need to figure out what it needs next. Food? Let’s go with food. What do humans eat? What do human babies eat? Perhaps Hera will have answers. The pull of the Styx is stronger now, and I know I don’t have much longer. I shouldn’t let it see this. I lean over the cocoon of snot and tears and cheeks. The cries quieten as two big brown eyes stare mournfully up at me. “Abahaa!” It babbles and tries to reach for me. I meet its little hand in-between us with a finger. It’s fingers barely wrap around mine. It’s an overwhelming feeling; how small this creature is. Small and helpless and fragile and mine. I carefully remove the infant’s hand and tuck it back in its wrappings so I can leave. I’m able to securely close the door behind me and take but a few steps forward before the Styx arrives. Crawling out of the river is getting easier with my new motivation.

“Don’t worry, little thing. I’ll be back soon.”

[jawnjendes]

no medicine is strong enough | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

AN: a continuation of it came back for more. a bit angsty. a bit real for me. enjoy.

masterlist | series playlist

“I told you not to go to class!” Stella snapped at me.

I had only taken one step inside my dorm, and I was composing myself. The pain in my abdomen hadn’t subsided in the last few days, even with the help of antibiotics. I had been hoping to keep this little health issue from Stella until finals were over, but Shawn took the liberty of texting her what had happened last weekend after the movie. That prompted Stella to put me on strict bedrest, but I didn’t listen. There were other things to worry about, like my job that was ending soon and, as I said before, finals.

“It’s exam season, dude,” I justified, slowly settling myself on the couch. I was winded after walking across campus, struggling to catch my breath. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t lean against the wall in the hallway on the way here.

“You can make up for those!” she told me as she reached over to feel my forehead. “You’re really warm! You have a fever! Again!”

So it wasn’t just pain. It was fatigue I had never felt before, a fever every so often, and a severe lack of appetite. On the TMI side, it was vomiting (though there was hardly anything in my stomach) and odd bowel movements. Oh, and I got chills from the walk back from my stats final.

Stella grabbed me a blanket and made me some chamomile tea. I couldn’t hold it down.

Don’t get me wrong, when this started happening, I went to the doctor. But I only went because when I met Shawn’s mother, Karen, she insisted and all but threatened to drag me out the door by my ankles. Anyway, I had a case of diverticulitis, an infection in my large intestine. The doctor prescribed some antibiotics to kill the infection and sent me home. Simple as that.

Let me just say, those antibiotics did fuck all. It was a miracle I was able to function, although yesterday Stacy sent me home about thirty minutes into my shift. I also missed the classes leading up to finals, and I almost opted out of taking my finals altogether. To say I wasn’t worried would be a lie.

I stayed in the bathroom for the remainder of the day. I was on the floor in front of the toilet, wrapped up in a fluffy grey blanket, shivering so much my jaw was chattering. My phone had been going off since I got home, and I could only assume it was Shawn. Stella probably told him I went to class and now he was lecturing me over text. I felt too tired to grab the stupid device and read tiny words on the stupid screen.

Out in the living room, Stella was on the phone. She was speaking clearly, but I couldn’t process any of her words. This stuff wasn’t new for me, apart from some of the symptoms, there wasn’t need for panic. I could sleep on the floor again, it’s fine…

“She’s literally sleeping in the bathroom!” Stella’s frantic voice said. “She still has a fever and she can’t hold down liquids! I don’t know what to do anymore!”

I tried to stand so I could reassure her that it was just another bad flare up, but the sharp pain in my stomach caused me to hunch over and cry out. “Ow! Fuck!”

Stella was at the doorway in a flash, phone still pressed to her ear. “What is it? What hurts?”

My arm went across my middle, and I focused on the pain. It was the left side of my abdomen, that’s where the doctor said this kind of pain occurs. I tried shifting my position, just as a last minute attempt to see if it was a nasty cramp. The pain remained constant, and it was really starting to annoy me. I wanted to puke and shit myself all over again.

The only noises I could hear were my own agonizing groans and Stella babbling on the phone. She was still at the doorway, watching me lean over the toilet. Finally, she hung up and went to my side.

“Shawn is coming over,” she said, “he’s gonna take you to the hospital.”

~

I’ve gone to the doctor way too many times for someone my age. I’ve sat in LabCorp waiting rooms at the asscrack of dawn to get my blood drawn at least five times in a month. I knew the paperwork that was required for a CT scan or MRI like the back of my hand; The receptionist at the imaging place back home in California knew me by name. I have never been admitted to the hospital, ever. I was never so sick that it required a visit to the emergency room, where Shawn had driven me today.

He had to carry me into the ER. It’s not that I couldn’t walk, he just didn’t want me to. I didn’t argue, I felt weak enough as it is.

A nurse approached us while I was still in his arms, but I couldn’t make out any words being said. The pain wasn’t a sound, but it was all I could focus on, I just wanted to be free of it already.

Shawn was instructed to place me on a gurney that came out of nowhere, and then I was surrounded by two nurses in green scrubs and a doctor in red. My eyes searched around for my boyfriend, who seemed to disappear as soon as I was let go. The medics were talking to one another, shooting hospital lingo I couldn’t understand even though I watched way too much Grey’s Anatomy.

The doctor in red touched my stomach with firm fingers, and it made me cry out and sob.

“I’m sorry dear, I know it hurts,” he said. He was an older man. I tried to connect him to one of the doctors on Grey’s for my own sanity. My mind was blank. “We’re going to help you, alright?”

“You!” one of the nurses, a tall blonde lady, pointed to Shawn, who had backed up against the wall. “What other symptoms has she had?”

I turned my head to properly look at him; He looked just as scared, but he spoke to the nurse. I decided to close my eyes and not let anyone else see my fear. I listened to the footsteps surrounding me, but it only made my heart pound and more tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I tried whispering my calming mantras but instead, some stupid song lyrics came out of my mouth.

“When everything you know has come and gone… you’re at your lowest, I am rising higher…”

My hand balled into a fist as a needle was inserted into my arm. An IV, probably. I could barely hear Shawn’s voice over the commotion in the ER. Must have been a busy day.

“Only scars remain of who I was… what I find in the ashes, you lose in the fire…” I whispered, my voice shaking.

The gurney moved in a certain direction, hitting a bump on the floor, and I cried out again. The nurses profusely apologized and then informed me that I was going to get a CT scan. But first, morphine.

By the time I was lying outside the giant scanning machine, my dark clothes swapped for a grey hospital gown, my veins were filled with the happy shit. The pain was gone, and I was feeling too good. I never had a scan like this. Usually, I was told to drink some gross contrast and then they would inject me with more of it. I always had an anxiety attack in the middle of CT scans, but this one was different.

“I know how this works, Susan,” I said to the technician, who was changing the IV bag I was hooked up to. “Arms up, pics without contrast, and pics after you hook me up with contrast. Then I go radioactive for like ten seconds and I feel like I’ve wet myself. Am I right, Susan?”

“This isn’t your first rodeo, I take it,” the tech replied. “And my name is Chad.”

After the scan, I was sent to a bed in the emergency room. The same tall, blonde nurse brought Shawn back to me and informed us both that my scan results would be back within the hour. Then she closed the curtain around the bed to give us privacy.

Shawn had a clipboard in his hand, which I figured was for me. However, he just stood at the foot of my bed and stared at me. I usually would internally cringe at his gaze, but instead I smiled and waved.

He returned the smile weakly and went to the chair next to me. Then he handed me the clipboard. “I tried to fill out what I could, but… I realized I don’t even know your birthday, much less your medical history. Here.”

“Thank you, my angel,” I told him.

“They gave you something for the pain, eh?” he guessed.

I scribbled on the board, answering all the questions and putting down my information. I wasn’t completely out of it, I was just talking more than necessary. More than I normally would.

“Oh, I’m feeling good,” I said. “Nothing hurts, and that took away my fear. I was afraid I was gonna die. Like, I’m really afraid of dying.” I chuckled.

Shawn didn’t have anything to say to that. He had his eyebrows raised in shock, but he stayed quiet.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” I warned, signing my name on the forms with a loud scribble, “I have a reputation to keep up.”

I put the clipboard aside and looked at my boyfriend. Worry lines were on his forehead, and I just wanted to kiss them away.

“You’re so pretty it’s unreal,” I said in a dreamy tone.

“Aw, thank you honey.” He smiled, but there was still concern in his eyes. “You’re pretty too.”

“I know, thank you. Can you hand me my wallet, sweet boy?”

“Keep giving me cute nicknames and I’ll do whatever you want.”

My unusual affection seemed to cheer him up. Over the next hour, I gave Shawn just about every cheesy pet name in the book. Baby boy, my love, my dear, darling, sweetheart. He savoured every moment of my drugged up ass.

“Let me hold you bubby!” I whined. “Lay on top of me!”

“I can’t do that, baby,” he told me. “Just tell me how much you love me instead.”

I clumsily patted his big tattooed hand. “I can’t do that. The universe will hear about my happiness and take it away from me.”

“The universe will never know,” he reassured, taking my hand in both of his.

“It already does. When we wrote the prettiest song in the world, I let myself be happy. Now, I’m in the ER with some real gnarly abdominal pain.”

Shawn had a thoughtful look on his face. I noticed his eyes fall a little, like he was sad. “Those two things are unrelated, baby.”

“Mm, but the timing was suspeeshy. I overcome my craziness, and I let someone love me, and boom. We’re in a large room full of the sick and injured.”

“Hey, you just have some tummy pain. They’re probably gonna give you more antibiotics and we’ll be on our way.”

I quickly shushed him. “The universe will hear you!”

And it did. The man doctor in red scrubs opened my curtain a few minutes later.

“Hi, Dr. Susan!” I greeted.

“It’s Dr. Buchanan,” he corrected with a smile. He quickly turned serious. “So, your case of diverticulitis has worsened compared to your last scan. We have to go in and remove the infected portion of your bowel.”

“Fun!” I sarcastically replied.

Shawn squeezed my hand so tightly that I gave him a look. He was staring at Dr. Susan, wide eyed. He was never this quiet.

“It’ll be a minimally invasive surgery,” the doctor continued. “It’s only a small part of your large intestine that has to be taken out. You’ll be in and out of the OR between one and four hours. But you will be admitted for at least a week. We are going to move you to a room, so I would suggest calling whoever else you need to call. Work, I’m assuming?”

“Just be real with me, Doctor Susan,” I said, leaning forward, “because I’m scared, and my sexy ass boyfriend is too. Am I gonna mcfreakin die?”

He chuckled. “You will not mcfreakin die. You’re in good hands here.”

I nodded and did the surfer dude sign with my free hand. “Awesome.” Then I looked at my eerily silent but gorgeous mans. “Babey, I need you to call Stella for me. I want my Switch.”

Shawn blinked a few times, and then he kissed my hand. “Okay, honey.”

~

After referring to every nurse as “Susan,” singing Evanescence in the elevator, and yelling “Whee!” as I was pushed to my room, I was finally processing the gravity of the situation. My bowel hates me so much that some of it needs to be removed. I was going to be in the hospital for a week, and I was going to recover for at least four more. I couldn’t eat for the next twenty four hours. I was going to be on a liquid diet. I was going to be open on a table.

Not to mention, Stella was practically in hysterics by the time she got to the hospital. She packed a bag of my bathroom necessities, my medications, my laptop, and my Switch. She also reminded me that we had to be moved out of our dorm by the end of next week. The semester was rapidly drawing to a close, and I was looking at homelessness.

“That’s not true,” Shawn told me before I could panic. “You’re staying at my place. We’ll move all your stuff there.”

I couldn’t argue because I had no other option.

Anyway, I had to email two of my professors and ask to take my finals on a different day. “Dear Professor, please change my final day because I’m having a bowel resection at the ripe age of 21.” Okay, I didn’t type it like that, but I wanted to.

After that, I had to call Stacy and let her know I would not be going into work today, although it was well over an hour after my shift would have started. I explained the situation to her and told her I would be out for at least two weeks. Then she reminded me that my contract with the dealership was almost up… because I was supposed to be going home to California very soon. I had to beg her to keep me hired. Why? Insurance. I hate being an adult.

Shawn eventually stepped out of the room to call his work, and then his parents. I hadn’t met his father or sister, but now I probably had to in this condition. Everything felt really, really messed up.

“What about your parents?” Stella asked me. “Have you called them?”

“I will,” I replied, scrolling through my contacts on my phone. “After I’m discharged.”

Stella placed her tiny hand on my arm, making me look at her. “Look, I don’t know what kinda beef you got going on with your folks, but they have to know about this.”

“They will know about this.”

“I mean right now. You should call them.”

I sighed. “I hear you. I know it’s important. But I met Shawn’s mother while I was recovering from a sick day. Instead of getting to know her and trying to make a good impression, she was taking my temperature and making me go to the doctor. And now I’m gonna meet the rest of his family while I’m high on morphine. I can’t control that because it’s his family, but I can control when he meets mine. And it’s not gonna be like this.”

Stella nodded as she listened. Then, she snapped, “Call your fucking parents.”

“I’m going to!” I shot back. “At a later time!”

We would have argued more, but Shawn entered the room. He didn’t say anything at first, which was odd. He sat at the foot of my bed, flipping his phone over in his hands.

“My mom is on her way,” he said at last.

“Cool,” I replied, keeping the reluctance out of my voice. Then I grabbed my Switch from the side table and occupied myself with Tetris 99.

“Your girlfriend is refusing to call her parents,” Stella told him. “Don’t you think they should know about this?”

I rolled my eyes, but I stayed quiet.

“Uh, yeah,” Shawn agreed. “Babe, why won’t you call them?”

“I’ll do it after I’m discharged,” I said, getting even more annoyed. “They’re my parents, I decide when to tell them.”

Stella scoffed and got up from her chair. She was very personally offended about what I do with my family, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe she has parents who don’t question everything she does, so it was easy to talk about things. Must be nice.

“Y’know,” Shawn said after a while, “if this was happening to me, I would want both my parents here with me.”

He wasn’t wrong. It’s not that I wasn’t scared. He already knew I was scared.

“Look, I know it’s bad, but at least I’m here,” I told him, keeping my eyes on the game I was playing. “I’m getting treated, and I’m getting surgery. I made an adult decision-”

“I did. I’m the one who brought you here. Two hours ago, you said you were afraid of dying. I’m here for you through all of this, but you need your parents here.”

Morphine clearly wasn’t my friend anymore. It was that fake friend you thought you could open up to, but they just betray you and expose all your secrets. I wanted to take back everything I said in the middle of my high. Every secret, every term of endearment. He knew too much.

Finally, I put down my Switch and picked up my phone. I dialed my father’s cell, my heart pounding and my throat burning. None of this was supposed to happen this way.

Voicemail.

“Hi, leave me a message, I’ll call you back… in two weeks, because my wife and I are currently cruising the Caribbean! Bye!”

I scoffed. “Of course. They don’t have their phones on them.”

“Good excuse for now,” Stella said with a snark in her tone.

For once, I didn’t feel like talking back. I stared at the beige blanket covering my lap. I looked at the paper bracelets around my wrist and the IV stuck in my arm. Why did this happen to me?

Stella was so fed up she actually left. She grabbed her purse and left, but not before saying she would be back tomorrow for my surgery. That left me, Shawn, and the mess of emotions I was struggling to keep in.

“Hey,” Shawn said gently, scooting closer to me. “What is it?”

Tears were building up inside of me. The morphine was threatening to expose even more things I didn’t want to say out loud.

I cleared my throat. “Nothing. Things could be worse, right?”

“That doesn’t change what’s happening to you. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay. Here, scoot over.”

I moved to the side so Shawn could sit next to me. He put his arm around me and pulled me into his side. Part of me wanted to push him away, because I was very close to letting myself wallow, and affection would only make it worse. But also… I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. That was all I wanted every time I spent the night alone in the bathroom. I pushed everyone away because I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. But Shawn remained persistent. He let me stay with him when all this started, and he was willing to let me stay with him when I recover.

“When I get sick,” I told him, my voice soft and shaky, “I get a lot of anxiety. I wonder what I ate, what I didn’t eat, what I should have ate…” I paused, attempting to hold it together.

Shawn squeezed my shoulders. “I got you, it’s okay.”

My voice started to break. “I changed… I changed so much of my life so it worked around this sickness. I changed my diet, I didn’t go to college right away, I stayed home because I didn’t want to be sick anywhere else. I was so afraid of eating the wrong thing that just eating gave me anxiety. My mind and my body became my worst enemy.” Heavy tears spilled out of my eyes and I suppressed a sob.

He rubbed my back and stayed quiet. I couldn’t look at him.

“I’ve taken every tea, every vitamin, every medicine. Nothing is strong enough. I do everything I can to stay healthy and… here I a-a-am…” I hunched over and lost control of my sobbing. My mind was spiraling quickly, but I couldn’t form another coherent sentence if I tried. I just wanted to jump out of my skin, I just wanted this to be over. I wanted to be okay again.

“I know, I know it’s hard,” Shawn soothed, scooping me into his arms. His head lied on mine, and he rubbed my back, slowly rocking me from side to side. “It’s okay, honey. You’ll be okay.”

“I’m too young to be like this,” I whispered through my ugly cries. “I-I-I keep thinking I’ll die in my sleep.”

“Hey, no. You’re not dying. But you’re right, you’re so young, and it’s not fair that this is happening. But you’ll be okay. You’ll survive this. You’re a strong lady, remember?”

My chest ached. I never thought Shawn heard my calming mantras. I sniffed and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “I-I’m a strong lady…”

I’m a strong lady.

[ak47stylegirl]

Life Changes - Chapter 8

Okay...what have I done... I may have broken every character in this chapter... honestly get tissues before reading this, you’ll need them...

okay, anyway I hope you enjoy this :)

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

Scott pov.

Grandma and Gordon came out ten minutes later, both with tear stains on their cheeks. Through Gordon seemed to still be crying...

His chest tightened as he stood up, walking over to them. “Grandma, Gordon…?” He said softly, feeling like he was walking on eggshells...

“Scott, take your brother…” Grandma said, her voice barely audible as she nudged Gordon towards him, before turning and disappearing down the hallway in a hurry, faints sobs coming from her...

Now that scared him like shit… it felt like the world had flipped or something, seeing his Grandma, who was honestly a pillar of strength, so...so destroyed….

He turned to look at Gordon, who was staring at the floor, tears streamed down his face. His chest hurt painfully at the sight. Oh, Gordo...

He bent down slightly, trying to look Gordon in the eye. “Gordie? You’re okay?” He asked, keeping his voice soft and gentle as he gently touched Gordon’s arm. 

“No!” Gordon shook his head, and then Gordon was clinging to him, arms tightly wrapped around his waist. “It’s not okay! It’s not fair!”

He sucked a shaky breath in, wrapping his arms around Gordon. “I...I know guppy, I know…” his voice shook, sounding wet and watery. It was so hard not to start crying himself, but he had to stay strong…  

For his brothers…

“Come on, why don’t we sit down…” he guided Gordon over to the chairs, sitting down with Gordon next to him. 

“It’s not fair…” Gordon looked up at him, brown eyes that were usually so full of laughter, were filled with despair, “Why Alan?! Why does this stuff happen to us?!”

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes briefly before looking at Gordon, hugging him tightly. “I don’t know why this is happening, but you’re right, it’s not fair...” he looked at the intensive care entrance, “It’s really isn’t fair…”

Gordon sniffled, rubbing his nose with his hand. “This is going to destroy Alan…” Gordon muttered softly, “you should have seen him, I...I never seen him so...so fragile-looking..” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the flood of tears that were threatening to fall at the mental image, his imagination making it worse than it probably was…but how does he know how bad it was without seeing Alan?

How does he know how bad of a state Alan was in without seeing him? He needs to see Alan, he had to see his baby brother.

He didn’t care how much it may hurt, he had to see Alan for himself, he thought taking a shaky deep breath, trying to get some control over his emotions. But he had to make sure that Gordon was okay first...

“it was horrible, it was just horrible Scotty..” Gordon sniffled, sounding so emotionally drained and tired... “I...I just...I don’t know how to deal with this...I just-“

“Shhh, I know...I know..” he whispered, hiding his face in Gordon’s hair for a second, those tears were getting harder and harder to hold back.. “we’re all tired and just…” he sighed, his heart honestly feeling too heavy, “it is a lot to deal with and we don’t know how to deal with it yet…”

Honestly, they really didn’t know how to deal with it….

Gordon sniffled, pulling away from him. “You need to see him, you need to see Allie Scotty..” Gordon wipes his eyes, “I’ll...I'll stay here, you...you need to see him..”

He sighed, looking down at the floor, “I know Gordo, but I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re okay” he looked at Gordon, his eyes filled with concern, “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you out here alone if you’re not okay..”

Gordon sniffled, taking a deep breath before looking up at him, “I’m fine now, scott..” Gordon gave him a half baked smiled, it looked pretty flimsy honestly.. “really, just go…”

He frowned before dropping his shoulders in defeat, a stress headache coming on from all the worrying he has been doing in the last four to five hours… 

“okay..” he said with a sigh as he stood up, “okay, I’m going…”

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

A nurse led him through the loud and chaotic area that was the intensive care unit. Doctors and nurses were moving about the place in a hurry, alarms were going off nearly constantly and loud beeping from the life machines...

Add the fact that he was already nervous (terrified) about what kind of state he may find Alan in, this was all really overwhelming...

The nurse stopped at a curtained off area, and he felt that nervousness (Terror) skyrocket. Alan was beyond that curtain, mostly likely still unconscious and probably hooked up to heaps of machines...

“forewarning, prepare yourself ..” the nurse said softly, her eyes kind, “it may be a shocking sight..” the nurse pushed the curtain back and held it open for him. 

He took a hesitant step into the small cubicle, making his way up to Alan’s bedside. He sucked in a shaky breath as he laid eyes on Alan, feeling his control start to shatter apart…

Alan had been taken out of the clothes that he was originally in and in their place was a loose blue hospital gown. He could see a little bit of the bandages that were wrapped around Alan’s middle.

And his mind flashed back to the image of Alan laying on the floor, a hole in his abdomen that was seeping blood at record speed as Virgil tried so hard to get it to stop bleeding...

Alan’s neck was held in a different neck brace then the one he had put on him, this one was way bigger. It made Alan seem so small and...and breakable...

There...there were so many tubes and wires connected to Alan, he didn’t know where to look…. Some wires connected to a heart monitor and some other wires that he didn’t have a clue what they connected to, there were so many…

Alan had a feeding tube inserted into his nose and breathing tube in his mouth, as well as an IV inserted into his arm. There was also a tube that came out from Alan’s gown that connected with a bag at the end of the bed, which he quickly realised with horror was a urinary catheter. His baby brother needed a urinary catheter!

Alan’s legs were covered in white elastic stockings, which he guesses were there to stop blood clots from forming… 

He could see what Gordon meant...Alan did look so fragile.. like a gentle wind could shatter him.. oh his little pup, he thought as he brought his hand to his mouth, trying to stop the sob that wanted out. 

“Can...can I have a...a moment alone with him?” He choked, barely able to get the request out. His breathing was becoming harder to control, his eyes starting fill with tears, control slipping...

The nurse nodded, quickly leaving and closing the curtain behind her. Once she was gone, all his control and composure came crunching down.

“He-hey Allie..” he choked as he touched Alan’s cheek gently with the back of his hand. “It’s me, Sc-Scotty..” 

Tears that had been threatening to fall all night were running down his cheeks, and he didn’t care one bit. “Oh baby..” he sobbed, gasping for breath. “Oh my little baby, why does this have to happen to you?” 

His chest was hurting beyond belief, it felt like his heart was going to burst from his chest. He leaned his forehead against Alan’s forehead, “please wake up...please be okay..” he cried, a tear dropping on to Alan’s cheek. 

There was no reaction from Alan, not even a twitch...

He pulled away and collapsed into the chair next to Alan’s bed, his body trembling, sobs coming non-stop…Were they ever going to stop? 

He looked up at Alan, so lifeless and still, so...so unlike Alan and he felt himself shatter even more. Sobs were tearing their way out of him and leaving him shaking and trembling. “Oh, Allie! Oh, Allie..”

He was supposed to protect Alan! Keep Alan safe and...and he failed! He failed!

“I’m sorry…” he sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, his body trembling so badly now that sitting up straight was becoming impossible. “I’m so sorry..” he folded in on himself, holding his head in his hands as sobs tore him apart.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry..”

[mx-writer]

Steve Rogers (Captain America) x Reader

WARNING(S): mature content: cussing self-degrading, and selfharm (there is nothing too graphic or gory)

You Should Know: The reader - you - is written as gender-neutral, so no matter your gender, you can be Steve's lover! Also, you are an insecure chubby person. (I know, a huge cliché, but I promise to make a confident chubby reader insert soon, too! And other body types and such!) Steve refers to you as pretty and gorgeous, which are usually attached strictly to femininity, but guys can be pretty, too, even if they are super masculine in appearance. If you don't like the way I worded things, switch the words to handsome or something in your mind. Sorry if you don't like how I made Steve describe you!

Prompt(s): A song inspired me! I don't remember what it was exactly, hhhhhh. It's on my Wattpad, though!

If these themes and ideas make you uncomfortable in anyway, you really do not have to read.

Thank you!

You weren't always the most attractive person, in your eyes - or even a little attractive. Your baby fat never seemed to have disappeared, and you just keep putting on the pounds. You gain weight so easily, and even when you try to diet properly and exercise daily, your weight is stuck in the same range.

With a frustrated sigh, you step off the little scale. You only pray that it's broken - I gained another two pounds! I mean, of course I did! I'm such a pig!

You squeeze at your stomach, face, and thighs in the mirror. Who'd ever want to look at this gross sack of flesh? You turn so your side is facing the mirror, your stomach sticking out. You suck in as hard as you can, but can only hold your breath for a few seconds before you let out a heavy exhale, stomach dropping back to its origin position.

Your eyes sting with the familiar feeling of tears about to spill over. You slam your fist into your hip to distract yourself from your bad thoughts. A hiss escapes from between your teeth as you cringe at the pain. You had forgotten there was already a bruise there.

Flailing your arms around for a moment, you force a smile onto your lips. You needed to get ready for work. There's no point in sitting here and moping around. You are a busy person, you don't have much time for a pity party.

After hurriedly throwing on your nice work clothes, making sure they cover you up almost completely, and focusing your thoughts on only professional things, you dash out of the apartment complex and hail a cab.

Popping into the main elevator, you head up to your office - well, your little corner of Mr. Stark's office. Even though you've worked there for a couple years now, you still can't believe you landed the job. All you are is a secretary, and all you do is take calls that Mr. Stark ignores elsewhere in the building and file away papers and documents (most everything is digital, but he likes to keep some things down on paper), but it's still an exciting job. After all, you are working for the Tonk Stark - fucking Ironman.

You take a seat at your desk, removing your blazer.

Now, this is the worst part of the job: the waiting. Usually, calls come in every few minutes, or Mr. Stark shoves a giant stack of papers into your hands to sort through, but then there are the slow days - days that you are grateful for, but you get so bored. These days are always random, popping up whenever you least expect it, and nowhere to be seen when you most desire them.

With a sigh, you let yourself relax into your chair. May you could get an extra few minutes of shut-eye. As soon as your eyes drift shut, a door loudly opens, causing you to immediately sit up straight, trying to look presentable.

In walked Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. They were having a heated discussion about something you simply couldn't understand, like they were speaking another language. You didn't allow yourself to stare at them, quickly shifting your vision to the blank screen of your computer.

"__________, I need yesterday's papers! Get the last file from last night, the blue one." Mr. Stark piped up at you aggravatedly.

Quickly standing and sifting through the filing cabinet, you found the thick file and rushed it over to the two men. He ripped it from your hands, frantically flipping through the papers you oh-so-carefully organized last night. Finally, he yanked out a packet of papers and tossed it to Dr. Banner, who barely caught it.

"You can check the math all you want, Bruce, but you know I'm right."

Dr. Banner sighed, "I just want to make sure you didn't slip up, like when - "

"Nah-ah-ah! I almost never slip up! Even geniuses make little mistakes now and again."

Dr. Banner rolled his eyes, "At least you're finally admitting you were wrong. Took you long enough."

Mr. Stark returned the gesture, "I may he an asshole, but you love me all the same."

"You keep telling yourself that; whatever helps you sleep at night." Dr. Banner turned to face you, causing you to tense up, "Do you get the chance to check that document out?"

"Yes, sir! I'll send it back to you now." You head to your computer, quickly turning it on and booting up the file, "Were you two up all night, again? Want some coffee, Docter, Mr. Stark?" You sent the document back to Dr. Banner, flicking your eyes back to the two.

Dr. Banner groaned, "That sounds amazing right now." Mr. Stark, nodded, leaning back into his desk chair.

You swiftly head for the elevator, going down to the next level. You never really understood why he didn't get a coffee machine for his office. He has all the money in the world, what's one little coffee maker going to do? Maybe it's an excuse to get you out of the office, so he can speak with whoever alone.

The ding of the elevator breaks through your thoughts, and you rush over to make the coffee. You look around to make sure you were alone before hopping up onto the countertop. You could feel the cool surface through your pants, giving you goosebumps.

You look down at your lap, and immediately regret it. The fabric of your pants seemed to strain over your thick thighs. You scowled in disgust at yourself, squeezing at them. There was no space between them, all the way down until your knees. Sitting on a flat, hard surface only made them look bigger. You remember this morning, and aim your fist at the bruise on your hip. You curse under your breath at the sting, clenching your jaw. You can deal with the pain. It's your fault you're like this. Just suck it up.

Taking a deep breath, you slid off the counter. You needed to get your mind back on track. You poured three cups of coffee, placing them on a tray, and carefully hurried back to the office.

As the day came to a close, you groggily headed home. Your eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen all day, and you felt a slight burn in your calves from running up and down the tower to take Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner coffee and papers and blueprints and blah blah blah...

You sluggishly wash up and climb into bed.

Let's change this up a bit, shall we?

(third person point of view)

Meanwhile, at the Avengers Tower:

"You are an ass." Steve groans into his cup.

"Language, Cap." Tony, smirked to himself. Some of the others in the room laugh.

"You're never letting that go, are you?"

"Nope." Tony popped the 'p', taking a swig from his own glass, "You should just admit it, already. You can't keep your eyes off of them."

Steve rolled his eyes, stubbornly biting back his nerves, trying to reel in his annoyance, "They're your secretary, Tony. This isn't a child's game. It'd be highly inappropriate for me to desire them in any way."

"Tony's got a point," Bruce chips in, "Your glances may be subtle, but they are far too frequent for you to deny."

Steve only glares at him.

Clint, from the corner, whispers in a sing-song voice, "Chubby chaser!"

Steve's breath hitches, hairs on the end of his neck standing up. He chose to keep his mouth shut.

Tony pipes back up, "They're my employee - which makes me sort of like their dad. It wouldn't be all that bad if you made a move, Cap. As long as you don't distract each other during work hours, and keep everything PG around us."

Images of not-so-PG things flash through Steve's mind. He's suddenly flustered, so he snaps back to defend himself in some way, "Shut it, Tony." That'll have to do.

"Make me." Tony retorted childishly. Steve sent him a glare.

Thor, after being quiet through this whole interaction, finally decides to pitch in his own two cents, "I have experienced earthly love, myself, Steve. Gives you something more to fight for. It could be good for you."

"You, too? Really?" Steve was actually surprised that he had said anything like that, but his annoyance surpassed the shock.

Tony clapped Thor on the back, "Glad you're on my side," he smirked over at Steve, "You know, the right one."

Steve stood from his seat, "I'm going to bed."

This time, very unexpectedly, Natasha is the one to speak up, "I think you should go for it. How could anyone turn the Captain down?"

Steve paused, then went on his way to his room.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program:

Another day, another nickel. You sigh, standing in front of the mirror. Why do I keep doing this to myself? You gently run your fingers over the bruises. They seem to be everywhere - your hips, thighs, ribs, chest, arms... What's wrong with me?

This morning, you can't seem to hold back the tears. They silently fall from your eyes, then down your chest. It's not like anyone is going to see me bare, anyway. Who would ever wish for such a disgusting thing? What does another few bruises matter?

You take a deep breath, and slam your fist into your thigh as hard as you can. You let out a choked sob. Okay, maybe that was a little too hard for a work day - shit, I have work!

You jump into the shower, making it as hot as you can bear to numb your brain and to disguise the fact that you were crying.

Now in your usual seat at your desk, you smile as Mr. Stark enters the room, "Good morning, Sir."

He grumbles back, but the words are unintelligible.

"Rough night?"

This time, all you receive is a grunt. You stand, heading for the elevator, "It looks like it's a straight black morning, huh? I'll return with your joe in a moment." He always seems to forget that coffee exists most of the time. If I - no, not me, I'm not that important, just anyone - wasn't here to keep an eye on him, he'd have died from exhaustion by now.

Doing your usual routine, you start the coffee maker, then hop up onto the countertop to sit. Yes, there are chairs in the room, but, for some odd reason, you enjoy sitting on tabletops and such. It brings you back to your school days, sitting on your desk, whispering to your friends before class starts. You try to block out the bullying, but some choppy memories slip through.

Deciding it would be best, you force yourself out of good ol' memory lane, and look out the large windows. From this height, you could see the city from a better perspective. Instead of the towering building standing intimidatingly above you, you look down on them, in awe of the sun reflecting of the the shiny buildings, making the city look far more at peace than in reality. You allowed yourself this little moment, a small and genuine smile crossing your features. These are rare, precious moments; take advantage.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence, "Oh, hey. Didn't know you were down here."

You snap your attention to Mr. Rogers standing in the archway to the open kitchen area. You blush, quickly jumping off of the counter to stand straight before him, "Mr. Rogers, good morning!"

He offers you a bright smile, "It is a good morning, isn't it?" He walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

"It really is." You then laugh, "But not for Mr. Stark, that's for sure."

Mr. Roger's laughs with you, "Are any of his mornings ever considered good?"

You laugh again, "I wouldn't know. Maybe if he woke up to someone next to him, his mornings would be a hell of a lot better." Your tone insinuates something not-so-innocent.

Your smile falters, realizing you had let an inappropriate joke slip, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that! I shouldn't say things like that - "

"It's quite alright, (Ms./Mr./Mx.) __________. I hear far worse from Tony on a regular basis. And it's actually quite nice to see some more of your personality slip through." He turned his back to you, taking in a deep gulp of water.

You chuckle nervously, "If you're sure, Mr. Rogers. And you can just call me by my first name, like Mr. Stark does."

He tosses a quick smile over his shoulder at you, "And you can call me Steve."

You tense, biting at you bottom lip, "If that is what you wish, Steve." A warm feeling sneaks up on you as you say his name. Why did just saying his name make such a feeling bloom in your chest?

Mr. Ro - Steve went still, which appeared a tad strange, but you decided to not mention it.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, too, Steve?"

He shook his head, still facing away from you, "It's not a coffee kind of morning for me. Thank you, though."

You smiled at his back, then turned to the fresh pot of coffee, "Suit yourself." You filled up three glasses, as per usual, sure that Dr. Banner would probably want a cup, as well.

Finally, he turned back to you, and his voice sounded a bit off, "If you weren't so busy, I would ask you to join me for my morning run. You always have your hands so full."

You felt your face heat up. You looked down at yourself, "I'm, uh," you nervously glanced back up to him, "I'm not really a runner." Is that his subtle and nice way of calling me fat? Of course he'd think that. Who the fuck doesn't?

"A walk, then." He offers a soft grin.

You bite your lip, placing the mugs on the tray, "I suppose that would be nice. It's been pretty hot out, though; I don't really like the heat. And, just as you'd said, I am a rather busy person."

He nods, smile slipping a bit, "Perhaps, something more - "

A loud yawn cuts through the air, a man walking into the lounging area. It's a shirtless Mr. Odinson. You stiffen up, "Good morning, Sir. Did you sleep well?"

He gives you a tired smile, "Yes. I wish I could sleep longer, though."

"I'd have to agree with you there." You look down at the tray, then back to Steve, "It was nice chatting with you, but I'm afraid that I should hurry back to the office. Mr. Stark doesn't exactly like cold coffee, and he's probably fallen asleep at his desk again. I'll see you later!"

You turned away, heading back to Mr. Stark. You could've sworn you heard a light thud and a sharp, hushed voice behind you, but you chose to ignore it and continue on your way.

You groggily step into the office. It was technically your day off, and you'd planned to sleep in, but Mr. Stark called you in for 'an urgent emergency'. Lucky for you, he said you could dress casual and comfortable.

You plop down oh, so gracefully in your desk chair. You let out a heavy sigh, laying your head down on your folded arms on the desktop.

Someone bursts into the room, but you don't budge, "Ah, so you're here! Great!" It's Mr. Stark.

You lift your head, flashing a wide grin, "Morning, Mr. Star - "

"Ah!" He cuts you off, "That's my name only during work hours."

You furrowed your brows at him, "What do you - "

He interrupted you again, "There is no work today. On days like these, it's Tony."

You were quite confused, "But, Sir, if there's no - "

"Tony." He firmly stated, "I know that I called you in on your day off, but I have good reason. You're not here to work; you're here to..." he trailed, carefully choosing his next words, "have some fun."

You blinked, "Fun?" It was spoken as more of a statement than a question.

He laughed, "Yes, fun." He looked you over, "We should get you changed."

You leaned back into the chair, now fully facing him, "Why - I-I didn't - "

He shushed you, "Hush. We're going to get you something nice to wear for the party." He pulled out his phone, typing away.

Your eyes bugged out and you started to sputter, "Party? What party? Mr. - Tony, I can't - "

"You're going." He spoke firmly, "It's part of the job now."

You wanted to question further, wanted to argue, but you didn't want to risk your current position or your relationship with your boss. Instead, you just nod and wait, internally panicking.

He heads for the elevator, motioning for you to follow. With a sigh, you hurry after him.

Now fully dressed and ready in your fancy, new outfit, you glance at yourself in the mirror. The clothing seemed to fit you better than most anything you've ever worn, sculpting to your figure in a... not too unattractive way. You give yourself a small smile, smoothing down the fabric on your chest and stomach.

When shopping, you had made sure to get something that reached the floor and had long sleeves. You didn't want to expose any more skin than you had to.

A loud knock cut through the air from the door behind you, making you jump. You turn to the door, quickly reaching over to open it. Behind the door stood a sharply dressed Tony.

He smiled at you, "You look good."

You look down at yourself, mumbling, "Thanks."

He threw an arm around your lower back, pulling you out of the restroom and into the elevator.

After a few beats of silence, you nervously ask, "How big is this party going to be?"

He shrugged, still smiling, "Don't worry, it shouldn't be that big."

You frowned, brows furrowed. That didn't comfort you in the slightest. The elevator went silent again.

The music grew louder as you approached the party floor. You shifted on your feet anxiously. You weren't a big fan of parties in general, nevermind a Tony Stark party.

The elevator dinged. You bit your lip as Tony lead you out. He continued to smile at you, nudging your shoulder, "Go, have fun - and don't you dare leave." His tone was a tad unnerving.

You simply nod, and he walks away, leaving you alone. You could feel the music, the bass beating in your chest alongside your heart. It was a heavy feeling, but you kind of enjoyed it.

Looking to your left, you see a bar. You cringe. Nope. Definitely not drinking tonight. I get plastered far too easily, then I just end up embarrassing myself. You sigh, and turn to your right, seeing a large crowd of people dancing. A lot of them appeared drunk and they were dancing rather... intamately. You blushed just watching them. You wished you could move like that... That anyone would even want to dance with you in such a fashion... Stop it! Not now! You pinch the back of your hand to scold yourself.

Finally, you move from your spot, stepping forward and officially into the party. You walk around a bit, catching bits and pieces of conversations as you go. You turn your head, eyes meeting glass - a floor-to-ceiling window. You focus on your reflection, then to the city beyond the pane. You walk over to the window. You've never seen the city at night from this high up. Another one of those rare, genuine smiles spreads across your face. Maybe this party wasn't so bad, after all.

You notice something in your peripherals, turning your focus on it. It's a balcony. You thought about how beautiful the city looked, and decided to go get an even better view. You rush over to the surprisingly empty balcony, stepping out into the cool night air. Once the door shut, the music grew quite muffled, and you could listen in on the sounds of the city. The genuine smile lingered as you leant on the railing to peer down at the roads. The height frightens you in the best of ways, chills running down your spine.

You could barely hear the quiet footfalls approaching you. You were so zoned out, lost in the beauty of the city beneath you.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You snap out of it, turning your still smiling face to the person behind you. It's Steve. Your eyes sparkle, "Beautiful, yes, but I would say 'gorgeous'."

He smiled back to you, "I would save that word for prettier sights." There was a hint of... something in his voice, but you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"There are a lot 'prettier sights', huh?" You turn back to the city, "Though, here and now, this has got to be the prettiest."

He now stood beside you, "Now, I wouldn't say that."

You glance over at him, "Why not?"

He remains silent for a few moments before turning back to you and smiling. He holds out his hand, "Care to dance?"

You look to his hand, then back to his eyes, "I can't..." you trailed, "I'm no good at dancing."

He persisted, "All we have to do is sway. How hard can that be?"

You furrowed your brows, glancing to the windows and looking inside. Everyone was dancing wildly, jumping around and grinding against one another. But Steve was suggesting a much different kind of dancing.

"I don't get why people consider that dancing nowadays." he spoke up, grabbing your attention again, "Dancing used to be a whole lot classier."

You chuckled, "Yeah, but at least it seems fun."

He nodded thoughtfully before he continued to persist, "Will you please dance with me?"

You clasp your hands behind your back nervously, "Like I said, I'm not much of a dancer."

"All we'll do is sway." He steps closer, "We'll sway to much quieter music."

You shake you head at him, "What music?"

"You'll hear it if you listen carefully." His grin widens.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. Holding out your hand, you flash him a smile, "Fine, I give. I'll dance with you. But don't complain when I step on your toes." You jokingly warned.

"I'm tough, I can handle it." He pulls you close to him, lifting your hands to his shoulders before placing his on your hips.

You bit back your nervousness, "Oh, so you're taking the lead?"

"I thought you couldn't dance." He started swaying the two of you back and forth at a slow pace.

You chuckled, "Yeah, it'd be a disaster if I lead."

"I doubt that."

You continue to smile, "Your doubts would be incorrect, Steve."

He shifts, pulling you a tad closer. His hands felt a bit heavier on your hips. "All of them?"

You nod, "Yep."

You can see a strange twinkle in his eyes. Suddenly, he's leaning down and placing a soft, slow kiss on your cheek.

As he pulls away, you feel your face heat up, not really sure what to say, "What was that for?"

He ignored your current question, instead responding to your previous one, "The city may be a pretty sight, but I reserve the word 'gorgeous' only for you."

Your breath hitches, heartbeat picking up. You were speechless. Your face grew hotter. You started to panic, quickly deciding to hide your face in his shoulder.

He chuckled, nervousness obvious in his tone, but he continued, "My friends have caught my lingering glances. I don't mean to stare, but I just can't help myself. You are very attractive, there's no denying that."

You shake your head involuntarily.

"You don't think so?"

You kept silent, still.

He pulled you against him, continuing the swaying motion, "I know that I'm being forward. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I'm afraid that if I keep beating around the bush, I'll miss my chance."

"What are you talking about?" You managed to mutter out.

He hesitated, "I want you to be mine."

You pulled back from him, wide-eyed, "What?"

"I-I mean, if you'll have me - " He let you go, taking a step back, panic settling into his eyes, "I'm sorry, I should leave you be, shouldn't I?"

You panic as well, reaching out to grip his upper arm, worried that he'd walk off, "No!"

The both of you stilled.

You recoiled, "I-I mean... no." You spoke softer, "I'm sorry, I just can't really tell if you're serious or not." You try to laugh it off, wrapping your arms around yourself.

His brows furrowed, "Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"Well, uh," you averted your eyes, "if you're constantly the butt-end of a joke, you tend to put up some walls, constantly doubting what others say." You realized that you might have said too much when you look back at him. There was apparent anger in his eyes and frustration embedded into his features.

He steps back over to you, "I wouldn't play with your feelings like that." He clenched his jaw, wrapping his arms back around your waist, holding you gently.

You returned the favor, embracing him.

Another long stretch of silence.

"Why wouldn't I have you?" You blurt out, still doubtful.

He chuckled, "Because I'm sure, as amazing as you are, you could find someone better."

You paused, "So even the Captain America can be insecure." You didn't really mean to say that aloud, but it's already out there, in the open.

"Yeah, believe it or not." He chuckled again, "You have no idea how vulnerable I feel right now."

He seemed to sincere, so honest, it was starting to actually get hard to doubt his words. You let a 'huh' slip from between your lips.

He pulls back, cupping your cheek. He leans forward again, kissing your temple. This action was so gentle and caring, it made you melt. "All I'm asking for is one date. Anything after that is up to you."

You smiled at him, a short laugh escaping you, "So is this our first date?"

He returned the smile, "I would prefer to take you on a proper date." The swaying resumed, and you think you're starting to understand what music he was talking about.

You stood straighter, confidence building, "I'd like to consider this the first."

"And why's that?"

You inhale sharply, "So I can kiss you already."

He stared at you for a moment. Neither of you spoke or moved. When a minute grew into forever, you returned to your panicky self.

Suddenly, he captured your lips against his own, holding you closely. It took you a moment, but you were soon kissing back, gripping at the fabric on his back.

The kiss ended far too soon. His smile reached his eyes, "Done and done."

A laugh fell from your lips, and you were kissing again. It was chaste, but it meant everything to you, "I'm yours."

He pressed you against him, swaying with you at a slightly faster pace, "And I'm yours."

You leaned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. If this wasn't music, you didn't know what was.

Thank you so much for reading! This wasn't super romantic or anything, so I do plan on making a continuation. I don't know why, but I keep writing out these long, slow-burning stories, with endings that don't really feel all that worth it. I promise to spice things up pretty soon. If you have any thoughts, suggestions, or requests, hit me up. I'll make some time just for you.

[fleetwoodmoth]

//Return

The return of one will herald the other

Naos is @jorgancrath‘s

Andal! We need to leave!

We can’t, you can, get out of here, now!

No! Not without you!

Naos get them out.

Andal! Andal don’t-

Osiris!

Calypso jolted awake, their head pounding as radiolaria burned behind their eyes. They could feel Naos stir beside them, alerted by their sudden movement in the bed but their focus wasn’t on her. It was on him. Not the usual him that plagued their dreams of the Infinite Forest or the Pyramidion, no, he was lost in time. Bleeding, dying, living, breathing, it was all different depending on the day. Calypso closed their eyes again and focused on the image that burned their unseeing retinas, he looked… older than they remembered, maybe it was the Forest’s doing, but that wasn’t what interested them. They had never really seen Osiris himself in the Infinite Forest, only his echoes, his duplicates, and even then they always seemed to somehow shirk their gaze. But this, this was different, it was him, whole and human, well as human as a Guardian could be, but outside of that something was deeply wrong. The way he moved, the way he spoke, it was only a flash but they could feel it, the way the vision of Andal’s death… or rather disappearance wavered and warped, like a mirage on desert sand only to split and they had ended up somewhere completely different.

“Calypso, baby what’s wrong?”

Calypso’s head continued to throb painfully, a rhythmic hammering at their temples and behind their eyes that seemed to only get louder.

“Osiris,” they said, their voice so quiet they were unsure if they had actually said anything.

“Osiris? What about Osiris?”

Calypso threw their legs over the edge of the bed, finally letting the room shift back into perspective, the ghosts of their vision having gone dark now, only the purple galaxies of their void sight settling in.

“Somethings wrong, he’s… I can see him,” Calypso said, rising out of bed before wrapping themselves in a gauzy night robe.

“Where are you going? Caly, it’s three in the morning,” Naos’ voice was instantly alarmed yet still groggy, the Titan rising as Calypso hurried off to their study.

Calypso’s study was small but the room was high with lofty ceilings, packed with bookshelves, two floor to ceiling windows on one wall, currently covered by thick maroon curtains with golden embroidery, keeping out the lights of the City below them. Two large wooden desks were the only furniture aside from two matching tall backed chairs which were upholstered in red velvet that matched the curtains. Stacks of books were scattered around, some even creating makeshift side tables with a lapboard as the surface, holding yet more manuscripts and various crystals. They liked to collect things like that, crystals, minerals, rocks, anything from the earth (or other planets) that intrigued them and it was all on display in the study.

Calypso though sought out a small wooden box beneath their writing desk, the one of the two used mostly for charting and copying down information physically instead of digitally. The box itself was hidden back against the wall atop a small footstool height stack of books. They set it on the desk, deft hands easily working at the combination of an enchanted lock. It clicked open a moment later and there sat the small golden vials, all the same size, neatly packed in a dark grey foam insert, the liquid inside black like ichor. They slipped one out, twirling it between their fingers nervously before clicking shut the box and stashing it back under the table. They could see Athena and Flidas both, they hovered near the end of the desk, watching them intently, Athena would have felt Calypso’s distress in their sleep.

“At this hour?” Naos called from the doorway, the tall muscular Titan leaned against the doorframe, arms folded as she watched her partner.

“I can’t… If I wait I may lose him.”

Naos paced over to them, hand finding theirs on the vial.

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be,” Calypso said, their eyes not meeting Naos’.

“No, no. This is important to you, I’ll do whatever you need me to,” she said, pressing a kiss to Calypso’s temple.

They leaned against her, sighing with closed eyes before they withdrew, the small glass vessel held tight to their chest.

“Alright then,” they nodded.

They returned to the bedroom, Naos climbing into bed first, calling Calypso to her lap. This was normal for them, as normal as you could get for this sort of thing; Calypso found a comfortable position between Naos’ legs, their head coming to rest on her chest. They felt her fingers in their hair, gently pulling through the long dark locks as Calypso uncorked the unpleasant little bottle.

“Be careful,” Naos said quietly, pressing a kiss to their forehead.

           They nodded, checking as Athena landed in their own lap before they knocked back the small shot of slimy black liquid. They cringed at the taste and texture, something akin to what a kumquat tasted like if left to rot for a day or two. They set the vial on the bed beside them, fully relaxing into Naos’ arms as the Titan hummed against the crown of their head. It only took a short amount of time before their head was spinning, a strange floating sensation that made their body feel like it was breathing in honey. They felt the slight sting at the back of their head before it traveled forward, everything becoming dimmer as it worked it’s way down their body.

           They opened their eyes again and they were standing upright, their form a strange amalgamation of galaxies and stars, formless and endless yet still contained in one coalescence. This was thanatonautics. They knew they didn’t have time to wander, they needed to focus, and they saw it in the distance, a swirling vortex of time and space and sure enough he was there, traversing a time Calypso wasn’t familiar with. They knew, somehow, that time was growing short there, that soon they’d be shoved back into their body, so they fixated on Osiris, watched his movements and realized he was alone. No Sagira to accompany him and even in their incorporeal form they could feel fear for him spike in their chest. They felt a pull, it was a habit they had developed, like a string to follow back home, but they pushed to stay a little longer. It was then that they… made eye contact? They were sure, sure, that that hadn’t just happened. But then, as everything distorted and they were pulled backwards they were sure they saw him nod.

           Calypso was greeted by the feeling of falling, that breathless panic of plummeting from somewhere high up, a scream caught in their throat before finally like being dunked in a freezing river they snapped up. Their chest heaved, a headache pounding in their temples and their throat feeling as dry as sandpaper. It took them a moment before a glass of water was presented to them. They drank and Naos watched, knowing it always took a moment before they were able to properly speak again.

           “He’s back.” They said with a raspy breath after sipping at the water in front of them.

           “Osiris?” Naos asked.

           Calypso nodded.

           “I know he was your mentor, but what does this have to do with you?”

           Calypso took a second and looked up at Naos, finding her hand with their still shaking one.

           “I think I know how to get Andal back.”

[awashsquid]

tracer, "S/he died 7 years ago"

This is...probably not the expected direction for this prompt, but oh well!  Around 1800 words.  I have one more Ask that I’m working on, but I’m open if others want to send more of these prompts!

Tracer’s dress shoes always squeaked a little, so she usually tookto whistling to distract herself from the jarring sound every time she put downa foot.  She walked down the hallwaydoing just this, the whistling bouncing off of the walls to create an overlappingecho of notes and song, discordantly chaotic enough that she was forced tostop, her shoes squeaking louder for the newfound quietness.  She tugged a little on the hem of her jumper asshe walked, uncomfortable alone in the hushed hall.  The jumper, a slightly scratchy striped woolnumber, was one her Dad had gotten her last year for her birthday, and evenwith the bulky accelerator (now a permanent addition to her wardrobe, much toher chagrin), she thought he’d be happy to see her wearing it.

It was his birthday today, and she thought she’d nip round hishouse and take him for a decent dinner—her treat, of course—since she knew he’dmostly just eaten takeout since Mum had died eight years ago.  She had tried to call and make sure he wasfree on the off chance that he had planned a night out with friends or even adate, but all she heard on the other end of the line was “this number is nolonger in service.”  Something about theautomated tone had sent a shiver up her spine, and she had hung up with adistinct sense of unease.  It waspossible he had gotten a new number and forgotten to tell her, perhaps, andthis unconvincing rationale kept repeating in her mind, in time with her shoessqueaking, as she approached the exit to the base.

Squeak—everything’s fine—squeak—he just forgot—squeak—getting older, more senile—squeak—

“Tracer!” Winston greeted, and she snapped out of her rhythmicworrying with a small jump, realizing that she hadn’t heard her friend approach.  (And considering that her friend was a gorillaweighing several hundred pounds, it was alarming how she had managed to ignorethe sounds of his approach.)  “You’re alldressed up!  Where are you off to?”

“just headed to me Dad’s flat, gonna take ‘im out for ‘is birthday.”  Her voice was chipper as she rocked on herheels, but the anxiety behind it wouldn’t be lost on Winston.  He knew her too well to be fooled by her bestattempts at pretending that all was well.

Winston’s face twitched in displeasure, and suddenly she was awareof just how empty the hallway was, the silence of the base when nothing couldbe heard except for the slight hum of the electronics.  “Did you clear this with Angela?”

She shuffled guiltily from foot to foot, scratching the side of herhead.  “Not exactly…”  Winston looked down the bridge of his glassesin that way he always did when he disapproved of something.  “I mean, she told me I could go out for a bit‘ere and there, and I’ve not been to a proper pub since—” she cut herself off,not sure what to call it: “the accident” sounded too trivial, but “being suckedthrough time in a torturous vortex” was too long and dramatic.  She settled instead for tapping the edge ofher accelerator lightly.  “Well, you know.”

Winston’s gaze softened.  “I won’tstop you.”  Tracer began to thank him,but he continued talking.  “However,” he added, and she groanedaudibly, “I insist on taking you to Angela first.  To make sure that everything is clearedmedically for you to go out.  We don’t wantany malfunctions.”  

Lena shuddered a little as the image of her sitting with her Dadonly to suddenly disappear, screaming, into the nothingness of time itself,maybe never to return.  “All right, Win,”she agreed.  Her voice sounded small inthe cavernous space, and she raised it in false cheer to overcompensate for herunease.  “Let’s off, then!  Don’t want ‘im to be waiting, ‘e can’t stayup too late.”

They reached the medical bay in short time, the large white spaceunnerving after spending so much time here, the scent of antiseptic and latex souringin her nose, making her imagine that decay and death were intermingled in theodor.  The bay was empty save twosleeping patients, so Angela noticed them immediately and walked over to greetthem, her small heels clicking on the tile floor, tapping out a rhythm like thesecond hand of a clock.  “Good afternoon!  What can I do for you two?”

“Tracer needs checked up. She’s planning on going to see her Dadtonight,” Winston intoned, putting an emphasis on the word that made Lena feeluncomfortable in a way she couldn’t quite place.

Angela’s face turned from polite to solemn faster than Lena couldblink (in either sense of the word).  “Oh.  Oh, I see. Yes, I had worried this could be possible.  Lena, I will need you to come with me,please.  Winston, if you would get thefiles we need.”  She put a white-clad armaround a confused and indignant Tracer and steered her towards one of theprivate rooms to the side of the general bay. Winston nodded and headed to the left towards the medical recorddatabase.

“Are you going to tell me just what the bloody ‘ell you think you’redoing?”  Her shouts were probably loud enoughto wake other patients, but she didn’t care. Something was wrong, something was horribly, horribly wrong, and shecouldn’t figure out what.

“I will explain soon, Lena. I think it is best to wait for Winston to rejoin us.”  Angela reached to lift her jumper and takevitals, but Lena twisted away, pinning herself against the wall, the doctorbetween her and the door.

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I am going to blink out of ‘ere, and you won’t be ableto catch me.”

Angela sighed heavily.  “Verywell.  But I think it best if you aresitting down.”

Lena grumpily crossed her arms (with a bit of difficulty, as shehadn’t gotten used to the extra bulk on her chest just yet) and plopped downonto the chair next to the bed; she was too stubborn to sit on the patient’sspot when she didn’t need examined.

“Lena,” Angela began, smoothing down her white coat, erasingwrinkles that were never there, “how much do you recall from when you werechronally disassociated?”

She flinched involuntarily, a shudder tick-tocking its way up thevertebrae of her spine.  “A good bit.”  She remembered the feeling of beingeverywhere and nowhere at once, the noiseless screams that came from a mouththat didn’t feel like hers (maybe wasn’thers, maybe never had been), flashes of events that she was never meant to see,driving her further and further from reality until she had nearly lost sight ofher own timeline.

Angela nodded, urging her to continue.  “Did you see anyone you know during thattime?”

Her mother, washingdishes, pregnant with her, humming tunelessly as she worked.  Winston, a baby gorilla, playing with blocksjust as a human child would.  Hergrandpa, who died before she was born, laughing as he flew a paper plane withher father.  She shook her head to clearthe memories.  “Yes.  Sometimes, anyway.  Nothing was in the right order, so it couldbe ‘ard to tell.”  She raised her eyesdefiantly.  “Why are you asking me thisright now?”

“Because, Lena,” Winston answered as he entered the small room, hisform taking up most of the empty space, “your father died seven years ago.”  He kicked the door shut with his back foot, gentlyenough that it did not slam, but she still heard a loud thud—was that the door, or was that her own heart beating?  Suddenly, she couldn’t quite breathe, hergasps making the accelerator rise and fall, her palms sweating against hertrousers.

“That’s not funny, Win,” she choked out, knowing that her bestfriend would never joke about something like this, but unable to accept what hewas saying.  Angela looked down on herpitifully as her eyes darted back and forth between her captors and the exit;perhaps she could take them by surprise and escape—

Winston sighed deeply, taking off his glasses and rubbing histemples.  “I have proof.”  He inserted a small drive into the room’scomputer and immediately articles began to pop up on the screen.  Each new title made her heart beat a littlefaster, her need to run away increasing. Noted pilot Charles Oxtondied.  Father of Overwatch agent passedaway.  Flashes from her own file,notes from the agency-appointed therapist she had seen—“Patient is in denial.”  “Patient is improving.”  “Patient requests leave to visit gravesite;leave granted with conditions.”

“That’s not possible,” Lena whispered.  The room was too small, the air positivelyreeked of rubbing alcohol, their eyes were watching her closely, and underneathit all, the incessant beating of her heart marched forward, ticking inside herchest like the hand of her father’s watch, fastened to her right wrist—

“Your experience away from the present time most likely disorientedyou, Lena,” Angela intoned in a voice that was meant to be soothing but justmade Tracer want to punch the compassion right out of her placid, agelessface.  “I had suspected that you mayexperience some disassociations from reality. I am sorry that this is one of them.”

“This is rubbish!”  She stoodup abruptly, the chair hitting the wall behind her.  There were tears streaming down her face,dotting her jumper with wet patches.  “I’mgoing to go get ‘im and show the lot of you.”

“Lena, we can’t let you do that.” Winston shifted so that his mass was in front of the door, blocking heronly exit.  “You sold his apartment aftercleaning it out.  There’s no one toretrieve.”

“Win, if you don’t move, I’ll bloody blink right through you, don’tthink I won’t—”

“You can’t blink in the hospital wing,” Angela near-whispered.  Tracer turned on her then, eyes red andfurious.  “It was a safety precaution,”she hastily tried to explain, “in case you tried to blink while injured andagitated your condition.”

“I think I’m bloody well agitated enough, thanks,” she snappedback.  “Win, move out of me way.”

“No.”

“Win, I need to go see my Da, it’s ‘is birthday, now move!”

“No.”

“ ‘e’s not dead, you bloody great gorilla—”

“He is, Lena, I’m so—”

“Then why can’t I remember?”  The question came out as a pained howl.  She smacked the wall with the palm of herhand before slinking to her knees.  “I- Ican’t remember ‘ow ‘e died, or- or when, or wha’ flowers—”  She rose her gaze to meet her friend’s,helpless as a child.  “I can’t rememberit, Win, why can’t I remember burying meown Da?”

“I’m so sorry, Lena,” he whispered, tears in his own eyes.  “I’m so sorry.”  He gathered her into his arms and let her sobinto his fur, her tiny hands clutching onto him tightly.