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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

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This Is New For Me

Loki x Reader

Summary: Life on Asgard can be straining - especially if the God of Mischief has taken a liking to you.

Warnings: Loki being so terrible at flirting it physically hurts, bullying, this got way angstier than I initially intended

Words: ~2800

A/N: I’ve written this trying to distract myself from personal problems, but honestly I can’t think straight rn. Dunno I kinda hate how this turned out but here you go I guess...sorry.

Loki Odinson must really despise you.

No matter how often Thor would stand up for his brother and try to justify his behavior, there was no other explanation for you other than that he must truly hate you with every essence of his being.

In the beginning, having been invited in the palace to train magic under the Allmother sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime chance - yet all that’s left from your initial excitement had been replaced by pure annoyance.

Lately, whenever you knew that you had to attend class with that certain raven-haired prince, your insides would churn before you even arrived.

Weeks have turned into months, never once ceasing his condescending remarks or childish pranks. Of course, he wasn’t called the God of Mischief for nothing.

All nine realms had tales to tell about his sheganinans - yet with you, he seemed especially invested. There was not one encounter where he could leave you at peace, always ending with you being victim to his wicked humor.

The man did not seem to respect you at all - and it made you furious.

Today, you’d show him just what you were capable of!

“Greetings, great Allmother.” Polite as always, you bowed deeply in front of your queen, her magnificent presence still making you jittery beyond belief.

“No need for formalities, my lovely student” she responded heartily, only making you admire her even more - until a loud, exaggerated sigh cut through the calm atmosphere.

“Her again?” There he stood, maintaining his defensive pose as he rolled his eyes at you. “Mother, why would you keep on bringing a lowlife like her to defile this holy place?”

This was probably the millionth time that Frigga apologized deeply for her son’s behavior, and you were always amazed by her patience with him. How could a person so formidable end up raising such a troublemaker?

But then again...if she believes that there is good in the God of Mischief, then so would you.

“For today, I have prepared a spell that can only be cast by two mages at once”, Frigga explained, while Loki would still not bid you a single look. “So throughout this lesson, you will need to work together to succeed.”

Irritation was clearly visible on his face - and if you were perfectly honest, you weren’t really fond of that idea either. Yet if it was your scolar’s wish, none of you would protest.

“Spontaneous creation of complex concepts puts a huge stroll on one’s mind and body, so do not be frustrated if it doesn’t work within the first try.”

The idea was simple: Create a blooming meadow in midst of the palace floor, since creating life would be way too complex - only masters of the sorcery arts could take this spell to completion.

You and Loki were now sitting on the bare floor in front of each other and only now you realized how tense he had become, sweat dripping from his forehead and biting his bottom lip.

Was your presence really so terrible that he couldn’t bear with it?!

“Hey” you whispered, taking his hands to form a ring just as instructed “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this!”

“I don’t need your encouragement...” he spat between gritted teeth, now that you noticed his palms were just as sweaty as his face seemed to be.

One second. Two, tree...fourty....a hundret and two...

“Relax” Loki repeated to himself as if it was his mantra - but now, with your fingers entangled in his? Sheer impossible.

Distraught, he shot his mother a desperate look, just for her to point towards you, sitting cross-legged and seemingly completely relaxed.

Since your eyes were closed, Loki took this chance to observe every detail of your face, without having to fear that you’d notice his little infatuation.

By the norns - you were as fair and bewitching as always. So way, way out of his league. An unreachable, vigorous being. No angel, valkyrie or similar could ever reach up to you - at least in his eyes.

Was this what they called love at first sight? Loki only knew those sentiments from novels he always ridiculed before he got to know you.

Slowly and steadily, Loki aligned his breathing pattern with yours, picturing the cycle of energy the two of you formed. Carefully, he began infusing you with his magic, trying his best to allow yourself do the same to him.

Another minute passed by and you were finally able to let your magic flow through each other’s bodies entirely, like a serene stream.

With things being like this, he felt so different from the Loki you knew.

His magic was strong, indeed - but so gentle, warm and somehow comfortable to be coated with. You wondered-

“HEY!”

As soon as Loki slapped your hand away, breaking the cycle, all of the flowers that had previously bloossomed through you would wither in an instant.

“What the hel do you think you’re doing, you mewling quim?!” Loki shoutet as loud as his lungs allowed him to, while his mother’s face distorted in second-hand-embarrasment at her son’s choice of words. “Who do you think you are?!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-” You only wanted to scan his emotions through the magic bond you shared, just peek under the cover for a mere second - what was he so afraid of you to find?

“Know your place, woman!” The god pointed at you before he rushed up, ignoring the ache in his heart as he saw your face contort in sadness. “You are beneath me, never forget that!”

Why were you even surprised?

“You’re right” you sniveled quietly as you balled a fist in your dress, and Loki hated himself so much that he wished to just disappear. “My apologies. You don’t have to put up with me ever again.”

As always, instead of fighting, you made your leave without ever fighting back.

Frigga’s pleads for you to stay and talk this over were all for naught when you rushed away, muttering curses directed towards youself rather than anyone else.

Instead of scolding her son, she’d punish him through her silence, furiously shaking her head as she rushed away as well.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?!

The God of Mischief was very well aware that whenever you were close, his mind went completely blank - and that made him panic.

Never before he had felt so goddamn vulnerable in front of anything, terrifying him beyond belief.

And Loki loathed that feeling: Losing control over himself, being reminded once again how alone and unloveable he is, facing a goddess as stunning as you are every single day.

So he concluded it to be best to cope like he did all those millenia: Cover up those insecurities, shove his anxieties in the back of his heart and protect his heart from anyone coming close.

Good thing you believed that presumptupus, disoblinging duplicity of his to be his true self.

That would make it easier for the both of you, having as much distance as humanly possible. Vicinity could become dangerous terrain.

Yes, he would only save you some time - it would be a waste if you would try to actually give him a chance, just to be let down by what kind of disappointment he truly was.

But it wouldn’t end here - since the only way Loki Odinson first and only communication was through causing mischief.

A scream of yours startled the servants early in the morning, with your personal maiden being the first to rush to your side.

“Milady, wha-” She stopped in her tracks as she saw you standing in front of the mirror, touching your scalp in disbelief, where everything had been cut short.

That was it. Enough of it!

Dismissing the servants, you took a scissor and tried to at least make an acceptable hairstyle out of the mess he had made, before you would leave to the royal garden.

“You!” Pointing towards Loki, innocently sitting on a bench to watch the sunrise, you screamed and let a strand of hair run from your fingers to the floor. “You did this!”

“Now relax, would you” he chuckled, wearing his smug grin like a trophy as he defendingly held his hands into the air. “You should be grateful, it looks much better like this.”

Next thing he knew was the feeling of your backhand, mercilessly crushing against his collarbone.

Usually, you’d be shocked at yourself, for you had never been a person to choose violence ever before - but right now, you were too full of anger and hurt to even realize.

“You conniving craven pathetic worm!” you exclaimed, breathing heavily as you swung yet another fist towards the prince - however, he grabbed your wrists, trapping you in his hold.

In his life full of wrongdoings, he had been called worse than that - yet still, hearing insults coming from you of all people shot arrows through his heart with every word escaping his lips. Not that he’d ever admit, though.

“It was just a little prank.” Loki would’ve never thought that his actions would affect you this much. “What are you so worked up about?”

“All this time I believed there could be a good person beneath all that...but now what?” The compassion you detected in his eyes were only upsetting you even more. “You are a selfish, cruel and terrible person, and I gave up on you.”

Loki let go off of you, staring at you in disbelief:

You actually believed in him, all this time?! That was impossible!

If anything, the Odinson had always believed you to ignore his existence completely, if he wouldn’t use such drastic measures to attract your attention.

“Wait a second, I-”

“I hope you know that you deserve to be alone...” you sniveled, turning around to face him one last time before you fled the scene. “And you always will be.”

Several minutes had passed until Loki had given up in silencing he voices inside his head that told him you were right: He was indeed a despicable being, tainting your pure goodwill - repelling anyone that would still be willing to give the God of Mischief a chance.

Out of a whim, he jumped up from his place, wanting to rush after you. He was very well aware that he was probably beyond forgiveness by now, yet he at least wanted to make things up to you - even though he had no clue where to start.

“Calm down, Lady Y/N.”

Thor’s voice drang to Loki’s ears just a mere second before he saw that particular heart-wrenching scene unfold in front of him:

You were lying in his brother’s arms, crying to your heart’s extend while soothed you, softly petting what remained from your hair. Loki remained hidden in the shadows, even though his guts told him to stab his brother right here and now.

“My brother...you know-” The God of Thunder was trying to find the right words, even though poetic speeches were not really his forte. “It’s just his speecial, twisted way of interacting. Who knows where he got that from.”

“I rather wonder if he realized how his behavior truly makes me feel” you snapped back, unwilling to keep defending him. “Weak and worthless, that’s how I feell. And every time our ways cross, he’s making it worse!”

By the gods, Loki never wanted to make you feel that way, let alone think such ways about yourself! He of all people, who knew best what its like to feel unfit and nowhere near enough.

Loki grabbed the fabric of his shirt tight, feeling that his heart might burst if he didn’t. It took everything in him to not let out a loud sob and be caught - but then, his brother snapped him out of it with an impossible question:

“Do you still love him?”

“L-Love might not be the right word, I mean-” Lately, you had let Thor in on your secret admiration for his younger brother. “With the way he’s treating me, and all-”

You just couldn’t help being drawn to him against all reason. After everything you had endured, just to be close to him - and he never even acknowledged your feelings.

And still, here you were, crying over a man that didn’t want you.

“Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s voice made you panic, immediately wriggling out of Thor’s embrace. The Odinson understood immediately, nodding towards his brother before leaving the two of you alone.

“Since when have you been standing there?!” Panic dropped to your stomach, wondering just how much he had heared.

“From the very beginning.”

Before you could even think about what to do now, Loki summoned a dagger, cutting off his raven locks in one swift move. “Wha-”

“Please, accept this as means of apology.” The man now dropped to one knee, humbly facing the ground. “I have never intended to make you doubt your most perfect self.”

Frantic, you were scanning his voice, face, anything for the slightest hint of a lie - but nothing. Loki seemed determined and sincere when he looked up to you, hesistantly taking a hold of your hand.

“This is new for me...” he uttered under his breath as his lips graced your knuckles, and only now you realized that he was trembling ever so slightly.

“I-Is that another trick?!”

“What kind of vicious being do you think I am?” Well, after everything he had commited it was only natural of you accusing him. “There are lines not even I do not cross.”

Only for a brief second your heart felt a little bit lighter, as his eyes were locked with yours, lost in this moment you have been waited for so long...

...a little too unexpected, right?

Suddenly, you tugged your hand away, and Loki could only sigh in frustration. Of course it won’t be that easy for him to gain your trust. “I don’t need your pity, Loki...”

No matter how he racked his brain around the matter, he had burdened your shared past probably beyond the point of repair.

That would be his last chance, maybe the last time he’d ever see you again. He was so desperate in his attempt, and yet - what else could he do?

So for the first time in millenias, the God of Mischief decided to speak from the heart for a change:

"Y/N, I-I...As I said, this is new for me, so...” he cleared his throat before continuing, stress literally dropping out of every pore. “From the first day we’ve met, you...I mean...you were the most magnificent being I ever laid eyes upon, and...when I think about it now, I-I may be enarmored with you.”

Your eyes widened at this wholeheartedly confession, a sincere smile playing on his lips in contrast of sole tears running down his face.

Never before you had seen him like that: Flustered, vulnerable, and honest...

“I thought to be unworthy of your affection, so I tried to belittle you, to...I don’t even know. I’ve been told many times I am quite assertive of anyone but myself. I-I mean, I am a mess...I don’t understand my own feelings and thus drive away any chance of happiness, and...how could you ever-?”

“Mhh...” you silenced the man as your lips crushed over his, falling straight into his arms. It took Loki quite a second to fully grasp the situation before deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around you as if you’d disappear if he was to ever let go.

“Y/N...” the prince gasped when your lips parted from that breathtaking kiss - and this time it was you who wore that thug grin on your face.

"Apology accepted” you giggled, just to smother the face of this flabbergasted man in yet another thousand smaller kisses.

This had to be a dream, he thought...and immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him. He did not deserve this in the slightest.

“Now, don’t give me that look.” Cupping Loki’s face in your hands, you gifted him that heartwarming expression he had ignored for so many years, thinking it was not meant for him. “That kiss wiped my memory from everything you’ve done...by now.”

Out of sheer, genuine happiness, Loki leaped from the floor and excitedly swirled you around in his arms.

After another kiss that would kick the air right out of your lungs. the god would peck a more gentle one afterwards, as sweet and tender as no one ever thought he could be.

Even if it’s gonna be a long way, Loki would prove to be worthy of your love.

“Lady Y/N...if you are to believe in me, then I swear I will be on my best behavior from now on!”

"Let's see about that."

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Series #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #God of Mischief #Loki Friggason #Marvel #Disney #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert #Asgard

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mmvalentine · 3 years

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Pomegranate pt 2 | Feysand

Hades/ Persephone inspired AU. Read Part 1 Part 3

Rhys returns to the fields of the Spring Court the next evening. And the next, and the next, and the next, true as the moon rising. He teases and grumbles about it sometimes, but if he's honest, Feyre has become the very best part of his day.

The breeze that ruffles the wildflowers surrounding them is easy and soft, and so is Feyre. She is generous with her touch, letting her fingertips touch his shoulders and stroke in his hair like leaves landing. Rhys can’t get enough. Because it is always Spring, the evenings are balmy and warm, and by nightfall Feyre goes back to the manor on the hill. Feyre likes to tell him that she tires of him, but Rhys realises eventually that she has a curfew.

“Let me come with you,” he says one evening. It’s been a month and Rhys has just made a particularly good bargain: a story for a kiss.

“Okay,” Rhys had said, lying back amongst the flowers. Feyre remains sitting up, and is threading a daisy crown for the High Lord. “I’ll tell you the story about how I met my two brothers, Cassian and Azriel. Hopefully you’ll get to meet them one day.”

Feyre snorted. “Not while my father’s still alive.” Rhys smiled gently and continued.

“When I was a child I was put into an Illyrian training camp, in the heritage of my mother’s family, and the only ones who fit in less than I did were Cass and Az.”

“What’s an Illyrian?” Feyre interrupted.

“A warrior race from the mountains of the Night Court.”

“And your mother was an Illyrian? You look like High Fae.”

Rhys smiled then, and did something that he never thought he’d do. He didn’t know why he felt so at ease with Feyre. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that every time he came to see her here, it was only the two of them in the field, and that made it feel like it was only the two of them in the world.

He rolled onto his stomach, arms folded under his chin, and unfurled his bat-like wings. He spread them lazily and gracefully, and watched her face change from shock to awe to delight as they stretched to be as tall as she where she was sitting.

“Rhys they’re beautiful,” she breathed, reaching one hand forward. Then she pulled back as if remembering herself, and glanced sidelong at him. “May I?” she asked. And again, Rhys surprised himself by nodding his assent. The only time his wings had ever been touched was when they got bruised in a brawl.

Feyre very gently stroked her fingers down his left wing, and Rhys shuddered beneath her touch.

“Sorry,” she said. Rhys’s mouth quirked.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked.

“It… it looked like that wasn’t very comfortable for you. Does it hurt?”

“No it doesn’t hurt,” Rhys laughed, bumping her with the talon at the top of his wing's arch.

She smiled her relief, and stroked him again, and Rhys’s laugh choked off into a moan that had him biting down on his lip. Goosebumps rolled down his arms, and he tried not to let Feyre see how much her touch affected him.

“I’ll take that kiss now,” he said, and before she could argue he rolled around and pulled her into his arms. Feyre landed on his chest and smiled as he kissed her. His wings curled lightly around them both, making her feel even closer. Rhys licked at her lips in askance, and she let him sweep his tongue across hers before she pushed him off, laughing and landing back in the grass with him.

“No,” Feyre says. She places the crown delicately on Rhys's head, and looks pleased with the effect.

Rhys runs a finger from her wrist to the inside of her elbow. “Please let me. I’d love to see where you live.”

“Where I live, or just where I sleep?" Feyre challenges. Rhys flashes her a wicked grin.

“That too.”

“No.”

"I'll owe you a favour."

"You already owe me a favour."

"For what?"

"For making you king of the daisies." Feyre gestures, and the flowers nuzzle their heads against his elbows. Rhys nods magnanimously at them, then fixes his amethyst eyes on Feyre.

“Why not?” he asks softly.

“Because my father would skin you the second you walked through the front door.” Feyre nips the skin of his neck with her teeth to make a point.

Rhys huffs. “My father's been dead over a decade. Old men can hold a grudge.”

Feyre shifts. “It’s not just that. He… he doesn’t like anyone, Rhys. I told you. He’s very protective, and he gets upset when people come too near me. I’m not supposed to cross the forest line.”

“But… we’re on the other side of the forest.”

Now it’s Feyre’s turn to grin. “The flowers miss me," she says. She runs her fingers through the stalks. Then pokes him in the chest. "And they'd miss you too if you were a rug in my father's study."

“Well then come visit me,” Rhys presses. “You’d love it at the Night Court. The stars have as many secrets as the flowers do.”

It's a thought Rhys can't get out of his mind. As long as Feyre stays in this field, she's just a daydream. But then he gets home and nothing feels as real as Feyre does, and he's been sleepwalking through Velaris.

“Rhys.”

“And you could actually meet the people I tell you about.”

“Rhysand.”

“And you wouldn’t have anyone telling you what to do or where to go or who you could see.”

Feyre waits. “Are you done?”

Rhys sighs. “Yeah I’m done.”

“Rhys you know I can’t.”

“I know. Look just… promise me that you’ll come one day, okay? Even if you have to wait till ol’ Tambourine’s dead and buried." He gives her a smile to sweeten the deal. "Promise me you’ll come see the Night Court.”

Feyre's smile is so sad Rhys feels it under his ribs. “And what will you give me, young Kingling?” she asks softly. “What will you offer in return?”

“Everything,” Rhys whispers, much more serious than he had intended. “Anything and everything you want.”

Feyre looks at him with leagues in her eyes, and says, “Just a kiss will do.” And Rhys obliges.

“Do you know,” he tells he between kisses, "every time I kiss you I think I'll feel relieved. But the wanting just gets worse. How are you so soft?”

“How are you so hard?” Feyre asks, then blushes deeply when Rhys gives her a look. “Your chest. I meant your chest, you’re like a solid wall.” Rhys stares at her.

“The latter, because my father too was a glutton for punishment. I’ve trained everyday since I was eight years old.” He traces the shape of her cheekbone, and then her lower lip. “The former, well, for that I blame you.”

Rhys shifts his hips and indeed he is hard all over, from the muscles in his abdomen, and lower. Feyre shivers a little as she feels the press of him between her legs, and her fingers tighten on his shoulders. “So are we friends yet, Feyre darling?” Rhys asks her, the words blowing hot against her lips. Feyre laughs huskily, and the sound makes him twitch under her hips. Now that he has drawn attention to the evident pressure between them, he’s sure Feyre feels it.

“Do you think I do this with my friends?” Feyre asks him, and presses her next kiss under his jaw. Rhys groans and slides his hands around her waist, heels sliding in the grass.

“Probably not?” Rhys gasps, feeling every inch of her body on his.

“Just kidding,” Feyre says. “I don’t have any friends.”

Rhys can’t think of what to say to that. “Kiss me again,” he tells her.

“What will you give me this time?” Feyre asks, still very much on top of him. Rhys stares into her lovely eyes, and tries to see what she’s keeping behind her smile.

“A kiss in return,” he says quietly, because the best way to pay for a kiss is in kind.

Feyre folds her fingers with his, and leans down. And Rhys finds himself thinking that he wants this, of course he wants this, but he does also want to be her friend. That he wants her to have friends.

And then he thinks very little at all because now Feyre is straddling his lap and she’s got her tongue in his mouth and his blood is singing in his veins.

Rhys slides his hands up Feyre’s back and under her hair. He flips them smoothly so that she’s on her back and his wings are flaring, and when he finds her hands again, stalks of flowers brush their entangled fingers. Feyre is liquid and pliant beneath him, and although they’ve kissed dozens of times before, this is something new between them.

"You're making the daisies blush," Feyre whispers, and she looks like an angel beneath him.

Rhys makes a shaky exhale. He is half hungry, and half scared that she’ll push him away at any second. Touching Feyre is like catching a sparrow- sometimes she’s flying so sure and fast he can barely keep up, and other times she’s skittering away from him. He can never be quite sure of her, but then again, he’s rather enjoying the chase.

Feyre’s hands tangle in his hair when he kisses her again. They pull at the roots and Rhys begins to lose it. He’s only got so much careful in him, and if she keeps going like this…

At that moment Rhys is grabbed from behind. Rough hands seize him by the wings and throw him off of Feyre. Rhys hits the ground, then immediately rolls up into a crouch with his teeth bared. He’s already in a rage from the contact with his wings, half feral and looking for his attacker.

He does not expect to see the High Lord of the Spring Court snarling right back at him.

“You little fuck,” Tamlin growls. “You come into my land and assault my daughter. You have exactly three seconds to be gone before I tear you limb from limb.”

“Father!” Feyre says sharply. He rounds on her.

“And you. I gave you very clear instructions on where you are to be at any given time. I’ll deal with you later.” He waves his hand and Feyre is winnowed, with time only to meet Rhys’s eyes before she’s gone.

“Fuck you,” Rhys spits.

“Leave, pup,” Tamlin tells him. “This is my Court and you are in violation of my rules. If I see you again I will kill you, and I will have no qualms about doing so.”

Rhys growls, but he knows Tamlin is right. He can’t attack him in on his own land without starting an all out war. Rhys kicks at the ground savagely, then winnows.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 3 years

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Would you please give me headcanons about how shigadabi caught feeling for each other? Loosely sticking to canon if you can🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

That "loosely sticking to canon" is a little tricky for me. Why? Because in the canon I see them as two guys that find comfort in knowing that someone understands them and they are free to do as they please because the other won't stop them.

This is gonna be a long one and I apologize for it, but I love them so much. I can't help it.

Still, here are my headcanons 😈:

In the beginning, Dabi is never around and when he is, he's being mean and annoying in the background. Shigaraki doesn't tolerate him, but he respects him. Since they met, Shigaraki knew that boy wouldn't stop to achive what he wanted, just like himself.

There was a moment between them, the seed of something. Before the summer camp attack, Shigaraki called Dabi apart so he could set the nomu to respond to his voice and his voice only. You can imagine Shigaraki walking up to him, telling him to follow and Dabi being a piece of trash about it.

Shigaraki them tells him why he's needed out loud and turns around, already walking. The rest of the League complains or comments in the background but Dabi leaves them without a word. He's too busy thinking Tomura must be really stupid to trust him when he barely knows him. Or well he could— He could be smart enough to see through him?

With the years, Dabi has learned to be careful of those guys. He doesn't trust people, no exceptions. He prefers to think Tomura is an idiot.

Being honest, that was the minute Dabi decided he would try to read Tomura. He was he new boss, Dabi was only only being careful. Nothing more.

Let's keep the imaging.

Tomura sits and he unceremoniously calls the nomu, gives him some commands and tells Dabi to use his voice to give him the same commands. They do it a couple of times until Shigaraki is satisfied and Dabi is free to go.

For someone else watching, it was cold and professional. For them, it was kinda weird. There was a little tension than neither of them was acknowledging and there was a quietness, a silence Tomura was used to. It was weird because it felt like they were alone, because they were used to being alone, but somehow they were being alone together— with the freaking nomu. It felt like visiting the vet. Dabi didn't like it.

Time goes by. Things happen.

They have a silent agreement that marks Dabi as one of Shigaraki's commander. He's a special one tho, because apparently he can do whatever the he he wants. He says he's gonna recruit? Tomura approves it with a simple nod and that's it.

Since we have only seen Twice's apartment, I'm assuming here that the rest of the League lived in the bar with Kurogiri and Tomura. Which makes sense because they wouldn't have anywhere else to go.

The only times Shigaraki and Dabi are together is when Dabi occasionally return to their base for whatever reasons. It is loud and crowded so they don't get the chance to interact that much. What they can do is observe the other.

None of them is ashamed of doing it. They stare and stare back. The League plays it off because that's probably two idiots trying to assert dominance or some shit.

It's stupid and they only find out about useless things. What they like to drink, how they walk or react to certain things, what throws them off, what makes them happy... Things you'd know about your classmate.

Their interactions change after what happened in Kamino and the night Magne died.

Dabi was taken by surprise when he saw Tomura walking in. He was calm, collected, even more honest than usual. When he took the hand off his face, the whole room held their breath.

His features were delicate, even beneath all the scars and dry skin. He's eyes were gentle, which was scarier than his maniac look. They held blood and the promise of danger, but not to them. Dabi brushed it off later.

Dabi keeps being his sarcastic self. Shigaraki doesn't react that much. Their barriers are tight closed as ever. Except when...

Well, those nights. The ones they don't talk about. The ones when Dabi is drunk and Tomura is way too sleep deprived and they find themselves insulting the other in hushes. They're normally out of the League's hearing range, alone in some abandoned part of their actual base.

Catching feelings for the other is a good expression. It's like they're catching a cold or something viral by accident. You just have to be in the wrong place at the right time to get yourself infected.

Their minds are blurry and their hearts are feeling raw the first time they interact like that. It's like Dabi is nothing but a young man trying to find his way back home from some bar because he was done with his working week. Or maybe Tomura is a tired student who's been dealing with a lot of stress and it's feeling bare and naked with his hair floating around with the wind.

They look at each other like they always do. Like trying to solve a mystery. Like trying to put together a puzzle. Like trying to decipher a code you shouldn't be worried about, but it distracts you from the world so why not.

Tomura is the one who notices Dabi is bleeding. He points it out. Dabi shrugs and then Tomura just shakes his head and starts walking, Dabi following him, recognizing that face from being a silent command.

For the rest of the night, Dabi teaches Shigaraki how to fix his staples and Shigaraki does so, taking the hand away from his face for better care.

They wonder about the other. How can Tomura know so much about fighting when it looked like he always lived alone? Why was Dabi drinking something stronger than usual? Where his scars always there? Had he patched someone else before? Was Dabi used to other people patching him?

They go to sleep. When they wake up, the only think in their heads is this can't happen again. They got distracted. Distraction means getting softer. That's a no no for them.

Except it happens again. And again. Until it starts happening when they're sober and they know they're screwed. They shouldn't be feeling safe enough with each other to don't feel the need to say something. They shouldn't be on the non-verbal stage. They shouldn't be taking turns what the other sleep to keep guard. Shigaraki shouldn't know where Dabi is most of the time, in case he wants to go and visit him in secret. The League doesn't know where they go most of the time, anyway.

If you're looking for a phrase to prove they have caught feelings for the other, you have no luck. They don't trust words, because most words are lies. But they can't lie when they look into each other's eyes

And against all odds, it changes nothing. No one suspects a thing, no one can sees them. Of course, what is there to see? Nothing at all. Just a king and his commander. Or maybe, just two guys sharing what's not there.

Because there's nothing there. If Dabi craves Tomura's fingers on his back, it's only because he's hurt again. If Tomura longs for waking up to the sound of Dabi's smoking by the window, it's because that means he doesn't have to sleep for a least a while now.

Dabi looks at Tomura across the room and thinks It's like catching a cold. It's gonna go away. A cold won't distract him from his revenge. When the time comes, he won't think about Tomura. And he's right. It's just a cold. Tomura is happy is just a cold too.

Ah, there's a problem, one we know but they forgot. It is too easy to catch a cold. They come back with the season, when we're vulnerable and cold. And if you catch enough colds and you don't cure them properly, it can become something worst. More permanent. More deadly.

For what they want, I hope they're being careful. Sure, they're fine right now, healthy, they talk and laugh and plan and murder. Do they sleep well at night? When they're hearts are freezing and they are too drunk or too sleep deprived, do they still go to each other? When their brains won't stop working, would the miss those nights? Would they wonder? Would they wish? We see only the surface, but beyond their walls...

Are they badly sick? Oh. Are they... Maybe.... No, of course not, but... When no one sees them, when no one talks, when they don't have to be something else, when they can just exists... When the remember their voices echoing in that room, that time, first time alone, just a nomu and their stares...

And sometimes, they'd look into each other's eyes just to make sure they still know how to do it. And they go crazy, becuase they must be doing somethinf wrong.

It is not an I won't see you die under my watch, so don't die until I'm back and it is not an I'll be taking care of myself too, so don't complain and it is not an prove it, come back safe and sound, come back to me.

That's not what they say. That's not what it means.

And still.

Red eyes.

Blue eyes.

And silence.

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studiobeebo · 4 years

Text

aaaand part 2 featuring gojō! thank ya again for the request :) @alibrick1

find part one ft. megumi here!

A - Asking You Out

Satoru Gojō x Fem! Reader

as always if y’all enjoy this please remember that reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

Gojō is convinced that he is god’s gift to humanity and there is nothing that could convince him otherwise.

That being said, even since he was young, there weren’t really many people that tried to convince him otherwise, he was often pandered to either for his power, his looks, or both so while he may not entirely be a narcissist, he certainly doesn’t have any self esteem issues.

Of course along with the general praise he got, as he got older, he began to gain significantly more romantic and/or sexual attention from others and there was hardly a place he could go without feeling eyes on him, hell he could have had a record breaking collection of phone numbers that had been slipped to him over the years if he had actually bothered to keep any of them, yet very few of them ever caught his eye.

If they did, it was more out of a sense of him needing, to put it plainly, a quick fuck for some stress relief or fun and not someone he had much intention of keeping in contact with. He didn’t have time for stuff like that anyways and he figured if he did find someone worth his while, he would make time.

Well, now he was making time.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately for you, you had peaked his interest almost from the moment he met you, though he didn’t start really considering the idea of being with you until much more recently. When he did though, he made it very clear.

His flirting was almost constant whenever you were around and actually, he asked you out on quite a few dates because asking was never the problem. He was a simple man, if he wanted something, he would go for it, so he was never nervous or hesitant about his intentions. You, on the other hand, weren’t quite the same.

The handful of times you had turned him down weren’t because you didn’t like him, in fact you did like him, too much for your own good in your eyes. You didn’t misinterpret his intentions or think he was lying, if he only wanted to get into your pants then he would have said so, so you believed he genuinely wanted to get to know you better, but that wasn’t really the problem.

The problem was that you couldn’t grasp Gojō and the reality was that you would never be able to do so. What he saw and knew of the world was so beyond anything you could even begin to comprehend, he saw and understood things that no one else could. He was leagues away from you in that sense and for some reason, you really hated that idea. You would always be beneath him in a sense, your naivety may have even been endearing to him for all you knew, so you put your foot down and told him ‘no’ many times, convinced that it would be better not to risk anything or even try.

He had an idea of your thought process, but surprisingly enough, that was something he didn’t quite know how to navigate. He was the best, after all, and being the best was often lonely. He would never expect you to be able to understand everything he did, in fact he really couldn’t care less about that difference between the two of you. He liked you and you were someone who made his time on earth worth enjoying, it was that simple for him, but he didn’t know where he could begin to convince you of the same, to just let go of inhibitions and trust that he just wanted to enjoy his time with someone he had developed feelings for.

Because of this, for a long time things stayed the same between the two of you, both of you knowing about the others feelings, yet nothing really coming of it. He’d ask you out, you’d say no, then back to business as usual. It got to a point where he was actually getting a bit frustrated because he knew you felt the same for him and yet he couldn’t get past whatever wall you had built up to keep him out. It frustrated him enough that he began complaining to Nanami about it, something he did painfully often much to Nanami’s dismay, but despite being younger than Gojō, he had to admit that he had some solid advice.

He suggested that he stop asking you out on dates, which at first just made Gojō groan in annoyance, but Nanami was quick to explain that what he meant was that he should stop putting the idea in a romantic context and instead make it seem like nothing more than two colleagues hanging out. Gojō thought about it for a second, which was much longer than he usually thought things like this through, before giving a thankful pat on the shoulder and going off on his way.

He didn’t intend to waste time and as far as he knew, you were probably making dinner for the first years, something you usually did on Friday evenings to give them time to relax after a week’s worth of training and missions. So that’s where he went, paying little mind to his students who sat around in the commons area arguing over this or that as they usually did and instead making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Yo, (Y/N).~”

You immediately jumped, your mind having been preoccupied with cutting up some vegetables for curry before turning around to glare at the man who had so kindly interrupted your daydreaming.

“I could have sliced my finger off you know.” “Yeah? You’d really do anything to get my attention, hm?”

You simply rolled your eyes and stifled a laugh, returning your focus to what you were doing, but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you from his place leaning against the doorframe.

“Can I help you or do you intend to stare all evening?” You questioned, turning your back to gently pour your vegetables into the hot skillet you had waiting on the stovetop.

“Was going to ask you to go out for drinks with me once you’re done coddling my students.”

You stopped for a moment, letting out a sigh as you fiddled around with the now sizzling veggies.

“Are we really going to keep going through this or-“ “Ahh, don’t be like that, I’m not asking you out on a date. Just wanted to hang out, that’s all. As friends.” He replied, raising his hands defensively as you turned to face him with your hands on your hips.

That caused you to raise an eyebrow skeptically as you searched his face, trying to figure out what he was doing. Of course you were just about to nag him about knocking it off with the faux romancing, but you didn’t expect him to actually do so.

“As friends?” You replied flatly.

“What, is that too generous? Fine then, as ‘coworkers-that-are-on-good-terms’.”

You laughed, knowing he knew damn well that wasn’t what you meant and he couldn’t help but smile, it always made him a little giddy when he could coax that cute laughter out of you without you holding back.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I’ll go with you.” You hummed, turning back around to focus on the task at hand. If he was ready to cut his losses and settle for the weird in between thing that the two of you had going on, you were more than happy to oblige. Oh, if only you knew that there was no way in hell your resilience would last, but that’s a different thought for a later time.

“Great!” He said with a clap of his hands. “Then as a friend I’m obligated to tell you that I have no intention of paying for any of your drinks. Or a cab if you get wasted. Since, yknow, it’s not like we’re together. That would be gross. See ya.~”

With that he was gone, a grin on his face that he wasn’t even going to bother trying to hide as his pride was bolstered almost instantly and his excitement over the simple prospect of getting drinks with you had him feeling like a teenager again. To be honest, you were feeling much the same as you blamed the heat that fanned your cheeks on the steaminess of the kitchen. You couldn’t, however, blame the smile that spread across your face on anything of the sort, but for now you were fine with chalking it up to the fact that you were just excited to be going out for once and definitely not thrilled to spend time with someone who was nothing more than a ‘friend’. Maybe a small part of you knew this would happen one day and your resolve to deny him would falter, but like you had thought before, that was simply another problem for another time.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #bee writes #alphabet requests #gojo satoru #satoru gojo

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mirrerover · 4 years

Text

High on the Fumes

“Straying a bit far from the nest, Dickiebird,” Jason says. He’s got one hand shoving his mask back up into his hood, revealing just his mouth and the sharp line of his jaw, while the other digs in the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing for cigarettes. A beaten-up carton gets waved in Dick’s general direction, offering a cigarette Dick never accepts. Not like this. Not in the Nightwing suit, at least.

They’re currently overlooking Crime Alley, seated on the edge of the roof, legs dangling off the side. Jason hadn’t seemed surprised when Dick had dropped down next to him on the ledge. But Red Hood wouldn’t be Red Hood if Jason didn’t know the coming and goings of the various vigilantes creeping on Gotham's rooftops at night.

“Ran out of bad guys my side of the pond,” Dick says in the easy way he says lots of things. The patented Grayson charm. “What can I say—I’m just that good.”

That actually pulls a laugh out of Jason. A genuine one. One that has his mouth stretched apart in a smile that makes Dick think beautiful.

“No criminals in Blüdhaven. I knew moonlighting as a police officer would be bad for you. Six months on the job and they’ve already got you on their payroll.”

“Thought you’d be proud of me for lasting as long as I did.”

“Sure thing, Princess.” There’s a fancy Zippo in his hand now, one Dick has never seen before, lighting the first cigarette of plenty to come. Dick wonders if Jason lifted it off some crook he left for dead. “You probably broke some departmental records. Most Blüdhaven cops are on the take before they’ve even stepped off Academy grounds.”

Dick chuckles the way you chuckle when watching your own house burn down to ashes, all your mortal possessions still inside. Blüdhaven is a corrupt cesspool with no fast and easy fix. Maybe not even a slow and difficult one—and she’s all Dick's. He stuffs the thought somewhere deep and hidden and eagerly shifts his eyes to Jason so he can forget. Just for a while.

It’s hard to read Jason’s face, hidden in the shadows of his hood, but the body language is clear; no apparent stiffness or major sore spots. Jason looks relaxed, if not a little tired, fingers nimble when they lift the cigarette to his lips. So the bloodstains aren’t his own.

“Slow night?”

Jason shrugs. “Petty criminals, mostly.” His lips tighten into a harsh line. “Some creep who thought he could set up shop and play pimp. Fuck that. My girls work for themselves.”

His girls. And that, Dick thinks, is the difference between Bruce and Jason. Bruce has his villains, his meta humans, and when that well runs dry there’s the League. A galaxy full of nemeses for him to fight. Big players and even bigger stakes. Abstract concepts of freedom and peace, and the liberty of dealing in absolutes. Jason has his people. The concrete reality of kids not being cornered by predators and sex workers keeping money in their own pockets. And his people love him. Prefer the Red Hood taking an iron pipe to the face of their abusive ex-husband, their kid’s drug dealer, or the rapist next-door, to the untouchable Bat Symbol high up in the sky.

Maybe Dick’s been staring too hard or maybe Jason can tell he’s thinking of Bruce because the next time he speaks, he’s extra crass: “I need a cock so far up my ass I’ll be seeing stars, a good meal, and a shower with better water pressure than the usual geriatric-taking-their-midnight-piss nonsense that’s rife this side of the city.” He sucks long and hard on the cigarette, posture thoughtful, before releasing the smoke in a slow exhale. “Not necessarily in that order.”

Dick snorts. Maybe there’s more than just the one big difference. “That really something you wanna yell off the rooftops? Thought you were some big bad crime lord.”

“The fuck's that s'posed to mean, Big Bird?” Some might assume that toting around eight severed heads in a duffle bag once would make it hard to take the moral high ground on anything. Dick knows for a fact that Jason doesn’t really give a shit about either morals or the high ground but it doesn’t stop him from taking both and making them his bitch. “Think I’m weak for taking it up the ass? How ‘bout you dial back on the homophobia, you bigoted prick.”

It might be more impressive if Dick was a little less familiar with Jason and his rage. Jason doesn’t settle his actual grievances with his words. This is foreplay.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Little Wing. Got the best thighs this side of the equator. Ain’t nobody calling you weak, babe.”

“Don’t you forget it, asshole.”

Dick hums, lowering himself onto his back, arms stretched high above his head. There’s a weird serenity to being verbally abused by Jason as the Eastern sky is starting to brighten. The sound from the street feels distant and Jason feels so close, their thighs mere inches apart. When Dick lets his head rest on his arm, Jason’s broad shoulders fill up half his vision and he knows if he buries his nose between his shoulder blades it’ll smell of leather and smoke and sweat.

Jason twists his torso towards him. “Were you even listening, Fingerstripes? Just told you I want a cock up my ass before the night is through. Need me to grab a pen and a piece of paper and spell it out for you?” Jason gives a depreciating grunt. “And Daddy dares to say that you’re the smart one.”

“Jesus, Hood,” Dick teases. “Can’t tell if you’re trying to go for seductive or insulting.”

“Shows how shit your instincts are. I’m doing both. You turned on yet?”

Dick shrugs good-naturedly, arches his back and gives Jason the Grayson smile, blinding, crooked, winning. “Little bit.”

There’s another laugh, another smile. Another beautiful in Dick’s head. Then Jason’s lying down beside him, shoulders brushing, and voice bleeding a warm: “thought you would be, you big slut.”

When Jason finishes his cigarette he kills what’s left of it on the concrete. Wordlessly lights another. The new Zippo burns big and bright.

Dick lowers one arm, carefully drags his fingers across the busted knuckles of the hand holding the lighter. Sometimes, those hands will leave red streaks on Dick’s skin and Dick won’t know if the person it came from is still a person at all. And he thinks Jason painting him with blood should probably bother him more than it does. But it’s hard sometimes, between the night job and the day job and the things he sees during both. Between Bruce, who puts principles before people, and Jason, who puts people before Bruce, is Dick, who doesn’t want to choose between either, who wants to have both—but let’s Jason mark him up with the blood from Gotham’s criminals, anyway. So, maybe he’s made his choice.

"Make me a coffee tomorrow morning," Dick says, Jason's hand warm beneath his own. "With those fancy beans. From that specialty shop where they roast and grind the beans on the spot and you watch them like a hawk 'cause you're both anal and a snob."

"Just the coffee?"

"Just the coffee."

"You're one cheap fucking lay, Boy Blunder."

“Only for you,” Dick says. "The Bat family discount.” Dick wonders if there’s a little something special in those cigarettes when that doesn’t get him punted off the roof immediately. The vicious elbow stab to the gut seems rather mellow.

“Asshole,” Jason murmurs under his breath. The vitriol dripping off that single word makes Dick honest-to-God giggle, chest feeling light like flying.

He thinks they’ll stay here a little longer. Maybe one or two more cigarettes—all Jason. Dick will smoke after. After the sex, and the shower and the sleeping and the coffee. Long after the morning is gone. When Dick has been stripped of his suit for hours and Jason the same for his mask and guns. Then Dick will sit naked in the afternoon sun on Jason’s windowsill, grab that Zippo and smoke.

One cigarette. Just then.

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

@wethatake I wrote a thing. Can you believe it? I sure can’t

#jaydick #jaydick fanfic #jason Todd #Dick Grayson #mirre writes

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certifiedceraunophile · 3 years

Note

For the Would You Ever Write ask, because I want to see your angry/controversial opinions: would you ever write AU/AH? Klaus can't be a criminal. They have to both be normal people. He can't stab or eat anyone. (And if you would write this, what would the set-up be?) Also, because I know the answer, but I want to see you foam at the mouth: would you ever, under any circumstances, write Caroline as meek?

Firs of all. It’s 9 fucking am in the morning and I hope you’re happy that the first thing I did today was curse your cursed name; I went: Jenn. That Fucking Bitch.

But anyway, Here’s the thing: I actually have this one very specific AH/AU where Klaus and Caroline are Not Murder-y. W i l d as shit I know, I’m entirely sure you’re disappointed in me. BUT! it’s like this very very very Niche trope that I will actually K I L L for.

I have an unhealthy like truly unhealthy obsession with football players [not the bs American kind, get the game’s name out of your damn mouth] but Actual football, like I cannot explain it, I was actually texting Kelly a while ago about how Football players are just a separate brand of HOTNESS, And we’ve both come to the conclusion that like it’s definitely some primal response that makes them so attractive to me, and like evolution of all things is the only thing that can explain why I go feral for them lmfao, and also Ted Lasso [a show entirely about a football club] is my favourite fucking show atm so all of that combined, I would literally die and kill for a Football AU with Klaus as a big mean arrogant and temperamental football captain playing for one of the giants in the premier league and then Caroline comes along and he like trips down the metaphorical stairs of life and falls face first for her when Caroline is like being her usual snarky mostly tactless borderline bitchy sunshine self, basically Caroline is mean to him and Klaus melts. She does not hold back on letting him know what an absolute jerk he is and Klaus is like “well problem is sweetheart, I want to be your jerk” lmao. Like I imagine Enzo is part of the team and is the biggest lil shit and Caroline and Enzo hit it off as besties and Klaus is just F u m i n g in the sidelines and is like constantly growling beneath his breath about how men who are, biologically speaking, more closely related to the domestic canine species than most people should not have the right to breathe in the same air as His Angelic Caroline.

OH and Caroline is the team’s sweetheart and hypewomen, I’m thinking she does PR for them, but basically she’s loved by all [as is law] and Klaus really reallly grapples with his cavemen tendencies to just throw her over his shoulder and go around growling Mine.

aaaaaaand at one point, in the future, Klaus wants his last name in the jersey changed to FORBES lmao if you know what I mean.

So basically yeah this is the only AH/AU I will write myself where Klaus can’t like Kill and have tea parties with the dead bodies, and it is a Sacrifice I am willing to make only for this one AU because the sizzling Hotness of a Football Player™ is just goddamn irresistible GAH.

Like I’ll be honest, excluding the above AU, I think the best I could do AH/AU wise where Klaus can’t be murder-y will still be a Crime AU, like he’ll have to At Least be a Pretentious Brilliant Thief or Conman or some sort of criminal who maybe doesnt kill but like he HAS to be a Bad Guy™, I mean I can’t possibly imagine myself writing an AU where he isnt criminally fucking shit up as is his calling on Earth.

THAT BEING SAID I LOVE READING HUMAN AU’S WHERE HE’S LIKE NORMAL AND NOT MURDER-Y AND AM GRANDLY ENETRATINED BY THEM, IT’S JUST THAT I DONT HAVE THE TALENT TO WRITE THEM MYSELF AND ALSO MAKE EM INTERESTING BECAUSE MY INTERESTS AND TALENTS LIE IN MAKING HIM AS LOVABLY DEPLORABLE AS POSSIBLE.

And now as for meek Caroline. putting this under a cut cuz this shit gets violent.

You’re such a Bitch.

OHMYGOD do you *want* me to go off? do you want me to sit here and yell about all the different torture techniques I will sit through before writing three words that may or may not compound to portray Caroline as this Person who is like Pure [gag] sweet [gag] Do No Bad [gag] and will take all the categorically terrible shit thrown her way cuz that is Grace™, because Lemme tell you I’d rather fling myself into the sun or choke on petroleum before doing that.

ALSO BEFORE EMBARKING ON THIS RANT I WOULD JUST LIKE TO SAY THESE ARE JUST *MY* OPINIONS THESE ARE BY NO MEANS THE TRUTH OR THE ONLY VALID SET OF OPINIONS; I DONT CLAIM THEM TO BE SO, SO PLEASE DONT ASSUME THIS IS AN ATTACK ON ANYONE WHO HAS A DIFFERENT SET OF OPINIONS WHICH WILL ALWAYS BE JUST AS VALID AS MINE.

Now with that out of they way:

If you write Caroline in a naturally violent/ high stakes/ Dangerous AU where Caroline herself is understandably allowed to be violent, and her immediate response to being wronged isnt Fire and Fury and Vengeance in a stunningly calculated and shrewd fashion, honey sorry to say you’re doing it wrong. Like if Caroline is wronged by Anyone, she will pay them back in kind and she will Not be holding back her punches.

Caroline takes no shit, from anyone but like least of all from Klaus, and if he fucks up even just once (1) there is no going back Until Caroline has exhausted every last drop of Anger in her.

Like I simply don’t get how a Caroline who is meek and forgiving and accepting of other people’s wrongs against her can exist? LIKE SHE’S A WHOLEASS BITCH IF YOU HAVENT NOTICED AND SHE’S GONNA TURN AROUND AND FUCK SHIT UP FOR YOU. I cannot understand how Caroline can be written as someone who just conveniently rolls over and takes shit? I mean omg any response to being severely wronged that isnt an immediate thirst for blood, or at the very least, ANGER within Caroline is, as viewed by me, pathetic. Like I’ve read soo many fics [was even forced to read one against my will so my saltiness to an extent, regarding this subject, is valid] where Caroline is supposedly this pure Good Girl™ person who can do no wrong and take no revenge, because vengeance and anger is not only beneath her but reacting violently [aka appropriately] to her being Grossly Wronged would somehow taint the ✨light✨ in her, and now folks We Do Not Want That, because HOW IMPORTANT IS A WOMEN’S LIGHT!!! You gotta be pure Saintly white in all your doings to be able to shine like an LED bulb!!! which btw is a super valid goal you can have!!! Because somehow when Rihanna said “Shine Bright like a Diamond” in the fine print under the Terms and Conditions section it was Clearly stated: Only applicable if a terribly wronged women denounces murder, revenge, vengeance, anger, blood thirst and everything else fun and happy that makes life worth living in the name of Retaining her ~~purity~~

LIKE HONEY STFU AND LET SOME HEADS ROLL.

Like a Meek Caroline can be written a hundred different ways and all those hundred different ways infuriate me like hell but there are two instances that make me violently froth at the mouth:

One is when people are out here writing Caroline being wronged so G R A V E L Y by Klaus and her response to this is somehow: He’s a Dark Man, I’ve known this All along especially before letting him make Me the final resting place for his dick! so honestly speaking W h o ‘s fault is it?? like omg I wanna bite and chew paper when I see bs like this.

And the other is when it isnt Klaus wronging her and someone else being a bitch I’ve seen ff’s do something Even Worse and get Caroline to outsource the revenge taking part of business to Klaus LIKE TF DOES KLAUS LOOK LIKE, an Indian?? [listen I’m allowed these racist jokes bc I’m Indian] Like BABE NO put that knife back in Caroline’s hands let her stab who ever she wants herself!

And also the idea of Caroline being generally meek, regardless of being wronged, is like huh??? to me, no like seriously did we watch the same show??? this girl literally Bullies Klaus and Klaus melts for her, that is like their whole dynamic, she’s mean as shit to the BIG BAD VIOLENT ALMOST GODLY POWERFUL WOLF and he’s like That One....that’s the Woman I want to spend the rest of eternity with. There isnt even One (1) Canon scene where Caroline lets Klaus get away with his BS, each time every time she holds him accountable and let’s him know what a bitch he is, AND KLAUS LOVES THAT [well not exactly but that’s one of the things that makes Caroline so irresistible to him], So honestly w h o are you doing favours by writing Caroline as someone who just looks at Klaus being a Giant Jerk and goes, it’s ok baby I understand :))))))

But also Caroline in general is a sassy bitch through out the show, like forget Klaus, just by herself she’s mean and catty much like Rebekah or Katherine, Sure she is an adorable sunshine baby who is kind and loving to the people she cares about, is loyal with the strength of the Himalayas and takes it upon herself to pour her love without any restraint over anyone she decides to commit to either platonically or romantically, but like this why we have multifaceted female characters who are bitches while being good lovable people too man. Like honestly fics where Klaus falls for Caroline bc she’s characterized as pure and good and kind or whatever 2-D bullshit makes no sense to me.

ok so I’ve rambled on a lot but tldr: IF CAROLINE AINT OUT HERE GRABBING MEN BY THE BALLS AND TWISTING THEM LIKE DOORKNOBS FOR BEING JERKS as brought to you by Wherewith to Sate It’s Malice by Jenn RIGHT FROM THE GET-GO [Like I remember Caroline doing that to Klaus during their meet cute lmao because he barged in to her place and was being his usual arrogant dick self] THEN I DON’T WANT IT.

lmao But also if making Caroline forgiving and small is your thing, you do you babe, just make sure to tag it as Caroline is Everyone’s Lil Bitch on ao3 so I can stay tf away from it.

but ok ok all jokes aside, please if I offended anyone with this post and if some author reads this and thinks it’s directed at them please know it isnt, [it most definitely isnt like I assure you] it’s just me airing my opinions that are as valid as ones that are directly opposite to mine, regarding the subject, and I mean no harm by this post. so please dont be mad lmao.

#You really want me to out myself as a bitch with my violent opinions dont you jenn #lmfao that's ok this is me and i think i'm valid #but also for the record i do have A TON of feel good completely AH/AU plotbunnies with Klaus and Caroline as Rockstars and shit that #I LOVE THINKING ABOUT #And I honestly enjoy reading these AU'S soooooo much #when written by other authors #it's just that I can't write them cuz theyre not exactly my writing wheelhouse #but as far as reading them goes I LOVE IT #OH ALSO I STARTED WRITING THE RESPONSE TO THIS DAY YOU SENT IT BUT ONLY JUST FINISHED IT TODAY LMAO SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY #also listen i know i barely make sense in this post but i dont need to cuz this is a chaotic unfiltered rant and not a meta #so don't judge #Also please keep in mind that when I campaign for the vengeful violent rights of my dearest sunshine baby caroline I'm doing so within the #context of her being present in an au where canon typical violence is the norm #not when she's a barista in a coffeeshop lmao #although i would Kill to have a fic where Caroline runs a coffeeshop and poisons her customers when they're being mean to people who work #in the food industry

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years

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Square One

Of all the tropes I love the most in fanfiction, single parent au’s are at the top but they are few and far between. I took matters into my own hands here. IDK how many chapters this will be to be perfectly honest. IDK how consistent I’ll be on updates, so prompts are always welcome for this fic or just in general too. Enjoy. Based on characters from the Throne of Glass Series

An Elorcan fic

Warnings: None

A warm breeze billowed around Lorcan Salvaterre as he got out of his weary old truck. The door creaked loudly as he slammed it shut and moved through the parking lot of Riftfold Elementary School.

As he popped the collar of his jacket, Lorcan muttered a curse. The last thing he wanted to deal with was picking up his son early from school. It wasn’t that Lorcan didn’t love his son and was eager to see him. But the circumstances were less than ideal.

Running a hand through his hair, Lorcan entered the front office of the school to find his son slumped down low in a chair. His son was distinctly looking away from everyone. Especially the girl beside him. At six years old, his son had too much attitude for his own good and Lorcan wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it. Tavish, unfortunately, was more like him than Lorcan wanted to admit. He had the same black hair, same broody temperament, same penchant to get into trouble.

Really, Lorcan shouldn’t have been surprised his son had ended up in the principal’s office in just the second week of school. It was a miracle that Tavish had made it this long.

It was of course Lorcan's fault too. He didn’t know how to be a father and it showed.

Principle Havilliard, who had to be at least three years younger than Lorcan stepped from his office. He was dressed in a blue button up and slacks looking far more pleased about the day than anyone should.

“Lorcan, thanks for making it so quick,” Dorian said. He extended a hand, which Lorcan shook hesitantly. The two were barely acquaintances and if Lorcan was being honest was fine with that. “We’re still waiting for Marion’s mom.”

Lorcan glanced at the girl and froze. Another curse rose on his lips. He knew exactly who the girl was and who her mother was. Marion had her mother's large brown eyes and thick dark hair and pale skin. Despite the serious expression in her eyes she seemed like a sweet girl. As far as Lorcan could remember, Tavish hadn’t had any issues with her before.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” a woman burst into the office. She was small, her dark hair swept into a messy bun. She still wore a black apron slung on her hips, a myriad of pens and straws sticking out from the pockets.

“Hey Elide,” Dorian greeted.

She shook his hand and offered another apology before her eyes landed on Lorcan.

Elide Lochan was an enigma. She was smart and capable with a silver tongue of fire. And yet, Lorcan never knew for sure what she was thinking. He didn’t really know how she ended up barreling into his life but he did know neither of them were comfortable with the other.

At least she managed a slight smile in his direction before she glanced anxiously to her daughter. Marion quickly became invested in her shoes. Lorcan felt his gut drop when he got a good look at the woman and he realized that he knew who she was.

“What happened?” Elide asked. She only spared a brief look to Lorcan before turning away. It was easy to see the discomfort in her eyes. Not unexpected. Lorcan was nearly six-foot-seven, built to play football and had plenty of scars from a rough childhood. He wasn’t the kindest looking man.

Dorian sighed and stuffed his hands in his back pockets. “Marion? Would you like to start?”

“She’ll tell it wrong!” Tavish exclaimed. He finally unwound himself from his seat and sat up. His hair fell in his eyes but he hastily brushed it away. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Marion shrank back into her seat, finally looking at her mother.

“Tavish,” Lorcan warned, “Principal Havilliard asked Marion to speak.”

His son sighed far too loudly and flung himself backward into the chair.

“It’s okay, baby,” Elide said softly as she knelt next to her daughter's chair and patted her knee gently. "Tell me what happened."

Lorcan watched the girl sit forward in her chair, instinctively leaning towards her mother.

"They took my stuffed animal," Marion said.

It was then that noticed the small plush dog clutched beneath Marion's arm. Elide let out a long breath.

"And?"

"They threw it in the mud." Tears began running down Marion's cheeks. "I asked them not to, I used my words like you said."

"I know baby," Elise whispered. Lorcan could see the sorrow and pain flash across the young mother's face. He'd never officially met Elide Lochan before. Only once and Lorcan had made himself look like a bigger ass than usual.

"Tavish told them not to," Marion added. "But they didn't listen."

Tavish sat up a little straighter at Marion's admission, slight pride on his face.

"They were being really mean," the boy said. "And we're not supposed to be mean. Even though you brought a stuffed animal to school."

"It was for show and tell!"

"You're supposed to bring something cool like a rock or a worm."

Marion made a face and shook her head rapidly. “Ew.”

While Tavish threw his hands up in an exasperated sort of way, Lorcan noticed the small smile flash on Elide’s face as she stood. She was young, younger than Lorcan had initially realized, but that didn’t seem to change the hard resolve she held on to.

“So, what’s the plan Dorian?” Elide asked. “It doesn’t seem like they actually have a problem with each other.”

Lorcan tried not to react to the casual way Elide spoke the principal's name. Of course she knew him. If Elide Lochan was friends with the same people Lorcan knew--she would know Dorian.

“Right,” Dorian said, clearing his throat. “Let's go into my office for this. Candice can watch the kids for a minute.”

The receptionist gave a little wave from behind her desk and brandished a few coloring books and crayons. This wasn’t good.

Lorcan glanced at Tavish who did not seem pleased with the arrangement. But the only other option was to take his kid and run. Which admittedly would not reflect well on him.

It seemed Elide held the same reservations as she wound her fingers together. She ultimately agreed with a nod and untied the apron from her waist and folded it the best she could while following Dorian into his office.

Once the door was shut and they were all settled in their seats, Dorian spoke.

“I don’t really know how to say this,” the young man said leaning forward slightly, “but from what Mrs. Talon has said both Marion and Tavish struggle with making friends.”

Lorcan was glad he wasn’t the only one who winced. Beside him, Elide pursed her lips as she stared at the principal.

“They would both benefit from having someone to talk to in and outside of class,” Dorian continued, “and I think they could potentially get along pretty well.”

“Really?” Elide asked. She crinkled her nose and jutted her thumb at Lorcan. “Because I hate him.”

“You know the fourth of July thing wasn’t my fault,” Lorcan said with a glare.

“Oh do I?”

“Please Lochan.”

“You’re just mad because the girls soccer team kicked ass this summer.”

“If I remember correctly, you did a lot of heavy flirting with the refs all summer long.”

Her dark brown eyes bore into him with enough intensity that Lorcan was sure he would combust.

“Seriously?” Dorian asked. He had a slightly bemused expression on his face as he glanced between the two of them. “Maybe I should assign the two of you as buddies for the school year.”

“No.” Lorcan and Elide said at the same time.

Dorian grinned. “Fine. But I do think you two should make an effort in seeing if Tavish and Marion can be friends. It might make them do better in class and stay out of trouble.”

Lorcan loosed a breath. He wanted what was best for his son. He also knew that his son, like him, struggled with basic human interaction sometimes. And if this would help Tavish bridge gaps in how he interacted with other kids--well it was something Lorcan would see to.

“We can try,” Elide said finally. She ran a hand through her ponytail, trying to keep the loose tendrils under control.

“Sure,” Lorcan said.

Dorian nodded. “Good. Let me know how it goes. If it’s an utter disaster, I know Mrs. Talon will let me know and we can try something else for them.”

Lorcan decided then and there the arrangement would only last a week.

Of all the humans Elide had to deal with she would have rather it be someone other than Lorcan Salvaterre.

As she left Dorian’s office, her stomach cramped with unease panic. Marion was struggling more than she’d realized. Why had she brought her favorite stuffed animal to school? Usually Marion was more cautious than that. The girl was absolutely obsessed with the thing and would never want anything to happen to it.

“Momma?” Marion chirped.

Pulled from her thoughts, Elide looked to her daughter. The girl was already standing with her backpack ready to go.

“Is it time to go?”

Elide wiped the worry from her face and nodded. “Of course, baby.”

Still stretched out on the floor, Tavish scribbled all over his piece of paper with a black crayon. He did so with such fury that it was a miracle he didn’t rip a hole in the paper.

“Black’s his favorite color,” Marion said. She tilted her head to the side and puckered her mouth. “I dunno why.”

“It’s a blackhole!” Tavish yelled. He very carefully ripped his black picture from the coloring book and held it up. “It eats everything! Like a vacuum.”

Elide was surprised when Marion let out a giggle and shook her head softly. Oh dear. The two of them were going to become friends and then Elide was going to have to deal with Lorcan Salvaterre for the rest of her life. Oh hell.

It wasn’t until they were out in the parking lot that Elide turned to Lorcan.

It had been a few weeks since she’d seen him. Not since the last game of the little league soccer tournament. And of course her girl’s had kicked ass. But being so near Lorcan again was unsettling. Mostly because she never knew what he was thinking. He was impossible to read, to know.

“I’m taking Marion to the park on Saturday,” Elide said reluctantly, “to kick a ball around, have some fun.”

Lorcan raised a brow. “Not working?”

Sighing, Elide shook her head. She tried not to let the comment bother her. It was common knowledge to anyone who knew her, even briefly, that she worked multiple jobs. She didn’t have a choice, really. But it was not something she liked talking about.

“No,” she said lightly. “Not this weekend. You and Tavish are welcome to join us.”

She watched as Lorcan ran a hand over his stubbled chin.

“You really want to go along with this?” he asked.

“If it means helping my daughter, yes.”

“You hate me,” Lorcan reminded her.

Elide cracked a smile while Tavish and Marion examined rocks piled at the edge of the parking lot. She had the sense that he was teasing her because for all of Lorcan Salvaterre’s bravado--it was obvious he cared for his son and would walk through fire for the boy.

“And you hate me,” Elide said. She called out for Marion while turning to her beat up car that could possibly break down at any moment. “At least we have something in common.”

Marion ran over and tossed her bag into the car before settling in her seat. Elide offered a brief, pained, smile to Lorcan before getting in the car herself.

She was able to hold herself together until she pulled out of the lot and onto the main street. It was then that she let a tear leak from her eye. Breathing heavily, she brushed her cheek. There was no reason for her to be upset. Marion wasn’t really in trouble at school. Work was fine with letting her leave her shift early. Salvaterre hadn’t been a complete ass.

There was no reason for her to be upset.

“Momma?”

Elide looked at her daughter through the rearview mirror. “Yeah baby?”

“I’m sorry I got in trouble.”

“No baby, you did nothing wrong,” Elide assured her.

“Then why did you come?” Marion asked. She was taking care to pick off dried mud from the stuffed animal, her little fingers making very little progress.

“Principal Havilliard just wanted me there, to make sure you were okay.” Elide wiped another tear from her cheek.

There was no reason for her to be upset.

“Mommy, why are you crying?”

Elide bit down on her lower lip and did her best to laugh. “I just missed you today, that’s all.”

Marion made a small noise before speaking again. “Can we go to Auntie Manon’s? I wanna see the puppy.”

“I’m sure you do,” Elide chuckled. Her best friend had adopted a new dog and puppy was not an accurate description for the creature. Putting on her best smile and cheery voice she glanced back at her daughter. “Let’s go see that puppy then.”

Again, I’m not sure where this is going, but felt the need to write elorcan and a single parent au, haha...thanks for reading! My ask box is always open for this fic or any other too.

tags: @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

#elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan au #throne of glass fanfiction #the fanfic no one asked for continues #the fanfic no one asked for #single parent au #throne of glass #queen of shadows #square one

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five-rivers · 4 years

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Long Night in the Valley Chapter 11

“Where are you going?” demanded Shigaraki, scratching his neck in agitation.

Touya Dabi looked lazily over his shoulder. “I’ve got something to do in town. Might as well avoid a second trip, right? You all go on back.”

“Aw, Dabi, you’re ditching us?” asked Toga.

“Yup. See you back at base. Let me know if you manage to wear down the giant, ‘kay?”

“Wait, wait, does that mean—Does that mean he has a way to get out past all these guys unnoticed? Pfft that guy doesn’t know anything! What are you talking about? You’re gonna get caught, Dabi!”

Dabi ignored Twice, just giving the League of Villains a lazy wave over his shoulder before making his way down off the roof via the fire escape.

Yeah. He had a way out. More importantly, he had some curiosity to satisfy and chaos to sow.

Time to bother a certain little birdy…

Hawks was in the middle of directing the clean-up team when he got a text. From a contact labeled ‘boyfriend.’

The person in question was not, in fact his boyfriend. Why, then, did he have him labeled thusly?

Because the person calling him was, in fact, the villain he was milking for information, and that did not fit well into a contact list. On top of being suspicious.

(Oh, and he lived in anticipation of the moment someone noticed the name of the contact and reported it to the press, causing his expensive commission-funded PR team to drown in delusional fangirls. It was the little things in life that made it worth living…)

(In his opinion, they deserved it for making him go through with that frankly traumatic series of photoshoots right after he turned eighteen.)

Hawks… Considered ignoring the call. Today, to be honest, had sucked. He’d been informed the former #1 hero had been kidnapped, ordered to hunt down a (questionably innocent) teenager, and lost a fight with said teenager. Adding pretend terrorism to that might just be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Except… People’s lives depended on the intelligence he was collecting. He retreated to the shadows of a nearby alley and answered the phone.

“I’m sort of busy right now,” he said.

“Yeah? Busy getting your teeth kicked in by All Might Junior?” Dabi cackled.

“If you called just to make fun of me, I’m hanging up.”

“Do you really think I’m that petty?”

“Yes,” said Hawks.

“Aww, that burns, chicken wing. What if I told you I had a tip?”

“Oh, yeah?” asked Hawks. “About what?”

“C’mon, you know you have to pay for it.”

Hawks covered the phone receiver while he sighed. “What do you want?” he asked, more composed.

“Just a ride out of town. Didn’t think you guys would be this antsy today. Did the kid kick your hill over, too?”

If Hawks had been religious, he’d be praying for patience.

“Just you, or are your friends here, too?” asked Hawks as he tapped in a Heronet request for everyone to be on the lookout for the league of villains on his other phone. “I can give everyone a ride.”

“Nah, just l’il ol’ me,” said Dabi.

Yeah. Hawks hadn’t expected Dabi to own up to his crew being in town. Even if they were.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Hawks, texting the hero commission. Maybe they’d see fit to cut their losses as far as the spy gig went and—Nope, they were approving his request regarding Dabi. “What about that tip?”

“Here’s half of it,” said Dabi. “Get your guys to scrape some of the runt’s blood off the sidewalk and run a DNA test on it. I hear he’s related to someone interesting.”

Hawks closed his eyes. If Midoriya was related to All for One, it would be the metaphorical nail in the coffin for him. Having your life and future ruined because of who your parents were… Hawks hadn’t exactly experienced something like that, but he’d felt the fear of it for quite some time.

(Despite everything, he still wanted to be a hero.)

“Thanks, for the heads up, dude. Where should I pick you up?”

“You really need to check in on your safehouses more often,” said Izuku as Toshinori reapplied the bandages around his ankle.

“I know. I was busy. I’m sorry. I haven’t exactly been helpful in all of this, have I?”

“I would have been caught within the hour, if you didn’t pick me up,” said Izuku. “I wasn’t in my right mind. But what now?”

“We can still go to Deika, I suppose,” said Toshinori. “We just, ah…” He looked up at Gigantomachia and Izuku followed his gaze with a wince.

Yeah. That wasn’t going to fly in any reasonably populous area.

As he watched, Machia pulled a small box out from beneath his shirt. Izuku blinked. That was a two-way radio.

Wait.

Gigantomachia pressed a button, and the radio crackled to life. “DOCTOR!” shouted Gigantomachia. “I HAVE FOUND THE LITTLE LORD AND HIS FRIEND. WHAT SHOULD I DO?”

Izuku tensed. He and Toshinori should have realized Machia would have some way of communicating with the doctor. After all, he’d said something along the lines of ‘call the doctor’ earlier.

Sure, both Izuku and Toshinori were injured, exhausted, and distracted by events playing out inside their heads, but just because a mistake was understandable didn’t mean it was forgivable. Or survivable.

The radio crackled with static. No response.

Izuku let out a sigh of relief as Machia repeatedly tried to raise the doctor on the other end of the line before breaking down in tears.

“Are- Are you sure we shouldn’t pull over, Dr. Tsubasa? Your phone is going off an awful lot.”

“I’ve been getting a lot of prank calls lately,” said Garaki, knuckles white around the steering wheel. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He was, in fact, quite sure it wasn’t nothing. But he couldn’t take a call from the League of Villains, or even Machia, with Midoriya Inko in the car.

He checked his GPS. Yes, Machia was staying still, which probably meant that he had Midoriya Izuku. Hopefully, he had already disposed of All Might, and could, therefore, devote his energy to keeping the Midoriyas from escaping and Midoriya Inko from attempting to kill Garaki once they arrived. And—

No, he was moving again. Curse the creature. How hard could it be to keep one teenager in place?

True, the teenager was the son of All for One and starting to grow into his terrifying legacy, but really.

“And you’re sure your friend will help us keep Izuku from being arrested?” asked Inko. She had been asking him some version of this question every few minutes since they got in the car.

“Quite sure,” said Garaki. He had been giving some version of this answer every few minutes since they got in the car.

“Is he… a lawyer of some kind?”

The picture of Gigantomachia as a lawyer was so incongruous that Garaki flinched and nearly drove off the road.

“No,” he said, perfectly calmly, not at all freaking out over what All for One would do to him if he involved Inko in a car accident. He laughed nervously. Oh, he’d better hope the accident killed him. Goodness.

“You have your driver’s license, right?” asked Inko.

“Yes,” said Garaki. His phone started buzzing again. He ignored it in favor of checking the GPS again.

Oh, dear. He knew where Machia was going.

This could be… interesting. He glanced at Inko. Very interesting.

At least he knew how to get there.

“I’m just saying,” said Izuku, who had been relieved far too early in the game. “I really, really don’t get along with Shigaraki Tomura. I think we should probably not go anywhere near him. It’s a really bad idea.”

“But he can call the doctor for you!” said Machia, excitedly as he bounded through the forest. “Then you can be better, Little Lord! All fixed up!”

Again, that did not make Izuku feel better. He squirmed against Machia’s arms.

None of the League of Villains were bad at sneaking. In fact, they were all quite good at it.

However, they’d come into the city with the expectation that they would have a quick getaway courtesy of the doctor if anything went wrong. Which they no longer had. Because he was ‘not in his lab’ and ‘busy.’ Self-important NPC… until the noumu got up and running, his whole point was to provide fast travel.

Anyway. Between being unexpectedly stranded and the stupidly huge numbers of heroes out looking for the cauliflower brat aka player two (Tomura didn’t have any proof he was actually Sensei’s kid, and until then…), they were going into this stealth mission with serious handicaps.

(With Dabi gone something like ninety-nine percent of that handicap was Twice and his inability to walk around like a normal person. Tomura had left his hands at home and Compress just had to take off his mask. Toga would have the easiest time of it, Tomura could admit, because she just had to shank someone.)

“I hate to say it,” said Mr. Compress, “but I think our burnt friend might have the right idea. Splitting up will give us better chances.”

“No way,” whined Toga. “We’ve got to stick together. Right, boss man?” She hugged Tomura’s arm until he pushed her off with his knuckles.

“There’s a car down there with the keys still in the ignition,” said Twice, pointing down into an alley.

They all leaned over the side of the roof to look at the car. It was old-fashioned. Antique, even. Someone clearly put a lot of care into keeping it clean and running.

The keys were, indeed, still in the ignition.

“A sting?” suggested Mr. Compress, uncertainly.

“Nah, they don’t use cars like that for stings in this city,” said Tomura, revising his opinion on whether or not Twice was a handicap. “They use, like, sports cars. Who here can drive?”

“I don’t have a license,” said Toga. “I was too young when I ran away from home.”

“I didn’t ask who had a license. I asked who can drive.”

“I can drive—Badly!—I drive fine. Hardly ever crashed—depends what you mean by ‘crash.’”

Tomura scratched his neck. He wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Compress, tell me you can drive.”

“I never learned how to use a stick shift.”

He pulled his bloody fingernails away from his neck. “Okay. Here’s the deal. Twice, if you crash us, I’ll kill you.”

“Sure thing, boss!” said Twice, saluting. “Not if I kill you first, jerkface!”

This was going to be a long drive.

“We’ve got a new message from the HSPC,” said the producer, sliding a piece of paper onto the presenter’s desk. “Read that as soon as we come off the commercials, okay?”

“Got it,” said the presenter, putting her headphones back on. She read the notice.

Members of the league of villains have been sighted in Musutafu and are believed to be present in connection with the kidnapping of Yagi Toshinori, also known as All Might. Please exercise caution…

The commission investigators had been waiting for at least half an hour before any of the UA staff even deigned to greet them.

“It’s about time,” said Abe.

“Sorry,” said the teacher waving. “You can’t come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“The campus is on lockdown because of what happened at the testing center,” explained the teacher. “We can’t open the gates without Nezu’s authorization, and he was called away to deal with an emergency.”

“What,” said Ito, dropping his cigarette and grind it under his heel. “Seriously? This is the emergency. One of your own teachers got kidnapped. All Might got kidnapped. Don’t you care?”

The teacher snorted. Abe and Ito stared at him through the bars of the fence, taken aback.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” The man snickered again. “Midoriya kidnapping Yagi. That’s certainly an image.”

“Midoriya is a trained in combat and has three dangerous quirks. All Might can’t even use his one anymore.”

“Yes, yes, I’m not saying it’s physically impossible. But—” He started laughing. “Possible and likely are two different things. Excuse me. I never introduced myself. I’m Lunch Rush, and if you ever saw those two at lunch time together, you’d have a very clear picture of why this whole situation is absurd.”

“Maybe you can show us the tapes, then,” said Abe. “After you let us in.”

“No, sir, I’m afraid I can’t. Even if I had access to them, there are students in those videos!”

“So?”

“Minors, you see. Without written parental permission or a court order we can’t show them to anyone not affiliated with the school. Now, I must be going. I have a culinary arts class to teach!”

He was still chuckling as he walked away. “Midoriya kidnapping Yagi, oh ho, I knew I’d get a kick out of actually hearing someone say that seriously…”

“Wow,” said Twice, “this car gets terrible gas mileage.”

“Are we going to run out?” asked Toga. “That’ll be exciting! I’ll have to flag down some generous motorist to give us a lift~”

“Yes! Not soon!”

Compress leaned forward from the back seat and started fiddling with the radio, barely staying on each channel long enough to tell if they were playing music or news.

Tomura groaned and covered his face with his hand. He contemplated whether it was worth letting his pinky drop just to escape this.

“… League of Villains?”

Compress stopped changing channels.

“They’ve been saying it all along. I know it’s hard to believe that UA could miss something like this, something like a traitor, but it’s just facts. The League’s presence in Musutafu confirms it. He kidnapped All Might for them”

“It all seems awfully coincidental, though, and the commission isn’t showing us any pictures—How do we know for sure the League is in the city? For that matter, if the League is really involved, how do we know Midoriya Izuku isn’t just another victim? We never got a full tally of their members. They could have someone with a, I don’t know, a brainwashing quirk.”

“Yumi, you really need to lay off the late-night conspiracy theories. We can trust the hero commissioookkkhhh—”

The radio died horribly as Tomura decayed it out of console.

“I am going to commit murder,” said Tomura. How did this always happen? How was it always this attention-grabbing, kill-stealing little—

“I guess we have time for a pit stop. No, we don’t!”

“Don’t you dare stop this car until we’re back at base,” growled Tomura. He took a deep breath that really wasn’t calming at all.

“I kind of have, to, I mean, road signs and all… Uh.”

“We’re villains, dude,” said Spinner. “You can break a few traffic laws.”

“Hell ye—Not if we want to live.”

“You can follow the traffic signs,” allowed Tomura. He leaned back his seat, ignoring Mr. Compress’s complaint about squished legs.

Player two. Finishing the tutorial and then blazing through a quest like that. Crazy OP character build.

He still wanted player two in his party. He also wanted to knock the brat so far off the leaderboard that he’d never play the game again.

These were, Tomura acknowledged, somewhat conflicting desires. He was, at the moment, leaning toward the second, but the first would give him ongoing dominance which would be incredibly satisfying.

If player two really was Sensei’s kid…

Then Tomura… He’d be like… a big brother. An older sibling.

That felt… weird. But also weirdly like something he wanted. Ugh, it sounded like a pain. Stupid story-mode side quest with garbage rewards, except the garbage rewards were the best rewards.

He hadn’t built his character for social interactions. He was combat class, high DPS.

Why couldn’t things just be simple? Why couldn’t he just destroy what he wanted?

“Heyyyy!” squealed Toga. “It’s a McDonalds! We could get murder and fries.”

“Do. Not. Stop. The car.”

Machia thundered into the abandoned quarry with all the enthusiasm of a deranged puppy.

“This is Shigaraki Tomura’s secret hide out!” proclaimed the giant, setting a windswept Izuku and Toshinori down in front of a crumbling, half-collapsed building. He beamed proudly. “SHIGARAKI TOMURA!” he screamed at the building, frightening away the few brave birds in the quarry that had yet to leave.

No one came out. Machia sniffed the air.

“Oh,” he said. “They aren’t home.”

“That’s fine,” said Izuku, patting Machia. He didn’t elaborate. Most of his brainpower was currently tied up in preventing his legs from folding underneath him.

“Why don’t we,” began Toshinori before hacking up a large quantity of blood. “Why don’t we just show ourselves in? I’m sure it will be more comfortable for young—For the little lord to wait inside. And perhaps one of them left a phone we can use.”

“The last time you went into a building by yourselves, you were attacked,” rumbled Machia.

“That is true,” said Toshinori, “but there’s no one in this building. You’d be able to smell them.”

“Not if they were invisible.”

Izuku blinked slowly. “That,” he said, “doesn’t sound right.”

He continued to blink as Toshinori convinced Machia that he would, in fact, be able to smell invisible people. He must have missed something, though, because next thing he knew, Toshinori was steering him into what passed as the building’s door.

“Alright,” said Toshinori, voice low. “We’re going to get you cleaned up as best we can, then we’re going to take everything that looks useful and sneak out.”

“Like… food and stuff?”

“Yes. And we’re also going to see if we can break enough things that they’ll have to take care of that instead of following us.”

“We could just set some things on fire,” said Izuku, who had never considered himself a pyromaniac of any kind, but who had also grown up alongside Kacchan.

“Good idea,” said Toshinori, who had been the type of fifth grader who made jokes about setting things on fire but had only ever burned his workbook at the end of the school year. “Let’s see if these guys have running water.”

“You know,” said Izuku, carefully avoiding a bunch of old food wrappers. “I sort of expected a more impressive evil lair, all things considered.”

“This is average for high-level fugitives, actually,” said Toshinori. “Especially if they don’t have a lot of connections or cash.”

“Huh,” said Izuku, cautiously opening a door. “Here’s the bathroom. Huh.”

There were a lot of hair products in the bathroom. A lot a lot.

It’s like the candles budget chart, snickered Six in the back of Izuku’s head. Help, I’m trying to balance my evil lair budget. This is what I’ve got so far: Electricity, 100 yen, building, 1100 yen, furniture, 200 yen, hair styling products, 9,000,000 yen.

Izuku wheezed.

But, seriously. Why did they need this much hair stuff? Shigaraki obviously hadn’t ever even heard of personal grooming. Toga had her natural hair color. Compress didn’t show his face or his hair. Spinner had a lizard mutation. Dabi—

It was totally Dabi.

Oh gosh, based on how most of the hair dye boxes were labeled for temporary use and quick removal… Haha, was Dabi just… just waiting… just waiting for an opportune moment to dramatically reveal himself?

Izuku started wheezing again.

“Are you alright, my boy?” asked Toshinori confused.

“This is Dabi’s hair dye,” said Izuku.

“Hm. I hadn’t realized he dyed it.”

“I want this hair dye,” said Izuku.

“I suppose we can try to find the brand once we get to a supermarket,” said Toshinori, confused.

“No, no,” said Izuku, still gazing down at the box sitting next to the sink. “I don’t want to use this brand of hair dye. I want to use this hair dye.”

“Oh. Oh,” said Toshinori. “This hair dye. Dabi’s hair dye.”

“Yes,” said Izuku.

“To be petty.”

“Yes,” confirmed Izuku again.

“It has been a long time since I was… petty,” said Toshinori.

“Vlad-sensei’s car?”

“That was convenience, not pettiness.”

“Well,” said Izuku, picking up the box. “We are sort of… you know… villains, now. Since we fought Hawks. I am anyway.”

“You’re not a villain,” protested Toshinori.

“I mean, from a legal standpoint,” said Izuku. “Not a moral one. And, well. Villains are petty, right?”

“I do not believe pettiness is an exclusively villainous trait, my boy. In any case, I wasn’t condemning you.” He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the cracked and crumbling ceiling. “If we had more time here, we could set up some things that would really annoy them.”

“More than stealing their food, their money, their clothes, and their hair dye before setting their house on fire?” asked Izuku.

Toshinori scratched his head. “You know, now that I think about it, probably not. But does this really qualify as a house?”

“Hey,” said Hawks. “So, about the other half of that tip.”

“Huh? There isn’t a second half. That was just to keep you from ditching me.”

Hawks had met villains who were civilized professionals. Why couldn’t he be trying to infiltrate a society made up of those types, and not one that included the racoon currently filling his car (technically the commission’s car) with the scent of smoke and charred flesh?

“Well, what about that ‘interesting parentage’ you were alluding to?”

“Oh. Shigaraki thinks Midoriya is his sensei’s kid.” Dabi shrugged. “Honestly… yeah. I kind of see it. But you’d think he’d get his kid to work with us instead of whatever is going on between him and Shigaraki, on the other hand…” Dabi trailed off.

Hawks momentarily glanced away from the road to see Dabi with an uncharacteristically pensive expression.

“I mean,” continued Dabi, leaning on his hand as he stared out the window, “the whole hero thing could be sticking it to his old man. I can respect that.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” observed Hawks.

“You still talk to your parents?” asked Dabi.

“Nope.”

“Heh, you wouldn’t tell me even if you did, would you?”

“Hey, you are a villain. I’ve got to keep my soft spots covered, right?”

“Right,” drawled Dabi. “Kid held up pretty well against you, didn’t he?”

“He did okay,” said Hawks. “He got away, after all.”

“Wonder how he’d do against Endeavor. One-on-one. What d’you think?”

Hawks couldn’t help but swallow. If it were one-on-one, and Midoriya could still use Erasure… He hated to think it, but Endeavor might lose. A man with no quirk against a strong enhancer and that black tentacle emitter…

He wondered how long it would be before Midoriya got put on the S-rank villain list. The paperwork had to be in progress.

(After all, he’d defeated the number two hero – or near enough – while holding off three others.)

(On the other hand… that building…)

“It’d certainly be a fight,” said Hawks, neutrally. “Is Midoriya really not working with you?”

“Nope,” said Dabi, not quite managing to pop the ‘p’ with his burnt lips. “Not saying he isn’t a villain or whatever. That’s up to you guys after all.”

“Not me,” said Hawks. “I’m on your side, remember?”

“I remember,” said Dabi. “Anyway, I only was face-to-face with him that one time in the forest, last summer. He had a great expression. Not as great as – Well. That part doesn’t matter.”

Ugh… Hawks hadn’t taken Dabi for the kind of killer who’d reminisce about his kills. Maybe he could – No. Lose Dabi and he’d lose his lead on the League, and who knew how many more people would end up dead.

He just wished the commission would give him backup on this. Someone who actually worked with infiltration. Someone who could help him minimize the damage the League was doing.

“Pull over,” said Dabi. “This is my stop.”

“You live around here?”

Dabi snorted. “Not a chance. You get to see our base once we’re sure you won’t tattle.”

“Come on, you can’t blame a guy for curiosity,” said Hawks.

“Sure can,” said Dabi opening the door and jumping out onto the gravel margin. “I’ll call you.” He walked off the side of the road into the scruffy tree cover and disappeared.

“Well,” mumbled Hawks, deliberately ignoring all the elocution lessons the commission had stuffed him with. “That was useless.”

Except for the tiny feathers he’d snuck into the lining of Dabi’s coat. But those had limited range and Hawks wasn’t good enough at stealth to follow Dabi without making an idiot (a potentially dead one on top of that) out of himself.

His phone began to ring, the bugs in the car having shown the commission that Dabi was gone. Hawks sighed and answered. Time for new marching orders.

The landscape was much more intact, now. It was still a battlefield. Four was dodging bullets and catching grenades to sling them back at his attackers. He dove to the ground right before a cheerily painted building exploded into splinters.

Danger Sense, Aizawa concluded. Some kind of limited precognition?

“Shigaraki?” said Iida. “He’s a Shigaraki? He’s related to—to him? To Shigaraki?”

“Sensei,” said Uraraka, tugging on his sleeve, “that other man, you don’t think that was, you know, the man from Kamino? All for One?”

“Midoriya thinks that All Might is related to All for One?” muttered Todoroki, just load enough to hear. “That – no, that does make sense. Their quirks are wrong, though, but if there are enough generations, you can’t really predict… Does that make Midoriya and Shigaraki cousins?”

Todoroki paused. Aizawa braced himself, both for the violence he was sure he was about to see, and the torture Todoroki was about to inflict on him.

“Midoriya is related to All for One,” whispered Todoroki.

Shouto didn’t blame Midoriya for trying to hide it. If at all possibly, he would have hidden the fact that he was related to Endeavor. Sure, he might have lost some privileges, but he also would have gotten rid of the constant comparisons between himself and his father.

Much like Shimura Souma had to face.

It must have been terrible for a young Midoriya to learn that he was related to a man who had so injured his father.

To learn that he was related to this man.

(No wonder he based this shade on Shouto, although Shouto didn’t think that Endeavor was quite as bad as All for One.)

There was a sound like cymbals being brought together, then—

Light.

And—

Sound.

A group of soldiers who had been sneaking up on Four were obliterated by a lightning strike that left behind fire and glassed soil.

Four got up and did a sort of awkward bunny hop away from the strike zone, blinking dazedly and covering his ears. Shouto knew he’d be behaving similarly if his dream body behaved at all realistically. Especially given the risk of being electrocuted due to the charge in the ground… Or was that just for downed power lines and Kaminari? He didn’t remember, and apparently neither did Four.

There was another crash of the cymbals, like thunder before the lightning and the lightning struck again, farther off.

And then a woman, a few years older than Four ran out from between two of the buildings, cymbals in her hands. Her graying hair was worn in tiny braids and her skin was dark. Mixed race – That would have been rarer back then. She had other musical instruments (drumsticks, some kind of flute, what looked like maracas) attached to her belt, but was otherwise dressed in generic military surplus gear. There was a massive surgical scar stretching across her throat.

“Haruna,” said Four. “What, what are you doing here?”

‘Haruna’ tucked one of the cymbals under her arm and began signing aggressively at Four.

“Ye-yes. But – Your children, they need you.”

More signing. “I’m not being hypocritical.” He gestured to the mark over his eye. “I’m dying anyway. You aren’t.”

Her face twists, then twists again as she notices more armed men approaching. She claps her hands, metal sewn into the palms flashing before a slender bolt of lightning cracks across the sky.

This is when Shouto realizes who she is. He’d learned about her in art class, of all things. Thunderclap. One half of one of the first villain duo to be marked as S-rank, active during the dawn of heroics. Her birth name was widely believed to be Harmony Trey, and she’d used the alias Miura, but records from back then, even for something that important, were sketchy, and criminals were never good at keeping paperwork up to date in the first place.

Her quirk was sound-based weather manipulation. No one knew what had happened to her throat, but the public of the past had been grateful for it. She could cause lightning strikes with a clap. What could she do with her own voice?

Something like twenty percent of the early propaganda pieces for the Hero Practices and Standards Commission had her and her partner on them, being defeated or held off by various newly licensed heroes.

Neither of them had ever been caught.

Was she ‘Three?’ If so, Shouto could understand why Six didn’t want to say anything, although All for One was much more jarring and—

Hold up. Thunderclap had been active over a hundred years ago. If All for One was here, too, then that meant that either:

Midoriya’s subconscious was terrible at timelines (and so was Shouto’s because he’d just accepted all this without question until a split second ago). Or—

All for One had an immortality quirk on top of all the other terrifying things he could do.

The fact that the second one was more plausible was unfair of reality.

(Shouto liked ‘conspiracy’ theories, but his theories were, for the most part, well, not things that would keep him up at night for fear of nightmares.)

Except she didn’t seem to see them at all, so maybe not. The rules in the dreamscape had, appropriately, a dreamlike consistency. That is to say, hardly any.

“Please,” said Four. “We don’t both need to die.”

Thunderclap looked like she was about to cry. But she nodded. Four turned to face the rest of the small army bearing down on him.

The house looked cozy, thought Tenya. Sort of like that cabin his family had rented in the countryside a few years back. The lights were dim but warm. The smell of food and spices permeated the air. Children and teens of various ages were draped over furniture.

In the kitchen, four adults sat around a table. Four, Thunderclap, a man who was entirely green, and woman with hair so golden it literally glowed.

As a middle schooler, Tenya had done a lot of research into discrimination against people with mutation quirks and vestigial or tangential mutations. It had branched off into research into quirk-based discrimination in general. If this scene was truly set near the dawn of heroics, the green man and the golden-haired woman would have risked being attacked just walking on the street in most cities.

He looked back through the doorway at the children in the other room.

Both the yellow hair and the green curls were painfully familiar.

Did Midoriya really think he was related to Thunderclap of all people? The idea was preposterous.

Except—

Oh, he was getting just as bad as Todoroki. Not to mention, even if Midoriya did have a terrorist in his family tree a hundred years ago, it didn’t change anything about Midoriya. Goodness, Tenya most likely had some less than savory characters in his own family tree, even if he didn’t know about them.

Four doubled over clutching his head, interrupting the apparently light-hearted story the green man was telling.

“They’re coming,” gasped Four. “They’re coming. Go bags – phone tree – we have to.”

“I’ll get the kids,” said the golden-haired woman.

“Your body is shutting down,” said a man in a doctor’s coat. “These cracks, they aren’t just on your skin, they’re on your organs, too. I can’t find any reason for it. Maybe if we had access to genetic testing…” he shook his head. “Maybe you can still get it. Your quirk is concealable. Not like most of us here.” He took a moment to tug on one of his long, sheeplike ears.

Four shook his head. “Too big a risk.”

“Mhm, it’s up to you,” said the doctor, dubiously. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more, Yagi-san.”

“It’s still Shimura. Yagi is my wife.”

“That’s still confusing.”

“The name change thing is western,” said Four, “and I picked Shimura for a reason.”

Aizawa steadied himself against a wall. The last two shifts had been disorienting.

“Is there anything else I can do?” asked the doctor.

“Can you help me tell my wife?”

Four was screaming and holding his face. In front of him was a huge boulder, split in half.

“Hoshino,” said Four, leaning down so that his head rested on top of the golden-haired woman’s. “I gave it away. I gave it away.”

“Lariat worked out, then?” asked Hoshino. Yagi Hoshino, Aizawa had to presume.

“He’s a good person,” said Four, hoarsely. “I like working with him.”

“You don’t have to stop.”

Four closed his eyes. “I think… without it… I might be able to live here. At least, visit more often.”

“I’d like that. I think the kids would, too.”

Four, hunched over, clutching his head.

Four, in an alley, fighting men with knives, standing in front of a young woman with clawed hands. He’d been stabbed in the side.

They were back in the house, watching a news program. A trainline had been hit by a villain attack. A ticker on the bottom read ‘mutant metahuman train under attack by Evolutionary gang.’ The reporter’s voiceover was saying something along the lines of this is why mutants shouldn’t be allowed on public transport, they bring their gang wars with them.

Lariat was on the scene. A man recognizable only by his green skin at this distance fell out of one of the train cars. Lariat grabbed him with one of his black energy whips and put him back.

Thunderclap relaxed her death grip on Four’s arm by just an iota.

“He saved him,” said Four.

A much younger Four leaned against a wooden wall. He was splattered with blood, his clothing torn.

“I couldn’t save her,” he whispered. His hands were shaking. “Shimura-san—” His breath caught.

A woman with her hair gathered into a curly gray ponytail sat at a desk, blankly staring at the content. She wore a grey cardigan and could have been Thunderclap’s sister. Her eyes were obscured.

Which meant she probably was, all things considered.

Which meant that she was the other half of that S-rank villain pair.

Tempest.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Four.

“I do. You don’t understand how many people he’s killed. You don’t understand what he’s done. He has Haruna. I can’t—”

The scene sheered away as Tempest turned to face Four.

Do you remember when I first met you?

“Oh, this isn’t a pleasant one,” said Four, voice deceptively mild.

They were in an underground facility. The walls were concrete and metal, covered in pipes. The sounds of footsteps echoed down the hallway, starting and stopping.

“Although,” said Four, “there were certainly some good points as well.”

A teenage version of Four ran down the hall, frequently looking over his shoulder. His hands clutched a ring of keys by their blades and a pair of ID cards. His long, shaggy hair hung in his face, and he kept having to push it out of the way.

He reached a door at the end of the hall, and started fumbling with the keys, muttering under his breath. He slid one of the cards through a scanner near the door. It clicked open.

First contact.

There were definitely fewer voices involved in the proclamation, now. Two men, one woman. The woman had an American accent.

Beyond the door, a woman was strapped to the bed, unconscious. No, not a woman, the same woman who had been at the desk.

Tempest. Storm-caller. A villain who had been responsible for bringing so many storms to bear against Japan that they had permanently changed the coastline.

“Got to get you out of here before Dad comes back,” muttered the younger Four, untying the straps. “You need to wake up. Ah, Narcan.” He started rifling through a cabinet. “Narcan, Narcan… Narcan. Found you.”

“Don’t look for Three,” said Four. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Or anyone. Do you know where Jinoshi Lake Camp is?”

“My class went there on a history field trip, once,” said Uraraka.

“Yeah,” said Aizawa, not liking where this was going at all. “I know the place.”

‘The place’ being what amounted to a concentration camp for quirked people in the early days of the quirk boom. How bad it was tended to be glossed over in history lessons, but Aizawa had long been able to read between the lines.

In the earliest days, the government had tried surgically removing quirks. Typically by removing the relevant body parts.

“That’s her contact point. Don’t look too closely.”

Aizawa supposed he knew how Thunderclap got her scars.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fanfic #my fic #long night in the valley

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mummybear · 4 years

Text

Getting Into Trouble

This Is Day 5 Of Roleplay May

Words: 4114

Warnings: Smut, Wall Sexy, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Think That’s It :P

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, (Marie) Reader’s Best Friend (OC), Sam Winchester, Unnamed Club Bitches

Summary: Meeting your best friend Marie at your local nightclub turns out to be a more exciting night that you had originally planned. Especially when your favourite doorman is on duty and doesn’t take his eyes off of you all night. This is also for @deanwanddamons1Kfollowerchallenge So happy for you babe you deserve it :D I had the prompt ..... ‘Sometimes you need it so bad, it’s enough to drive a young girl mad.’

A cold chill whips through the summer air as you step out of the cab, quickly leaning inside the window to pay the driver. It doesn’t take long for you to approach the steps of the club, it’s a small but popular place. A place which had been quickly growing in popularity, largely thanks to the hot staff it had recently acquired, both inside and outside of the establishment. At least that’s what you had heard, however, you and your best friend Marie had been coming here for years before the change.

A small smile slips onto your lips when you spot your favourite bouncer and doorman, right at the front of the crowd standing on the very first step. He’s looking as handsome as ever, light brown hair styled just so, green eyes that are practically shining with that bad boy twinkle when he winks at you.

He’s not as wide as the other guys, but he towers over them in height. With broad shoulders that you’ve often imagined clinging to and bow legs like no other man you’d ever seen. He’s dressed simply, but god does he wear all black extremely well. Tight black t-shirt, which you know from experience has the word security printed on the back in white block letters, with what look like tailor made pants and smart black shoes.

“Hey there sweetheart, long time no see” he greets you, just as friendly and charming as ever, with a gorgeous grin that’s all perfect teeth and plump lips. He takes your ID from you, letting his fingers gently graze yours, quickly glancing at it before he hands it back.

“Yeah it’s been a while, you’re still looking real good though” you smile sweetly, the tip of your tongue poking out between your lips as your eyes rake over him, appreciating every perfect inch of that man.

“Uh, thanks” the blush that coats his freckled cheeks is so cute, you would’ve thought he was used to the compliments by now. He licks hips plump pink lips and flicks his eyes up to meet yours again. “You’re lookin’ pretty damn sexy yourself” he rasps, voice sounding a little deeper than before as he nips at his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Hopefully I’ll see you later and you’ll finally tell me your name this time” you smile back, returning his earlier wink and tucking your ID back in your bag.

“I’d really like that. Just don’t go and get yourself into any trouble. I will throw you over my shoulder this time” he warns you playfully, you don’t miss how he lets his eyes shamelessly rake over your body.

You have to practically press your body against his to get inside, what with the amount of people trying to squeeze inside all at once. You look up at him through your black lashes, giving him your best seductive look. “Oh, promises, promises Mr green eyes. I might just have to get myself into a little trouble then” you wink as he shakes his head at you, giving you a gentle shove inside.

“Go! I’ve gotta work!” he laughs, finally turning away from you.

The moment that you actually step into the club you realise just how busy it really is tonight. There’s the odd cluster of people here and there blocking your path. People that you almost have to fight your way through, as well as the idiots paying no attention and filtering in and out, being stopped by the doormen and bouncers for god only knows what reason.

The music is quite literally pumping, to the point that you can feel the vibrations under your feet. You really need a damn drink right now and the bar is completely packed. You were really happy with your outfit tonight though, choosing it hadn’t been too difficult once you’d found the right dress. It fit your body perfectly, it was black and purple and stopped a little above your knees. Luckily your heels weren’t too high, since you were definitely planning on dancing tonight, preferably without getting blisters.

You sigh defeated, seeing the size of the lines at the bar, as they continue to grow before your eyes.

Until you spot your best friend waving at you from her usual table by the bar. Relief fills you as you get ever closer, where you notice that she’s already gotten a few rounds at the table and of course she couldn’t forgo the shots. That would definitely save you the wait, meaning that you could get this night started right.

“So, I see Mr green eyes is back, he asked about you by the way,” Marie practically shouts into your ear as she pulls you into a hug.

“Yes he is and considering he works here babe, that’s not too strange” you laugh, ignoring her final comment, you pull back to look at her. “Oh and hello to you too by the way”

“Sorry love I’ll behave. Or I’ll try at least” she winks as you both take your seats. You shake your head at her with a wry smile, unable to stop the scoff falling past your lips.

“Yeah that’ll be the day, you’re worse than me!” laughing as you clink your shot glasses together, resting a hand over her heart Marie gasps. “Down the hatch, you dork!” you shout over the loud music and that fake hurt dissolves almost immediately making way for her devilish grin beneath.

Your time together is filled with conversations of mutual friends and things you’d both done since last meeting up. Not forgetting the unsuccessful dates you had both been on, Marie can’t help but remark that you’re sexually frustrated. “I dunno what you’re talking about honey, I’m fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. Me and Mr Vibrator have it very much under control” you wink when she snorts with laughter, almost choking on her drink.

“Oh that is not the fucking same Y/N! And you damn well know it!” replying through a laugh while pushing another shot towards you. You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile at her. You’d really missed this and as usual Marie understood more than she knew. “Nothing like a good hard fucking, which you so clearly need!”

“I am not fucking some stranger! You know that’s just not me, besides who says some random guy is gonna be any good” you reason as she shrugs at your answer.

“Doesn’t have to be a complete and total stranger. We both know someone who is just dying to get into those twisted panties of yours. Pretty sure that’s a man who knows his way around a woman” she winks, nodding over to where Mr green eyes is now standing, clearly it was time for a switch around at the club, since he’d come inside with one of his buddies and was chatting about something.

“Would you drop it woman! That man is so far out of my league. So can I please just have a great night out with my girl!” you sigh pushing another shot towards her with a pout.

“Fine. I’ll drop it. But he would be lucky to get in those pants” you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile as you take your next shot, she’d always been the best wing woman going.

The drinks keep flowing, thanks to the hot barman that Marie is currently waving at, he had apparently been trying to hook up with her for a while, but she was adamant they were only friends. It doesn’t take very long for the two of you to have a steady buzz going, after around five shots each and whatever cocktails she’d ordered before you’d got there.

“I wanna dance, come on. Please” your friend pouts at you, grabbing at your hand and dragging you off in the direction of the dance floor, she doesn’t give you time to argue.

Those puppy dog eyes she gives you tends to always do the trick. Although, if you were being honest you were also in the mood for a dance, to try and get some of the pent up energy out of your system. Keeping your fingers crossed that hopefully you could stop your mind from wandering, back to that sexy green eyed doorman, which thanks to your wing woman was becoming increasingly difficult.

The music was practically vibrating through your entire body as you and Marie stepped onto the dance floor. Christina Aguilera’s Dirty had just started playing, you glance up and spot Mr green eyes across the room, he was with another doorman now, the only guy that you were aware of who was actually taller than him. To your surprise he’s looking right at you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Marie walks behind you and grabs your hips, pressing herself tight against your back.

“What are you doing woman!” you laugh as she rests her chin on your shoulder, the two of you start to rock to the beat in time with one another, raising your arms in the air as you continue to rock back against her.

“Just go with it! He has not stopped staring at you since we stood up. Not to mention he’s with the tallest man I’ve ever seen and I’ve got the sudden urge to go man climbing”

You burst out laughing at the serious way she says that, “Want a ride on man mountain huh?” you ask still half laughing as both continue moving to the beat, Marie giggles behind you as the beat speeds up. You’re slowly becoming more distracted as you watch them both move closer, your own hands start moving over your body, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

You drop down slowly, your ass pressing back into Marie, until you settle back on the heels of your feet, thinking back to a move in the music video for this song. You can feel the muscles of your calves and thighs tense as you lean forward slightly. Slowly sliding your hands down your thighs, stopping at your knees as you part your legs and quickly snap them shut again. Standing slowly, you keep your eyes fixed on Mr. Green eyes, whose fists are currently clenched at his sides.

You don’t notice the way that his friend is staring at Marie as you push back into her with your ass, both of you laughing as she swats at it playfully and wraps her arms around you from behind.

However, your happy moods are soon ruined when a drunk group of girls fight to get past you, the one at the front bumps into you and Marie, nearly knocking you both on your asses.

“Watch where you’re going!” she slurs shoving at your shoulders, causing you to stumble back a little unsteady on your heels.

“I’m sorry. What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one who’s clearly drunk off their ass here. You walked into us!” you shout back over the music, resisting the urge to shove her back.

“Get your bitch in line. Nobody talks to my sister like that” one of the other girls squawks, sounding like an angry bird, as they all step closer to the both of you.

“What did you just fucking call her!” Marie snaps, stepping closer to the group. Where she receives a chorus of ‘you heard’ from the group of idiots. “Get your moron sister in line then, if she can’t walk straight she probably shouldn’t be here. She’s clearly had too much and needs to get her childish ass home!” Marie responds irritation lacing her tone as she tries to reason with these people. Just about managing to dodge out of the way just in time to avoid another shove.

“Stop fucking shoving people” you practically growl, finally your control snaps, shoving back as hard as you can, sending one of the girls stumbling back into the group.

“You stupid slut!” the defender shouts, raising her fist. But she’s quickly blocked by a large body and hand that’s twice the size catches her balled up fist.

“I warned you! You’re coming with me, Miss” someone growls to your side, you recognise that voice instantly, you can’t help but grin happily. Not quick enough to move away or turn to look at him properly before he throws you over one of those broad shoulders, causing you to let out an excited scream..

Your eyes search for Marie when you hear her over the music somehow. Finding her in an almost identical position to your own. Once she’s thrown over the giant's shoulder Marie gives you a thumbs up, smacking his ass as he walks away with her. The scenery behind you bumps around, swaying awkwardly as you’re carried through several doors, clinging to the back of his t-shirt for dear life as he walks..

Another door is kicked open, where you feel the cool breeze blow across your almost naked ass.

“So, where are we going Mr. mysterious?” you question, your voice dipping with his every step.

When suddenly the back door to the club swings closed behind you with a loud bang.

A surprised noise you don’t recognise leaves your lips when he returns your earlier hit. With a harsh slap to your ass. Since apparently your dress had ridden up, it was a little more skin on skin that you’d been expecting.

You hear him chuckle, right before he tugs the bottom of your dress down and bends over, carefully lowering you until your feet touch the ground again.You look up at him with a smile when his hands grab your hips, making sure that you’re stable on your own.

Running your hands up his strong chest, your touch remains light, enjoying the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt. It’s really dark out here, with no real light. Only a few neon lights to light the alley way.

“I’m not sure that I approve of you manhandling-” your words are silenced when his plump lips suddenly press against yours, with an urgency you hadn’t expected.

Your hands fist in his tight t-shirt in an attempt to pull his body closer, while he walks you backwards and presses you into the wall. You feel his tongue brush against your lips when they part, gripping your leg tight he hooks it over his hip, rolling his hips into you. You can feel the bulge through his black pants, pressing against the front of your panties, nudging repeatedly at your clit. The way he feels against you only encourages you to rock back against him.

Your tongues finally meet and you can taste the faint whiskey that lingers there, somehow you knew he’d be a whiskey man.

Your hands move to fist in his hair, enjoying the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours and the groan that fills the back of his throat, he even manages to pull a small moan slips past your lips.

“Name’s Dean by the way” he breathes against your lips, before pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

“Y/N. Fuck…. Dean suits you,” you reply in a breathy moan, throwing your head back against the brick wall as he starts kissing down your neck, pausing to suck and nip marks into your skin.

“Wanted to do this for so long. Getting me told off every time you come in sweetheart, can’t damn well concentrate on the job” he groans against your ear, pushing your dress up around your waist so he can grip your ass tight with those big calloused hands.

“Me too, I would say I was sorry, but I don’t wanna lie” you confess with a half-hearted giggle, gasping when his finger brushes against your soaked pussy from behind, briefly dipping under your panties.

Your hands slip between the two of you. Dean leans back a little, catching on to what you’re doing, allowing you to undo his belt while he pushes a hand between your legs. You whimper when his fingers start to run back and forth over the front of your damn panties.

Once his pants are open you shove them down those gorgeous bow legs as far as you can. Dean lets out a throaty groan when your fingers wrap around his thick hard length. Letting his forehead drop forward against yours when you start to move your hand over him, up and down, feeling the thick muscle throb against your palm.

“You’re so wet baby, can’t wait to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock” Dean whispered huskily against your lips, pushing your panties to the side, he eases two thick fingers inside you.

Your free hand clings to his bicep, looking into his eyes as your pussy stretches deliciously around his fingers. The perfect drag against your tight walls as he starts moving his fingers inside you, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

“Dean, fuck me. Please. I need you inside me” you whine desperately, rolling your hips down into his hand, pushing his fingers deeper.

Chuckling deep and breathy, Dean curls his fingers teasingly as your thumb swipes across the swollen tip, smearing the thick pre-come down his length.

Which triggers you both to moan into each other's mouths.

Pulling your hands away from one another, you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, as he sucks his slick covered fingers between his plump lips. Transfixed you watch the way his tongue swirls around his fingers and he moans, keeping his darkened green eyes locked on yours. As he pulls them from his mouth with an audible pop.

“You ain’t gotta tell me twice sweetheart” he tells you with a grin and that panty dropping wink.

You can faintly hear the music that’s playing in the club, the bass pounding against your back. The lyrics you manage to hear work so damn well for your current situation and you’re almost convinced that Marie had requested it.

‘Sometimes you need it so bad, it’s enough to drive a young girl mad.’

You jump when he taps your leg, that bad boy twinkle still very much present in those gorgeous eyes of his. He lifts you easily, slamming you back against the wall. You whimper at the force of it, the rough brick scraping against your back and arms, as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Gripping his cock Dean watches it slip through your slick folds, his own lips parting, pulling breathy moans and whimpers from you. “You want my cock sweetheart? You want it hard, right where anyone could see us?” Dean rasps, fingers digging into your ass as he shifts you slightly.

“Fuck yes! Please, Dean!”

Your hands push into the hair at the back of his neck gripping tightly when he finally stops teasing and lines up with your entrance. Catching his bottom lip between your lips you suck gently, before dragging your teeth over it as he slowly enters your welcoming heat.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you squeeze your eyes shut, finally releasing his lip when he thrusts up into you hard, causing the rough bricks to cut into your back.

Dean hisses in pain when your fingers dig into his scalp, hair woven between your fingers as you tug. Pulling back he repeats the action, quickly thrusting his hips forward roughly plunging back into your soaking wet pussy.

Picking up a slow steady rhythm, deep and powerful, his teeth tug at the skin along your collarbone, creating a little sting of pain which only adds to the pleasure. Tugging the front of your dress out of the way with the cup of your bra, he keeps those green eyes locked on yours as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, tugging with his plump lips and sharp teeth. Groaning against your skin he swirls that talented tongue around the slowly hardening bud, the snap of his hips pushing your heels into his firm ass.

You’re forced to slap a hand over your mouth when he thrusts particularly hard, to stop yourself from screaming his name, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to wind and clench as the head of his cock bumps repeatedly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

There’s the obvious feeling when his lips pull into a smile against your breast, he draws back, dragging those perfect white teeth over the stiff peak. One of his big hands wraps around your wrists and pins them back against the wall as his thrusts begin to speed up.

“Don’t hold it in. Wanna fucking here you screaming for me. I don’t care who hears you begging for my cock” he practically growls, fingers flexing against your ass cheek as the blunt nails dig into your skin.

Your head is swimming with his words, every feeling amplified by the thought of anyone catching you both in the act. “Holy shit you’ve got a dirty mouth, Dean” you pant against his lips, nails digging into your palms. The scratching of the rough brick as it drags against your soft skin, causes you to whimper with every snap of his hips.

“And don’t you just love it, bad girl,” he grunts with an edge of a chuckle, when he feels your pussy starting to flutter around his cock, squeezing and clamping down. Your only answer is filled with nonsensical and incoherent sentences, the only thing that comes out clearly is the chanting of his name, with a mixture of mumbled cussing and pleas.

Your thighs start to shake as Dean squeezes a hand between the two of you, rough calloused fingers pressing against your clit, hard fast circles as his fingers tighten around your wrists.

“Fuck Dean! Just like that, please!”

Your head drops back against the wall, only seeing the black night sky and stars, which starts to mix with the neon lights as the feeling overwhelms you. Your orgasm hits you hard, rocketing through your every nerve ending like lightning, but Dean doesn’t stop thrusting.

“Son of bitch! Should have done this ages ago. So damn perfect Y/N. Gonna fucking fill you up sweetheart”

Clenching his jaw Dean presses his face into your neck, his hot breath against your skin.

The hand that’s gripping your wrists drops, resting against the wall as he bucks into your pussy at an uncontrollable pace, your slick soaking his thighs.

The vibrations of his every growl and moan, mixed with the pounding of his hips. Only serving to prolong your orgasm, so much so that you’re forced into another mind blowing climax, pushing Dean into his own release right behind you. You feel his orgasm hit, causing his thighs to shake under your ass.

A huff of air is released from your lungs when Dean practically collapses on top of you, leaning on his hand as much as possible.

You quickly feel his weight shift as he pulls his chest away from yours slightly, you feel him smile against your lips when he presses a kiss to them. You can’t help but whimper at the loss and sensitivity when he pulls his hips back, his softening cock slipping from inside you.

“Did I miss something? What’s so funny. Mr green eyes?” you smile back, still breathing a little heavily as he helps you rearrange your dress and pulls up his black pants and boxers.

Shrugging he turns to look over his shoulder, following his line of sight your heart almost jumps out of your chest. There’s a security camera sitting just under the guttering, red light blinking away undisturbed.

“I guess for someone in security I probably should’ve remembered that was there, huh?” he laughs still out of breath, scratching at the back of his neck.

“You think!?” you exclaim doing your best to sound annoyed, until the laughter starts to bubble up in your throat. “Get your ass in there and get that video!” you playfully scold him, making sure to smack that tight little ass.

“You want me to wipe it from the record?” he asks with a smirk and that bad boy twinkle in his eyes.

Biting your lip you shake your head, “Just do what you need to. Get it and let's go”

“You’re a bad influence on me sweetheart” the wink he throws your way says otherwise.

“I might have believed that, if you hadn’t just fucked my brains out, in the alley against the building where you work” you laugh gently pushing him towards the back door you’d both left through earlier.

“Touche” Dean chuckles, grabbing your hand and tugging you inside.

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desireepow-1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @deanwanddamons @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @sunshineandwings86 @captain-shannon-becker @heimdoodle @fandom-princess-forevermore @flamencodiva @hobby27 @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @pisces-cutie @trina44sb @heartsaved @matsumama @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

Text

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 7

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623403705475219456/the-long-way-around-chapter-6

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2208

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

It’s been around six months since I joined this new life. I can feel my newborn strength fading by the day, though my bloodlust does not show me the same mercy. I’ve yet to have a true encounter with a human, and I hope to avoid one for a very long time. I have no doubt in my mind that I would lose control. Jasper says it’s normal, that I’m doing well, and that I shouldn’t worry about the future and instead focus on improving today. Some days I believe him, some days I don’t. I guess it all comes with the territory of being thrust into a life you never thought could exist.

My case hasn’t had any leads since they arrested my assailant, though, since there’s no body to find, I don’t suppose I can assign any blame. I’m old news now, except for the occasional plea from my parents or a friend for anyone who knows something to come forward. Those break me every time. It pains me more than I ever thought possible to see the people I love hurting and know their hurting is in vain, but not be able to do anything to ease it because I will literally kill them. Carlisle and Esme have taken a few trips on my behalf, for which I am endlessly grateful. A run-in at the grocery store here or a quick drive by their house at night. It’s not much, and it hurts deeply to not be able to take the errands myself, but I think it would be worse not to know how they’re doing.

My self-control has gotten slightly better. I’m down to hunting only about once a week now. I fill my newfound free time with odds and ends. I read books, decorate my room, let Alice do my hair, work on learning Spanish, and play board games with the other vampires in the house. It’s nice to start seeing them more as friends rather than roommates. It certainly makes shoving myself into their daily life much more bearable.

Jasper still doesn’t let up with his constant babysitting of me, but I don’t mind it like I used to. In all honesty, we’ve become pretty great friends. He definitely knows me better than anyone else in the house, and I would seek out his company even if it wasn’t a necessity. Right now we’re reading through all the Harry Potter’s together just to pass the time. Esme was very encouraging of our project, even buying two copies of each book for us and one copy of each book in Spanish, to help with my studies. She’s so thoughtful. Jasper didn’t like the books at first, but at my and Bella’s behest, stuck with them. I think he had trouble getting into them because he didn’t grow up reading them. But now we’re on book five, and if we go more than two days without reading a chapter, he bugs me about it. It’s kinda cute. As both of us tend toward the introvert side of the spectrum, we spend much of our days in one of our rooms. Seldom are we apart, so it surprises me when he sends Emmett, Arthur, and Rosalie with me to hunt and doesn’t include himself. Hurt that I really hope he doesn’t notice pricks at me. He probably just needs a break, relax. You guys do spend a lot of time together…maybe you’re getting on his nerves. But I don’t protest outwardly, not wanting to seem annoying. Besides, I like everyone in my entourage just fine and spending quality time with them wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Have fun. I’ll uh, see you later.” While Jasper’s voice is calm, he looks anywhere but my eyes.

I try not to let my hurt show, but I know he must feel it. “Okay, you too.”

He offers me a smile that seems strained.

Once more, I brush off my insecurities and follow Rosalie outside to meet the guys. Emmett is grinning broadly, wringing his hands together.

“Since we ditched the wet blanket, I thought we’d hunt something a little more fun today,” He proposes, a gleam in his eye. Despite my down mood, I can’t help but be terribly interested.

“What did you have in mind?”

{***}

Bears. Bears were what he had in mind. I let out a shout of exhilaration as I wrestle with a grizzly five times my size. It’s a ridiculously intoxicating feeling to grapple with one of nature’s most feared predators and come out on top. It makes me feel so capable. And, unsurprisingly, grizzly blood is leagues better than that of a puny deer. I make a commitment to do this much more often.

By the end of it, my clothes are history, but thankfully, Rosalie thought to pack a change in our backpacks. She leads me behind a tree to change, laughing when we hear growls from both men and bear. They’re nearly indistinguishable, and the difference wouldn’t be perceptible at all to human ears.

But Jasper’s absence is still bothering me. This seems like something he would love, and it’s weird that he seemed intent on avoiding it. Did I do something to upset him? I weigh my options, and decide Rosalie is a trustworthy enough person to risk asking. It’s better than not knowing and letting my insecurities run wild.

Still, I try to sound unaffected, not wanting to reveal how much I actually care. “I wonder why Jasper didn’t want to join? Bears are so much more fun.”

Not at all fooled, Rosalie chuckles. “Jasper had some business in town to attend to. He can’t take you with him, for obvious reasons, and I guess he thought the three of us wouldn’t be that bad of a trade.”

I nod, feeling a bit better. It’s just an errand then, nothing I did personally.

But Rosalie grins, not done with me yet. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just hoped I wasn’t annoying him or something.” I shrug, wanting to exit this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Please, I don’t think Jasper could ever be annoyed by you.”

Wait, what? “What do you mean?”

Rosalie laughs, pulling a twig out of my hair. “He hangs onto your every word. He waits on you hand and foot.” When I don’t respond, Rosalie raises her eyebrows, disbelieving. “You really haven’t noticed?”

I shrug, quickly running through the past six months of my new life. “I guess I just thought it was his job.”

Rose scoffs and shakes her head. “No. Now that he knows your limits he really only needs to be with you when you hunt.” She shrugs. “He enjoys your company.” Then, with the teasing smirk of an older sister, she begins to walk away. “Do with that information what you will.”

She leaves me, and I stand, stunned. So for the past who knows how long, Jasper has chosen to spend all that time with me? The realization makes my dead heart feel something I don’t recognize, something tender. Since Edward’s not here it makes no sense to police my own thoughts. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I totally seek out Jasper’s company too, regardless of the need for oversight. With him, everything is just so natural; I feel perfectly at home in this completely strange life. I gulp, not really sure what that all means.

Thankfully, Emmett saves me from figuring it out at the moment.

“Hey kid, let’s go! It looks like it’s gonna rain.”

We speed home, all wary of Alice’s reaction if we were to ruin even more items of her carefully curated designer clothes.

As it is, she gives me a disapproving look the moment we walk through the door. “Next time, please wear something more expendable.”

I frown, feeling bad, and Arthur grabs Alice’s hand and distracts her with a kiss before she can chastise me further.

“Sorry, Alice.”

But she only smiles, all traces of a sour mood gone.

I can hear Jasper shuffling papers down in the basement and I automatically take a step in that direction. Then, I pause, deciding that it might be beneficial to test Rosalie’s theory. So instead, I drop my bag by the couch, turn on my heel, and head upstairs to my room. I pick book off my shelf and wait.

Not three minutes later I hear his steps on the stairs and his knock on the door.

“Hey, can I come in?”

I pat the spot on the bed beside me. “Of course. How was town?”

He raises his eyebrows.

I smile guiltily. “Rosalie mentioned you had business there.”

He chuckles and sits, seeming more comfortable now. “Yeah, town was good. Got everything taken care of.”

Now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows, but it quickly becomes apparent that he does not intend to expand upon the term ‘business’, so I let it go. “Emmett took me bear hunting.”

Jasper grins and pulls his legs into a criss-cross, leaning his back against the wall. “What’d you think?”

“So much better than deer,” I enthuse. His grin widens. I make a face like I’m suddenly remembering something. “Oh, I left my bag downstairs. Be right back.”

And before I can even swing my legs off the bed, he’s standing, shaking his head. “No, you look comfortable. I got it.”

A thrill so strong I know he feels it rushes through me. Rosalie might not have been too far off. Still, I school my expression by the time he returns.

I express my appreciation and decide to try the next reaction I want to test. I recount, in excruciating detail, my bear hunt. And, just as Rosalie said, he hangs onto my every word. He laughs at each bad joke and grins at each clear exaggeration. He actually listens. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed this before.

And then I feel a little bad for experimenting on him without his knowledge, so I try to make up for it. “Is there anything you want to do tonight?”

He shakes his head immediately. “I’m fine with doing whatever.”

“No,” I laugh, grabbing his arm and giving it a light shake. “You always have to do what I do and you’re such a good sport. It’s my turn to try something you like.”

He thinks, and then smiles almost self-consciously. “Well, okay. There’s this cliff and waterfall about eighty miles north of here that’s absolutely gorgeous. And, being virtually indestructible and all, it’s really fun to jump from the top and land in the pool of water beneath it. I haven’t been in forever.”

I smile as I stare up at him, game for anything he suggests. “Let’s do it.”

“Really? You’re sure?” I definitely am, but even if I wasn’t, his wide, excited beaming would make me say yes. It’s just too sweet to turn down.

“Absolutely.”

He stands then, evidently ready to put our plan in action. “Just don’t tell Esme.”

I want to question why, but suddenly remember Esme’s tragic experience with cliffs. I agree readily. As quietly as possible so as not to attract attention, we decide to gather our necessities and meet at the stairs in five minutes. I throw on a swimsuit Alice had the forethought to buy under an unassuming outfit. I grab one of my towels from the bathroom and toss it in my backpack. After a moment’s consideration, I add The Order of the Phoenix, feeling that it can’t hurt to bring it along. As planned, we join at the top of the stairs and walk slowly down, trying not to be too noticeable. But of course, it doesn’t work out that way, and we’re spotted the minute we make it to the kitchen.

“Where are you two going?” Esme’s question throws me off guard, and I panic.

“Hunting.”

Jasper eyes me clandestinely, obviously not pleased with my lack of improvisation finesse.

Emmett appears then, teasing. “What, bears not enough for you?”

Thankfully, Jasper’s at the top of his game. “Interacting with the humans in town today was a little much for me. I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

“What do you need Y/n for? To watch and shout encouragements?” Emmett laughs heartily at his own strange sense of humor.

Esme smiles, and I can’t tell if she fully believes us or not. Nevertheless, she lightly pushes on Emmett’s shoulder, directing him out of the kitchen with instructions to “leave us be”.

Once outside, I work to hold in my giggles until we’re out of earshot.

“Well, remind me to never involve you in a lie.” Jasper’s voice is teasing, and he pokes me lightly in my side.

I roll my eyes, unable to stop the laughter. “I panicked! I didn’t expect anyone to actually ask. Did they believe us though?”

Jasper shakes his head slowly, considering. “They were definitely suspicious. But for now, we’re in the clear. Just remind me to catch a deer or something on the way back so I won’t be a total fraud.”

I smile, mirth emboldening me to take his hand. And with that, we break into a run, excited to reach our destination.

A/n I work like every day this week so I probably should have spaced out posting these chapters. Whoops! Buuuut I’ve had a really fun time writing them and I’ve just been excited to get them out. So this week will probably be slower with the updates, sorry! Still, let me know what you thought about this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx,

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623575983503638528/the-long-way-around-chapter-8

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo @sana-li

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morgana-ren · 4 years

Note

Imagine being at a Halloween party thrown by Dabi and someone in a Leatherface costume keeps following you. It turns out to be Shigaraki. You comment on how his human skin mask is cool and how it looks so real, and oddly looks like Bakugo's face. He laughs, tosses it away and leads you to a field of pumpkins, where he non cons you, while Spooky Scary Skeletons plays in the background.

Okay listen, I know this was probably sent in 200 percent as a joke, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to sit down for an hour and make it work. It’s been a weird week. I can make weird work.

Like imagine kinda knowing Dabi before the league goes super big. You don’t know too much about him, but he’s a friend of a friend and so on and he’s got the dangerous bad boy appeal alongside those haunting blue eyes, so all ya friends hover around him. So lets say you get invited to his spooky-dooky Halloween party he’s throwin’ in an old warehouse. It’s sort of his last hurrah cause it’s a lot harder to try and bone civvie girls when you’re a wanted villain with your face on the news attached to a criminal group, so he’s gunna throw it back tonight and take what he can get, you feel?

So you and ya friends get all cute and dolled up in your costumes and head out to this bash that’s taking place on the wrong side of the tracks in some godforsaken warehouse. It’s in the industrial zone, which is comprised of nothing but abandoned buildings, squat houses, and old warehouses. You’re pretty sure he just found one and broke the chain on the door and called it a night. That should be your first clue, but fuck it, what’s life without a little risk?

Anyway, a few hours pass and admittedly, you’re a lil’ drunk. That being said, you could swear this dude in a leatherface costume is stalking you. Maybe not stalking you, per say, but he’s definitely trying hard to be where you are. It’s not like he’s easy to confuse with anyone else; his costume is super unique, and if you’re being honest, a little disturbing. It legit looks like that kid Bakugo from the Sports Festival but forcefully mutated in with the classic Leatherface look. Whoever it is, they’ve definitely got an edgy sense of humor. It should spook you, but it’s Halloween for fucks sake! At least they’re putting some effort in! It’s no coincidence that you see him literally everywhere you go, so maybe he likes you?

Maybe he’s cute under that creepy mask.

It’s worth a shot (get it, shot?), so you let him follow you to the bar and sit down next to an equally empty seat, hoping to give off the vibe of ‘quit being creepy and come talk to me.’

A few seconds later and surprise surprise, he sits down right beside you. No sense in pretending this is anything other than what it is, so you turn right to him and offer to buy him a drink.

He stares at you for a minute, beady pupils surveying you beneath that godawful mask he’s donning before he nods. He doesn’t tell you what he wants, so you just order him whatever mixture of gasoline and fruit you get. He just stares at you while you sip at your own drink, and you can’t help but laugh. His eyes are fuckin’ intense, and while you’re already a little tipsy, it’s pretty clear he’s dead sober. Luckily, alcohol gives you a charming ice breaker.

“It’s probably a little difficult to drink with that terrifying thing on your face, but I really appreciate your dedication to the look.”

Behind the holes of the mask, his eyes crinkle near the edges. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or snarling, but he’s definitely reacting to what you’re saying. He must’ve decided that he likes you, because he finally reaches behind his head and loosens whatever makeshift strap that’s tangled in his silver, ‘fake’ blood matted hair.

As he lets it fall away from his face, you study what’s underneath. He’s a little rough around the edges, a little chapped with dry skin and more than a few blisters on his pale lips, but he’s cute and the costume has you intrigued. For all you know, it could be liquid latex. The guy seems pretty dedicated after all. It makes you wonder what is Halloween paint and what’s his actual skin. You kinda wanna lick him and find out.

Shut up, alcohol.

“It’s homemade.” He rasps out, voice cracking and strained like he hasn’t spoken in days. After a sip of his own drink, he slips a subtle smile as he sees you eying the grotesque costume piece. “I’m glad you like it.”

It’s gross to say the least. Whatever it’s made out of, it’s certainly not plastic or rubber like most masks. It smells atrocious, especially coupled with the must and cheap booze of the warehouse, and it makes you a little queasy as it flops around in his lap a little too lifelike for your liking. It even has pores, for Christ’s sake. Tearing your gaze away from it isn’t easy, but if you look much longer, you’re not really sure what your stomach is gunna do, so you turn your attentions to the owner instead.

“Are you making a statement or just not a fan of the would-be hero types?”

He giggles a little even though you’re not entirely sure what you said was funny. “I guess you could say it’s both.”

You sit in an awkward silence, sipping at your drink for a few minutes before another wave of alcohol induced courage lights a fire under your ass. If he won’t talk, you sure as fuck will.

“So, are you a friend of Dabi’s or-” He scoffs, loud and hard, lip curling in distaste. “No. I’m unfortunate enough to know him. We work together.”

“Really? I always wondered what he did for a living.”

It takes him a second to realize that’s you’re prodding, and a minute longer to come up with an answer. “I guess you could say we’re sort of... activists or something.”

“Is that so? He never really struck me as the generous type.”

“He’s not.” He grins like a fox in a henhouse, mischievous and sly like he knows something you don’t. “And I’m not either.”

“Then why be an activist?”

His smirk fades, and he nurses his drink, flicking his eyes away from you. “I dunno.”

“What kind of activist are you? Like social or environmental or-”

“Uh-” He clearly wasn’t expecting this line of questioning. “Political.”

“Oh, that’s cool! What kind of politics are you guys into? You seem like the anarchy sort to me, but I don’t wanna judge-”

“Are you always this nosy?”

His sudden hostility takes you back a little. Sure, you’re drunk and annoying, but that seems a bit excessive. Maybe this isn’t the tree you want to be barking up tonight.

“Sorry. I was just trying to get to know you.”

You turn your body away from him slightly, returning your gaze to the rusted metal behind the makeshift bar. You can see him glaring you down out of your periphery but opt to ignore it. Regardless, he stares for a few more moments before downing the rest of the drink you apparently wasted your money on. “Well, don’t.”

Whatever, man. It’s a fucking Halloween party. You can find a different jerk-ass to hook up with, one who at least pretends to be nice until the night is over. Dicks are a dime a dozen in a place like this, and the ‘super mysterious, if I told you, I’d have to kill you’ bullshit charade he’s playing is grating on your nerves. Part of you wants to tell him off for being so rude, but the other part is telling you to just shut up, project your disinterest, and wait for him to leave.

You huff a small sigh, blowing the air out of your puckered lips as you roll your eyes behind closed lids. Your side of the conversation comes to an abrupt halt, and suddenly everything in the room is more interesting than he is. Yet even with the uncomfortable awkward air around you both, he doesn’t leave. He just continues scanning you over as you do your best to give him the cold shoulder. So he really thinks there’s any sort of comeback from that, huh?

Apparently he does. He’s not very good with social hints either. You’ve almost tuned him out when you feel a bony hand clutching your upper arm.

“Hey, come with me. This place is boring and I’ve got something I want to show you.”

You turn, shooting him a disbelieving glare, but he’s already slid off his bar stool and is pulling you along with him. He doesn’t bother to wait for your answer, weaving through the crowds and dragging you behind him even as you try to wiggle your arm out of his grasp. Had you been in your right mind, you might have screamed or shoved him and told him to get lost, but your liquor marinated mind makes it difficult. He’s kinda right, after all. This place has gotten boring. All your friends left you behind an hour ago to go find their own conquests and dancing by yourself gets pretty lame after a minute. It’s not like you had anything better to do.

Alright, fine. Follow the rude guy. He seems pretty adamant about it anyway.

You try to justify it by telling yourself maybe he’s just super socially awkward or doesn’t have much experience with girls. He could also be one of those super brash, brutally honest people that just says whatever comes to mind. Maybe he didn’t mean it in a mean way. A trailing history of terrible taste in men leaves his unbridled rudeness with a bad taste in your mouth, but it wasn’t like you were planning on seeing him again after tonight. Ride the dick and then ride off into the sunset.

You both dodge through the groups of people together as he yanks you towards the very back of the warehouse. The couple of doors he leads you through have a fairly prominent ‘Do Not Enter’ sign cautioning at eye level, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded, pulling you through the heavy doors despite the clear warning. A few hallways and dim, empty corridors later and he’s ushering you into something resembling a claustrophobic courtyard outside that joins the warehouse with a few of the surrounding buildings.

It’s very dark outside, and aside from the slight shine of ugly yellow tinted streetlights peeking through the alleyway, you can’t see much of anything. You can’t imagine what on Earth it is out here that he wants to show you, but you doubt you’ll even be able to see it. Anxiety starts to bloom in your chest as your drunk mind starts to realize that you’ve followed a stranger out into a very dark, very isolated area.

“H-hey, I never got your name.”

He laughs softly, coming up behind you and gripping your shoulders in a way that feels all too tight. Steering you forward, he leans in, feet falling in line with your steps.

“You’re right. My bad, that’s awfully rude of me.”

He pushes you forward in a way that seems a bit intense for having just met before latching his hands lazily around the base of your neck and pulling you into his chest.

“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t know what Dabi does for a living, or else you never would have been stupid enough to follow me out here.”

Okay, it’s Halloween and all, but his brand of prank is starting to feel a little too real. The macabre costume and total boorishness should have been the insight you needed to come to the conclusion that this guy just isn’t quite right in the head, but between the alcohol and your desire to give him the benefit of the doubt, it just never quite clicked for you.

“It’s Shigaraki, by the way. My name. I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

His wet breath on your neck isn’t the only reason you get shivers. You have heard that name before, only never spoken so casually. His fingers tighten around the tensing muscles in your throat as you swallow down a bombardment of emotion. Panic. Fear. Realization.

There’s a million and ten things going through your mind right now, the foremost of which is why. You aren’t a hero, nor are you a particularly fervent hero supporter. You’re not related to any heroes, and frankly, there’s no one further from the social/cultural hub that is hero society. Isn’t that what this guy gets his rocks off to? At least from the news snippets, that’s the impression you gathered.

You want to ask him why you. Maybe its a selfish question but it’s a question none the less, and one people tend to ask when their place on the mortal coil is being threatened. Yet, no matter how you try to spit out the words, your tongue stills in your dry mouth and refuses to cooperate. The pounding in your chest is giving way to a headache and a serious case of sick, and you swear between the loud pulsing of blood in your veins, you can hear him giggling behind you.

You think maybe that’s a strong enough cue to leave. You can ask him why when you’re separated by a thick layer of glass at Tartarus.

You know, it’s easy to sit back in the comfort of your own home and laugh at the clumsy heroine in any given horror movie who fumbles away from the killer like a newborn fawn just discovering its own lanky legs, but you’re quick to understand just why that troupe is so popular. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to turn on your heel and shove him hard on the chest, and even when you manage, it’s so weak and pathetic that it barely knocks him off balance. It only just gives you enough space that you can dart in the opposite direction. Where you’re going, you have no clue, but it’s not on the forefront of your mind as you pound pavement beneath your shitty costume shoes and shout “Stay away from me!” like some cliche damsel in distress.

Your adrenaline fueled getaway is short lived. A few seconds after beginning your feverish sprint away from what you know to be a very dangerous young fellow, the front of your foot catches on something and sends you toppling to the ground only a few feet from where you began your initial rush. Your fall is less than graceful, and the shriek that emits from your throat before your body thuds to the dirt like a sack of potatoes is far less sexy than anything in any horror movie. The bag you’ve been clutching, filled with nothing but the bare essentials and a half empty flask, is flung from your fingers. Your assailant doesn’t slow-walk towards you in a menacing manner while wielding a knife, but practically jogs over, wheezing with nasally laughter as he grabs you by the hair.

“I bet that went a lot better in your head, huh?”

A lot of things went a lot better in your head, to be fair. That scene. This night. Your life in general. But the little pity party you’re throwing yourself does little to garner his sympathies. No amount of hiccuping and crying fat gobs of tears that leak from your lashes and down into the Halloween makeup it took you hours to do elicits any response from him but what he had already planned on.

His laughter finally dies down and the fingers threaded through your hair manhandle you to your knees before roughly casting you down onto something. Something hollow yet sturdy greets your sensitive, liquor addled stomach as he forces you down and bends you over it. It feels slightly waxy, yet organic to the touch, and seems to wobble around slightly the more he kicks and prods you into a position you’ve seen one too many times in those shitty free pornos.

Pumpkin. It’s a fucking pumpkin.

You can smell the leaves and grass and sodden soil as he positions your hips up in the air, shucking off the costume apron he’d been wearing. Dirt embeds under your finger nails as you struggle to drag the rest of your body over the pumpkin to make your escape, but the hand that isn’t currently fumbling with his zipper is still tightly anchored in your hair, holding you in place. He hisses out a few words warning you against struggling too hard, his quirk is uncontrollable after all.

He makes quick work of the cheap costume bottom, inhaling a ragged breath and digging his jagged nails in a little too tightly to your skin when your ass becomes bared to the cool night air. The sight of you must’ve made him impatient, as he settles for simply yanking up your top along your back to expose your tits instead of going through the effort to try and get it off you. If what you’ve heard is true, he could simply dust it and be rid of it, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in the most centered form of mind right now, and it doesn’t appear like it’s your death he’s after.

No, it seems like he’s after something much more intimate than death.

Your mind is acutely aware of what’s about to happen, but it’s trapped in your paralyzed body, unable to force your heavy limbs to move with the weight of the panic. He’s freed himself from his pants, knuckles bumping against the cleft of your ass with every jerk of the cock that you thank God is hidden from your vision. After a few rigorous pumps, he withdraws for a moment before spitting and dribbling his slick saliva into the palm of his hand, coating his cock and using it as a makeshift lubricant.

When he’s finished making spitting sounds that make your stomach church, he lines his hips against your reluctantly spread legs and you feel the hot, thick tip prodding against the tautly pulled walls of your entrance. It’s enough to renew your childlike kicking and whining, babbling and pleading for him to stop. Regardless, he pays you no mind, opting only to yank his hand from the roots of your hair. It stings and he takes several strands of hair with it, but you don’t have time to focus on the pain as his fingertips dig into the fat of your cheeks, flexing and forcing you to look up at him as he hunches his wiry frame over yours.

It’s hard to see through the haze of tears that blear your vision and thick black makeup caking around your eyes, but you can make out that he’s smiling. If you can call it that, that is. Cracked lips wet and parted, breathing hot, moist breath down onto your forehead. Lips curled upward in a nasty, smarmy grin. A slimy tongue trails along his teeth as he practically drools down onto your shoulder like you’re a thick cut of venison and he’s a rabid wolf ready to sink in his canines.

“You know, I never cared much for Halloween,” His hips cant forward ever so slightly and begins to push the tip inside your unwilling hole. Slowly, slowly at first, but soon with more force. It hurts, morphing from a dull ache into an intense sting the more his girthy length is stuffed snug inside between your thighs. “But Dabi was right- it’s a lot more fun when you dress up.”

To punctuate the end of his sentence, he pulses his hips forward, sinking himself all the way inside and watching with a sick sense of glee as your face contorts in pain. He rolls his hips experimentally against your backside a few times, hissing in slight discomfort at the bittersweet tightness that strangles his flesh inside of yours. It stills him only for a brief moment, long enough for you to truly grasp the horrendous sensation of your body molding to accommodate something too large for it to have been ready to take.

However uncomfortable he may be, it’s nothing compared to what you’re feeling. It seems like a cruel joke that the wanted villain who set his sights on you that night would also have a monster cock, but Halloween was always the devil’s little prank show. He’s crammed it inside you with no regard for the damage it might do, pain radiating in the deep of your stomach as his cockhead is scrunched firmly against the wall of your cervix. Your fingers dig deeper into the dirt, but not to escape. You’re aware you’re too firmly impaled on him for that to be an option, so you settle for trying to give yourself any sensation at all that will lessen the unholy tear of your already sensitive pussy.

Eventually he decides he’s had enough of memorizing your pretty, anguished face, and his movements begin anew. Hips pistoning in a building rhythm, flesh of his thighs slapping obscenely against your bare ass. The protruding stem of the pumpkin grates into your abdomen, forcing pained, breathy ‘ah’s from you with every powerful hump. The anguishing drag of his cock assaulting your insides begins to blend together one after the next, and you do your best to block out the animalistic grunts and a sickening moans he emits with every thrust.

Eventually he lets your face go in favor of sinking his fingers just below your waist to anchor you in place as he pounds away, and you take the opportunity to drop your head in defeat and clench your eyes shut. He’ll get bored of you or he’ll cum. It’s what comes after that you should really be worried about. By the sounds he’s making, he’s far from losing interest. He seems to be getting a bit carried away, muttering something along the lines of “take it, slut” and needing to celebrate holidays more often.

That’s when you hear it.

Spooky, scary, skeletons send shivers down your spine

At first, you think it’s a joke. Like you’re having some sort of twisted nightmare and reality has finally decided to throw you a bone to lead your consciousness back home. But his manic fucking never stops and neither does the pain.

Shrieking souls with shock your soul, seal your doom tonight

A few blinks to clear the fresh wave of agony and one hand digging into the side of the pumpkin to stable yourself enough against his rutting to search for the source of the noise. There’s a glowing light a few feet from you, flashing and vibrating but just out of reach.

Your phone. It’s your phone. Your bag had landed not far from where he had you pinned, and your phone had been thrown from the bag.

Your new October ringtone plays through the damaged speakers, flashing your best friends face on the screen. She’s looking for you, probably wondering where you went. She’d never find you here. No one would.

We’re so sorry skeletons, you’re so misunderstood

Help is so close, yet so far away. Your sobs begin anew, feeling his cock pulse as he whines something about breeding his pretty little bitch into your ear. He’s cumming inside you, papping his hips against you in a shallow, offbeat rhythm. You can feel it, hear it squelching and leaking down your thighs. He came. Inside you. And judging from what few words you can make out between your agonized cries, he has every intention of doing it again.

You just want to socialize but I don’t think we should

#Anonymous #Shigaraki x reader #tw rape #tw noncon #tw alcohol #gagfic #this is a fucking joke and I put no effort into it please know that #I wouldn't actually consider it one of my stories #just a goof lmao #warning not proofread AT ALL #Shigaraki fucks you over a pumpkin #still technically smut tho #You're a girl on a quest for dat DICK and he's a rude asshole #Bakugo may or may not be dead #totally depends on your interpretation #i wrote this on PAIN KILLERS BABEYYYY

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dinolikes · 4 years

Text

IMPOSTER- PART TWO

summery ❤︎ Nobody has any quirks and are stuck on a ship like among us

pairings ❤︎ Imposter!Dabi x Reader

content warnings ❤︎ major character death

| prev. |

you sobbed into dabi's chest as hawks and ingeniumu covered thirteens body with a sheet, everyone looking over, some with tears, and some with just a blank look, like they were still processing it.

it was silent for a long time before ingeniumu cleared his throat and looked up, everyone seeing the ghost of tears in his eyes, "we have to call h-headquarters," his voice cracked but he stood tall, he would make a great captain one day, even with his pushover attitude.

you were crowded in the cafeteria, a computer resting on the table with headquarters on the line.

"im sorry to say this but you have an imposter."

you shook your head, you refused to believe it, how could these people, your FRIENDS, who you've lived with for a year, how could they be imposters?

though you shouldnt be surprised, the league has been gaining members, rarely any ship didnt have at least ONE imposter, some even having as much as three, you just thought you guys were the exception.

"twice, hawks, you searched thirteens body correct?" a voice came through the screen.

"yes sir," hawks quietly muttered.

"was everything in place?"

"he didnt have the vent key."

the vent key, really easy to pass through, was originally made for people to quickly go from room to rooms, but after the rise of imposters who started using it to sneak up on people, only one person was allowed to use it per day.

the voice cursed, "very well." a sigh could be heard, "well you know the drill," you did, you just didnt like it, "if you suspect someone, send them out and let them die," you gulped.

you didnt know if you could do that, even knowing that someone here murdered thirteen, you learned to care for each of them, even weirdo itchy snatch tomura. you didnt know if you could just send them into space to suffocate. even the thought made you sick.

"until then, we'll need you to finish your tasks fast, we'll have you home by the end of the day, which means the imposter will probably try to kill faster today. watch out." with that a beep was heard, signaling that you were disconnected.

a grim silence filled the room.

hawks finally spoke up, "which one of you assholes did it?"

dabi glared at the taller man, "fuck you dude, how do we know you didnt do it?"

hawks took a step closer, "bold accusations from someone who seems to hate everyone!"

"why would I kill one of the only people I actually like in this shithole?"

"because he had the vent key dumbass!"

"hey!" twice yelled.

hawks glowered at him, "oh yeah, how could we forget twice here? you found the body right? meaning you were the last one to see him? why DID you decide to check on him huh?"

"why would I come to you guys then?!"

"i dunno, to throw off suspicion maybe?"

you finally snapped "stop it!" everyone's heads shot towards you, "thirteen is dead," you choked out, "and I know thay we're all upset but we just have to finish today's tasks and then we're back home, okay?"

everyone stared, until deku started nodding, "y-yeah! just today's tasks left! then we'll go home and catch the imposter and we'll be fine!"

"what makes you so sure we'll catch him once we get home idiot?"

deku stared up confusingly at kaachan, "dont we have cameras?"

ingeniumu looked at his friend "obviously deku but whatre you getting at?"

"our cameras have memory sticks," shoto spoke up quietly, "when they're connected into one of headquarters machines, you can access all of what it caught,"

deku nodded rapidly, "exactly!"

your eyes lit up, "deku your a genius!" you grabbed his head and gave him a big smooch on the forehead, leaving him a red and stuttering mess.

dabi tsk'ed, "c'mere,' he grabbed you hand and pulled you towards him, wrapping you hands around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

you rolled your eyes playfully at his jealous nature.

"fine. we finish our task but if another person is found dead we're booting someone off." with that, hawks stormed off.

you tried not to go too harsh on him, you knew hawks looked up to thirteen, and beneath that cocky demeanor, he really was soft.

knowing that though, you couldnt help but feel some fear and resentment.

fear because you didnt think you could kill off one of your own and resentment because you knew hawks would make you do exactly that.

"we should have a plan," ingeniumu speaks up, "4 groups of two who continue on and do their tasks, and I think twice should be on security, just incase the imposter attacks again," everyone nods.

"i'll go with wonder," dabi states, already grabbing your hand,

"dont you think you'll get distracted with...other things?" tomura smirks, dabi clenching your hand in his.

"fuck. off."

"oo feisty~"

dabi glares, "yknow you dont really seem to care much that thirteens dead!"

tomura's eyes flash a dangerous color and he leans forward.

"the FUCK did you just say?"

"you heard me you fucking incel,"

"stop!" ingeniumu yells, "tomura is right, you guys do get quite distracted, wonder is with hawks, dabi your with shoto. ill go with tomura and that leaves deku and kaachan, with twice on security. let's go!"

dabi grumbles but goes with his brother as you lightly kiss him on the cheek and go with hawks.

you cant help but think about how amazing that kid is gonna be when hes older as a captain of his own ship.

you and hawks head off, both of you checking your list and stopping by rooms, the other waiting as they finish their task and repeating, until hawks sighed.

"how are you dating that asshole?"

you laugh, "hes not too bad once he likes you,"

"and what? he just doesn't like me?"

"exactly."

"what if he didnt like thirteen?" your smile drops instantly.

"hawks..."

"I'm just saying!"

"well STOP saying! I know dabi and he wouldnt betray me like that, so whatever accusations you have against MY boyfriend, I dont wanna here it," you scowl as you check your notebook, and started heading forward, "c'mon. I have to do wires in electrical."

hawks stayed quiet through the walk, as you stormed forward, wanting to get as much away from him as possible without ACTUALLY losing him. if you were being honest you were scared of going off alone.

as you walked in electrical you instantly went towards the wires, not noticing hawks standing in the doorway,

"wonder?"

"yes hawks?" you snap.

"I just saw someone vent." you pause and turn around.

"where and who?!"

"I dont know! I just saw the vent close when we walked in here and since Thirteen had the key before he died, that means that only the imposter can vent!"

"fuck! why would they vent though?!"

hawks paused. "maybe they killed someone again."

tears filled your eyes as you started searching the dark room, almost tripping over something, you only briefly looked up but you choked back a sob.

it was a foot.

"hawks!"

he came running towards you from behind the wall and saw the foot, gulping as he turned on the flashlight.

there say ingeniumu, with his throat slashed.

you couldnt hold back the cry that left your throat as hawks pulled you in for a hug, mostly to hide his own tears.

"what's going on in here?" you heard dabi's voice and you lifted you head to see him and shoto.

he looked mad but when hawks gestured with his flashlight towards the body, the brief flash letting both of the boys see, dabi understood.

"c'mere baby," he grabbed you quickly and held you tight as you sobbed into his chest, dabi looked up at his brother, "shoto can you call a meeting?" he asked softly. you assumed shoto nodded because there were no other words spoken.

there you all sat again, in cafeteria.

you were sniffling as dabi played with your hair, you holding shoto close as he leaned into you, still in shock of seeing his friend's lifeless corpse like that.

deku stood tall and didnt bother to hide the tears streaming down his face and even kaachan was caught sniffling a bit.

twice sat quietly in the corner, with his elbows on his knees.

hawks though, was red in the face from anger. and the victim of his anger was none other than tomura.

"you were teamed up with him fuckface!"

tomura simply shrugged, "I got bored and wanted to check on twice, see if he was alive,"

"well he is! but your partner fucking isnt!" hawks jammed his finger against the other mans chest, "and I think YOURE the cause!"

tomura raised his eyebrows, "I was with twice, right twice?" he did a 180 to stare hard at twice who looked up slightly and slowly nodded. that seemed to please tomura though as he turned back around, "see?"

"that doesnt mean shit! you were supposed to be with him!"

"but I wasnt."

"but you WERE! that's why the kid is dead!"

"I say we vote." shoto's voice was muffled by your neck and dabi's chest, where he was currently crammed in, but it was still intelligible.

you raise your head and wipe a few stray tears, "I think that's smart sho,"

you all nod and murmur in agreement.

"fine then. let's vote." hawks glares at tomura one last time, "who says skip?"

tomura, twice and shoto raise their hands.

"i dont think theres enough evidence." shoto explains and you nod, quietly telling him that theres nothing wrong with his belief.

hawks has a slight triumph look on his face, "who says that tomura is a fucking psychopath who likes to murder children!"

"murder a child. thirteen is practically twice my age" tomura corrects, "and besides I didn't do it."

hawks rolls his eyes, "whatever, everyone just vote."

you, dabi, hawks, deku and kaachan raise your hand, making you guys the winner.

"perfect." hawks drags tomura over to the ejecting room, usually used for heavier garbage that didnt fit in the disposal.

as you all surrounding the glass wall that separated you and tomura you cried a bit more.

sure you hated this dude but you still KNEW him!

"anything left to say sicko?" hawks glared at the smiling tomura.

"maybe you arent as much of a bird brain as I thought hawks. good job, you win," he does a slight bow like this was a performance before hawks pulls the lever, tomura's body flying out before hawks closed it again.

"he admitted to it." deku stated simply.

"yeah."

| next |

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sleep-i-ness · 4 years

Text

Mission Worries (Bucky Barnes x Stark!reader)

Summary: Bucky Barnes isn’t trusted to go on missions and Tony Stark’s niece would probably die the minute she stepped foot in the field, if her previous training sessions are anything to go by. So, they are forced to sit around while their self-sacrificing friends and family run around, trying to save the world.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death of mom, drinking

All MCU Taglist: @perfecthideoutvixen @1marvelavengers1

Bucky Taglist: @holybatflapexpert

Bucky lay on the couch, the ratty blanket, which appeared to have once been white but had yellowed with age, half tucked under him. He flicked mindlessly through the channels; eyes staring intently on the moving pictures yet seemingly also not quite there, his gaze sightless. Settling on a cheerful and colourful musical, his fingers worried at the tassels on the pillow beneath his head and Bucky couldn’t help but lose focus as his thoughts drifted to the past.

Bucky knew this movie. He’d seen it before, back in 1939, before the war, before everything really. He’d managed to convince Steve to allow him to buy them tickets. Although money was scarce, it had been a successful season and Bucky was determined to spoil Steve for once. To be honest, he had thought that the film was hilarious if not utterly ridiculous, but it was worth it to watch Steve’s enraptured face as it turned from black and white to glorious technicolour. Flying monkeys. Who’d come up with that?

His thoughts snapped back to the present as he heard the soft patter of footsteps from the kitchen, muscles immediately tensing. Stark’s niece soon came out, balancing a couple bowls of buttered microwave popcorn and a large glass of some miscellaneous liquid as you stumbled into the living room. You plonked yourself down onto the second couch and sighed as you heard the cheesy tunes, which only served to exacerbate the pulsing in your head. Taking a large swig from the glass of amber liquid, you grimaced. It ran down your throat, warming you from the inside out, and you stared at your glass, turning it back and forth to watch how the liquid rippled under the light.

“Is that whisky?” A deep voice interrupted your reverie, startling you away from your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s scotch malt whisky,” you glanced at the figure stretched out on the couch, barely keeping your eyes open. “You see, I went to go steal some of Tony’s clothes because he’s got really fancy taste and they’re super comfy because they’re always the highest quality cotton or whatever. But then I found the minibar and decided it would be really fun to try some of his scotch. It’s really good, d’you want some?”

It was then Bucky noticed you were wearing one of Tony’s oversized sweaters and sweatpants, a hand gripped so tightly around the glass that your fingers were turning white. Lowering your shaking arm, you reached out for the popcorn, the grease from the butter covering your fingers with a shine.

“He’ll be okay, you know?” Bucky knew what it was like to worry about your friends and family; he still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he needed to look after Steve. That he no longer had to keep an eye out for the little Manhattan boy. Sometimes, while out in New York, he still expected to round the corner of an alley and see Stevie sprawled on the floor. One thing Steve hadn’t lost over the past 70 years was his sense of justice and morality; he would stand up for what he believed in even if it meant disobeying his superiors. Bucky worried every time Steve went out on missions. With his past as the Winter Soldier, he still wasn’t trusted to join the rest of the Avengers and it meant that he couldn’t keep an eye on Steve, who was the most reckless little shit with no self-preservation instincts.

“Who? Tony? Yeah, I know, he’s always okay. A little battered and bruised but he survives.” You plastered a fake grin onto your face, trying desperately to convey in your tone that everything was just peachy.

You and Tony had never had the best relationship whilst your mom had been alive. He’d never been around; throwing wild parties that were renowned throughout the state, even the country. But once she’d died and he’d taken you in, you’d seen the man hidden beneath the facade. He was so much more than he would ever have himself believe. But your inability to shoot within a metre of a target and lack of fighting expertise meant you were never going to be trusted to head out into the field with him. Not that you particularly wanted to.

“You’re allowed to be worried; you don’t need to bottle it up.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. Can’t a girl have a drink without having some ulterior motive?” You chuckled, trying to play off the unnerving feeling that he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “So, the Wizard of Oz, huh? I didn’t have you pegged for the cheesy musical type.”

Bucky murmured some sort of assent at your remark, mostly absorbed by the film. You waited for a reply, nails tapping against the side of your glass.

“Oh, sorry, I got distracted. Yeah, not usually, but I saw this one with Steve before the war broke out,” Bucky’s face softened as he thought back to those days. God, everything was so much simpler. When the only thing he had to worry about was keeping Steve out of trouble and taking dames out.

“Sounds nice. Long time ago though, I’m surprised you remember. Aren’t old people supposed to lose their memory?” You giggled at Bucky’s mock offended expression and stuck one bowl of popcorn in his direction. “Take. I can’t eat two whole bowls by myself.”

“I’d like to let you know that I’m not that old,” Bucky grumbled. “But thanks. Is that offer for a drink still on the table?”

“Yeah, yeah. Lemme ask JARVIS.” You waved your hand in the air. “Hey J, does Tony have any whisky in here?”

“Mr Stark has said that he does not approve of your drinking as you’re, and I quote, ‘basically still a child.’” The disembodied voice still made Bucky jump. Another thing he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. On previous missions he’d never had to encounter a talking house. And he’d seen a lot of weird shit.

“You told him, J?” Your mouth dropped in surprise as you clasped a hand to your heart. “Oh, your betrayal wounds me, JARVIS. Truly, you’ve permanently lost my trust.”

“Yes Miss Stark,” JARVIS replied dryly. It was weird how a machine could express some semblance of emotion.

“Can you tell him that it’s for Bucky here? Actually no, quote me and say that it’s for Mr Barnes.” You winked lazily at Bucky, half falling off the sofa as you leant over one arm of it. “Don’t want Tony getting all protective because he got the wrong idea.”

“Mr Stark wishes for me to tell Sergeant Barnes that he’d better be keeping his hands off his niece. And that there is no way he is letting either of you touch his expensive whisky.”

You groaned playfully and Bucky felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth as he stared at you. You were always one for the theatrics, clearly a Stark by nature. Slumping over the arm of the sofa, you seemed deep in thought, fingers steepled.

Sliding off your seat, you scooched over to the wall. Running your fingertips over the joins idly, you narrowed your eyes at the minimalistic decor.

"I've got it!"

You leapt up, eyes alight with mischief. Your enthusiasm was infectious.

"You've got what, doll?" The pet name rolled off Bucky's tongue, and he waited with bated breath for what he was sure was to be a rejection or expression of disgust. You seemed to not even have noticed; fingers running along the back panelling.

"Here!" Your fingers curled round the edge of one panel, tugging it out. "You have to keep this a secret,” you tapped your nose conspiratorially, “Tony likes his hidden compartments. Unfortunately for him, I discovered that little secret a while ago."

You pulled out a bottle of amber liquid and Bucky watched as it sloshed against the glass, sparkling under the light. Pouring it out into a crystal cut glass, your tongue poked out from between your lips as you concentrated. Smiling triumphantly, you passed the glass over to Bucky, narrowly avoiding spilling it all over the varnished wooden floors.

"Thanks doll." Bucky's voice was husky, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. Odd. You’d never had that reaction towards him before, so you blamed it on the alcohol. Not the fact that Bucky was undeniably attractive and a million miles out of your league.

"No... no worries," you stammered, wetting your lips.

The awkward silence stretched out between you as you shifted in your seat, sighing as you couldn’t quite find a comfortable spot. You slipped out of the chair dramatically, whisky splashing over the rim of your glass as you threw your arms up in the air.

"D'you wanna come sit next to me?" Bucky offered tentatively, shifting over into more of a sitting position so that there was room.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Stop acting like a teenager around their first crush, you thought frustratedly. Although you didn’t quite believe your ears, there was no way in hell you were letting this opportunity slip by.

"Yeah, sure."

You sat in the gap he’d left for you, acutely aware of how close you were to him without touching. A familiar ache settled in your chest, the desperate longing for physical contact or some form of affection. The tips of your fingers brushed against his t-shirt as you placed your hands beside you; the simple touch igniting the frantic need inside you.

God, you were so worried for Tony.

Every time they went out on missions, you feared that the team would disembark, and you would stand there waiting for that familiar red-and-gold suit, but he wouldn’t emerge. That Captain Rogers would place a gentle hand on your shoulder and tell you the words you’d dreaded to hear.

He was just a man in a fancy piece of armour, trying to make the world a better place.

The Avengers was one hell of a fancy name for a hodgepodge team that sometimes couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as each other. And your uncle was part of them. Yes, you were so proud. But every time Tony told you he had another mission, your heart sank, and you prayed that he’d make it back in one piece.

You shrunk into yourself, eyes glazed as you wrapped your arms tightly around your midriff. Bucky’s proximity was achingly comforting, his presence making your world feel a little safer.

But all you wanted was to be in his arms.

However, for fear of frightening him off, you sat still, back stiff as a poker. Millimetres away from making contact but too hesitant to even try.

“Y/N, that sure doesn’t look comfortable, sitting like that. You alright?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at your rigid posture, “I can shift over more if you’d prefer?”

“No, no, I’m all good,” your words rushed out, not wanting to put him through any trouble.

Bucky’s eyes never left you as the almost offensively cheery show tunes blared in the background, a sharp contrast to the way your chest felt restricted as you blinked back unwillingly tears.

“Come here, sugar.” Bucky spoke softly, placing his arm on the back of the sofa and opening up his body towards you. You shuffled closer, hesitantly leaning your head on his shoulder. Bucky’s arm slipped around you, pulling you closer. “Now do you wanna talk about it?”

You bit your lip, eyes welling as you tried to bottle your emotions back up.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. If you’re more enticed by watching this cheesy horror show, just lemme know. But I’m here if you wanna talk to someone.”

You cracked a small smile at his quip about the film, eyes downcast as you played with your hands.

“I’m just so fucking worried for Tony.”

The words burst out of their own accord, followed swiftly by a traitorous tear which trickled down your cheek. You brushed the back of your hand roughly under your eye, swiping away any other tears that threatened to fall.

Bucky stayed quiet, prompting you to continue talking.

“Every single time he goes out on a mission, I’m worried I’ll get a call saying he didn’t make it. Because Tony is so stupidly self-sacrificing. You heard about New York and the bomb; I’m terrified, absolutely fucking terrified, he’ll decide to pull a New York 2.0 and I’ll never see him again. All everyone knows is this cocky, charismatic man that he plays the part of to the rest of the world but I’m scared that Tony will never realise how fucking amazing he is ‘cause he’s stuck in his father’s shadow. And maybe if he does, he won’t feel like he has to single-handedly save the world. Even if he must sacrifice himself for it. And I know that is so selfish. But he’s done so much for me… Without him, I don’t know what I would’ve done after my mother’s death. And he’s my only family left.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, exhaling softly. “At the end of the day, he’s just a man wearing some fancy armour. Not trained, not scientifically enhanced. However, he doesn’t seem to realise his own mortality.”

A deep breath, a pause.

Your bottom lip quivered, and you buried your head in Bucky’s shoulder, the fabric dampening as your body was wracked with sobs. You felt so silly, crying to a man who probably didn’t really want to hear your problems and was just being polite.

Bucky placed a hand on your lower back, gently massaging circles with his thumb. “It’s okay, doll. It is completely valid to worry about him. I guarantee that Tony would do anything and everything in his capability to come back to you in one piece. But I am always here for you if you feel worried or scared.”

You could feel his voice rumbling in his chest and you curled into him, lifting your head up to blink tearily at him. “Thanks, Buck.”

You wondered how he felt, knowing that his best friend was out risking his life while he still wasn’t trusted to leave the compound without a team tailing him. Did he also worry for Captain Rogers? Or did he feel secure in the fact that the Captain had the super-soldier serum and therefore was practically invincible?

The TV blared in the background- And oh, Auntie Em there's no place like home! The irritatingly joyous voice of Dorothy was perpetually annoying, no matter when or where you heard it. You missed the days when you’d watch these musicals and never get bored, enraptured by the stories and music. Life was so much simpler before your mom fell ill. Before you moved into the Tower and then into the compound when you’d finished college.

You were thankful that Tony had offered you a place to stay even after he had put you through college and had no legal obligations to look after you anymore. But you felt like an impediment and a nuisance because you always seemed to be in the way.

A degree in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science was not particularly useful for the hands-on type of situations that occurred at the compound. Not over a week ago, you’d found yourself in the gym with Agent Barton who had kindly offered to teach you some form of self-defence. To say it went badly was an understatement.

And now you were being a nuisance to Bucky, the one person who hadn’t yet seen you as an unnecessary resident.

“I’m sorry for being such a pain. Thanks for listening, but I was just overreacting,” you sniffled as you tried to pull away from where you lay nestled into his chest. However, his arm kept you close.

“Y/N, I mean it,” Bucky gently lifted your head, two fingers under your chin, to make eye contact. “You are not being a nuisance. I enjoy your company and I am always here for you to talk to. Always.”

You stared into his baby-blues, pulling your lip between your teeth. His thumb hovered by the side of your face, two fingers still holding your head up, and you held your breath. You didn’t want to break the moment.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm rang out, signalling the team’s return. You jumped apart, eyes wide as you listened out for the pattern of the alarm.

The short repetition of regular beeps meant that the mission had gone down smoothly, and you felt a wave of calm rush over you. Bucky sighed beside you and you turned to him with a relieved grin, all thoughts of your previous position gone.

“They’re fine.” You exhaled, resting your head once again against Bucky’ shoulder. “Do you want to go meet them in the tactical room? We could probably sneak into their debrief.”

Bucky’s smile was almost wistful as he gazed at you. “Whatever you want, doll.”

You hesitated; something was niggling at you, as if you were forgetting to do something first. Exhaling softly, you glanced down at Bucky’s lips. Why not? You could always blame it on the alcohol if he rejected you.

You leant in and softly pressed your lips to his.

Pulling away, you brushed a strand of hair that had fallen in your eyes behind your ear. His face was unreadable. Oh God. Now you’d really gone and fucked it up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I-”

Bucky cut you off, grabbing your hips as he hauled you onto his lap. “Don’t apologise, doll.”

His eyes were stunningly blue.

All further thoughts were promptly wiped as he brought his lips down to yours. His arms were around you and his insistent lips parted yours, creating sensations you’d never felt before. Feeling as if you were drowning, his arms were the only thing keeping you from going under. You could taste faint whisky and the scent of his cologne filled your senses, evoking a fire in your veins. You hadn’t ever felt such a desire for someone before, and, before the swimming giddiness took you over, you wrapped your legs round his hips.

Bucky’s hand slipped from your hips to grab your ass, and suddenly you understood why people describe kissing as intoxicating. Every inch of your body seemed to melt into his touch, craving more, as you entwined your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The hand gently cupping your cheek drew lines of flames across your skin, aching with desire.

“Get the fuck off away from my niece.” Tony burst in, repulsor raised as he gritted out his words. “Now, Barnes.”

You leapt off him, hands raised as Tony glared at the man you’d just been sitting on. The lack of nicknames or funny quips showed just how pissed off he was.

Without Captain Rogers or Agent Romanoff, you weren’t sure what you would have done. They forced Tony to go back to mission debrief, although you’d caught the wink the Captain had given Bucky. You had heard Tony threatening to chuck a certain ex-assassin out of the compound all the way down the corridor, but it would hopefully give him time to cool off.

And to somewhat accept what he’d seen.

Somewhat.

Bucky chuckled softly. “That was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” You murmured in agreement, sitting back down to lean against him. You didn’t think you’d have to worry too much about feeling lonely during missions anymore.

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guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom · 4 years

Text

Blessing in Disguise

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Hospitals, Explosions, depictions of pain, allusions to mania and depression, self harm/unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of death and the dead, gambling, potential underage drinking, theft, guns, gun violence, depictions of bullet wounds, and drunk people.

Word Count: 3.4k

Songs: All the kids are depressed- Jeremy Zucker, Everywhere- Chloe x Halle, Middle Child- J. Cole, She Knows- J. Cole, Breezeblocks- alt-J, Pussycat Doll-Flo Milli, It’s Been So Long- The Living Tombstone, Take me to Church- Hozier, Good Kid- Kendrick Lamar, Death of a Bachelor- Panic! At the Disco, Them Changes- Thundercat, Detention- Melanie Martinez, Recess- Melanie Martinez, Something for your M.I.N.D- Superorganism

A/N: I actually hate this chapter because I feel like the writing doesn’t flow. I feel like it’s to jampacked with things that don’t do anything to push the story forward. Anyway I hope you still read it anyways.

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

I did the hand sign stating I’d stand. I knew I won for sure this time because I had a perfect hand of 21. The two other people playing against groaned as I was declared the winner yet again.

Swiping the chips for the 3rd time since I’d been at the casino. I decided to take my wins and make my way to the bar that our “target” was residing.

I had a hunch on where Carmen was but had no actual idea. I’d just text her. In the meantime I had this grown ass man to make a move on.

I was like 97% sure I had the right guy anyway. I looked much older than usual tonight due to Carmen being a makeup goddess and I gotta say flirting can get you a long way.

“Hey,” I spoke, sitting on the bar stool next to the man.

He looked up at me mumbling a quick hey.

“You expecting someone?”

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’ “What about you?”

“Same as you,”

“Now I don’t believe someone as beautiful as you is here alone,” He moved his arm that much closer to mine. I pushed out a smile and giggled.

“I could say the same about you,” We made eye contact for a second “But no seriously, I’m just here with a girlfriend. It was my birthday yesterday but she wasn’t free so we came out today,” I lied.

“How old did you turn?”

“Twenty Two,” He nodded seemingly content with the answer.

“So you’re not around here are you?”

“Either you’re a genius or I’m just very bad at blending in, no I’m from New York,”

“Ah, I have some friends in New York, which part?”

“Harlem actually but I recently moved to Queens,” I lied again.

“Oh I don’t many from those cities,”

“If we're being honest I don’t know many people from Queens either my life’s been more hectic ever since I moved,”

“I hear you,” He informed me, leaning on the small backing the stools had.

We talked for about 15 more minutes, him explaining the switch between New York to Nevada. Then Carmen walked up to me and feigned drunkenness signaling she was done with her job. I made my way back. To the man who’s name I still hadn’t learned.

“As much fun as I was having talking to you, my friend is way too drunk to be out in public so we should probably head back to the hotel.” I sat back on the barstool turning my legs towards the man batting my eyes

“Could I possibly use your phone to call an Uber mine is dead?”

“Yeah of course you can…” His sentence fizzed off at the end in place of where my name would be.

“Ciara,” I filled in “And you are?”

“Jim” He started handing me the phone.

I used his phone for an entirely different reason than I’d claimed. The project Carmen had been working on was melting the wires together to fix the flash drive that works inside of phones. It hadn’t worked in years.

It took about a minute to duplicate the phone's data. I stuck the flash drive in my bra before going to give the phone back.

Just as I started moving a loud argument broke out, by the drunk accents I could tell it would soon get violent. Seeing as I had many experiences with an aggressive drunk. I wasn’t going to take my chances and began turning towards the main exit.

I heard the first shot echo followed by another. Soon everyone was shooting. Including Carmen who I think just wanted an excuse to shoot at people passing it off as “protecting her friends”.

She was closer to the exit than I was so she slid me the gun and I was able to ward off anyone shooting in our general direction. Not for long though. A bullet lightly grazed my dominant arm’s shoulder; it still dug in enough to do some sweet damage.

Fuck

What’s up with me? I haven’t been on my A game lately.

We were also out of bullets. Mostly because we weren’t actually expecting to have to fucking shoot at people. I ducked back down behind the bar trying not to get caught on the broken glassware.

“I think it would be a good time to do that thing?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes

“You know I hate doing it,”

“Well I’m literally bleeding out,” I dramatized pointing to my shoulder. “So if you want to get out of here not in body bags, do the thing,”

“Alright, just this one time,” She begrudgingly made her way out from behind the bar and away from me.

I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the glass around me rained down and the bar shook. I could slightly hear the cries from beneath my hands. Once she moved back over to me

“See that wasn’t so bad, birdy,” I scrambled up to my feet ignoring the pull in my shoulder.

I made my rounds grabbing Jim’s phone, cash, wallets, watches, and anything else that looked expensive from pockets and the ground.

I stood awkwardly staring at my feet as I slid from side to side with my butt planted on my skateboard.

“Hi,” I heard squinting my eyes looking up revealing a equally nervous looking Peter

“Hey,” I nodded at him.

The conversation wasn’t as awkward as I thought it’d be he’d apparently asked Liz to prom and he said yes. Which I was definitely super happy about because why wouldn’t I be?

Anyway who cares about that anyway. Props to Peter for not bringing up the whole ghosting everyone thing for like a week thing. Because if he didn’t bring it up I was going to act like it never happened.

We talked about everything and anything. From favorite candies or colors to our beliefs about life after death. I’d found out his favorite candy were skittles, favorite color: red and that he was Jewish but not necessarily religious and didn’t believe in heaven or hell but he believed in the eternity of a soul.

I’d told him that my favorite candy was F/C, my favorite color being pink and that I didn’t know what I believed in. I believed in a higher power but not that they were inherently good because of all the suffering on earth. I’d told him if they weren’t good and had abandoned us while alive. Why would they care or have any plan for us into the afterlife? I think that part is up to us, and what we believe. I’m trying not to think about death.

Then like clockwork he had to leave before 9 which is funny because it’s like he wasn’t even trying to hide his secret identity. He’d told me he lost the internship and normally his excuse to leave was the internship.

I just guess that means he no longer has Stark’s backup. He only had it for a while anyway he’d be fine without it again. Actually when I think about it, from his behavior he’d exhibited as Spiderman in the short few months I’d had the displeasure of knowing him as ‘Thorn’ he’d be weak. He was unconfident, relied on his tools far too much. Couldn’t see himself without the suit. So maybe he was really just going home. So he’d be fine.

I’d also be fine. No matter how much it didn’t look like it at the moment. I’d be fine. I was always fine. I was fine without my mom, without Rose, without my dad, without Olivia and any one else I’d ever been stupid enough to get attached to. I’d bounce back. I always did.

It’d taken Carmen much convincing to not sit around and babysit me 24/7 because of my shoulder. She was sure that I’d do something dumb and it would get infected.

I was sitting on MJ’s bed getting ready for homecoming. My neck jerked again as Bri attempted to detangle and braid my hair.

If I hadn’t spiraled into the Vulture, Kingpin and SHIELD, rabbit hole I probably would have taken better care of myself and my hair.

“Stop moving,” She tsked.

“Stop trying to rip my head off my neck,” I hissed back.

Bri did my nails back when we were still at her house waiting for MJ to pick us up. She actually did pretty good. I think she would do great at a cosmetology school. She's pretty much into everything: hair, nails, makeup the whole nine yards. She did all of that for me.

The make up was very simple, but I was still able to get my signature winged eyeliner. Winged eyeliner is something very dear to me mostly because Rose was the first to put me on it and I wore it everyday since. It kinda felt disrespectful to stop at this point.

The only thing left was the dress MJ had gifted me. Her mom bought her a dress but she still refused to wear dresses so she returned it for this one, she opted for a very nice pantsuit she already had. Then Bri's outfit of course matched her boyfriend’s.

I’ve never really liked school dances they’re always so overhyped, but I go to them all anyways, because then I get in on all the drama. It helped me build up my arsenal of knowledge about everyone.

I was sitting at one of the round tables near the entrance with MJ, Bri, and Olivia. We had a bottle of “Gatorade” open and out for anybody who wanted to drink it. I was about to drink from it when I saw Liz enter alone.

I made my way over to her.

“Where’s Peter? I thought he asked you?”

“I don’t even know he just ditched me,” She let out a deep breath.

“Aw I’m sorry,” I wrapped my good arm around her shoulder.

“Well don’t think about that asshole, you’re way out of his league anyway,” I assured her to which she let out a weak laugh.

“Come sit with me and my friends,”

A girl with knockers dancing all along her head came up to before speaking

“Why are you crying?”

I sniffed pulling my head from my arms.

“I miss my mom,”

“I miss my mom sometimes but I like my grandma too,”

“Where’s your mom?” I asked.

“I don’t know my grandma says she’s sick,” She shrugged. “Where’s your mom?”

“Well my grandma says she’s in a better place now but I know that just means dead,”

“Yeah my dad is dead too so I know what you mean, I’m Rose. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,”

“Y/N, that's a pretty name,” She smiled. “You wanna come sit with me and my friends Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

I jumped a bit at the voice before matching it to MJ

“What?” I asked in a harsher tone then necessary.

“Jeez sorry,” She reeled back “Someone is asking for you named Carmen. They said it’s important,” She waved her phone around.

My face dropped and I hoped no one caught it.

I grabbed the phone exiting the auditorium.

“Okay what’s up?”

“You know Liz’s dad whatever her name is but yeah, He’s gonna rob that plane that’s moving everything from the Avengers tower,” She rushed

“What!?”

Holy shit

That must be where Peter’s went. So he figured it out too. Kid’s smarter than I give him credit for.

“I’ll send you the location on your phone,”

“Why didn’t you just call me from there?”

“Because you never answer it,”

“True,”

“Y/N?” She whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful,”

“Always,” I smiled.

I rushed out of the building not thinking about how I could get caught. Near the buses there was the new Shocker lying unconscious.

I took the webshooter I found next to him. Then made a run for it. Stopping to hot wire the nearest car, I sped to one of the locations that I knew Vulture’s team kept their weapons at. I was throwing everything in the same pile. Getting ready to destroy them.

Then the door creaked open.

I felt the bed dip as my brother sat next to me.

“Are you coming?”

I pulled the cover off my face

“Why should I?”

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t,”

“No I won’t leave me alone,” I pulled the cover back over my head.

“You gotta eat something,”

“No I don’t leave me alone,”

“Y/N…”

I knew what he was going to say and I didn’t wanna hear it.

“She would want you to eat something,”

“Fuck you! How would you ever know what she would've wanted? No one here knew her and now one will ever get the chance to again so just leave me alone,”

“Y/N-“

“Don’t Y/N me, get the fuck out of my room,” He sat there for a second, stunned “NOW!”

As soon as the door closed and I flipped back over

I was shaken back into the present only to find that I was pinned under the man who’d entered the room before I zoned out. He reached for the nearest weapon. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Which is rare. I have a whole weapons catalog in my brain. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t grab it without giving me leeway to get from underneath them.

Unfortunately for me I put too much pressure on my arm in the seconds I took to grip my shoulder recuperating myself. The man had fired the weapon he had at the pile of weapons that I stumbled back towards.

The weapons then emitted purple light before exploding leaving me caught under some wood and concrete as the ringing in my ears only got louder and louder.

The fire around me crackled loudly and I bit my lip.

The smoke was only getting more plentiful.

I started coughing which only got more and more painful.

When I came to myself, I wasn’t choking anymore and the fire around me had died down. I was able to push myself from underneath the rubble holding me down. Not without lots of pain though.

The dress I was wearing was torn completely, holes big enough to see what I was wearing underneath it already.

So I just took it off.

It wasn’t like I was completely naked I was wearing boxers. Not like I haven’t left the house in a bra and shorts before. Also who gives a fuck I just almost died.

It was like 35° but I wasn’t cold in the slightest. I was actually kind of hot.

If my phone was accurate the plane had already made it near the edge of Queens and Staten Island. Rushing there I was seconds late as I saw the plane crash after I saw two figures fighting along it.

There was fire everywhere but I wasn’t thinking. I was just running because I couldn’t make out Peter’s shape and if he was dead-

I swear to fucking God if he was dead. Not again. I couldn’t handle another death.

Peter was saying something. No, pleading as the Vulture stood tall with his wings still intact. He was talking about how it was a nice try and he doesn’t know what he’s messing with.

Peter might not but I knew what this was. I also knew I wasn’t letting him get away with it.

The wings started producing visible waves of heat. Then it hit me, what Peter was trying to say. The wings were gonna blow. I got a head start and lunged towards the man. The element of surprise was on my side. That was until he used the wings to lift himself off the ground.

Now I was fine with parkour and other activities, but being lifted off the ground by someone else, someone who’d never interacted with me ever, is where I draw the line. Then Peter was shooting a web at the wings. To which Vulture dropped me to go after him.

Oh hell no.

“Give it up Peter,” He continued to get closer and closer as the webs were continuously cut through.

You know how people say they see in red when they get angry? Well the opposite of that happens to me I just see black. Remembering very little to nothing.

Last thing I remembered was fire just fire. From my fingertips, arms, head. It destroyed the wings in seconds, before they had a chance to blow up on their own.

Peter webbed up the man before moving out of my sight.

How the fuck do you get fire coming from your body.

Literally what the actual fuck.

I couldn’t breathe.

That’s what it was, I was dying, I was probably in some coma and this was a weird hallucination my brain pushed out in its final moments.

Okay this is it. I was dying suffocating in some coma.

Or even worse this wasn’t a coma and I was going to die with my body lit on fire literally.

“Oh my God,” I gasped trying to get air into my lungs.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them Peter was in front of me in a torn up ripoff suit.

“Y/N,” He moved trying to catch my eye.

“Y/N, Y/N breathe…”

I couldn’t really process his words. My mind was clouded with fear, fear and anger.

Before I knew it I was hitting my head so I wouldn’t hit anyone or anything else. It’d been a coping mechanism I used ever since I was 3.

Peter reached for my arms reeling back after his hands came into contact with my boiling skin.

“Y/N you have to calm down,” He moved in front of me.

I stopped moving my hands but it was still difficult to breathe.

The monitors beeped all around me and if I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough. I could convince myself they were birds.

I could tell from the patter of the knock on the door that it was Rose.

“Come in!” I called out.

She picked up the clipboard examining it. As she did every time she visited. Luckily for everyone there was no nurse she could bombard with questions and criticism.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Itchy, like my guts are on fire,”

To which she replied by singing the chorus to Girl on Fire.

“Anyway,” she brought us back after our laughter. “I got you pizza today since I’m sure you’re tired of McDonald’s,”

“I don’t mind McDonald’s actually, anything is better than hospital food. Well actually, their chicken strips aren’t that bad,”

She placed the box down on my lap. I lifted up the lid and was hit with the smell of the many herbs. I pat by my legs signaling she could sit down. She wiggled into the spot that the bar of the bed allowed.

“What are we watching today?”

“Uh…” I clicked on the TV “Vampire Diaries?,”

“That show is still going?

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll ever end,”

Somehow the show turned into us dancing around the cramped hospital room.

We spun like the ballerinas in the broken jewelry box I got from my mom. Arms flailing around. The air conditioner made a rattling noise and a half eaten pizza on the bed. The situation was probably extremely weird or unpleasant from any other perspective, but because it was her it was perfect.

It was like the moment in rom coms where the camera zooms into the main characters dancing as the rest of the characters are put out of focus and they stare into each other’s eyes. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them I saw Peter’s eyes above mine.

His hands were immediately on my face making my look straight at him.

“Are you okay?” He breathed out.

I sat up feeling a pounding in my head and a pull in my lungs. I was met with the fact that I was definitely not on the ground. I was actually very far from the ground on some ride on the pier. My mouth was dry so it took me a minute to get the words out and when I did it hurt my throat.

“Yeah ’m okay jus’ tired,”

“Okay, well don’t go back to sleep because I think you have a concussion,”

“You’re acting like I died or something, how long was I out dang,” I joked I always hated when things got too serious.

“Uh probably...30 minutes? I don’t know I don’t have a watch,” He sniffed and that's when I realized he’d be crying.

“Were you crying? I knew you cared about me,” I smiled “It was only a matter of time before you fell in love with me, I’m irresistible”

He laughed weakly wiping his eyes “This isn’t funny,”

I looked up at him and started uncontrollably giggling. Soon Peter was laughing too.

The moment was interrupted by a squad of police cars pulling up. I absolutely did not want to get down but my tired muscles betrayed me. I was extremely exhausted. I literally could not move. I just had to go wherever Peter decided to take me. I honestly think I might have a few broken ribs. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before though. We stood off to the side watching as Vulture was stuffed into the back of one of the cars.

“So Spiderman?” I smirked.

“Uh.. no?” He said as if he’s questioning himself.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone I’ve known for a while now,” I twisted my body to face him hissing as a sharp sting shot through my body “You're not very good at hiding it,”

“Hey!” He cried out “But seriously you can’t tell anyone,”

“I already said I wouldn’t, but if it makes you feel better I’ll pinky promise you, and everyone knows you can’t break a pinky promise,”

“Alright,” He sighed.

I tried to move closer again and was stopped by the pain in my sides.

“Okay well, the offer still stands, you’re just gonna have to come over here,”

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