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ninapi · 1 year

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Save me (Ushijima Version)

Premise: Ushijima struggles to understand the concept of love and what is expected of him in said equation, but he finds himself in the predicament of wanting nothing more than to be with the woman he loves even if it gets in the way of his established lifestyle.

Word Count: 3173

Chapter 5: Love letter.

Being a teen isn’t the easiest thing there is. Your body changes, your mood does too, constantly. It’s a journey of self-discovery where you learn who you truly are and what you want to do with the rest of your life. It’s a moment in life when you experience a lot of first times, a moment to learn from your mistakes and grow.

For Ushijima it was the moment he first experienced not just love, but a whole new array of emotions.

Being sad, angry, anxious, happy, excited, they were all so different, and when majority of people experience them all while growing up slowly, one at a time preparing them for later in life, he got to experience them all at once in a matter of just a couple of months.

His mother was present, but active parenting wasn’t her thing. Not having his dad around also didn’t help young Ushijima to develop a sense of understanding for human nature, it wasn’t until you arrived in his life that he had to learn how to deal with raw emotions, and that could be really overwhelming for someone who doesn’t have a strong support network.

But he had you now.

You’ve been his girlfriend for the last three months and he wouldn’t tell anyone otherwise, he was a happy man.

He had a bright future ahead, the pro-league already waiting for him to graduate to welcome him with their arms open, his last year of school was his best in academic records for him and he met the love of his life. He honestly never thought he’d go through such a thing. Love was a foreign concept for him, always shown in media but always so far from reality, almost like a myth. So, when he sees himself now, smiling like a fool hearing you blabbing about cake ingredients and cooking instructions in the phone, he thinks he possibly reached that farfetched reality.

“Let me know if you need me to go buy some ointment, I can drop by your dorm.” It was very late at night, you weren’t even supposed to be in the kitchen at this time, but you wanted to try this new recipe you found online and share it with your boyfriend, he was always excited to eat new things. “I just bumped my pinky in the oven, Toshi. I’ll be fine.” these are the things that make you believe fairy tales might be real, maybe prince charming was a bit fake, but there are men out there that do deserve such a title. “Alright, I’ll kiss it better tomorrow then.”

You thought it would take longer for him to grasp the concept of being in a relationship, and it was a bit rough at the beginning, the manhandling was still present, he’s just too big and managing his own strength can be a task, but he’s been working on it diligently and his touch was gentler now a days. His kissing had also improved, a lot. Him figuring out it was easier than talking, gave a sudden turn to the relationship. He still doesn’t know when to stop and has been having to deal with the biggest problem for teen boys there is, their hormones.

It was quite a surprise, having him pull you onto his lap, groan into the heavy kiss. He didn’t quite understand what his body was craving with intensity, but you weren’t making things easier for him in the slightest. The way you looked at him, breathless, your eyes quietly asking for more.

Tendo on the other hand, knew exactly what he needed and after a very embarrassing conversation that took hours, he now knows about his body’s human preservation needs.

To be fair, only Tendo knows about this. He was still the same stoic captain kicking everyone’s asses in each game, thriving even more than usual in his element. The rest of the team knew you were officially a thing now, but that was it. He was softer with everyone, his own steps became lighter as days went by. You would make lunch for the both of you and would always eat together. Nobody dared to interrupt the little piece of heaven you created on a lone hill at the back of the school, even if they all knew about it.

For you, nothing had really changed, but you were in a good mood all the time and even started liking Shirabu, at least a little bit. You got to work in a school project together and after falling asleep on the library mocking each other for an entire afternoon you are now in good terms, you have his phone number and all.

Bonding became a thing for you and his team, Goshiki started calling you ‘nee-san’ and was more like a puppy trailing after you every time he saw you. His goal was to be like Ushijima, so at first all he wanted from you was to learn more about him to understand him a bit better, but ended up being even more sure that his goal was to be like him, maybe one day he would meet someone as wonderful as you to guide him through his career and support him the way you do.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Your second year of high school wrapped up successfully. You were top of your class, your boyfriend graduated with honors and will be forever in the hall of fame for Shiratorizawa. You made so many friends and memories to treasure for the rest of your life, it was a well spent year.

Though it was hard saying your good-byes to Semi and Tendo, they both have been such an important part of your life, you would see Semi around, but your feisty friend would be chasing his dream, leaving all behind to go to Paris. It was harder on Ushijima that he thought it would, he remembers thinking how he’s never missed Tendo, but that was just because he was always there. Truth is, without Tendo in his life things wouldn’t have been the way they are now. He was a wonderful friend. His best friend. And saying goodbye to the people you love is hard.

“Wakatoshi-kun, are you crying?” he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, poking the side of his hard rock abs, “Dust got in my eye.” that made your messy sobbing self chuckle, “We’ll miss you. Make sure to call us often. I don’t know if I can handle Toshi by myself.” Tendo gathered you in his arms, rubbing your back, he never thought the loud angsty girl that was snooping around the gym that spring afternoon would become such an important part of his life. You were his best friend’s girl, but you were also so much more, the only female friendship he’s been able to maintain this long, the only girl who accepted him for what he was, fully. You were caring and understanding, he was glad you would be there for his friend, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to leave and follow his dreams with ease. “I will. Take care of the big guy for me, ok? Give yourself some credit, you’re fabulous. Don’t miss me too much or I will have to come back.” you pulled your man into the hug, laughing together. This would be the last time in a while that the three of you would share the same space.

After seeing Tendo off in the airport, Ushijima, who now had a car, given to him by his sponsors, drove you back to the school. He would have to confront adulthood on his own for a while, but he was confident everything would be just fine. You still had a year to go, and he wanted to take this time away to do some personal growth. He was used to the intense practicing hours and the extremely high expectations of the people behind his future, it was just a new environment, a new team. He would even be able to still see known faces soon as they start to prepare for the Olympics. His career was already set for him, all he had to do was continue living the life he normally lives. But what about you? He had so many questions, he was still unsure of how to move on in a relationship, he was certain he wanted you in his life for as long as it was possible and has done his fair share of research, but your thoughts were still unknown to him.

He stopped along the way, a nice restaurant was advertising your favorite and he just had to take you there, it was a good moment to talk about the future, he thought. Having seen Tendo leave just now made his resolution much stronger, if seeing him go was this hard, he doesn’t want to even imagine what seeing you go would feel like.

“Toshi, this is delicious! I’m so glad we stopped here. It’s a shame we can’t bring Tendo with us another time, I’m sure he would have loved it…” you were about to start crying again so he reached over for your hand, contemplating life for a moment.

“My love.” his tone was so soft, it was almost like a breathless whisper, “Would it be ok for me to hope of a future where you are by my side until we grow old?” if you thought having cake for lunch was going to be the only thing making you cry, you were wrong, this man…seriously. ”If that’s what you want, I want it too.” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, getting closer to feed you some of the decadent treat. “That’s all I want.”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Kageyama had been quiet ever since your last encounter. He had come to terms with the fact that your relationship with Ushijima seemed to be strong enough. It’s not the same a pre-teen relationship with no future than dealing with a very established one stepping into adulthood.

He respected Ushijima, not only as the fantastic player he was, but as a man. He made it one of his goals to be as good as him, to deserve being in the same team as the best player Japan’s future has to offer. And with this, came the acceptance he was looking for. If he was this great of a man, it made complete sense why you fell in love with him. He’s seen you two around a couple of times even if he didn’t tell you about it. There were times he would walk aimlessly, lost in thought, and would always end up in Shiratorizawa. Only a couple of times he did see you though, but you were always with Ushijima, he would hold you close, keep you warm, kiss your head with adoration. Even from his hiding place he could feel the amount of love both of you had for each other and he was ok with that, if it was a man deserving of your love then he would have to accept it and live with that.

He was young and didn’t understand what love was when it mattered the most. He might have lost the woman he loved, twice, but he would always have his best friend. The only person to ever love him truly, respect him, understand him. You were the most important person to him and even though gaining Ushijima’s respect was in the top of his list, getting you back as an active part of his life was just the most important of all.

“(Y/N), how’s life as a third year? Missing me much?” you could hear his smug grin on the other side of the line, it made you smile. “I’ve missed you every day, for the longest time. Life’s good. Ready to be an adult.”

Having his friendship back was the only thing missing in your life for it to be perfect. He had always been the most important person to you, knowing you broke his heart more than once still made you lose sleep. Wanting him back in your life might be a selfish wish, but you hoped he was willing to let you back in.

“I was thinking. Maybe we can hang out one of these days? You can bring your scary boyfriend if you want to, I don’t want things to be awkward.”

“Why can’t you be honest with yourself and tell me you wanna hang out with Japan’s best wing spiker? I can totally see through your bullshit, Tobio.” Laughing together felt good, the ice covering his heart was finally starting to melt. He would do his part, be there for you like he always did. If Ushijima ever hurt you, he would step in, that was his roll after all, but somehow, even if for him was a little discouraging, he didn’t think he would have to fulfill said roll ever again. He was pretty convinced this one would stick around, and he would be the one kicked if he wasn’t careful enough.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Ushijima has been a famous athlete for as long as he can remember. Even as a child, he would constantly bring medals and trophies home. But now that he was actually making a living out of it, stress was getting to him.

TV interviews, sports magazines, big events, those were things he would rarely have to face in the past and being the awkward guy he was, it became much of a nightmare. He wished you could be there for him always, that things could go back to how they were in school. Whenever he felt unsure or extremely tired, all he had to do was go down a flight of stairs and you’d be there to comfort him. But now, he has to wait for the weekend to come and that’s when he’s the busiest, so the time he gets to spend with you is too minimal for his taste.

Scrolling through his phone, he finds a bunch of notes he’s been taking on his research days. He’s been seriously trying to improve your relationship, he knows he can be a handful sometimes and doesn’t want to disappoint you in any way, he wanted to strengthen your bond, to make sure you knew he was yours to do as you pleased.

One note in particular got his attention.

He read an article about the most romantic actions to take to advance in a relationship, the number one rated being a letter. He has troubles speaking in general, writing a letter sounded like a terrible idea, but that just gave it most importance. It would take him out of his comfort zone, and he would finally be able to convey the thoughts that have been invading his being lately. He even stopped by a fancy stationary shop the other day to get a letter set, and something else he wanted to include in said letter. The time had come. He wanted to give it to you on your graduation and that was just a couple of days away.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Seeing ‘your baby’ a.k.a Goshiki sobbing on your chest, smashing his drenched nose onto your lovely outfit, was probably your most treasured memory of the entire graduation ceremony. Mostly all the original volleyball team were now officially gone, he would have to take care of everything by himself, not even you would be there to help him now. It was heart wrenching for him to see you and Shirabu leave, but he’s had a good high school experience, he was sure he’d see you both often.

And just like that, the school days were over for you.

Your boyfriend was waiting for you, sitting on the hood of his car, holding an impossibly big flower arrangement. Your parents headed home first to give you some time alone with your other half, taking the flowers to safety.

“They’re beautiful, Toshi. Thank you.” the smile gracing your lips was otherworldly, he thought you’d be a sobbing mess as usual, but you didn’t cry today, not even once. You were more than ready to leave this place and continue with your life, even if you weren’t really sure about what you wanted to do next.

“I wrote you a letter. Here. But don’t read it yet, let’s go somewhere quieter first.” you just nodded, examining the envelope, it was heavier than you expected a letter to be, and it picked your interest. The entire ride was made up of you re-telling the conversations you had with Goshiki and Shirabu about the future of the club, there was still fondness in his heart for his young teammates, he wished he would see them again in the field one day, since majority of his generation decided against it.

You were honestly speechless when you realized where he was taking you to. You were now standing on sand, a place equally special to the both of you. “Oh my god, Toshi! I haven’t been here since the training camp! And to think the stars are even more beautiful tonight, unbelievable.” running around the beach, your heart felt so full, even reading the letter seemed like it would slice your heart in two.

“Come here.” he patted his lap, handing you his letter once you were comfortably sitting between his legs. He had pulled out the piece of paper from the envelope, keeping it to himself while you read it.

It was honestly quite short; you expected a novel by how heavy it was. “(Y/N), my love. Life is so hard when you aren’t by my side. Could I be so selfish to ask you to share your life with me permanently?” just a couple of sentences, but when you looked up at him, he was holding a very shimmery ring, waiting for your approval. That’s when it hit you. He was asking you to marry him in a very Ushijima-like way. Tears were now flowing from your beautiful eyes, nodding like a crazy person. He took your hand in his gently, sliding the ring down your finger at the same time as he captured your lips in a slow kiss that was spilling with adoration and immense love in both sides.

Your future had always been bright, you knew you’d do great things eventually. But it has never been as promising as tonight.

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Tagged babes: @dazaisfavgf, @lauraagrace, @san-emi

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years

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Sicktember Day 26 - Tickle in Throat ALT Cuddles on the Couch - N/A - Season 3

“Mr. Munson, if you would see me after class,” Mallory Lindham’s voice rings out near the end of English 4.

A few students look over at him, mostly the new ones who don’t know this is his second time taking this stupid class, the ones who think he might just look slightly older for his age. Eddie nods, caught between feeling annoyed and simply tired of the bullshit he gets from this school. He’s acutely aware he’s seen as a ‘problem’ to most the Hawkins High faculty, and he’s not going to try and dim who he is just because they think he’s too loud or distracting or stupid.

The issue isn’t that he’s stupid. He understands science and all that nerdy shit that no one except engineers use. He understands all about history and industrialization. His best class is fucking Latin 4, the class he’s somehow managed to be able to take again even though he’d aced it on his first try (with only a little help from Wayne).

No, the issue is that English is fucking hard, math is confusing, and teachers won’t listen, so he spends the classes doodling and writing lyrics and coming up with new campaigns instead of paying attention. He’s tried that already and look where it got him- another year at Hawkins High.

When the bell rings, Eddie fully intends on brushing by Mrs. Lindham and stalking out to his car for a smoke. Instead, she makes direct eye contact with him and the slender man holds back, fiddling with his rings as the teacher waits for all the other teens to clear out.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Munson,” the woman’s voice is high and grating in an uncomfortable way, making Eddie bite his lip. “I can’t allow you to repeat the same book as you did last year for the lit project. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is somewhat below the reading level, but I was generous last year. This year I need you to pick something a little more age appropriate.”

The long haired man swallows and shifts, twisting his skull ring around his finger.

“Okay, what if I did one of the Lord of the R-“

“Mr. Denison already informed me of your project from junior year,” the woman cuts in.

Feeling himself get more and more tense, the musician blows out a breath.

“This is bullshit. Why does it matter if I reread a book?”

“Mr. Munson! We’re looking to challenge you, and doing the same thing over and over isn’t doing you any good.”

“Look, I get it, alright? But we both know I suck at reading, and this is already my second year, can’t you-“

“This is your second year because you flunked this class, refused to show up to other classes half of last year, and when you did show up you didn’t take anything seriously. Maybe this year will be different, but saying you’re not good at reading isn’t an excuse. If you’d like, I can find a book for you to read.”

Jaw clenching, Eddie only nods, knowing if he tries to speak even more profanities will drop out. She looks at a piece of paper, eyes running down until she points to a few words on the page.

“The Turn of the Screw. You’ll enjoy it. It’s a gothic novel with suspense and some horror elements. It’s not terribly long either.”

“Fine.”

With that, Eddie shoulders his bag and turns, walking out and slamming the large wooden door behind him. The sound echoes in the now empty hallway. Trudging to his van, he notices Harrington and Hargrove talking, but he ignores it, instead focusing on the headache that’s planted itself on the right side of his head. All of this is fucking bullshit.

By the time he’s back at the trailer, Eddie is shivering, chilled to the bone without a working heater in his van. He’ll need to fix it Saturday, when he has time. The quick trip to the library was uneventful, going in with one thing on his mind, coming out carrying a small book by Henry James. He hopes to god the English teacher is right and it’s not as bad as he’s expecting.

Sighing and rubbing his face, he notices Wayne is already gone, no doubt getting dinner at Benny’s before a long shift. Sniffling due to the cold and his runny nose, the long haired man throws his backpack and the book he’s borrowed onto the couch, not bothering to check and see if it’s landed on its intended target.

After a shower in which he spends far too long under the spray, Eddie changes into clean black sweatpants and an old Dio tee, then yanks on a deep grey sweatshirt. The hood is up, attempting to conserve and warmth he may have left in his body, the heat from the shower dissipating quickly. Grabbing the blanket off of his bed, the extra one from his closet, and the one from the couch, he makes a small nest to bury himself in. He cuddles into the thick fabrics, imagining what it would be like to have someone else to cuddle with before finally opening the copy of the book, struggling to read the words correctly.

#my fic #sicktember22 #em #vaguely angsty oops

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tracle0 · 2 years

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Mmmm STS

(text; hey hi happy storyteller saturday from australia, aka the future! I would like to know... hmmmmm... how would your characters react to finding out they are in fact characters in a story? just 'cause I've been thinkin about all that juicy loss-of-control stuff and other such Spidery ideas in TSS and some of your rambles... I feel like Atlas in particular might have some Opinions about this revelation, and I'm curious about the others too :O ok bye love you have a nice day)

I was very ready to answer this @albatris and then my phone ate it so uh. Here’s your actual answer wew it is now the Monday after you sent it aka 10 days

So. Actually. I’ve. Thought about this question before. Like how would they react to knowing their fate was predetermined (can fate be predetermined?)* and how they might react to me as the person who inflicted such a plot on them. Happy to talk about it. Thrilled, you may even say. Mm!

So yeah like you mentioned! Loss of control and Spider BS is about 60% of the plot, give or take. Atlas particularly has very very very strong feelings about it!! They grew up literally unable to make their own choices for anything until they were 9. They didn’t know anything different, so at the time it was fine - but it definitely scarred them deep when they did realise what had been going on. They fight very hard to keep their mind their own.

So? Finding out they’re in a fictional story and I have already decided their conclusion for them? They’d hate it. They’d hate it! And me! They’d hate me so so much!!! I’ve done horrible things to them and they don’t have control over their life despite all of their fighting and they never have.

Well. I mean. If they can get over the fury and sit down and think about it, if they can figure out that yeah I’m the author and they’re a character in a story, but they are way too opinionated to do anything out of character - is that a lack of control on their end? I built them up and they come along and decide things for themselves and get snarky if I write them out of character. It’s. A strange time.

As an aside, they’d probably also be bitter that I took them from original Sonder. Sure, they were shot in the head there, but there was no godly hijinks hanging over their head there, was there?

TLDR; everything is awful, oh god, someone do something.

Sam! Samantha, beloved. She has. Bad experiences with books in TSS. So she might assume her being in a book is possibly a hangover of that? Maybe? She gets eaten by one. It’s a time and she doesn’t enjoy it even slightly. Hmm. Hang on I’m thinking about this.

Honestly I think she’d be in equal parts disappointed and impressed and wary? Wary because hey does this mean she’s not? Real? That’s? Awful? Hate that? And I agree. It would be pretty awful.

Disappointed because she’s a sociologist; to find out your confined to one book to study things is. Pretty bad for her hobby! That’s only one (my) point of view to study the world through, how is she meant to properly observe when everything is filtered through the lenses of my experience? Awful. 0/10. Her career is ruined.

But - maybe a little impressed. Like yeah she’s forced to see the works though my lens because it’s my book, but. Well. She’s learning through someone telling her that she’s a character in a book. I would assume that means she hasn’t noticed before. I’m also gonna hype myself up and say I’m decently happy with the world building in my head. Maybe she’d be like okay sucks that I don’t exist but yo these towns are. Pretty fleshed out? She could be lying. Thanks Sam.

I do think she’d prefer this world to original Sonder. She’s almost more welcome this time around.

TLDR; studying societies through one lens of the world is impossible, you just ruined my hobby.

A n d y hmm. Defeated and interested and angry I think. He. He struggles with a lot. He’s a prince dammit, he’s got a lot of pressure hanging over his head and for a long time, he struggles to manage it. I think learning that he’s just a fictional character in a fictional story would be. Very. Bad for him. Does he have any say in what he did? What was the point all along? Why did he keep fighting when everything was decided before I had even written a single word?

There are a few times when he gets to enjoy lack of control elements as well. It’s probably not as intense for him as it is for Atlas, but I imagine he’s quite wary about deciding what he does for himself. Learning he never had much choice would be. Eesh.

Angry! I put him through some horrific stuff! I strip almost everything he loves away until he’s hanging onto one person desperately and trying to help her as much as he can! I could’ve just not done that!!!!!! It makes decent plot, sure, but that’s his life! Why did he have to endure that, just for someone else’s entertainment? Angry.

But - interested to a degree. Last time he couldn’t read at all. This time, he is a major bookworm. Adores history books and reading in general. I think finding out he’s a character in a book somewhere would intrigue him to a degree. Privately, secretly, but…? Really? A story? What kind? Fakkin Andy.

He would absolutely prefer TSS to original Sonder. I’m including this fact for you for all of them, enjoy. Last time he was the villain. This time he’s one of the protagonists. I think he enjoys that shift.

TLDR; how dare you make me and mine suffer like this (but also books are pretty dope tell me more)

Nd last but by no means least, Dolly! I. Think. She would care the least, actually? I mean. Mm. For all of them, there’s a degree of anger to it. If they’re characters in a book, it means someone else (me) decides all these horrible things should happen. Atlas could just not serve a horrific god. Sam could have not been eaten by a book. Andy’s family could still be alive. Her tutor could have not been framed for murder. She is endlessly upset about that and I can’t blame her. So. Angry about that.

But like? She’s pretty easygoing I think. It’s possible she would not believe whoever was telling her, dismiss whatever proof they gave. Sure, buddy, I’m a character in a story and you’ve got ten heads and can tame the winds. I suppose it depends on what plot she knows. She has a time in TSS, and more time to come in TCD. Mm.

She! I think she also prefers TSS. TSS definitely prefers her over Sonder. She got the best glow up out of all the characters, I think. Properly fleshed out character and able to do and say as she pleases. I’m happy with how she turned out.

TLDR; why did he have to die? But also, whatever, bucko.

*fate is pre-determined for big and grand events that affect a lot of people, but even then it gets sloppy. Vague and easy to brush off. Sure, X event happened, but only for a little bit?

#STS #tss #asks #mmmm very sorry for the delay. Hectic weekend. Hectic week. Angry at tumblr for eating my ask so ignoring Tumblr #Hi! Here are answers to that question! I. Need to send asks. Respond to asks. Go on Tumblr more again #Things and stuff have been happening yknow. Hate things and stuff. So stressful #Mmmm I’m gonna. Give you bonus content for your wait in the form of Olly answer too #He’s not really part of tss beyond being basically fridged to give motivation to Atlas?#But he is more part of the story for TCD so I will. Offer this knowledge #So! I think as per usual he’d be angry about that fact. Could’ve just not done all this BS to him as the author and controller of the story #Bla bla bla I think he’d respect the fact that stories need conflict the most? Still dislike the conflict but. Mm.#I do think he’d maybe manage it the best? He already has elements of understanding story narratives in TCD #There’s a bit where Andy is told something very very specific and spends the rest of tss and half of TCD panicking about it #Until Olly catches wind of it and provides a different (and correct) alternative #He takes that prophecy bs and literal phrasing and breaks my funny tropes and narratives thanks Oliver love you mwah #So. TLDR; stop making us suffer (especially atlas that’s just mean smh) and also fuck you I’m gonna crack your story wide open #Sorry so late. Am sleepy. Got work. Mmmmmmhh

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get-your-fics · 2 years

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I absolutely ADORE Skinny Love for all that it is, but I can't help but think about what could have been, especially with the developments of The World Goes On. It sounds horrible but I almost feel bad for Edward, key word almost. I mean, if the reader hadn't found Edwards second apartment and things would have somehow developed between them naturally. Maybe before he gives himself up he confesses how he's always felt, pours himself out only to be exposed as a monster the very next day. I just think about it constantly and I'm sure I'm not the only one 😌. This isn't pressure to write anything on it I just wanted to share a little 😭.

a latte with a slice of pumpkin pie

Summary: What would've happened if reader had never found the apartment.

Pairing: Edward Nashton x reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Reader has a scar, part of a larger story with dark elements

A/N: i know you said no pressure, but you put this idea in my head and i couldn't get it out until i wrote it! sorry it took a while, but i hope it was worth the wait (it's a little long to be considered a drabble but i got carried away as usual)

You looked up when the bell rang on the diner door.

Your face instantly lit up as your best friend and roommate Edward Nashton walked in and approached the counter. Before he even sat on the same stool he always did, you already had his latte ready for him and slid the cup across to him.

“Here’s your latte.” You perked up, any exasperation you had been feeling before he came in evaporating into thin air. “You’ll have to wait a little bit for the pie. There’s a slice for you in the oven right now.”

You turned to go check on it when his hand shot out to grab your wrist. You stopped and looked back at him, taking in his appearance. He looked more haggard than usual, his hair slightly ruffled and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Usually, you’d chalk it up to the extra hours he’d been putting in at the office recently, but something told you this was unrelated.

He said your name. “Listen to me,” he huffed, panting. Had he been running? “There’s not a lot of time."

You frowned. “Is everything okay, Eddie?” Your brows drew together in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“You know I love you, right?” He was gripping your wrist so tightly it was starting to hurt, like he was clinging to you for dear life. “More than anything.”

You nodded. “Of course, Eddie. I love you too.”

He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “Not like that.” He shook his head, a sorrowful smile on his lips. There was a pained look in his eyes. “I’m in love with you. I always have been, ever since we met.”

He had managed to take your breath away with just a few simple words. Your whole body tensed, like you were waiting for him to tell you he was playing a joke on you. You parted your lips, but you weren’t quite sure what to say. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I want you to know why I’m doing this.” He shifted his grip so he was holding your hand, your fingers intertwined. “I did it all for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Your gaze flitted across his face. “You’re starting to scare me, Eddie.”

“I don’t want you to be scared.” He turned your arm so it was laying palm up on the counter. He traced the faint scar on your forearm with the tip of his finger, a thoughtful, distant look on his face. “Do you remember when we used to sleep in the same bed together?” His lips quirked into a hint of a smile. “When you had nightmares so bad, the only way you could go back to sleep was if I stroked your hair?”

Your lashes fluttered. “I don’t understand,” you said. “You’re not making sense.”

“I want you to remember me like that, okay?” He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, a nervous tick. “No matter what anyone says about me.”

“Eddie…” You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Just tell me what’s going on. We can figure it out together.”

He covered your hands in his, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “Not this time.”

Your head was spinning, trying to put the pieces together. It was like he was speaking in riddles. He glanced back at the windows behind him, like he was expecting someone to show up at any moment. He was clearly on edge. You were used to his paranoia, but even this was a bit much for him.

“Maybe I’m making a mistake,” he muttered. He turned back to you, leaning closer. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”

You felt yourself being drawn towards him like a magnet, the edge of the counter digging into your stomach. “Go where? Why would you have to leave?”

He pressed his lips together. “I can’t explain.” His tone was desperate, urgent. “Just promise me I’ll see you again.”

You blinked at him. “Why?”

“Just promise me!” he insisted, his pitch rising.

“I promise!” you shouted.

At that, he heaved a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging. You moved forward to press your forehead against his, staring him straight in the eye. “After all, we already promised to always stay together, didn’t we?” you whispered.

He subtly nodded, his eyes sliding shut. Your gaze flickered down to his lips. He was so close now, only inches away. You could feel his breath ghosting your lips.

The moment was ruined when the door was thrown open. Your head shot up to see several SWAT soldiers and GCPD officers swarm the diner. They filed in silently, surrounding Edward with their guns drawn and aimed at him.

They ripped Edward away from you. You tried to lunge after him, but the counter got in the way. You watched in bewilderment as an officer roughly cuffed his hands behind his back. He started reading him his rights, but the words were muffled under the ringing in your ears.

Your legs carried you around the counter. “What the hell?” You tried to follow as they dragged Edward out of the diner, but one of the officers stuck out his arm, stopping you. “What are you doing? You can’t take him!”

“Ma’am, please calm down.” The officer didn’t budge an inch as you pushed against him like he was made of stone, his feet firmly planted. “We have every right to arrest him. He’s the prime suspect in the Riddler case.”

You felt like the world had turned upside down. “What?” You shook your head. “No, that can’t be right. You got the wrong guy.”

“We have a witness who saw him leaving the same apartment the Riddler assassinated Carmine Falcone from, just a few blocks from here.” His face was completely blank as he spoke. You didn’t understand how he could explain all this to you in such an unfeeling tone. “We followed him straight here.”

You couldn’t reconcile anything he was saying. The words wouldn’t sink in. “Ed!” You stood on the tips of your toes, peeking over their heads as he was shoved into the back of a squad car. “Ed!”

You tried to go to him, but the officers grabbed onto you, holding you back. “Please, stop! Let him go!” You kicked your legs, but they held strong. “He couldn’t have done this! He’s my best friend!"

You sank to the floor as you cried, your vision blurring with tears. Through the window, you thought you caught a glimpse of a man dressed in black, piercing slate eyes staring back at you from the shadows.

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

Happy Engagement

Relationship: Loki x Reader Warnings: contains some dark elements: manipulation Summary: Loki has always thought of you as his and there isn’t anything he won’t do to keep it that way. A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one shot for a while! I had the idea for it months ago and finally wrote it and then it just sat on my computer while I wrote other stuff but I figured since I don’t have anything really new this week it’d be perfect to put out! I hope you enjoy it because I greatly do :)

Masterlist

Loki had always been an interesting force in your life.

You two met when you were just children in school. You two were the official unofficial outsides of your school year — he was a prince, you were a peasant. Despite his royal standing, he’d play with you at recess. For these outlier ways, you two never interacted much with the other kids, life practically forcing you two to one another.

At such a young age, you hadn’t realized how significant this bond would become. As a child, you were just glad someone was talking to you. He shouldn’t have even been looking at you, should’ve maybe been disgusted with your presence alone. You should’ve been some onlooker, amazed by him and his magic but you weren’t — well, except for the magic part. His magic was little when you were kids but it drew quite the amazement from you.

Over time, you two naturally grew with one another. From childhood into your teens and still, now, you two made an unlikely pair of best friends as young adults. All of this though did not come without some bumps along the way.

In your teens, Loki had almost completely shut you out. For some reason, he seemed to be acting embarrassed by you. Your mother had warned you this may happen but you thought he was different, swore he was, unless his sincerity was like the many other tricks he played. Eventually, supposedly after some talking down from his brother, Loki appeared back at your door asking if you wanted to go for a walk.

This disappearing and coming back had become a habit for him over his teenage years and into adulthood. Loki never explicitly told you why but you could tell there was something eating away at him. It had been there a long time and it felt like disassociating himself with you was his solution.

You thought everything was coming to an abrupt end when you fell pregnant. You had been seeing a nobleman who was a regular customer in your parents’ shop. He was absolutely charming and delightful, practically swept you right off your feet within minutes of meeting. Your parents were ecstatic when he asked to court you.

You yourself were stunned but you ran to tell Loki about it. He was speechless. You tried telling him about the man but something in Loki snapped. He got unreasonably upset, spewing hateful comments about the man, practically forcing you out of his chambers in the process. He went radio silent again.

You tried to ignore losing your best friend — again — and focused on your new relationship. He wooed you endlessly with dates to lavish dinners and dawning you in lovely gowns. It was all so much more than you had ever expected in life. He’d tell you you deserved it and whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you two would get so lost in one another.

A bit shamefully, hypnotized by the romantics of it all, you gave yourself to him. Tangled in the sheets with him as your guide, you let the man you felt you would marry have every last bit of you.

And for a while after, it was blissful. Nothing had seemed to change between you two until he announced he had to go away for a bit. Confused, you asked why suddenly now facing the fact you were losing another person in your life. He explained he was needed by his father on a different realm, part of the family "business," as he described it.

Days after his departure, you learned you were pregnant. Around this time, Loki popped back up in your life. You felt relieved having someone to confide in but when you told him of your pregnancy, he was far from the supportive force you thought you’d get. He didn’t yell or get upset per se but he was beyond stunned.

He left for a bit then but can back in less time than last. This time he brought along baby supplies and congratulated you. It was a complete one-eighty from his prior behavior but you accepted it, gratefully. Loki ended up being your main person throughout the pregnancy as clues of when your boyfriend would return were nonexistent.

"Did he know you were carrying his child when he left?" Loki had asked you one night. You two were sitting in the living room of the makeshift house you had acquired. You didn’t feel very good that this was the home you were bringing a child into when you knew her father could’ve provided her with a better one. But, at the end of the day, it was a roof over both your heads.

You crocheted another knot in the baby blanket. "No, he didn’t. I didn’t even know."

Loki gave a passing hum at that answer. He didn’t ask about your boyfriend very much after that.

Once your baby girl arrived, she became your entire world, your entire focus. Between caring for her and working to provide, you had little time to worry about your boyfriend still being gone. But it wasn’t as lonely as it may have looked because Loki was always by your side. Working around his royal duties, he’d take time to come visit you and your daughter even sometimes staying for dinner or to play with her. You didn’t miss how he was unintentionally becoming the father she was missing. You never said anything, though, always biting your tongue as you waited for her father to return.

Hope began to face on that front after your daughter turned three. Maybe he was just a footnote in your life, a foolish hopeful dream, but at least he had given you the lovely gift of your child. You weren’t giving up, still placing him in the boyfriend spot of your mind, but you couldn’t deny doubt crept in. Maybe a relationship of any capacity just wasn’t in the cards for you.

Or so you thought.

As Loki continued with his royal responsibilities, he was growing older and more powerful. That’s when the rumors of marriage began floating about. Your mother had brought it up to you once asking if you met any of his potential suitors. Your stomach did a somersault. You didn’t even know there were suitors, let alone met any of them. You tried to keep your cool and just told her no.

Who these suitors were and if they really existed, you never found out. You never even had the guts to ask about them especially after Loki pulled you aside one night after a dinner at the palace.

He rarely ever invited you to dinners with his family so to get this spontaneous invitation, you didn’t hesitate to attend. He even allowed you to bring along your daughter. She was playing with some servants’ children when Loki asked you to the garden.

"Feeling like a nighttime stroll?" You asked with a little laugh. Loki just smiled.

"There’s actually something I want to speak to you about."

"Oh," you frowned. "Is everything okay?"

Loki nodded. "Yes, yes, everything is fine." He looked up at the sky, almost lost in thought as you walked. You thought for a split second how lovely he looked. "I’m sure you have heard by now the…talk about my anticipated engagement."

Your heart practically stopped beating at that moment. Your hands instinctively gripped at the skirt of your dress as if you were ready to run away at the drop of a hat. Trying to keep your voice stead, you said, "Yes, I believe my mother mentioned that to me the other day."

He shot you an unreadable side glance. Your hands gripped the fabric tighter. Why were you feeling like this? Was that…jealousy you felt? You didn’t understand where that had come from. This was your best friend. Your prince best friend. He was bound to get married and have a lavish life with his bride. You couldn’t stop that, you couldn’t change it.

"Do you know anything of the women I have been offered?"

Was this another one of his cruel jokes? You wanted to vomit all over the bushes of flowers passing you as you walked. You managed to shake your head in response. "I’m sure they’re all wonderful."

He scoffed. "More like they’re all incredibly boring."

You gasped, "Loki, I’m not sure you should be speaking that way of them."

"It’s doesn’t matter," he shrugged, "because none of them are what I want."

You didn’t know if you actually wanted to know what he was seeking. You looked at him wearily.

You two walked in silence for a moment. Loki was now watching the ground intensely. You couldn’t believe how much his gaze was wandering. It must’ve been for courage because the next words out of his mouth were ones you had never thought you’d ever hear. From anyone.

"I believe you could be what I want," he said. He spoke your name so softly. "I’d like to ask for your hand in marriage."

You stopped walking, your legs suddenly unable to move. Your eyes grew wide as complete shock raced over you. You didn’t know what to do, too scared to speak because you didn’t know what was going to come out. Your first thought was that this was one of his magic tricks. Maybe he wasn’t even here, just a clone of him as he wished to make a fool of you. It wouldn’t be the first time but he had never been so cruel.

"You’re not saying anything," Loki noted. He had stopped a few feet ahead of you, completely taken off guard by your halt.

"I-I don’t understand." The words felt so heavy forcing their way out of your mouth.

"I don’t believe I stuttered, dear."

Your jaw dropped, surprised it hadn’t hit the floor already. He was seriously asking this. Loki, a literal prince, and your best friend, was asking for your hand in marriage. But — But you just didn’t know why. Why would he ask such a thing? Not only were you an unwed mother, he knew very well about your boyfriend. It was almost insulting he’d think you’d give up just because business or whatever it was was taking a while. You didn’t even want to begin to think about what this could all mean for your daughter.

"Loki… I… I don’t know. This seems crazy—,"

"Crazy?" His expression turned dark. You suddenly regretted the word despite it holding true. "What is so crazy about me wanting to take your hand? I thought this could be good. You and your daughter would have everything you’d ever want. You’d be a princess for crying out loud!"

You flinched at his anger. You had never seen him so enraged before. It made your whole body stiffen.

"I see. This… This is very generous of you but my boyfriend…"

Loki chuckled but there wasn’t any humor found within it. "Of course. The nobleman." He rolled his eyes. "Tell me again, dear, how long has it been? Do you really think he’s going to just show back up one day?"

"Of course," you nodded. "He told me—,"

"He’s not coming back."

You began shaking your head, growing more and more upset as the seconds passed. "You don’t know that."

Loki sighed, defeatedly. "I do know that, dear." A heavy pause. "I know that because I’m the one that sent him away."

You were certain in that moment your heart had stopped. Everything had stopped. You could barely tell anymore how you got from point A to point B.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"What I mean is I’ve had my eye on you for a long time," he explained. He was standing so tall making you feel minuscule. "I always thought you could be just right for me but then that nobleman waltzed into your life. Granted, he wasn’t me. He couldn’t give you what I could but he tried his best." Loki shrugged. "I had no choice, really. He threatened everything. He derailed my plan but it’s alright. I think after tonight it’ll be back on track, correct?"

You held your hands up in defense, practically begging Loki to slow down. Your head was spinning. "You sent away the father of my child?"

Loki sighed, sounding actually regretful. "Truly, that wasn’t ever my intention. I didn’t know he was going to do that."

"And you think since you forced him out of the picture, you can swoop in and ask for my hand in marriage? We never had a courtship! Are you even hearing yourself?"

"I’m a prince, darling." He sounded so casual. "We do not court like the rest of you."

Gosh, you felt like you were going to vomit. Your hands fell to your stomach as you tried to calm yourself. You had never heard Loki separate you two so clearly before. Like he had drawn a line, definitively.

Your words tasted like venom as you forced yourself to speak. "Can I at least think about it?"

"I’m afraid not. They’d like an answer tonight."

Tonight. That was what this dinner had been for. You weren’t invited just out of the kindness of his heart. You had been attending your own engagement party.

"Loki, this… I— This is insane. You’re— You’re insane—,"

"Am I, really?" He pressed, taking a few steps closer. You trembled under a darkened gaze you had never seen before on him. "I’m not sure that’s how you should be speaking to the man trying to offer you a bit of… stability."

"Stability?" You repeated. "You think that’s all that I want?"

"Would this not grant your daughter a better life? The little shop of yours is only getting you two so far, dear."

The shock had worn off as you were now being filled with rage. "Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this anymore," you gritted. "Of course, I want nothing but the best for her but I also deserve someone who will truly love me. You’re — You’re just asking to fulfill some royal commitment and trying to pass it off like this is some big, grand gesture to help me."

Loki looked a bit taken back by your words. Even you were a bit surprised by yourself. You didn’t know where this fight was coming from within you. Probably from the depths of motherhood, if you had to guess. But it felt good in a way.

After a heavy moment, Loki asked, "Was I so wrong to assume this proposal could actually help us both?"

That was the real kicker of it all, you thought. This actually could help you both.

"I want to marry someone who loves me."

Loki seemed to debate around the idea mentally. "I’m certain that within time something could bloom. I’m not a psychopath, darling." He smirked. "But I truly can’t believe you’d give this up all for the minuscule chance at love, the hopeless thing that got you where you are today."

You gasped. "I would’ve had true love if you hadn’t banished him away!"

Loki let out a humorless laugh. "You are so adorable, you know that?" You flinched as he got close enough now to place a hand on your damp cheek. You were practically forced to look in his eyes as he spoke. "That man was nothing but a spoiled brat and I refuse to believe you actually fell for his game."

You felt yourself crumbling down again. Way beneath him. "He… He was really…"

"Don’t you dare try to defend him, do you hear me?" Loki spat. That darkness was washing over but this time it felt like a storm you couldn’t escape. "I will not have my bride speak such niceties about another man."

"Your bride—,"

"While I’ve enjoyed this little midnight confessional, we have some good news to share with everyone, don’t we?"

You didn’t know what to do. What to think anymore. He wasn’t letting up. You were trapped. It was like the prison gate had shut behind you. You were stone-cold now, completely under his control. You were giving up in complete defeat. You could scream until you were blue in the face but you were running in circles. At least your daughter would know a home.

"Yes."

Loki’s face lit up. He removed his hands from you. "Fantastic," he said, heading back towards the palace. You helplessly followed beside him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and said, "Happy engagement, dear."

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Text

defiant | bakugou/reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

status: complete

length: 4,485 words

summary: There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place.

Katsuki, however, has other ideas.

tags/warnings: smut, arguing, possessive sex, light bondage, aged up characters, reader attempts to dom bakugou (keyword: attempts)

notes: This is based several years after the events of my fic savvy though you do not need to have read it to enjoy this one!! This is also unedited because I am too lazy, my apologies for the various mistakes within. I will come back and fix them at some point. Dedicated to @bobawithpomegranate for reminding me I was supposed to be working on this.

It was a Friday afternoon at approximately three p.m. when Bakugou Katsuki lost his fucking mind.

You knew this information because you had been watching the press coverage of your boyfriend’s latest fight, an operation in which he and Kirishima Eijirou had paired up to defeat a villain with an earthquake quirk.

Katsuki and Kirishima had taken the man down in record time, mere minutes after the reporters showed up. You’d watched them pound the villain into the very street he’d ripped up in the first place, and now Kirishima was puttering around in the background of the news coverage, smiling as he chatted up civilians against the wreckage of the city street behind him. Which left Katsuki to saunter over to the gaggle of field reporters and give the customary interview.

His blonde hair was disheveled, and his mouth was quirked up into a sharp smile, the way it always was after he’d just come out of a good fight. But he looked otherwise unharmed, just as intense and savagely handsome as always. He even looked like he might be in a good mood, pleased with the results of his fight, and you thought he might actually keep the swearing to a minimum this time.

He ducked under the police tape, flaxen hair glinting gold under the afternoon sun, and stalked over to the nearest reporter, already opening his mouth to crow over his latest victory.

Which is when something off screen caught his attention.

There was a muffled question from one of the reporters--not from the network you were watching or the mic would have caught it--and Katsuki’s scarlet gaze cut to the side. You watched in horror as his expression slowly morphed into one of apoplectic rage.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Katsuki snarled, eyes narrowing, an explosion already crackling between his fingers.

The camera jerked to the side, catching the startled expression of another reporter. He looked vaguely familiar to you--tall, handsome in a bland kind of way, teeth bleached for his job as a television personality. You thought you might have met him briefly at the last Hero’s Gala, but you didn’t have time to linger on the memory--Katsuki was already on the move, fighting his way through the pack of reporters, looking ready to commit a murder.

“--think you can just fucking talk to me, asshole?” you heard him shout.

“What did he say?” a voice murmured off screen.

“--he just asked Dynamight how he feels about his success today,” another voice uttered, closer to the camera, sounding bewildered and more than a little alarmed.

“You’re gonna wish you had never fucking been born, asswipe!” Katsuki shouted over them.

He’d nearly reached the reporter when there was a blur of red and Kirishima was there, one bulky arm seizing Katsuki around the middle. He hauled Katsuki out of the sea of journalists, even as Katsuki struggled, spitting and snarling like a wet cat.

“You fucking try that shit again and I’ll fucking blow your teeth straight into your brain!” Katsuki hollered, drowning out whatever Kirishima was muttering to him.

Your phone screen lit up next to you, several notifications pinging simultaneously. You let out a gusty sigh, glancing down at the contact names. News outlets, looking to scoop their competitors by getting the first statement from the Dynamight Agency on Katsuki’s behavior.

You swiped over a screen and dialed the number for the PR department, watching Katsuki continue to rage on screen, struggling against Kirishima’s hold. The crags in Kirishima’s skin told you he was close to going Unbreakable, and the sight sent a hot bolt of irritation through you.

You had no idea what the hell Katsuki thought he was doing, launching himself at a reporter like that. A reporter who had apparently done nothing but ask him how he felt about the success of his fight, a question Katsuki--the smug fuck--typically reveled in answering.

It had been a long time since Katsuki’s last PR disaster (tackling pro hero Deku over the side of a buffet table after an innocuous comment at one of their first Hero’s Galas), and you’d gotten him to promise you to be more careful after that. You’d honestly thought he’d pretty much moved past that sort of thing now. He’d grown somewhat calmer with age--though not less foul mouthed--and as his girlfriend, you were able to exert some level of influence over his actions, as each year, your understanding of how to play him grew deeper and deeper.

So what the fuck he thought he was doing right now was absolutely beyond you. And also absolutely not appreciated, as you had much better things to be doing than cleaning up after him for a shit fit that he definitely could have controlled.

If there was something bothering him, you were going to make him tell you. And if he was up to his old tricks, maybe he needed a refresher on exactly why it was inappropriate to go off like a bomb at every little thing.

As Katsuki’s primary PR rep picked up on the other end of the line, already speaking to you in a brisk tone, you resolved yourself to the task. You were going to get to the bottom of whatever had sent Katsuki into a fit--and you were going to remind him how and why to behave himself.

Whether he wanted to or not.

The trickiest part of your plan was catching Katsuki off guard.

That kind of a feat was nearly impossible, as Katsuki had reflexes honed by years of experience, an alarmingly keen intellect, and a single-minded determination that was frankly terrifying to contemplate. It had been years since he’d been outmaneuvered by anyone in the field, and the odds were against anyone who thought they could get the jump on him.

Luckily for you, you knew that his single-mindedness was the one thing that could also be used against him.

You left the agency slightly earlier than normal, shooting off a message to Katsuki to let him know you’d meet him at home. And then you yanked open your proverbial bag of tricks.

You helped yourself to a long shower, lathering on some of Katsuki’s body wash instead of your own, a trick that--you’d learned after once running out of your own--sent him into something like a possessive frenzy, knowing you smelled like him, that anyone you encountered would know you’d helped yourself to a man’s personal effects and understand that you were already spoken for.

Then you rustled around in your drawers for a nicer pair of lingerie--not anything super fancy that would suggest you were up to anything special, but nice enough that Katsuki’s interest would be piqued.

And then you dug around in the closet for the most essential element of your plan--handcuffs. Your face warmed with the memory of the last time these had been used--a blur of rough palms and sharp teeth all over you, while you all but sobbed for more--but you frantically quashed the thought. Tonight, if all went according to plan, you wouldn’t be the one strapped helpless to the headboard.

You weren’t the one with a lesson to be learned, after all.

The scrape of keys in the door sent you dashing to hide the handcuffs underneath your pillow, and then the stomp of boots in the hall told you your boyfriend had made it inside. You hastily yanked a sweater and jeans over your lingerie, then went out to meet Katsuki in the kitchen.

He clearly hadn’t had time to change after his fight, still slightly disheveled, blonde hair mussed and scarlet eyes sharp as they narrowed in on you. His handsome features were twisted into a suspicious expression.

“The fuck’re you up to, ditching early? Thought I was gonna get fucking screamed at when I made it back to your office,” Katsuki growled, watching you intently as he stripped off his gloves and boots. They hit the ground with a dull thud.

Your heart shot into your throat, but you pasted on your best placid expression. “I ditched because I didn’t feel like dealing with every outlet in the entire country blowing up my office line. Thought I could get more done here where it’s quieter.”

You didn’t mention exactly what you planned to get done here, hoping Katsuki would assume it was all PR and damage control.

In a way, it was damage control. Just...not via traditional methods, exactly.

Katsuki’s eyes tracked you closely. He still looked skeptical. “You gonna let me have it then, princess?”

Oh you were gonna let him have it, alright. He just had no idea.

You watched him for a while, pretending to contemplate unloading on him the way you wanted to. “Just...not now. I’m too tired, I don’t even want to deal with it.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit. You live for giving me shit. Fucking out with it.”

You glared at him. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me orders. And if I was gonna say anything before I’m certainly not now. Now go clean yourself up. I have work to finish, thanks to someone.”

You retreated back into the bedroom, smothering a grin.

Nothing got Katsuki jumped up like defiance. Years into your relationship, he knew on some level that he wasn’t actually in charge of you, but he still got just as worked up when you got mouthy with him as he had on day one. It wouldn’t be long until he came back in, trying to pick the same fight, altogether too interested in the attitude you’d give back to him.

He was such a boy.

You lounged around on the bed, pulling out your work laptop and firing off a couple emails while you waited, just for something to do. Katsuki’s PR rep seemed to have things well in hand, but you helped where you could.

Soon enough, Katsuki was stalking back into your room, hair dark from a shower, looking like he hadn’t even bothered to dry off before stomping back in. He wore only a dark pair of sweatpants, the hard planes of his chest on full display--you suspected he’d foregone a shirt on purpose, knowing how the sight of him usually distracted you.

Which it still did, somewhat, but you were too heady with your own plan to truly be diverted.

You smothered a laugh at the way Katsuki’s eyes immediately honed in on the lace of your bra strap, strategically peeking out of your sweater as you had arranged it.

Two could play at that game.

“Think you’re real fucking smooth, don’t you, princess?” he demanded, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely threatening manner. You caught the clean scent of his body wash, just a hint of his syrupy sweet quirk under that.

Your thoughts fogged a little with his proximity so you pretended to ignore him, typing out some nonsense notes into your calendar for something to keep your attention off of him. The less you looked at him, the easier this would be. You were weak to his appearance, it was true, and nothing riled him up like not having your full attention.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said vaguely, doing your best to sound distracted.

A rough palm shoved your laptop closed. “Oh I think you fucking do, princess. Think you’re gonna get all dressed up for me and then ignore me?”

You looked up into his face, just as his arms came down around you to cage you against the mattress. A thick spike of arousal jolted through you, but you pushed it down. Much as you were into this, he was not going to be in charge for much longer.

“And if I did?” you asked, victory surging through your veins at the dark look that entered his eye.

He leaned down, putting his face near to yours. “Gonna be real hard to ignore me when I’m fucking you so hard you’ll feel me for weeks.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone on such thin ice,” you breathed. You didn’t even have to pretend at being affected by his choice of words, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Katsuki wasted no time covering your mouth with his. The weight of him pressed you back into the mattress, your laptop tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. Rough hands trailed up your sides, gathering up the fabric of your sweater and pulling it over your head.

Carefully, you eased him over, kissing him as hard as you could, so that you were the one on top, your knees braced on either side of his slim hips.

Katsuki swore, pressing you down on him with a rough palm on your back, evidence of his interest hard between your thighs.

And that’s when you struck. Using his momentary distraction, you pulled the handcuffs from beneath your pillow, weaving them through the headboard. You grabbed his hands as firmly as you dared, pressing them up over his head.

Katsuki noticed what you were doing the second before the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, nerd?” he demanded, flexing against the tight hold. You watched with interest as his bicep pulled with the effort. “Unlock these or you’re in for it.”

You sat back on his hips, smirking down at him the way he usually did at you. Triumph swelled in your gut like a symphony.

“No, you’re in for it, Katsuki. What the absolute fuck did you think you were doing today?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think I was just gonna let you get away with throwing a tantrum on national television for no discernable reason?”

“That’s none of your business,” he ground out. A bright spark lit up the skin of his palm, a sharp crackle slicing into the silence of your room. “Now unlock these while I’m still asking nicely.”

You trailed absent fingers down the warm skin of his abdomen, watching appreciatively as the muscle tightened under your touch. Katsuki hissed out a sharp breath.

He might be threatening, but he ran the risk of blowing off his own hands if he resorted to using his quirk right now. You didn’t think he’d chance his own skin just to get out of this situation.

“I’m your manager and your girlfriend--it’s one hundred percent my business. You’re not getting out of those until you tell me what the hell you thought you were doing,” you promised darkly. You let your nails scrape over the skin of his hip, just under the band of his sweatpants.

You felt his hips shift in interest.

“You’re really asking for it, huh, princess?” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not gonna be gentle with you when I get out of this.”

“Keep avoiding the question and you’ll never get out of this,” you said. You let yourself lean over him, reveling in his minute intake of breath as you pressed a kiss over his neck. “You want something, I’ll give it to you. But only if you tell me why you did it.”

“It’s between me and that fucking slimeball and that’s all you need to know,” Katsuki snarled.

You let your teeth scrape over his skin, the way he usually did with you. “Not good enough,” you said.

Katsuki’s hips shifted again as you pressed back harder onto him. You felt your own abdomen coil tight with hot excitement at the unconscious little circles he was making. But you couldn’t be distracted--you had a mission to accomplish.

“Mind your damn business you fucking nerd,” he growled, defiant to the last.

Well, you hadn’t thought this was going to be easy.

“You are my business,” you informed him tritely. “And if you ever want me to take care of your business again, you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.”

“Fuck,” he said instead. “You’re so hot when you get mouthy.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” you told him. You shoved down the hot flush that tried to rise through you at his admission. Even years later, you were weak to his praise and he knew it.

He bucked a little under you, like he was unable to help himself. “Let me touch you, princess.”

“Still not an answer,” you intoned. You held very still, careful not to squirm like he was making you want to, even as his thrusts grew more deliberate.

If he would just hurry the fuck up and give you an answer, you both could be getting what you wanted. But everything had to be a production with him, as usual.

He was lucky he was so hot, and so charming on the rare occasion when he wanted to be, because he really was a piece of fucking work. You deserved some kind of sainthood for your service to him.

You slid forward on his chest a little when he gave a particularly strong thrust, bracing your hands over his sternum, and the abrupt show of strength had you clenching your thighs unthinkingly around him.

Katsuki’s mouth twisted in a savage grin, like he knew exactly how he was affecting you. “This is your last warning, princess. Let me out or you’re fucking in for it.”

You frantically schooled your features back into some form of haughty disregard, reaching down into your nightstand for the keys. You twirled them absently around your fingers.

“I don’t think you understand what kind of position you’re in,” you said firmly. “The only way you’re getting what you want is if you tell me what kind of stick that reporter stuck up your ass. Or maybe he didn’t, and you’re just being a fucking brat. Either way, you’re not in charge here--I am, and you are the one who’s in for it.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, however, than the tang of hot metal met your nose. Katsuki’s savage smile was bordering on feral now. You looked up in alarm to see that above his head, he’d worked his palms over to press to each opposite wrist, but he wasn’t blowing through the cuffs like you’d known he couldn’t. Instead, he was melting them.

You swore, scrambling off of him. You threw yourself off the edge of the bed, racing for the door like the devil himself was behind you.

You weren’t fast enough.

The world upended, the white of your ceiling paint swirling up over your vision. The next thing you knew, you were thrown flat on your back in your bedding, bouncing a little from the impact against your mattress.

Katsuki braced himself over you, hands firm around your wrists, eyes alight with the challenge.

“You were saying, princess?” he asked smugly.

You wiggled underneath him, trying to work a leg underneath his hip to kick him off you the way you’d learned in self-defense. Katsuki just shifted into the cradle of your hips, huffing out a rough laugh.

“I fucking taught you that move, nerd. Think you’re gonna get me with it?”

His hips pressed forward, his body a hot line all along yours, and you suppressed a groan at the feel of him hard against your core.

“That’s right, princess,” Katsuki breathed, pressing his face into your shoulder to bite at your throat. “Now I’m going to remind you who’s in charge here, and you are going to be good for me and take every single thing that I give you.”

He gathered your wrists in one hand, reaching down with long fingers to work off your jeans.

You shivered in delight at the thought of his dark promises, but some other, more stubborn part of you resisted. You had a fucking job to do, and no way was he going to reroute you so he could get out of talking about things.

“You’re not giving me shit until you tell me exactly why you tried to blast some innocent reporter into the sun,” you said hotly.

Katsuki paid you no mind, too focused on pulling your jeans off over your ankle, so you leaned in and bit his shoulder.

“The fuck--?” he demanded, reeling back.

“I’m serious, Katsuki,” you said, irritation rising. “You tell me what is going on this second or it’s just you and your hand for the next month. I’m not fucking around.”

“He’s not some innocent reporter, he’s a piece of shit,” Katsuki said. His fingers worked at the clasp to your bra, like he thought that was enough of an answer.

“And you know this how?” you asked, trying to shift to crush his fingers underneath your shoulder.

He glared at you for a long moment, red eyes hot on your face, looking like he was strongly considering just abandoning the conversation altogether and stalking off to blow something up instead.

“I know,” he finally ground out, looking like every word cost him, “because I overheard him in the men’s room at the last Hero’s Gala.”

So you did know the reporter from the Hero’s Gala. A dim memory came to you of shaking his hand, leaning over to get Katsuki’s attention to get him an answer to some question he’d asked. You were fuzzy on the details, as you’d had other things to worry about that night--the Hero’s Gala had ended with Katsuki in some kind of mood with Kirishima, the arm of Kiri’s suit burnt off, and Katsuki had refused to say more on things. They’d patched things up almost immediately after so you hadn’t pried, but now you wondered if there wasn’t more to the story--more including this reporter.

“Overheard him what?” you asked.

Katsuki’s fingers resumed their questing, releasing the back of your bra with the ease of constant practice. You let him, considering he was still giving you answers.

“Overheard him fucking talking about you,” Katsuki growled, his fingers digging into your waist, his touch turning more possessive.

You froze. “What?”

“Saying the nastiest shit about how you looked in your dress, what he’d like to do with you if you didn’t already belong to me,” Katsuki said, sounding disgusted. “Wanted to incinerate him but fucking Kiri got in the way. Told me I’d lose my license if I attacked a civilian and he took me to court.”

“Which you would,” you pointed out, your tone going breathier than you wanted when Katsuki slid his fingers up to pluck at your nipple. “That--um--that was still the case today, too. What did you think you were doing?”

“Didn’t think,” he grunted, palming your breast. He didn’t look like he was thinking a lot now either, eyes turning on your chest with that single-minded focus he was famous for. “I just saw him and saw red.”

You were starting to see colors too--white, mainly, as Katsuki released your wrist to trail his other hand over your panties with obvious intention.

“Oh, um. Well I’m glad you didn’t kill him and have to lose your license,” you said, your breath hitching when Katsuki found his way into your underwear. “I’m gonna--have to--ah--thank Eijirou.”

“You belong to me,” Katsuki announced imperiously, leaning back in to bite at your throat again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed with him, now. Instead, his words relit some fuse within you, your arousal sparking back to life behind your navel.

Katsuki’s fingers curled within you and you couldn’t hold back a pleased little noise, shifting your hips to allow him better access.

That was all the affirmation he needed. In mere minutes, he was working you up to the edge of your pleasure, fingers hot and skilled and exactly right inside you. He trailed soft bites and hot kisses all over your neck and shoulders, looking supremely satisfied with himself every time you caught sight of his face. His thumb worked tiny, maddening circles over your clit, just like he knew drove you fucking insane, and he had you writhing and squirming underneath him embarrassingly fast.

Soon, he was hitching your leg over a broad shoulder, sinking into you right where you wanted him.

“That’s right, princess. You’re mine. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never forget it,” he promised, already working up to a brutal pace that left you short of breath.

Your vision swam as he ground into you. He leaned down to catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking softly, in sharp contrast to the wicked thrust of his hips.

“Look at you,” Katsuki said around your breast, scarlet gaze burning into yours. “Spread out and trembling. Look so fucking good for me, only for me.”

“Katsuki--ah!” you barely managed the syllables of his name.

“So fucking hot when you think you’re in control. So fucking mouthy--” his fingers brushed over your mouth “--I’m gonna fuck you so stupid you can’t even string together a sentence anymore.”

You rather thought he’d already achieved that, considering you could barely manage anything other than single syllable words now--nothing but there and more and please and oh!

Katsuki gave a particularly hard thrust, snarling your name--and your climax hit you like a truck.

You cried out, writhing, and his hands came up to hold you down against the mattress, still fucking into you hard like he meant to fuck the sense right out of you. He fucked you straight through your orgasm, and only when you were gasping from the aftershocks, shivering and near tears, did he follow you, flooding your insides with warm heat.

“That shut you right up, didn’t it, princess?” he said smugly as he rolled off of you, leaving another love bite over your shoulder on his way.

You groaned. It had been fucked up but kind of romantic that he’d attempted to murder a guy for you, but he was really killing the mood now.

“Is there anything that would shut you right up?” you replied, still catching your breath.

Unexpectedly, a smirk twisted your boyfriend’s mouth, and his hand trailed carefully down your thigh.

“There is, princess. Too bad it sounds like you can still string together a sentence,” he said, watching you intently.

You stared at him, wondering where he was going with this.

Until he moved, shifting backwards until his chin met your thigh, still watching you intently with those scarlet eyes.

“I can think of something that would fix both of those problems,” he said, his voice rough even as his hands came up to gently pry your thighs apart. “Now you have thirty seconds to call out of work tomorrow before I finish punishing you for that little show earlier.”

Your breath caught in your lungs again. You didn’t waste precious time defying him.

This time, you obeyed.

Deleted scene: What did Deku say to Bakugou that got him tackled over a buffet table at the Hero’s Gala?

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #katsuki bakugou

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

Sometimes You Just Don’t Know the Answer

4 times you don’t know the answer, and the 1 time you do

This is the 2nd part to Personal Google! (You don’t have to read it to understand this, but it exists if you want to).

Ship: BAU!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: You’d call yourself a pretty educated individual, and most people wouldn’t argue with that, given that you’re a member of the BAU at Quantico. There’s just something about your best friend Spencer Reid that gets you all tongue tied.

Warnings: Mentions of cases and case-typical violence, mentions of alcohol, Spencer and Reader being idiots again.

Word count: 3k

A/N: The feedback (in asks and the tag reblogs) for Personal Google was so lovely and encouraging and I am very grateful for it! I only made this account a few days ago and I’m already so glad I did :) I hope this is a satisfactory second part and, requests are open!

(This is the Reid I’m imagining here)

“What is up with you and Reid?” Emily’s volume is unmoderated at the best of times but right now it’s like she’s trying to alert the entirety of Virginia to your dating woes.

Dating woes might be a stretch, actually. Somehow, just her implication that something is happening between you and Spencer (even though it isn’t, unless you count two exhausted idiots falling asleep on each other and being too bashful to ever mention it again), is enough to get you feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “Well. I don’t know, honestly, nothing I guess? We haven’t spoken about that night.”

Emily’s eyes rake over you, and you can tell she’s waiting for you to continue.

“There’s nothing!” you object, “We just, it was accidental, we fell asleep because we were watching a documentary and we were tired and neither of us fell asleep on purpose.”

She laughs, dry and amused, “At this rate, you’ll be lucky to have sorted things out before you’re 50.”

You scowl, but it’s only because you know she’s right.

***

You don’t have much time to think about your situation with Spencer for a few weeks, considering the rate at which the cases come rolling in. This newest one arrives within about two days of the last one you’d just wrapped up. It’s actually kind of rude, you’ve decided, that the serial killers of America have decided to deny you two weekends in a row.

You’re briefed on the case quickly: four women have gone missing over the past 7 months from a small town in Ohio. There’s no distinct pattern that can be discerned among the victims, the oldest is 60 and white, the youngest is 23 and Asian-American. However, the first three have been found dead in the past two weeks, all within a mile of each other and all killed with the same MO: ligature strangulation.

“So we have no idea how he’s choosing them,” you say.

“No,” Hotch replies, with a sigh.

Meaning that this is probably going to take a while. Spencer senses the way you tense up a little as you absorb that fact. So he goes out of his way to sit next to you on the plane. Once the discussion about the case is done, he nudges you gently, “Did you bring a book?”

You shake your head, “I finished the one in my go-bag. Didn’t have a chance to replace it.”

“Would you like to read this with me?”

You place your hand on his wrist, gently turning it so you can see the cover, “Spencer this is written in Greek.”

“I can translate,” he says.

You move closer to him then, your head resting just against his plane seat and your chin almost jutting against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

He nods. The remaining 45 minutes of the flight are spent with him reading to you softly, adding in his own thoughts as he translates and sometimes going off on little tangents. By the time you land you’ve entirely forgotten about your ire with the case. You’re focused only on the characters he introduces you to, who are clearly in love even if they’re too stupid to see it, and the way his nose crinkles a little when he reaches a word with no direct English translation.

Whhat you don’t realise, is that you end up folding into him: head pressed against his chest. Somehow, neither of you notice how you naturally gravitate towards each other. Some pair of profilers.

Hotch sends you in different cars to the precinct, and you’re soon reminded of your frustration as you’re caught up in the hub-a-bub of the case. It’s not until you’re leaving the station, after a long and relatively fruitless briefing with the medical examiners and local PD, that you even have time to acknowledge Spencer properly again.

And even then, it’s only when Hotch says.

"You'll be sharing a room with Reid, alright?"

He’s only really asking as a formality. Nobody questions Hotch’s assignments for them. So why, then, do you feel yourself flush a little.

Why then, do you feel so embarassed replying, “Alright.”

***

There was nothing much to be nervous about with sharing a room, as it so happened. The past day and a half had been a whirlwind since the unsub had snatched a fifth victim. You’d been sleeping in shifts, making sure that some of you were awake at all times to keep working.

You were working on the geographical profile with Spencer, and had taken to driving around to look for landmarks at night, when there was nothing much else to do. There were maps but sometimes it helped just to get things embedded in your brain. And now, at 4am, you’re bursting into the conference room occupied by Spencer and Rossi, because you might just have got something.

"I have an idea,” you say, and before anybody can even respond you’re scribbling hurriedly on the whiteboard.

“Slow down kiddo,” Rossi laughs.

“Sorry I’m just,” you cut yourself off, slightly flustered and tapping your foot with frustration as you try to put the last pieces of it together, “Diana Matthews.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds.

“She was the one who lived on Lakefield right?” Rossi asks.

Annoyingly, you can’t remember off rote. Spencer sees the pinch of frustration in your brow. He senses that you’re heading for the case file.

So, he answers, “Yeah 38 Lakefield Drive.”

Smiling gratefully at him, you breathe a sigh of relief, “There’s three different stores in the area for this local electronic repair company, Gladston Digital, in this area. Two of them aren’t accounted for on the maps because these are from last year, and one of the ones on Google is pinned to the wrong street, there are two Minister Avenues and one’s on the complete opposite side of town.”

Denoting the map with annotations as you go, you continue, “All of the victims had residences within a mile of one of the three stores. And we interviewed the area manager, Paul something, he manages all three stores. He came to speak to me and Hotch while we were scoping the area.”

“Inserting himself into the investigation,” Rossi notes, “Fits the profile. A stalker like that would want to remain an illusion of control.”

“I just need to get Garcia on the phone to see if it checks out.”

Spencer just watches, slightly in awe, as you make the phone call to Garcia. She manages to cross-reference bank statements and emails, showing that all five of the victims had taken something of theirs in for repair sometime in the year before their disappearance. And he feels something in his gut. Pride? Maybe. That’s certainly a part of it.

But there’s something else in there too. Your eyes meet his, with a flicker of recognition. He realises what it is then: marvel. Your brain works so fast, and that’s not novel to him, he knows you’re intelligent but there’s just something about how fast you manage to put it all together. You conjure something out of nothing, a link that he’d missed. And he’s reminded, again, that he has to try and keep up with you sometimes. He wonders if you know that.

Probably not, he thinks. You’re rambling down the phone and gesturing with your hands, in a way you may or may not have picked up from him, and all he can think is how you look so in your element. And beautiful.

He’s a little embarassed about how normal it feels for that last observation to pop into his head.

***

“To _____!” Prentiss cheers.

8pm has rolled around. Since your revelation 16 hours earlier, you managed to confirm your thinking, apprehend Paul Bader, and save the fifth victim. All in all, a pretty good days work. It’s not just down to you, but everyone’s singing your praises so loudly it’s making you a little embarassed.

Even Hotch sets a drink down in front of you, squeezing your shoulder, “Really good work today ____.”

Fair to say you’ve probably peaked there.

Spencer is sat to your left, sipping at a Mai Tai that you know is going to have him giggly in about an hours time.

“I wasn’t trying to keep you out before,” you tell him, “I was going to come and wake you up when I got back but you were in the conference room.”

He smiles, “I know. It was my shift to sleep.”

“Bet you’re paying for that now.”

“A little,” he chuckles, “It’s worth it.”

"I just didn’t want you to think I was hanging you out to dry. You know, to make myself look good,” you decide to press further: mostly just because the team has sung your praises and that kind of attention makes you shirk at the best of times. Let alone when you’re sat with the guy responsible for creating half the damn profile.

His eyebrows furrow. You worry for a minute about what he’s going to say, but then, “I would never think that about you. We’re a team.”

He squeezes your hand. Maybe that’s your favourite thing about Spencer, really. More than the fact he remembers to get your caffeine just how you like it, more than how gentle he is with just about everybody he encounters, more than his relentless enthusiasm for your questions about whatever pops into your mind. No, it’s his modesty. The way he doesn’t even think for a moment to be prideful or arrogant about his intelligence. He genuinely roots for you in every moment, you think.

“Are you okay?” he asks, “You seem a little..quiet.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that you realise you’d let your thoughts run away with you, “No. I’m good. Just thinking about how good of a teacher you are.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I think so. You’ve taught me. I didn’t know the first thing about geographical profiling when I got here two years ago. I could barely read a map,” you laugh, keeping your tone sincere, “You’re a really good teacher Spence. I feel like I learn so much from just being around you.”

“I often don’t give you much choice.”

You smile, “I wouldn’t want you to. Really. I’m always interested in everything you have to say. I think you know that. But I wanted to tell you anyway. So you’re sure.”

He’s incredibly grateful you get pulled into a conversation by Morgan, giving him a moment to process.

A lifetime of being insecure. Of feeling like nobody was interested in what he had to say but not being able to really control whether he said it anyway. All this time being insecure in himself, and you liked it. Complimented him on it, even. Considered him a teacher. He doesn’t think he could articulate, in any of the languages he speaks, the sense of peace that brings him.

-----

The Mai Tai’s do make him sleepy. Buzzed, but sleepy. After being bought rounds by Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer, you’re feeling exactly the same. It’s only 10:30pm by the time you decide to make your departure for the night. This is much to the chagrin of Emily, who lolls against Rossi’s side demanding that you stay.

“Some of us have been up since 4 this morning, breaking their backs to keep this country safe,” You tease, putting on a melodramatic air just for affect, “Besides, you’re going to regret this when you have to be up and back on the jet in the morning.”

“You will, especially since you still owe me that report,” Hotch teases, with a smile.

Emily rolls her eyes, “You two are no fun.”

She’s joking, goading you, but unfortunately for her you have a sleepy Spencer nuzzling against you which is a far more pressing matter to deal with.

“Come on Spence, let’s get you to bed,” You say, gently wiggling out from under him and offering him your hand.

He pouts at the momentary loss of contact. It’s subtle. You catch it though. He links his fingers through your own, holding your hand properly, and you try not to read into it too much. He’s tipsy. He’s tired.

Ignoring the deliberately obvious eyebrow-wiggling from Morgan, you make for the lift.

“You didn’t have to come to bed just for me,” Spencer says, “I feel bad for taking you away from the others. I’m not that drunk, I could get myself to bed.”

You shake your head, “I wanted to go to bed with you.”

His eyes snap to you, a grin playing on his lips.

“I mean, I wanted to go to bed. And we’re sharing a room. So I’m going to bed with you. As in we’re going to the place where bed is, together.”

He’s just enough tipsy to be confident enough to jest, “Sure.”

You roll your eyes, “You sound like Morgan.”

“What did Morgan say?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what Morgan always says whenever anybody goes off together.”

“That they’re having sex,” He giggles, tipsiness shining through again.

“Yes, Spence, that they’re having sex.”

“But we’re not.”

The elevator dings as you arrive at your floor, saving your brain from delving into the implications of what he’s just said. And whether that was a disappointed or netural tone.

He hasn’t let go of your hand. He walks to the door with you, still keeping your hand in his. It’s hard not to let yourself read into it now. How holding hands with him could be such a casual thing. Hard not to imagine walking through bookshops with him, one hand in yours and the other picking books off the shelf he thought you’d like. The domesticity of it sickens you.

Then he lets go to cross to the bed.

“Aren’t you gonna put your pyjama’s on?” You ask.

“I wasn’t gonna sleep yet,” he says, “I was gonna...”

He looks bashful, suddenly, self-consciously licking his lower lip, “I was gonna ask if maybe you wanted to watch something with me. You can pick. I always pick.”

“This an excuse to get me in bed with you again, Spence?” You tease, just past tipsy enough not to care that this is the first time you’ve even acknowledged that night.

"Yeah, the Pearl Harbour ruse doesn’t work twice,” he jokes.

You wish you could find the courage to tease him more. Unfortunately, the liquid courage seems to have run out, and the topic somehow feels too delicate to touch.. Instead, you change quickly into your pyjama’s. Together, you pick something to watch, settling down. You’re suddenly thankful for the single bed, the necessity to be cozied up against him as you watch. To feel his chest, every beat of his heart. You swear it’s beating fast. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

***

Just like last time, you wake up huddled against Spencer. Unlike last time, there’s no Emily banging the door down to drag you to the police station. No, it’s quiet.

You can’t see what time it is because there’s a Spencer between you and the clock. Your phone is in your back pocket but it’s hard to find any motivation whatsoever to move when you’re like this: face pressed into his chest, his head resting atop of yours so a single curl of his hair tickles your nose, his hand on your hip holding you against him.

His eyelashes flutter, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah. I just woke up.”

He smiles, “Me too.”

“Looks like we did it again.”

“Looks like we did,” his voice is quiet.

“Do you want me to move? If I’m...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His free hand comes up to your chin, tipping it so you’re looking him directly in the eyes. His pupils are dilated. In the dim light it’s hard to place the look on his face exactly. But it’s soft.

"C-Can I kiss you?” the question spills quickly from his lips, like he’s afraid he’ll change his mind if he doesn’t get it out fast, “I just. I don’t know if that’s what you want too, I’ve just really-”

"Kiss me, Spence. Please kiss me.”

The smile on his face would have made you fall in love with him, if you weren’t already. And then he kisses you. Barely. Your lips are just grazing against one anothers. You tilt yourself upwards, towards him, giving him a better angle. Then he really kisses you, capturing your lips in his. It’s sweet, it’s soft, it’s...it’s everything. It’s everything, how his hands tangle themselves tentatively in your hair, how he kisses you so deeply, drinking you in.

His hand cups your cheek, then he’s pulling back, just a tiny bit, to mumble against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The only appropriate way you can think to verbalise your agreement, is closing the gap between your lips again. There’s an urgency to it this time. Your lips move quickly, passionately. He swipes his tongue across your lower lip and you let him in, your tongues delicately dancing together. He’s good. He’s good and you don’t even notice the morning breath or faint taste of rum, it’s just Spencer.

When you finally come apart, you’re out of breath.

“I didn’t think you’d ever do that,” you say, “I was worried I was reading this whole thing wrong.”

He frowns then, that little nose crinkle appearing again, “I thought I was too obvious.”

“So did I. Maybe it’s best if we don’t tell Hotch how bad we are at profiling each other. He might rethink his decision to take us on.”

He laughs, “Not being able to profile when somebody’s in love with you might be a cause for concern. There are several obvious phyical signs of love, including dilation of pupils when looking at the object of your affection, heart rate synchronisation.”

“How am I supposed to know if our heart rates have synchronised?”

He smiles. Pressing a finger to your lips, he dips his head in the small chasm between your two chests. In the silence, in the early morning quiet, in the absence of all distraction you can hear it. The steady thrum of your hearts, pounding away at identical paces. The sound that told you that some part of you had always known.

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

Tagslist: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from this list)

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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stovetuna · 3 years

Note

How much does Steve melt, the first time he sees how good Tony is with kids?

anon I am so busy with work but there are so many good li’l prompts in my inbox OH NO WHATEVER SHALL I DO anyways—

obvs there’s the scenario in which steve and tony are already together/in a deeply committed relationship (see also: MARRIED) and are discussing kids and whether or not they want to adopt or use a surrogate or if they should even do it given who they are and what their lives are like (and ofc Tony would have at least one “oh god what if I’m a horrible father like Howard was??” meltdown for some extra ~drama~)

but it’s me, and you know I *live* for pining!Steve, so imagine: Steve (who has been nursing a crush on Tony for ages but doesn’t want to ruin their friendship/doesn’t think he’s good enough/doesn’t think Tony wants him that way/take your pick of Steve angst) volunteers to join Tony at a very Tony-specific event, say, an MIT job fair. lots of smart kids doing smart things way above even Steve’s pay grade all clamoring to work for Stark Industries or intern for the Avengers tech squad or NASA, etc. (Steve would also like to talk to the folks at NASA because let’s not forget our man is an absolute nerd in his own right and would like to volunteer for their next, extra-dangerous space mission...)

Steve basically acts as body-man-slash-Tony’s-time-manager the whole time, because he knows Tony is liable to get tunnel vision if someone comes to him with a particularly good idea. The MIT kids are more interested in the science of Steve than Steve himself, so once he makes it clear that Tony’s the one to talk to about anything super-serum related, they all pretty much leave him alone.

which is fine, because that leaves Steve with extra time to just observe Tony in one of his many elements: talking “cool science stuff” with the next generation of the world’s brightest minds, hands waving around, suit jacket and tie discarded, his hair a mess after running his excited fingers through it one too many times—happy. He gets to watch Tony be happy and excited and genuinely engaged with people who understand him, which makes Steve pine that much harder because Tony can never be that around Steve, of course!! Steve’s not smart or quick enough to even come close :(((

(steve, darling, your low sense of self-worth is showing.)

AND THEN! an older student—I like to imagine a mom who fought tooth and nail to get back into school after having to leave for a number of years to deal with Life Stuff and eventually managed to nab a spot in one of MIT’s grad programs beyond all hope, all on her own—approaches the Stark Industries table with a very fussy, very noisy, very literal baby strapped to her chest.

Steve turns around to tell Tony his 3 o’ clock is here, but oh look, Tony is already there, telling Steve as he passes “oh my god Steve look it’s a baby!” and then stumbling around the table in his excitement, eyes big and round and shining. he the woman’s resume before she can even try to hand it to him (Steve usually is fast enough to intercede) and folds it up and places it in his wallet before he’s asking her—Shantelle, her name is Shantelle—if he can hold the baby while they talk.

so Steve’s helplessly watching as Shantelle unhooks the contraption while Tony holds the baby—Faith, who’s maybe six or seven months old and already has her mother’s eyes—under her arms and then moves her around to cradle her against his chest. Steve watches the two adults move around to the other side of the table out of the throes of traffic to talk, and they do, intensely and excitedly and animatedly, but all the while Tony holds baby Faith in his arms, running a knuckle down the middle of her back and humming under his breath whenever he stops talking. he looks—he looks blissed out, Steve thinks, and Faith is passed out completely, drooling on Tony’s very expensive shirt and gripping his designer sunglasses hanging from his collar in one sticky, chubby fist.

by the end of their half hour meeting, Shantelle has a job at SI and Faith has an ample education fund (K-12 AND college) waiting for her, personal courtesy of Tony Stark. and Steve literally just stares at them the whole time, at the drooling, sleeping baby on Tony’s chest, at the shine in the man’s eyes when he passes her back to her mother, at the smiling way Tony tells Shantelle not to worry about the drool or the crushed glasses, at the wave he sends her off with.

Steve is ready to propose on the spot. he doesn’t, but he imagines it, because he would literally put down his life, his shield, if it meant giving Tony a life in which they could have a family and he’d get to see Tony’s face light up like that every day. it’s such a perfect, beautiful fantasy Steve almost tears up on the spot.

all he manages, after the fair is over and Steve’s talked to the NASA folks and their arms are full of resumes, is “I didn’t know you liked kids so much.” it comes out kinda gruff because he’s still lowkey on the verge of tears just imagining carrying around a baby while Tony makes cooing noises at her or letting her sleep on his chest after he’s passed out on the workshop couch.

meanwhile Tony’s off and babbling about how babies and young kids are purely innocent with zero ulterior motives or cynicism and they just make him look forward to the future that much more because “babies are the purest expression of hope I can imagine” and Steve’s heart CLENCHES, but he says nothing.

later on, he draws Tony like that: fast asleep on the ratty workshop sofa, a baby passed out on his chest, his arm around her to keep her from rolling off, instinctual protectiveness amplified by his being Tony Stark, who would rather die than see someone he loves get hurt.

as Steve shuts the notebook and turns out the light, he imagines the baby opening bright eyes the same color blue as Steve’s and grinning toothlessly when she sees him standing in the workshop doorway. he falls asleep thinking about that. he spends every day of the next week thinking about that. every time he looks at Tony, his subconscious adds a baby, and that shining look in Tony’s eyes. and he wants it. all of it.

finally, after a tough mission and an even tougher de-brief, in the middle of Tony ranting—halfway out of his seat—at Steve about him holding the reins too tight and not letting the team improvise enough, Steve just stares straight into Tony’s eyes and says, “I’ll make it up to you if you let me take you to dinner tonight.”

he doesn’t know where it came from, but it’s worth it given how Tony all but swallows his tongue and just dumbly nods, still halfway out of his seat, hand hanging in the air mid-jabbing finger motion.

that evening, Steve takes him to a Burger King that still has a play area kids can use and delights in watching Tony try to focus on his date with Steve and the gaggle of toddlers in the ball pit on the other side of the glass. it’s the best first date Steve’s ever had (and his last first date, period. naturally).

#wow whoops here's a word vomit fic #stevetony #I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS #maybe Scenario One would come after Scenario Two #like #years down the line Steve and Tony are fully Married and Steve really wants to have at least A kid so he can fulfill this longstanding fant #the domestic life Steve didn't think he wanted or deserved after the ice but which Tony is MORE than willing to provide #but Tony ofc freaks out about Bad Dad what-ifs and Steve has to reassure him that he is not Howard and it's entirely his decision what kind #and also Steve wouldn't let it happen #so they adopt a baby and she and Faith have lots of playdates happily ever after THE END #rachel writes fic #stony fic #kinda

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro drabble #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #nekoma high #nekoma haikyuu #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo x y/n

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nikkoliferous · 3 years

Text

Phase One: Avengers (Part Two)

Apparently I had so much to comment on this crappy book that I had to break this up into two parts (you can read part one here). No, I have nothing to say for myself. Lol

Let’s continue.

Clint Barton and Loki’s hand-picked strike team were in a stolen Quinjet with a faked S.H.I.E.L.D. call sign, 26-Bravo. That got them close enough that by the time the air-traffic officer on the Helicarrier knew something was wrong, it was already too late.

Whoa whoa whoa. I thought you said Loki didn’t care about the details. I thought you said such things were beneath him. Make up your mind.

With a last heave and twist, she freed herself from the fallen beam and ran. At that moment, the Hulk turned and saw her. She vaulted up a stairway and onto the next level. The Hulk swiped at the stairway and shredded it into scrap metal. Loki had gotten what he wanted. He must have been trying to time it so he could manipulate Bruce into becoming the Hulk right as his soldiers came to attack the Helicarrier. The Hulk would do at least as much damage from the inside as the rogue Quinjet could do from the outside.

Yes. Yes, he did. Lol

Natasha kept running, and the Hulk came right behind her. For a moment, she thought she’d lost him, but then he came at her out of the shadows, roaring. He was like walking rage, a single-minded engine of destruction. She shot a hole in the pipe over his head. Steam shot out of it into the Hulk’s eyes, stopping him for just the moment she needed to get a head start. She ran as fast as she could, but she knew she wasn’t going to stay away from him for long. He came after her, smashing through bulkheads and doorways like they weren’t even there and roaring the whole time.

Mood, though.

Steve got to the edge of the turbine mount about the same time as Tony. “I’m here!” he called out.

“Good,” Tony said, dropping into view and hovering in the Iron Man armor to survey the wreckage. He had the suit on, and Steve could hear his voice through the earbud microphone all S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel wore. At least that channel was still intact; if they lost communications, they’d be done for.

Convenient. Clint would absolutely know this, which means either 1) he's incompetent, 2) he's not as mind-controlled as we think, or 3) Loki allowed/arranged for his own team's semi-failure.Take your pick.

“What’s it look like in there?” Tony asked.

“It seems to run on some form of electricity,” Steve said.

Tony was shoving loose huge pieces of debris that prevented the turbine blades from rotating. “Well, you’re not wrong,” he said.

Steve fumed. He wasn’t here for technical support. But that was all he could do at the moment.

Ironic for Steve to call out Tony for being useless without his suit when Steve is apparently useless at anything other than beating people up. Lol

Tony stood inside the turbine housing, looking at the blades. He’d cleared most of the debris jamming the rotors. “Even if I clear the rotors,” he said, “this thing won’t reengage without a jump. I’m going to have to get in there and push.”

“If that thing gets up to speed, you’ll get shredded,” Steve said.

Hey hey hey now, I thought Tony wasn't the type of guy to sacrifice himself??

The Hulk stomped around the flight deck, roaring. He saw Thor and swung a fist twice the size of Thor’s head. Thor caught it in both hands, straining to hold both the Hulk’s arm and his attention. “We are not your enemies, Banner,” he grunted. “Try to think!”

Now, where have I heard that before...?

In answer, the Hulk punched him through the wall.

Jealous.

Thor got up and watched the Hulk coming after him. Now this was a fight! He held out a hand, waiting for Mjolnir to return to him. Mjolnir smashed through another wall and reached Thor’s hand just as the charging Hulk came within striking distance.

What's a little bloodlust between friends, amirite?

The Hulk caught the hammer, and a fierce grin spread over his face… then he toppled backward and Mjolnir pinned him to the floor of the hangar.

None but I can lift Mjolnir, Thor thought. Not even this giant.

Yes, yes. You're very special, Thor. We're all super impressed, promise.

“You like this?” Coulson asked, meaning the gun. “We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don’t know what it does.” He powered it up, and rings along its barrel glowed bright orange. “Want to find out?”

But Loki wasn’t there in front of him. Thor saw it too late to do anything. That Loki was an illusion… and the real Loki was behind Coulson.

Lokiception.

“You lack conviction,” Coulson said. He did not move from where he sat against the wall. Blood trickled at the corner of his mouth, and the enormous gun lay uselessly across his lap.

Of all the things Coulson might have said, this was perhaps the one Loki expected least. I have moved worlds out of conviction, he thought. Made bargains with beings who snuff out planets as an afterthought. “I don’t think I…”

"bargains"

“Tasha,” he said. “How many agents did I—?”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.” Better than maybe anyone on the Helicarrier, Natasha Romanoff knew you couldn’t blame yourself for things you did while you were brainwashed. All you could do was try to heal and get things right the next time.

OH? DO TELL.

“Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I’ll give you that one,” Tony said. “But let’s do a head count here. Your brother the demigod, a Super-Soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend, a man with breathtaking anger-management issues, a couple of master assassins… and you, big fella, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.”

“That was the plan,” Loki said with a grin.

“Not a great plan,” Tony said.

YOU'RE RIGHT, TONY. IT'S AN OBJECTIVELY TERRIBLE PLAN. NOW ASK YOURSELF WHY HE WOULD DO THAT ON PURPOSE.

“You’re missing the point!” he said, and his tone got sharper. “There’s no throne, there is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it’s too much for us… but it’s all on you. Because if we can’t protect the Earth, you can be sure we’ll avenge it.”

Weeeeeell...

With those last words, he tapped Tony on the chest with his scepter, just has he had Hawkeye and Dr. Selvig. Nothing happened. The Arc Reactor in Tony’s chest countered the scepter’s effect.

Loki tried it again. “This usually works.…”

“Well,” Tony said, “best-laid plans. You know the saying.”

Uncomfortable with mild swear words and dick jokes, I see. Lol

Look at this!” Thor shouted, holding Loki and forcing him to gaze out over the destruction in the city. “You think this madness will end with your rule?”

“It’s too late,” Loki said. Thor thought he was beginning to understand what he had done. “It’s too late to stop it.”

“No,” Thor said. “We can. Together.”

Loki looked him in the eye… and then betrayed Thor again, stabbing him in the side with a knife hidden in his sleeve. Thor dropped to the ground, clutching the wound. “Sentiment,” Loki said mockingly.

OH MY GOD. HE'S MOCKING HIMSELF, YOU ABSOLUTE KNUCKLEHEAD. I swear to god, this author sat down and went, "Hmm. How can I systematically erase any and all complexity this character possesses so he's as generic a villain as possible?"

CASE IN POINT:

On a bridge, Cap huddled behind a destroyed car with the Black Widow and Hawkeye. “Lots of civilians trapped up there,” Hawkeye said, indicating the nearby buildings. A flight of Chitauri went over, and Cap noticed something different about one of them.

“Loki,” he said. He was shooting at the civilians fleeing through the streets. “They’re fish in a barrel down there.”

It can be admittedly hard to tell because most shots of the Chitauri vehicles firing on people are from too far away to tell who's piloting... but I checked the clips from the Battle of NY and the only person Loki can definitively be seen firing at is Natasha. On another Chitauri whatever-you-call-them. Not even aiming for the street.

Thor was still watching the Chitauri zipping overhead. “I have unfinished business with Loki.”

“Yeah?” Hawkeye said. “Get in line.”

“Save it,” Steve said. “Loki’s going to keep this fight focused on us, and that’s what we need. Otherwise those things could run wild. We’ve got Stark up on top—”

Almost as if... according to plan...

Look, I have historically not bought into the full "Loki formed the Avengers so he could lose on purpose" theory because I feel that it contradicts the canon explanation that he was being influenced by the sceptre. But... you'd have to be an absolute moron to think he wasn't sabotaging himself, whether accidentally or on purpose. I suppose one could argue that just because it was amplifying his negative emotions, that doesn't necessarily mean it prevented him from working against his "allies". But if it wasn't affecting his actions at all, I don't know why they'd bother to confirm the theory as canon.

Also, like... according to this book, Loki is somehow targeting civilians and not targeting civilians at the same time ?? lmao

“Dr. Banner,” Steve said. “Now might be a really good time for you to get angry.”

Bruce was already walking toward the Leviathan. “That’s my secret, Captain,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m always angry.”

Same, tbh.

Thor reached the top of the Empire State Building and lifted Mjolnir. Storm clouds gathered and lightning struck down, hundreds of bolts reaching for Mjolnir. Thor turned the Empire State Building’s iconic spire into a lightning rod, gathering the force of the elements into it. Then he thrust Mjolnir in the direction of the portal. All the energy he had built up blazed out in a single forking bolt. It struck and destroyed every single Chitauri between the Empire State Building and the portal itself. Hundreds of them exploded and tumbled from the sky at once, including several of the Leviathans that tumbled down to smash into buildings below.

...so why didn't Thor just keep doing this for the rest of the battle? Too draining, or not exciting enough? Lol

Satisfied, Thor nodded and glanced over at the Hulk. Perhaps the scales were evened from their last fight against each other on the Helicarrier—

The Hulk shot out his left fist and smashed Thor all the way across the block-long gallery. Then it was his turn to look satisfied.

Jealous. Again.

Maybe that was just Loki, but Steve was starting to feel like the Chitauri were going to absorb every punch the Avengers could throw. They had to close that portal, or nothing was going to stop the invasion.

Well then. It sure is fortunate that Loki allowed Selvig to install a failsafe, huh?

Fury stood and listened to the World Security Council explain that they had decided to take the operation out of his hands. They were going to use a nuclear missile to destroy the Tesseract and close the portal—but at the cost of untold civilian lives. Fury protested as strongly as he could and one of the councilors cut him off. “Director Fury. The Council has made a decision.”

These crazy motherfuckers would have killed so many more people than Loki it's not even funny.

...and tbh, it probably wouldn't even have destroyed the Tesseract, so they would have killed them for literally no reason too.

The Hulk paused, confused.

“You are, all of you, beneath me!” Loki raged.

Not yet, sir, but I would very much like to be. 😏

She knelt next to him and said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

Selvig digested this for a moment and then said, “Actually I think I did. I built in a safety to cut the power source.”

Of note and as alluded to previously:

1) The mind control over Barton and Selvig was not absolute either; therefore, if they are not responsible for their actions over the course of this movie, Loki is not responsible for his either.

2) If The Other could hear everything Loki was up to, it's very likely that Loki could hear everything Barton and Selvig were up to as well. Meaning that, at a minimum, he knew about the failsafe and did nothing about it.

The missile had a lot of momentum built up, and Tony’s Mark 7 suit was not operating at full capacity after the amount of energy he’d expended in the battle already. It was no easy task to get the missile angled up sharply enough to clear the tallest buildings in Midtown—especially Stark Tower. That was where the missile seemed to want to go. So, Tony thought, the World Security Council is jealous of me, too.

Look, I get that he's mostly just being witty, but seriously... this dude is out here accusing Loki of being an egomaniac? Lol

He got underneath the missile and angled it upward, straining against its stabilizers, which tried to keep it on course. But slowly he forced it up, and once he got its warhead pointed at an angle, pushing it into a steeper climb got easier. A little.

Steve Rogers’s voice broke his concentration. “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip?”

So... you're admitting you were wrong, then? 🙃

The Avengers looked up. On the roof of Stark Tower, Natasha said, “Come on, Stark.”

They saw the explosion through the portal, brilliant as a new sun. There was no way Tony could have survived that.

I was wrong about him, Steve thought. When the time came, he did make the sacrificial play.

Thanks, Steve. That's really all I wanted.

Loki had just gotten himself put back together enough to get out of the hole in the floor. Painfully he dragged himself toward the door. Never had a mortal damaged him as much as that green monster. He would be healing for a long time.

He's literally in better shape now than when he came through the portal. And the author made zero mention of his health there.

But heal he would, and then he would have his revenge. Even though the portal had collapsed and he had lost the Tesseract. Even though his Chitauri army was destroyed. Loki would show the so-called Avengers they never should have opposed him.

Raise your hand if you watched Avengers and thought Loki was thinking about revenge right after getting Hulk-smashed. Why aren't any of you raising your hands??

Seriously, there are two emotions I felt from Loki at the end of Avengers Assemble: relief and anxiety. I have no idea why Alex Irvine is so intent on turning him into a boring, one-dimensional villain, but it made this book absolutely insufferable to read.

Anyway, that's it! I hope you all found this as entertaining and cathartic as I did. Lol

↩️ Back to Part One

#loki meta #loki #thor #tony stark #steve rogers #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #clint barton #avengers assemble #mcu #phase one: avengers

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duelistkingdom · 3 years

Text

you’d come back to me

chapter two: at the seams

[first chapter] [master list] [next chapter] [read on ao3]

Summary: Seto Kaiba has been presumed dead for four years after the events of Dark Side of Dimensions. His return causes both unresolved feelings of grief to be brought to the surface and the past to be dragged right back up. In hopes of helping Seto move on and reintegrate back into society at large, Mokuba asks Yugi to work on Spherium II with Seto. Never one to leave a friend hanging, Yugi agrees. Over the course of the project, Seto and Yugi both come to terms with their mutual grief and grow towards a better understanding of each other.

Rating: T

Ships: Yugi Mutou/Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba/Rebecca Hopkins, Katusya Jonouchi/Mai Kujaku

Warnings: aged up characters, grief, references to suicide

consider supporting me on kofi

Kaiba stared up at the large building as he tried to build up the courage to actually enter the building. The appointment Mokuba had scheduled for him was part of the plan to help him reenter society at large. Apparently he’d gotten this idea from one of his friends and Seto scowled. A lot had changed in the missing years, apparently. It took everything in him to finally enter the building and head up to the office.

The first thing he noted about the office was that the therapist’s desk was pushed to the wall. The second thing he noted was the line of degrees, including a doctorate in psychology. He noted the name on the degree: Makoto Reiki. Seto also noted the way the chairs were laid out. Each option put Seto in the position of having to actually look at the therapist. Not only that, it became obvious to him that there was a trap laying in each of the choices. Surely the therapist was already poking around for weaknesses to use to his advantage.

Everything was, after all, a game. No one knew that better than Seto. “Well,” the doctor asked and Seto instantly disliked the smile on the doctor’s face. “Aren’t you going to sit? Surely it has to be uncomfortable to stand around like that.”

“I’m fine,” Seto said, crossing his arms. “Shall we get on with this pointless endeavor?”

“If that is how you feel,” Dr. Reiki said before turning back to his computer. Seto instantly felt irked when the man began to work, actively ignoring him.

This had to be yet another trick on his part. Perhaps to see how long Seto could handle boredom until it actually drove him crazy. “Aren’t you going to try to talk to me?”

“You said it yourself that you consider this to be pointless,” the doctor said, not bothering to look up from his computer. “Your brother is going to pay me regardless if you talk to me.”

Seto scowled. “So you’re a con artist.”

“If that is how you’d like to view me,” Reiki said with a shrug. “You can continue to waste your time and your brother’s money by standing there, or you can sit down and introduce yourself. It’s your choice.”

For a minute, Seto considered. He could indeed simply do as the doctor suggested. Though there was one last tactic he could try to get out of this appointment and appointments like it. “Or I could tell Mokuba that you’re wasting his money and that we should abandon this idea entirely.”

“You certainly could do that,” the doctor remarked, turning towards Seto. This threat didn’t seem to rattle him in the slightest. “However, I do have a waitlist of people who wish to see me and there are people who would like to see but do not have the funds. I come highly recommended in my field. I will be fine without you as a patient. Although, I imagine your brother might not let the idea of you seeing a professional go.”

“What?”

“You disappeared for four years under mysterious circumstances. Your brother takes temporary control of the company, insisting you’ll be back despite evidence to suggest that you are dead,” Reiki said, and it felt like his eyes were peering right into Seto’s soul. “You reappear four years later. Unchanged. Surely your brother is concerned about the effects of what might have happened to you and would like you to process it.”

Seto gave a soft ‘tch’. “I knew you were a hack,” Seto said, pressing down the feeling of anger. This man didn’t know him and he’d certainly never understand what Seto went through. “There’s nothing to discuss about those missing four years. I’m fine.”

“In that case, perhaps it might help if you simply spoke with me,” the therapist said, gesturing to the chair in front of him. “If you’re fine, then a session or two where we simply talk is all it would take for me to give you a clean bill of health.”

For that, Seto had no argument. Seto sighed before taking the seat the therapist had directed him to. “Fine,” Seto said. “What do we talk about in these sessions?”

“Let’s start with something simple,” Dr. Reiki said, finally facing him. For the first time, Seto could see that Reiki appeared to be in his late forties, early fifties. “Such as, how you feel about your return to Earth.”

How he felt? Seto’s eyes narrowed as he tried to size up what Reiki was after. There had to be an acceptable answer. Instantly he discounted the true answer - he felt nothing. Seto knew from prior experience that this was not what people wanted to hear. “I feel relieved,” Seto said, deciding that was the best course of action. “It means that the technology to cross dimensions works. To a degree, anyway. Perhaps with some fine tuning, it can dimension jump without the loss of time.”

“I see,” Dr. Reiki remarked and Seto felt strange as he noted something down on a notepad. “How do you feel about the missing years? Four years is quite some time to miss.”

“There’s nothing that can be done about it,” Seto replied automatically. Immediately he cursed the statement. Seto had a feeling that was not what Reiki was looking to hear. Even worse: he could not read Reiki. “That is… four years have passed already. There is no point in dwelling on something that cannot be fixed.”

Reiki raised a brow and Seto got the feeling that he somehow knew every little thing that Seto had ever dwelled on. “Is that why you destroyed Alcatraz all those years ago? Because it couldn’t be fixed?”

“No,” Seto said, rather bluntly. “I’d rather not talk about Alcatraz.”

“I see,” Reiki remarked as he made another note. Seto felt briefly like he was being judged for his refusal. “You know, I’ve been curious about something. The last time Yugi Mutou and you dueled, you kept insisting that he be someone else. Would you like to explain?”

“It’s complicated,” Seto said, not about to explain something he barely understood himself. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then try to explain it to me.”

Seto wasn’t sure where to start. Honesty with strangers was not one of his strong suits nor was self reflection. The last time he’d allowed himself to look back had been when the Pharaoh had forced him to look at his past. “I regret blowing up the Duel Tower,” he finally said, figuring it was the best starting point. “I hadn’t known at the time that it would be the last time I would get to Duel the Pharaoh.”

“Mr. Mutou’s Dueling alter-ego?”

“More than that,” Seto said, hesitant now. “Forget it. You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I see,” the doctor said as he leaned back in his chair. “Your brother prepared me for some of the… shall we say less plausible elements of the story? According to him, Mr. Mutou’s Dueling alter-ego was actually the spirit of a forgotten Egyptian Pharaoh. You would be right to say that is hard to believe.”

“If you knew, then why did you ask?”

“Professional curiosity. I wanted to see if your version of events would line up with your brother’s,” Reiki said with a light shrug and an easy going smile. “I take it then that your brother did not exaggerate.”

“He did not,” Seto said begrudgingly. “After Battle City, I only saw the Pharaoh once more before he left for Egypt. Yugi came back. He did not. At first… I thought perhaps it was simply because the Puzzle… That maybe, if I simply fixed it...”

“I take it that this was not the case?” Seto straightened further as Reiki’s eyes seemed to bear straight into him, searching for weakness. How was he doing this? Seto did not want to reveal the deepest parts of his soul to this complete stranger. “It’s fine, Seto. Everything stays within these walls.”

“I sought out one last Duel with the Pharaoh,” Seto finally said, hating the idea of Reiki coming up with his own conclusions more than being honest with the man. “I didn’t even get that.”

“What exactly happened?” Reiki seemed honestly curious. “Out of scientific curiosity, of course. From your point of view, what happened when you were gone for those four years?”

“If it’s in the interest of science,” Seto replied automatically. Scientific logs he could do. “I had managed to accurately pinpoint the dimension in which the Pharaoh was located with the dimension canon, however, I had been concerned that there may be more alternate versions of the Pharaoh that I had not accounted for. For me, it was only a few hours in which we discussed why I was there. He refused to Duel me and sent me back, claiming that a Duel was not what I sought.”

Seto clenched his fists, angry that the Pharaoh had dared to suggest that Seto did not know his own thoughts. He had been as arrogant as ever. “I went all that way for nothing,” Seto growled, unable to help himself. “And what was I left with? Four missing years, a brother who doesn’t want to talk to me, and a world that moved on without me. I was launched into a future that is meaningless without the Pharaoh in it.”

It was a slip that Seto hadn’t even noticed himself making. Dr. Reiki had not interrupted once and remained infuriatingly calm. “You think the future is meaningless because a ghost that was not meant to exist in this world doesn’t exist in it?” Seto froze and did not answer the question. He crossed his arms across his chest, hoping to block the therapist from him. “You don’t have to tell me now. You can tell me at our next appointment.”

Seto had no intention of returning to this therapist’s office.

It had been three months since Seto Kaiba had wandered back into Yugi’s life. Yugi had once thought that maybe he and Seto could be friends. Now? There was a lot of resentment within Yugi regarding how Seto just left Mokuba. He knew that it wasn’t his place to be angry about it. Mokuba was Seto’s younger brother, not his. He shouldn’t care this much. But he’d seen how upset Mokuba had been when Seto left. Yugi was there when Seto wasn’t. Maybe that did make it Yugi’s place. Yugi had, after all, been the one to help Mokuba through the worst of it.

And there were a lot of complex emotions that went into Seto being back. Most of them were conflicting. However, there was one thing that rang out underneath all those emotions, and it was that Yugi was, at the very least, grateful that Seto was still alive. He was grateful that there was another chance to try at being friends with Seto. Not only that, he was grateful that Mokuba didn’t have to say goodbye forever to his only remaining family. Mokuba wasn’t orphaned for the third time. Sure, Mokuba had managed to build a life in Seto’s absence.Yugi had been the one that Mokuba went to when he first wanted to ask Rebecca out, and at the time, Yugi could only think that it should have been Seto instead. Seto should’ve been the one to listen to Mokuba’s concerns about asking his crush out. It should’ve been Seto who had been waiting for Mokuba to come home from his first date. And it should’ve been Seto that Mokuba told when things were starting to get serious. Maybe Yugi shouldn’t be fixating on the things Seto should have been there for. He was starting to get angry again.

Didn’t Seto realize how deeply selfish he had been? When he came back, there wasn’t a single apology. Nothing that admitted he had been wrong. Nothing about how it might have impacted everyone around him. No, it had been him complaining that Mokuba wouldn’t let him use his laptop. It was arguing with Yugi when he suggested they dismantle the dimension hopping pod. Nothing to admit why Mokuba and Yugi might feel the way they do.

Yugi was familiar with the layout of Kaiba Corp but in his frustration, he must have gotten distracted and taken a wrong turn somewhere. “Great,” he muttered to no one in particular, realizing he was lost. He couldn’t even remember how he got here - just that he had wanted to be alone and started walking. Seemed he was more up in his thoughts than he first realized. Yugi couldn’t even blame Atem for this and the knife twisted in his heart just a little deeper at the mere thought of Atem’s name.

Yugi had put the memory loss down to ADHD when it first started happening - when Atem first began sharing his mind. He didn’t want to worry his friends about it back then. He still didn’t like to worry his friends now... Yugi realized he was starting to get lost in his thoughts again. Now while figuring out how to get back to his office was not a good time to get lost in his own head. This needed all his attention, especially when he was on a floor of Kaiba Corp he’s never visited before. Kaiba Corp’s indistinguishable, monotone hallways made it difficult to create markers in his head of where he was. He was completely turned around when he opened a door and found himself in a circular room with bright lights and a different kind of clinical feel. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. A computer voice announced, “Program start.”

“Sorry, I didn’t ask for any program to start,” Yugi called out, well-aware it was probably not programmed for his voice if he’d never been there. Did Mokuba know about this? Was this a leftover project from before Seto left? His eyes went wide as the room around him shimmered digitally . “Okay, that’s freaky,” Yugi remarked, turning to where he entered. He frowned when he saw the door was gone. Instead, what appeared to be a church now surrounded him. Only Seto would be dramatic enough to recreate a church within the walls of Kaiba Corp. “How am I supposed to get out of here?”

“How did you get in here, Yugi?”

Yugi froze. The voice was so familiar. So achingly familiar that Yugi was certain he had to be dreaming. Except that voice would never call him by his name. That voice had only ever called him “partner” or “my other self”. It was so familiar and so wrong. He slowly turned around and oh, it was almost him too. No, this was not the man he missed every day - so much that it ached in his chest. Yugi had thought he had fully moved on, but seeing how he looked when he shared a body with Yugi felt like a knife to his heart. If Yugi killed Seto, it was only fair, because Seto had stabbed Yugi in the heart with this false image of Atem first.

“You aren’t him,” Yugi said, surprised at how dry his throat was. He cleared his throat, trying to keep the tears from spilling. Oh, he had every right to find Seto and stab him for this. But killing Seto wouldn’t be a balm to this aching pain. “You… You’re gone. You’ve been gone for years.”

The false image didn’t seem to understand this. He titled his head, as if he were confused. It hurt so bad that Yugi felt like there was a small black hole in his heart, ripping apart his insides. Yugi would give anything to put a stopper in this pain at this moment. Every single feeling he ever had about Atem came rushing back. The last time he saw this face, it had taken everything in him to not foolishly beg him to stay. To beg the love of his life to abandon his family for him.

No. Yugi had let Atem walk out of his life. What stood before Yugi wasn’t him. Yugi desperately reminded himself of that, clinging to reality. This wasn’t Atem and it would be unwise to lose himself to a fantasy. It was so hard to remember the truth of what happened when Yugi so desperately wanted it to be him. He wanted to have made the selfish choice.

“I don’t understand,” the image said.

Yugi nearly choked on his own tears, the scar ripping open. He’d thought he’d moved on and managed to get over this grief. It now threatened to swallow him whole and drown him. “Computer, end program,” Yugi said, not even certain it would work. The hologram remained standing in front of him, looking confused by Yugi’s reaction. Of course it didn’t, Yugi thought again, the panic setting in. Kaiba couldn’t have possibly known how deep that friendship went or when it had bled into romantic feelings. It had been something Yugi had kept so close to his chest. “How did Kaiba end this program?”

Once again, the false image of Atem seemed confused by the question. “Kaiba normally comes in and duels me,” he said.

Of course. Just like the first time he was forced to duel Atem. Must it always be like that? Yugi regretted never once dueling Atem for fun. Maybe then he wouldn’t have this hard association with dueling Atem and Atem’s death. Yugi’s life was full of those little “if”s. If he had done this, if he had done that. Those little “if”s had never been so loud as they were right now. He thought he might go deaf from how they were screaming at him. “If I duel you and win, would that end the program?”

“Kaiba would typically leave after he dueled me.”

Yugi took that as a “yes”. “I don’t have a Duel Disk,” Yugi remarked with a frown. He also left his deck at home. Well, the one he was favoring now, anyway. The false image of Atem’s eyes brightened, reaching out to grab Yugi’s hand. “Hey, wait, what are you doing?”

“You said you don’t have a Duel Disk,” he said, pulling Yugi towards the altar. Oh, this was just sick. Kaiba couldn’t have known Yugi would wind up interacting with this false image of Atem. He was certain that whatever reason Kaiba had for programming a spare Duel Disk in the altar, it wasn’t to hurt Yugi specifically. But all Yugi could think about now was how he’d always thought… Maybe, something could have worked out.

Something could’ve changed, and Atem really could’ve stayed with him forever. They could have built a proper life. Yugi blinked back tears as he reminded himself this wasn’t real. This wasn’t really Atem. Atem was dead. Atem had made his choice and Yugi had no choice but to continue to live on. It would have been an insult to Atem’s memory if he hadn’t moved forward.

Yugi yanked his hand back from the AI and reminded himself he needed to hold himself together. He couldn’t afford to get distracted like this. He could only think of how he once thought that… He banished the thought from his mind. “You don’t have to touch me,” Yugi said, shakier than he wanted to be. “Just…show me.”

Once again, the AI seemed confused by Yugi’s reactions. He imagined Seto must not have been as willing to remember that Atem was dead. The AI might not even be aware that it’s based on a dead man. Yugi couldn’t bring himself to ask the AI if he knew. It was a question that Yugi knew would only hurt him, regardless of the answer. He gestured to the empty altar and Yugi was instantly frustrated.

“It takes a while to generate sometimes.”

Generate… Yugi’s thought didn’t even finish as a Duel Disk began to materialize in front of him. Well, that certainly was never released to the public. “Solid Vision Duel Disk,” Yugi said, unable to help but be a little impressed by Seto’s tenacity. Out of all the things he expected, that was not one of them. It reminded him a little bit of the Duel Links network that Mokuba had released shortly after Kaiba’s disappearance. “I’m guessing he was working on this before he left?” The AI did not have an answer for him. He made a mental note to ask Mokuba about the project later. “Would it also let me build a deck here?”

“Kaiba uses virtual cards.”

It was such a simple answer and Yugi frowned. It was strange for this conversation to be framed within the context of what Kaiba did. Kaiba did this, Kaiba did that. Yugi and Atem’s conversations when Atem had been alive were rarely about Seto. “Right,” he said, putting the Solid Vision Duel Disk on his left arm. Some strange headgear was there too and Yugi barely figured out how to put it on. The mere thought of his deck back at home loaded cards into the virtual Duel Disk.

“Alright. Alright,” he said slowly, not sure if he should address the false image as he would Atem. Calling this fake Atem ‘my other self’ felt wrong but calling Atem by his name felt wrong too. Surely there was a compromise somewhere. “Then, let’s duel.”

The AI activated his Duel Disk a little too quickly for Yugi’s liking. It was too reminiscent of the ceremonial duel. Another detail Kaiba couldn’t have possibly been aware of.

“Let’s.”

Yugi nodded as the cards appeared before him, his eyes widening. It was an exact replica of his deck - as if the system was aware of his thoughts. It even shuffled the deck automatically and drew five cards. This is what Seto had been working on when he’d disappeared. Yugi got a glimpse of it four years ago and it was still strange to see. His starting hand wasn’t the worst he’d ever had as he examined the cards that had been generated. What deck did Seto give this AI? “You go first,” Yugi said, deciding to get a glimpse of what was in the AI’s deck.

Yugi noted that Seto had given the AI a paper card deck. He wondered if there was a reason behind it or if Seto just wanted to see if he could make solid vision cards that looked and acted like real cards. “First I summon Magician’s Rod in attack mode,” the AI stated and Yugi raised a brow. So it was based around Dark Magician. He shouldn’t have been surprised and yet he was. “I put the spell card Dark Magical Circle in my hand, and now I activate it. This allows me to look at the top three cards of my deck and add a card to my hand, so long as it has ‘Dark Magician’ in its text.” The AI revealed Dark Magic Inheritance to Yugi before returning the other two cards to his deck. “Next I discard Magician’s Robe from my hand to special summon Apprentice Illusion Magician. When she’s special summoned, she adds a Dark Magician from my deck to my hand! That ends my turn.”

Nothing that Yugi couldn’t handle. “Alright, my turn then,” Yugi said as he drew. “First, I’m going to summon Chocolate Magician Girl! She allows me to discard a spellcaster from my hand to draw a card!” He discarded Dark Magician, pulling out Clear Kuriboh. “I’m setting two cards,” he announced as he set two cards. Chocolate didn’t have the attack points to withstand an attack from Apprentice Illusion Magician. If he attacked Magician’s Rod, then he’d be wide open for an attack from Apprentice. “That ends my turn. Let’s see what you can do.”

The AI had the audacity to smirk. “Is that the best you’ve got,” he said, almost teasingly. Once again, Yugi had to remind himself that this wasn’t real. This wasn’t really Atem and he couldn’t let himself get lost in memories. “Such a shame. I’d expect better of you. I draw!” Yugi’s brow furrowed as he tried to think of what the AI could possibly do in an attempt to direct his attention away from the comment. “I’m going to set a card. And now, Apprentice will attack Chocolate!”

Yugi had gotten familiar with people being caught off guard by Chocolate’s effect but he didn’t expect the AI to actually be one of them. He couldn’t help himself: he laughed as Chocolate turned back to wink at him. “Really, I would think you’d know better than that,” Yugi said as Chocolate sprang out of the way of Apprentice’s attack while her wand waved to call back a familiar friend. “When Chocolate is targeted for attack, she calls forth a fallen ally to help and halves the attack of the attacker! Come forth, Dark Magician!”

Dark Magician sprang up on the field, twisting out in a graceful arc. Yugi had to admire the amount of time and dedication Seto put forth into each monster’s animated movements. Every card seemed to have its own personality.

“What?”

The AI’s response was so like Atem’s that Yugi almost wanted to believe that it was him and that he was dueling his old friend and… he couldn’t get caught up on that. This wasn’t Atem, he reminded himself. He needed to focus. “That’s not all! Your attack is redirected to Dark Magician! And Dark Magician strikes back with Dark Magic Attack!”

Apprentice was destroyed. The AI smirked, as if this was a minor inconvenience, as if he’d expected Yugi to have a counter. It was lines of code, Yugi reminded himself. He was nothing more than lines of code. The AI didn’t have feelings. “Very good, Yugi,” Atem said and it twisted in Yugi’s heart. He wanted to ask the AI to call him ‘partner’ instead but that would be giving in to the delusion. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do so. “Magician’s Rod cannot hope to destroy its master. I end my turn.”

Yugi drew into his deck, pulling out Berry Magician Girl. “I summon Berry Magician Girl in attack mode,” Yugi announced, pushing past his complicated feelings towards the AI. He needed to get out of here. He needed to focus. If Yugi was right, then Kaiba would’ve programmed this with some of Atem’s more powerful cards to support his ace. Yugi had no say in the deck this AI was playing. That thought twisted like a knife as he remembered how Atem and he used to build decks together. This was something they did together. “When Berry Magician Girl is summoned, she adds another Magician Girl to my hand! And I chose none other than Dark Magician Girl. Which I then discard to activate Chocolate’s effect of allowing me to draw another card.” This draw gave him nothing he could use right away but it didn’t matter. “Next I activate Gold Sarcophagus, banishing Monster Reborn from my deck for my next two Standby phases. Finally, Dark Magician attacks Magician’s Rod with Dark Magic Attack!”

“Not so fast,” the AI announced and Yugi realized he’d made a mistake in attacking too quickly. He’d forgotten about Atem’s set card. “I reveal my facedown, Time Chain! Your attack is negated and both our monsters are now chained. They are unable to attack or defend for the next two turns, returning back to our fields in the end phase.”

Perhaps this AI might have something of value to it, Yugi thought absently. It was definitely not Atem. He had to remind himself of that. This was not Atem and it would be foolish to lose himself in the fantasy. However, it certainly played well enough to help new Duelists and returning Duelists rediscover the game. It was the first time in a long while that Yugi had felt honestly challenged and it was a bit refreshing. “Well played…,” Yugi said, halting himself just before he slipped out an ‘other me’. “I end my turn.”

“It’s my turn,” he said before drawing a card and examining it. “I set a card and end my turn.”

Yugi’s brow furrowed as he tried to think of what the set card could be. There were cards he was familiar with in the AI’s deck so far but a couple seemed new. Like they were cards Kaiba thought that Atem might use with no concern about the input that Yugi himself would have. It was pointless to dwell on this thought. “Alright. My turn,” Yugi said as he drew yet again. Marshmacron. Not bad, he thought.

“My trap activates,” the AI announced. “Reveal Eternal Soul! Eternal Soul allows me special summon my Dark Magician onto the field. And now Dark Magical Circle activates, targeting Berry Magician Girl to be banished!”

“Not so fast,” Yugi said, his reaction much quicker than he thought possible. “Berry, when targeted by a card effect, switches to defense mode and calls forth another Magician Girl from my deck! Say hello to Apple Magician Girl!”

Apple Magician Girl swooped in, a light peal of laugh from her as she twirled around. Berry Magician Girl was still banished, but now he had another defense lined up. “You seem to have a lot of Magician Girls.”

“You would’ve liked ‘em,” Yugi said, unable to help himself in his retort. There was a small smile creeping across his face as he remembered how much Atem liked monsters like Watapon and Kuriboh. There was no doubt in his mind that if the Magician Girls existed when Atem was still sharing a body with him, they would’ve had them all in their deck. He wanted to ask Atem if he remembered that and it hit Yugi like a truck. He was starting to forget to remind himself this wasn’t Atem. He was getting too lost in this. “I mean… Nevermind. I set a monster face down in defense mode. Next I activate my trap, Dimension Sphinx, targeting Apple Magician Girl. You should see what it does. That ends my turn.”

Yugi would’ve liked to attack but without Dark Magician, he had no hope of getting past Atem’s own Dark Magician. The solution for removing Dark Magician was further in his deck. Insead, he just had to hope that the AI’s deck was not as well thought out as half the decks he and Atem used to build. It was Kaiba building a deck around Dark Magician, after all. “I draw,” the AI announced. “The effect of Eternal Soul allows me to put Thousand Knives from my deck into my hand. And now I activate Bond Between Teacher and Student, which special summons Dark Magician Girl and set a spell card. Next I activate Thousand Knives and target your set card!”

“Thanks,” Yugi shot back as Thousand Knives destroyed the first Marshmacaron. “Because when Marshmaracron is destroyed, it allows me to special summon from my deck two more Marshmaracrons in defense mode!”

“Fine,” Atem responded as he turned over Dark Magic Inheritance. “I activate Dark Magic Inheritance by banishing Bond Between Teacher and Student and Thousand Knives from my graveyard to add Magician’s Combination to my hand, which I now set. And now… Dark Magician and Dark Magician Girl will use Twin Burst Magic to destroy both of your Marshmaracrons! That ends my turn.”

Yugi was expecting that. He suspected the AI might learn from previous mistakes and thus the reluctance to attack Chocolate Magician Girl or Apple Magician Girl. The only safe monsters to attack had been those Marshmacarons. It’s exactly what Yugi would’ve done. Yugi’s next draw provided him with Silent Magician LVL 8. He couldn’t summon this without the first stage so there was only one choice. “I activate Chocolate’s effect by discarding Silent Magician LVL 8 to draw a card!” Magician’s Defense, which was workable with both Chocolate and Apple on the field. “Since it’s been two turns since Time Chain was activated, Dark Magician returns to the field! I’ll set a card and attack Dark Magician with Dark Magician!”

“What?”

“That’s right, both Dark Magicians are destroyed. But that’s not all,” Yugi said as he revealed the Dark Magic Veil in his hand. “I activate Dark Magic Veil, allowing me to pay 1000 life points to summon a Dark spellcaster from my hand or graveyard. And I chose Dark Magician! That ends my turn!”

The biggest threat on Atem’s board was taken care of. Dark Magician was a key component in most of his strategies and if he didn’t have it, then Yugi could focus on the next threat. Whatever was in his deck, Yugi was confident he could take care of it. “First, I activate the spell card Card of Sanctity,” he announced. “This requires us both to draw until we have six cards in hand.” Then he must not have anything useful in hand, Yugi thought as he drew his next four cards. “I now activate Chaos Form! By sacrificing Black Luster Soldier, I can ritual summon Magician of Black Chaos MAX!”

“What,” Yugi said, taken aback. Now there was a card that neither of them had ever used. Yugi couldn’t even afford that card when Atem was still in his heart. Yugi had been unable to track down a copy of his own. Kaiba gave this version of Atem that card? It was a reminder that this wasn’t real and it hurt more than Yugi expected. It broke the immersion. If Yugi didn’t have that card in his possession, then Atem could not possibly have it in his. That’s how it always worked. “You can’t have that card.”

It was a stupid statement and Atem did not acknowledge it. He didn’t blame him. “I’m setting a card as well. Next I’m activating Magical Dimension to tribute Magician’s Rod and destroy Apple Magician girl,” he said. “And now, Magician of Chaos MAX attacks Dark Magician!”

There wasn’t anything Yugi could do to stop him from destroying Dark Magician. Yugi eyed his life points as they dropped from 7000 to 6700. It’d been some time since Yugi had taken damage in a Duel from his opponent. Exactly four years, actually. “I activate my trap, Dig of Destiny,” he said as his set card flipped over. “When I take battle damage, I can draw a card!”

“As you wish,” Atem said, and Yugi felt another pang as he realized the smile on this version of Atem had never left his face. He knew for a fact Kaiba had never actually seen a smile like the one on Atem’s face. It was relaxed, open, and unburdened. “That ends my turn.”

Yugi examined the two cards added to his hand. Lemon Magician Girl and Mystical Space Typhoon. “It’s been two turns since Gold Sarcophagus was activated, thus Monster Reborn is now added to my hand,” he said, having no intention of using it. He didn’t use it last time and he wouldn’t use it this time either. Instead, he set both Dark Horizon and Metaphortess. “I activate Magical Contract Door. With this card, I add a spell card to your hand which adds a level 7 or higher Dark type monster to my hand.”

He tossed Monster Reborn to Atem’s hand and felt the knife twist in as Atem’s eyes widened at the card in his hand. He knew that this false Atem would activate that card, much like the real Atem had and Kaiba had. He was prepared for that to happen. “Why would you add this card to my hand?”

“Consider it a gift,” Yugi said, refocusing again. “To make up for this. I activate Mystical Space Typhoon, destroying Eternal Soul. And when Eternal Soul is destroyed, so are all your monsters! Now, Chocolate Magician Girl can attack you directly!”

With 4900 life points left, Atem was not in a good position. Yugi almost felt bad. He didn’t want to have to do this again and yet his hand was forced. He had to beat this version of Atem in a Duel. It helped when he reminded himself that this wasn’t real. It was a memory being played back to him. “Well played,” Atem said yet again, a smirk on his face as he drew. “I’m setting a card and activating the card you gave me to special summon Dark Magician Girl. I end my turn.”

Dark Magician Girl? If he had summoned Dark Magician, he could’ve attempted to banish Chocolate Magician Girl. Yugi’s brow furrowed as he realized there must be a deeper strategy to this choice and that it was something he wasn’t prepared for. What it was, Yugi had no idea. He added Green Gadget to his hand. Well, he could certainly try to stop him. “Fine,” he said. “In that case, I summon Green Gadget. And when Green Gadget is normal summoned, I can add Red Gadget to my hand!”

“Exactly what I was waiting for,” Atem announced. “I activate Dark Renewal, sacrificing both Green Gadget and Dark Magician Girl to bring back Magician of Black Chaos MAX!”

Well, that was not what Yugi wanted to see happen. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised but he had expected Atem to have chosen Dark Magician. Once again, he didn’t understand why Atem wouldn’t bring back Dark Magician. It could easily banish Chocolate if he did that. “I end my turn.”

“I activate Rebellion,” Atem announced after he drew. “Chocolate Magician Girl enters my control for the remainder of my turn. And now, she attacks you directly!” Chocolate’s eyes went blank as she shifted towards Atem’s side of the field. Her wand went high over her head before her attack connected to Yugi’s chest. Yugi had expected it to hurt emotionally but he absolutely was not expecting Chocolate’s direct attack to hit that hard. It took everything he had to stand his ground. “Next Magician of Black Chaos MAX attacks you directly too!”

That did it. Yugi could not hold his ground and was knocked back by the force of the attack. “I activate my trap, Dark Horizon,” he grunted out, pushing himself back up off the ground. He had no idea why Kaiba looked at this card game and thought ‘this doesn’t hurt enough’ but he absolutely had enough of it. “With this card, when I take damage, I can special summon a Dark type monster with an attack equal to or less than the damage I took! And I chose Dark Magician!”

He’d been in rougher situations than this. Sure, 2300 lifepoints wasn’t a good place to be but he at least had Dark Magician and Chocolate Magician Girl on the field. “Well then,” Atem said with a grin as Chocolate blinked and seemed almost stunned by what she’d done under Atem’s control. Once again, Yugi hated to give Kaiba any praise during this Duel, but he was impressed by the fact that the emotions Chocolate expressed seemed so genuine as she shifted back to his side of the field. “You brought him back. Good for you, Yugi. Control of Chocolate Magician Girl returns back to you. That ends my turn.”

“You aren’t supposed to call me Yugi,” Yugi said, unable to help himself. At least no one but this line of code in the form of his long gone boyfriend was here to see him in this moment of weakness. “You… you used to call me partner,” Yugi said as he drew a card, examining the card he had used against Aigami. Dimension Guardian was useful in that duel but it would be even more useful with whatever this AI would throw his way. “We were a team,” he said as he set Dimension Guardian and Red Gadget. “I”m setting a monster and a card. My turn is over.”

“Is that so,” the AI replied, only barely acknowledging the statement. Yugi nodded. “Would you prefer if I kept calling you Yugi or do you wish for me to call you as I did?”

Yugi felt numb. He didn’t know which he preferred. Both options were terrible reminders of what once was. He didn’t know what to choose when both felt like his heart was being ripped wide open. “I don’t know,” Yugi admitted, unable to help but look over the design. It was fairly accurate, Yugi noted, except… this version had just a little bit more definition in his upper arms than Yugi had at the time. It seemed like the shirt the AI wore clung just a little tighter to his chest too. It was maybe a little bit flattering, Yugi decided. “I suppose it depends on how like Atem Kaiba programmed you to be. If you… really are him… you would call me as you used to.”

“Well, then… partner,” the AI said, as if testing the word out. Yugi was right: it was like a knife twisted into his chest. It hurt and yet… he liked hearing Atem’s voice say that word again. It had been so long since he’d heard it. “I’ll start my turn by activating my own Monster Reborn to special summon Dark Magician Girl! And now, she’ll attack Chocolate Magician Girl!”

Yugi knew exactly why he’d do that. Chocolate’s effect was only once per a turn and he couldn’t risk using her effect on Atem’s Dark Magician Girl. He could not bring her attack points up high enough to beat over Magician of Black Chaos MAX. “I discard Kiwi Magician Girl to activate her effect,” he announced. “When Kiwi is discarded, she lends her strength and the strength of all the Magician Girls in my graveyard to any Magician Girls on my side of the field! Chocolate Magician Girl now has 2800 attack and can destroy Dark Magician Girl!”

Atem laughed and Yugi remembered how rare that sound truly was. When would Kaiba have heard it? Was it just an imagining of how it would sound or was the AI responding to his thoughts, the way the Duel Links system was designed to? He honestly couldn’t tell the difference between that laugh and the real Atem’s laugh. “I should have expected you to have a plan to protect your monsters,” Atem said. “In that case, Magician of Black Chaos MAX will destroy your set monster and that will end my turn. Make your move… partner.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have told the AI how Atem actually addressed him. He hated that it was capable of learning and seemed to respond to the exact thoughts and desires Yugi had long buried. Hated that it became more lifelike over the course of this duel. Yugi wished that it wasn’t so damn similar to the real thing.

“I start my turn by activating the magic card Pot of Greed! This allows me to draw two cards from my deck,” he said, replacing the spell card with Silent Magician LVL 4 and Level Up. Now that was exactly what he needed. “I summon the field Silent Magician LVL 4 and follow that up by activating Level Up! This turns Silent Magician LVL 4 into her LVL 8 form! And now she attacks Magician of Black Chaos MAX!” Atem’s life points went down to 4200 and Yugi knew now that it was basically over. “Are you ready?”

“You can’t win this turn,” Atem countered. “Chocolate Magician Girl doesn’t have enough attack points to end the duel. You have no choice but to attack with her and end your turn.”

Yugi’s mouth twitched, almost in a smile. “Are you sure about that,” he countered, unable to help himself. It was something Atem always got to say and well, it turns out he had a point. It was fun to say. “I activate my trap, Final Gaes! Final Gaes only activates when a level 7 or higher monster is destroyed! It banishes all monsters in both our graveyards and summons the highest level spellcaster in those banished monsters. I summon Magician of Black Chaos MAX! It’s over! Chocolate Magician Girl and Magician of Black Chaos MAX attacks!”

Atem’s eyes closed and Yugi felt his heart twitch. “Congratulations,” he said, simply. “You win.”

Much like the last duel he had with Atem, this victory left a hollow feeling in Yugi’s chest. The reminder that this version of Atem wasn’t real was weighing on his heart as the AI vanished right before him. The real Atem was gone. The program dissolved around Yugi and the way out was revealed to him. And yet… Yugi almost wished he could live in this simulation. He couldn’t, though. Yugi left the room, intent on never looking back.

The minute Yugi got back into his office, he leaned back in his chair. There was only one person he’d known to have tried to bring back the dead. He’d seen what grief could do to a person. And when it came to Kaibas, he knew that Seto absolutely could do some damage in his grief. He’d seen how Mokuba handled things when Kaiba decided that he needed to venture out into the afterlife to see Atem again. It was why he picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number. “Yugi boy,” came Pegasus’s voice from the phone. “You’re calling earlier than usual.”

“Ah, suppose you’re right,” Yugi said, noting that it was indeed a day earlier than he usually calls Pegasus. “Sorry, I don’t have wine with me. You’re drinking on your own.”

“That’s just rude of you,” Pegasus remarked and Yugi laughed, the unspoken rib in the air. “I suppose there’s a reason for this call, then?”

Yugi thought about the duel with the hologram version of his long dead boyfriend. The loving recreation of each detail down to the exact way he’d worn his hair was hard to miss. In a way, it was a ‘nice’ reminder that no matter how much time passed, he’d always be the second choice after Atem. Yugi had long accepted that Atem’s shadow hung over him. As much as he’d loved Atem, it had been quite a surprise to realize that everyone else loved Atem too. “ We’ve talked about how it felt when you lost Cyndia but,” Yugi paused, trying to figure out the best jumping off point for this. “I think… I think Kaiba could benefit from a similar talk. He’s trying to do what you did with her.”

For a moment, Pegasus did not speak. Yugi had assumed it was because Pegasus would tell him that Seto did not like him but instead… “How is Kaiba-boy stealing souls? I thought those shadow powers were lost when Atem passed on.”

“The hologram thing,” Yugi clarified. “He’s made a life-like version of Atem out of a hologram.”

“Oh! Well, you know, you simply must be more specific, Yugi-boy,” Pegasus chided as if they had simply been discussing dinner plans. Yugi never understood how Pegasus could be so casual about this. “Do you know when he made this hologram?”

“No,” Yugi admitted. The construction on the AI was almost seamless and suggested that months of research and coding went into it. Yugi had to assume this meant that it must have been completed before Kaiba left. Even Seto couldn’t have made something as perfect as that hologram was in only a few days. “I think it might’ve been made four years ago but that’s just an estimation based on how the AI works.”

“I see,” Pegasus cooed. “Kaiba-boy had a thing for the Pharaoh, did he?”

Yugi hadn’t thought of it like that but he supposed it must’ve been the case. It would explain some of the weirder interactions that Atem had with Kaiba when Atem was still alive. “I suppose,” Yugi said with a shrug. “Are you going to talk to him or not?”

“I’ll find the time.” Before Pegasus could say another word, Yugi hung up.

#rivalshipping #rivalshipping fanfic #rivalshipping fanfiction #dm rivalshipping #yugi x seto #myfanfic #fic: you'd come back to me

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years

Text

To be Evil II: The Infinity Stone

Summary: You meet with someone who makes you remember something you had forgotten and join his side when he promises the one thing you want; recognition.

Warnings: takes place during Infinity Wars basically (just rewritten), angst, strong language, magical elements, hero to villain

Word Count: 1,974

To be Evil Masterlist II Marvel Masterlist

You’ve had this dream ever since you can remember. The same dream, almost every night. You dream of 6 stones and somehow, you know that they have different powers. If you could list their names and what they do, you’d do it in a heartbeat. Yet, you don’t know how you know that.

Tonight, the dream is different. There is another person. A giant, purple-skinned man that reaches for one of the stones, turns his head to you and smiles as he places the stone in a slot on a gauntlet he wears. You don’t know who he is, and you’d rather not find out.

Not wishing to see anyone of the team after what happened yesterday, you quickly sneak out of the compound and saunter around the city. As you walk, lost in your own thoughts, you try and think of what you should do next. Do you carry on fighting for a place in the team that seems to be dwindling away from you? Or do you make your own path?

Tony thinks you’re dangerous, that you don’t have control over your powers. If that is the case, then you’re not sure if you’ll ever be welcome on the team. And you’ll be damned if you’re just an object to be used when they need someone like you.

It’s best if you make your own path.

You spot something out the corner of your eyes when you get to the park. It’s empty, not a single person in sight. Expect for the two figures walking towards you. They don’t look like inhabitants of Earth; aliens. Something tells you that they’re up to no good. So, you place your hands behind you to hide their glow as you ready yourself for an attack. Maybe this will make Tony Stark see your potential.

One of these aliens is a woman, equipped with a three-pronged spear. She has pale skin, but the upper half of her face seems painted dark, like a mask. Beside her is someone who you think is male. You can’t quite tell, but you know that if Tony had to come across him, he’d probably make some kind of reference about his appearance, and it would most likely be something like ‘Squidward’ or something like that.

“There will be no need for violence,” the male says, raising a hand and your arm moves out from behind your back against your will and the glow disappears from around your hand. “My name is Ebony Maw and this is my sister, Proxima Midnight-”

“I don’t really care,” you snap, pulling your arm out of his mental hold. He has powers of telekinesis, that you can sense. But so do you. And with your curses, you’re sure that he will be no match against you. “It’s clear that you’re not from this planet, so I suggest you leave,” you mention, dropping your hands to your sides, this time not afraid to show them glowing again.

The woman moves forward, her grip on her spear tightening as she glares at you. “We have come here on orders. We will not fail,” she says, pointing the spear at you as you narrow your eyes at her.

“It will be best if you come with us,” Ebony Maw speaks, making your head turn to him again. “He is very eager to meet you and will be waiting,” he adds.

Before you can even say anything, refuse or even ask who ‘he’ is, a light descends from the sky and encircles you and the pair in front of you. It’s like an alien abduction, and you’re helpless against it, mesmerized by the bright, celestial light that lifts you off the ground for a second before you shoot up into the atmosphere.

When your feet hit the ground again, you gasp and stumble a bit. Whatever just happened has made a sick feeling hit your stomach and you don’t have to second guess that you hate this kind of transportation.

Noticing your surroundings are like nothing you’ve ever seen, the inside of a ship and surrounded by other aliens, your head snaps up and glance around you. You’re the one that definitely stands out like a sore thumb being the only human in the room.

When you hear footsteps behind you, heavy footsteps, you slowly turn your head over your shoulder as you turn around. Your mouth drops slightly when you see the man in your dream.

He is as gigantic as in your dreams and is kind of intimidating, especially in the armor he wears. “I have been waiting to meet you for a long time, (Y/n),” he says, walking towards you and towering over you.

“You know my name. How?” you question, shifting on your feet as you muster up as much confidence as you can. You don’t want to seem pathetic in front of all these capable-looking aliens around you.

The Titan chuckles as he holds up his hand to show the gauntlet you saw in your dream. And the stone in one of the slots. “I know because this told me,” he states, glancing at the stone as you take a step forward. “You know what this is,” he says, seeing a look of familiarity on your face.

You nod your head. “I have seen it in my dreams. This and 5 others. The Infinity Stones,” you whisper, something inside you urging you to try and reach out to touch the purple stone in the golden gauntlet. “This is the Power Stone.”

The others in the room mutter among themselves, and you know from a voice in the back of your mind that they’re wondering how you, a human, know so much. “There are others,” the Titan in front of you says, making your eyes lift up to him again. “One of them, the Mind Stone, is the source of your powers,” he explains.

A breath catches in your throat as you pull away, shaking your head in shock as you glance down to your hands. “I was born with them-”

“You weren’t born. You were created,” he cuts you off, your heart sinking as you close your eyes. “What you are now, is not what you were born as. Your power was given to you,” he says, walking around you as he curls his hand into a fist, the Power Stone gleaming as he stares at the base of your head, just where your neck starts. “Don’t you remember?”

As he speaks, he pushes the Stone against the spot he has his eye one, making you gasp loudly as a power surge washes over your entire body, making you fall to the ground and a memory you didn’t know you had to flash across your mind.

It’s like you have no body, but you’re there, in a room full of scientists. From the symbol on the wall of a red skull and tentacles, you know this is HYDRA. There’s a bright flash after someone shouting that something big is happening and suddenly, you have a body.

It’s the reason you don’t have any memories of your childhood. The reason that the oldest memory you have is of Tony finding you, a preteen with incredible power, on the streets. Because you weren’t born. You burst into life after HYDRA started experimenting on the Scepter that held the Mind Stone encased in a blue gem. Why? You don’t know.

“You are part of the Mind Stone, an embodiment of it,” the Titan speaks as you push yourself onto your hands and knees. “You have great power that no one understands. No one but me,” he says, kneeling down in front of you as you lift your head up to him. “I know you wish to be noticed, to be seen and recognized by those you’ve spent so long trying to impress. I can make those dreams come true.”

You swallow harshly, glance down to the ground as you breathe out a long, deep sigh. It’s what you’ve wanted since Tony suggested you becoming a member of the team after you finish school and all that. You just want to be noticed and appreciated. You want your efforts to be rewarded.

Glancing up to the Power Stone in the gauntlet and staring at it for a moment, you feel somewhat connected to it. You think about his words, how all that you want can be given to you. “What do you want me to do?” you ask, lifting your head up to look at the giant man in front of you and he smiles down at you.

Tony knows that perhaps he should apologize to you for what he had said to you. But there are other things to do. With the threat that will show up any moment, he’d rather work on saving humanity than apologizing for something he’s sure you should know he didn’t mean.

The only reason he agreed to work with Loki was that he knows what they’re up against. And after the first meeting, when you walked out and Loki managed to undo your curse of his sealed mouth, Tony realizes that what they’re going to face is bigger than what he thought.

“So, you’re saying that this guy, Thanos, is looking for rocks?” Tony asks Loki after he had briefly explained what’s going on.

“Infinity Stone,” Loki corrects, leaning back in his seat as he folds his arms over his chest. “He might have one of them already, but he can’t have all of them,” he mentions, smiling proudly to himself as he looks between the team.

Bucky isn’t listening that much, his mind on you and whether or not you’re alright. He hasn’t seen you today and you seemed really upset last night. He had talked to you many times when you were upset, let you ramble and you allowed him to comfort you. But last night, you pushed him away.

Steve shifts in his seat, still not sure if they should be enlisting the help of the God of Mischief. “What makes you say that?” he questions, making Loki turn his head to him. “Why can’t Thanos have all of these Infinity Stones?”

“Because only I know where the Space Stone is and I will not give it up to him,” Loki explains, glancing over to Thor and smirks at him even though his brother frowns at him. “Without all the Stones, he cannot carry out his plan to wipe out half the universe,” he explains, unaware that those who need to know that fact are listening.

You have your back pressed against the wall, hiding from the team and smiling to yourself. Being given a mission, and order, you intend to see it all through so that you can get the recognition you deserve.

You were told to find the Space Stone and you will not disappoint your new superior.

Knowing that Loki has it, you make your way to the room he’s been given. He must have hidden the Stone somewhere there. You were told by your new leader that it’s in a cube called the Tesseract. He says that you will be able to find it, but you have to let go of trying to control your powers. You have to give in to them.

And as you walk through the hallways towards the room, you think about his words and let your powers grow, making them glow yellow. There’s a smile on your face because, for some reason, it feels good to go against the team that has been looking down on you for years.

It feels good showing them what you are capable of doing, showing them how powerful you can really be, and making them regret refusing to make you part of the team.

It feels good to be evil.

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artsy0wl · 3 years

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Maul: A Broken Evil Retrospective

On a Star Wars Amino I’m in, I had made an introspective on why I feel that Maul, while he is a villain is not whole heartedly evil, but broken. I took from said Amino post, with a few needed edit tweaks.

Chaotic Evil

Of course given the fact he was a Sith and some of the decisions he’s made, I don’t completely want to negate that in this discussion. If we were to use the alignment chart (lawful good, true neutral, chaotic evil, etc), he would probably fit best in Neutral Evil. From my understanding, Maul would fit Neutral Evil as a lot if what he does has to do with benefiting himself. Even if that means using allies (i.e. Ezra initially) and potentially betraying them (i.e. blinding Kanan once the Inquisitors were dealt with). He’ll follow things as he needs and can be calculating when he needs (like his take over of Mandalore). He’s not spontaneous enough or lacks enough restraint to be Chaotic Evil (like the Joker for instance), nor is he as calculating and “lawful” to be Lawful Evil (like say Thrawn and/or Palpatine). With that said, I’d agree that Maul has a darkness/evil in him considering all of the things he’s done. Obviously, he’s not winning any hero points by killing people like Qui Gon and Satine or blinding and attempting to kill Kanan.

Onto why I feel he’s broken.

Palpatine: Taken From a Young Age and Molded into what Sidious Wanted

Whether it be Talzin offering Maul as a child in Canon or his mother giving Palpatine Maul as a baby in Legends (Darth Plagueis), Maul was caught in a situation that he really didn’t have much control over. Granted, his life may not have been much better on Dathomir, given how the Nightsisters used their male counterparts, but there’s no telling what kind of life he could have had, had he not been handed over to Palpatine. Maul was molded into a weapon as Darth Sidious’ apprentice. And Maul spent most of his younger years being molded into what Sidious wants. Only to be “cast aside” when he is presumed dead. With Sidious being his only form of human contact/interaction, it’s fair to say that Maul feels a level of rejection/abandonment by the only person he had a bond with.

However, rather than having a level of depression because of it, he’s angry about it. For him that seems to be a common response, along with hatred and arrogance (the latter of which was used to explain how he survived the Phantom Menace). Sidious created a weapon out of Maul. And with that, a character with no real coping mechanism or knowing how to let things go.

A lot of, if not all of, Maul’s issues can be linked back to Sidious in some way. Sidious isn’t exactly Mentor of the Year material. Especially with Maul. Though that could be chopped up to him being a Sith and very manipulative. He wasn’t the kindest person to the Zabrak pre or post Phantom Menace (both in canon and Legends). Either way, a lot of Maul’s issues are a direct result of Palpatine’s involvement in his life.

If it weren’t for Sidious, Maul would have a normal life (or whatever that would equate to on Dathomir). He would have had his family, would have been more level headed and maybe less cocky, and he wouldn’t have enraged abandonment issues. The amount of grief, trauma, and hatred would be vastly different

Family: He Lost a Brother and a Mother

Let’s be real, thanks to Sidious, Maul’s lost a brother and a mother (two brothers when you count Feral, though he never got to meet him). By the time Savage came around in Clone Wars, we got to see Maul sort of build his character more than say the Phantom Menace (the novels did too, but I can’t say that everyone’s read them). We also get to see Maul exhibit more emotion where, again, the movie lacks as well as the introduction of his family, Mother Talzin, Feral, and Savage. And while Maul may not have been what you’d call an “affectionate” brother, he does care for Savage to the best of his ability.

Their deaths still haunted him years after the events of the Prequel Trilogy and Clone Wars. These deaths stuck with him psychologically to the point that he is still effected by it in Rebels. Which in turn, may have contributed some to him wanting Ezra as an apprentice (among other factors).

Torture After Loss

In Son of Dathomir after Maul tries to get back at Sidious, he is captured after his last battle with Sidious in Clone Wars (season 5). It starts off with Maul being interrogated and tortured by Sidious. He makes it through without faltering and escapes with the help of the Shadow Collective. That being said, we never really get to see where his mindset is. During Son of Dathomir, he gets a lot done, capturing Dooku and Grievous (taunting Sidious and working with Dooku to fight Obi Wan and a few other Jedi before escaping). However, we don’t get to see the mental toll Savage’s death here. Though with everything going on, I guess there wasn’t time.

Now the reason I bring this up, is because part of me felt like I should and the timing. Prior to Son of Dathomir, Maul had recently lost Savage. At the end, he loses his mother. The torture and the scheming in between shows how he didn’t catch a break. And while he was able to stay strong when he had to, they never really explored how the torture effected him, which one would think he would have been.

Obsession, Insanity, Arrogance: Maul’s Faults

I do feel like I address this point. I’ve already kind of touched on his anger and arrogance (synonymously with cockiness). While training Maul, Sidious didn’t consider how arrogant he had let the Zabrak become (according to Darth Plagueis, the novel). This has Maul’s Achilles Heel since the Phantom Menace. While having a healthy dose of pride never hurt anyone, a healthy dose, Maul dose not possess.

His obsession with getting Obi Wan and Sidious is another issue. This really only pops up after his apparent death in Phantom Menace. Because after that point, Maul finds out that he was replaced by Sidious (with Dooku) and that he was bested by a mere Padawan (Obi Wan). I feel like this obsessive tendency is a combination of his feelings of abandonment and having his ego damaged.

And of course, I feel like Maul’s roughly decade long battle with insanity really didn’t help his psyche. While his sanity was restored thanks to Mother Talzin and Savage, I do feel like that’s caused more harm than good. Something like that had to feel draining after getting his sanity restored. He was sitting on a trash planet and on his own. Along with not having anything from the waist down and forced to manage with what he had. Hatred may have helped keep him alive, but his psyche during those ten years didn’t.

He has a lot of internal conflict in an emotional and mental sense. Unfortunately, these negative emotions, obsession and pride especially, cause him more harm than good.

The Ezra Bond: Feeling a Need to Replicate a Connection, Even if He Approaches it Incorrectly

By the time Rebels rolls around, Maul is older and calmer (though still proud). Obviously, he still wants to get back at the Empire for what they (more specifically Sidious) did to him. And at first, Ezra seemed like someone that he could use. This is an element that is prevalent, however, not the only aspect of their relationship.

According to Sam Witwer, Maul’s VA, Maul did have a (platonic) fondness for Ezra. And on top of wanting to make Ezra his apprentice, Maul wanted to emulate a sense of brotherhood between him and Ezra. For example, his phrase in Visions and Voices when Maul says “...We can walk that path together. As friends. As brothers.” How he said it shows how he does miss Savage and wants that family back.

That being said, how he approached this connection could be seen as manipulative and more than likely one sided. Sure, over the course of Twilight of the Apprentice, Ezra grows on Maul, to the point where Maul wants to make him his apprentice and has an appreciation for Ezra. However, his pride and lack of planning cause a rift between them and there was a lot of mistrust on Ezra’s part, not that one could blame him.

Subsequent episodes show that Maul is hellbent on making Ezra his apprentice through any means possible.

Maul lost Savage and Talzin, and Ezra was one of the first few people to trust him in years. I think it’s safe to say that, in Maul’s mind, Ezra gave him a sense of belonging or connection.

Maul’s need for a connection could be interpreted as him trying to find something good in life. However, manipulative tendencies and how he was brought up, hinder him doing that in a healthy and positive way. With Savage, he didn’t need to do anything as they both had a similar plan when they met (Savage being indoctrinated into the ways of the Sith). But subsequent relationships (i.e. Ezra), Maul is at a bit of a disadvantage emotionally and morally.

Sure, he could relate to Ezra since they both lost people they care for because of the Empire (and by extent Sidious), but manipulation and harming Ezra’s allies hinder a smoother connection. Even if a force bond was eventually made. Ezra, arguably, could have been what he needed for what he wanted and a possible change/redemption/blank slate only for things not to entirely go as plan.

Could Maul Have Something Along the Lines of PTSD?

Now, I could do a mini theory about this as I’ve speculated that with another character before. It’d be an interesting way to look at Maul’s psychology. It’s one last little avenue I thought I’d address before closing this post out. Of course, it’s worth noting that I am not a Psychology major (as interesting as psychology is). I have, however, done some research.

I do believe that Maul, to some degree, may have PTSD. But instead of exhibiting panic/anxiety, depression or easily startled, Maul has more aggressive tendencies and is easy to anger. He still lives with the trauma of the death of his brother (and mother) and flashbacks of that and other events in his life, I’m sure he’d be effected by.

Conclusion

In conclusion, while I certainly think that Maul is no hero, his life experiences certainly effected what kind of person he became. Being raised as a weapon, abandoned, and tortured would bring any normal person way down. And because that was all Maul knew, I don’t think that entirely means he’s evil. Rather, he’s a character who’s been used and abused to the point that he’s mentally and psychologically broken. Unfortunately, that effects his life in ways that make him arrogant, hateful and obsessive. And when he tries to build bonds later in life, he doesn’t know how to in a way that, while laced in trauma, has manipulative and one sided undertones.

That being said, I feel like I should round out this introspective with a little positive. While he’s definitely been through a lot, Maul is pretty resilient all things considered. He’s cheated death and managed to live through a lot of abuse. The fact that he could keep bouncing back shows just hoe resilient and determined the character is.

#Darth Maul #Star Wars #Rebels #Clone Wars #Movies #Retrospective #Theory #Speculation #Discussion #PTSD?#Chaotic Evil #Maul #Star Wars Rebels #Star Wars Clone Wars #Zabrak #Prequel Trilogy

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

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YANDERE ! BAKUGO KATSUKI x FEM!READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: noncon/dubcon, yandere, drugging, kidnapping, abduction, stalking, abuse, anxiety, manipulation

PART TWO

SAFETY

Her head felt… fuzzy; as though stuffed full of cotton. Eyes felt more or less the same, they stung and her vision; spotted and blurry. The room was bright, too bright, lit with light so white it became blue. A crisp smell scented the air, as if made up of bleach, and pricked the inside-walls of her nose. She hadn’t gotten completely used to her new apartment yet, but it wasn’t hard to tell… that this wasn’t the same room she had fallen asleep in.

There was a figure to her side, dark in contrast with the otherwise white room. She didn’t make him out completely at first, but could tell it was definitely a person. She would have been more afraid, but the process was one that she’d grown used to. This city was dangerous, she’d come to understand fairly quickly, just as quickly as she’d become familiar with the high-ranking hero. As if the hair weren’t a good enough characteristic, the stark, crimson eyes were enough of a reminder.

“Zero?” She spoke softly, his heart melting even more than it already had by watching her sleep. It disgusted him, he didn't want his heart to melt, he wanted it to explode. He longed for the feeling. It only pounded that way when she looked at him with terror-wide eyes or screamed blood-curdling screams, when he felt her quake against him. He’d grown desperate to say the least.

It was an educated guess, something about the size of him, something about the atmosphere, something about the smell of burnt sugar that always accompanied him. As it had done a month ago. The hero had saved her from villains who wanted her because she in some way posed a perfect host for receiving quirks. She found it strange at the time, being quirkless and all, but she figured that filling an empty glass is easier than a glass half full or brimming. She’d undergone numerous other attacks since. She found it strange how so much drama could befall her in the space of a month, and how quickly the same hero was to respond, especially to the smaller petty crimes she’d found herself caught up in. And here she was again, saved.

“Some people aren’t meant to take care of themselves.” She must have heard him wrong, or at least his tone. It must have been a joke if anything. The words weren't really meant for her anyway. Not that he felt the need to make excuses for himself. He did what he wanted, she just happened to be one of those things. It was her own fault if anything.

“Did you save me again?” She tried laughing at it, tried masking her own sense of failure. It wasn’t as though she weren’t grateful, but she didn’t exactly enjoy being saved, especially when it became a daily occurrence. Perhaps it was this city, she hadn’t been drawn to crime before, it must be the city, what else if not?

“Yes.” It was an abrupt answer, reminded her of a command more than anything. The growl in the back of his throat always evident, however it didn’t alarm her quite yet, she’d gotten rather used to it actually.

She rubbed her temples. More to suppress the headache than to calm her stinging eyes. “Where are we?” She didn’t recognize the facility. It seemed clean, very clean, yet still held certain artifacts and decoration, more so than any normal rescue lounge, personal even.

“Our apartment.” Again, the answer spoken like such a statement. However, she wasn’t paying attention that much anymore and hadn’t quite grasped the entirety of his words. She was far too preoccupied with the realization that she was currently lying in a bed, despite not yet feeling anything more than her throbbing head and discomforted eyes. She wore the same clothes she’d gone to bed in, a t-shirt that didn't even reach to her bellybutton and a pair of repurposed boxers she’d taken from her brother long ago. However, the state of her half-naked self didn't raise any alarm yet, as she did not yet realize the plush cuff linked around her ankle either.

Her brows furrowed when his words settled a bit more, but didn’t think too much off it, given that it hurt her head and each thought was a more than straining process to fall through on. However, wanting to rise into a more dignified position, she made to sit upright, but felt the movement never fulfill. She thought first it had to be her, maybe she was still too tired, but then realized the large hand currently resting firmly in the space between her lungs. The realization would go about unknown for a longer time if it weren’t for the simmering heat that soon spread all the way through her blood into the very tips of her toes. She gave him a confused look, only know seeing the different shape of his eyes. They weren’t mere slits as they usually presented themselves, but were rounder, less red, more black, and glazed with something she couldn’t quite seem to recognize.

He gave an explanation despite the building fear that only now started to fester alongside her headache. He wasn’t dim, he easily spotted her discomfort, but perhaps he wanted to see how long they were going to dance before one of them slipped. “You shouldn’t stand, it’s still unsafe to walk.”

He wasn’t wrong. She didn’t feel that walking was in her element, however she was sure she could manage, and going so far as to call it unsafe, as if she were some newborn gazelle, was taking it a bit far. She understood he probably knew more about it than her but… she needed to calm down. He saved her, she should be thanking him not preparing to bite his head off. Her anger was probably also due to the fact that she has needed him to come save her more than several times now. The frustration was with herself and her own lack of ability more than with him. She decided to smile instead, show gratitude instead of bitterness. It wasn’t his fault she was quirkless, however… he needn’t act as though she were helpless. Though… again, that might have been her fault as well, she hadn’t exactly displayed any sort of strength in her time with him. She guessed now would be as a good a start as any.

“I feel fine, really.” She insisted, still smiling. But she felt still that her tone might have been too stiff. The last thing she wanted was to take her anger out on the hero, what kind of person would she be then? “Thank you.” She added, quickly realizing she forget to mention it. “I’m really grateful that you’d go out of your way to save me yet again.” She really was, but she couldn’t get over her incapability. It was embarrassing to say the least, especially in front of the hero. “But… I think it’s best I just go home and sleep it off.” Be polite, be humble, bury your pride, she kept telling herself. Too caught up in her own ways of expressing her emotions that she didn’t even notice the malcontent on his face. She wouldn’t dare stare at him, therefore not seeing how intent he was on staring at her. Her headache too must have been a factor, or else the hand on her chest would raise more caution than she was currently in possession of, especially when he added more pressure each time she made to get up.

“I insist.”

The answer came a long time after, or perhaps it just felt that way. Her headache kept disrupting her focus. So much she hadn’t even gotten to the part of questioning why he was sitting on the same bed she was lying in, how long he’d been sitting there and even why she was there of all other places to go.

“What exactly happened?” The question lingered in her mind; why was she there? “I can’t remember being attacked. Actually… I can’t remember anything except for going to bed yesterday.” There was probably a reasonable explanation. She knew she was probably just being paranoid, he was one of the highest-ranking heroes after all, but she didn’t see the harm in being a tad bit suspicious, she couldn’t see how he would take offence of her prying, it was more than justifiable behavior, and it wasn’t very professional of him to bring her to his apartment in the first place if anyone was keeping score. Nonetheless, she did feel rude for her insinuating tone, it was uncalled for and unwarranted and disrespectful.

“You knocked your head.” He answered, quickly killing off her guilt, but it wasn’t a satisfying answer, alike most of his answers, and the pain in her head certainly didn’t feel like any blunt force trauma, it felt more anesthetic than that, more purposeful, intent on making her drowsy.

“Well…” She decided it wasn’t really her expertise anyway, who was she to question his diagnosis? He probably met with this every day. “My head feels fine, truly… Ground Zero.” It was a white lie, she figured. All she wanted was to go home at this point. The oddity of the situation more evident now that she had regained more consciousness, and his less-than answers didn’t help ease her nerves. “I should probably head home. Free you of wasting any more time on me.” She tried her best not to be rude, he had saved her life so many times now, it would seem. And although she had more questions regarding the latest rescue, she was more eager to get out of there than anything. The sickly-sweet scent of the hero almost more overwhelming than her headache.

“You can’t.” His calm voice gave yet another short answer. His hand pressed down on her chest again when she made to push herself up a second time.

“You seem to know an awful lot about what I can and can’t do, Ground Zero.” This time she couldn’t help it; the sneer in her voice. She nearly spit his name as if it left a bad taste in her mouth, when really it was the failure of trying to live by herself that made her bitter. Nasty tones weren’t something she usually felt the need to resort to, but she felt as though perhaps her discomfort wasn’t apparent enough to the hero, all she wanted was to go home. However, he didn’t seem all that affected by it, and if he were, he certainly didn’t show it. He did answer however.

“It’s Bakugo Katsuki.” Something else accompanied his voice this time, and the growl in his throat turned grimmer. And as though she had only now heard it for the first time, her ears drew back.

“Ok… Bakugo… I’d like to go home now, please.” Staring into his eyes became like facing her own growing helplessness, the onset of something akin to terror. Those blood-red orbs seemed so much smarter, so much quicker and stronger somehow.

“You are home.” She jolted at the words, them sounding like a threat meant to keep her in place; a correction. And she did, remain in place, only for a couple seconds though, until she pushed his hand away, exercising the element of surprise, knowing how it would take every ounce of energy she had to do so. Though, it didn’t seem as if he had tried to prevent it.

She’d leaped towards the door, hoping it wasn’t locked, even though the idea seemed fairly slim, given that luck had decided to abandon her fully for today. But, she never even made it to the door, no… she met the floor instead, feeling something tugging her down, a soft yet heavy weight around her ankle. She thought it might have been his hand, but looking back she noticed the metal leash trailing all the way back to the bedpost.

There was a cackle that sprung through the room, haughty laughter. “I was gonna put it around your throat.” She looked up at him, meeting with a totally different person. A widespread grin displayed on his face. “But, I don’t think we would have played for so long if I had.” He towered over her frame, casting eerie shadows down at the ground, which somehow made her feel cold. The same shadows dancing over his face, in his eyes. She tried scooting back, but the leash wouldn’t allow it. He chuckled again, every sound more dreary and life-draining than the next, as large hands descended to pick her up into large arms.

“Let go!” She screamed now, and kicked, letting tears spill in mere seconds.

He hummed in response to her outburst, a chuckle that sounded dreadfully similar to a moan, and her ears started to burn at the sound. “Have I already earned your screams?” It became hard to breathe, his tone making it clear that this was merely the beginning, as his arms felt as though they could break her spine if they wished, or by accident if he weren’t careful. “You’re just so eager to please, aren’t yah?” She whimpered at his words, causing him to yet again send another hungry-hearted groan to shatter her ribcage and claw at her heart. She didn’t want to let the fear encompass her entirely and kept struggling to escape his hold, only to be met with the soft bed again, a mattress that seemed to want to swallow her and sheets intent on suffocating her. “You’re tired.” It was more than condescending, so much worse. “And now you’ve hurt yourself.” She was used to being mocked for her helplessness, for her lack of a quirk, but never were the insults adorned with this type of disgusting affection. She hated it, she loathed, so much she felt herself choke.

“Get off me!” She tried to make it sound more intimidating than a whine, but she was afraid she had failed miserably. The hand placed on her ribcage was back, hindering her form getting up. He stroked a fresh scrape on her knee, eyes so wide and so black and so crazed with frenzy. It stung, but she had greater problems at hand. She kicked and flailed, all to his amusement. He snickered at her attempts, her hands trying to push his hand off her chest, to no avail. Still trying to kick even though one leg was firmly caught with his other fist, the nail of his thumb digging, burying itself into the back of her knee.

“Like I said earlier…” He replaced the hand on her chest with his weight instead, moving to hold her throat in a soft grip, but she could feel the wanton pressure in his fingertips in spite of it, heat radiating off him in waves, or perhaps it was his breath. “Some people aren’t meant to take care of themselves.” Her other leg still flailing freely, until he decided to quell it’s conquest by placing his knee onto the inside of her thigh. He couldn’t help but let a content smile fall over his face as she yelled out in pain, her moves becoming more frantic, more desperate, until she again felt the, up until now wavering, headache begin to dull her senses again. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped fighting until she felt his wet, hot tongue sliding up her neck as a slow, burning threat before his teeth sunk skin deep into her flesh.

She kept struggling, but it didn’t take long before he had her entire position secured beneath him, and by that time she was so drowsy that not even the feeling of his teeth scraping against her throat was enough to wake her.

All he wanted was to hear those sounds she made, those earth-shattering, beautiful sounds, and he would give his all to coax them out of her. One has to give him props for trying not to break her beyond compare, but he would never lay any empty promises, not even if just to console her afterwards. He didn’t like liars, he had morals, he was a hero after all, but he was also human, and some things are just too bewitching to resist. It was her fault more than his, her fault for catching his attention.

PART TWO

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marvelyningreen · 3 years

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Aftershocks - Night 2

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | (deleted scene)

[Summary: Peter Maximoff is an unflappable sorta guy. He’d never let anything get to him before, and this recent misadventure will be no different. ...Right?

Warnings: mild language, alcohol use, references to injury & false imprisonment, general trauma-related angst

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the established relationship variety. A ‘what if Fietro really was Peter?’ scenario. Same continuity/reader character from Linger and Late-bloomer. ]

On the second night, Kurt and Jubilee organize a party. It’s sort of a ‘welcome back’ for Peter, and a ‘welcome in general’ for Wanda and the twins.

It’s awfully sweet of them. And you’re impressed that they’ve managed to order in enough food for everyone on such short notice.

Peter had been busy for most of the day. He’d volunteered to help the professor and continue playing tour guide for Wanda and the kids. You’d offered to help, too, but Peter insisted that you should take it easy. He’s probably right, much as you’d hated to admit it. There’s no way you could’ve kept up with him and two energetic kids.

And that’s how you ended up spending the most of the morning in the lab with Hank.

In true Hank fashion, he had tons of questions, and you did your best to answer them. There are still quite a few things you don’t fully understand yourself.

The revelation that other realities exist is wild to begin with. A world where mutants don’t exist but magic does sounds like a work of fiction. And then there’s the fact that Wanda’s from someplace called ‘Sokovia?’ As far as you and Hank could figure, that country has never existed in your world.

Hank’s scientific curiosity was focused on trying to wrap his head around how Wanda’s powers worked, and how they could’ve caused Captain Rambeau to spontaneously develop powers of her own. You weren’t able to be much help there, but once Hank gets himself hypothesizing, he could talk for hours with no input from anyone else.

Eventually, you brought up your concerns about Peter and his odd lapses in memory. Hank’s brows furrowed pensively as he listened.

“Well, I can tell you there’s nothing physically wrong with Peter,” he said. “I could ask him to let me examine him again, but if the issue isn’t a physical one, that might just make things worse. If you’re really worried about him, my advice is to talk to Charles.”

You sighed. “And he’s busy showing Wanda around.”

Which was exactly where Peter would be, so no chance to talk to the professor without him noticing. Hank stood up, patting your shoulder.

“Listen, I know I’m not great company when I’m focused on work,” he said, “But you’re welcome to stay here while you wait.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

You’d actually spent a lot of time down in the lab since your reality warping abilities had fully manifested. Hank was fascinated by getting to witness them in person, and the fact that you’d used them to save his life probably had something to do with it.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching out your injured leg a little. It didn’t take Hank long to get so immersed in his work that he started thinking aloud to himself, trying to work out some complicated chemical reaction.

Your thoughts drifted back to Peter. He’d seemed distracted that morning, almost distant. You tried to think what caused it – if something had happened, or even if there was something you’d said…? But you couldn’t think of anything.

Maybe it’d had something to do with his dream. But no, he said he didn’t remember it. Maybe – and you were grasping at straws by this point – he was embarrassed that you’d seen it? That could be. Peter was a pretty open guy, and you hadn’t thought that machismo was one of his faults, but it’s a possibility.

Oh. Oh, damn it all – you’d done it again. You weren’t sure when your eyes had closed, or when you’d leaned your head back against the chair. Hank was still talking to himself-

Only no, he wasn’t. There was a second voice answering him now. Upon lifting your head, you noticed that Hank’s jacket was folded under it as a makeshift pillow. You blinked in the brightness of the lab, looking around to see where the conversation was coming from.

Hank and the professor broke off as they noticed you stirring. Hank smiled apologetically.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he explained. “You looked so tired. I figured you could use the rest.”

“Apparently I did. Sorry about that,” you said, sitting up straight in the chair again. “What time is it?”

“Just after noon,” said the professor. “We decided to break for lunch, so Peter’s showing them the kitchens. Now, Hank tells me that something’s troubling you.”

“It’s Peter, sir,” you said. You went over everything once more – the diminishing memories of Westview, the nightmare. “Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but… I don’t know. What if something that witch did is still affecting him?”

The professor had listened carefully while you spoke. You thought that he looked a little concerned, but you might’ve imagined it, because when you finished, he smiled.

“Thank you for coming to me with this,” he said, “But I have a feeling you’re not going to like my answer.”

You grimaced. “You’re going to tell me to wait and see, aren’t you.”

You’re well aware that this was the sort of thing the professor said when he was being evasive. He laughed.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said. “I will tell you that I truly believe Peter will be fine. If anything changes or worsens, don’t hesitate to bring it to my attention. But until that time, I’m leaving him in your care. I know I can rely on you.”

You gaze drifted to the floor, and you frowned slightly. Of course the professor could count on you to look after Peter. But how on earth were you supposed to help if you don’t know what’s going on?

If Peter had been physically hurt, that’s something you could fix. You were out of your depth here. Useless. Just like old times.

“None of that, if you please,” said the professor, in response to your thoughts. “Do you think I’d be leaving this in your hands if I didn’t think you were up to the task? Now, I’ve already told Peter that, as of today, he’s taking some mandatory time off, and the same goes for you. No missions for a while. You’re to get some rest and look after yourself. Understood?”

That surprised you. But before you could attempt to get anything more out of the professor, the door opened to admit Peter and the other Maximoffs. Peter’s face brightened as he caught sight of you.

“I figured you’d be down here,” he said. “And I also figured you probably didn’t eat lunch yet. Was I right? Yeah, I thought so. Which is why I brought lunch to you.”

“You know the rules,” Hank interrupted. “No food in the lab, Peter.”

Peter grinned, rolling his eyes, as he helped you to your feet.

“Alright, alright – we’re going,” he said.

Saying that you looked like you could use some daylight, Peter led you out of the lab to find somewhere to eat your lunch. He seemed cheerful and normal enough, and not, y’know, like he was avoiding you or something. You started to wonder if maybe you really were imagining things.

It was easy enough not to bring up the inconclusive conversation you’d had with the professor. The twins were bursting to tell somebody that there was going to be a party, and that it was gonna be their first party ever.

So far, it seems to be going well. The twins are already making friends among the younger students. Wanda still seems a little reserved – understandably – but the professor sticks close to her to make introductions and keep her company.

You’d like a chance to talk to her yourself, but maybe now isn’t the time. A party can be something of an overwhelming environment, especially now that you’ve been informed that you’re actually one of the guests of honor.

You probably should’ve seen this coming. You’re the one who took on a solo rescue mission, after all. Kurt sheepishly admits that they purposefully hadn’t told you that part because they figured you wouldn’t come if you knew. He is correct.

But Peter’s in his element as the life of the party – and he’s tipsy almost instantly. It’s one of the quirks of his mutant metabolism; alcohol hits him fast. Fortunately, drunk Peter is just an amped-up version of his usual cheerful and chaotic personality. You’re not much of a partier, yourself, so you’re content to enjoy his antics from the sidelines.

Which is what you’re doing when Jubilee sidles up to you.

“Okay, you have to tell me everything,” she says. “I mean, getting to go to another reality? What was it like?”

You laugh. “You’ve gotta be the fifth person to ask me that. Peter was there longer than I was.”

“But Peter doesn’t remember any of it,” she says, “And it’d be rude to ask Wanda a bunch of questions when we’ve only just met, so that leaves you. Now, spill.”

You satisfy Jubilee’s curiosity as best you can, but something she said strikes you as strange. Peter doesn’t remember anything about Westview? That doesn’t seem right.

When Captain Rambeau broke that mind control necklace, Peter didn’t seem confused or anything, just… Well, if you had to describe it, you’d say he looked horrified. And after he made sure that you were okay, the first thing he’d said was that the twins might still be in danger and that you all had to help them.

Then again, he’d let Wanda do all the explaining to the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr. And you’d gotten the rundown from that astrophysicist, Dr. Lewis, after she finished grumbling about being the exposition fairy, whatever that meant.

And Peter lives for being the center of attention. Overlooked and underappreciated for much of his life, a party like this is exactly the sort of validation he craves. If there was a chance for him to tell his story to a rapt audience, he’d jump at it.

So… maybe Peter really doesn’t remember anything. Maybe the whole thing is like a dream for him. The further away from it that he gets, the less clear the memory is.

When the party starts to wind down, the same can’t be said for Peter. Just as you’re trying to work out how on earth you’re going to corral him, Logan catches your eye.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get him,” he says.

You grin. “I thought you said that he’s my problem now.”

“He is. But that knee’s not gonna help you carry his ass upstairs.” Logan drains the last of his drink and calls across the room. “Alright, kid! Time to pack it in!”

Peter waves, takes an unsteady step towards you, and manages to run smack into Logan a split second later. Logan shoots you an exasperated look.

“What’d I tell you?” he says.

Logan manages to keep Peter upright as you head upstairs, but keeping him quiet is another thing entirely. Peter spends the entire walk explaining to Logan – in fumbling but earnest detail – all the ways in which you are the most amazing person he has ever met.

When Logan gets a word in edgewise, it’s to inform you that Peter’s been doing this all evening to anybody who would listen, and even to the people who wouldn’t. You’re honestly not sure if you feel more flattered or mortified.

At long last, you reach Peter’s door, and Logan props him up against the doorframe.

“Alright, he’s officially your problem again,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, old-timer!” Peter calls, waving off your attempts to shush him. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

He opens the door and nearly tumbles back into the room. He catches himself, clearing his throat as he straightens up.

“I meant to do that,” he says.

You shake your head, trying to bit back a grin. Once the door is closed behind you, you steer Peter towards the bed and sit him down. He takes hold of your hands.

“Listen. Listen. I have to tell you something.” He struggles to turn his bleary expression serious. “I love you, so much. You just… I love you, okay?”

Is it wrong that you find this slurred profession of love incredibly heartwarming? You smile at Peter, leaning down to kiss him.

“I know,” you say softly. “I love you, too. But you gotta get some sleep now, okay?”

Peter nods, frowning slightly for some reason.

“I know, I know,” he says.

He flops back onto the bed, mumbling something that might be lyrics to a song. And by the time you get his shoes off, he’s conked out completely.

After setting Peter’s shoes aside, you sit down on the sofa again. You know he’s fine. Sure, he’s drunk, but he’s not that drunk. But what if he needs something? Or what if he has another nightmare?

You know you shouldn’t dwell on everything, but once you start thinking about it, you find you can’t stop. You wonder what it was like for Peter, being dragged from this reality into another, having his personality forcibly rewritten.

If your experience had been unpleasant, how much worse must it have been for him?

The second you’d stepped into Westview, you were nearly overwhelmed. Some unknown power seemed to be forcing a name – not your own – onto you like a shackle around your neck. A thousand memories of a life you hadn’t lived flooded your mind. More alarming still, Peter was present in many of them. You had no idea if what you were seeing was the past, or the future, or something else entirely.

And underneath it all was a crushing, all-encompassing feeling of utter despair. It threatened to swallow you whole, and it seemed pointless to fight it.

And then – a calm, familiar presence in your mind. You remembered turning back, seeing the professor’s face as he watched you enter the portal. Suddenly, the onslaught lifted, and you were simply yourself again.

Also, you’d apparently collapsed at some point, because you were laying on the pavement with a tall blond stranger leaning over you.

He was the only person who seemed at all concerned that you’d just fainted in the middle of the street. He said his name was Vision. You introduced yourself as Ace. It was close enough to your codename that you’d remember it, and the professor had cautioned you against saying too much about where you’d come from.

But Vision seemed to recognize that there was something different about you, that you’d come from outside Westview. He was worried about his children, and his wife, and the rest of the citizens. You explained that you didn’t know what had happened to the town, and that you’d come looking for a missing friend.

You’d just agreed to try to help each other when reality seemed to bend around you, and suddenly you were sitting in a diner finishing a cup of coffee, and Vision was nowhere in sight.

The next time you saw him, the spell was ending, and he disappeared. You wish you could’ve gotten the chance to get to know him better. He seemed like a good man.

You try to put that from your mind. It’s just gonna make you sad again if you think about it for too long.

Instead, you glance over at Peter. He seems to be sleeping soundly, which is good.

But memories of Westview aren’t done with you yet.

You’ve had nightmares before about people you know acting in ways that were frighteningly unlike them. And even knowing it was all just a dream, you always felt a little uneasy the next time you’d see them. It’s the same way you feel watching Peter now.

That’s not fair; you know it isn’t. And maybe out of context, it’d sound strange to get worked up about it. But to have the person you love – the person who loves you – treat you with indifference, and get cruel enjoyment out of your pain?

That’s the stuff of nightmares.

Enough of that. You give your head a shake, like that’ll clear your thoughts somehow. It wasn’t Peter. It was the witch that was controlling him, forcing him to do all those things. You know this. It’s just lucky he hadn’t been forced to really hurt anyone.

It’s over, and Peter doesn’t remember what it was like, and that’s probably for the best.

Still, as you watch him sleep, you find yourself so badly wanting to hold him that it almost makes your chest ache. Peter hasn’t just been distant emotionally since Westview.

Since you’d started dating, Peter was a source of constant casual physical affection. Whenever you were together, he’d always have his arm around you, or be holding your hand, or sit close enough that his leg was pressed against yours. You hadn’t realized how much you’d gotten used to it – grown to expect it, even – until it’s suddenly absent.

Having be so withdrawn from you now, well… It hurts, if you’re being honest, especially since you don’t know why, and you don’t know how to help.

But there’s nothing you can do about it at this moment. And, since Peter doesn’t look to be having any more nightmares, it’s probably time for you to go. You ease yourself onto your feet, just now noticing how stiff your knee has gotten after standing around all evening at the party.

You limp as quietly as you can towards the door – and proceed to trip over Peter’s shoes.

You yelp in pain as your knee twists and you go crashing to the floor. You grit your teeth, trying not to swear.

And suddenly the lights are on in the room, and Peter’s kneeling beside you.

“What happened?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

That’s right. As fast as Peter gets drunk, he sobers up just as quickly. He looks present and alert at the moment, if a little worried.

“I tripped over the damn shoes,” you answer. “I’m fine, I think. I just-”

You break off, wincing, as you try to straighten out your leg. Damn it. Is it possible to double-sprain something? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Hang on,” says Peter. “Let me help.”

He doesn’t take your hands and help you stand up, like you’re expecting. Instead, he loops your arm around his shoulders and scoops you up bridal-style. The fact that he doesn’t use his superspeed almost disorients you more than if he had.

At a normal pace, he walks back and sets you down not on the sofa, but on his bed. He blurs for just a second, but that’s only to stack up his pillows to give you something to lean against.

As you gingerly straighten out your leg, Peter reaches out – to try to help, you suppose – then lets his hands fall in his lap.

“Thanks,” you say.

Peter frowns worriedly. “Can’t you do the…?”

He makes a gesture like he’s laying on hands or something, which confuses you for a second before you catch his meaning.

“Oh, I can’t do the healing stuff on myself,” you say. “Or at least I don’t know how yet. I gotta heal the old-fashioned way.”

You give him a wry smile. It could be worse, after all. You could’ve actually broken something. Peter doesn’t seem very reassured.

“I should get Hank,” he says.

“No, don’t!” you say as quickly as you can. “It’s not that bad. I’ll go to him in the morning, if I need to.”

No sense in dragging the poor man out of bed if it’s not an emergency. Unconvinced, Peter bites his lip.

“If you’re sure,” he says reluctantly, “But… Don’t move, okay? I’m gonna get you some ice.”

He’s gone. And then he’s back, holding a couple icepacks and a towel. You reach down to take the knee-brace off, but Peter swats your hands away. Why on earth-?

“Would you stop that?” he says, perching on the edge of the bed. “I’m trying to nurse you back to health here.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “Always the romantic.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why you like me.”

He’s not wrong. Peter flashes you a grin, and it’s so cheerful and unguarded and normal that it’s startling. This boy is gonna give you whiplash yet; you’re sure of it.

But then he looks down again to focus on the task at hand. He’s extraordinarily gentle as he undoes the brace and settles the icepacks on and around your knee. You want to turn his face towards you and kiss him, but you don’t. He must have some reason for keeping his distance.

As he’s finishing up, he finally speaks.

“I’m… I’m kinda afraid to ask, honestly, but how did you get hurt? It wasn’t- I mean,” Peter exhales forcefully, and hesitates before asking: “Was it me?”

His big, dark eyes meet yours, and the distress in his face nearly breaks your heart.

“What? No! Of course it wasn’t you,” you say.

Peter seems to relax a little, but still has that troubled look in his eyes. He really doesn’t remember, does he? You did get into a scuffle with him while he was still under mind control, and he had ended up knocking you down, but it hadn’t hurt you any more than tripping on the sidewalk would’ve. Also… this doesn’t seem like the right time to mention that part of the story. You hurry to explain.

“It was that witch – Agnes, or Agatha, or whatever her name is,” you say. “She couldn’t send me back, and she couldn’t get in my head, so she dumped me in the Westview Hospital psych ward.”

Peter’s jaw drops. “She what?”

“I mean, it wasn’t like a horror story hospital or anything,” you clarify. “It was actually a pretty nice place, aside from the fact that they wouldn’t let me leave because they thought I was dissociating and suffering from delusions. Which is exactly what what’s-her-name was counting on.”

Peter nods slowly, evidently more confused and no less concerned. “Okay… that explains where you were, but it doesn’t explain how you got hurt.”

“Oh, right. When I wasn’t able to talk my way out, I had to use my powers to get a window open. Only…” you wince at the memory. “My powers didn’t fully work in Westview, and the window was on the second floor. So when I jumped out of it, gravity did exactly what it’s supposed to do.”

Peter presses a hand to his mouth. Okay, this explanation is clearly making things worse.

“And then – okay, this isn’t funny, but it’s kinda funny. It was suddenly Halloween, so the streets were all covered in people and I had to hide, so I crawled into somebody’s hedges. Problem is, they spotted me and came over to see what was going on. So I told them,” you snort involuntarily just remembering it, “I told them that I was dressed up as a zombie, but it’s okay, I’m hiding in their hedge because I’m a method actor. And somehow, they bought it.”

You end your rambling with an awkward laugh, but it dies almost immediately. The anecdote didn’t mollify Peter even a little bit. Maybe you should’ve mentioned the part where you had to steal clothes off a scarecrow? … No, that probably wouldn’t have helped either.

Brows furrowed, eyes still troubled, he stares down at his hands. “You could’ve gone back. Why didn’t you go back?”

“Peter, I went to Westview to bring you home,” you say. “I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”

Although, now that he mentions it, going back for reinforcements probably would’ve been the smart thing to do. It honestly never occurred to you at the time. You were so focused on rescuing Peter that you couldn’t think of anything else.

For someone who allegedly doesn’t remember anything, Peter looks awfully distressed.

“Peter…?” you say, softly, “Are you alright?”

Before he can answer, you shiver violently, startling yourself as much as Peter, and completely breaking the moment.

“Sorry,” you say. “It’s the icepacks. I should probably get going soon, since I’m already cold.”

Peter blinks, and suddenly the shadow seems to lift from his mood. He’s bright and brisk again, taking the icepacks off of your knee.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “You’re not gonna go limping around in the cold in the middle of the night. You’ll end up getting sick on top of everything. You can stay here. No, don’t get up. I’ll crash on the couch this time.”

He’s really taking this ‘nurse you back to health’ thing seriously, isn’t he? Even if he’s just playing at it, it’s still kinda sweet. You can’t help but smile a little.

“How very Jane Austen of you,” you say.

Peter snorts. “That’s gotta be the nerdiest compliment anyone’s ever given me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As he finishes setting aside the icepacks, he turns back to face you.

“Now,” he says, “Is there anything else you need?”

Half-smiling, he looks at you with those big dark eyes, and you can’t help yourself. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a crushing embrace. You know it might make you look clingy, but you don’t care.

You’re fully prepared to pull away just as fast, but Peter’s arms fold around you almost instantly. He nestles his cheek against your head, gently stroking your hair.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

When you finally do pull back, Peter smiles down at you, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m not going anywhere, alright?” he says. “I promise.”

He kisses your forehead, and helps you arrange the pillows and settle in for the night. After extracting a promise that you’ll wake him up if you need something, he retreats to the couch.

The familiar scent of Peter’s cologne lingers reassuringly on his pillows. He’s not going anywhere, you tell yourself. The person who took him is in no position to cause him any more harm.

So why does it feel like part of him is still gone?

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fanfiction #x men fanfiction #wandavision fanfic #(I mean... it’s both and neither)#fun fact! i started writing out a whole other flashback sequence #about meeting Monica and helping free Peter #but it went on too dang long so I cut it #maybe I’ll finish it up and post it as a deleted scene

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