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jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #osamu #osamu miya

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warmblanketwhump · 4 years ago

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sick day

A coughs roughly, bracing themselves against the aisle after another fit of hacking left them gasping for breath.

It hadn’t been that bad this morning. They’d woken with a scratchy throat, achy limbs, and a tickle in their nose, but nothing unmanageable. Besides – they needed the money. Badly. Living alone was expensive, but they didn’t know anyone else in the city, and they were barely keeping their head above the water as it was.

So they’d thrown on an extra sweater, ignored the chill deep within their bones, and headed out to work.

4 hours into a 12 hour shift, A would have welcomed the sweet embrace of death. Or any embrace at all - something to stop the shakes in their limbs or still the spinning world.

As if by divine intervention, a hand reaches out and gently clasps their shoulder. “Hey, are you feeling alright?”

B had never seen anyone that sick still standing. Pale. Forehead slick with sweat. Shaky hands. Wearing one too many layers in the stuffy, crowded air of the grocery store.

A had only been working at the store for a couple months. but B couldn’t recall a time when A wasn’t working, morning or night. And it showed - in the dark smudges under their eyes, and the way they leaned heavily against the boxes of spaghetti they’d been trying to stock. Another round of coughs sent them reeling, and B rushes to their side and grabs their shoulder. “Hey, are you feeling alright?” A jumps, startled at the touch, and B drops their hand instantly.

“I’m...I’ll be fine,” A rasps, wiping their nose with their sleeve. They cross their arms, trying to hide the shiver that hunches their shoulders and rattles their teeth.

“A, you look like death warmed over. At the very least, you’re going to decrease pasta sales by a factor of 10 because you coughed all over them.” B smiles ruefully, but it doesn’t reach their eyes.

A tries to laugh at the joke, but a wave of dizziness swirls their vision, and they weakly grab at the shelf. Instead, they feel another body catch them – B’s solid, warm body which gently steadies them in a sort of hug.

“Easy there,” says B as A gasps for air, clasping weakly at B’s waist as B rubbed their back. In a matter of minutes, A is whisked back to their boss, and after a tense conversation in hushed whispers (of which A hears nothing) they’re out on the snowy streets, in B’s warm car, headed home. “There’s no way you’re working today, bud”, B says, slowly navigating the route to A’s apartment as A protests that they’re fine, to tell their boss they’ll come back to finish their shift after a quick nap.

As they help A navigate the creaking stairs of their cold, damp apartment building, B’s heart twists - no wonder A’s so sick if they’ve been living in a place like this in a winter this harsh.

They enter A’s dark, freezing apartment, and B gently deposits them on the threadbare couch and drapes a nearby blanket around their shoulders.

“Thank you...you didn’t have to bring me–” Another round of coughs cuts A’s rasping voice short, and they tug the blanket tighter around themselves and shiver helplessly.

B frowns and gently feels A’s forehead (burning up) and slips their hand down to A’s neck to check their lymph nodes (definitely swollen). A draft from the window sets A’s teeth chattering, and B scans the sparsely furnished apartment, searching for another blanket. Eventually, they settle for shedding their own jacket and wrapping that around A, too.

“A, it’s freezing in here. Where’s your thermostat?”

“Won’t matter - it doesn’t work most days.” They cough again, longer this time. B rushes to A’s side, placing a hesitant hand between their shoulder blades and rubbing slow, deliberate circles until A finally catches their breath. A leans back and closes their eyes, breathing heavily, a single tear tracking down their cheek. B can tell that they’re exhausted, and their heart cracks at A’s huddled form.

B chews their lip, worried. The last thing they want to do is insult A, but staying alone in this awful apartment will only make them sicker. Their mind pops to their own warm, cozy apartment, their fully stocked medicine cabinet - and to the extra room, recently vacated by their roommate who had just taken a new job in another city.

You haven’t even known them that long, warns the rational side of their brain. Why should you worry yourself over them?

But even though B doesn’t know A well, they like them - the two of them made a good team, and although A was quiet, they had a fun sense of humor and seemed to genuinely care for those around them, always helping where they could, always quick with a compliment, a kind word, or a smile for someone else.

And B knew how terrible it was to be sick alone. Two springs ago, they’d caught a bad cold - and nothing could truly capture the miserable feeling of dragging yourself out of bed, feverish, half alive, desperately hoping that someone would stop by and check in on you. Finally, B takes a deep breath.

Just ask. If they say no, you leave. That’s it.

“Say, um...look. I don’t want to be - you know, creepy or anything,” B stutters as A turns to meet their eyes. “It’s just...well, my shift is basically over by now, and I was just going to go home after this anyways, and I know your heating’s out so if you wanted to come hang out where it’s warmer until it’s fixed or something, you can. And I’ve got medicine and stuff at my place too, and my roommate just moved out so it’s just me and it wouldn’t be any trouble. If you want.” B let it all out in a single breath, hoping that they hadn’t sounded as awkward as they felt.

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

A’s eyes well up with tears, and they inhale a shaky breath that has nothing to do with their coughing fits. They had no reason to expect such kindness from someone who barely knew them, what they’d been through, how hard they’d been fighting, how long they’d been alone without anyone who cared.

They knew what B was really asking. B knew damn well that A’s heating wasn’t coming back on any time soon. They knew B likely suspected that A had spent the last few winter nights shivering themselves to sleep, and that this embarrassing, freezing apartment was all they could afford on their own, even after all those extra shifts.

And yet B still gave them the dignity of asking.

If you want. And they did.

“I’d like that.” A says quietly, voice rough from coughing.

B smiles, relief evident in their eyes. “Good. Let’s get you ready, then.”

10 minutes later, they head back down the stairs, B holding them steady and gently rubbing A’s arms to get some warmth into their still-feverish body. And despite feeling absolutely drained, A smiles. Maybe things would be okay after all.

#whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #sickfic #sicknario #fever whump #caretaking #hurt comfort #welcome to this super long thing that has been sitting in my drafts forever #hope y'all like long form whump bc that's all i got rn #this was actually super fun to write #may do more dual perspective stuff!!!#also apparently awkward caretaker is my jam *shrugs*#my writing

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the-writers-bookshelf · 3 years ago

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I get so discouraged with writing when I see other people's work. I feel like I don't know how to carry a story like they do. I write a few lines and them I find myself wondering, what next?

Are there any tips for knowing how to drive a story and how to know exacltly how to progress through a chapter without getting slumped.

Hey anon, great question! :)

The best way to learn the craft of writing boils down to three things:

1. Read A LOT.

When you read, you familiarize yourself with story structure. You learn how to recognize story beats and the rhythm of storytelling, pacing, etc. You will also see when people bend the rules a little and still get away with it.

2. Practice.

Tell stories. Tell many, many stories. Because the more you tell stories, the more you become familiar with them. You'll learn what works for you and what doesn't, where your sticking points are, whether you're a pantser or a plotter or a plantser. You'll be able to tell, "Oh, I've been here before! Some juicy conflict needs to go here to drive the action."

3. Monitor your self-talk.

The BIGGEST problem you will face as a writer is your own brain. Because that's where the best ideas come from but it can also be a dumpster fire of negative self talk if you're not careful. You can really be your own worst enemy, caught up in your own head if you're not careful! (ask me how I know)

I PROMISE those writers you admire? They did NOT always know what was going to happen next. What you see is a final product that is pretty damn polished. It's been rewritten, torn apart, cut-pasted-hacked-slashed-overanalyzed to within an inch of its life.

I would argue that most of the time, people do not know exactly how a chapter is going to progress when they sit down to write it and that's okay!

***

I would suggest writing short stories to familiarize yourself with the practice of creating conflict from point A to point B. Short stories are great practice because they're short, fairly easy to finish projects, and they are a fantastic stepping stone into longer works.

You could also check out methods for plotting. You might be someone who needs to have the whole story mapped out before you start.

I've always been the type to see a few major plot points before I get started and then figure out the rest as I go, so when you read a lot of my stories, I'm literally plucking threads of plot out of thin air and making it up as I go along!

No, you don't know how to carry a story like those other writers do because those are THEIR stories to tell. You have your own stories to tell and it's going to take time, practice, dedication, and patience with yourself as you figure out your voice, your style, and your methods.

As long as you keep reading and keep writing, you'll get there! :)

P.S. I will note here that feedback can be a super helpful stage at some point in this process because people can point out where certain areas may fall flat. But not yet. You need to be solidly comfortable in your storytelling abilities before you seek feedback because criticism too early in the game can be brutal. So focus on developing your craft for now! :)

#asks #anonymous

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justkending · 4 years ago

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Is that seriously your password? (Birthday One-shots)

Prompt: Is that seriously your password?

Challenge: justkending Birthday drabbles and one-shots

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2100+

A/N: This was asked for a by anon, so thank you to whoever you may be! I thought this was cute little one-shot once it came to me! Also, coming up with the password took me a seconds, but then I heard Sebastian's voice in my head and well... Here we are;)

“Hey FRIDAY? Who all from the team is in the compound?” Y/N shouted from Tony’s lab where she was working on a new piece of equipment for her uniform.

“Everyone is out either on a mission or off the compound premises for personal business,” the AI responded. “However, Sergeant Barnes is in the living room reading.”

“He works. Can you ask him to come down here?” she continued, never breaking from her computer screen she was typing away on in front of her.

“Of course,” FRIDAY responded before going quiet for a minute and speaking back up. “He seemed rather confused by the request, but he’s on his way.”

“Always paranoid that one,” Y/N mumbled before shouting a thank you and going back to typing a storm.

A few minutes later, Bucky cautiously peaked through the glass doors to the lab and saw Y/N completely entranced in whatever she was working on in front of her. She was typing and scanning the screen quickly and then immediately turning to a notebook beside her to write whatever it was down.

“Why are you calling me down here out of all people?” he said almost concerned.

“Because everyone else is either fighting bad guys or off away from the compound doing their own thing,” she responded, finally breaking away from her computer screen upon hearing his voice.

“Oh,” he nodded before looking around and hesitantly coming in more.

He didn’t care to come down to Stark’s personal man cave much. Tony still threw sarcastic insults and passive jokes at him every once in a while even though they had made up and moved on. But it was Tony. He was kinda that way with everyone. Either way, they only really crossed paths if they absolutely needed too.

“Here, come here for a second,” she waved him over, pushing back her chair as she stood up and stretched some.

Bucky listened even though his face showed he was confused and hesitant about it all. It wasn’t Y/N either. They were actually good friends after all the missions and team dinner and movie nights of getting to know each other. They shared a lot in common. She was an old soul for a pretty young member of the crew and Bucky admired that. Because of her mannerisms and interest, they got a long rather quick. It made it easy for them to instantly click.

“What are you doing?” he asked when he saw her raise her hands and projections of pieces of her suit for missions popped up in pieces in the air with what looked like notes and statistics floating around them. The blueprints for it all lit up in front of them without a screen to stay on. He may never get used to the advancement of technology because anytime he saw something new, something crazier would pop up soon after.

“I came up with some new little tricks for my suit. It’s not not a bad outfit, but there’s always something new that can be better and improved,” she shrugged, moving the pieces around in the air with her fingers.

Oh yeah, and next to Tony and Banner, the woman could maneuver through almost any form of technology as if it was as easy as learning how to count to 10 on your fingers.

“I only have the metal on the bottom of my boots, and it’s worked for this long. But, I feel like there’s ways I can discreetly add more throughout the suit without weighing it down, making it easier to maneuver when I’m airborne.”

Another note to know, Y/N was an enhanced. She had the ability to bend and manipulate any form of metal. So the metal that Tony had built into her shoes made it to where she could lift herself off ground level and fly. However, through trial and error, they noticed that they couldn’t really add it to many other places as it weighed her down and made fighting a lot less agile. Don’t get it wrong though. She made it work. She just preferred it to be better.

“Sounds like a smart idea.” He paused in the silence as she continued to analyze the layout in front of her silently. “Did you just want company to show off that big brain of yours, or am I supposed to give you an opinion?”

He was sassy with her. She was sassy back. It was the way of their friendship for the most part.

“No, Barnes. I need you to give me your password,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him with a stink face before moving back to the computer. He chuckled at her facial expression and followed her to her setup.

“Why do you need my password? You have your own account,” he questioned, watching as she went to log into the files under SHIELD's confidentials.

“No, actually. Mine went caput last night,” she huffed. “Some weird glitch happened, don’t ask me how because you would think Stark tech is more advanced, but whatever caused it made my account go haywire. In saying that...” She clicked a few more things moving faster than Bucky could keep up with on the screen. Then she turned to him and leaned back on the counter. “Tony was supposed to make me a new one or fix it, but he bailed on me today for brunch with Pepper... In Capri.” She let out a big breath. “So until he gets back, I’m at a standstill getting the information I need to fix this.” The smile on her face showed she was done telling her story.

“So you need my password to get confidential information?” he asked, crossing his arms and putting his weight onto one leg. “What kind of confidential stuff are we talking here because I don’t need Tony going through my history and asking me questions I can’t answer,” he pointed with raised eyebrows.

“Highly doubt he cares or has the time to go through your history, Buck,” she laughed, turning back around and raising her hand with a swift motion bringing the chair to her without actually touching it.

Bucky looked down at it as it moved and noticed the metal base of it. He was always shocked anytime she used her powers. For one, she was rather graceful with her own for the most part, so the act of watching her do it, was somewhat mesmerizing. But also, he was still trying to wrap his head around people born with abilities like that. Wanda really threw him for a loop the first time he met her.

Shaking out his head and following to stand by where she was sitting, he argued with her statement.

“Yeah, I’d think about that again,” he winced. “Out of all the people Tony is going to keep an extra eye on, who do you think it is?”

Y/N paused and turned to him scrunching her nose.

“Ok, yeah you’re right,” she nodded. Bucky sent her a look in agreement. “But I promise it’s not for anything crazy. I just want to find a resource for the lightest metal we can get our hands on. I think if I can get some of that, I can place it throughout my suit to not weigh it down as much and make any hand to hand combat about 100x easier and more fluent.”

“Sounds like a solid plan. What file do you think is going to hold something like that?” he nodded, crossing his arms again and leaning his backside on the table facing her in her chair.

“The same one that talks about vibranium,” she sassed some. “I just want to run some analytics to see my options on what will be most malleable for the suite. Some metals may be lighter, but that doesn’t always mean suitable for tons of kinesthetic motions.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he shook his head, smiling at her.

“I know. I got the beauty and brains,” she smiled with a shrug, but she was playing around. Y/N was never one to boast about herself. She was as humble as Tony was egotistical. “Ok, enough small talk. What’s your password, Barnes?”

All that was left to do on the page she had pulled up was type in said password and she was in.

“Uh, I don’t really want to say it outloud,” he said, becoming bashful all of a sudden. His arms tightening around him self consciously.

“Why?” Y/N asked with a tilt of her head. “Scared I’ll remember it and hack your account? May just search for some things that Tony would love to tease you about.”

“Haha,” he said flatly. “And no. I know for a fact you would never do that. You’re too nice for that,” he responded. “It’s just. It’s an embarrassing password.”

“It can’t be that bad. Come on, just say it Mister so I can get my research done!” she persisted, poking his flesh arm.

“Here, let me just type it,” he said, moving to the keyboard.

“Nuh-uh,” she said moving the keyboard with a flick of her wrist out of his reach. Damn practically everything for having some form of metal in it. “I’m too intrigued now. I want to know what it is…” The mischievous gleam in her eye showed Bucky he probably wasn’t going to win this.

“What happened to your sweet innocent self?” he said slightly shocked by her antics, but not able to hold back a chuckled.

“It’s her off day today. She needed a break… And a little fun,” she smiled wider. “Come on. Just tell me. I promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“I don’t think you can keep that promise.”

“Have I ever not?”

“I mean that one time when you promised to make chocolate chip pancakes because I was having a bad day, and then ditched me for a mission,” he noted. The fake hurt was exaggerated in his eyes.

“Hey! I have no control over when something like that comes up,” she pointed at him. “You know that too on a personal level.”

“Still never got those pancakes though,” he said, letting out a disappointed sigh as he shook his head.

“Ugh, fine. How about this?” she started, leaning back in her chair. “You tell me your password, and if I laugh then I go make you those famous pancakes now. If I don’t laugh, you have to drop that whole thing and not bring it up again.”

He weighed his options watching her. The two staring into each others eyes bargaining in silence. Sure Bucky didn’t want to say his password, but worse case scenario she laughed, maybe teased him a litt, but he got pancakes. And he knew she would laugh…

“Fine. But just know, I like my pancakes with extra chocolate,” he sighed, relaxing his muscles some. “And whip cream.”

“Won’t need to. I’m tough enough to not react to whatever it is,” she smiled, bringing the keyboard back over. “Ok, so what is it?”

He stayed silent for a minute. God, he hated saying it outloud. Not that he really ever had to, but still. It was embarrassing.

“It’s… It’s WienerSoldier1917,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N said with wider eyes. She heard him, but she was wondering if she heard him right.

“The W and S are capitalized…” he practically whispered looking down. When he didn’t hear a response but insead deafening silence, he looked over seeing her biting her lip and trying her best to suppress a laugh. Her face became slightly red and her eyes started blinking fast as she tried to pull herself together. “Yeah, I’m definitely getting those pancakes,” he sighed with a shake of his head, not being able to hold back his own soft smile.

Not even two seconds later, Y/N was in a laughing fit. Practically falling out of the chair. If Bucky hadn’t caught her when he did, she would have gone over the side and brought the chair down with her, but he casually kept the chair from tipping with one arm.

“Oh, that’s just too good,” she finally got out after a few minutes of full on, stomach aching laughing. She wiped her eyes at the few tears that had come down and shook her head. “Is that seriously your password?”

“You know Tony came up with it! And he knows I don’t know how to change it!” Bucky defended.

“Oh, Tony. What a comedian…” Y/N sighed, catching her breath. “Ok, back to business.” She typed in the password not being able to hold back yet another round of laughs as she typed it out. Bucky just rubbed his temple as she went about her research and giggled.

After pulling up a few things, she turned to him.

“Ok, I own you a batch of pancakes now,” she smiled, standing and organizing the desktop. “I’ll come back and finish up down here later.”

“You’re not even upset you laughed, are you?” Bucky said following her in step to the door.

“Oh, I knew I was going to already with how you were acting. I also knew I was hungry and up for something sweet anyway,” she shrugged. “Win, win for me.”

“You’re a punk,” Bucky faked shock, nudging her shoulder with his own before opening the door for her.

“Eh, like I said. Sweet-innocent Y/N, as you called her, has a day off,” she smiled up at him before wrapping her arm through his. “Hey, and after breakfast? I’ll show you how to change your password,” she looked up at him with a wink.

The two chuckling and talking as they walked upstairs arm and arm to the kitchen.

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness

@bellamy-barnes

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses

#bucky barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x y/n

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senditcolton · 3 years ago

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The Intimacy of... (7)

word count: 0.9k warnings: none!

The Intimacy of... borrowing a jacket still warm from their body heat.

“One large popcorn, please,” you ask the worker behind the movie theater counter. They nod, ringing it up and you are about to pull out your wallet when three bags of candy are placed onto the counter next to you. You look up and see the smiling face of Brock looking back down at you.

“Really Brock?”

“What?” he asks incredulously. “You can’t go see a movie without popcorn, candy, and pop. This’ll just count as my cheat day or something.”

“Hey, I’m not the one to squash your perfect movie day,” you say, organizing the bags of candy so the cashier could add them to your order. You start to pull out your credit card to pay but Brock beats you to it, holding out his own card to the cashier before you can even remove yours from your wallet. You turn to him, the look clear on your face.

“You already paid for our tickets,” Brock says, as if the explanation was the most obvious one in the book.

“Brock, you don’t need to pay for this. I’m a grown-up, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” Brock laughs as the cashier hands back his card and he scoops up the full bag of popcorn in front of the two of you. “But just let me pay. You deserve to be taken care of sometimes.”

You don’t say anything, instead moving to pick up the empty soda cups and bags of candy, following closely behind Brock as he makes his way over to the soda fountains.

“You like extra butter on your popcorn, right?” Brock asks.

“Yes, please and thank you. What kind of pop do you want?”

“Orange Fanta!”

“One orange Fanta, coming right up!” you laugh back, Brock and you falling back in that easy rhythm that defined your friendship. He laughed with you, grabbing the newly buttered popcorn and waited off to the side for you to add lids and straws to the drinks. You handed Brock his and had suppress the shudder that went through you when his fingers grazed against yours.

You thought you did a decent job at it but you didn’t notice the small raise of Brock’s eyebrow at your reaction. He doesn’t press, instead lets the easy silence fall between the two of you as you make your way into the proper theater.

The two of you enter and Brock is about to waltz right to a pair of open seats but you stop him.

“Wait, I haven’t counted yet.”

“What do you mean?” Brock questions but you are concentrated on counting the number of rows in the theater.

“What’s a third of 11?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just tell me, I’m terrible at math.”

“Well, eleven can’t easily be divided by three. I hope you know that,” Brock teases.

“Yes, I know,” you joke back. “But give me a rough estimate.”

“It’s about four.”

“Okay,” you reply and start counting the rows again, making your way up the aisle and stopping at the seventh row, scooting down until you’ve gotten as close to the middle as you possibly could. “Here, we are. The perfect seats!” you declare, sitting down.

“Tell me, why are these seats any better than the ones I was going to choose,” Brock asks, taking his place next to you.

“It’s a little life hack I saw a while ago. You always want to sit about two thirds up in the middle of the row when seeing a movie in theaters because that’s where creators do their final sound mixing. Pretty cool right?”

“How do you know all that stuff?” Brock asks, a bewildered but loving expression on his face as he looks over at you.

“Just because one of us happens to have a single brain cell doesn’t mean both of us have to,” you tease, trying to ignore the electricity thrumming through you. Your body moves in an unprompted shiver, as if that energy was trying to find some place to go and Brock’s soft smile downturns.

“Are you okay? That’s like the second time you’ve shivered.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you quickly say, another shiver running through you at how closely Brock was watching you and noticing these things about you. It didn’t scare you, per say, it just caught you off-guard. “It’s just a little cold in here. My mom always thinks movie theaters are too cold so maybe I’m taking after her.”

“Well, here,” Brock says, lifting himself out of his seat and starting to take off his coat.

“No, Brock, stop. It’s fine, I don’t need it,” you attempt to protest, pushing yourself forward in your seat, but Brock is not hearing it. Instead, he swings his coat over your shoulders.

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage as Brock tugs the fabric close, smiling down at you. You shoot a quick smile back at him, letting your arms find their way into the sleeves and grip onto the soft fabric, still warm from his body heat. You softly inhale his cologne lingering on the jacket material, filling your senses as you cuddle back into your seat.

The lights dim and Brock quickly sits back in his seat as the previews starts to play on the screen in front of you. But before the movie theater goes completely dark, you manage to lean close to Brock.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime,” he whispers back and you can’t help the new surge of warmth that runs through you, this time from his words, instead of the coat wrapped around you.

#nicole writes #the intimacy of series #brock boeser fluff

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bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

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Word Count: 1.4k

Warning/s: toxic relationship dynamics, dark!bucky x dark!reader, stalking, coercion and lying, manipulative tendencies, injuries and blood mention, food was mentioned for a bit

A/N: WE ARE GETTING THERE, BABES WHEW OKAY

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

A month had passed since your not-date date had happened. You tried to forget the rest of the day, only focusing on how he looked and talked to you that day. How he smiled, trying to play off the ‘cool guy’ narrative.

You suddenly grew cold, noticing how your conversations became sparse—dry in between. Fewer texts and long waits. It made you nervous, sad, and a little bit annoyed. You barely see him around the office too—has Bucky been avoiding you?

His office is a bit out of the way for you to accidentally stumble in, anyway; the days you’re in the office were unsynchronized. Would it count as a punishable offense if you mess up with your company-approved laptop?

Saying you missed Bucky is an understatement: the bottle of cologne that smells like him sits empty on your dresser. The pictures you took of him taped loosely on your corkboard. Bits and pieces of papers he gave you tacked on it haphazardly.

Can someone die from loneliness?

Is this what being in love feels like?

Suffocating, consuming, your chest feels heavy, and your stomach is in knots.

—

Another month, another throng of employees needing new passwords. There are literal posters around the floor reminding everyone to use a password manager. Bucky can’t believe that he has to work with idiots around him. When he took up computer science as a major in college, he imagined himself hacking into… government intel, or something. Not looking after dimwits that don't know how to install an update.

His text messages are red with notifications—bank updates, deliveries, and you.

For some reason, Bucky can’t bring himself up to return your messages. Hi’s, hey’s, and how are you’s littered his text chain. Is he a bad person for not replying back? He can always just make up an excuse, right?

When you told him that you liked him, kissed him like you meant it, his fondness dispersed into thin air. The easy is never worthy and the worthy is never easy, as his father told him.

A ding from his phone brought him forth, another text from you: coming up right now, can we talk?

Now, he can’t come up with an excuse.

—

Bucky heard you before you come in, knocking on his door like the first time you met.

He clears his throat, calling out a come in! before rolling back from his cluttered desk. Tickets were few and far in between, he knows he can spare you at least 20 minutes but he just doesn’t want to.

“Hey,” you said, your head poking into his office. You weren’t entirely sure why you came up here in the first place, you really, really, really just wanted to see him again.

Bucky chuckles, pulling the door open for you. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

You breathe out a little, shaking the feeling sinking deep inside your stomach, “yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” Stepping into his office, you eye his desk. He’s been busy. Papers and files are piling up on the left side of his desk, half of his setup is covered with those post-it notes. Several mugs littered his small space.

Huh, “Sorry, I can come back some other time.”

Turning on your heel, you pivot a little to grab the door when Bucky grabs your upper arm, “don’t go—”

He realizes the implications if someone were to see the two of you and so he lets go, much to your discomfort. You face him, either way, you’re sure he’s not gonna let you go that easily.

“Sorry, it’s just- I missed you.”

And there it was. I missed you.

He was thinking about you.

“I was just gonna drop off some files… But,” you rake your brain for a coherent train of thought, “I missed you too.”

A smile of relief overcomes Bucky’s features, his eyes crinkling just the way you like. His steely blue eyes hidden beneath his lashes.

“I have uh, a thing later… Dinner with friends—do you wanna come?” You make a show of peering over his shoulder and onto his desk, “unless you’re busy?”

“I’d love to come.” He says, tucking his pointer finger underneath your chin, flicking it forward so you’d look at him, “what time is it?”

“Come by around seven. I’ll text you my address.”

Bucky doesn’t need your address. He already came a dozen times by your building, trying to build up the nerve to knock on your door and kiss you silly. Like in those movies you watch late at night.

But he’s conflicted, no?

Are you really as good as they come?

—

At six-thirty, you already sent the text: take the east street, beige apartment block. I’m on the third floor, second door to your right. :)

At six-fifty five, Bucky’s already there, his car idling on the sidewalk. He’s… nervous. Why is he nervous? It’s just dinner. A small get-together with friends. Speaking of friends, he didn’t see any unfamiliar cars parked on the block. Maybe it’s not work friends?

Letting out a sigh, Bucky fetches the small bouquet of flowers and wine he brought, just in case. He doesn’t wanna be the only one showing up empty-handed.

On the dot, Bucky knocks on your door. He plasters on his best smile as you open the way, revealing yourself.

God, you look gorgeous. Why did he stop hanging out with you in the first place?

Oh, right.

“Aw, flowers and wine? You’re too sweet!” You chirp out, stepping out of the way to let him into your apartment. Taking the gifts from his hands, you put them away while Bucky busies himself checking out your place.

It’s weird seeing your place in real life. Bucky noted the hint of lavender in the air, coupled with a smidge of coffee brewing. He’s so used to seeing parts of it but not everything-everything. He careens his neck to look down the hallway, catching a glimpse of your bedroom.

“If you’re lucky, you can see it tonight.” A peal of boisterous laughter comes out of you, lightly kicking his foot with yours, “I’m kidding. It’s off-limits for visitors, sorry.”

“Right…” Bucky looks around, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet up to his toes. “Am I too early? I can help you set the table.” The table is halfway finished and you’re stirring in cheese into a sauce. Roux, perhaps.

“No, it’s okay…” You trail off, lowering the heat before facing Bucky, “I lied.”

“What?”

“There’s no dinner—I mean, there is. Just not with friends.” You bite your lip, looking down on your shoes before tearing your gaze away from the floor to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“You lied? Why- why would you lie about that?” Annoyance and frustration all seep out near the surface. His jaw ticking as he gritted his teeth.

“Are you mad?”

“Are you mad?” Bucky asks back in a mocking tone, bringing his fist down the dinner, “you—you’re crazy. I knew it, I knew you’re crazy. Lying about dinner and what, trying to get me alone? Jesus, what--” He lets out a mirthless laugh, the one that sends chills down your spine.

You stood there, frozen at your spot. You’re hurt. He called you crazy. He called you crazy when he’s the one who spied on you for weeks on end.

When he’s the one who watches you at night.

When he’s the one who left those notes on your desk.

The one who sent those texts and left calls and voicemails.

“Fuck you.” Your words rang empty as Bucky walked out of the kitchen in long strides. The dinner long forgotten.

You calmly watch him turn the doorknob open, failing when the adjacent locks prevent him from opening the door. Two deadbolts and a chain lock. Never would you have thought that the threat would be coming inside your home.

“I’d think twice before leaving without dinner.”

—

Bucky stirs awake. The sound of cutlery on plates grating on his nerves. His head is throbbing. His right temple feels tight and tender, there’s something hard and crusty covering the right side of his face. He can suddenly feel the weight of his left arm, leaning over to compensate for the sudden pain.

He wasn’t aware that he had closed his eyes; the lights suddenly glaringly bright.

Right, the dinner.

The dinner?

Wasn’t he supposed to—

“Thank fuck. I thought you were dead.”

God, he hopes he is.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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asupernaturalgirl · 4 years ago

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I’ll Always Be Here to Help You

Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader

Request: If you don’t mind, I wanna request maybe something like sam and the reader previously being lovers in the past but they separate and she becomes a lab rat for hydra or something like that, and he saves her and what not. Very cliche yet cute in my opinion. 🙂🙂❤️ @jeonsblackgf-writes

A/N: Hey, All! I have to admit, this one made me a bit nervous. This is my first Marvel One shot and I wanted it to be so good so I hope you all like it. Also, this is written in 3rd person, which is new for me in one shots so I hope you don’t mind.

Warnings: torture, breakups, hydra stuff

H/C: Hair Color, S/C: Skin Color

There’s a moment when you’re watching something about to happen, something terrible, where you so badly want to turn your head, to avert your gaze, but something is still fixing it onto whatever is happening. Car crashes, accidents, injuries. You would never purposefully enjoy watching something so terrible, but your brain doesn’t make the connection between something about to happen and needing to shield yourself from it.

That was exactly how Sam Wilson felt as he watched the screen in front of him. He wanted so badly to turn, to leave the room. Steve had even approached him to try to get him to leave, but some sick part of his brain wasn’t allowing him to even step a foot away. He watched as the sick criminals injected something into her skin. Her skin. It was so grey, so much paler than her normal (S/C) tone. Bruises and bloody injuries lined nearly every part of her body.

Her (H/C) hair, which he had loved so much, was matted and dirty. It was so unlike you, so rare for you to be so weak, so hurt, that he almost didn’t recognize you at first. It was her screams of pain, her desperate pleading that brought him back to reality and allowed it to actually sink into his brain. Hydra was using her as a lab rat. They had no plans to actually turn her into anything, they were just testing all of their materials on her.

He hadn’t seen her in so long. If he had known she was in danger, if he had known that this would have happened, he would have done anything to make sure she was safe.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam sat down at the park bench, holding her hands tightly as he tried to explain the very thing he was dreading explaining to her. It was worse than he imagined. “I can’t force you to wait for me when I’m off god knows where, fighting in the Air Force.”

She turned her head. Sam Wilson, the man who meant everything to her, the man who she’d been with since she was in 10th grade, was breaking up with her to go into the military. He didn’t want her to have to forsake her health and life so that he could live his own. “Sam, I don’t care about where you’re going. I’ll go with you. There’s nothing keeping me here anymore.”

He shook his head. People walking by looked over as the two of them spoke. Tears poured out of her eyes. She was still trying to keep from sobbing out loud, although she wasn’t sure how much longer that would actually last.

“You need to live your own life,” He was strong with his statement. As a rescuer, his job would be dangerous and take up a considerable amount of time. “Even if you came with me, I wouldn’t be around much. I can’t drag you to some unknown location and then force you to stay there without any friends and family. This is for the best.”

Y/N didn’t want to even look at him. She turned your head slightly and crossed her arms. She felt like a child who wasn’t getting what they wanted. Sam meant everything to her and it hurt her that he was leaving without even giving her an option in the matter.

“I love ya, sweetheart,” He ran his hand along her back, trying to comfort her. He hated when she cried and it hurt him even more that he was the one causing those tears. “I’ll come back and visit you when I get the chance.”

That had been the last time he spoke to Y/N. The last time he spoke to her before she was captured, he left her on a bench. The guilt began to spread in his chest at the thought. She must have been so terrified, so lost when Hydra captured her, and he wasn’t there to help. “We need to get her.”

Steve nodded his head. “Where do you know her from?”

Sam watched as she withered in the chair they had her strapped in, screaming for help. His chest constricted at the idea of Y/N in so much pain, the idea of someone hurting you like that. She had absolutely no business being there. “Her and I dated when we were in high school and a little bit before I joined the military. I broke up with her.”

Steve’s face dropped. He had no idea that she had been so close to Sam. He knew that his friend must have been devastated. Moving forward, Cap placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We’re gonna get her, Sam. I promise you.”

…

Sam was flying over the base, trying to find some weak point to enter through. It was easy to find the location. Because they had received the video via hacking, all they needed to do was look at the location codes. Rumors had been circulating about a Hydra base closeby, so once they had a general spot to look in, they found it rather quickly.

“Sam, the third window to the left in the back looks unguarded,” Clint said through the earpiece. “Goes into a small closet. We did a quick X-Ray check and it seems there’s no one guarding that either.”

“I’m goin’ in,” He said quickly, rerouting his position towards the back of the large base. He was surprised no one had found them yet. They were able to get into the base rather easily, which sent shivers up his spine. It was never this easy.

Apparently, it was right to be worried. As soon as he broke through the window and closed his wings to begin walking through, three men immediately charged him. He dodged them quickly, throwing one into the wall as he kicked another in the face, knocking him out. The last charged forward with a knife held in hand, but he quickly grabbed the man’s arm, bending it backwards. The sound of a bone snapping echoed through the small closet and he screamed out slightly in pain. Sam quickly pushed him into a cabinet while his defenses were down and slipped out before he tried anything else.

He walked carefully through the hallways, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than he already did. He hoped that the three men were the only defenses they put up against him, but he seriously doubted that.

The one thing that kept him going was thinking about Y/N. She deserved none of this and he would make sure she was safe before anything else. He pressed on the small bud in his ear. “I’m in. You see anything else?”

“There’s a couple of guys fighting down here,” It was Natasha this time. “Steve and Clint are trying to hold them off while you’re down there. Try to get to her quickly.”

“Well, it’d be a whole lot easier if I could see a damn thing down here,” He turned the corner, but could only see about 3 foot in front of him. The combination of dark walls and a lack of windows made it quite dark. “You’d think an organization that has been around for this long would have enough money to turn on some lights every once in a while.”

“Ha Ha, Wilson,” Natasha said sarcastically. “Just find Y/N and get the hell out of there.”

He went into overdrive mode. Occasionally, someone would pass by, almost completely oblivious to the fact that they had an enemy raiding the base at the moment. They were unprepared and by the time they realized they had to fight, Sam already had them on the ground.

One room in particular stuck out to him. There was a breaker box right outside the door for electricity. This meant they likely needed quick access to the controls here. He was wary, unsure of what he may find inside. He prayed that if she was there, no one else would be. He needed to get her and leave as quickly as possible.

He opened the door quickly, ready for a large fight. There she was. Y/N. She was sweating, but shivering at the same time. Her eyes were huge as she turned towards the door, caught off guard by the loud sound. He would never forget the expression of relief that crossed her face as soon as she saw him.

There was a man frantically trying to undo her restraints, likely trying to evacuate her before Sam could get to her. He quickly rushed forward, tackling the man to the ground. He grabbed the man’s head, hitting it against the concrete floor until he was seemingly unconscious. Sam pried the key from the man’s hand and rushed to unlock them.

“Sam, what are you...what are you doing here?” Y/N questioned. She was shocked. She had prayed that someone would help her, that someone would save her from the absolute misery she was experiencing. The person she expected was definitely not her ex boyfriend.

“Found a video of you being used as a lab rat,” He started, moving to her legs now that her arms were free. “There was no way I was going to let you stay here. Can you walk?”

“I-I don’t think so,” She looked down at her hands. “I’ve been here for a few weeks so my legs are so weak.”

It hurt Sam almost physically that they hadn’t even let you out of the chair. As soon as you were completely unshackled, he leaned down and lifted you into his arms, quickly carrying you throughout the facility.

This time, there was seemingly no one left to fight. He went through the same way that he came in, making sure he didn’t take a bad turn. Taking the wrong turn here could be the difference between life and death. Steve was waiting in the same closet he’d broken into, his eyes surprised as soon as he saw Sam come through the door with the girl in his arms.

Steve helped Sam out and sprinted with them as they made their way back to the jet. He could feel his arms beginning to grow heavy but he knew he couldn’t let you go. You wouldn’t be able to walk by yourself. Your muscles were likely atrophied at this point.

As soon as the team got the go ahead, they were taking off. A doctor had rushed forward to help Y/N, taking care of the most dramatic injuries first. He cleaned off a few deep wounds. “These likely needed stitches when they happened but they’re too old now. Stitching them would just cause the infection to be trapped inside.”

Sam watched as they worked, making sure that she wasn’t afraid. He felt the need to use comic relief, as he normally did, but refrained. It would likely be in bad taste at the current moment. After a few hours of poking and prodding, there was a few minutes where Y/N could just soak everything in. She had been rescued, saved from the most terrible people by Sam, her old love.

Sam sat quietly on a chair next to the small gurney. He looked down at his hands but kept a close eye on you to make sure you didn’t need anything. “Thank you, Sam.”

He looked up, surprised by her words. Why would she ever think she needed to be thankful for him for this? He got her out of a situation that he wouldn’t have wished on anyone. “You could have just called me if you wanted my attention. You didn’t have to do all this.”

A grin crossed Y/N’s face. He was the same old Sam. Even though he was a superhero and looked quite different physically than he had before, he still had the same personality. “Yeah, I might have to think about that differently next time.”

Sam slowly walked towards you and grabbed your frail hands in his large ones, giving you a comforting squeeze. His eyes were sincere as he looked down at you. “I meant what I said when I saw you last, Y/N. I love you. Even though we haven’t seen each other in years, I’ll always be here to help you.”

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #one shots #marvel #avengers #falcon #falcon x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #imagines #steve x reader #Bucky Barnes

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

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underrated stevetony fics rec list (P2)

this is ridiculously late and im so sorry, but here’s part 2 of this list!!

sweet lips on my lips (kiss like real people do).: @nethandrake

Frankly, if anyone told Tony that he’d be carried out of a burning building, well, he would’ve laughed in their faces. And if they were being extra mean about it, he probably would’ve even thrown them across the Atlantic.

After all, he’s Tony Stark. And Tony Stark always makes sure he has a safety net installed in his armor for emergencies, so it wouldn’t be out of commission before the building decided to collapse onto itself.

And yet, here he is, his armor out of commission, and being carried out of a burning building.

Carried out of a burning building by Steven Grant Rogers.

(In which Tony's from Civil War and Steve's from Infinity War. It's a problem.)

Rising: @withstarryeyes

Heat is licking up his sides and he groans, feeling his knees turn wobbly, and fumbles his way to the wall of the elevator. The metal is blessedly cool on his forehead and he sighs, eyes burning when he closes them. It’s still dark outside and every fiber of Tony’s being is telling him to go back to bed but he has work to do and plans to make and a blueprint open on his desk in the lab, Fury approved, and he can’t not do his job. So he musters all his strength and pushes off the wall when the elevator lands, ignoring his wet hacking as he moves.

He falls before he makes it to the bench, his top coated in sweat, and his eyes shutting to the whirling sensation that takes his breath away and leaves him panting in nauseated gasps. His hand shakes from where it’s planted on the ground, keeping him up.

the square root of infinity: @firebrands

steve and tony have their first fight. tony doesn't handle it well.

A Social Engagement: @finduilasclln

Written for the prompt: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Steve agrees to something without fully comprehending what it means. Modern times are confusing.

Wounds Without A Bandage: @gotthesilver

Tony burrows deeper in his blankets, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to forget the last year. Taking control of Stark Industries was one thing, even if it had been a shock to Obie and the rest of the board when Tony came of age and started dispensing of all his dad’s old cronies, but SI’s exploration team actually finding Steve? Tony deciding Steve should come live with him? Tony has regrets.

Well.

He has regrets this morning.

Before last night, the most Tony regretted in relation to Steve was not jumping him the moment it became clear all his faculties were intact and that Tony hadn’t defrosted a brain dead Captain America.

Love Like A Hunger: @gotthesilver

Pushing the door open to the bedroom, Steve pauses at what he sees. “Tony? I—”

“Surprise?”

“I—” Steve swallows, taking in the sight of Tony, blood instantly going to his cock as he looks him up and down. “You look—wow.”

Tony’s got on a damn Princess Leia outfit, gold curling around his chest and hips, with red fabric skimming over his crotch, and Steve’s brain feels like it’s shut down.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

the james braincell: @starklysteve

“Right. How do we get them to admit they love each other?”

In front of him, Bucky brings out a metal flask and takes a swig out of it. “Hell if I know. You’re the genius who went to MIT.”

“I studied aerospace engineering,” Rhodey rolls his eyes, “not how to get two idiots to kiss.”

-------

Or, Bucky and Rhodey are the braincells.

In a desperate last ditch attempt, they set Steve and Tony up for a blind date.

Steve and Tony don't know that their date is each other. But they might have a braincell of their own. Might.

the good place (is next to you): @starklysteve

“I mean,” Tony tries his best shot at breaking the tension, “if you’re stuck with the wrong guy, at least I’m sexier than your real deal?”

Tony died and got sent to some sort of heaven, with Captain America as his soulmate. Except, they got the wrong Anthony Stark, and to stay in the Good Place, Tony must convince Steve to teach him how to be good.

-x-

(watching The Good Place is not necessary to understand this AU, but will help)

president captain america: @livingtheobsessedlife

He’s supposed to be campaigning to be elected as president of the United States, not pining over some billionaire he met at one of his campaign events. And yet, Steve can’t seem to get genius, philanthropist (and his newest big-time donor) Tony Stark out of his head.

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

Between Two Infinities: @/anonymous

The Titanic, 1946. Steven Grant Rogers did not think that going to war would end up with him being three times his normal size with superstrength and agility to boot, and... rich...but hey, he wasn’t complaining. Steve also didn’t expect to fall out of love- if it was even love in the first place- with the woman he was explicitly told to propose to, and instead fall for a formerly rich, formerly a playboy, still a genius, Tony Stark. Especially because, you know, it was a little tiny bit illegal, and he was supposed to be “America’s Golden Boy”, as Bucky put it.

All Tony expected out of the trip was to escape Europe with his best friend thanks to a lucky game of blackjack. He didn’t think he’d find himself having sex in the back of a car located in the cargo hold of the Titanic, or almost jumping off said ship. But that was just the life of a rogue Stark child, wasn’t it? At least Peggy was nice. Her dad, not so much.

A Thief Like Tony Stark: @dontholdthiswarinside

Tony is a high ranking criminal, known for his talent to disappear. Steve is a disillusioned soldier who needs some cash.

And some people will always be heroes, no matter what they do for a living.

The Things We Can’t Unsee: @/orphan-account

The mission was simple: get in, gather information, get out. Of course, Steve never really expected the enemy to follow this plan. One way or the other, something was bound to happen. They were the Avengers, after all. Nothing ever went easy for them.

What Steve didn’t expect was it going as far as it did; he didn’t expect having to make a decision that nobody should have to make.

Now Bucky’s lying there, bloody and dying all because of him, and Natasha’s poisonous words keep ringing in his head. Thinking about the ring he carries with him every day, Steve knows she’s right.

He’d never be able to make that call if it were Tony.

The Last Barman Poet: @nativemossy

Tony wasn't expecting anything more than dealing with a tequila-drunk Clint and a slightly wrinkled suit on this trip to Mexico. He got plenty more than he bargained for when he catches the eye of a handsome vacationer at the swim-up bar. Tipsy shenanigans ensue.

#adi's rec list #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers/tony stark #steve rogers x tony stark #steve x tony #underrated stevetony fics

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kaz11283 · 4 years ago

Note

I really like the prompt list you reblogged it’s got some good stuff. What about 37. “Because I love you god damn it!” with Loki if you are still needing inspiration.

37) Because I Love You God Damn It!

~~~~

The Secret Is Out

Characters: the Avengers Bunch, Loki, Thor, Clint

Warnings: Dirty words, slight angst

Summary: after putting your life in the line for a teammate you accidentally let a big secret slip.

Announcements: I will always need insperation and requests! They feed my soul! Haha. I'm not gonna lie. Im skipping back and forth on my requests though. I have a really good story line for one but its just so emotional(thats were Im hoping it goes at least) that I didnt want to write it tonight and put my self in a mood. So instead I guess im goimg with a form of anger? Meh. Anyways... I absolutly love love love everything from you guys! The reblogs, likes, and comments are amazing and I am very greatful for all the love I am getting!!!! 💚💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~

The fight had been rough but not as rough as you were feeling in the moment. You had gotten serverly hurt and had been in the medbay for about a week now and you had a longer road ahead. There had been an explosion and instead of turning to run away you had ran toward one of your team members that had been to distracted to realize what was going on, you had successfully gotten him shoved out of the way but you had taken the brunt of the blast.

Now you were laying here staring at the celing trying to stay distracted as Bruce and Tony looked at your completely shaddered knee and the burns up your leg. Fingers crossed that they would have good news soon.

"Well as of right now kid your out of commission." Tony said helping you sit back up.

"Meaning?" You pulled one of the pillows down so that you could sit up without being uncomfortable.

"Meaning right now, the way it all looks, your gonna be stuck in the bed until it fully heals and after wards theres really no way to tell if your going to be able to work in the field again." Burce said looking at the xrays again. "And your gonna have to have surgery in order to put all the right pieces back in the right places, but we cant really do that until some of the burns heal or at least start to heal. Its gonna be a long drawn out process unfortunately." He sighed setting the charts back down and walking over to you.

"Fucking hell! You mean I'm gonna be pushing paper work? I might as well go work in a damn office with four white walls and a poster that says 'hang in there, its almost Friday'." You placed your head in your hands.

"Hey! At least our paper work is more exciting than just running numbers." Tony said placing a hand on your back. He had been like a fsther to you, taking you in when you didnt have anywhere else to turn except the streets. Your own family had abandoned you at a young age and you had been leaning toward a dark path until Tony. "Besides with your expertise you dont have to sit behind a desk, your fingers arent blown off, you can still hack into stuff I'm sure."

"Tony we had a deal when I moved in. No hacking but you would train me and I could actually do good. Now look at me."

"I said no hacking the good guys, and if I remember correctly you were the one jumping close to the bomb not away from. I hate to be this way y/n but the only one to blame is yourself on this one."

"He would have been worst off than I am if not killed. I think I did the right thing. Besides you would have done the same thing if you had been closer." You sighed.

"Honey the diffrence with that is I have a supersuit, you wear a skin tight, spandex one peice, that I'm not a fan of." He laughted. Bruce had went to go get you some more pain killers to shoot into your IV.

"Tony if I were you I would shut up. Your starting to sound like you might actually love me, might even say your starting to act like a dad." You laughed pulling him into a hug.

"Shut it kid, cant let the others know I have a soft spot for the hacker orphan kid i took in all those years ago now can I." He said kissing the top of your head. "Do you need anything else before the drugs kick in and you pass out again?"

"Yes, can you please bring me my phone charger, laptop, and that really fluffy blanket that you and Pep got for me for Christmas."

"Dont ask to much of me now."

"I wouldnt be asking if you would just let me stay in my room. I hate it down here. I wanna be were the people are." You were starting to get loopy from whatever Bruce had given you.

"Ok little mermaid, get some rest I'll get your stuff." He laughed walking out the door letting you fall into a restless sleep.

You didnt know how long you hade been asleep but you woke up with a groan trying to sit up so you could atleast stretch your back from laying in one spot for to long. You flopped back down dramatically with a sigh. You could sense someine else in the room with you, you always knew when he was around.

"You dont have to hide in the shadows Loki. Your more than welcome to keep me company, you should know that by now." You smiled as the prince walked over and sat in the chair beside you. You could tell he hadnt been sleeping, his hair was fixed as always but his clothes looked worst for wear. He had on a plain black shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants, both of with had wrinkles in them either from tossing and turning or from not being changed in a few days.

"Whats wrong? And dont pull that 'nothing is wrong dear. I'm absolutly fine.' Bullshit. You look horrible." You reatched out to grab his hand. What you and Loki had was diffrent. You didnt just see his as a friend, he didnt just see you as that either though. You had spent many nights sitting up with the silver tounge man many nights laying on the couch watching movies, reading, talking about each of your pasts. He knew more about you than even Tony did.

"I'm still currently trying to wrap my head around why you pushed me out of the way and took the blow when you had a chance of dying from it. You shouldnt have been so thick headed my dear." He took your hand and raised it to his lips kissing the top of your hand.

"Loki." You sighed rolling your head to look back up at the celing. "You would have been hurt alot wordt than I am now, that blast could have killed you."

"I am a god y/n, that blast wouldnt have caused me nearly as much damage as it did you." His voice raised slightly.

"Thats what you think. You think that because you are "immortal" that you can take anything thats thrown at you. That no one really cares about you, that you wouldnt be missed? So why not try to take a blow from a bomb? My god your so stupid sometimes."

"I know I can. Norns y/n I've jumped into space, been brain washed, tried to take over New York, gotten smashed around by the Hulk. I was raised with Thor, he doesnt really go easy on a person. What I'm saying is I dont understand why you, a mear midguardian, would sacrifice themselves for me. If anything would have happened-"

"Nothing did happen though. I'm fine-"

"You have steel sticking from your leg, theres no telling when or even if you'll be able to walk again, and there are highly server burns that will leave scares. You cannot sit there and tell me that you are fine."

"Your right it does suck that I'm jot gonna be able to pull off shorts or a bikini anymore."

"This isnt a joke y/n. You almost died!" He finally yelled.

"And i would do it a thousand times over if that ment saving your damn ass again!" You shouted back.

"Why though?! Why me y/n? I've done horrible things, killed people! My life is meaningless." Tears had sprang to his eyes as he looked away.

"Because I love you God damn it!" You stopped suddenly your jaw dropping at the admission that you hadnt ment for him to hear. His head jerked back to you.

"What?" Shock was all over his face as he stood to walk closer to you. "What did you just say?"

"Because I love you Loki Odinson. Because if you were to die I dont think I would be able to go on living. Because even if you see all the bad things that you've done I can look pass that amd see all the good that you are doing." You reached up placing a hand on his cheek and wiping away a tear.

"I love you too y/n. I have since the day I met you. The girl that didnt care what anyone said when she spent time with me. The girl that can see through every face i put on. I love you so much darling." He placed his hand on your face and leaning down gently kissing your lips.

It felt like you thought it always should you felt electricity run through your body and the two of you connected. It was like getting a breath after not being able to for so long. He pulled away smiling at you.

"What do we tell the others?" He asked laying on with bed with you being easy with your leg. He placed his arm around your middle and pulled you as close as he could.

"I honestly dont care what we tell them. They can figure it out themseves for all I care." You smiled lacing your fingers with his, you yawned placing your head on his shoulder closing your eyes.

"Sleep now my Dove, I will be here when you wake." He felt your gentle breath slow as you fell asleep, the rhythm you of your breath lulling him into his own sleep.

Tony and Bruce walked in the next morning stopping dead at the sight in front of them. You and Loki were still cuddled on the small bed sleeping peacefully.

"Should we wake them up?" Bruce asked looking at Tony.

"Na, let them sleep. Dont want to let them know that we know." Tony saod grabbing Bruce's arm and turning to walk back out of the door.

~~~~

Tag List:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki avengers #loki daily #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki request #loki masterlist #loki x you #lokilaufeyson #loki one shot #loki x y/n #loki friggason

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pilothusband · 4 years ago

Text

Abducted Amphora

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (not to an excess), food mention (they eat pizza), non-explicit tension, mentions of stealing shit, hints at a boss/employee relationship so there’s a slight power balance there, age gap that isn’t mentioned (he has years of service and she’s almost brand new)

Word count: 1,972

Author’s note: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! Lightly edited, unbeta’d. This one is pretty tame compared to my other works. Thinking about turning it into a snapshot series. Let me know what you think!

A smattering of footsteps clatter throughout the courtyard, echoing off the old walls that surround you. Sprawling greens adorn almost every inch of the balcony, reaching out to an impossibly blue pool situated in the middle. You can’t help but gawk as you walk through the museum, trailing your boss by a few paces who is currently following the curator, a middle-aged woman with bouncy curls and a wardrobe to die for.

A few minutes prior, she had introduced herself as Vanessa Harrington, given a firm handshake to the two of you, and hastily made her way to the exhibit where an expensive piece of artwork was stolen.

“What’s weird is, this isn’t even the most expensive piece the museum owns,” she says, glancing backwards and waving her hands. How she manages to walk briskly in stiletto heels without looking forwards is a mystery to you.

The stolen piece is a Panathenaic amphora from Hellenistic era Greece. It was most likely used to fill with olive oil to give to Olympic champions. Not to say it isn’t valuable, but it had sat nondescript amongst bright and flashy paintings that were incredibly rare and sought after.

“And the security cameras were disabled prior to the theft?” Your boss, Marcus Pike asks, scribbling in his notepad. Vanessa nods in confirmation. “Then they were enabled right after, as if the thieves knew how to hack into the system.”

“Either they knew how to hack into the security system or they had enough insider knowledge to disable it,” you voice your thoughts, not even aware that you were speaking out loud.

Marcus looks over to you, his warm brown eyes flicking over your face in acknowledgement.

Every time his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself freeze up for a moment. No matter that you’ve been working with him for nearly a year, it’s as if time stops every time you look at him. His jaw, square and strong, along with his soft brown eyes that give away to his emotions at any moment. His broad shoulders always manage to get your pulse going, along with his small waist, showcased by the form-fitting button downs he wore under his suit coat.

“We’re going to need all information regarding museum personnel, as well as any vendors that drop by regularly,” Marcus shifts his attention over to Vanessa, who nods decisively.

“Absolutely. I have that all on my office desktop and can get that to you ASAP.”

Vanessa doles out more details for a few minutes and Marcus jots them down– in his unreadable handwriting no doubt– and then Vanessa bids you adieu and spins on her heel to her office, giving you two free rein over the museum.

There isn’t anymore DNA evidence to go over. The local police already had their personnel collect it days prior and the scene was spotless once you arrived. The thieves had been meticulous in leaving as little evidence as possible. The only fingerprints found were already processed and pending a match. They were most likely from an employee, and there’s a good chance it was just normal prints left behind from dusting priceless artwork.

Once Vanessa is out of the room, Marcus turns and places a big hand on your bicep.

“Good job back there, agent.” He flashes an easy grin. Marcus is an incredible boss. He’s driven, observant, kind, and knows when he has to make the tough calls. He’s a natural-born leader. You haven’t been with the bureau for long, being a junior agent among a team of seasoned professionals, but comparing him to other supervisory agents you have met, he’s warm and kind, always making sure his team is in good shape. He’s the kind of guy who’s prepared for anything, whether it be backup for a shootout with an unsub or someone in the room needs a pen before a staff meeting.

You can’t help but feel flushed at his praise. Despite Marcus’ easygoing nature and his openness with the team, he always seems to keep you at an arms’ length. It was getting to the point where you were wondering if he was regretting hiring you in the first place. Marcus often rotates the team when it comes to working directly with him on cases, and you have only worked directly with him once– your first ever case.

Initially you’re convinced you fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to pair up with you afterwards, but then the case report made its way back to your desk and your evaluation was normal, good even.

“Thank you,” you reply, ducking your face down to hide the growing heat licking its way up your face.

“Let’s grab some lunch, get those files from Mrs. Harringon and start digging.”

You nod in agreement and turn, walking towards the exit. You don’t notice the subtle movement, but Marcus trails you, arm raised as if he’s about to touch your waist, but pauses halfway through and scratches at his chin.

Later on that night, you’re holed up in Marcus’ hotel room, hunched over your laptop reading up on all of the museum employees. Marcus took on the task of reading over vendor files, his shoulders set much straighter.

Your back is screaming at you and your eyes are sapped of all moisture as you blink rapidly, trying to will your tear ducts into submission. It’s too early in the night to fall asleep with the amount of work you have to look forward to, and the longer it takes you to crack the case, the more likely the thieves are to get away with the crime.

“I think we could use a break,” Marcus says from across the room. You look up blearily, noting the look of concern he’s giving you, brow furrowed. He must have caught you in your tired state somehow, between poring over files and jiggling his leg absent-mindedly.

“Can’t argue with that,” you chuckle, rubbing at your eyes.

“I’ll order room service, compliments of the bureau,” he says, smiling sideways. “I’m feeling pizza, what do you think?”

“Pizza sounds heavenly,” you groan.

“What do you want to drink?” Marcus asks, his eyes scanning over the menu unfolded next to his laptop.

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate, trying to decide on caffeine or something healthier. “I think the room has plenty of water.”

“I was thinking something a little stronger,” he says, a small grin making its way over his features. “Nothing too crazy, since we still have work to do.”

“What’s your opinion on red wine?” You ask, wanting to select something you both can agree on.

“I love it,” he says, giving you a toothy smile. “Pinot Noir?”

“Sounds perfect.”

An hour later, you’re both seated on the floor, pizza box spread open between your bodies, munching away at the slices of pepperoni you both decided on and sharing the bottle of wine Marcus ordered.

“Turns out it’s bad optics for the boss to drunkenly sing 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton off-key, and I still get teased for it to this day, which is why I refuse to join the team on karaoke nights,” Marcus finishes. You’re clutching your stomach as you laugh at his story, head thrown back as you giggle.

You’ve only had a glass and a half of wine at this point, but you can already feel a persistent buzzing in your brain, your head feeling much lighter and much heavier simultaneously. This is what you get for skipping breakfast and lunch, opting to replace them with an afternoon snack and a late dinner.

Marcus laughs along with you, shaking his head and looking down at his slice of pizza.

Your laughter dies down and there’s a moment where it’s quiet, the only noise in the room being Marcus chewing on the crust of his pizza slice, and you taking a sip from your glass.

“This is a nice change,” you blurt out, immediately regretting your outburst.

“Mmm,” Marcus hums around the bite in his mouth. He swallows and looks up at you in question.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your eyes meet after he speaks and you can feel your heartbeat accelerating in your chest. God, why did you have to open your big mouth?

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just…”

You don’t continue and Marcus shifts on his knees, leaning forwards to spur you on.

“It’s just what?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You say, studying the box of pizza below you, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Nothing you could ever say is stupid,” he says with conviction. His tone makes you look up at him in wonder.

“Tell me, please,” he adds softly.

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me. Or that you didn’t think I was a good agent.” You can feel your stomach plunging and your cheeks burning at the admission.

“Why would you think that?” Marcus almost looks hurt.

“God, it’s dumb,” you babble. “But I noticed you haven’t had me partner with you on a case in ages, and you seem to get on with the rest of the team so much easier.”

You risk another look into Marcus’ eyes and he looks absolutely crushed. He cards a hand through his locks and his eyes look far away for a moment. You physically deflate, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“Hey,” he says, scooting forward and moving the pizza box aside. “You’re an amazing agent. Everything I put in your evals are the truth.”

You don’t reply, but smile softly at him.

“I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel undervalued,” he puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. The look on his face, much closer to yours now, is absolutely putting you through the ringer.

Marcus looks disheveled, which is rare for him, as he always looks put-together in the office, not a hair or thread out of place in his tailored suits. His hair is sticking up and his tie is loosened. His brow is furrowed in concern and you have the overwhelming urge to soothe your thumb over it.

“I just–,” he starts and pauses, trying to come up with the right words. “I was so distracted during that case with you, and I never want to put you in that kind of danger again. Especially as a junior agent.”

Distracted?

“What do you mean?” You ask, blinking in confusion. What could have possibly distracted him from the case? This man, so motivated, so focused. He was diligent to a fault, at times.

“I–”

He’s cut off by his cell phone, ringing insistently in his pants pocket. He lifts a finger to pause the conversation and answers the phone.

His expression is focused as he listens to the other end of the line, murmuring affirmations as the call continues.

“Okay, sounds good. We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

He hangs up the phone, shifts his legs and stuffs it back in his pocket.

“We’ve got a lead on the suspects,” he tells you. “A bodega near the museum has a security camera that caught a large utility van parked in front, right around the time the amphora was stolen. The owner said they’re only available to talk before they open, so we have to be there by 5:30 AM.”

You scramble to your feet and shut your laptop while Marcus clears the pizza and wine. You watch him silently as he finishes the task, noting his stiff shoulders and the carefully neutral expression on his face.

You’ll have to ask Marcus about the conversation later, if you can work yourself up to it. For now, you’ll let your imagination run wild and hope someday you can get over this juvenile crush you have on your boss.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov @sheresh0y @greeneyedblondie44 @blackmarketmummy @brandyllyn @gracie7209 @bootyliciousbilbo @dobbyjen @vanillabeanlattes @knivesareout @fastandfeminist @phrog-seeds @janebby @xoxo-callie

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #writer wednesday #marcus pike fanfiction

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autumnsart22 · 4 years ago

Text

A Dream Come True: Shigaraki x Dabi x Reader part 1/2

So my friend wrote this fic but she didn’t have anywhere to post it so we decided to share it here! All creds go to her 🤪

I’ll post part 2 tomorrow, which is when it gets spicyyyy

“Y/N I am leaving for the night. You know what to do and your paycheck is on the desk in my office.”

And with those final words, a cheeky wink, and the slam of the back door, your boss stalked out of the empty bar. He wasn’t a bad person but a lousy boss and an even lousier business owner. Most of the liquor went into his morning, afternoon, or evening coffee sometimes forgoing the coffee altogether. You overheard some of the other workers in the area saying that this place was gonna go under pretty soon. Even without the boss’s nasty habit of drinking the alcohol, you’re are in a part of town that doesn’t attract many people. On a busy night you might have three or four people come in for a lonely drink. It was a lonely place and a lonely job but it was easy work and the boss always seemed to pay you more than what the job is worth. Just another poor business practice.

Tonight had been the same as usual. You came into work at 6 and set up the bar for opening at 6:30. It wasn’t until 9:45 that another soul entered the bar. He was one of the usuals and it was nice having another human being to chat with while you fixed his drink. He made the routine comments about how you’re still young and shouldn't be working in a run down place like this, and you gave him the same answer as always that you were saving up to finish school, and that it was a fine job. When he left it was back to mindless wiping of surfaces and organizing the glasses and no one to talk to. It was 11:30 now and no one else had entered the bar, but that was normal. It was almost closing time now, and the boss never minded if you shut down 15 minutes early.

You were locking up the liquor, back turned to the rest of the bar when two male voices came from the front door. That’s weird you didn’t hear the door. They seemed to be arguing, and one of them seemed to be in pain based on his frequent groans and strained voice.

“Sorry we’re closing up for the night.” you yelled, continuing the shuffling of bottles.

“And who in the hell are you?”

You had heard that voice before, but that was insane, just a coincidence. However at that moment you felt an arm roughly grab around your waist and a strong lock around your wrists violently pushing them into your back.

“OUCH! WHAT THE HELL?!”

You were violently pushed around, body finally turned to see the man that wasn’t currently restraining you from behind. If this was some dumb cartoon your jaw would have touched the floor. What the hell was going on? All logical thought swept from your brain. How could this be? This man could not be standing in front of you. No you’re dreaming. You must be. You fell asleep at work and you’re dreaming. Okay. Okay. You just need to wake yourself up. Yeah that's it. You tried pinching yourself but you couldn’t move your hands out of the tight grip. The only unrestrained part of your body were your legs. You violently landed a kick to your left shin.

“FUCKING SHIT!!” Was that supposed to hurt that much in a dream?

“If that was aimed at me, you’re pathetic” The deep voice behind you chuckled lightly at the self inflicted kick. You felt the reverberations of the low tone where your body was pressed against his. You knew that voice too! You looked down at the arm still gripping threateningly around your waist. Charred skin ran all the way down to the hand where a ring of staples held it to viable flesh. Oh my god. This can’t be happening. You continued to violently kick yourself, closing your eyes tightly before opening them again, persistently trying to wake yourself up and make sense of this situation.

“Hey. Hey. Hey quit squirming” You felt a leg separating your own, preventing you from further abuse to your shins. The arm around your waist tightened in support since your legs started to give out.

“Crusty come help me out I think she’s gonna faint”

When you opened your eyes, the lights of the bar were harsh against your blurry vision and foggy brain.

“That was a weird dream. What time is it?” you wondered aloud, looking up for the clock on the wall.

“And she’s back, and this isn’t a dream sweetheart.” the deep voice sent a shock down your spine.

No way. Your eyes darted to the two men standing next to the bar. It was only then you realized you were slumped awkwardly in one of the leather chairs scattered throughout the room, ropes replacing the rough hands from earlier.

“Now as I asked you before? Who the hell are you?” This time it was the scratchy voice that shot at you. The familiar lanky form of Tomura Shigaraki was leaning against the bar, this time the edges of his frame curved into shadow and his height adding much more presence than what you could have imagined.

“You… you’re Tomura Shigaraki” you stuttered in shock.

“I asked for your name girl, not mine. Now spit it out” He barked impatiently.

“I-I-mm Y-yy-/N-nn”

“What are you doing here?” He shot again.

“I-I work here” Eyes darting between the two men you’ve studied so closely before, but always through a screen. This can’t be real. They can’t be real. It was rather ironic how defiant your mind was being to the presence of two men you had spent hours watching, reading, and fantasizing about but this was insane.

“No you don’t.” Shigaraki’s voice becoming more and more impatient with your slow and stupid answers.

“This bar has been closed for years.” Dabi stated flatly as though proving you’re lying.

“I can’t believe this. This has to be a dream” you started mumbling to yourself quickly trying to understand how this was reality.

“HEY! This isn’t a dream, you stupid girl! Now tell us why you're in our bar!”

“You’re Tomura Shigaraki and you’re Dabi from My Hero Academia” you started calming down and succumbing to the fact that this was happening even if you were going crazy. Two villains from an anime you watch are standing in front of you seemingly real.

“From wha–– oh nevermind. What’s your quirk?” Shigraki continued to shoot questions at you but none of his words could cut through the hurricane of questions storming through your brain.

“How are you guys real? How are you guys here?”

“I am the one asking questions here. Now tell me what your quirk is?” He said annoyedly, starting to scratch his neck.

“I don’t have a quirk. No one here does”

“What are you talking about? Nearly everyone has a quirk.” Dabi questioned coldly.

“This is the real world. There are no such things as quirks here.” You continued finally allowing yourself to come to the ludacris idea that this was in fact reality.

“Very funny. Dabi what do you say we just kill her?” Shigaraki said with a sadistic grin evident behind the hand, taking a step closer to you. Dabi shrugged leaning against the bar, an air of unamusement lingering in his face.

“WAIT...wait...What if I can prove to you that this is a different reality?”

“Well go on then prove it” Shigraki teased continuing his advance on you.

“You’re Tomura Shigaraki leader of the League of Villains ––”

“Blah Blah everyone knows that” He said annoyed now looming over you, his deadly hands reaching out.

Closing your eyes and turning away from him, you continued to spurt out facts, waiting to be turned into ash.

“Your real name is Tenko Shimura, the hand on your face you refer to as father, you…”

SLAP! Your face stung but your body still seemed to be intact. When you dared to open your eyes, Shigraki’s face was inches from yours, murderous crimson glaring at you from between the fingers of his mask. Pinned into the chair between his two arms gripping the armrests, you were trapped.

“How do you know that?” He said through clenched teeth.

“You’re a character from an anime I watch. I’ve watched you guys for months”

“Liar. You must have hacked us or stolen or….” You could tell he was trying to figure out how you knew information that isn’t in any record or known by anyone.

“I promise. I didn’t do any of that. I am telling the truth.” you continued to plead.

“What about me? Do you know shit about me?” Dabi didn’t seem to be convinced.

“Ummm...Well I know your name is Touya Todoroki and you’re the oldest son of Endeavor and...

“You’re the son of Endeavor?” Shigaraki standing up and looking at him revolted.

“Hey I didn’t say that. She did.” Dabi seemed pissed behind the flat face.

“Okay but SHE seems to know everything about us so…”

“Fine. What do we do then? Kill her?” Dabi asked.

“Fine by me.” Shigaraki shrugs. You stared helplessly as the blue haired man turned back to you still tied in the chair.

“Wait! I know information about other people. I’ll tell you everything I know please”

“Sorry, but I’ve made up my mind”

The excitement was evident in his scratchy voice as he violently grabbed your face smushing your cheeks together uncomfortably. Shigaraki’s cold fingers dug into your skin, nails sharp and ragged. You could see his pointer finger still raised in your field of vision. You shut your eyes tightly as he slowly brought his pointer finger down to meet his others. You waited for something to happen. Were you already dead? Was it that simple? You opened an eye when you felt Shigaraki’s nails dig further into your skin. He was still standing in front of you with his hand still on your face, just as confused as you were on why you weren’t a pile of ash.

“I guess your quirks were erased when...”

SLAP! Where his hand had laid flat moments before was now red and stinging as he landed his second blow to your face tonight.

“Scar face any fire?” he shot, standing up straight again and turning towards Dabi.

“Nope. I am just as useless as you” Dabi returned.

You could see the annoyance fuming in Shigaraki’s eyes as the realization that what you had been stating was true. He was currently stuck in a different dimension with no quirks. You let out a sigh of relief, glad that you didn’t have to be worried about being turned into ash by either men.

“Alright brat” Shigaraki hissed turning back to you. “ What were you saying about information?”

“Well like I said before. You two are characters in an anime in this universe, and that means I know just as much about other characters... I mean other people in your universe. Of course not everything but just what’s been released”

“An anime you say. What’s this show called?”

“Um…” You hesitated knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer”

“Spit it out”

“My Hero Academia”

“Tch. Of fucking course it’s about the heros.” He said the last word with such disdain that it oozed onto the floor.

“Let me guess. All Might is the main character?”

“Well not exactly.”

“Then who the fuck is it?”

“Well….Izuku Midoriya”

“That annoying little green haired brat is the main character?! What makes him so special?”

“Well that’s kind of a long story and the whole premise of the show”

“Well we’ve got time, and we need to figure out how in the hell we got here and how the fuck we’re gonna get back, so keep talking”

“Fine, but first untie me.”

“What did you say?” Shigaraki questioned. A small chuckle came from Dabi who was now playing with the toothpicks you used in drinks, lazily moving them around with his hands, one already perched between his teeth.

“I told you to untie me” You were gaining some confidence since you realized you had the upper hand.

“There are no quirks here and I have no intent on trying to deceive you two, believe me I know what you’re capable of ” They could still harm you in many ways but you were a source of information and someone who understood their situation.

“So if you would please untie me. I promise to help you” At this point you surmised that they had somehow been warped here by someone else’s quirk either in or after some kind of fight. Shigaraki had a growing bloodstain seeping through his jeans, and Dabi had some deep cuts and few staples loose. Dabi and Shigaraki looked at eachother deciding whether or not to trust me.

“Look” You said exasperatedly. You were starting to lose feeling in one of your legs that was pressed awkwardly underneath you, and your shoulders becoming sore from the awkward angle of your arms. “I don’t know how you are here or why it was me you happened to run into, but you need help and are you really gonna try and explain this situation to someone else?”

“She’s right you know” Dabi said casually to Shigaraki who was obviously trying to come up with an excuse to hurt you.

“Fine. Go utie her”

With a heavy sigh Dabi slid off his stool dropping the toothpicks in his hand, the one still pursed between his lips moving idly as he chewed on it. He stalked over to you as Shigaraki sat on a stool at the bar from the growing pain in his leg. Dabi came up in front of you, and you couldn’t help but flush at how close he was. You thought back to the copious amounts of fanfic you’ve read as he reached around you to untie the rope. He was so close you could feel his breath on your neck and hear him chewing on the toothpick. He smelled of worn cologne with a musky yet slightly minty scent mixed with what you presume to be the scent of charred flesh. Once you were free and he was no longer in your personal space, you rubbed your wrists standing up trying to get blood flow back to your legs.

“Thanks” you say casually to Dabi as he walks back over resuming his seat at the bar next to Shigaraki. He doesn’t respond.

You start to walk towards the door at the side of the bar that leads to the boss’s office and the back room where you keep your stuff.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Shigaraki asks sliding off his stool threateningly, but he nearly stumbles when he lands on his ill leg.

“Don’t worry I am just going to grab my stuff”

“Dabi go with her”

“No. She’s not gonna go anywhere. Besides if this is anything like the bar then that room has no exit”

“Tch–” was Shigaraki’s only response. You take this as a concession and push open the door to the back room. When the door closes, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Dabi and Shigaraki from MHA were real and standing in the room next door. And you were going to help them?! Did that make you technically a villain? How were you supposed to figure out how to get them back? Did you want them to go back? After all you had dreamt of scenarios similar to this many times. Maybe if you figured it out could you go with them? That thought alone was enough to make your simp dreams explode. What weeb gods had blessed you?

Your brain was racing as you gathered your sweatshirt and bag. You popped quickly into the office attached to the back of the room to grab your paycheck. Like you suspected, he gave you a random bonus but you weren’t complaining. You stuffed it into your bag and walked back towards the bar. You took a deep breath before pushing open the door, half expecting to be met with an empty room, but there they were, talking in hushed tones. They immediately stopped when they heard you come back.

“Are you going somewhere?” Shigaraki asked, noticing your bag as you pulled on your sweatshirt.

“This place closed over 20 minutes ago and unless you want the other business owners around here to come poking around, since I always close on time, we should head out”

“And where exactly are WE going?” Dabi asked boredly, staring off at the ceiling.

“I live about six blocks from here. Think you can make it? I have first aid shit at my place” You directed the last part towards Shigaraki.

“Tch-”

“I will take that as a yes.” you said as you turned off the decorative lighting around the bar, and locked the register. You walked towards the front door and you heard the two men shuffle around to follow you. You open the door letting them walk out in front of you. Shutting off the main lights shrouding the bar into complete darkness cept the bright green exit sign above the door, you locked the bar door and turned to see Dabi and Shigaraki looking around at the buildings surrounding the bar. Shigaraki had stowed father into his pocket and Dabi popped up the collar of his jacket to try and obscure some of his scars. You also glanced around taking in the familiar scenery. You never really noticed how similar it was to the shots in MHA. Weird.

Anyways you can think about that later. You started the route back to your house the two men trailing closely behind you whether it was for their own comfort or to make sure you didn’t try to bolt, you didn’t know but you felt much safer with these two with you. Normally you would walk quickly, key in hand, always crossing the street to whichever side had the most light, but tonight you didn’t worry too much about the potential danger lurking on the streets. All of them seemed miniscule to the two men behind you.

You walked in complete silence for the majority of the time. You had so many questions but all of them could wait till you got home. I am sure they have just as many questions for you. You could hear Shigaraki grunt in pain every once in a while, walking becoming harder as time went on. You were about a block away coming up on the small 24 hour grocery/convenience store where you frequently bought snacks and food on your way home from work.

“Hey I need to quickly grab some stuff. I don’t have much food at home. Are you guys hungry?”

Neither responded.

“Okay then.” Neither one objected as you turned into the small parking lot walking up to the store. They both followed you inside like two overgrown shadows. You grabbed a basket and started making your way through the isles grabbing essentials like milk and cheese.

“Feel free to grab some stuff if it catches your eye. There’s Soba cups down that aisle and Shigaraki there’s chips and other snacks there too. I just need to grab something over here” you say pointing towards the other direction. Dabi and Shigaraki glance at each other and stalk off together.

“You know it's getting rather annoying how she knows all this stuff about us” You catch Shigaraki telling Dabi as you turn to go grab all the other items you need. When you return they’re both there, bags of chips and soba cups in hand. It was rather cute how they stood there waiting for you to return. You walked up to the counter to check out and once Dabi and Shigaraki dropped their haul for you to pay, they walked outside to wait for you.

“Good Morning Y/N”

“Oh. Hey Thomas” you say to the cashier you’ve come to know over the many late night trips. He always amused himself by saying good morning whenever you came in after midnight.

“Who were the two guys with you? They seem kinda rough. Is everything alright?” he finished scanning your items as you handed over your card.

“Oh haha. Don’t worry they’re some family friends. They came to visit me while they’re passing through”

“Oh alright then. Well I hope you have a good morning” He said with a cheery smile.

“Good morning” you returned, resistantly. You grabbed the bags of groceries and waved to Thomas, pushing the door open and stepping outside scanning for Dabi and Shigaraki.

You spot them leaning against the side of the store watching some teens try and pick a redbox movie.

“We only have a block to go,” you told them as they stood up straight to follow you.

“Woah!!! Jamie look that dude is dressed up as Dabi!”

We turned to see one of the teens staring at Dabi.

“Look at the guy next to him! That’s the best Shiggy I’ve seen”

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing. The look on Shigaraki’s face at a random teen calling him Shiggy was priceless. If only these kids knew. Dabi continued walking down the parking lot and Shigaraki looked like he was about to murder someone.

“Hey do you think we could get a picture with you guys?” one of the teens asked walking towards Shigaraki.

Oh no bad idea.

“Hey guys. Not tonight. Sorry” You intervened quickly, shooting Shigaraki a look that said don’t do it. He seemed to understand because he started to walk towards where Dabi was waiting.

“Aww man. Shigaraki’s my favorite character. Tell them amazing costumes.”

“Will do” you said with a smile and turned to walk towards where the two men were waiting for you.

The rest of the walk had an air of impatience as you all wanted to just get to your destination. You had finally made it to your apartment, unlocking the door and stepping inside. It was a fairly new building so the apartment was rather nice however it was one of the smallest models. There was only one bed and bath but the open concept living room and kitchen made it feel rather spacious. You walked into the kitchen putting away all the groceries as Dabi and Shigaraki looked around surveying your apartment.

“Feel free to make yourselves at home. I’ll grab my first aid stuff. There’s food and drink in the kitchen”

You walked down the hall to your room kicking off your shoes and taking off your sweatshirt. You grabbed the rather large first aid kit from the bathroom and brought it back into the main room. Both Dabi and Shigaraki had shed their jackets and seemed to have found some left over beers in your fridge. Dabi was sitting on the kitchen counter and Shigaraki was sitting at the dining room table, prodding at the wound on his leg.

“Don’t touch it. That's only gonna make it worse” you told him.

“Oh shut up. Don’t tell me what to do” he hissed.

“Fine I guess I’ll fix Dabi up first”

Shigaraki shoots Dabi a look of incredulity and annoyance, to which Dabi only raises his eyebrows and shrugs as he takes another swig of his beer. You set down the first aid kit and grab the extra stuff you bought at the store.

“Do you even know how to do first aid?” Dabi asks, watching you rummage for supplies.

“Yes. I had to get certified in order to work at a summer camp, so don’t worry I know what I’m doing. Although I’m not much help if it’s anything more than stitches. Of course unless you’re drowning or need CPR”

“Okay I get it” he said, taking another sip.

“Can you roll up your sleeves so I can see the cuts?” You turned to dampen a towel in the sink, and when you turned back around you were not expecting to be faced with a shirtless Dabi. You paused for a second, staring, before you heard Shigaraki ‘tch’ snapping you out of simp shock. You shook your head and started to address the wounds to Dabi’s arm and shoulder.

“(another name that’s close to Y/N) it’s time you answered some of my questions” Shigaraki said while sipping on his beer and propping his leg up on another chair.

“ It’s Y/N. Also if your gonna put your feet up at least take off your shoes”

“Whatever Princess” he said snarkily, dramatically kicking off his shoes. It took you a second to register the pet name he had just called you. No get your mind out of the gutter this is the real them, not the fanon fanfiction them. You continued to wipe away the dirt and grime surrounding Dabi’s wounds.

“So... we were recognized earlier by those stupid kids. Just how popular is this show you say we’re from”

“Umm that’s kinda hard to say since it’s within a specific genre but within that genre I’d say very popular, maybe one of the most currently”

“How do we fit into this show?”

“Well you’re the main antagonist as the leader of the League of Villains. The show introduces you through the USJ attack in season 1”

“What about me?” Dabi asks.

“Oh.. well you don’t come in till season 3 I think. Wait actually I think it’s the end of season 2 after the Hosu incident”

A small chuff came from Shigaraki, no doubt in whatever pride there was in being a more prominent character.

“Do you guys have any idea how you got to this world?” You asked.

“Hey I’m asking the questions here, but no. We were on an important recruiting mission when it turned ugly. I called for Kurogiri and we ran through his portal and you know the rest”

“Did you know any of the quirks you were battling against?”

“One guy had a weak poison quirk but I took him out in the beginning.” Dabi stated flatly.

“The two guys in front both had strength related quirks I think,” Shigaraki continued.

“There was that one tall girl in the back behind the pillar. Could have been hers but who knows”

“Hmmm….maybe somehow a quirk mixed with Kurogiri’s. Sorry this next part might sting a little” You said this last part to Dabi dabbing some rubbing alcohol onto the cuts to which he made no verbal reaction but his muscles tensed at the cold stinging.

“So you said the main character was the green haired brat right? So what’s the plot as you say? Why is it all about him and the heroes?”

You pause for a moment thinking. Is it okay to tell him this? He is a villain. Are there consequences to other characters?

“Hello?”

“Sorry...um basically the show starts with All Might choosing him to be his successor as the number one hero. Then it follows him through his path from being weak and quirkless to his journey through UA. That’s when you guys come in as the villains with all your attacks on the school and students”

“What do you mean quirkless? Green top has an annoyingly powerful quirk.” Dabi questions.

“Yeah… he defeated Muscular and that Overhaul bastard” Shigaraki continues.

Screw it.

“Well All Might gave his quirk to Midoriya”

Shigaraki’s eyes widened in interest, but kept silent in his thought process.

A few minutes pass in silence and you finish patching up Dabi and handing him a mirror so he can fix his own staples. He claimed to be pretty good at it now. You move the first aid stuff over to the table where Shigaraki sat.

“Your turn” you say looking down at his leg. He looked up at you defiantly.

“What are you not wearing boxers? Or do you not want me to treat it?” You said pulling a chair to where his leg was resting. He rolled his eyes but stood up and undid his belt and pulled down his black jeans. He was wearing red boxers that looked a size too big as they hung loosely around his lean muscles. You made sure not to stare after being caught earlier. You started to repeat the same process you did on Dabi but Shigaraki was much more vocal about the discomfort you caused as you cleaned the wound.

“You’re cut is deeper. It’s gonna need stitches if you want it to heal properly”

“Whatever” he said in response.“I wanna know more about how people here see us. That kid back there said I was his favorite character. How do people see us in the show”

“Well it depends. Everyone has their favorite characters for different reasons”

“Yea...yea.. answer the question”

“Fine. Most people like you as a villain and as a character. However you’re seen as childish.” A chuckle from Dabi that earned him a death glare. “Dabi you’re more popular and your past is a rather hot topic for fans. However both of you are pretty popular in the fandom. Does that answer your question.”

“What do you mean popular in the fandom?”

“Well you know like fan theories, fanart, fanfiction, etc. A lot of people like you guys. However a lot of it is fan theories, guesses, and headcanons, but people don’t actually know” you said threading the needle for the stitches.

“What kind of theories?” Shigaraki asks hesitantly

“Well for example for a long time it wasn’t actually stated that Dabi was the missing Todoroki child but fans believed it so much that it was basically thought of as fact, and then it became truth. Other theories are less intense like Dabi again for example is presumed that his favorite food is hot soba and yours is junk food or hand food like chips and stuff.”

“How the fuck do you people figure these things out?” Shigaraki asked, wincing at the pinch of the needle.

“Well the food thing was because you have the thing with hands so hand food”

“That’s so stupid” He hissed.

“But is it wrong?” You asked, already knowing the answer based on the grocery trip.

“Tch––”

“Why hot soba for patchwork overthere?”

“Oh because it was revealed that Todoroki, I mean Shoto’s favorite food is cold soba and the whole brothers thing. People connected dots”

“That’s so stupid” Dabi was the one who spoke this time.

“And again were they wrong?” You looked up at him raising your eyebrows knowingly.

“Also those aren’t even the stupid ones. People make up the weirdest shit, some as jokes, others as forms of comfort or just for imagination’s sake. Okay you’re all done.” You say standing up and clearing away the dirty gauze and other first aid supplies. Shigaraki pulls his dirty and bloodstained pants back up over his neatly bandaged leg. You take all the first aid stuff back to the bathroom and return a little bit later to find Shigaraki and Dabi arguing over who knows what. You hear some words like ‘She’ and ‘think’, so you assume they’re talking about you but just as before they stop when you walk back into the room.

“So I set out some towels in the bathroom along with some old clothes my ex boyfriend and my brother left here. They may not be the best fit sorry but it’ll do. If you leave your clothes in the laundry basket I’ll throw them in the wash tomorrow”

“I call dibs on the shower first” Dabi said, hopping off the counter.

“Bastard” Shigaraki muttered.

#shigaraki #dabi x shigaraki #shigaraki x dabi #my hero academia #my hero #shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #shigaraki x dabi x reader #anime #fanfiction #fandom

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