#and the getting life threatening injuries in the abdomen thing i guess…
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whiscey · 26 days ago
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back from disappearing for months to say that the parallels between yingdu arc ep 1 and banana fish are Destroying me
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cal-daisies-and-briars · 3 months ago
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new key!!! 🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲magical au hoh buck?? yes pls 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 need more shannon in my life thank you!! 🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕buck & bobby and eddie & chim???????????????? say less ⚡⚡⚡⚡and to help you with this one
HELL YEAH! Let's go!
30 for 🌲:
---
A two word sentence is actually rather articulate these days. 
“I was just calling, because… Well, we had a sort of hard call at work this week. With a kid - a teenager, just a little bit older than you, and… I just miss you, I guess. And I wanted to check in.”
Eddie is expecting Christopher’s usual wall of stony apathy in response, but instead, he gets something different. Some sort of emotion. Chris’ mouth twitches. His eyes dart around, searching for a response.
“I…” He trails off. “Uh, what happened on the call?” 
Whoa.
Okay, damn. A question. An honest to god question.
“Weston,” Eddie says. “He’s on his high school’s cheer team. At a game, a football player crashed into him, and he fell and broke his pelvis really badly.”
Chris winces. “Ow.” 
“Yeah, he was in a lot of pain,” Eddie says. “But he’s a trooper. He’ll be okay.”
“That’s good,” Chris says. “Will he still be able to cheer?” 
“I don’t know yet,” Eddie admits. “I hope so. Seemed like he was pretty good at it.”
---
39 for 🔼:
---
Probably not a great time to process. There is, potentially, more blood in his dick than his head at the current moment. But, overall, Buck thinks the current makeout is sort of significant for several reasons. First being, it’s Eddie. Eddie Diaz. His best friend. Who is married with a wife. A wife that also kissed Buck. It bears saying that Buck is fairly certain he never kissed any married people before he met them. Now he’s kissed his way through a whole legal union. But also, Eddie is a guy. A man. Historically, Buck doesn’t kiss men. 
To be honest, at this juncture, Buck isn’t sure why he hasn’t kissed men before. Because honestly? This is sort of great. Eddie’s hands are big and strong and a little calloused and it’s sort of thrilling. Buck has him pressed against the door now, but Buck knows Eddie could flip him around and take control just as easily. He smells good. Like cedar. Buck thinks he’d like to kiss him until he runs out of oxygen.
Unfortunately, Eddie doesn’t seem to think that’s a good plan.
“Wait,” he pants, breaking the kiss. “Wait, Buck.”
Crushed, Buck steps back. He drops his hands to his side. His lips are still buzzing. 
“Sorry,” he blurts.
“What? No, don’t be sorry,” Eddie says. “I just… I have to pick up Chris soon.”
“Oh,” Buck exhales. “Right.”
Right. Other things exist. 
---
39 for 🤕:
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“Only parts of it,” Bobby says. “But, listen… I need you to free me, carefully. You can’t be doing too much, okay? I can’t have you hurting yourself worse.”
“And we don’t want to cause further collapse,” Buck reasons.
“That too,” Bobby agrees. “Start with my arms, then I can help.”
“Okay,” Buck says. 
Carefully, Buck gets to work cutting the pinned fabric of Bobby’s turnout coat from the fallen rebar, and removing any other debris on top of him. Bobby winces at one point. There’s probably a small injury, some bruising or a sprain. Nothing life threatening, Buck would guess. But, then again… Bobby thinks he has a brain injury. Maybe he shouldn’t be guessing anything at all. 
Within a minute or so, they’re able to get to a place where Bobby can prop himself up a bit more on his elbows. 
“Okay,” he tells Buck. “I can feel my legs enough to help you, I think. I’ll push up, and all you need to do is hold the concrete up long enough for me to slip out.”
“Alright,” Buck says. “Got it.”
“Count of three, okay?” Bobby prepares him. 
“Okay.”
Buck gets a firm grip on the edges of the concrete slab over Bobby’s legs. 
“Okay, three… Two… One…”
Bobby grunts as he pushes the slab upward. Buck lifts, body twisted so that the majority of effort is concentrated in his abdomen. A stab of pain cries out from his gut.
“I’m free, I’m moving,” Bobby says. “Hold on.”
Bobby shimmies out, hissing in pain as he does.
The moment he’s clear, Buck drops the slab with a hefty exhale. His gloved hand flies to his stomach, to the source of the pain. 
---
12 for ⚡:
---
Determined to get to the bottom of his feelings - and whether or not they’re justified - he talks to Bobby. He’s always been able to talk to Bobby. That’s nothing new. But ever since they actually talked out everything between them - their place in each other’s lives - it feels even more natural. Like, duh? Obviously he should bring everything to Bobby. Especially if it involves Bobby’s future grandchild.
He tells Bobby everything in his office during a slower shift at work, the day before Eddie has arranged for them to meet Lourdes with Pepa. Bobby listens quietly as Buck explains his position. 
“Am I being an asshole?” Buck asks. “Because it sort of feels like my opinion is like… Crappy?”
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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 3 years ago
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Revenge | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hi, friends! this was a request and I CANT REMEMBER if it was from an anon or not- so if you sent this in not anonymously please lemme know :)
It's similar to Nothing Fucks With My Baby but I honestly am such a slut for this kind of storyline so I had to write it.
Send me your comments, requests, and/ or submissions! 🥰
Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @glxwingrxse @psychoticmason @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @lonewolf471 💘
Warning: canon level violence, reader injury, blood
------------------------------------
Bucky sprinted through corridor after corridor, the red flashing lights giving everything a hint of foreboding. He could hear Nat in his ear, screaming at him to get his ass out to the jet, but he couldn't leave just yet- not without you. "Barnes, I know she's your girl but we gotta go. I'm sure she'll be out in a sec", Hill stated, "she knows what she's doing." Bucky had made his way to the jet just ten minutes earlier and waited for you to join him, but he kept his eyes trained on the door and never saw you the Hydra base. He knew you were a more than capable agent, but you were his girl, and he had a feeling that something wasn't right. Against Maria's wishes, he'd run back into the building in search of the love of his life.
His eyes meticulously scanned every inch of the base until he found a trail. Crimson streaks painted the floor, making Bucky's chest ache. He followed the bloody mess and became only more horrified as he noticed the splotches getting bigger and bigger. Finally, he turned the corner and his heart dropped. Slumped up against the wall, you clutched your side with red stained hands. Your face was slick with blood oozing from your temple and the French braids Nat had so lovingly put in your hair were coated scarlet.
"Hey, hey, baby. Hey, look at me", slowly, you opened your eyes and made them focus. Bucky's hands shook as he reached down to your abdomen to appraise your wound, praying it was something you could come back from. "I'm fine, Buck. I promise, I just-" you took a sharp inhale as Bucky's touch sent pain radiating from your injury, "It's just a graze wound..." Your broken ribs throbbed at the sudden influx of breath, making you hiss. As badly as you wanted to try and hide your pain from Bucky, you simply didn’t have the energy. Making him worry was the last thing you wanted to do, but as you sat against the wall, bleeding with no end in sight, all you could focus on was not passing out.
He brought his hand to your face and carefully looked at the gash on your head, as well as the developing black eye. "Who did this to you?" he growled. You attempted a chuckle, but a stabbing pain from your injured ribs stopped you in your tracks, "I'll give you one guess..."
Rumlowe.
Brock Rumlowe had had it out for you ever since you rejected his advances, but doubled down on his hatred when he'd found out you were with Bucky. He'd made you uncomfortable when he was still working at Shield, but after he went full Hydra, he became a monster. He'd threatened your life too many times to count, and always promised he'd get back at you. He'd held a gun to your head and a knife to your throat on several occasions just to scare you-and Bucky, too. Rumlowe hated Bucky for turning against Hydra, vowing to one day get even with the ex-assassin. A violent rage flooded Bucky's body, urging him to find Rumlowe and rip his head from his body, but he knew he had to keep it together for you.
"Okay, sweets. I got you", Bucky assured you. As gently as he could, Bucky scooped you into his arms and carried you toward the exit as a vermillion river trickled down his hand. He boarded the quinjet with you in his protective grasp, shooting Nat and Maria a 'told you so' sort of look. The med team swarmed your bloody body and ordered Bucky away, much to your dismay. Your sticky hand reached out for his but found nothing, and your eyes began scanning the room for him. "B-Buck?" you murmured weakly. The med team shushed you and gave you a dose of IV pain meds, sending you into a fuzzy darkness.
Bucky once again ran from the jet and into the Hydra base, prompting more protest from Nat and Maria. He paid their angry voices no mind, his laser focus set on one thing and one thing only. He ripped open door after door as he hunted for Rumlowe like a predator searching for its prey. An all too familiar voice send shockwaves of fury through Bucky's chest as he turned the corner to find Rumlowe giving commands to a team of Hydra operatives.
Without hesitation he flew at Rumlowe with a knife, wounding him in the abdomen so quickly that Rumlowe hadn't even clocked it. He didn't even seem to care that he was bleeding, only adding to the wrath coursing through Bucky's veins. "Barnes!" Brock called with a dark laugh, "long time no see, Soldat". Rumlowe knew just how intensely Bucky hated being called soldat, clocking the twitch of his lip as the word rolled off Brock's tongue. "What? You here for your revenge, soldat?" Rumlowe taunted.
Bucky launched himself at a cocky Rumlowe, wanting nothing more than to kill him where he stood. The two went at each other with terrifying speed and accuracy unmatched by anyone else, knives slashing at their bodies with intense agility-but Brock was no match for Bucky. He was left in a pile on the floor, bleeding from an indeterminate number of knife wounds. "That's for my girl..." Bucky muttered as he stalked out of the room, anxious to get back to you.
When you woke up back at the compound, your eyes fell upon Bucky's blood spattered vibranium hand. You weren't sure who the blood belonged to, but you knew it wasn't just yours. "Buck?" you whispered, groaning as you ran headfirst into a wall of pain. His eyes snapped down to meet yours and a look of relief washed over his features. "Hey, doll," he murmured, "how are you feeling?" He brushed a stray hair from your face with his bloody hand, suddenly retracting it when he noticed the gore.
"Whose blood is that...?" you realized your question was pointless as the obvious answer danced in the back of your head. Bucky gave a little chuckle and shot you a wink, "I'll give you one guess". You wanted so badly to disapprove, to tell Bucky that revenge was never the answer- but you resolved to let this one slide. "I had to, sweets. I couldn't let him get away with that..." Bucky murmured, "no one hurts my girl".
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shieldedreams · 3 years ago
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out of line (into my arms) (s.r.)
summary ⇾ a mission that goes awry, leaves captain america furious at you... though, it soon shows steve rogers’ true feelings for you. details ⇾ 4,933 words / steve rogers x avenger!reader / 🌸 ☔️ a bit angsty but soft ending bc... me :”) / bestfriend!bruce x reader + platonic nat x steve notes ⇾ a bunch of feelings because... well because. :-) [!] mentions of injury, blood / reader is like a mix of scientist and spy / that cheesy trope of confessing while someone’s asleep (and they’re actually not) ✨
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every single nerve in your body was telling you to stop–that this could cost your life, should you make one wrong move–but it also felt like the only thing to do. past the yells and screams flooding the communication, you lock eyes with natasha who gives you a small nod; similar thoughts as you that someone needed to do something, or die trying.
she gives you the boost you need to lunge across to the other building, crashing through the glass in the process. you hear steve’s stern reprimanding, tony’s soft mutter of show off and your own voice yelling for them to: “shut up! i can’t think!”
the bomb could go off any minute. instead of being able to clear your mind to think straight, the loud bickering in your ear is making your anxiety skyrocket. if this is your last moment alive, you’d definitely come back to haunt their asses. tony’s trying to tell you what to do past steve’s yelling for you to get out of the building, along with natasha trying to get them to pipe it down. altogether, it stresses you out so much that you yank the earpiece and toss it to the side.
the wires are all messed up and there’s no way to figure things out just by looking at it. trying to calm yourself down, you start with a deep breath. then, you fish out a decryptor tool to start hacking through the system while analyzing which wires to cut off. when there’s a soft beep from your tool along with the color that coordinates to the right wire–the timer ticks down to five, four, three–you quickly detach it and suck in a breath.
the numbers threatening to count down, flickers to a stop just as it reaches three. guess you’re living for another day. sighing in relief, you reach for the earpiece. the line is surprisingly quiet as you manage a patchy: “it’s done. bomb’s off.”
you don’t wait for further instructions, switching off the headpiece as you make your way out. once inside the lift, you gaze to your abdomen. at the light reflection, you’re hissing at the glass shard that penetrates your flesh, past your black suit. after a moment of inspection, it’s nothing life threatening but it’s a bad sting as you remove it and press pressure to your wound with one hand.
just as you make it out onto the pavement, the harsh grip on your arm triggers your fight mode, hands releasing from your wound to–”what the hell?”
“are you out of your god damned mind?!” steve’s voice penetrates your ear, the loudness of it digging into your eardrums. his normal bright blue eyes, dark with anger, disappointment. he tightens his hold on you, almost to the point of pain.
“i told you to stand down.”
“i did what i thought was right,” you spit back, shoving him off you and steve furrows his brows at the glimpse of red on your hands. “i switched off the bomb! what’s the problem here?”
he takes a moment to process what’s happening in the moment, momentarily ignoring the blood he spotted. “there wasn’t enough time and you know it,” he sighs, frowning at you.
“what did you expect me to do?!” you raise your voice, watching as he clenches his jaw. “stand there and watch it explode when i know i could’ve done something?”
“we evacuated the building,” he grits out, refusing to back down.
if he won’t, you won’t. 
sighing, you have your hands on your hips, tilting your chin up to him, “you’re smarter than this, cap.” his eyes start to waver at the sight of yours piercing right through his. he gulps, knowing there’s more you have to say. “you’re talking as if that’s the only building at risk here.”
steve looks away from you for a moment, snapping his eyes shut as he lowers his shield to the side. you watch as he shakes his head and looks back to you. there’s something about the look in his eyes you can’t quite pinpoint but you’re not sure if that’s just your head playing tricks on you.
“why’re you so stubborn? why can’t you just listen to me?”
“because i trust my judgement. nat trusted my judgement.” you’re tired, so tired. your body feels a little weak but you’re standing firm with your choice–both in arguing back to steve and keeping your body upright. “why can’t you trust me the same?”
steve swallows thickly, his voice deeply shaking your heart when he says: “you could have died for a judgement that’s wrong.”
you know what he means by it. there was a split moment in your mind that considered your death if you were a second too late. or if you hadn’t even made it across to the other building or if your decryptor tool didn’t function as quick as you had hoped. but that’s the thing with being an avenger; you either succeed in saving the world or die trying.
a part of you thinks of how steve feels, knowing your blood would be on his hands should that happen but the anger inside of you overrides steve’s emotions when you put yours in the forefront.
“in case you forgot, captain, everyone out here is putting their lives on the line including you and you know that.” steve bites back on his incoming rebuttal, more than aware you were right. something sticks into his chest, as if he knows there’s more to this than just you disobeying orders. he just doesn’t know what. 
"if i die, at least i’ll know i died trying. that’s on me and no one else.”
steve remains quiet, unsure of how to answer you. (well, wouldn’t be the first time, if he’s honest)
"if that’s all then i’ll–”maybe it was the anger making you a little lightheaded because steve is looking a little blurrier than usual. your eyes try to focus as you blink a couple of times and he takes this moment to step forward, hands extending out to you when you wobble but you still try to push him away.
he shoves his shield behind his back and ignores your hiss at him. his hands come to hold you by the sides of your arms, scanning your body to notice the blood seeping out from your suit.
“fuck,” you gasp when your knees give out, falling forward into steve’s arms as the world dissolves into darkness when your eyelids snap shut.
//
there’s a familiar sting jolting you awake, disrupting your sleep as you peel your eyes open. the immediate bright light and soft sounds of machines welcome you back to consciousness... along with tony’s laugh.
“you good?” he questions, arms crossed in front of his chest as he leans against the wall next to your bed. you groan as you sit up, feel the bandage wrapping your abdomen as you take in your surroundings of being in the medical room at the facility.
tony waits until you’re comfortable sitting up and turn to look at him with a small smile on your face. that brings out a bigger one from his face when he knows you’re okay.
"that was one hell of a move.”
you shrug, raising both brows in amusement.
“if you didn’t have your decryptor on you, we might’ve needed to scrape you from the walls,” he jokes, and that actually makes you chuckle.
“it’s a good thing i’m smart and lucky, huh?”
he rolls his eyes, waving a hand at you, “show off.”
“you’re the one to talk.”
there’s a shared laughter that echoes in the room. then the quietness that settles gives tony a hint to how you might be feeling. he leans away from the wall and steps closer towards you. his hand pats your shoulder, then giving it a squeeze, “good job out there.”
“at least someone thinks so,” you didn’t mean to sound unappreciative of tony’s comfort but something about the way he clicks his tongue lets you know he knows. he steps back, shaking his head, “give him time. capsicle’s not one to gamble with things he can’t bear to lose.”
his words make you scrunch your nose, glancing up to him with a cocked brow. tony only smirks, enjoying your obliviousness. “well, i’m off. bruce’ll come and–”the door opens–“i’m here.”
“–great. now i can leave,” he has both hands up in the air and he’s quick to turn around to navigate himself out of the room. 
“ass!” you call out just as tony pushes through the doors. 
“it takes one to know one!” he hollers back, then the doors shut behind him.
bruce is standing by the end of your bed, pulling up a screen from the top that shows your vitals and your body condition. your eyes settle on him past the screen barrier, which he offers a smile when he catches you looking, curious about the verdict of your well-being.
“no vigorous activities for a week,” he says, swiping away the screen and you can see him properly now. you squint your eyes at him, as if you’re bargaining for time and he scoffs a laugh. “three days, at least.” he cracks the answer, spreading the grin on your face.
“this is why you’re the best, doc.”
“alright then, rest up.” he nods at you, turning on his heels and–”hey,”
he looks over his shoulder, hands in his pockets, “hm?”
“am i... supposed to just lay here all day?”
he chuckles, nodding towards the end of your bed. “watch tv or something, take your mind off things.”
“...could you bring me my decryptor? wanna patch something on it.”
“if i say no, you’re gonna try to get out of bed, huh?”
you offer him a sheepish smile and bruce has to remember that as endearing as you are, there’s a part of you that could easily assassinate people if you needed to. the contrast is amusing to him; how you’re able to look like the most harmless thing and turn brutal in the next. maybe that’s how he got close to you; the contrast between himself and the green monster from within.
"give me a minute. i’ll see if i can pick up some files to keep you busy.”
bruce doesn’t wait for your response, already making his leave.
you wait a couple of minutes, going as far as flicking the holographic television to appear. surfing through the possible channels to watch, you’re about to settle on a movie but the footsteps get you more excited instead. god, what a nerd you are. the door opens and you’re running your mouth before you can stop yourself, flicking the television away.
"did you find it? i had it on me when i–”your own voice gives out when you process who enters the room. instead of faded black hair, light blue button up and cargo pants, you’re met with blonde hair pushed back, dark blue flannel with grey slacks. 
you avert your eyes away, staring ahead to the wall with a soft: “captain.”
“i believe for you it’s only captain on the field,” he musters out pathetically, hating how you don’t greet him like you usually do. (anticipating for a heyya, cap! or stevie steve) he has his hands in his pockets, his eyes locked onto you even though you refuse to look at him.
“yeah, well. it still feels like we’re on a minefield, so...” you mumble under your breath, though, steve catches all the words perfectly. he feels a tight grip on his chest as he stands a good distance away, as if he’s not sure if he could even come close to you.
steve decides to be the bigger person now, clearing his throat to ask: “how you feelin’?”
“been worse,” you snort, “doc said three days at least. so i’m still good to join for–”
“you think you’re getting back out there so soon? after what you did?” fuck, this wasn’t what steve intended to do but his thoughts fly over his head so quick, he’s spewing them out. so unlike him, so... out of control. 
you gape, turning to look at him. “what?”
“you’re off all missions until further notice.”
“you’re still mad?“
there’s this pang in your heart, snapping your gut as you swallow. if you could shoot lasers from your eyes, it would’ve broken steve’s skull. it pained him to be saying these words, when he knows there’s something else, some other way to convey what he really feels but he just... doesn’t know how. it didn’t help that you kept biting back every bone he tries to pick, too.
"well, i’m sorry if i disrespected you as captain but i had to do what i felt was right.” you gulp, looking down to your fiddling hands, “and if that doesn’t sit right with you, take it to fury and have him kick me out.”
“that apology doesn’t sound sincere,” steve scoffs a laugh, sarcastically.
“and you’re being very petty right now,” you counter, sneering at him when his solemn look a moment ago, is replaced with a fiery gaze.
“so you don’t think you’re wrong?” his tone twists a feeling in your gut, the way he’s looking at you should make you feel guilty but it’s just making you upset. more disappointed if anything. this isn’t the way he intends for the conversation to go down and steve’s regretting almost everything he’s saying. he debates on coming closer, especially when you close your eyes and look away from him with a soft sigh.
he licks his lips, intending to try again but–”leave. i don’t wanna talk to you right now.”
steve takes a step forward towards you, ignoring your request but when the door opens, he turns into a statue. bruce obliviously walks in, looking down on the things he’s holding as he speaks: “i think your decryptor’s a little busted but i brought some materials you could use to fix–”he finally looks up and he notices that he must’ve interrupted either an argument or a silent battle. whichever one it is, he doesn’t intend to find out when both of you are staring at him now.
“i uh... i’ll come back later–”
“no, stay.” you’re quick to interject and steve snaps his head at you, watching as you fixate your eyes on bruce over him. “he’s just about to leave, anyway.”
bruce awkwardly clears his throat, stepping to the side as he lowers his head. steve heaves a deep sigh before muttering out softly we’ll talk later, feel better. he pats bruce’s shoulder on his way out and you can finally breathe again when steve’s gone.
“do i wanna ask what’s all that about?” bruce speaks carefully, approaching you to hand you the items. he then takes a seat on the chair next to your bed, watching as you start fiddling with your device.
“you wanna sit through listening about my feelings?” you spare him a glance with a crooked smile and you already know his answer when he leans back onto the chair, making no move to leave you alone.
"it’s the least i can do.”
//
natasha finds steve in his office, face buried in his hands in front of the computer. she gives a knock before entering, watching as he lifts his head up to offer her a small smile.
“hey,” natasha takes a seat next to steve. 
“hey,” he mumbles back, returning to his slump as he hides his face.
“you wanna talk?”
“not really, no.”
“okay.” she nods, getting back up and promptly walking towards the door. just as her hand reaches for the doorknob, the countdown in her mind ticks off when steve–“wait,”
she pulls her hand back, moving to sit down where she had been a second ago. steve turns his chair towards hers, elbows on his knees as he hunches forward. natasha leans back, crossing her legs with her arms as she eyes him. silent, waiting for him to gather his thoughts but it doesn’t look like he’s getting to it anytime soon so she prompts him.
“why’re you so harsh on her for? didn’t she do the right thing?”
“...she disobeyed orders,” he responds after a beat. even he knows it’s a lame excuse, his voice not as confident when he says things he truly believes in.
“why do i get the feeling it’s just more than someone disobeying orders?”
at the question, steve shakes his head, “i dunno. i just–i can’t put my finger on it and it’s been bugging me.”
natasha unfolds her arms and legs, mimicking steve’s position as she raises a brow at him, “can’t put your finger on what? your feelings for her?”
steve’s eyes widen ever so slightly even though he tries not to. his lips gape, just a little and he stares at natasha in bewilderment. he can’t even say she’s wrong when it feels like it’s a hit on the nail. all he does is lower his head, flicking his thumbs as his hands meet, nervously playing around.
natasha sighs, a pitiful smile on her face.
“y’know, maybe she’ll understand if you told her what’s really ticking you off than her just disobeying orders.”
he scoffs, shaking his head, “you’d think she’s smart enough to overthrow tony’s security system but not to understand someone caring for her.”
“you weren’t exactly clear about it, cap.”
steve squints at her.
“i mean, i could be wrong but all these while, you’ve been nothing but reprimanding her about not following orders. how is she to know which is captain talking and which is...”
“which is...?”
“steve rogers.”
he grows quiet, clearly the gears in his head start rotating as the information sinks in. natasha heaves a deep breath as she gets up, patting his shoulder on her way out. 
“don’t be so negative about it. if i’m right, i think she feels the same way.”
steve looks over his shoulder, about to–”w-wait! really?”
“find out yourself,” she’s already out the door and disappearing from the halls when steve dashes out.
//
steve stands outside of the door, unsure if he should head in now or maybe later or... should he even be here? he has a hand on the handle, building up the courage to go in but he stops himself before he does. taking a moment, he–”you gonna go in?”
a voice surprises steve as he turns around to see bruce standing there with a warm smile. steve feels a bit embarrassed, shrugging as he rubs the back of his neck, “i uh... was just doing some rounds and–”
“it’s always gonna be worse the longer you wait, steve.”
steve shakes his head, lowering his hand to his side, “did she... say anything?”
“nothing you don’t know of but... if i may?” bruce was being careful, respectful, if anything. steve was always appreciative of that, giving him the green light with a nod. “you might wanna be gentle with her sometimes. she’s tough and all that but deep down, she’s still a softie,” bruce snorts, “i mean, c’mon. her favorite thing to do is sorting out tech parts by the shade."
“...and she also uses that ability to create a machine to continuously toss loki around in an electrifying cage,” steve states as a matter-of-factly, earning chuckles from both men recalling that imagery.
“just... be good to her, okay? she cares about you.” 
steve nods, a soft thanks before bruce starts to walk off, bidding steve goodbye with a wave he returns with a smile. when bruce disappears from the hallway, steve clears his throat and pushes the door to head in.
the room is dark, only lit with whatever light the moon had to over along with flickers of the city lights outside the glass windows. he quietly pads into the room, watching as you lay still in bed, eyes closed with your head tilted to the side. steve occupies the seat next to your bed, a good view of your sleeping face looking at ease; so relaxed, calm.
one might even think it’s ridiculous how beautiful you look while you slept. that one person, was steve. he gazes to your bandaged abdomen, then the litter of patched cuts on your forearms before he reaches your face again. his eyes stay there as he leans back in his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“you’re so stubborn sometimes,” steve murmurs quietly, lingering his gaze on your face before it trails down to your injury again. he can’t help himself, he doesn’t like the sight of you getting hurt. then he pieces together that... he doesn’t wanna lose you, can’t lose you.
“i wished you listened to me, not just as captain but... as me. steve rogers.” 
he swallows thickly, gazing down to your hand on the bed he desperately wants to hold. wanted to. before this, for a while now.
“as captain, i was mad you disobeyed orders but in truth, steve couldn’t bear to the thought of losing you.” he sighs, hovering his hand over yours, so close within reach but it feels so far away. he retracts his hand back, shaking his head, “i can’t lose someone this important again.”
he clasps his hands as he rests his elbows on his knees. hunching over in his seat, his voice is low as he mutters: “for someone so smart, you can be quite oblivious sometimes...”
steve’s soul almost leaves his body when your voice quietly cuts through the silence–”there’s no way you called me oblivious, stevie steve.”
he lifts his head up and watches as your eyes peel open. you look a little sleepy but it could be from closing your eyes. as you blink a couple of times, the smile crawling on your face reassures steve in a way; comforting, like a gentle hug. a peace offering.
“you didn’t think i was asleep, did you?” teasing.
“sure looked like it,” grumbling.
“you sure like having one-sided conversations, huh?” cheeky.
“it’s the only way you’d listen,” petty.
steve stops himself when you ask: “are we gonna do this again?”
he lets out a bated breath, shaking his head. “...no.” 
surprised, you weren’t opposed by it when he sits up and meets your gaze. you watch as he takes the time to phrase his words; as if he had been thinking all day (he has).
“i’m sorry,” well, you certainly didn’t see that coming. “for not trusting your judgement. for... knowing you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself but i just–”
“couldn’t bear to lose me?”
"will you please?” he deadpans, though you know there’s not much malice in his tone. it makes you snicker as you bite down on your lip, after murmuring a soft sorry.
“i was being harsh on you as captain that i failed to realize you were probably just as afraid as i was. i wasn’t fair on you and i’m sorry but–”this time you had to interrupt him. “any apology with a ‘but’ after doesn’t count, stevie.”
he shakes his head again, lowering his eyes away, “...this one does.”
with the way he’s avoiding your stare, you’d assume something serious was up. wait... did he really get fury to kick you out? your insides start to fidget, feeling a bit antsy that you start fiddling with the blanket as you wait for the verdict to steve’s ‘apology’.
“but... steve was just worried,” your heart stops, with a different feeling brewing from within as he continues softly: “worried about losing you.”
a beat. a pause of silence that has steve feeling like he just bared his heart out to you and the choice was up in the air for you to either stab it or hold onto it tenderly. he waits, though anxious, steve waits. then, you speak.
“i’m sorry too, stevie.”
at the sound of your voice, he tilts his chin up to watch you watch him.
"i knew i should’ve obeyed your orders as captain but i... i couldn’t just not do anything when i know there’s something i could do. instead of trying to explain to you why i could do it, i got angry that you didn’t trust me and–”steve reaches for your hand closest to him, completely changing the course of your thoughts”–and you’re holding my hand.”
he cracks a smile, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, never quite dawning on him how smaller your hand was in his own. “any issues with that?”
“not really, no.”
your smile grows bigger as you flip your hand over to catch steve’s palm against yours. the feeling of his fingers filling the spaces between your own and you clasp your hands together. so fitting, so perfect. it made you feel like a hopeless romantic staring at how your interlocked hands came together.
steve’s no different, clearly enjoying being able to finally hold onto your hand–something he thought he wouldn’t be able to do before it was too late–now, a dream come true. he shifts from his seat, occupying the little space on the mattress to be closer to you.
you sit up to meet with his lean downwards, lips brushing over each other’s and feeling the sparks electrifying your nerves. steve tightens his hold on your hand, his other reaching up to cup your cheek. if his heart didn’t stop then, it surely did now, with the way you nuzzle into his touch.
“is this the part where you kiss me?” you whisper, delicately strumming on his heartstrings. his thumb gently brushing the bottom of your lip, his gaze flickering from your lips back up to your eyes. “if you’ll allow me.”
you don’t answer him with words and instead, use a hand to mirror his actions of cupping his cheek, luring him down closer for your lips to meet. steve sighs against your lips, almost in a soft wince; a mere submission, succumbing to your kiss.
“forgive me?” he murmurs, his thumb now stroking the corner of your lips tenderly. he’s holding onto you with such grace, as if he’s being so careful even though he knows of your potential. it made you feel safe; the kind of safe you hadn’t felt in a while.
“maybe if you’ll sneak me out.” you wiggle your brows, drawing a chuckle from him as he shakes his head, brushing his forehead over yours, “not a chance.”
“then...” your voice trails off softly, your eyes gazing down to your hand still in his and he follows your line of sight, smiling along with you. your thumb brushes the back of his hand and he gives you a small squeeze, drawing your eyes back up to his where they shine so bright with endearment. “keep me company?”
“i can do that.” he agrees almost immediately, that sweet and sincere smile stretching on his face so handsomely.
"all day?” you tease, to which he scoffs a laugh, gently nudging you to lay back down, “all night.”
((”not to fuel you with any ideas but,” you peek up to steve as he pauses mid-sentence, watching as he debates if he should finish speaking. despite steve’s disagreements, you’ve managed to get him to lay in bed with you. (just for a while, he says, at least until you decide you’d want to sleep then he’d get off)
chuckling, you lean forward and rest your chin to his chest, making it even harder for him to speak right when he gazes down to you looking up to him.
he gives in too quickly when you bat your lashes at him.
"you were right to trust your gut.”
you blink at him a couple of times, he blinks at you a couple of times. he finds it amusing that you find this amusing.
“no buts this time?”
“...but please stop making me worry so much.”
“d’you trust me?” at your question, steve tilts his head down, lightly brushing his forehead over yours as he curls his arms around you a bit tighter. you can tell he’s being careful, but there’s something about the way he’s so delicate makes your heart feel warm. warmer in his embrace as his blue eyes flicker from your lips, back up to your eyes.
he nods.
you lean up just a little to give him a kiss, enough to soothe away the worry from his features as your eyes flutter shut to get some rest when you cuddle against him.
“then you have nothing to worry about.”
steve smiles, holding you close and basking in your embrace as he feels your smile imprinting against his chest. as his eyes close and he rests his chin atop of your head, maybe you were right... everything about this, here with you, feels right.
//
the next morning, bruce is much more careful this time around. he opens the door and softly calls your name, then pokes his head through. a smile creeps onto his face when he processes the sight. 
steve’s hunched over by your side, still seated on the chair but much closer to you. he might as well be on the bed. you’re laying a bit lower on the bed to allow his head to rest against your side with a hand of yours on the nape of his neck. his arms are in an odd position but they’re holding onto you; loosely wrapped, a little distorted.
bruce grins when he locks eyes with you and he bites back a chuckle when you threaten to swing at him even with a super soldier sleeping on you. quietly, he retraces his footsteps as he walks out.
eh, you’re in good hands. literally.))
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shittyblogname · 3 years ago
Note
the oneshot with phone guy was so good and angsty, thank you😭😭
And I'm probably being annoying, but I wanted to know if you could do a part 2? I know it was a oneshot, but I'd like to see what might happen next, like somehow the phone guy despite being so badly injured still manages to survive after a long surgery? Or idk, it's up to you what you'd like to see happen next (if you decide to do it ofc)
btw, i also think i'd be good to put a warning abt description of injury if you are gonna write that xd
and again, if you dont want to or feel uncomfortable with it, there is no need of writing it.
Hi Anon :), don't worry! You're not being annoying, I was actually hoping for a request hehe (and I'm always excited about y'all sending me your scenarios)
about the Warnings thing, I'm sorry ^^', I edited it to have Warnings, I just figured that since we're talking about a horror game here with angst requested people would figure that it's gonna be bloody lol. Thank you for reminding me of that :)
Warnings: mentions of surgery, mentions of blood, injuries & a traumatic event
Your leg anxiously bounced up and down in the waiting room. It was noon already, the surgery has been going for 8 hours and you weren't the only person that was stressed. You went home some time during to change, get a cup of coffee and some food from the bakery to keep you going. The events of the night still haunted you, worried that they are fighting for Philip's life right now, while you are sitting there, completely helpless. The other part of your mind wanted to think that they are just taking so long to restore him, mainly his face. It would be foolish to believe that he'll end up looking the exact same, but there was still hope. Either way, this is the man you love and you sure as hell weren't going to dump him for that. It seemed like eternity before a nurse finally exited the operating room, causing you to jump up from the hard chair that had kept you company this morning. Following her were the surgeons and more male nurses bringing Philip to a room for continuing care. You waited until one of the nurses approached you, not wanting to get all in their faces after such a exhausting operation.You were informed about his current state and how the surgery went, apparently he seems to be somewhat awake, yet disoriented or "not fully aware of his surroundings" the male spoke, giving you hope. Another nurse rushed down the hallway with a file in her hand, aiming for you. "he asked for you." was all she said while passing you, clearly in a hurry to do whatever with the files. The man that spoke with you previously was so kind to bring you to the room Philip was in, and instant relief washed over you. There was no bloody mess, no open wounds or a horrifying face like you imagined. You were left alone by the male nurse as he closed the door. Grabbing a little rolling stool you sat next to him, gently searching for his hand to hold. He frowned slightly at your cold fingertips, making you chuckle a little. He looked quite similar to before, a little torn with missing skin where part of his upper lip used to be, but nothing drastic. Your mind went back to the backstage room, how scared you were to lose him. You guessed that the blood and Adrenaline in your veins made everything look worse than it actually was. His eyes were severely bruised from plastic surgeons trying to reconstruct his face as best as possible, and you made the reference of a raccoon to him, earning you a giggle. "I'm so glad that you called me Philip." tears stung your eyes again, but this time a smile was stretching across your face. "I couldn't imagine work without you-" your voice trembled, a sob threatening to escape from your throat. "-or just, life, in general." he gave you a weak squeeze to the hand you held his with, smiling a little himself. You laid your head on the empty space on the bed, your other arm draped over his abdomen. You began sobbing, trying to tell him all of the feelings that were stuck inside you until now. How you felt last night, how horrifying it was. He slowly brushed his thumb against your hand, showing you just how thankful he is. He didn't need to speak, or answer your question as to if he liked you back. His eyes and the slight curl of his lips expressed all that needed to be said.
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Text
All Men Have Limits - X
Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne
Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.
Word Count: 4,100+
Previously on…
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The next three days were one of the darkest periods of Dick Grayson’s life. 
He was thrown back into the past to the moments after his parents were murdered. This felt the same but somehow worse. Because he was convinced he had the power to stop it, to keep Y/N safe.
Why did everyone he love have to die?
Was he cursed?
Was he responsible for their deaths?
He hadn’t even been able to tell Y/N how he really felt. He’d been holding back all this time, terrified that his truth would just push her away and make her decide to close off from him.
Now Dick wished he could go back in time and confess everything to her. If she had pushed him away, he would found his way back to her somehow. He sees that now – now that it’s too late.
He looked at Y/N sleeping peacefully in her bed at the manor.
Is it a miracle if conjuring was used to fight back at fate?
Dick doesn’t even remember what he said when he contacted Zatanna. He must’ve sounded hysterical and utterly desperate. His vision had been blurred from the tears he couldn’t control. 
He already blacked the whole thing out.
Zatanna told them that Y/N would sleep for a few days. Even if her magic saved her life and Y/N wouldn’t even have a scar to prove she had died, her body was still exhausted from the trauma of it all.
But even with Zatanna’s reassurance, Dick hadn’t left Y/N’s side, absolutely terrified that she was still in danger, that she could still leave them forever.
When Y/N started to shift, Dick sat up straighter in the chair that he’d pulled close to her bed.
Y/N winced before her eyes fluttered open.
Dick didn’t want to overwhelm her, so he just waited for her to fully wake up.
Y/N seemed confused when she realized that she was back in her room at the manor.
Then her gaze moved to Dick.
“Bruce, is he–”
“He’s fine,” Dick cut her off before she could get herself into a panic.
Her entire body relaxed and she let out the breath she was holding in without realizing it.
“He has a concussion and he’s a little beat up. But he’s had worse,” Dick elaborated.
She raised a brow. “You tend to say that a lot.”
Dick shrugged.
But it was true: Bruce had been in much worse condition.
“You saved his life, Y/N.”
She seemed uncomfortable hearing that and didn’t meet his gaze.
“I did what anyone would’ve done,” Y/N mumbled.
“Not everyone would be that brave.”
A silence settled between them for a few moments.
“How am I here?” Y/N finally asked Dick quietly.
But they both knew she was really asking, ‘How am I alive?’
“I’m not sure you really want to know all the details…” Dick had been dreading this conversation.
“I’m assuming you called in another favor with your magic friend,” Y/N thought aloud.
“Zatanna,” Dick confirmed. “And, yes. Something like that.”
Y/N gave him a look that told him she wasn’t going to let it go so easily.
“She used a spell that reversed your injuries. She…” Dick had to pause and clear his throat and get rid of his emotions that were threatening to spill. “She used your blood to write a spell, making it far stronger than most she’s cast. It saved your life.”
Y/N watched him for a moment.
“That must’ve been scary,” she whispered, truly understanding what she had put him through.
She simply could not imagine had it been the other way around. The idea of watching Dick die was something she hoped to never live through.
“He hadn’t left your side until Alfred basically secretly drugged him and scared him to get his own bedroom.”
Y/N moved to get out of bed.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Dick panicked as she stood up to stop her.
“I feel…” she thought about it for a moment.
“Like you were stabbed to death?” Dick offered darkly.
“No. I feel…I feel fine.”
He could tell she was telling the truth.
“Perks of magically being healed?” She offered innocently.
“Guess so.”
She moved out of the bed and realized she was wearing cotton shorts and a baggy t-shirt that she most definitely didn’t die in.
What had happened while she was asleep? How long was she dead?
Y/N went to the window and looked out at the grounds of Wayne Manor.
“What happened when the cops showed up?” She asked quietly, almost in a daze.
“You’d have to ask Tim for details. I was preoccupied with…” Dick’s words died out.
Y/N turned away from the window to look at him.
She may have survived, but that was never going to make talking about that night any easier for him.
Luckily, she understood what Dick couldn’t put into words.
Dick took in a deep breath and crossed his arms, “We got them, Y/N.”
It almost seemed to good to be true. They’d been at this for months. It took them weeks just to plan their final blow.
Y/N didn’t realize how hard it would be to believe that it was truly over.
It didn’t help that there was no returning to her old life. Too much had changed.
“With the evidence you gave the FBI, there’s not a lawyer in the world that can save them. Even if a member’s hands aren’t dirty, the public shame will be enough to neutralize them for good,” Dick added with a bit of optimism.
But he could tell by Y/N’s face that she was having trouble accepting the truth.
He took a step toward her. 
“If there’s members of The Court that slipped out from underneath us, if any of them try to come after you, it’ll just prove to the world that The Court of Owls is still operating. And exposing that will be the last thing they’ll want.”
She tried to force a small smile and nod, but it was unconvincing.
Dick closed the space between them and grabbed her hands.
“Y/N, you did it.”
“It’s really over,” she whispered, staring into his deep blue eyes.
He gave her a reassuring smile and nodded.
Then Dick’s focus shifted. He looked her up and down. “Y/N, you should really get some rest. You’ve been through a lot.”
Y/N sighed. “I think I’m gonna take a shower.” She smirked, “Get all that death off me.”
Dick frowned. “Not funny.”
“Jason would think it’s funny,” Y/N teased as she walked to the bathroom.
He playfully glared at her. “I’ll give you some space. But I’ll be down in the cave if you need me.”
Dick only got a few steps before Y/N called his name as if she’d forgotten something and rushed to him.
He looked at her expectantly.
Y/N stepped forward and locked her arms around Dick and buried her face into his shoulder. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing.
“Thank you,” she mumbled as his hands rubbed her back soothingly and he pulled her closer.
Dick wanted to tell Y/N that she didn’t have to thank him. He saved her life and he would do it again and again and again, and he would never expect gratitude for it. Because Dick knew that it was just as much for him as it was for her.
So instead he just held her in silence and felt the warmth from her body – the same body that had been ice cold and lifeless just days before.
When they finally pulled away, Dick was studying her face to make sure she was alright to be left alone.
He gave her one last look before leaving her.
Y/N took her time in the shower, making the water as hot as her skin would allow without giving it burns. There wasn’t a single bruise or cut on her. Her fingers traced over the place on her abdomen where the katana had been shoved through. 
There was nothing.
She wondered if there was a price to pay for such magic. Would she be held accountable? Or would it be Dick’s friend who faced the consequences?
Y/N didn’t know how long she’d been showering, but when she finally walked out, the bathroom was filled with too much steam.
She quickly put on sweatpants and a t-shirt when her stomach started growling. She couldn’t even remember when her last meal had been.
Y/N moved to her door after deciding that going straight to the kitchen was quite necessary.
But she stopped as she heard footsteps walking past her room in the hall.
She froze, thinking it was Bruce.
What would she say to him? Would he be angry with her? Would he not react at all to her resurrection? What would hurt her more between the two?
But it wasn’t Bruce. 
Tim and Damian were walking down the hallway.
“How much longer do you think he’ll stay?” She heard Damian ask.
“I don’t know. I heard the Titans have been bugging him to come back,” Tim answered. “I’m sure Kori misses him and has been texting.”
Damian just hummed in acknowledgment.
Y/N realized her hand was suspended over the doorknob.
And she had a realization: she was safe to leave.
But more importantly, she wasn’t the only one that could return to their “normal” life: so could Dick, so could everyone else in the family.
Soon, Tim would go back to his condo in the city. Jason would stop working so closely with the family he tried to disown and he’d probably stop coming around manor so often – if ever. And Bruce…Bruce would move on to new cases and return to the usual patrolling.  
Y/N turned and looked at the bedroom that had become her new home in the past few months. Her personality was nowhere to be found inside. It wasn't actually hers. She was just one of its many visitors. 
Y/N grabbed her duffle bag from underneath the queen-sized bed and started throwing her belongings into it.
Ten minutes later, Y/N had her jacket and shows on, and all of her belongings were packed in her bag. 
She still had to deal with all her equipment that was sitting in the cave. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, she didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it. She needed to leave – before she changed her mind.
-
Y/N was just yards from the front door when she heard his voice.
“Y/N?” Dick asked just loud enough to catch her.
She froze in place.
While her back was still to him, she closed her eyes in grievance from the failure of being spotted.
She slowly turned around.
“You trying to sneak out of here?” Dick asked.
It was meant to sound teasing, but she heard his disappointment loud and clear.
“It’s about time I get out of your hair.” 
“We’re not exactly kicking you out…” Dick tried to joke.
“You said so yourself: it’s safe for me now.” She sighed and walked closer to him. “Look, I just…I need some time alone.”
Dick took it a bit too personally. Were they really that exhausting to be around? He thought she had started to see them as her own family. He thought things were OK.
“At least let me drive you,” he offered quietly.
“I called a cab. It’s waiting for me outside.”
Before Dick could say anything else, she quickly turned and made her escape.
Y/N knew what she was scared of. She was scared he’d tell her he was leaving Gotham now that the case had been solved. But she was even more scared that he’d tell her he was staying. 
She wasn’t ready to deal with either scenario.
So, Y/N did what she did best: she ran.
��———————
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Y/N stared at the wall of her safe house.
The silence that she had once grown used to long ago was now irritating.
Y/N hadn’t realized how accustomed she had become to the chaos of Wayne Manor until she had torn herself away from it. Even when it was quiet there, she could feel the presence of everyone.
Now she was left only to her thoughts.
And just she was about to escape the silence and go grab food at a nearby diner, there was a knock on the door.
Y/N knew for a fact that this safe-house hadn’t be blown yet – and that included with the Wayne family. It was exactly why she chose to come here instead of the one where Bruce first found her and dragged her to Wayne Manor for her own safety.
Which was why Y/N grabbed one of her guns and checked to make sure it was loaded and the safety was off before she tiptoed to the door.
She looked through the peep hole and her stomach twisted when she saw Bruce Wayne was on the other side.
She knew he could sense her presence on the other side, and there was no hiding. So she opened the door quickly.
Bruce eyed the gun in her hand. “This has become a habit of yours.”
Y/N ignored his comment, uncocked the gun, and carefully placed it on a table near the door.
When she was finally able to take Bruce in, she noted that his face was covered in bruises and small cuts. To be honest, Y/N expected more damage after being a witness to his near-death beating. 
“May I come in?” Bruce asked softly.
She blinked rapidly, realizing she had yet to invite him inside.
This was all reminiscent of that night.
And Y/N didn’t appreciate the memories and feelings Bruce was stirring up.
An awkward silence settled between them. The silence of her apartment was doing nothing to help.
“Are you okay?”
Y/N knew the question was sincere, but Bruce still managed to ask it without showing any ounce of emotion – as if he wasn’t personally invested in the matter. 
“I’m fine,” she answered quickly. Her eyes softened. “Are you okay?”
He simply nodded.
Silence again.
“You can never do that again,” Bruce declared.
“Do what?”
“You risked your life to save mine. The boys refused to tell me what happened, but I saw the footage. You threw yourself in front of me.”
Y/N remained calm as she said, “You did the same for me.”
Bruce shook his head. Because they both knew it wasn’t the same thing.
The truth was that Bruce woke up to find Dick crying over Y/N’s dead body. And then a few minutes he had watched as Dick begged Zatanna to help him.
And Bruce? Bruce had been unconscious when Y/N had needed him the most.
He had protected her all these months – with his own family and his own home – just to be useless in her final moment of need.
When Bruce finally woke up recovered to find out that Y/N had fled the manor, he knew he needed to go to her. He needed to make sure she never did something so stupid as risking her life to save him.
But now Bruce stood before her and he knew he needed to tell her so much more than just that.
“What are you doing here, Bruce? Did you just plan on lecturing me again?”
But Bruce wasn’t realized he couldn’t use any words tonight.
Ever so slowly, he stepped into her space, putting less and less space between their bodies. Y/N could feel the heat coming from him. And she sucked in a gasp from his proximity. She breathed in his cologne that she’d grown to love so much that it instantly relaxed her.
Her heart beat faster and faster as his eyes shifted down to her lips, hesitating in a way that was excruciating to Y/N. But it gave her time to resist, to allow her to shut this down before it could continue.
But Y/N didn’t want to do that.
Bruce brushed her hair away from her face, then his hands shifted slightly to cup her face. His touch wasn’t soft, but insistent.
He pressed his lips to Y/Ns. Brisk and determined. 
The tension finally snapped and pushed them to a passionate kiss that was long overdo.
Was this only going to cause them both more pain in the future?
Or was this what they should’ve done long ago?
Bruce pushed Y/N against a wall.
And then everything became a blur.
Bruce picked Y/N up and wrapped her legs around his waist for her, silently instructing her. 
Clothes were unzipped and unbuttoned, and thrown around the apartment without thought.
Their breathing was heavy and reactive to the way their hands raced across each other’s now naked skin. 
For never being at this particular safe house, Bruce found his way to the bed with ease.
From the movement of their bodies and obvious desire for one another, one thing became clear: they were never meant to only share one night together.
————
Y/N had tried with all her might to stay awake – even if that meant pulling an all-nighter.
She was trying to break the pattern. And even though Bruce had exhausted her body to no end, she didn’t want to wake up to find his side of the bed empty.
But she was shocked to open her eyes and find not only that Bruce was still in her bed, but that she had been sleeping on his bare chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her.
Y/N could feel that he was awake. Apparently he was much more disciplined than her.
Little did she know Bruce hadn’t slept at all, not wanting to miss the feeling of her against him. 
Y/N slowly lifted her head, “Hi.”
He smirked at the sleepiness in her voice.
“Hi."
“Didn’t expect you to be here still,” she admitted quietly.
“I can leave if you want.” And he meant it, even though it would hurt.
“No,” she scolded him in a breathy gasp.
The tension in his body released. 
Y/N shifted off of his chest
“And where do you think you’re going?” Bruce questioned.
She shifted so she was no longer resting on his chest, but laying on her side beside him so she could see his face.
“I just wanted to look at you,” she whispered innocently.
Bruce smirked at her answer.
Y/N made sure the bed sheet was successfully covering her nudity.
Bruce seemed amused with her sudden modesty, but said nothing of it.
“How did you find me here?” Y/N asked him.
It had been the first thing she’d wanted to ask when he showed up to her door last night. But Bruce hadn’t exactly given her a lot of space to speak last night.
Bruce’s jaw tightened, which was a message in its own. 
“Bruceeeee,” Y/N pushed back with irritation.
“You aren’t going to like the answer.”
She glared at him. “Did you put a fucking tracker on me, Bruce Wayne?”
“Your phone.”
“When?” She asked.
“After you tried to turn yourself in to the Talons.”
Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed by the answer.
They both knew she could easily disable it now that she knew about it. Even if he hadn’t confessed it, she would’ve figured it out on her own eventually.
“You’re upset,” Bruce observed.  
“How would you feel if I did the same to you? But it’s…you. And I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Need I remind you that we only met because you blackmailed me and threatened to expose my identity to the world?”
“You know that wasn’t the same,” she shot back as she rolled her eyes. 
“You’re right.” Bruce sighed. “I promise I will deactivate it.”
“No,” Y/N surprised him by saying. “But I will make you a deal…you can always know where I am if I can know the same for you.”
Bruce knew this was a test. Because Y/N expected him to immediately shoot down such an offer. Couldn’t such information be used against Batman?
“Deal,” he agreed.
Y/N was so shocked by his compliance that her overwhelming emotions forced her to lean into him and capture his lips in a kiss.
“Should I make us breakfast?” She whispered to him after barely pulling away from his lips. 
She lightly bumped her nose against his. 
Bruce nodded with a grin.
But before Y/N could ask what he wanted, a knock at the door interrupted them.
Her heart raced at the thought of another intrusion – and a less welcomed one.  
Bruce frowned, but remained calm.
“Stay here,” he warned before placing a light kiss on her bare shoulder.
Before she could argue, he slipped out of bed.
He put his boxer briefs on, but didn’t bother with a shirt or pants.
Even though Bruce told Y/N to stay put, she still figured a mysterious knock on the door was a sign to put clothes on.
She practically threw on her underwear, but couldn’t find a single piece of clothing she had on yesterday. Yet somehow she found Bruce’s white button down and quickly buttoned on to give herself some semblance of decency.
Bruce looked through the peephole. 
He held his breath.
Bruce would’ve rather it been an attempted attack on Y/N than…this.
“Y/N, I know you’re there,” Dick called from the other side of the door.
Bruce knew she couldn’t hear him. But he knew there was no other choice than to open the door.
Bruce looked apathetic as he faced his first protégé.
But Dick knew Bruce well enough to see that there was guilt hidden underneath.
He took in Bruce’s attire – or really, the lack there of.
Dick huffed out a laugh, “Of course. I should’ve known better.”
He shook his head and turned to leave.
Bruce slammed the door shut and rubbed his face in distress.
Before he could even think of something to say to Y/N, she rushed past him and threw the door open again.
“Dick! Wait!” Y/N called to him and caught him in the hallway.
By some miracle, Dick stopped and turned to her.
He looked her up and down, lingering far too long on the white button down she was wearing that so clearly belonged to Bruce.
“Needed some time alone, huh?” 
Throwing Y/N’s own words back at her was meant to come out harsh and cold. But it ended up sounding heartbroken and betrayed.
And, honestly, that was worse to Y/N.
She have any idea what to say to him.
What would even make him feel better?
So, Y/N just watched Dick slowly walk away.
She stepped back into the safe house with tears in her eyes.
Bruce immediately moved to her. 
“Y/N–”
But Y/N shook her head, stopping him from saying anything more.
“I should go,” Bruce told her. 
He couldn’t help himself as he reached to wipe her tears away.
“I should probably give you your shirt back,” she said between sniffles.
Had the situation been different, it would’ve sounded funny. 
But there was no humor here. 
Bruce’s innocent touch of wiping her tears away made it hard for Y/N to concentrate.
So she escaped into the bedroom and quickly changed into her own clothes.
When she walked back out, she had all of Bruce’s stuff in her arms.
Once Bruce was in his clothes again, he didn’t know what to do or say next.
It was hard for Bruce to leave Y/N when she was so visibly upset. Dick wasn’t here to make Y/N feel better this time...and that was all Bruce’s fault.
“I’m not used to saying bye to you,” Y/N finally broke the tension.
Bruce’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
A sad look flashed across her face as she processed her thoughts. “Usually I wake up…and you’re gone. You don’t even give me a chance to.”
Bruce bowed his head in shame. “I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he finally admitted to her.
Y/N nodded slowly, agreeing with him.
“But you did,” she whispered. 
Her voice sounded congested from all the tears she just shed. 
“And all this time, I let myself think it was OK or even that I was the one who had messed it all up.”
Bruce quickly shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N.”
Her eyes darkened. “Why did you have to make it so hard to stay away from you, Bruce?”
An he knew he deserved that. “I’ve been selfish,” he confessed.
Bruce hesitated before giving her a slow kiss on the cheek.
It was the first time Y/N had ever seen him unsure of himself.
Without saying anything more, he turned and left.
“Goodbye, Bruce.” Y/N whispered long after he could still hear her.
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Part XI
Did I ruin your life? Let me know 😂
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hallowed-be-thy-username · 4 years ago
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if your requests are open dear, could I request something ? I've had J getting wounded and being an absolute dramatic mess on my mind this week and I was thinking you could turn it into a short drabble ? Maybe smutty ? Thank you eek !!
Hello anon! 💖
Oh my goodness I’m sorry this has taken me so long!! I’ve had a lot going on and my creative ability has suffered from it but I finally finished this and I hope you like it!
Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, whump
Word count: 1703
Warnings: blood (!), blood loss, injury, injured J, angry shouting, light smut
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Hurt
You struggled to kick the door to your bathroom open, trying to support his much taller frame across your shoulders at the same time. The sound of his groans echoed off of the tile once you switched on the light and managed to get both of you through the doorway.
He growled and cursed loudly, almost pulling you down with him, when you dropped his arm from around your shoulders and lowered him into the bathtub. His chest rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths once his back settled against the porcelain, but you took no time to catch your own breath before springing to the cabinet to look for your first aid supplies.
You should have figured this day would come, when he’d show up at your door, shirt wet with blood – his blood, barely able to stand on his own and nearly incoherent. Where else could he go for help? The hospital wasn’t exactly a great option for a guy like him. And even with his reputation, no matter how notorious, he was bound to get hurt for all of the shit he stirred up. If you were smart, you thought, you would have had your first aid kit ready for action as soon as you started seeing Joker regularly. But, since a first aid kit was nowhere to be found, you had to improvise.
Cursing under your breath, you tossed towels and half-empty bottles of hair care products that never lived up to your expectations over your shoulder in search of something to clean up the blood with so that you could better assess the damage. A bar of plain soap would have to do.
Turning back toward the tub, you stopped in your tracks and stared for a moment at the sight in front of you. His face was twisted with pain and strands of his stringy green hair stuck to his brow, his greasepaint tacky from his sweat. His vest was open, and his shirt was plastered to his skin, the fabric saturated with blood. Another groan through gritted teeth snapped you out of your trance and you rushed to kneel beside the tub, reaching over the edge to loosen his tie and to start to unbutton his shirt.
Some of the buttons were sticky with a mixture of dried and fresh blood, making it even more difficult for your shaky fingers to slide them through their holes. Your eyes couldn’t open any wider than they already were as you mustered up an intense amount of concentration just to open his torn shirt, uncertain about what you were going to see and whether you’d be able to handle it. There was a lot of blood. Had he been shot? Stabbed? Mauled? It seemed you were in a similar position as Joker was, the adrenaline buzzing through your veins being the only thing keeping you conscious.
Holding your breath once the last button slipped free, you pulled the shirt open. A mixture of relief and nausea washed over you and made the sweat on your brow feel cold before you let out a sigh. A nasty gash in his side continued to ooze blood but didn’t seem to be as bad as you’d prepared yourself for. Gross, yes, but not life threatening.
“Look at you, hm? Gettin’ your hands dirty,” Joker panted before letting out another groan and squeezing his eyes shut when a giggle tugged painfully on his wound.
Maybe if you slapped him, his injury would hurt less. But the return of his irksome sarcastic attitude was actually quite a relief. If he could crack jokes, then he must be in okay shape despite the blood loss. You stood from beside the tub to grab a washcloth and quickly run it under the sink faucet, making a sudsy lather with the bar of soap. Returning to kneel at the edge of the tub, you reached down to start cleaning blood from around the wound.
“AHH! FUCK!” Joker shouted and firmly grabbed your wrist to wrench it away from his torso, firmly gritting his teeth.
You whipped your head up to face him and yelled back, “I have to clean it!”
His grip on your wrist tightened, wincing as his heavy breaths strained the edges of the wound while keeping his eyes on yours. “Do ya now?” His voice dropped deep and you both became still.
You stared back and blinked at him. You should have guessed he’d be the type who doesn’t like things done for him. But you doubted he’d be as thorough as you would be. Swallowing down your nerves, you answered, “Are yougoing to do it then?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he drew in a breath before resting his head back against the tub, letting go of your wrist. “If you wanted to play doctor, you should’ve just said so. I like a woman in scrubs.”
The tension in the air dissolved and he clicked his tongue before a twinge in his side made him flinch and suck on his teeth. Was he compromising? It seemed that way. It was like he had to hold on to some sort of control over the situation to let you help him. It kind of made your stomach flutter.
You smirked and answered, “Well I don’t own any scrubs… so maybe next time.”
He hummed and licked his lips, looking at you then back down at his side. His eyes told you to get on with it and you suddenly felt much more nervous. Heat rose up into your cheeks now that he was watching you and the buzz of adrenaline was wearing off, but you told yourself that you can do this.
Taking a deep breath, you cautiously brought the cloth back to his wound, gently wiping its edges. He was still at first, then tensed his abdomen when you started to apply pressure, making your heart beat that much faster. But you had to keep going. You couldn’t leave it like this and let it get infected. He groaned and brought his knuckle between his teeth to bite down on it as you got to work cleaning up the dried blood.
He growled and squirmed in the tub, making it difficult to be delicate but you bit back your desire to tell him to be still. Once the soap cleared away the last of the debris, you dropped the cloth and quickly stood to go grab a cup from the kitchen to rinse it. He wasn’t the only one who was relieved that you’d finished.
“Don’t really have a light touch do ya, doll?” he said as you re-entered the bathroom.
You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black then you didn’t know what was. “Well, you weren’t being very cooperative.”
Joker let out a sharp giggle before scrunching up his face and groaning again while he gripped the sides of the tub. You smiled to yourself and approached the sink to fill the plastic cup you’d retrieved with warm water.
“Mmm that’s ok, I like a little pain,” you heard him reply from behind you.
Turning around, you to see him flash a haughty grin at you before bouncing his eyebrows. You smirked back at him before raising the cup and dumping the of water over him, splashing away the soap as he growled loudly, and you giggled.
Of course, after all of that, you found your first aid supplies after helping him out of the tub as well as his bloodied and soaking wet shirt, but not without a symphony of curses and yelling. Once you’d applied a bandage to the wound and secured a gaze wrap that would hold him over until you could find a way to stitch him up, you lead him to your bed where he flopped onto his back.
Letting out a deep groan he said, “Ya know, you should consider a career in torture. You’ve got a knack for it, doll face.”
You chuckled as you pulled his shoes off of his feet where they hung over the edge of the bed and asked, “Was that a job offer?”
He laughed, making him groan once again from the tugging at his side and you were struck with a strange feeling. That flutter in your stomach. It was almost like pride, but not quite. The man who needed no one came to you for help. Maybe it didn’t mean as much as you thought it did, but that’s ok. The thought that he trusted you enough to turn to you when something went wrong made your heart soar and your belly feel warm.
“So, this is what that much blood loss does to you, huh?”
You smiled at him from the foot of the bed as he lifted his head and answered, “I still have some left.”
The warmth in your belly rose up to your face and compelled you to cautiously climb on top of him, careful to avoid putting any strain on his wound as you gently pressed your pelvis against his. Your heart pounded while you waited for his reaction before a low hum rumbled in his chest as his hands traveled up your sides.
Goosebumps followed his fingertips, and the heat of your breath met his when you leaned forward to ask softly, “Do you have enough left for me to help dull that pain a bit?”
His lips curved into a smile and hands lightly squeezed your waist as he answered with a deep chuckle, “Mmm let’s find out, shall we?”
Your smile matched his before locking your lips together in a kiss, his hands moving to stroke your thighs while you reached to pull his zipper down, your fingers grazing against his hardened cock. Heavy breaths through your noses mixed together while your tongues tangled together and you sank down onto his freed length, the delicious pressure making you moan into his mouth. Your hips rocked slowly against his where you straddled his lap, low groans coming from his throat as his head tilted back and his hands traveled your torso while you helped him forget he was hurt at all.
Taglist! @youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns @jslittlebirdie @drreidsconverse @vipervixxen
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pastelxmelx · 4 years ago
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✰︎ endless time ~ S.R.
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⤷ a/n: here’s my very first attempt at Spencer Reid angst haha
- working on part 2 as we speak
⤷ pairing: spencer reid x reader
⤷ word count: 1.5k
⤷ summary: your past is gone and your future is with Spencer. oh how nice it is to have endless time with the one you love. until you don’t.
⤷ genre: angst
⤷ warnings: stabbing, gun shots, life-threatening injury, let me know if i missed anything!
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     Everything was great with Spencer. You’d never been happier. Your life wasn’t the most joyful before, but joining the BAU and meeting him? It was exactly what you needed. Your relationship wasn’t perfect, no one’s was. But, it was as close as it was going to get. You didn’t fight often, and when you did you were quick to make up. You stuck by each other no matter what you were put through. Whether it be Spencer’s substance abuse, or the death of one of your close friends. Your relationship was truly a partnership, as you were able to work together so in sync that it only helped you while at work, instead of causing problems.
     On your weekends you’d have Star Trek or Doctor Who marathons. He’d make the popcorn and you’d run out to buy soda, then you’d both spend the next several hours cuddled up next to each other on the couch. After one of your cases, Spencer had grown a liking for pianos, so you took the chance to teach him what you knew, it was yet another hobby the two of you had together. Of course, working for the BAU didn’t leave much freetime for the two of you to indulge in your hobbies. But that would never put much of a strain on your relationship.
     When you were at work, the both of you were always sure to separate your relationship from the task at hand. While working on cases, you were more of a team than a couple. With Spencer, everything flowed so smoothly, time included. We’re always told that we never truly appreciate what we have until we lose it. When you were with Spencer, you both couldn’t help but feel like you truly had all the time in the world, like you had endless time. That was what made it hurt the worst.
     The team had been called out to Arizona to work on a fairly routine case. The unsub was abducting young women, and the profile suggested that he was a white man in his late thirties. You, Emily, and Spencer were at the station, he had finished working the geographic profile and was helping the two of you sort through leads with Penelope. Derek and JJ had gone to talk to the family of the latest victim, and Hotch and Rossi were talking to a potential witness to one of the abductions
     “Talk to me sugar,” Penelope said as she picked up the phone. “My brilliance is at your service.”
     You smiled, “Hey love, can you find out how many gyms there are within a 20 mile radius of the first abduction site? We think that may be where the unsub is finding his victims.”
     “Sure thing! There are three, anything you want me to look for to narrow that down?” she asked.
     “Can you check to see if any of them had programs designed to get people in shape for an event of some sort?”, Emily added.
     “Mhm! Oh, that only got rid of one,” Penelope said in a slightly dejected tone. “Anything else?”
     “Do either of the gyms have high drop-out rates? We think the unsub might be choosing from them,” Spencer said.
     “Hm, they’re both about the same. But! ForeverFitness is known for having a much rigorous program,” she answered.
     “Could you pull up a list of their employees?” you ask her, already knowing the answer she’d give you.
     “Can I? Don’t tell me you’re starting to doubt my magical abilities. It’s already pulled up, sweet sauce.”
     “Narrow it down to only the males,” Spencer told her. “We’re looking for someone in his late thirties who’d have access to a list of everyone who signed up for those programs.”
     “Got it! Hm, I still have a list of about 30 employees,” Penelope said after only a few moments.
     “That many? Do any of them have any complaints filed against them? Maybe something like harassing a gym member, or lashing out at a co-worker, or such?” you specified.
     “Also try looking for anyone who might’ve been suspended, or even someone who’s almost been fired,” Emily added.
     “Aha! I think I’ve got the guy you’re looking for! One Thomas Iverson, he has three complaints filed against him, all from different patrons, and one from a female co-worker. The work related one is for sexual harassment, though it was dropped soon after, and the other three were for aggression. He’s been suspended twice in the past year, but hasn’t been fired, probably because his boss is a family friend,” she explained.
     “Penny you’re a genius, do you have an address?” you asked, glad that you might have finally found the killer after such a tough week.
     “Tell me something I don’t know,” she said proudly, “and you bet I do, it’s already been sent to all of your phones!”
     “You’re the best,” Emily said, getting an ‘i know’ in response. You hung up and called Hotch to let him know what the three of you had found out. He told you to go check it out, and that he’d call Derek and JJ and that they’d all meet you there if Iverson turned out to be the unsub.
     The three of you arrived at the house, only to find that it was empty. You were looking through all of the rooms, and everything was going normally. If you didn’t find him, you’d try a different angle. And if you did, you’d take him in to hopefully close the case. If you found him, though. None of you were prepared for what would happen if he found you. None of you had even considered it. And yet, he did. The three of you had separated as you searched the house, and once you’d made it upstairs you’d spotted a moving figure.
     Before heading towards it you called out, “Guys, I think I have something.” You wanted to alert Spencer and Emily to get them to come upstairs, but you didn’t want Iverson to know that you’d spotted him specifically. You heard footsteps coming from downstairs, and knew they were on their way, so you slowly began to approach the room with your gun pointed ahead. “Iverson?” you said. “I’m with the FBI, put your hands up and step out where I can see you.”
     You entered the room, but before you had the time to process what was happening, you felt something sharp in your abdomen. Then the same pain appeared a few inches above, and a few inches to the side from that. You’d been stabbed three times. The next thing you heard before collapsing was a single gunshot, and your teammates calling out for you. You were conscious, but just barely. Not to mention the incredible pain that you were in. Iverson was dead, and you were soon to be next.
     You weren’t sure who it was, but one of them was trying to put pressure over your wounds. Was it working? That was something else that you weren’t sure of. You were teetering on the edge of consciousness, and whoever was with you was urging you to keep your eyes open. The ambulance was here, that’s what you were told. But, did that mean that everything was going to be okay? The ambulance was here, but did that mean that you were saved? Or was it too late? Maybe you’d find out, or maybe you wouldn’t.
     You couldn’t tell exactly what was happening, though you could tell that you were being moved around so you guessed that you were being placed into the ambulance. Someone was holding your hand, it must’ve been Spencer. Your eyes had closed, and you couldn’t find the strength to open them again. That didn’t have to be a bad sign though, you could still make it out of this alive. You were as calm as you could be. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all.
     Spencer, on the other hand, was in a full on panic. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to handle losing you. Not like this, not in any way. As Emily was trying to keep you from bleeding out, he was on the phone with Hotch who had assured him that paramedics were on their way. Sitting in the ambulance with you gave him some relief, as he was able to hold onto the hope that you’d live.
     But, his fear was still there, and it was still overwhelming. Sitting in the waiting room didn’t help his feeling of helplessness. You were rushed into surgery as soon as you got into the building, and there was nothing left for him to do. Nothing other than sitting down, waiting, and hoping you were alright.
     And you had to be alright. You just had to. After all, the two of you were supposed to have endless time.
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jackrrabbit · 5 years ago
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it will come back [pt. 1] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader
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Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 2] [Part 3]
A/N: Low budget yandere for my greasy king. This concept has definitely been done before, but I couldn’t resist. This is my first non-smut on this acct and I’ll be so sad if it bombs 😭
Title from the Hozier song: “don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”
Tags/warnings: light yandere, minor injury, angst, Shiggy likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep. [In later parts but not in this one: violence, sex, more yandere, 18+]
You’ve always had a soft spot for strays. Maybe that’s why you became an ER nurse—from the first abandoned puppy you brought home as a kid to the patients you refuse to give up on even when it looks hopeless, you’ve never been able to turn a blind eye when something needs your help. Sometimes (times like this) you wish you knew better. It’s hard enough to take care of yourself these days.
Today’s shift was…what, 16 hours? 17? The 20-minute walk from the bus stop to your apartment building feels like it takes twice that long in the rain. God, you need a shower. And a decent night’s sleep, preferably for at least 12 hours. Tomorrow’s your day off, and you’re ready to take advantage of it the best way you know how: Netflix, soju, and your favorite vibrator. But tonight? As soon as you’re clean, you’re going to pig out on leftovers and collapse into the bed that’s the only halfway nice piece of furniture in your shithole apartment. You really do deserve a break; you’ve earned it.
Unfortunately, as usual, the universe has other plans.
You hear him before you see him: wheezing, choked breaths, like someone’s trying to breathe with an anvil on their chest. You’re not quite out of nurse mode so your mind starts trying to diagnose the issue before you even register what you’re hearing. Fluid in the lungs, possibly blood. That hacking isn’t good. Broken ribs? Definitely bruised. But probably not a puncture…
The breathing is coming from down an alley next to your building. It’s dark enough that you can’t see from the street what’s making the noise. And you’re not a fool, you know it’s a bad idea to walk down pitch-black alleys late at night, especially in this area—a neighborhood you’re living in by necessity, because it’s the only place cheap enough for you to get by. But the coughing…it just sounds so awful. It sounds like it hurts.
Your phone’s already in your hand with 119 dialed and ready to call (standard practice when you’re walking home by yourself), but you turn the flashlight on and shine it down the alleyway. “Hello? Anyone there?”
Nothing responds, but you can still hear the breathing. You step in a little deeper, swinging your light from side to side and looking over the heaps of trash bags overflowing from the dumpster. The raindrops make clicking sounds as they hit the plastic, and you can hear gurgling from a rain spout down the side of the building, but the wheezing doesn’t stop.
One more step. And then one more. You wish there was something you could do to make the splash of your rain boots in the puddles a little less loud. Something about this situation—the rain, the dark, the flat grey light from your cellphone, and that horrible hacking breath—it makes you feel like you’re walking into a horror movie. But you don’t stop walking.
The hacking is coming from a man propped up on the wall between a few XL bags of trash. The black outfit he’s wearing almost blends into the bags, but a mop of grey-blue hair gives him away. His head is slumped onto his chest, and if he’s conscious he doesn’t show it. “Hello?” you ask again, even less confident that you’re going to get a response.
No answer.
The smell of garbage is…ugh…hard to ignore, but on top of it is an oppressive stench of copper coming from the man passed out in the trash. You kneel down to get a better look and yep, he’s covered in blood. It’s hard to make out in the low light, but there’s a trio of long gashes in the man’s abdomen, cutting apart the skin and flesh so deep you can see traces of a slim layer of yellow fat between all the inky clotted blood. It looks like he was attacked by an animal. Or someone with an animal quirk. There are a lot of villains in this neighborhood.
And the coughing...definitely internal injuries. Whoever this guy is, he needs treatment. You hold up your phone to hit the call button on your pre-dialed 119—
“Don’t.” The voice is a growl, low and surprisingly firm despite the scratchiness. You jerk back and clutch your phone to your chest, caught off guard not just by the interruption but by the intensity of the face glaring up at yours.
His eyes are red. “You need an ambulance,” you tell him in your calmest nurse voice.
“If you try to call the police, I’ll—kill you,” the man says, but the threat is a little less threatening when he has to stop in the middle to retch blood onto his own chin.
You glare back at him but don’t call the emergency number. There are a lot of of reasons why he wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, but the most obvious one is probably true. “You’re a criminal. A villain?”
He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to keep glaring at you like you’ve committed some mortal sin against his ancestors by having the nerve to check on him and try to help him. Somehow it pisses you off. When you were getting your ADN, you once took a temp job doing health screenings at a local middle school and you would always get so annoyed at the kids. Didn’t they see you were just doing your job? Why is it so hard to understand that what you’re doing is for their own good?
Stupid kids. Stupid villain. “You’d rather bleed out and die?”
The man bares his teeth at you, and it’s a pretty disturbing scene considering how they’re covered in scarlet. “You think they’re going to save me? Think I’ll go to the hospital and get all my HP restored?”
He’s mocking you now. You only have a second to move out of the way before he spits off to the side. “I mean…that’s how a hospital works.”
“If you think I would—make it out of that ambulance alive, you’re—dumber than you look.” His voice is interspersed with coughs.
“Well, you’re not going to live if I leave you here.” You hold up your phone, ready to call the ambulance, but in a shocking display of agility the man lunges forward and grabs it out of your hand. “Hey, wait! Give that…back…”
Your voice trails off as your phone crumbles—literally crumbles to dust in the man’s fingers. Once he’s satisfied that there’s no way for you to call the cops, he slumps back onto the trash bags and closes his eyes, apparently exhausted from the effort.
Goddamnit…! For a second, you can only stare blankly at the pile of dust that used to be your $300 smartphone. And then you’re seized by something, maybe not hatred but an annoyance so strong you can feel it in your throat, and you decide right then and there that this villain is not going to die. You’re going to save him. Out of spite.
You’re not sure how you manage to half-carry him from the alley to your apartment, but you do. You’re lucky it’s ass-o-clock at night and no one’s in the lobby or the elevator, or you’d definitely be getting some looks trying to lug a maimed body around. What would you say if someone did call the cops? Don’t worry, don’t worry about it officer, it’s just my friend drank a little too much, oh those wounds? We were at a costume party, haha…
But no one sees you, and no one calls the cops. The man is unconscious the whole time you’re carrying him, and by the time you have him laid out on a shower curtain on your living room floor his breathing is a little bit shallower than it was before. You’ve got your tools—nothing fancy, just some gauze and closures and antiseptic from your personal first aid kit. It’s not much, but it’ll have to be enough.
“Let’s get to work, asshole,” you tell the unconscious body in front of you, and you crack your knuckles.
///
The day after you pick the villain out of the garbage, your body decides that it’s not going to let you sleep in no matter how much you need it. You can tell because the huge windows in your bedroom—the only saving grace of this apartment, honestly—are depositing golden-pink sunrise light over everything you see when you open your eyes, including the villain’s face. Which is about six inches away from yours.
“You smell like death,” you tell him sleepily. He doesn’t move.
He’s…probably in his early twenties, you think, but it’s hard to tell because of all the wrinkles. His hair is on the longer side, and it’s striped with rusty brown smears from his blood. Again, you notice how red his irises are. Have you ever seen someone with eyes that color before? You’re pretty sure you haven’t.
“You slept for a long time,” the villain says, finally moving back so he’s not breathing into your mouth.
“Yeah, I was tired. From saving your life.” You sit up and rub your temples. “I’m thirsty…”
Before you can finish your complaint, the villain is holding a glass of water out to you in an awkward 4-fingered grip.
“Um, thanks, I guess.” You suck down the water and immediately feel better, enough that you realize how wrong it is that he’s up and moving around and probably undoing all your hard work. “You should be lying down.”
“The floor hurt, and I was bored.”
“Lie on the couch then. You can watch TV. But first—“ He’s sitting on the edge of your bed next to you, and you make him lie down flat so you can look at the injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as they looked last night—no walk in the park, but at least you won’t have a corpse in your apartment in a few hours.
When you’re done inspecting him, he sits up and asks you for a shirt. You had to cut his off, not that it was any great loss. The thing was shredded. Him pointing it out is the only thing that makes you really realize he’s shirtless, so you give him an oversized pajama shirt of yours. It has the name and motto of your old high school on it, and the villain reads it out in a half-mocking tone when you hand it to him.
“Beggars shouldn’t be choosers,” you snap. “You should be grateful.”
“I am grateful,” he says, putting the shirt on. “But I don’t understand.”
“I mean, you need a shirt, right? It’s cold—“
“No. Not that.” He’s staring at you again, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact. “Why you didn’t leave me where you found me last night.”
There’s a lot you could tell him, all of it a little bit true. You were curious. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t make it out of the hospital alive. You couldn’t leave him alone the same way you can’t leave abandoned puppies alone. You wanted to prove to him that you were right, and that being stubborn wouldn’t get him what he wanted. But you don’t say that. “You killed my phone, so you owe me a new one. And I can’t get that back if you bleed out.”
He’s looking at you like he doesn’t believe you, and you fidget under his gaze until he sighs and says, “Whatever.”
You have to let him lean on your shoulder when he walks back to the living room to lie down on your couch. How the hell did he even get to your bedroom by himself? You really didn’t think this through—what are you supposed to do with an infirm possible villain who can barely walk unsupported without opening his injuries back up?
But that’s a problem for tomorrow you to deal with. Today, you’re content to set your laptop up on the coffee table so the two of you can watch TV in…oddly companionable (if you’re not imagining it) silence. It’s almost the lazy day off you were daydreaming about before you got yourself into this mess, and the atmosphere is so relaxed that before you can really decide whether to force the man to go to the hospital or turn him out on the street (or…?) you’re dozing off on your couch like there isn’t a potentially dangerous stranger lying beside you with his head just a few inches from your lap.
When you wake up, your problem is solved for you. He’s gone, and it’s like he was never there—except you’re down a cellphone and a pajama shirt, and your shower curtain is drenched with blood. You wrap it up with the rest of the soiled medical supplies and toss all of it in a dumpster a mile away from your building without knowing exactly why.
///
It’s not the last you see of him, but somehow you had a feeling that was going to be the case.
He scares the shit out of you the first time he visits (over time, that’s how you’ll start to think of his little unannounced drop-ins: visits. Like you’re being visited by a ghost or something). You’re coming back from another grueling shift in the ER, so tired you think you might be sleepwalking, and what do you find when you come in your apartment but a strange white-haired man sitting on your couch eating dry cereal out of the box and flipping through one of your books?
You nearly piss yourself.
He doesn’t seem surprised, which makes sense, considering he’s a villain and he’s probably used to pulling this dramatic entrance thing on people. He certainly doesn’t seem the least bit threatened when you brandish the mini canister of pepper spray on your keychain and demand that he tell you how he got in if he wants to retain the power of eyesight.
“It was unlocked,” he says.
“It was not unlocked,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You may be sleep deprived, but you’re not careless. Never careless.
“Whatever. Calm down. You’re not going to use that on me.”
He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. If he wanted to do something to hurt you, he could’ve done it that first night. And you’re too tired to really put up a fight, so you just put the cap back on the pepper spray and flop down next to him on the couch. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He looks at you curiously from between his shaggy bangs, like you’re the one intruding in his home and not the other way around, then reaches out to hand something to you. “Here, payback.”
It’s a cell phone—not a smartphone like the one he destroyed, but a flip phone circa the 2000s, the kind that forces you to press “9” four times to get the letter “F”. You stare at it for a second, then look back at the villain. “Are you kidding? Did you get this from a museum?”
“Take it or leave it.” His feet are propped up on your coffee table, but you can’t make yourself care. Actually, it looks nice…him stretched out with an odd look of comfort on his lanky form.
You lean back on the couch and kick up your feet next to his. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”
He shrugs.
“How are your wounds healing?” Why are you trying to make conversation with this guy? He’s…a villain, right? Not that you’ve ever received affirmative confirmation of that fact, but the hesitance to call the police and the breaking and entering are pretty good tells. But…it might be weird, but since you picked him up that day, you’ve felt a kind of kinship with him.
Alone. Abandoned. No place to go. No one to save him. It’s not a pretty comparison, but you can’t deny it rings true.
Maybe that’s why you pick up strays.
“They’re fine,” he tells you after so long a pause that you’ve almost forgotten your question. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
You take a long look at him, at his posture—he’s relaxed, but his abdomen is crunched a little bit, curled in on himself so subtly that even you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t looking. It’s not your problem. He’s an adult, and you’re sure he could be seeking real medical attention if he really needed it. You’re in no way obligated to perform some kind of checkup on this arrogant dick who literally broke into your apartment to give you a shitty phone and eat your cereal. The sensible thing to do is to tell him to forget that you live here and hopefully never see him again.
His head tips back to rest on the top of the couch, and he holds your book up to read. At this angle his long hair is out of the way of his face, and you notice among the deep-set creases in his skin a pair of wide scars across his right eye and on the corner of his lips. They’re pale and faded—old, then—but they look off to you, and after a while of snatching glances at his face you realize it’s because they’re healed badly, extraordinarily badly, the kind of healing that you don’t see very often because it only occurs when a stubborn patient tries to let a particularly nasty injury heal on its own. The part of you that isn’t sensible wonders how old he was when he got those scars.
Has he learned his lesson?
You doubt it.
“Lie down,” you sigh. “Let me see the cuts.”
Which is how you find yourself examining this annoying villain again, checking on his injuries and giving him recommendations for care like you’re his personal nurse or something. It’s not a role you enjoy playing, but at least he takes it without complaint, and you start to wonder if maybe this is why he broke into your apartment in the first place. If anything, he looks calmer when you’ve flipped up his shirt and prodded at his wounds, his eyes closing slowly and freeing you of that scarlet-red gaze.
He’s like a cat, you think, and then you shake your head and remind yourself that it’s a terrible idea to think of this man—this grown man who is probably a great danger to you and others—as a wild animal you’re trying to domesticate.
When he finally leaves (only after you drop a couple dozen unsubtle hints about how long you’ve been at work and how exhausted you are), you take a moment before you sink into bed to look at the flip phone. It’s no nicer than your original impression, but as you scroll through the screens you notice that it’s factory-new, except for one thing: there’s a contact programmed in, a phone number with an area code you don’t recognize listed under “T”. And you don’t want to be curious…
…but you are. Shocking.
Down the rabbit hole it is, you decide. So you text him.
///
[You: 12:03 AM] > Hey it’s (Y/N) > (the girl whose apartment you broke into) > What does T stand for? [T: 12:07 AM] > What do u think [You: 12:09 AM] > ?? [T: 12:09 AM] > My name > Dont you know who i am [You: 12:10 AM] > Are you famous? [T: 12:10 AM] > You dont watch the news do u [You: 12:11 AM] > Not really > What’s your name then [T: 12:12 AM] > … > Didnt u say u had to sleep [You: 12:15 AM] > Oh yeah > Whatever I guess > Good night
[T: 2:34 AM] > Its Tomura > Dont look it up
[You: 8:02 AM] > Ok > I won’t > Tomura
➠ [Part 2]
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fanfic-me-up · 5 years ago
Note
Hiiiiiii can I request Bakugou x fem!reader?? (*≧∀≦*) Maybe he has a crush on you who has a healing quirk and helps recovery girl when it comes to helping the injured, like when class 1-A finishes up training and recovery girl normally sends her to deal with it all the time? She can heal people but it drains her energy so when she finished with it she takes naps on the recovery beds? Idk but thanks!much love❤️❤️❤️
This is a really cute idea! Thank you for requesting 💖 
“Shut up and Heal me”
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader
Word Count: 1.5k+
Warnings: Language (what do you expect, it’s Bakugou lol)
Synopsis: You’re a student at U.A. and Recovery Girl’s apprentice healer. When you push pass your limit to heal Bakugou Katsuki, who knew he cared enough to make sure you heal too.
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“Wake up, dumbass.”
Your shoulder is shaken, abruptly waking you from your nap. A muscular silhouette takes shape as you pry your eyes open.
“Bakugou? Is that you?” Your voice laced with sleep. 
“Nah, it’s Batman.” 
You squint your eyes, still half asleep. Is this a dream? Bakugou rolls his eyes at your inability to detect blatant sarcasm.
“‘Course it’s me, dipshit. Get up.”
You check your phone and groan when you find you only got five minutes worth of valuable shut eye.
“You’re here early.” 
“Aizawa-sensei let us out early!” Midoriya pipes up. He’s chipper for someone who looks one step away from passing out. Any trace of sleep vanishes when you assess his injuries, asking him a series of questions to confirm where he needs medical attention and if it’s life-threatening. You usher him to Recovery Girl’s office so he can get treated immediately. Typical Midoriya - always going plus ultra even for training exercises. 
Bakugou’s no better as you take in the numerous scrapes and bruises raking his body. Despite his beaten-up state, the only open wound is on the right side of his stomach - a small pool of blood seeping through his muscle shirt. He’s been pushing himself much harder in training these past couple weeks and you know it’s the life of a hero, but you’re concerned for him as a healer and as a friend. 
“You gonna stare all day or heal me?”
“Sorry, right, uh.. Take off your shirt and get on the bed.” 
The words escape before you realize the implication. Bakugou raises an eyebrow before snorting.
“Tch. Weirdo.”
You flush as he takes off his shirt, laying down on the bed. The wound running down his abdomen is not deep, but it is long. It’ll be difficult to heal, but you’re always up for a challenge. You wash your hands before activating your quirk. A glowing aura surrounds your hands, transparent in color, but before you can focus on changing the color to heal Bakugou - a spaced out Kaminari stands before you with his signature thumbs up. Snot is running down his nose and his eyes have this blank look like no one’s home. 
“hewwoo?” 
“Oi! Dunceface! To your right!” 
“wa-whee-whaa?” 
That’s Kaminari gibberish for “Where?” Being Recovery Girl’s intern and constantly healing Class 1-A along with other students in the hero course has made you quite familiar with the unusual side effects of overusing one’s quirk. You created a book with translations for Kaminari’s most used gibberish phrases so you can treat him more efficiently. Today, you tried placing his juice box and cookies on the table to the right to see if he can find it himself. But he’s having problems finding what direction is right.
“Your other right, dumbass.” Bakugou growls as Kaminari bends down to look for his juice box under a chair. You giggle as you help him locate his snack before ushering him to one of the recovery beds to take a nap. He knocks out in no time, snoring softly. Bakugou grunts, his hand pressing against the wound on his side. 
“Don’t touch, it could get infected.” 
“Tch. I know, but look.” He releases his hold to show you the blood dripping down his abdomen. You curse for not healing him sooner when he was clearly a higher priority than Kaminari. How could you forget the number one rule as a healer? There’s no time to beat yourself up for it so you grab a cleaning cloth to wipe away the blood before activating your quirk once again. You close your eyes, focusing your energy into what you’re about to do which is close up a wound. Red swirls behind your eyelids and you focus the color down your body to your hands. You open your eyes to find them glowing a bright, luminescent red - a stark contrast to the dim lighting in the room. Bakugou hisses at the touch; your hands trailing along his abdomen. You look up to apologize when you notice Bakugou’s flushed cheeks, as red as your glowing hands.
“Are you okay? You’re a bit flushed.” You deactivate your quirk in your left hand to touch his forehead. It’s cause for concern if he has a fever due to an open wound, but you’re taken aback when Bakugou swats your hand away.
“I’m fine! Shut up and heal me.” He looks away, but you catch the persistent redness now making its way down his neck. You return to healing the wound. It’s almost closed, but you can feel your energy draining quicker than usual since you didn’t have enough time to recover earlier. 
“Hey, you good?” 
“Mhm. Al-most… done…” You bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to concentrate the last of your energy into closing the rest of the wound.
“Don’t push it, dumbass.”  Bakugou grunts and despite the harsh tone, there’s a tinge of concern underneath. 
“Heh.. could say… the same… for..” 
You trail off and your hands glow brighter by the second that you can see red behind your eyelids. You feel the wound seal shut and when you open your eyes you see there’s not a scar in sight. This is the first time you were able to completely heal a wound on your own. You smile at your accomplishment. 
“You can take your hands off.” 
You flush before ripping your hands away. The quick movement gives you a head rush, the room spinning in circles.
“Whoa.” Bakugou grabs you by the shoulders and reverses your position so you’re laying down now. 
“My head hurts…”
“No shit,” Bakugou snorts, “What’d I say about pushing?”
“Go beyond... plus… ultra…”
The last thing you hear is Bakugou laughing, a soft smile curling his lips, before your vision goes black.
------------------------------------------------
You wake up to the smell of roasted coffee and cinnabons. Faint voices go back and forth, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. The light streaming in is gone; the room now darker than before. Jeez how long were you out?
“Took you long enough.”
You whip your head to see Bakugou sitting on a chair and nursing a cup of coffee. The bed next to yours is empty. Kaminari must’ve recovered meaning you’ve slept for more than an hour.
“You stayed.”
“Yeah, and? Wanted to make sure you didn’t die ‘cause of me.” 
City lights shine bright, and the hustle and bustle outside suggests the city isn’t going to sleep anytime soon. Live music roars from nightclubs and people laughing on the street would entice anyone to join the party. It’s pretty hard to believe Bakugou would stay behind on a Friday night when it’s common knowledge that you need to sleep after overusing your quirk. But here he is, that same strip of red running along his cheeks and nose like he just got a cute little sunburn. 
“You like laser tag?” Bakugou asks.
You raise an eyebrow at the random question, shrugging when you answer.
“Never played.”
Bakugou balks, shock written all over his face.
“You never - what kind of person - nevermind. If we hurry, we can make the last round.”
Maybe this time you really were dreaming. You subtly pinch yourself to make sure and nope, this is real life and Bakugou is inviting you to hang out.
“Sounds... fun? But I… um…I’m not really part of your squad…”
You didn’t want to overstep. It seemed like they were a pretty tight-knit group and you’ve never hung out with them outside of school. The fear of ruining their night because you didn’t vibe with them twisted your gut. 
“Gimme your phone,” Bakugou says.
Still in a daze, you give him your phone without question. He takes his phone out and not a second later you hear a “ping” from yours, He presses a couple buttons before handing it back to you. 
“Congrats, you’re part of the squad.”
You see that you’ve been added to a group chat called “keeping up with the crackheads”. You don’t have time to contemplate exactly what you got thrusted into as Bakugou is grabbing both of your jackets hanging on the coat rack, handing yours and pushing you towards the door. 
“I- um.. Thanks… I guess...? Bakugou, what’s going on?”
You’re already halfway down the hallway, everything happening too fast without a clear explanation. Bakugou groans, clearly frustrated that you’re not a mind reader and he has to actually communicate what he’s thinking. He grabs your shoulders, gently shoving your back against the lockers, and planting his hands on either side of you. Being this close to Bakugou makes you feel a familiar flurry of butterflies as you’re caged in and forced to look into those crimson eyes. 
“I. Like. You.” He smirks, getting a kick at your flustered state, before leaning away with his hands in his pockets, “And I know you like me too.”
You don’t know what to freak out over first. The fact that Bakugou knows about your crush or that he likes you back. Also, how does he know you like him? You haven’t told anyone about your crush, preferring to keep your cards close to your chest.
“Don’t talk in your sleep if you don’t want me to know how much you wanna run your hands down my ‘chiseled abs’.”
You squeak and cover your face with your hands, too embarrassed at what else you might’ve said in your sleep.
“Chill, dumbass, it’s cute.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes, throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading you to a night full of riveting laser tag, making new friends, and first kisses. 💖
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chaoticallygray · 4 years ago
Note
Hi! I absolutely love the previous oneshot you made! I was wondering if I could request another oneshot? Again, with Leopold, but this time, it takes place at the climax of episode eight. The reader, Billy, Leo, and Spike are stuck in the cellar and the reader tries to save Leo when he is drowning, despite being gravely injured herself/themself.
Basically something like that. If you want, you can change the details. And again, absolutely loved the previous oneshot you made! :D
Requested by: Anon!
Thank you! I’m glad people are liking my writing. It makes me happy. I’m guessing this is the previous anon so of course! You can request as much as you want to. I’m excited to write this one not gonna lie. I’m going to kind of link it to the previous one to get a footing for this request. Pronouns used: They/Them
I added in a twist that had been running around in my head that I’d like to develop into an actual story. If you spotted the twist and would like me to write a fanfiction let me know! I’m open to criticism.
 Previous One Shot
Spoilers!!!
Trigger warnings: Stabbings, drownings, injuries, demon, blood
After that first kiss on the docks, Leo and Y/N were closer. Not inseparable because they both understood they needed to be their own person but they were certainly closer. The rest of the irregulars were happy for them and they teased them for a good two hours after they found out Y/N and Leo were together. It seemed as though the world was happy for them as well and gave them a day to bask in their happiness before it thrust them head first into more cases.
---
It had been case after case for the irregulars with a lot of new revelations for this group of rowdy kids just trying to survive living in London. Billy found out that his past was a lie, Jesse found out that she was an Ipsissimus, Spike has matured and now has a slight exhausted look to his eyes, Bea found Sherlock and found out what really happened to her mum, and Leo was outed as a royal. As for Y/N, they didn’t know what to do. When Bea was talking to a man that seemed to be a royal guard, how Y/N knew he was a guard they didn’t know, Y/N had accidentally walked into their view and the guard immediately looked like he knew Y/N. They hadn’t interacted when his horse almost ran over Jesse as Y/N had been down at the docks that particular night. It was odd but from what Y/N gathered from the guard, his name was Daimler, was the personal guard to one Prince Leopold. Y/N tensed as he said this. Realization dawned on Bea and she excused herself. Daimler noticed Y/N’s tenseness yet he noticed that they didn’t seem surprised. 
“You don’t seem surprised.” He uttered looking over at Y/N’s form and how they held themselves and the puzzle pieces in his head started creating a more accurate picture to his thoughts.
“I had my suspicions. I need not ask if the evidence was in front of me every day.” Y/N responded still tense as Daimler seemed to be staring into Y/N’s soul. Never one to back down so easily, something learnt from Billy, Y/N stared right back.
At this, Daimler thought it best to take his leave but not before asking Y/N one last thing.
“Do you happen to have a scar running down your right middle finger to your inner wrist?” 
Y/N backed away from Daimler putting more space between them. How did someone else know about a scar they themselves didn’t even know how they got?
Having gotten his answer, Daimler left but not without one last remark.
“Until next time Marquess/Marchioness Charlie.”
After Daimler was long gone and Y/N could breathe they processed what he had said before he left.
“It’s Y/N. Just Y/N.” They whispered into the silence left behind by the guard, confused and slightly overwhelmed by the events that had transpired. 
---
Y/N had never been good with change but this wasn’t the time to break down. London was in utter chaos. Billy, Spike, Leo, and Y/N were all going as fast as they could with an injured Billy and Y/N to find shelter in the cellar and wait for Bea and Jesse to hopefully close the Rip and everything to go back to normal. Just one more corner and they would be safe or as safe as they could be, when they ran into Sister Anna and two more people running from a possessed man. Quickly jumping into action one of the boys managed to subdue the man. Y/N couldn’t tell who it was since Leo made them look away and Y/N didn’t really have a choice as they were practically being carried/dragged by Leo. They offered sister Anna and her companions shelter with them in the cellar. 
Once inside everyone took a breath. Billy and Y/N leaned on each other while sitting next to a wall for support. They didn’t have peace for more than a moment when they all heard a pounding at the cellar entrance. Someone or something was trying to get inside and they weren’t being friendly about it. 
“It’s over. Even if we survive the monsters, it’s all gonna disappear anyway.” Billy said looking between Spike, Leo, and Y/N.
“I spent my whole life thinking I was the son of a hero then I found out he wasn’t… I thought maybe I could be one instead.” He continued looking straight ahead. Y/N tried to go comfort him but the pain in their thigh wouldn’t let them take more than a step towards him. He looked up at Y/N in thanks then looked towards Leo and said 
“People like us don't get to be heroes”.
“Hey! Hey!” Leo said. Y/N had never seen him as worked up before as he did right then looking at Billy. Feeling helpless Y/N could only look and listen.
“You’re just going to give up? Let them burst in here and attack us?” He asked, outraged at what he was witnessing from the strongest person he knew physically and emotionally.
“There’s nothing more to fight for.” Spike said a few ways away from Y/N making their eyes snap to his in disbelief.
“There’s each other.” Y/N quietly said looking at the three that they would fight for until their last breath. 
“Y/N is right! So long as we can fight for each other, we fight.” Leo said to the three of them but his eyes were locked with the love of his life determined to make sure they all live for more years and have more time together.
There was a tense silence in the air until Billy scoffed and three pairs of eyes turned to him.
“Who taught you to be such a badass?” He said directing his words at Leo making Y/N smile at him.
“You did. You all did.” Leo said without missing a beat. 
“Now, stand up and defend your home.” He said offering Billy and Y/N a hand each. 
Billy looked at him and then at Y/N and they both took the hands Leo offered to stand up. 
With that all said and done everyone picked up whatever object they could brandish as a weapon. 
Billy was offered a wooden cross by Leo, Spike still had his shotgun, Y/N had some knives that no one wanted to ask where they got, and Leo had his cane. They were all deathly terrified but with one last look at each other they knew that they were all worth it. Until they all heard it. Sister Anna and her companions were praying. Leo jumped into action first and tried to get them to stop but they paid him no mind and finished with an “Amen”. A heartbeat later, Sister Anna raised her head making Y/N try to pull Leo back as Sister Anna’s eyes were completely black. The four of them were horrified especially when Sister Anna broke the neck of her companions. Once she was done with them she turned her attention to the group of four with Sprike now in front.
“Stop! Stop, Sister, or I’ll shoot you!” Spike threatened with no luck. The Sister continued advancing towards the group making Spike shoot her making no difference.
“Heathen weapons cannot harm the anointed.” Sister Anna said before rapidly advancing towards them.
They ran/wobbled down the platform and down the small stairs with Leo almost falling.
“Y/N! Billy!” Leo called at them, ushering them forwards and helping Y/N hobble as fast as they could as Billy had a quicker pace even when injured. 
Spike stayed back and tried to fight off the demonized Sister Anna. Sister Anna got ahold of Spike’s shotgun and tossed it aside and then grabbed onto a shocked Spike and threw him through a wooden wall making him unresponsive.
“Spike!” Billy and Y/N yelled for their friend.
“Guys! Wait!” Billy tried to get them back with no such luck.
Billy and Y/N ran/hobbled towards Sister Anna, Billy holding on to her forearms and Y/N grabbing at her legs. Sister Anna pushed them both off her backhanding Y/N making them fall to the floor their vision wavering and kicking Billy in the stomach and then once on his broken leg and then pushing him so hard he slid across the floor and hit his head on a wall knocking him out. Sister Anna then turned her attention to the groaning Y/N whose vision cleared enough to see the demon going towards them. Leo seeing this and having a strong urge to protect Y/N as much as he could, advanced onto Sister Anna with his cane. Sister Anna mad that she couldn’t end Y/N grabbed the hand Leo had the cane in and broke it making Leo drop the cane he was holding and drop to the ground. Having seen the connection between Leo and Y/N, Sister Anna grinned and broke the cane making a part of it into a point and with it approached Y/N who was trying to crawl towards Leo. Grabbing Y/N from the back of her neck she lifted them and stabbed Leo’s cane through Y/N’s abdomen with supernatural force making the stab cut clean through their abdomen and into a wall a few feet away. Crying out from the impact Y/N vision turned black.
Feeling a rage he had never felt before Leo ran towards Sister Anna only to be grabbed by the jaw.
“You are unpure. I’ll baptize you before you die”. Sister Anna told him and threw him inside the water that goes into an area in the cellar and proceeded to “baptize” a struggling and unwilling Leo.
Wondering how they hadn’t passed out much less died, Y/N vision started slowly gaining colour and focusing. The first thing Y/N noticed was the pain and warmth that accompanied the injury on their thigh. Looking down and groaning Y/N recognized Leo’s cane embedded into their abdomen. Realizing what this could mean they looked around as much as they could without moving the cane around and could make out a few feet away Sister Anna standing inside the dirty cellar water. Y/N couldn’t tell what they were doing until they recognized a red jacket and dread washed upon them. 
No longer feeling the pain in their thigh and abdomen and frankly not caring. Their sole attention was on saving the one person that had ever made them feel loved,safe, and protected. Taking a breath, Y/N grasped the cane and with a quick movement pulled it out. Not having time to feel the pain, Y/N threw the cane to the side and as quick as they could tried their best to keep balanced as the blood loss was making them woozy. Hearing Leo gasping every time he managed to get some air into his lungs was all the motivation Y/N needed and with strength everyone but them knew they had they tackled Sister Anna into the water and off Leo who took the opportunity to take a much needed breath of air. 
Billy, who had woken up a few moments prior to Y/N tackling Sister Anna into the water, grabbed Leo out of the water and helped Y/N subdue Sister Anna who was now trying to drown Y/N. Having found one of Y/N blades near the dirty pool of water Billy managed to grab Sister Anna and when his blade was going to reach her, her eyes filled with light and were no longer black. Seeing this, Billy dropped her and Sister Anna cried out. 
Sighing in relief that it was over, Billy turned around to help Leo and Y/N out of the water and then found Spike hopefully still breathing.
They were going to live. They would have new scars but they would live.
---
After finding Spike and making sure he was OK everyone’s attention was to the heavily injured Y/N who seemed to have a high pain tolerance.
Billy and Spike left Y/N with Leo since he was the one constantly injured and knew what to do, at least until Dr. Watson could get there. 
Leo hadn’t said a word to Y/N and they couldn’t help but think that Leo was mad at them. He didn’t even meet their eyes as he made a makeshift gauze with one of Billy’s shirts and his jacket to stop the blood flow. 
“Are you mad at me?” Y/N asked hesitantly when they couldn’t take the silence. Leo didn’t answer. He stopped his movements making sure the makeshift bandages were tight enough. After a beat Leo sniffled and Y/N was immediately alarmed and reached towards his face to make him look at them. 
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Y/N softly asked, staring into Leo’s eyes hoping to get a hint as to where his mind’s currently at.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Leo said sniffling trying to pull away but Y/N kept his gaze firm to their eyes. 
“It’s not nothing Leopold. Something is eating away at you. C’mon darling, what’s wrong? If you want me to drop it for now until you wrap your head around it I won't mind you know that but I need to know that you’re OK” Y/N reassured the quietly crying boy wiping away his tears with their thumb.
“Y/N you were quite literally impaled. You could’ve. I could have lost-” Leo couldn’t finish his sentence before a sob broke through his throat and he hugged Y/N as tightly as he dared without causing them more pain.
Y/N knew what he was going to say and it was something they couldn’t imagine either. The mere idea of losing Leo was a horrible pain. Y/N would rather get impaled over and over again than lose someone as precious as Leo. 
“Not even being impaled will stop me from having your back Prince Leopold. You’re stuck with me” Y/N said into his neck.
Leo pulled back and connected their foreheads.
“I’d rather not have a repeat of you getting impaled ever again but I do quite enjoy the idea of being stuck with you” Leo said closing his eyes and letting out a smile.
Taking a shaky breath Y/N connected their lips in a sweet and salty kiss but neither cared. 
They were safe and they were stuck together and they wouldn’t change it for the world.
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sunsoothed · 4 years ago
Text
lightness
jang hanseo character study kinda fic i promised. i'm not sure if this is a character study anymore. i have no idea what this became. anyway! i wanted to explore hanseo and give him a bit of a backstory, so here it is!
*deep breath* content warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, physical abuse, blood, injury, canonical character death (not hanseo), recreational drug use, underage drug use, implied drug abuse
word count: 1866
read on ao3
hope you like it!
-
When Jang Hanseo is seven, he is acquainted with elder brother. Regal; nine-years-old and already hunting.
He still hides behind their father with him when he pretends to be terrified of the sound of gunfire.
Hanseo says nothing. He never brings up how his brother had thrown the bloodied rabbit and his rifle to the servant attending him, never brings up how thoroughly he washed his hands to hide the evidence of his independence from his father.
Never brings up how his brother assessed him with just a look and nothing more.
The first words Jang Hanseo’s brother says to him are as follows:
“Don’t call me hyung.”
Jang Hanseo blinks, traces his eyes over the leather of his brother’s jacket, over the blood that drips from his gloves, over the rifle he holds in his hands. He smiles.
“Okay, hyung-nim!”
A scoff, but some appraisal. Jang Hanseo doesn’t understand the half-smile he receives that autumn afternoon, but he remembers it until he beats his brother with a hockey stick, striking his head trice ‘til he’s out and his back once just for good measure, just to see the blood coming up to his mouth for him to choke on.
-
The first time his brother hits him, Jang Hanseo is eight. The ice rink is dark, and his brother is more geared up than he is.
Jang Hanseo misses thrice, scores once. He is rewarded with a swipe of the hockey stick on the back of his calf, and he thinks it is a game.
For that, he is rewarded with his first broken bone and a seared memory of a hand heavy on his throat. A laugh without mercy.
-
When Jang Hanseo is thirteen, he is offered alcohol at a party his father is hosting.
He declined, having seen first-hand what alcohol does to you, what a rage it puts his father in as he breaks porcelain, the scar he left on his mother’s cheek that lasted till the day she died.
-
When Jang Hanseo is fourteen, his brother kills four people. Classmates, he tells him, when he comes home with red speckled on his face. They weren’t worthy of being my classmates.
-
Jang Hanseo celebrates his fifteenth birthday with the diagnosis of his brother being a psychopath and accidentally tearing open the letter of a one-way ticket to the United States.
Instead of cake, he consumes his own blood, and instead of a pat on the back, he has a dislocated shoulder.
When he wakes a day later hooked to an IV, his brother is gone. The phantom of his laugh lives on, searing long into Hanseo’s conscience.
-
At fifteen-and-a-half, his father sends Hanseo to his grandmother’s for the summer. His father is undergoing a trial, on the charges of bribery, abetting murder, and perjury. With one son shipped off to the States and another to Jeju Island, he has no pawns he will feel ill about sacrificing. It’s not that he loves them. It’s that letting your son die because the ransom money you can very well afford would require you to take some shares out, and that’s too tedious of a process to go through.
So Jang Hanseo boards the short flight, stares out of the window for the longest one hour and fifteen minutes of his life so far. He’s never met his grandmother.
He wonders if she’s like his father, knowing she’s raised him, or if she’s worse.
She’s leagues different from anyone in his family.
Halmeoni scans him up and down when the driver drops him off at her estate. At the front door itself, she says, “We have a lot of fixing-up to do.”
It leaves an impression, that’s for sure.
-
The best summer of his life, Hanseo learns how to uproot weeds and catch a chicken without screaming like his life was being threatened. His halmeoni owns a farm, some 150 acres of greenery and animal and mansion.
Halmeoni teaches him first how to eat well, how to fill his plate and not feel bad about it, how to overeat and regret it. Halmeoni teaches him second that he is the most important person to himself; never his father, and not his hyung-nim.
Halmeoni teaches him third that he has no one else in the world but himself.
This, Jang Hanseo remembers the most.
(But his brother’s —)
-
With his brother’s absence, an anxiety sets into Hanseo’s veins so intensely that upon looking up his symptoms, he sees words like psychosis and personality disorder and promptly closes his laptop shut.
Unbidden, but not unwelcome, he remembers the rages his father fell into. He remembers the embers of gold in those small wide glasses that abeoji owned, remembers the crates of bottles that they used to have moved into the house. He also recalls the putrid smoke that used to emerge from the study. The smell of something burnt and something that made him cough so hard it alerted his father of his presence.
It’s in the boys washroom that he smells the scent again. By the open window, out curls smoke.
Jang Hanseo catches the eye of the assailant. Oh Yeonwoo will get him into this mess and then out. He will be Hanseo’s first true friend.
-
Jang Hanseo tries it for the first time on the terrace of the school. One joint between the two of them and nothing but heaving coughs from him until he learns how to take air after smoke and allow its natural passage back up. The joint is over by then, and Hanseo feels nothing.
Yeonwoo bumps their shoulders together, carelessly tossing the filter over the railing of the terrace. “You’ll get the hang of it,” He assures. “I didn’t even make it after a couple of joints, so you’re doing better than me already.”
Hanseo lends him a half-smile. Better than him, he thinks. When have I ever been better than anyone?
“Hanseo-yah, what’re you thinking with that scowl, hm?” Yeonwoo bumps their shoulders together again. “You’re so scary when you space out.”
“I am?”
Yeonwoo nods again. Hanseo notes something hazy in his eyes, something completely unguarded in his demeanour. He blinks cautiously.
“Hanseo-yah,” Yeonwoo whines, “Stop staring at me.”
“I’m not,” He replies. “Are —” Are you okay? Hanseo was going to ask. Stupid. Yeonwoo has settled against his shoulder now, humming some tune. He stretches his legs out in front of him and sways his feet to the rhythm. He seems better than okay.
So this is what it does, Hanseo thinks. Lightness. He wants to be light.
-
And so, Jang Hanseo, age sixteen, falls into something whose magnitude he cannot guess. Addiction is only the half of it. The other half had started the day Yeonwoo showed him something called shotgunning, which had taken his first kiss and his first experience with intoxication whose harm had lasted longer than its euphoria.
When he lies beside Yeonwoo, all too hot and all too cold, unable to distinguish which fingers are his when they hold hands, he finds it. The lightness. When Yeonwoo turns and exhales into his neck, prickling sweat and prickling hair to stand on edge, Hanseo smiles.
And when Hanseo wakes up, the dread in his gut is deeper than it’s ever been.
(— his brother’s —)
-
So it seems that boys with no family and boys with brothers who know nothing but violence and boys with a terrible, terrible blankness to them can also, by some grace of humanity, fall in love. And so it seems, as Hanseo feels the telltale thumping of his heart and lightness in his abdomen, that Yeonwoo will keep having this effect on him.
Subtlety, Yeonwoo tells him, the afternoon they sit on the roof and stare at the sky and at the smoke. Subtlety will let you get away with everything.
Subtle touches, then. Hanseo’s fingers lingering a moment too long on Yeonwoo’s arm, Hanseo’s hand firm between his shoulder blades. Subtle words, and subtle smiles, and subtle smoke between their mouths as they chase lightness.
Subtle kisses, too, when Hanseo feels he can see his own eyes in Yeonwoo’s, when Hanseo still finds the thrill of sealing his lips with Yeonwoo’s to be a minefield of his own feelings. Subtle kisses that Yeonwoo always blackens — drags them down into teeth and tongue and desire. Hanseo doesn’t know, then, that this is what differentiates them. What puts him on a curved, unshapely parabola and Yeonwoo on a straight line.
Feral, Hanseo once thinks, his gaze only slightly unclouded, as Yeonwoo bites at his lips, his neck. Feral, in the way he never kisses to coax Hanseo’s mouth open; never to cherish feeling. Only to chase after something so much deeper.
-
At seventeen, Jang Hanseo implodes from heartbreak.
Transfer student. Short, ebony hair, in that oh-so-timeless straight bob. He has a nice smile, even Hanseo can tell, and he has a charming walk. He’s also assigned a seat beside him. This, of all things, was the catalyst.
Yeonwoo didn’t want to kiss him anymore. Yeonwoo wanted to smoke with him, but Yeonwoo also bought a new companion along with him. Yeonwoo, it seemed, never wanted what Hanseo did. Yeonwoo, it seemed, never felt the way Hanseo did.
Hanseo knows that he knew, somewhere, beneath what his world had become, that this would not stand for long. Its foundations were, in the end, smoke.
-
But it does not surprise him, Hanseo thinks, seventeen and a quarter, something vile in his veins. It does not surprise him that he’s here.
His head hits, dully, the floor under him. He laughs. And he laughs some more, as the world turns from dust to sky to ocean. And he waits for the servants to find him in his father’s study.
-
They tell him that he’s lucky, later, in the hospital. Jang Hanseo thinks this is what death feels like, on the verge of eighteen. He states blinking at the ceiling. Hospital rooms are white on all six sides, and heaven is supposed to be white on all six sides as well. He wants to laugh, so he does.
And it hurts.
Hanseo stops laughing.
(— his brother’s laugh —)
-
Hanseo laughs. Ten years past, ten years perished, Hanseo laughs until his heart hurts. His brother’s heart is still beating. His blood is still warm, the three hits to his head and one to his back hadn’t kept him down. Hanseo laughs as the blood splatters on his face, sprinkled red on his chin and lips, a sprinkled red dancing in his eyes as he brings the hockey stick down, down, down.
For everything Hanseok has made him — less, more, just enough. For all these little things that had changed Hanseo more than broken bones could. For lost love. For things that weren’t, in the end, Hanseok’s fault.
Hanseo beats him till his heart stops fighting back and the blood pooled in his mouth flows quietly. Till Hanseo feels no fight left in him, and then some, till the exhaustion in him takes over.
Hanseo slumps over his brother’s dead body, and Hanseo laughs.
(But his brother’s laugh will always be louder.)
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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years ago
Text
(Gen Start-Up) Not Worth It pt. 1
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{Reader gets sent from our world to middle earth and falls in love with either Fili/Kili/Thoron or heck maybe all three, I'll leave that up to you, and upon coming to middle earth they get the healing powers. All they gotta do is put their hands on the person and concentrate. BUT these healing abilities have a cost if the injury is severe. Maybe they either transfer the injury to themselves until it evens out between the two? Or it takes a lot of energy from them and if they use it too much they will die. Then Reader tries to heal Thorin/Kili/Fili at the end." --- Britishfajita}
Fluff and Slight Angst
Authors Note: This is the beginning of a wonderful three (or maybe more) part connected series! Same reader for all three of the Durin's who I plan to make this for. There may be multiple parts for them, idk yet. We'll just see what happens :D!
The Durins/Reader
----
You could have been so extraordinary in your past life.
Special, wanted, powerful.
And, to some extent, you were wanted and desired, but you could never deliver on those expectations and hopes.
Your special ability to heal, ease pain, and help others was never anything special where you lived. Many people had healing abilities similar to and better than yours, and most, if none, had the drawbacks that yours did.
Where normal healers can use their powerful auras to mend and strengthen others to accelerate the healing process, yours is much more of a give and take, parasitic relationship between 'doctor' and patient. Instead of your aura enhancing the healing ability of others, it instead participates in a transfer that can leave you wounded yourself.
You retain your ability to heal and, essentially, switch auras in a wound transferral. You do not always inherit the wounds of those you heal, however.
Depending on the severity of an injury, you may be left winded, tired, or extremely hungry, but in more serious instances, the damages completely transfer to you instead.
The best way to exemplify this would be to explain how you found out about this horrible symbiotic relationship in the first place.
Your parents knew you were a healer from a young age, for there are individuals who test all children in schools to determine what classes they will need to hone their abilities, and they figured out your ameliorative nature rather easily.
The fatigue and pain you sometimes felt during training and classes was just chalked up to your control and aura being weaker, for your parasitic power was something very uncommon at the time.
It happened during your first ever shift at the local hospital.
Up to this point you've only ever dealt with smaller wounds because of your easy fatigue and exhaustion, but this day was different.
A disaster struck a nearby bank that left 40 people, and counting, injured, and it was all hands on deck. Every person on staff had somethings to do, and when a young woman with debris sticking out of her abdomen came rolling in, you were the only one free to help at the time.
You took up the assignment without hesitation, but as soon as you began to heal her, something felt different.
There was no weakness at first, something very alien to you, and you were able to heal her in record time for even one of the most skilled (and normal) healers, only, you eventually realized that something wasn't right.
The pain you felt that day was horrible and unimaginable, and you went down in a matter of moments.
It wasn't until 5 minutes later that someone found you unconscious on the ground, pale and barely breathing. If it weren't for your current location, you certainly would've died that day.
That young woman had been saved and, somehow, her power had been enhanced as well after your treatment, but it left your aura damaged and practically sucking the life out of you following her miraculous recovery.
The whole premise of your power is the nature of give and take. You give a piece of your aura to someone else to heal and enhance them (be it their power, strength, wakefulness, or anything else), and in return you take a part of theirs and become weakened depending on how much you give, needing to rest and regenerate what you gave away in that moment. You can also heal yourself of your own, personally received wounds without incident, which is rather strange.
For most, there is a finite amount of their aura that they can ever have throughout the duration of their lives, but your supply is nearly endless. However, the more you spend healing or helping, the more you lose. You can regenerate your aura forever, but if you keep going without ceasing, then your life will eventually begin to drain too, to compensate for your loss.
It isn't an instant process, though, for it takes time for your body to catch up to how much of your power you spend, so you had to train really hard from that moment on to ensure that you never spend more than you've earned.
If it weren't for this fateful vice of yours, you'd probably be one of the most powerful healers in your world; the only limit to the wounds you may heal is your own aura and life force, and the amount of time it takes all depends on your concentration and intent.
Because of this, you became unwanted.
Unwanted in a sense that, people did want you to help them become stronger, but no organization or job wanted to hire such a liability, and those with such horrible vices are always subject to horrible criticism and scrutiny, so you eventually just stopped using your ability altogether.
It isn't until you fall into Middle Earth that you start to habitually use your powers again, and it's because of the life-threatening journey you're forced to join.
Here in Middle Earth, however, you're one of a kind.
There is healing magic and those gifted with the knowledge of higher level healing, but your ability to heal simply using your hands and mind is something totally unheard of.
The Company of Thorin Oakenshield were the poor unfortunate souls that you scared half to death on the day you arrived in Middle Earth.
You came, quite literally, out of nowhere.
One second you were washing the dishes in your house and the next you were unconscious in another world.
From their perspective you came falling out of a tall tree, nothing to break your fall other than the cold, unforgiving dirt below, and it successfully gave everyone a huge scare.
Your right arm seemed to have broken and you were horribly battered and bruised, and the dwarfs, hobbit, and lone wizard couldn't just leave you there.
They made camp for the night and made you as comfortable as possible, hoping above all else that you'll wake up at some point, and you eventually do. Though, it isn't a nice or very calm occurrence.
When you finally woke up to a new hat and 4 thick wool blankets smothering you, you freaked out.
At first, you thought someone had kidnapped you or something, but the calm, old wizard named 'Gandalf' managed to calm you and explain that you're not healthy enough to be thrashing and panicking so frantically.
That's when you shocked them all.
You managed to kick off those pesky blankets and shake off that too-warm, but also soft hat, and get a look at yourself, and you were dismayed to see so much of your skin marred with bruises, cuts, scrapes, welts, etc, and your broken arm was unsightly enough to make you nearly sick.
"I-I'll fix it then, I guess." You grumbled nervously, laying back down in the heaping pile of blankets to focus on mending your broken and shattered bones, re-weaving your muscles together, and accelerating the healing of the more superficial wounds.
By the time you were nearly completely healed you were too tired to finish fixing the cuts, scrapes, and other lacerations, so they were left as week-old injuries that had been scabbed over and mostly fixed.
When your eyes fluttered open again you were, once again, shocked to see multiple people leaning over you with awestruck expressions, and you realized in that moment that things were even less right than you initially feared.
Rather quickly did you realize and accept that you were no longer in the same place or time as you were before, but the news was actually fairly easy to accept because of the nature of your past life.
You were probably accidentally sent here by someone with power over the space-time continuum, and it's impossible to come back from one of those accidents. You didn't trouble yourself with coming up with a way to go back home, because you knew for a fact that it was over. You'll be here until the day you die.
You made fast friends with the two younger Durin brothers, for they were always full of questions and curiosity for you and your abilities. Many times have you had to heal them as well, for they're quite prone to trouble.
Small things were always easy to heal, so your powers proved to make you not only a very desired part of the group, but the subject of heavy praise and kind words; it's wonderful and new, for you were neither wanted nor praised in your old home once your crippling vice made itself present.
Night after night you helped them to sleep, gave them the strength to carry on, rid them of discomforts and small, painful wounds, and, essentially, made the original healer of the group, Oin, obsolete (in a good way for him, of course). Oin taught you some things about natural medicine and was, ultimately, allowed to focus on rest and fighting (which you assume is good for a dwarf of his age).
Being needed and relied on feels like heaven, and for the first time in 5 years, you have a purpose.
The true nature of your healing powers didn't become apparent to them until the fight following the Goblin Tunnels, for Thorin Oakenshield is nearly fatally wounded in his fight against Azog the Defiler, and he's left weak and dying.
The group runs as fast as their feet can carry them as those wargs and nasty orcs draw near, chasing all of you to a cliffside with plentiful trees and nowhere to go.
It's a dead end, and those foul creatures know as much.
You aren't much of a fighter so Bofur and Fili keep you ahead of them, urging you to climb the far tree with Gandalf and some of the others, and you do so without hesitation.
Fear drives your frantic climbing and trembling muscles, and, with great effort, you manage to climb far enough that those horrible dog beasts cannot reach you.
Everyone manages to climb a tree and avoid a violent death that would leave them in pieces, and you're relieved to see that there isn't much the enemy can do in this moment; that is, until they begin to uproot the trees and push everyone further back into the barely hanging on tree you already reside in.
There is absolutely no way this flimsy tree will hold all of you for long if the wargs loosen the soil around the roots, and it seems that you're not the only one to notice this.
Gandalf prepares the perfect pinecone ammo that serves as an excellent enemy deterrent, for the flames burning within the heart of the pinecones spread easily and set the cliffside alight.
The wargs retreat to escape a fiery death, but the triumph doesn't last long, for the tree begins to creak and groan as it dips beneath the weight of all 15 of you.
"T-The tree's going to fall!" You cry hopelessly, unsure what to do.
A fall from this height would kill everyone before you even had a chance to try and heal them, and this knowledge leaves an empty, useless hole in your heart.
"Everything will work out the way it's supposed to, Master Healer." The grey wizard tells you, though you can hear the unease and slight panic in his voice as well.
You open your mouth to say more, but movement catches in your peripherals and you turn your head to see what it is.
There stands Thorin Oakenshield on the thick trunk of the tree, facing the white orc with murder and hate shining in his blue-gray eyes, and your heart drops all the way down to the violent deaths below you when you realize what it is he plans to do.
The to-be King Under the Mountain abandons the tree and meets the orc in a battle, albeit short, and he loses.
Just by looking at the way that albino dog uses him like a chew toy is enough to fill you with dread, and when another orc goes in for the dying blow, you're fully prepared to experience this horrible tragedy, only it never happens.
That brave little hobbit, Bilbo, challenges the rest of the goblins one on one, and his bravery encourages everyone able to get back up and fight.
Only, this secondary fight doesn't last for terribly long, for these huge, magnificent birds come soaring out of seemingly nowhere, and they scoop up each and every one of you.
Cue a short, but also liberating, journey to the nearest, safe area (which just so happened to be a secluded and inaccessible mountain top).
As soon as your feet touch the ground you're being scooped up into a strong pair of arms, and the perpetrator breathes your name with relief on their lips.
"Are you alright?" It's Kili, the taller of the two Durin brothers.
You nod your head once and hug him in response, winding your toned healer arms tightly around his shoulders for a few beats before you pull away.
A quick glance around shows you that some of the others still have yet to touchdown on the peak with all of you, so you instead move to Fili, who had rode to his brother, and hug him next.
The blond heir firmly locks his thick arms around your middle and holds you to him for a moment, but his arms disappear as soon as Thorin is gently dropped to the ground, bloodied and broken.
Gandalf rushes over to the heavily wounded dwarf and kneels down next to his unmoving form, and Bilbo runs up behind him with wide, stunned eyes.
You pull away from Fili and rush to Thorin's side without hesitation, falling to your knees beside him as you immediately hover your palms over his body to find the biggest issues ailing him.
The internal bleeding catches your attention right away, caused by the bone crushing bite from the white warg, and you start working on healing that without hesitation.
You know that a wound such as this will hurt you, but it doesn't halt your frantic healing for even a second.
The mountain peak is dead silent while you work your magic on the unconscious Thorin, the knowledge that they would be lost without him spurring you on, and in a matter of 5 minutes he's groaning and his eyes are opening.
You feel nothing at first which tells you that soon his damaged aura will begin affecting you, so you slowly rise to your feet and move away from the still grounded Thorin to avoid falling on him if you do go down.
Pats on the back and praises are thrown your way as you separate yourself from the king, but they cease the moment Fili worriedly asks, "Wait- What... what's wrong?" He seemed to have noticed your shaky movements right away as your health begins to deplete.
You step up to Gandalf and place your hand gently onto his shoulder, mumbling with slurred words, "Gandalf, I should've told you before..."
The old man looks up at you with worried eyes, and he rises to his feet so he can grasp your trembling arms with gentle hands, "You should have 'told me before'? Told me what?"
"I..." You begin to speak, but you're unable to form another coherent thought as your legs suddenly give out from beneath you, and you slump forward into the cloaked wizard.
Gandalf releases your arm at light speed and catches you around the waist, slowly lowering you down to the ground before your eyes slide shut and your consciousness fades in place of Thorin's.
---
Gandalf the Gray was not too happy with you when you woke up sometime later, having had to save you after you saved Thorin with no prior knowledge regarding the truth about your ability.
He scolded you first, calling your actions foolish and scaring you with information on how you could have died had it been any worse and had he been any worse at his job, and then he thanked you.
"But even so, still must I say with the utmost gratitude; thank you. The service you provided was well beyond what we asked for, and much more than we deserved. After all you've been through and done for us, you would have been right to keep to yourself and not heal him. You are a very good person, Y/N, and I should like to see you survive this journey."
Is he telling you not to heal people anymore, or is he telling you to be more careful, you wonder.
Apparently this situation scared everyone shitless, because as soon as Gandalf was done getting on your case, you received countless apologies for having you heal small, meaningless wounds and for the other things you've done for them.
Of course, you tried to explain that the smaller boosts and injuries are nothing for you, but you were still apologized to a whole bunch anyways.
Fili and Kili's apologies stuck out to you the most, however.
When everyone felt better knowing that they'd informed you that you no longer need to waste your power healing them and the excitement died down, the two brothers approached with sad expressions darkening their handsome faces.
"You should have told us that we were hurting you." The dark-haired dwarf informed you sadly, taking up one of your hands in his carefully.
"We wouldn't have bothered you so much if we knew." The blond-haired brother agrees, swiping up your other hand in one of his.
Their words make you grimace, and you try to console them. "No, the smaller things don't hurt at all! I don't 'get hurt' because I heal you, I only suffer when it's a major wound that needs to heal more than just the body."
Their expressions don't change and they don't seem to fully believe you, so you try to explain in simpler terms.
You squeeze both their hands weakly, still needing rest to regenerate your own aura, then reiterate, "Think of it this way. You've got a huge jug of water about this big," you make a big circle with your arms, " and it's completely full. Now, if you take a sip of the water when you get a little thirsty and look inside again, it will look the exact same, and you can refill it super quickly... now, if you and a few others are super thirsty, dehydrated, and you need to take big drinks then it drains even more, and very soon it's almost a quarter empty. It takes longer to fill it up then, because there's way less because of how thirsty you were."
They both look at you and nod their heads slowly in understanding, but you simplify it a little more after that.
"So, what I'm trying to say is that if I do something small like help you sleep or heal a cut, maybe mend a headache, I'll only feel a little tired if that, but if it's something horrible like Thorin's wound, then it affects me more severely. It almost transfers to me, but not the physical injury, just the effect of it while my 'power' heals yours."
Everyone is listening at this point, and it seems that they all gain a better understanding of what you can do.
It seems Gandalf figured it out, though, judging by his unsurprised expression and slightly proud smile (pride because of your easy to understand explanation, most likely).
"So... what about now, then?" Kili asks, still holding your hand by your side, "What do you need?"
"To rest. Only for a little while until my water replenishes."
---
It's going to take around a day for your aura to heal and your strength to return, but, unfortunately, you don't have the luxury to just lay back and relax like you want.
You all had to stay on the move, so the dwarfs took turns carrying you on their backs.
At first you denied any and all requests for piggy back rides, embarrassed by the mere thought of being hauled around all day while you wait for your aura to heal, but it goes that way regardless.
First it's Fili and Kili, then Dori (the strongest *according to the book*), Dwalin, and, finally, Thorin.
Thorin carried you for around an hour or so, and each step he took was careful. He wanted to make your ride as comfortable as possible, and he was succeeding for the most part (you're as comfortable as someone on a piggyback ride can be).
"How are you feeling?" You ask at some point, adjusting your gentle grip around his shoulders as you do.
"I should be the one asking you that question." He replies without missing a beat, turning his head to the left slightly to catch a glimpse of you.
You don't say anything right away, looking at him with a small frown before countering, "Okay, but I asked your first."
"Truthfully, it shames me to say that I feel very good at the moment. My strength has returned tenfold, and I feel as if I've just recovered from a long rest."
"It shames you?" You ask softly, leaning your head against his carefully, "Don't let it. I chose to do that knowing fully well what I was getting myself into."
Thorin sighs heavily and shifts his grip on your legs, "I do not wish to treat you as a child. I respect your choice, but I must implore that you do not waste your life on me. It simply isn't worth it. You're too precious."
You feel your face heat up and you find that you become slightly embarrassed. "Thank you Thorin, but I think that a king is slightly more important then a commoner from another world."
"No... a king is only as strong as his people, friends, and allies. And I happen to value you as all three."
You don't argue or disagree this time and instead just nod your head once, "Then I'll say thank you again."
The rest of your conversations with Thorin are much more light hearted and wholesome, and you find that this piggyback riding isn't as bad as you initially though it would be.
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everlastingdreams · 4 years ago
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Weeping Monk x Reader : Playing With Fire        chapter 19
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Story Summary:  The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.
Chapter Summary:  You are still in a state of shock after what happened and Lancelot questions why you had wished to show mercy to the Huntsman.
Notes: Maybe I’ll post 20 in a bit as well, I don’t know. Took me 2 hours to proofread this one yikes. At least I made a new gif so there.
Warnings:  None, I think.
Word count: 2038 words in this chapter.
Chapter:  19/ 33+ something (buckle up, it’s a wild ride.)
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After riding like that for hours, you felt yourself grow more relaxed holding onto Lancelot. You didn't hate him like you had once done, you didn't know how to feel about him now. Could you trust him ? It felt so confusing. Still, you felt yourself grow tired after all this time without proper sleep and rested your head against his back. You hated to admit that feeling him breath calmly like this almost made you doze off. The thought that you might fall off the horse was what kept you awake. He had felt you lean closer against him, felt your head resting against his back and how you seemed more comfortable with holding on to him like this. Lancelot worried you would fall asleep and end up plummeting off of Goliath. It was time to halt somewhere and offer Goliath some rest as well. The last thing he wanted was to exhaust the loyal horse. He finally halted the horse near a river bank. He helped the boy off of the horse first before helping you, and he noticed you were having some difficulty dismounting. The Huntsman had not been merciful to you, and neither had his henchmen. When one of them had pushed you back to the ground with his boot, it had been in the spot where the boy had spotted the large bruise. And before that, the Huntsman had brutally kicked you in the stomach.
He would offer to check on them to see the severity of your bruises or injuries but he feared you would not appreciate the offer. Lancelot could feel that you did not trust him yet, you were not afraid but it did not mean you were comfortable around him. Lastly he dismounted and winced when he felt the thread on one of his sewed up wounds pull at his skin. The fey medicine you had given him had blocked out most of the pain, now he regretted not taking that chest with him. He could have made you drink the rest of that fey medicine instead of watching you be in pain now. You were glad he had picked this place to stop, so close to a river. You held a hand tightly against your abdomen. You felt the familiar burning pain that you had felt many times before, but it was worse this time. Draegan had kicked you before but never this brutally. You looked down at your hands, blood was stuck to them. And then you remembered that drops of his blood were also on your face.
Lancelot had noticed the shift in your behaviour and watched as you walked a small distance away from them before you knelled besides the river.
“Is she going to be alright ?” The boy looked up at him with a look of doubt.
A look that he shared with the boy “I'll go and see.”
“What should I do then ?” Percival was starting to sound bored.
“Do you know how to make a fire ?” He looked down at the boy, already guessing the answer when the boy looked at him as if he had insulted him.
“Do I look stupid to you ?” The boy shook his head, visibly irritated “You're not the only one who can set things on fire, you know ?”
The boy had a way to mentally slap him with his words, it was definitely one of Percival's talents. He elected to ignore that last sentence “Collect some firewood, and...set it on fire. It will be dark soon.”
“And you will talk to y/n while I do that ?” The boy seemed interested in that, there was a hidden undertone in his question.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment when he detected the undertone “Yes...what else would I do ?”
Even though the boy was nowhere near his height he stared him down for a moment before shrugging his shoulders “Alright then.”
He was perplexed by the boy's reaction, Percival seemed rather protective over you. But then again, you had always been kind to the boy so it should not come as a suprise. Lancelot turned to look in your direction and watched as you washed your hands in the river, one look at you and the memory of his own reaction to killing someone for the first time came back to him.
You were shaking when the water from the river streamed through your hands and watched as the water turned pink. The memory of you stabbing Draegan and watching as he collapsed to the ground flooded your mind. It happened so fast and you still couldn't believe that was your instinctive reaction. You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to rub your hands roughly, wanting to wash away the results of your unspeakable actions. Only when the skin of your hands started to hurt, did you stop. The blood was gone, but you could still feel it's phantom lingering, as if it had sunken into your skin. You wanted that feeling to go away, to be erased. But no matter how long you would try and wash it off, you knew it would taint you forever.
You were indeed the Huntsman's sister. A killer just like he was. You closed your eyes and felt the tears stream down your face. Your parents would never have forgiven you if they had still been alive. All of your kin was gone now, your brother had murdered your sister and now you had murdered your brother. When you heard quiet footsteps approach you quickly washed the blood and tears from your face. You didn't bother looking behind you when you heard him get closer, there was only one person you knew that was able to walk this quietly. He had always caught you off-guard because of it.
Lancelot had tried to think of something to say while he was walking over to you, but they had vanished from his mind when he noticed the tears staining your cheeks before you had washed them away. After a moment of silence he could only state what he believed was true “You did the right thing, y/n.”
“The right thing ?” You scoffed in disbelieve, it was audible how upset you were “I killed someone, I killed my own brother !”
He looked down at you, watching how you fought back the tears that were so evidently forming in your eyes “You had no other choice. He was not going to stop ! Had you not pushed me away when you did, I doubt we would both be here now.”
Deep down you knew Lancelot was right, but the guilt was clouding your mind.
“Why did you stop me then ? His blood would have been on my hands, not yours.” He still questioned why you had asked him to show mercy to the Huntsman.
You looked up at him and let out a sigh "Violence should never be the norm. Maybe he could have changed his ways.”
He found the mercy you had shown towards your brother both odd and admirable “Would he have shown you the same compassion ?” He knew the answer, but he was curious if you realised that the Huntsman wouldn't have blinked twice if you died.
You shook your head and let out a bitter laugh “He would have sold me off like cattle if I stopped serving his purpose. You heard what he said, what he would have let his men do...”
Lancelot had heard the threat, he had heard it loud and clear, and he had wanted to have the satisfaction of killing the Huntsman himself because of it.
“He has hurt you before...has he not ?” He gingerly reached down to touch your arm with the tips of his fingers, the one that he knew was covered in the bruises he had seen that day in the forest. You looked at his hand lightly touching your lower arm, the sleeve of your jacket covered the evidence he was referring to.
You nodded in silence, and then you felt him lightly touching your jaw, making you tilt your head so your neck was more exposed. You looked up at him and saw how he was looking at the bruises in your neck now.
“Many times ?” His fingers were almost touching your neck now.
You moved a little out of his reach and he moved his hand away “Many enough. It was worse when I was defiant, as you have seen.”
He was eerily quiet, ever since he met you he had known you to be defiant. You had shown him almost nothing else but defiance for so long, and it dawned on him that even with his reputation you always had been less afraid of him then you were of the Huntsman. Otherwise you had not shown him such defiance all this time.
Lancelot suspected what the answer to his question would be, but he wanted to hear the truth from you “Why didn't you leave ? If he hurt you... why not leave ?”
You shrugged your shoulders, a sad smile on your lips as you looked at the water “He was my kin and he did terrible things. If I stayed I could help those he wished to harm. I couldn't just turn away knowing that I could make a difference. As long as I stayed close I could help the fey.”
He swallowed thickly, he felt horrible thinking back to all the times he had threatened your life. You were suffering all this time and him hounding you had only added to that. He saw pieces of himself in you, both withstanding the silent suffering beside the ones who sought to 'cleanse' the fey.
A bitter chuckle escaped you “Besides, I have no one else. He murdered my sister, he practically raised me. Well...raised...”
By raised you meant he had practically shoved you into the hands of anyone close enough at that moment, to be cared for. Of course the people of Mirstone did not like the responsibility of caring for the little sister of the feared Huntsman, so they shoved some food in your hands out of pity before leaving you to yourself. You often spoke to the other children, but friendship was not an option. The parents would not allow their children to bond with you, it wasn't until you were almost an adult that the people you had grown up with started to treat you like a normal person. But it was not friendship. They feared the Huntsman too much to get close to his sister.
The words escaped him before he could stop them, because to him they were a truth that needed to be voiced “You're not alone anymore, y/n.”
You frowned when you heard him say that and looked up at him questioningly. He shifted on his feet, something he had always done when he was uncomfortable. What had he meant by that ? Did he... ?
Finally he cleared his throat and gestured in the direction of the boy “He needs us.”
It was not how he wanted to tell you this, but he worried how you would respond if he outrightly told you that he wished to remain in your presence. So he had pointed out that the boy needed both him and you and hoped you would understand the unspoken truth.  
You looked in the direction of the boy “Oh...”
For a moment you had thought he was talking about himself, you caught yourself feeling silently disappointed that that was not the case. You brushed the strange feeling aside and quirked a brow at him “Well, according to him he doesn't need us.”
Lancelot looked in the direction of the boy again before smirking down at you “Who else will tell him that if he makes that fire any larger they will see us all the way back to Mirstone ?”
You quickly whipped your head around and saw how large the fire already was, and when Percival tossed another piece of firewood in it you jumped to your feet. Lancelot was looking impressed by it, and you groaned in frustration before making your way over to the boy.
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violetnotez · 5 years ago
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Omg I know anon poor baby is always getting hurt! 🥺 I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it!
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Genre: Fluff, PG
Word Count: 2951
Warnings: none!
Summary: Izuku expects to find himself with Recovery Girl after he gets hurts in training yet again. How surprised he is to find it’s actually you who gets to take care of his wounds.
Prompt: #2, “You wanna get out of here?” for the @bnhabookclub Provisional Licensing Event!
(Here’s the link)
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Izuku’s leg jumped as he waited impatiently in the sterile white room. 
This was now the 3rd time he was in the nursing office this week alone, and it was beginning to exasperate him how easily his body could get damaged in simple training.
He had to work to be harder. Faster. Stronger.
And he couldn’t do that without getting a little torn up and beaten up-it’s the fact he didn’t know when to stop that was the trouble.
Recovery Girl had told him that multiple times since he had became a regular visitor in her office, even threatening to speak to Aizawa-Sensei and revoke some of his training hours. 
That was the very last thing Izuku ever wanted to happen: he had to train. But he laso had to put everything into it: if he didn’t, how wouldnt ever get better.
Izuku heard a door inside the office open, looking up to meet Recovery Girl with a sheepish grin. 
But to his surprise, it wasn’t Recovery Girl-it was a student. 
They didn’t seem to notice him at first as they began to rummage in filing cabinets, their fingers nimbly searching through the organized folders.
Izuku stared with reddened cheeks-they were pretty cute.
But where was Recovery Girl? Maybe they were her assistant, but no, he was in the nurses office so much he would have known-
“Um, excuse me? Are you injured-do you need help?” The attractive person asked, their eyes looking down at him. They were right in front of him now, staring at him with an amused smirk as he thought out loud.
Izuku yelped, realizing a moment too late that he was mumbling again. His whole face became enveloped in red, his freckles much more prominent as he looked up.
“No-actually, um-yes, yes, I am hurt, just not badly,its really just a scratch -“ he was rambling again, instantly stopping as he realized how silly he sounded. His cheeks were on fire, and he was feeling so sheepish and dumb. Why couldn’t he form a single sentence correctly? This person was just too attractive, he couldn’t think straight-
He was surprised to here the person chuckle, their body bending down to be at eye level with him.
“Why am I not surprised Izuku Midoriya is in the nurses office again?” You grinned at his clearly shocked face, his green eyes wide with bewildernment.
“How-how do you know my name?” He asked, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.
You smiled at the nervous boy, your eyes drinking in his face-he was pretty attractive, his cheeks dusted with pink and his freckles scattered around his face like stars. His eyes were a pretty shade of forest green, his messy hair matching it perfectly.
You knew you should be checking for his vitals and any obvious injuries that were life threatening, thats what you’ve been taught after all-but if he had enough blood to blush that hard a few moments ago, he was more than likely fine.
“Well, your practically a honorary resident in the office at this point” you smiled playfully.
You remember him? That made Izuku’s heart soar, knowing somebody as cute as you could actually recall who he was.
Izuku felt a twinge of guilt though, because if you had seen him so many other times, why was this his first time seeing you?
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, really,” he stuttered out, “but I don’t-seem to remember you-“
“Oh, don’t feel bad!” You comforted him, “Ive only just started interning with Recovery GIrl these past two weeks,”
“My name’s y/n.” you gave him a warm smile, making Izuku’s insides feel fuzzy.
You began to rummage in the cabinet on the wall, pulling out a small first aid- kit.
“You just happen to hear alot of things once your around teachers more,” you answered his question happily, opening the kit on the bed Izuku was sitting on.
“Like-like what?” he was a little concerned by that- were the teachers in some way talking negatively about him?
You noticed the way his expression changed to worry, giving him a calm smile.
“Its nothing bad, dont worry,” you reassured him, “Recovery Girl actually has quite a soft side for you- its just shes worried about how hard you work yourself.
“You definitely have a reputation for getting yourself pretty banged up, dont’cha?” you giggled at the way Izuku gave you such a guilty, sheepish grin as he fidgeted with his scarred hands.
He chuckled along with you, “More a less- I guess…”
He watched you pull out items from the white box:soft gauze, a vile of clear liquid, fluffy cotton balls, brand new bandages-
“If you dont mind me asking- is Recovery Girl not here today?” he asked
“Nope! Shes on break right now,” you explained, pulling a chair from under the bed he was sitting on, “so you got me for today,”
You scouted the chair in close, so you were practically in between Izuku’s legs and looking right up at him. He felt his body heat up from the sudden closeness-you seemed so calm, collected, and in control, while he was feeling like nervous wreck from how close you were..
“So, you injured your side, right? On the left?” you asked, looking at the torn clothing on his abdomen.
He gave you a curt nod, his green curls bouncing slightly.
 You looked up at him suddenly, his breath stopping in his chest.
“Mind if I look?” you asked, your voice sweet like honey.
“Uh, sure go ahead- just, be careful- its pretty, bruised-”
“Oh, dont worry ‘Zuku, Ill be gentle,” you sent the boy a wink, making his head spin.
Wait- were you flirting with him?
He felt your hands gingerly prod against his PE shirt, the fabric practically worthless around his injury. Your hand left a ticklish feeling against his skin, like kisses trailing along the surface. They sent his stomach into a frenzy, making it felt like it was made out of cotton. 
You hand reached lower, towards his 4th rib bone, prodding slightly as you went along. Izuku instinctively hissed in pain as you touched a certain spot- that was the most tender area by far.
 You gave him a worried expression, a quiet sorry spilling out of your lips as you retracted your hand.
You rested your chin against your fingers, your lips pouted out slightly as you sat there deep in thought.
“You definitely got a good injury there-” you concluded, “but Im not too worried about it. A couple bandages and maybe something for the bruising….and you should be good to go!”
Izuku breathed a sigh of relief, being careful to not exhale too much in order to not irritate his wound.
“Thats a relief!”
You looked down, your teeth catching your bottom lip in nervousness by what you were going to say next. You had to heal it, but the only way to do it would need Izuku to get a little bit more comfortable with you.
“But….in order for me to properly heal it-
“Your gonna have to take off your shirt Izuku.”
Izuku could barely breathe now- take off his shirt- in front of you?? 
He could have gotten a cut anywhere- his arm, leg, shoulder- but no, he got it on his stomach. Where you, this pretty nurses assistant, would have to see him close to naked. 
He know he shouldn't be so worried, this was your job after all, you probably seen plenty of have naked students come and go due to injuries- it just felt strange.
“Are-are you sure, I think Ill be fine, you dont have to, its okay Ill just-” he began to ramble, his mouth making word soup as his anxiety kicked in.
“Izuku,” you sighed calmly, “you wanna get out of here, right?”
He nodded numbly, his green eyes full of concern and sheepish from the turn of events.
“Then your gonna have to trust me,” you placed your hand on his knee, leaning into his body softly.
God- you were- so- close.
Izuku felt his face heat up, unable to think properly. How were you so okay with being so close? You seemed so unfazed by being this near him, your voice calm and reassuring. He, on the other hand, was practically shaking from shock and nervousness.
“I wont judge you for anything, I promise,” you gave him a cheeky grin, letting your eyes trail to his torso, “-and I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” 
The boy was always training, non-stop- at least that’s what you heard from the teachers. 
You were practically certain this boy was only made of hardened muscle, watching how is arms ripples with each movement and the built muscle move under your fingertips.
 If he was worried he wasnt in the best physique to be near a girl shirtless, you were quite certain he was sorely mistaken. 
And if giving him some praise was going to make him feel a little comfortable-you would give him as much as he needed.
Izuku shuffled in his seat again, crinkling the thin paper on the bed.
“O-okay then-I trust you,” he said, trying to sound a little more confident, “Do what you have to do.”
“Awesome!” You exclaimed softly. “I have to go get a few more things..:in the mean time, try to take off that shirt, Kay? Be gentle-and don’t be afraid to call me if you need help,”
You gave him a reassuring pat on the knee, rising from your chair to get larger bandages from another cabinet. You turned your back to Midoriya, walking over to another cabinet and rummaging through the boxes until you found the perfect size bandages.
You felt your hands shake slightly, your heart beating feverishly against your chest. 
Why were you nervous? Was his hesitancy rubbing off on you now? You shouldn’t be scared in any way-you were quite accustomed to this, already working on a handful of other students since interning with Recovery Girl. This shouldn’t be a such a nerve-wracking problem-you has seen countless shirtless boys-
But you had never seen Izuku shirtless-and that was a first.
You willed yourself to take a calming breath, trying to coax your stampeding heart to lull to a normal pace. You had to be comfortable for him at least-he was so beet red in the face from worry he practically looked like a he had a fever.
“Hey Midoriya, you doing alright-“ you began as you turned around, trying to sound as cheerful as possible until your eyes feel on Izuku, your breath hitched in your throat.
This boy was built like a god.
His arm muscles gleamed in the fluorescent lights, almost sparkling as they slumped gently with his breaths. His pecks protruded our nicely, and his abdomen was a sight to be seen. Your hands itched to run along his abs, each one perfectly rounded and built. His v-line made you blush as it set deep into his skin, barely pecking out from his pants.
You could now fully see the injury, the only thing that was disrupting the masterpiece that was Izuku’s body. The red Cuts and purple bruises looked shallow as they encased around his 4th and 5th ribs.
“Is it-that bad?” he asked timidly,’his green orbs staring intently at your shocked face.
You shook your head of your stare, your cheeks inflamed-you couldn’t just be so blatantly enraptured by him. You secretly thanked that Izuku was kind of clueless and thought you were freaking out over his wound, because any other person would have known you were really just checking him out.
“Oh no! Your injury is fine,” you gave him a sheepish grin, placing the boxes on his bed.
His injury was easily fixable, and not at all serious- you were just so confused. How could someone so cute and endearing be so HOT.
“You really do train hard, huh, Midoriya?” You gave another glance at his abdomen, making Izuku chuckle nervously.
You pushed the chair you had sit in under the bed, deciding it would be easier to work on him if he was standing.
Oh geez-youd be the death of him-
you were now standing in between his legs, your hands ghosting the skin on his knees as you stared at him with those pretty eyes of yours.
He gave another small chuckle, his hand going up to scratch the back of his neck. The movement didnt react to well with his injury, a sharp pain crawling up his body. He winced, instinctively holding his side as you looked at him with worry.
“Is it alright if I-” your hands went to lightly touch his side, but he moved to block it away from your touch.
He realized his movements might have looked rude to you, his eyes growing wide with worry.
“I-I’m Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ he began to feverishly apologize, but quickly stopped once he felt you place your hand on his lower thigh.
“It’s fine, Izuku, really, I’d do the same thing to,” you gave him a soft smile, squeezing his thigh gently.
That action made his whole body feel like jello, his mind only focusing on the way your hand was so gentle against his skin.
“Do you still trust me, though?”
“O-of course!” He exclaimed, his eyes wide.
“Alright then-I promise I’ll be as gentle as possible, Kay?” You said softly, your voice so soothing to Izuku it felt like a lullaby in his ears.
He nodded his head, his curls cascading over his eyes slightly as you took your hand off his leg, his eyes watching your every move.
Your fingers gently ran against the bruised skin, making sure to be as soft and gentle as you could with the infliction. 
You didn’t want to cause him any type of unnecessary pain, but sometimes it was necessary to get the job done.
“I-uh-I have to clean your wounds,” you looked up at Izuku, surprised to see how gentle his eyes were as he looked down at you. He seemed to be much calmer, but the way he looked so dazed and in bliss made your heart thump painfully in your chest.
 “It might sting a little, but I promise after that, it won’t hurt any more than it does.”
“That alright, I-I won’t take any offense, your doing what you have to do,” he grinned slightly at you, his freckles like stars against his cheeks.
You returned the sweet gesture, trying to focus back on his wound and not the way  Izuku was making you feel.
 He was so sweet and so adorably awkward, you couldn’t help but feel something towards the boy that was more than just a friendship feeling. He really was different than any other boy you had ever talked to.
You began working on his cuts, sterilizing each one, and making sure they were completely clean so they wouldnt get any type of infection.
Your heart went out for this poor boy-he really was strong. You had always hated this part whenever getting an injury, and he took it like a champ.
He only hissed once, his eyes and nose scrunched up, reminding of you when a bunny sniffs something it didn’t quite like. He body tensed for a split second, his hands curling around the bed. You placed your hand gently on his, making sure that he knew you were still there. You gave him an apologetic expression, his eyes looking down at you delicately, reassuring you that it was alright.
The room was deathly quiet, yet it was comfortable-you focused solely on Izuku, placing an ointment on the open flesh in order to help it heal. You made sure to keep your hands clean in order to not spread any possible infection, walking away to clean your hands at certain times.
Midoriya hated when you left, missing the warmth your body radiated off. It was intoxicating, really-you were so incredibly gentle and sweet with him. Your hands were so soft and light he sometimes couldn’t even feel you working to heal his injury. He was cherishing each moment: the way he could almost feel your heart rate from your wrist against his skin, the way your fingers would brush against the inner side of his arms by accident, sending a tingle to shoot up throughout his body. He loved how your voice was so soothing and tender, and the way you took time to make sure he was comfortable, asking him if this area hurt the most, if he felt the bandages were too tight, if he needed anything for the bruising.... You were so kind and considerate it made his heart soar with how much you cared for him in this moment.
His chest exhaled sadly when you moved away from him for the last time, realizing you had finally fixed him up.
You stared at your handiwork, your hands a little firmer this time as you moved in quickly, wrapping your fingers against the thick bandages.
“Does this feel fine? Do you feel this? Is it too tight?” You asked for what seemed like the uptenth time, making Izuku chucke sweetly.
He really didnt mind all your questions: he found it quite endearing actually.
“Yep! I’m fine, honestly, you don’t have to worry,” he gave a sheepish grin, gently trying to move to get off the bed.
You instantly rushed to help him, your hands gingerly finding a place in the crook of his elbow and his waist, guiding him off the bed.
He smiled up at you, your heart soaring as the freckled boy gave you such a warm look of appreciation.
You fidgeted nervously, sadly letting go of your hands on his body and tucking a hair behind your ear.
“Your free to go if you want Izuku, it was really nice meeting you!” You gave him one last smile, his heart dropping sadly as he smiled back.
“It was really nice meeting you too, it’s-too bad we don’t have any classes together, you seem, well, really nice!” He was practically stuttering again, yet your warm laugh made him feel a little at ease.
“Oh don’t worry about that Izuku, I’m sure you’ll be back in here in no time! I hope you don’t be too beat up then, but I look forward to it,”
“Me-me too”
And with one last smile, he walked out the door, his heart beating feverishly in his chest.
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kittybellestark · 4 years ago
Text
Straightening Things Out Part 2
Part 1
This is it guys, part 2, and then this fic is doneeeeeee, I can’t believe I actually finished this today, hope you enjoy it also why ya’ll gotta go and call it CPS, every time i go to write it i’m like uhhh american CAS 
-
When Peter finally woke up he was in a bed. There was the familiar sound of his heart rate beeping out, the lights dimmed and a hand on his own. An oxygen mask was on his face, and he was hooked up to an IV.
Peter freaked out. This wasn’t where he was meant to be. He tried pushing himself up and off the bed, which caused horrible pains in his abdomen, stopping him from moving. Groaning Peter fell back onto the bed.
“Hey, hey, hey, Pete, it’s just me, Mr. Stark. You’re safe. We’re in the Med Bay. You’re okay. Put the Bambi eyes away, I’ll back up, whatever you need.”
Tony held both his hands up, keeping them in clear view of Peter. He took a few steps back watching Peter relax with each step he took backwards.
“Sorry. I just- sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” Peter’s voice was rough and quiet, and it hurt him to use.
“No apologies, you did the right thing, kid. I’m glad you called, even if it was to have a panic attack in my car while spitting up blood and passing out. You felt safe around me. You did the right thing.”
Peter went to speak again and Tony held his hand up.
“You shouldn’t really be talking. You’re esophagus was torn pretty bad. Do you want to full run down?”
Peter hesitated before nodding.
“Torn trachea, bruised neck, broken ribs, bleeding stomach, bruised liver and kidneys, tear in the gastrointestinal track, as well as significant damage to the anus, what seems to be whip marks down your back and what appears to be self harm on your arms, legs, chest and stomach. And a concussion, with a broken nose, and a fractured cheekbone.”
Tony sat down on the chair across the room from Peter, trying to respect Peter boundaries. Peter’s eyes welled up with tears and Tony wanted nothing more than to go and hold Peter and make everything better.
“We, uh, had to call the police. They want to ask you some yes and no questions right now, and then when you can speak again they’ll want actually talk to you. I have to ask though, because of the severity and where a lot of the injuries occurred, did Skip rape you?”
Peter bit his lip, before making the active decision to ignore the question outright. Sure, he knew he should confirm the allegations, he knew he should. Peter knew it was wrong. Horribly aware that what Skip did was illegal and horrible, but he couldn’t help that one part of him that saw it as help. Because that is what Skip called it. It was only ever supposed to be to be help Peter. Skip only ever did this for Peter.
So Peter turned away and closed his eyes, hoping that his mentor would believe that this didn’t happen to him, that he wasn’t a sin, or shameful. Peter wanted to believe that Tony wouldn’t just abandon him. He had brought it on himself.
The pain. The torment. This was his responsibility. He knew better. Peter was supposed to be Spider-Man. He was supposed to be a hero and know right from wrong. And yet, it’s different when it happens to him.
It’s not abuse, it’s just a thing that happens. It’s not self harm, it’s just a way to have some relief. It isn’t rape, it’s just learning a way to only like women.
Peter has rationalized it all. Made up answers for everything. Fallen deep into a pool of lies. Drowning under the weight of his soon-to-be uncle and the rest of the world. Spider-Man isn’t there to help him. Spider-Man said “fuck you, buddy,” and took a nice little wander away from Peter’s life. There’s no want to help himself, or others, and there’s no guilt for not putting on the suit. Spider-Man was just a phase.
“Okay buddy, I get it you’re tired. You’ve been through it. I’ll tell them to come back in a little bit. But I’m not going to judge you, no matter what, okay? I’m not going to toss you out or throw you to the side. You’re important and whatever you’re going through I want to help.”
-
The next time Peter woke up his friends were there in the place of Tony. Ned, MJ and Harley all managed to fit themselves on the one small chair in the room, talking in hushed voices.
Peter watched them as they giggled to themselves, something about two pretty best friends or whatever. The trio all seemed tired, apprehensive even, but they were doing their best to remain positive.
“Oh my god, Peter you’re awake!” Ned shouted out, the first to notice.
Peter flinched back at the loud voice and the sudden movements of the three as they scrambled to try and get up, too entwined to be able to do it with any ease. They made it to Peter’s bedside flushed and with minimal injuries.
“Dude we were so worried. MJ and I were heading to your place because you weren’t answering and then we saw May and Skip get arrested and be put in the back of a police car.”
MJ elbowed Ned in the stomach, urging him to shut up, as clearly this wasn’t the best time to talk about Peter’s family getting arrested. Ned mumbled out some apologies, yet Peter didn’t seem to react. His eyes were blank and the expression on his face hadn’t changed since the group noticed he was awake.
“Peter?” Harley whispered.
Peter’s eyes flicked over to focus on Harley, and it was clear to everyone just how terrified Peter actually was. His jaw was tight and eyes just a little too wide. Peter was as stiff as a board, focused on whoever caught his attention and tracking their movements to make sure they aren’t a threat. The three moved backwards as slowly as they could so that Peter wouldn’t feel as threatened by their presence.
“Tony wouldn’t tell us the extent of your injuries because of HIPPA or whatever but he did say you’re not allowed to talk, so I guess it was really serious.” MJ started to say. “But don’t think I didn’t notice your arms and leg, I’m really angry that you lied to me, but I get it, okay? Whenever you want to tell us what happened we’ll listen and we won’t judge you or your actions.”
There was a moment where Peter considered telling them. He could write things out. Peter had already told the police using a written statement. If he just wrote it down, then they’d know. But then Peter thought of what Skip did to him. He remembered how Skip told him that he needed to be cured, that no one would love him or accept him as he is now.
Skip wasn’t a kind man, but Peter also knew that he had his moments. Like the time he held Peter as he sobbed, rubbing his back and carrying him to bed. Skip was doing it for the right reasons. He cared. It hurt. It hurt a lot when Peter got to know how nice Skip could be to then be face down on his bed, begging to be let go and free of Skip’s torment. 
Instead of saying anything and letting his friends know what’s been happening Peter shook his head and turned himself to face away from them. The trio couldn’t see Peter like this. Not broken in a hospital bed over something he could have stopped.
He would have stopped it, right? If he truly didn’t want what was happening, he’d stop it. Instead he allowed it to happen for the results. For May. To be loved for who he is, even if he has to fake it. Peter knows he should have stopped what Skip was doing. He had the power to the entire time, and yet, he didn’t.
It was his own fault. MJ said that they won’t judge him, but Peter knows they would. They’d think he’s disgusting and want nothing to do with him. Peter created this situation and now he was going to lose everyone.
Peter was tired. He was going back to sleep.
-
He was finally released from the Med Bay. Dr Cho had finally deemed him strong enough to not be hooked up to an IV 24/7 and with no need of oxygen. Peter was still on bed rest, and he wasn’t allowed to be alone for long periods of time either. He had to drink protein shakes to regain his weight and he has sessions with a therapist set up for the next forever.
He was lucky that Tony has taken temporary custody of him. So instead of being in the Med Bay, Peter would be in his own bedroom. Tony and Pepper had both been incredible, extending their home to him and being by his side through everything. They hadn’t kicked him out yet, nor have they hit him or told him they don’t love him. Instead they continued reject what Skip had done. Tony and Pepper knew what Skip did to him, they were aware that he could have stopped it, and they still let him stay.
“Hey Roo, so I just got news that the police released May. Your statement pretty much cleared her because she wasn’t ever home. Obviously CPS won’t release you back into her care yet, but she had been asking to see you. I wanted to tell her no, but it should be your decision.”
Phineas and Ferb automatically paused when Tony started talking, thanks to FRIDAY. Tony kept his voice soft and held a reassuring smile on his face. Peter pulled his knees up to his chest, feeling himself start to scratched at the exposed skin on his ankles.
“Hey, hey, Pete it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want too.”
Tony was quick to move to Peter, looking for permission before pulling Peter’s hands away, stopping him from hurting himself any further.
“Sorry, sorry- I didn’t- sorry. Didn’t realize what I was doing.”
“It’s okay kiddo, recovery isn’t always linear. You don’t need to talk to May, I’m more than happy to tell her no. It’s at your rate, no one is going to judge you for it.”
Peter nodded, leaning into Tony for the first time in a months for comfort. Tony stayed still for a moment allowing Peter to acquaint himself to kind human contact.
“Can I put my hand on your back, Peter?”
Peter nodded again and Tony beamed with pride, proud of his kid to be able to accept physical contact. Tony kept his one hand on Peter’s upper back, rubbing small circles in an attempt to bring comfort.
“I want to see her. If she didn’t know we shouldn’t punish her. It isn’t her fault he used May against me. I should have known, I should have.”
Tony felt Peter shake his head as his whole body seemed to fight itself between discomfort and trying to relax. Peter moved himself closer into Tony, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder instead.
“Pete, it wasn’t your fault. I know you don’t believe that yet, but I promise, this isn’t on you. If you aren’t ready to see May yet everyone will understand.”
The teen pulled away from Tony and considered the words spoken, face twisting in thought. After a moment Peter huffed and nodded. Tony smiled trying to be reassuring.
“I’ll be okay, can you just be in the room? It’ll just, make me feel better if someone else is there, I think.”
“Of course, I’ll be there if you need me.”
-
May sat in a chair, hoping to have chosen the right spot to not make Peter feel trapped. She hated what she had done to her kid. How could she had been unaware of what was happening in her home? To her family?
She deserved to have custody revoked, the fact that CPS wasn’t doing that boggled her. This situation only happened because May allowed a bad man into their home. Peter had said that he wasn’t getting along with Skip, that there was something off, and May should have believed him. But she was blind, and now Peter has paid the price.
Why did May allow herself to believe Skip’s word? She saw Peter slipping, she saw him struggle but then Skip would talk about how Peter confided in him and that he was giving Peter advice. Skip had made it seem like he was helping Peter. May had taken the extra shifts at work and was out more, unable to help, and was made to be a fool.
She should have never started dating again.
Peter and Tony finally enter the room and May’s heartbreaks at the sight of her nephew. Peter looked decades older with the guarded look on his face, holding himself. The clothing Peter wore was much too big, barely hanging onto him. There was an elastic band on each wrist, a clear sign to May that Peter had relapsed.
This was all her fault.
Tony sat on the couch sitting closer to May, leaving room for Peter farther away. Peter glared at the couch like it was a personal offense before sitting on the ground, leaning onto one of Tony’s legs.
“I’m sorry Peter, I didn’t know.”
May wanted to hug him, to make him feel better. Yet that was probably the last thing that Peter needed or wanted from here right now. Instead she dug her nails into the upholstery, trying to quell the urges to hold Peter and never let go.
“He said that you never accepted me. That you thought I needed to be cured. Was any of that true?” Peter’s voice was cold and hard, it didn’t hold any of the kindness it used to, no longer soft and light.
“No, baby, no of course not. I’m so sorry he used me against you. Skip manipulated the both of us and I’m so sorry I didn’t see it. I love you and accept you no matter what. What he said wasn’t true.”
The room fell silent. Peter started to rock back and forth as he processed May’s words. It didn’t take much longer for his eyes to look empty or for him to sob, burying his head in his hands.
“Hey, Roo, you’re gonna be okay, you aren’t there anymore. We’re in the tower and you’re safe.” Tony whispered trying to get Peter to not fall into a full blown panic attack again.
“No, no it has to be true. I let him, he said- he told me that- no he was telling the truth. You don’t love me, not while knowing I also like men. You can’t. I let him- I did it for you, I didn’t want to be a disappointment anymore. He was in my head, he told me to hurt myself. I let him May, because I thought you didn’t love me. You said you were proud of me, because you talked to him, I told him it was working, that I was straight and he- and he raped me. Then you said you were proud of me because I was getting help from him. I- Ben would hate me. He would. He always said ‘With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility,’ and I had the power to stop it. I’m supposed to be Spider-Man I stopped this sort of thing from happening to others. I had the power to stop him, the responsibility to stop him and I didn’t because I wanted you to love me and not be disappointed in me. It has to be true. I didn’t go through all of that for you to say it wasn’t. No. I disagree with you.”
Peter pressed his nails into his face and started to drag them down, scratching at himself. Tony was quick to move down onto the ground, making sure not to touch Peter, only speaking in a soft whisper to help calm the teen.
May couldn’t help the tears that sprung to her eyes, or the way her heart crumbled at being the cause of Peter’s pain. She should have kept her eyes open, or listened to Peter when he said he didn’t like Skip. Why would she let herself believe that Peter’s problem was Skip was the fact that he was in Ben’s place? May caused all this pain and now she can’t even help him. 
“I’m sorry, I should go. I’m so sorry Peter, I never wanted any of this to happen.” May spoke out as she got up and exited the room, needing to walk away, needing space, needing to give Peter his own space. She caused this, she can’t punish Peter for it either.
-
Peter didn’t like therapy very much. He didn’t like talking through his ‘traumas’ or his emotions either. She made Peter talk about his sexuality and his confusion over it now. Peter discussed how he used to identify as bisexual but how Skip wanted him to be straight and his he thought he was except for the fact that Harley existed.
Apparently he was making great progress. Though she might just say it to all her clients, Peter wasn’t sure. He just knew it didn’t feel like he was making any progress.
Peter still couldn’t be alone in a room with older men, except for Tony, he could hardly be alone with those his own age. He couldn’t help the anxiety that anyone was judging him and wanting to fix him. And his therapist said he still wasn’t ready to go back to school, or big crowds.
Really, it was a fancy way of saying Peter wasn’t ready for anything. Couch’s were still a no go, and beds depended on the day. Peter knew he could never go back to that apartment, but he also knew that May was looking at new places for them.
Progress was hard and slow and sometimes it didn’t feel like progress at all. But Peter was doing it. He’s getting there.
-
“Hey,” Peter said just slightly too loud.
He bounced on his heels, standing in the doorframe, ready to leave at any moment. Harley jumped in his seat, dropping his book onto his desk. Harley was quick to regain his composure resting his chin on his hand and his elbow on his desk.
“Hey, hey Peter? Uhm, do you want to come in, I can give you this chair if it’ll make you more comfortable.”
Peter considered for a moment, before deciding to stay where he was, not quiet comfortable with entering Harley’s room yet. So he shook his head, trying to get comfortable leaning against the doorframe, keeping his arms crossed over his chest.
“That’s okay, Peter. We can both sit on the ground? That way you can lean against the wall behind you, and then I can stay over here against the desk.”
Peter nodded, appreciating Harley for letting him stay outside of the room. He sat down on the ground before sliding back the few feet to lean against the wall. Harley sat down too, leaning on the side of his desk.
It took Peter a moment to find his words. Looking at Harley and his stupid lop-sided smile. Just existing near Harley made it hard to breathe, let alone hard to talk. And it just wasn’t fair. But he needed to do this. It was important.
“You terrify me, Harley Keener.” Peter’s voice was soft and his smile sad. “Not because I think you’re going to hurt me. Skip, uh, he never did anything, not until he found out I was bi. I didn’t like him very much before everything, but I feel he did the right thing, and I know my therapist says he did the wrong thing, but I disagree.”
Peter took a breath, and Harley just wanted to give Peter a hug and to comfort him. But that isn’t what was needed here. It was obvious Peter needed to talk to someone who won’t judge him. Harley was someone Peter could relate to because of what he went through in Rose Hill. Of course the homophobia never hurt Harley in the ways it hurt Peter, Harley was never raped, but he was beat up over and over and the church goers were never nice either.
“It started when I was talking to May. She was asking about school, and I had started talking about you. Please don’t blame yourself. It isn’t your fault and I didn’t get hurt because of you. But I was talking about you and May asked if I liked you, and I said I did. That’s when he started doing things. I brought up the new dreamy transfer from Tennessee and that was it.”
Pausing for a moment, Peter felt his throat burn and how hard it was to talk. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath in. Harley held a hand over his mouth, feeling responsible for the pain that was inflicted on Peter. This was harder than Harley thought it was going to be.
“It’s not you’re fault Harley. Okay? It’s my own. At first he just wanted me to cut myself, anytime I had a sinful thought, I used to do that when I was younger, so once the razor was in my hands it was just so easy. But it wasn’t making me straight like he wanted, so he started beating me, but that still didn’t work. Then he came in my room drunk once, claimed I was rubbing off on him. That was the first time he ever touched me. And I started to look at you, and all men really with fear. I didn’t feel attraction, only fear. I thought it worked. I was finally straight y’know. I was so excited to tell Skip, because it was working and May was going to love me again and I was going to be normal. I told him. But that’s when things started. He said I gave him my disease and he had to cure himself. I was straight Harley, I was finally normal, but it kept happening and I was going to die. I knew it. He was going to kill me, Harley, and I ran, which I shouldn’t have. Skip was just trying to help. He wanted to make me better. It was all my fault and I shouldn’t have left. I’m supposed to be Spider-Man, I should have been able to handle it. I should have stayed longer.”
Harley couldn’t help the tears, letting them silently fall. He hated that Peter blamed himself for this. All Peter did was admit his attraction to his family and it nearly killed him. While Harley knew he wasn’t the reason for Peter’s pain, it surely felt like it.
“Peter-“
“No, wait, I’m not done. I said you terrify me. But it’s not because you’re scary or I think you’re going to hurt me. You terrify me Harls, because no matter what Skip did, I still liked you, and I shouldn’t have anymore because he was fixing me. Skip was fixing me but he couldn’t stop me from liking you, Harley, and that terrifies me.”
Peter’s shoulders shook as he tried not to cry, to not dwell on his trauma. He still believed that Skip did the right thing, no one was able to convince him otherwise. It broke everyone’s heart how Peter knew that the things were done to him were wrong, but believed that they were done for the right reasons. Harley hated that Peter hated himself over something he used to be so proud of. It was torture to watch Peter go from this bubbly ball of joy, to someone who retreated so far into themselves and couldn’t trust anyone around him. Harley watched Peter’s spirit die and he tracked his food intake. He should have known.
“Did I ever tell you why I moved to New York?” Harley then chose to say.
He knew that Peter probably didn’t want apologies or reassurance that things weren’t his fault. Peter wouldn’t have come to Harley for that, that was Tony’s area now.
“To go to a better school and work with Mr. Stark?”
“I was forced out of the closet back home. Some kids found out and then spread it around town. Now it spread like wildfire as we all knew each other. My mama was scarred for me. I couldn’t go to church without someone spittin’ at me and I couldn’t go to school without getting beat up. People were tryna’ hit me with their cars. All because I was ‘against the word of god.’ Then one day I was pulled into the fields behind the school and these kids held a gun to my head. The local police blamed me for having a gun to my head and my mama and sister thought I’d leave the house and never come home. So I got sent here when Tony found out about it. I didn’t choose to come out here, but they were going to kill me one day and it was the only way my family could make sure I’m safe.”
Peter was silent to Harley’s confession and Harley couldn’t stop the self-deprecating smile that made its way to his face. It wasn’t something Harley liked to talk about, but this is what Peter needed. Harley blamed himself in the beginning the same way Peter blames himself now. Peter needed to relate and to see that someone else gets it. Nothing was going to change for Peter if he didn’t see that others knew what it was like. Peter was just too stubborn like that.
“Harls…” Peter finally whispered, moving into the boys room.
Peter was cautious with his movements, his eyes holding no trust and he moved closer to Harley. Holding his breath to not scare Peter, Harley did his best to not move, to not do anything that could harm Peter. Finally, Peter stopped, still in the ground and kicking out his one leg to lean against Harley’s. It was a stretch for Peter to reach Harley and he was closer than he originally thought he’d be. Harley’s eyes were wide, blue eyes filled with tears, as the look on his face seemed to ask permission for this to be okay.
“You didn’t deserve that Harley. That was your home and it isn’t fair that you didn’t feel safe there because of who you are.”
Harley smiled and nodded. This, this is what Peter needed. Harley told Peter something personal and hard and something he never wanted to talk about, and Peter got it. He understands the problem.
“I know that now. But I didn’t when I first got here. It was my home, just like it was yours. We should have been able to feel safe.”
And then Peter really got it.
-
Tony, Pepper, Harley and Peter were all having breakfast together. It was Friday, and Harley didn’t have school. Peter was in a new spot around the table was between Tony and Pepper, and across from Harley. The new spot was a safe enough spot where Peter could actually eat some of his food. So they had pancakes and some fruit, hoping to get Peter engaged and acclimated to a scheduled like again.
Everyone was dressed in regular clothes, ready for their day, except for Peter who wore his pajamas and oversized hoodie. Peter hadn’t had a haircut since the beginning of things with Skip many months ago so his curls were long and unruly, covering his face well enough when his head was tilted forward as it so regularly was now.
“Peter, honey, do you have any plans today?” Pepper asked, keeping her tone light.
“I’m supposed to FaceTime May later, she wants to show me the new place and get my opinion on couches. And Dr. Mitchell says I need to leave the tower and go on a walk or something, I guess.” Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper, and he shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
Pepper hummed, adjusting one of Peter’s curls to fall more naturally.
“Would you like one of us to come with you? Tony has made these great nano-tech masks so we wouldn’t be recognized.”
Peter seemed to consider this, eyes flitting back and forth between Tony and Pepper, before they moved to the elevator. It took another moment for everyone who wasn’t advanced to hear the movement of the mechanisms. The doors opened and Happy came out a smile painted onto his face.
“Guys, the jury made their final decision. Skip’s going to jail, they’re putting him on the predator registry. He’s going to be there the rest of his life.” Happy announced, dropping donuts onto the table.
Everyone cheered except for Peter, happy to see such a horrible person go to jail. Yet through everyone’s happiness, Peter couldn’t help but feel it was wrong.
“Kid, you okay?” Tony asked when the boy stayed silent for too long.
Peter looked up at him, wide eyed and ready to cry. He did feel relief about the idea of never seeing Skip again, but he couldn’t help but feeling like this wasn’t the right move either. Of course Peter couldn’t help but reflect to the conversation with Harley, about how he would have died if he stayed in Rose Hill, the same as if Peter stayed with Skip. It was finally starting to make sense that Skip was wrong, even though it didn’t feel like he was and Peter was confused.
“I need- I need- I can’t.” Peter sobbed. “Where’s May- I need- I can’t- May- I just. Please.”
He tried pushing himself away from the table, to get himself away from the people from his thoughts. Peter shoved at the table, moving the whole thing and felt his legs crumble when he tried to stand up. Breathe, he needs to breathe, and he needs air and he needs to get away.
Someone touches him.
Peter fly’s farther back, crawling away from Skip, from his touch. This was not where Peter wanted to be. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing his nails into his skin, didn’t realize as he dragged them and ripped his skin open. Peter was scared and he just needed to go away.
“Don’t- don’t touch me, please, no.” 
He needed to get away. Away, away, away. Not here. Not with Skip he couldn’t let Skip come near him. Skip was a threat, an enemy, except he helped. He did it to help, he was always nice after. Skip would hold Peter as he sobbed and give him a bath and take him to bed. He wasn’t all bad, he was nice sometimes. Bad things just happened because of the man.
“Hi baby, it’s me. You want to tell what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?” May spoke.
Peter couldn’t remember May arriving. But here she is, crouching down in front of him wearing her scrubs. Mays hair was falling into her face, and she made sure to stay just a few feet away, in his full view.
“He’s gone. May, he can’t- he wasn’t bad be he deserves it. He deserves it, May. Oh my god. Skip is gone.”
Relief flooded Peter. He was free, finally free. No one in his home was going to tell him that he is a disgrace or a sin. Peter is safe, for the first time in forever, he is safe again. No Skip, no unsafe home. Peter has his family, and that’s really all he needs. 
Peter feels safe. His family isn’t going to hurt him.
He’ll be okay.
~
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