#even worse the people who commissioned him had to put him in touch with me to do this

[formulatrash]

some higher power give me the strength and grace not to think unkind things about the male journalist asssigned a piece about F1 Academy who for obvious reasons knows so little about women in motorsport he will be collecting the commission for the piece but has to interview me (for free) in order to write it

[ahoysteviex]

WRITING COMMISSIONS OPEN‼️IN FINANCIAL DISTRESS

Hello everyone. I'm opening writing commissions because I am in dire financial distress right now. PLEASE consider hiring me or donating to me right now. My family NEEDS help.

MY SITUATION:

I am currently living with my family and we are living with relatives. My father has been nonstop searching for work and getting nothing in return. He will get interviewed sometimes and despite being more than qualified and the interview going well, he won't get the job. My mother is disabled and can only work part time but has also not had any luck getting part time work. I have a younger sister who has to be taken out of school and put into online school because we cannot afford gas to drive her to and from school every day. My mother just got discharged from the hospital two days ago after having surgery to have her thyroid removed because she had thyroid cancer. She's an amputee and cannot afford the supplies for her prosthesis. We have a phone bill to pay as well as a storage unit payment for a unit with all of our stuff in it that we'll lose if we cannot make the payment.

To make matters worse, my maternal grandparents are evil people (I can make a separate post explaining this situation further if need be) and had it out for my parents for months. They are emotionally and mentally abusive and manipulative people. Last month, they started a loud, heated argument, as is typical for them. It was relatively short, but eventually my father leaned over and slammed the bedroom door. Honestly, "slammed" even feels like a stretch. But my grandparents called the police and lied to them by saying my dad slammed my grandfather's hand in the door. The police arrested my dad over this despite there being little to no physical evidence and my mother, sister, and I all testifying that it was not true. This happened the weekend before Christmas. My great uncle was able to call in a friend and get my dad released from jail, but he's going to have to sign bonds papers tomorrow and we do not have the $350 they're asking for, so my father may be detained again. He is just getting his foot in the door at Wal-Mart and is waiting on them to call him to finish his onboarding process and this is throwing a wrench into all that.

We're trying desperately to get on our feet. We want to move in to a place of our own. But it's just one misfortune after another. We need money to pay for my mom's medical expenses, our storage unit, our phone service/Internet, gas, and now legal expenses to keep my dad with us. And that doesn't even touch on the car trouble.

MY WRITING:

These commissions are a desperate attempt to help myself and my family, as writing is my only real skill.

I have experience writing for OR would be able to write for the following fandoms:

Stranger Things

Arcane

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Scream (1994)

Apex Legends

Overwatch

God of War (4 & 5)

Baulder's Gate 3

Dead by Daylight

Cyberpunk 2077

Disco Elysium

My Chemical Romance

Panic! at the Disco

Fall Out Boy

One Direction

I'm proficient in romance, angst, fluff, domestic/familial, and NSFW. I'll write basically anything as long as it isn't a NSFW situation involving minors or animals. I'll write Canon Character x Canon Character, Original Character x Canon Character, and Reader Insert. I'll even do those little head-canon posts. Anything, I just need commissions.

You can find examples of my work on Ao3 here, or under my "my writing" tag here on Tumblr.

I will also beta read for you!

Here is my ko-fi.

Please use that to buy a commission from me! You can also donate there without buying a commission if you want to do that too. And if you aren't in a position to help financially, PLEASE reblog this post to get more eyeballs on it so that other people are given the opportunity to help me.

Thank you for reading. ❤️‍🔥

[alovesongtheywrote]

nightmare academia puts me through the ringer EVERY TIME and i love it

♥ Summary: in a few chapters, it's gonna get worse!! for now tho... In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, case stuff ensues and you prepare for heartbreak. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: cops. cops being terrible, cops exploiting the system, and cops shaming a woman for being a sex worker. also, violence, implied violence, and past violence.

♥ A/N: holy shit, this chapter is Very Long

♥ Word Count: 4885

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

In the weeks that followed, Spencer brought the BAU to you.  Of course, not everyone could make it.  Kate Callahan was off raising her children.  Penelope Garcia was the target of several  hitmen (whereas Frank was probably the target of a single hitman.  Massive difference.  Trust me.)  And Derek Morgan remained at Quantico with Garcia- so you really weren’t sure what to expect.  The agents you had the strongest feelings about were out of commission.  The last time you’d met his team it did not uh, how would you put it?  End well?  So you were- justifiably- a touch guarded.

That changed. Eventually.

It started with Adam.  

At that point in the investigation, local law enforcement had only shown your friend cruelty, distrust, and skepticism.  Honestly?  You were about to start biting people about it.  (Yeah, maybe it would have gotten you arrested, but at that point, you did not care.  At the very least, biting would make you feel productive.)  You were well and truly prepared for Spencer’s law enforcement team to behave in a similar manner to the local cops- and to be honest, you probably should have been.  Most Feds would carry that same suspicion and distrust, and if they didn’t they were probably faking it to try and get a confession.  

The BAU, however, are not most Feds.  For several reasons.  Either way, you were well and truly prepared to maul the next person who treated your friend like garbage, fed or otherwise.  There was never a need.

The BAU showed Adam basic decency.  They didn’t talk down to him or dismiss him as a demeaning stereotype- and yes, that was the barest of bare minimum, but it was still something.  While they regarded him with mild suspicion for the first like, two minutes, it only took the team that same two minutes to come to the conclusion that Adam was innocent.  After that, the BAU was just as dedicated to clearing Adam’s name as you were.

“Adam had an incredibly emotional response when we mentioned Frank,” Hotchner explained to the local detectives, “He’s genuinely devastated by what happened.  He couldn’t have done this.  Even if he did attack Frank, it wouldn’t have been a clinical hit.”

“Emotions tend to make things messy- we would have seen something much more personal, with more violence and more remorse,” Rossi added.

The detectives did not listen.  The detectives did not care.  

“I’d say a gunshot wound is pretty messy,” one laughed.

“Yeah,” another jumped in, “Try telling the vic’ that things aren’t messy.”

You bit your tongue to keep from screaming, but you didn’t stay entirely silent.  If the detectives weren’t going to give a shit on their own, then you were going to make them.

“Have you actually?” you asked, crossing your arms, “Have you spoken to the victim?”

“Eh, someone else got around to it,” the first detective asked, looking at his partner with the special kind of uncertainty that came with getting called out.

“Did you read the report, then?”

“Well, I’m on the case, aren’t I?”

“Answer the question, detective.”

In the telling silence that followed, Rossi had to turn away to hide his (failed) attempt to suppress a grin.  Hotchner looked proud, despite not knowing you very well.  Spencer looked like he might grab you by the waist and kiss you until you were out of breath.  He didn’t, though, for lots of reasons- his boss was there, he hadn’t asked you if you’d like to be kissed, there was more serious stuff to focus on, and like… you already looked fucking pissed.

The detectives just looked embarrassed.  

“I- uh.  I’ve skimmed it,” the first detective stuttered out.

“Yeah, cool, not good enough,” you nabbed the case file from a nearby desk and pressed it into the officer’s hands, “Consider reading the report.  You’ll find that the victim disagrees with you.”

Both detectives stared at the file as if they were seeing it for the first time- as if they were seeing a file for the first time.  You sighed.

“Detective, if I may ask, how much overtime have you put in on this case?”  the man in front of you blanched at your question.  You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so fucking angry, “Cool.  I thought so.”

“Ough,” Rossi winced with faux sympathy, “Overtime?  And you haven’t even read the case file?”

“Hey, we’ve been very busy these last few weeks!”

The second officer nodded, “Just last week, we had five break-ins in the downtown area.”

“Alright, I’ll accept that,” you turned to leave before doubling back, “But before I go, I need to ask- do you care about the wellbeing of the break-in vics the way you care about this case?  Do you care about all victims so dearly?  Or do you treasure their testimony the way you “treasure” the testimony in this case?”

“What?  What are you saying, what do you-”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume it’s the latter.”  

“What?  Okay, what the hell do you know about police work-!”

“They’re an expert criminologist,” Spencer said, seething slightly.

“Dr. Reid is right.  I know a thing or two about crime- and if I’m just gonna put it this way.  I’ve seen the data.  I’ve heard testimony from victims and offenders.  I know the local and nationwide statistics for unreported crimes.  You’re concerned about the victim hearing that his case isn’t messy?  Look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never told a victim that their situation- their serious situation- was a waste of police time.”

The officers couldn’t look at your face, much less your eyes.  You had done what you needed to do.

“You wanna solve crimes?  You wanna be the hero?  Then take a goddamned ethics class, read your fucking case files, care for your community, and do your fucking job.”

The detectives tried in vain to defend themselves.  They were unsuccessful- especially in the face of the three FBI agents that immediately backed you up.

“Dr. (L/N) is right.  The number of unreported crimes will astound you,” Rossi said, smirking like the little shit that we all know he is.

“This is especially prevalent with sexual assault cases, theft and scams, and other crimes where the victim may feel a sense of embarrassment- or crimes where the victim feels like their case won’t be taken seriously,” Spencer added in a very Spencer-like way.

“And everything you need to know about this crime is in the file.  If you’d read it, you’d know that the victim is very insistent that your guy didn’t do it, and one could say that, oh, I don’t know, he’s a strong eyewitness.  He is the victim and all,” Rossi continued, getting their asses.

They struggled to respond, “Well- I-  We-”

“And even if you discount the eyewitness testimony, there’s still the matter of alibis and ballistics.  Security cameras have placed Adam away from the community center at the time of the shooting.  The ballistics aren’t a match to any weapon that Adam has ever come into contact with.  Even if they were a match, he hasn’t handled a weapon since his release from prison as a condition of his parole.  But if you had checked the file, you’d know that,” Hotch added, also smirking like a little shit, but with a slight edge to it- that edge, kids, is called “pissed off authority figure.”

“Hey, it-”

“It just sounds like poor police work to me,” Spencer had the biggest smirk of all- the smirk of a little shit who’s proud of his team and of his hot co-professor, “Had you actually done any of your research, you would realize that the suspect you have in custody is being held on police bias and circumstantial evidence.  Any good lawyer can get this case thrown out, and then where will you be?”

His smirk turned to a full grin when you shot him a small smile of your own.

The detectives continued to sputter out responses.  For once, the second one spoke, “Now, we may not be fancy FBI agents, but this precinct has a solid track record of convictions-”

“Were those convictions based on circumstance and bias?” Neither detective answered Spencer’s question.  He continued, “Even if this precinct had a perfect track record, that wouldn’t make it invulnerable to mistakes- and even if it did, you would still have the responsibility of approaching each case like professionals to ensure the wellbeing of victims, suspects, and families.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you slid forward, putting a hand on Spencer’s arm, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to go speak with the victim.  His name is Frank, by the way.”

And just like that, you pulled Dr. Spencer Reid away- and he did not resist in the slightest.  In fact, he held the door open for you as you exited the precinct.  Rossi was pretty sure he saw the kid get behind the wheel.

As the detectives scurried away with their tails between their legs, the older agent let out a long whistle.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that our young Dr. Reid is officially smitten.”

“He was smitten the last time we were here,” Hotch said, pulling another copy of the case file from seemingly nowhere- one of his many unit chief powers.

“Yeah, yeah, but this time it’s bad.  Garcia’s gonna be mad that she didn’t get to see it.”

Hotch nodded, solemnly.

“Y’know, I think the three of them combined could probably take down the whole FBI.”

“You’re right,” Hotch snapped the file closed with a tiny little proud-dad-type smile, “We’re awfully lucky that they’re focused on something else at the moment.”

-

Missy got your guard to drop further.

Initially, she was hesitant to have the Feds drop in on Frank’s case- you both were.  You were used to local law enforcement treating her like shit.  You didn’t stand for it- every time a cop or lawyer so much as dared to look at her wrong, you bared your teeth like a damn dog and threatened to bite where it would hurt.  Y’know.  Lawsuits.  Missy wasn’t exactly a pushover, either.  She was one of the strongest people you knew, and you were well aware that she could hold her own.  If Missy wanted to be scary, she could be fucking terrifying.

Still, it was a little exhausting to fight all these battles against people in positions of authority who were so convinced that their series of events was correct, and anyone who went against it was nothing more than a lying ex-con.  Having the BAU in your pockets certainly helped with that.

“I already told you what happened.  I’ll tell you a thousand more times if I have to, but the story isn’t going to change,” Missy groaned, voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

“Okay, then.  We’ll go over your testimony again.  A few more times, if you don’t mind,” One of the local detectives smirked, ignoring the death glare you sent her way.

“Fine.  Frank was walking me to the community center.  I was taking a class on resume writing.  It was cloudy, not raining, but cold.  We came around the side of the building when a man in a leather jacket walked around the corner.”

“And what did this man do?”

“He- he shot Frank.  He tried to kill my-” she took a shaky breath.  You put a hand on her arm, aiming for gentle comfort and reassurance.  Missy nodded, letting you know you’d hit your target.

“Did you see his face?” The officer continued.

“No.  He was wearing one of those bike helmets that block off the person’s eyes- but I swear, it wasn’t Adam.  This guy was too bulky.  Adam’s made of wires, he needs to eat more.”

“You seem to have a lot of affection for Adam,” the detective leaned forward, “Now, we know you’ve claimed to be in a relationship with Frank- but could you describe your relationship with Adam for us?”

“I already said it!  I took a couple classes with him!  He’s a friend, that’s all.”

“Mhmm.  That’s all.  And in your previous line of work- the one that earned you a prison sentence of twelve months and a little over minimum wage- you had a lot of ‘friends,’ yes?”

“Excuse me?” your fingers bit into the table that separated you from the cop.  You had half a mind to jump over the thing and throttle the smug detective sitting before you.  

“What?” Missy growled, “You think just because I used to hook I fuck all my friends now?  I’ve taken a few classes with Doc (L/N), I haven’t fucked them!”

You nodded in solemn agreement.  The detective shrugged this off, ignoring everything that came out of Missy’s mouth.  When she spoke again, her voice rang with the faux pity of someone who held themselves leagues above Missy.

“You know, I can see why you were looking at writing up a resume- your old line of work is so degrading.  You know you’re never the same, afterwards.  You can never wash off the shame.  You’ll always be a little broken.  A little-”

“Okay, that’s enough-” you stood up, slamming your hands down on the table.

“Hey, fuck you, man-” Missy leaned forward, “Don’t tell me what hooking did to me.  You don’t know me.  You don’t fucking know.”

“And now you’re lashing out.  Poor thing-”

“Detective Foy.  A word,” Tara Lewis, a newer BAU agent who you hadn’t really had the pleasure of meeting materialized in the doorway like a perfectly timed ghost, ready to right some wrongs and keep you from committing a murder.  Her request for a word was perfectly intimidating, disclosing the not-so-secret secret that the request itself was not actually a request.  

“I’m sorry, Agent, I’m in the middle of an interrogation-” 

“It’s not an interrogation.  You’re questioning a witness.  Agent Jareau will handle things from here.  Now, a word?”

You and Missy watched as the detective slunk out of the room with her tail between her legs.  Moments later, JJ joined you, but she didn’t bother to start a line of questioning.  Instead, the three of you watched in giddy silence as Tara Lewis destroyed Detective Foy where she stood.  You couldn’t hear her through the glass, but you could vaguely read the words, “You are a police officer meant to serve and protect the people in your community, and uphold the law.  You should educate yourself on the law, and on what it means to serve and protect.”  On her lips.

You could’ve been off on that translation, but either way, it was sick as fuck.  By the time Tara was finished, you and Missy were barely holding back your laughter.  You probably would’ve held it in if JJ hadn’t turned around with a pleased grin on her face.

“Ok, well, I’ve known Agent Lewis for about three minutes, and already I adore her,” you cackled.

“Oh, she’s excellent,” Missy said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Well, we certainly like her,” Jennifer grinned, clearly proud of her teammate and happy to see that someone outside the BAU had taken notice.

A few moments later, Tara re-entered the room with a tired sigh on her lips.  It didn’t take her long to realize that you were all staring right at her.

“What?  What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, we just think, as a group,” you looked around like you were the leader of the world’s weirdest (and maybe coolest?) group project, “That you are, objectively, excellent.”

“Yep.  Not bad for a Fed.”

Again, you nodded in agreement, “I concur.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, “Thank you?”

Missy gave Tara a thumbs up.  You followed her lead.  Not really knowing what else to do in this situation, and figuring there was no harm in joining the madness, Tara returned the thumbs up.

“Well, like we said, we’ll take over the questioning from here,” JJ took a seat as she spoke.  Tara joined her at the table.

“So, after Frank was shot, did you see where the attacker went?”

“No.  I was kind of focused on my partner bleeding on the ground.”

“That’s fair- but try to think back.  Did you see anything in your peripheral vision?  Did you hear anything?”

Missy paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she still sounded lost in thought, “I heard a bike.  It makes sense with the helmet- I think it might’ve been a Yamaha?”  

“Wait, you can tell which brand a bike is by the sound?” you asked, not disbelieving Missy, but distracted by the new knowledge that a person could do such a thing.

“If you let me think about it, I could probably give you the make and model.”

“Holy shit, really?” your eyes were wide.  Your expression betrayed just how bewildered and impressed you were by vehicle knowledge.  It might’ve been basic knowledge, but fuck it, the author can’t drive.

“Oh, absolutely- different bikes make different sounds.  Cars are similar,” Tara nodded her agreement.

“You can tell cars apart by their sounds!?”

“Yeah?  Can’t you?” Missy turned to face you, slightly bemused.

“I can tell that they’re old?  Or like, electric, I guess?”

“Okay, when this is all over, I’m giving you a lesson.”

“I’d like to get in on that,” Tara added.

“Excellent!” Missy smiled, “Now everyone shut up and let me think.”

-

The way the BAU treated Frank dragged your guard down further.  They were gentle, but not dehumanizing or infantilizing.  They just treated him like a human person, and you found that neat, and more importantly, Frank found that neat.  

Also, the BAU laughed at Frank’s anecdotes and jokes.  I will be fully honest.  That was more of a relief to you, especially because a decent chunk of those anecdotes and jokes were about you murdering the shit out of Spencer Reid using nothing but your words.

It really started on that very first day, when you and Spencer had gone to visit Frank.  He could see it from his hospital bed- Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, the way Spencer was very clearly trying to comfort you from some unknown upset, and that was it.

Frank said, “Wow.  Those two have sure come a long way from Doc telling him to go die in a ditch.”

And JJ, who had been questioning him, choked on her coffee and wheezed out a, “What?”  

And that was pretty much it.  Frank explained that Spencer had pissed you off, you’d hit him with the “die in a ditch” thing, and he looked so sad that you literally forgave him the next day.  (He left out the bit about the stabbing, because stabbing doesn’t just kill people, it kills moods.)

From then on, Frank was the premium source of gossip on you and Spencer.  Of course, Missy got in on it, too.

When they told Rossi about the time you’d called Reid a “shit-licking asshole fed,” the agent laughed so hard that he literally couldn’t speak for a solid minute.  Was he a big fan of the anti-fed talk?  Not particularly.  But you had gone at it with such gusto, and with such anger, that he couldn’t help but cackle.  

You knew none of this, but you knew that everyone involved seemed happier after the BAU took the case.  That was good enough for you.

-

Your guard fell because of Spencer.

Wasn’t that always the way this was going to go?

While the BAU took care of your friends, Spencer took care of you.  He made sure you got home safe.  He kept you in the loop about everything case-relevant.  He made sure you remembered to eat, which was kind of hypocritical of him, but oh well.  He offered to drive you to and from the hospital, which was a fun kind of hell, because the man obeyed every traffic law ever made, but you got to bully him for it, so it all evened out in the end.  He distracted you from the nightmare you were living through by offering fun facts.  He made the nightmare better just by being him.  

And he was the one to get Adam out.  

He didn’t announce this victory to you.  He just showed up one day, at the hospital, following behind Adam as the newly freed man burst into Frank’s room.

“Frank!  Hey, are you good man?  I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I would’ve been, but you know how it is with cops.”

“Shit, dude,” Frank beamed, “All things considered, I’m not too bad.”

“Holy shit, Adam?” you let out a hospital-appropriate screech.

“Oh my god,” Missy stood from her place at Frank’s bedside to give him a hug.  For a moment, she held him so tightly that it looked like Adam legitimately couldn’t breathe.

The moment she saw Spencer lingering in the background, she switched from one wire-shaped man to the next.  Spencer hugged her back politely, and then, in an instant, she was onto you.

“You sons of bitches did it!  You actually did it!”

“Did we?” you asked Spencer, lowering your voice as Missy, Frank, and Adam enjoyed their reunion.

“We did,” Spencer confirmed, stepping closer to you until you were side to side, whispering to each other to avoid disturbing your friends, “We found bank statements proving that this was a targeted hit, unrelated to Adam.  We’ve only been able to find the unsub’s side so far, but it won’t take us long to find whoever contracted him.” 

“Shit- that’s both really good and mildly fucking terrifying.”

“I know,” Spencer answered almost too quickly, but he covered it up just as fast, “But it means that Adam is a free man.  It’s almost over, (Y/N).”

You let out a small exhale, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, “Almost.  Thank you, Spence.  For all of this, for everything-”

“You don’t need to thank me.  It wasn’t just the new evidence.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, there was this local criminology professor, maybe you’ve heard of them.  They were incredibly insistent that law enforcement look deeper into the case, and because of them, the conviction vanished.”

A smile slipped onto your face as you turned to face him, “Was that a joke, Spence?  You’re doing ha-ha funny jokes now?”

“I’m saying you did a good thing, here, (Y/N).  Look,” he nodded towards the hospital bed, where your friends were talking, beaming, clinging to each other’s hands like they’d been shot, traumatized, and separated for months- which was an accurate summary, actually.

At your side, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, weaving your fingers between his slender ones.  You felt his grip tighten, his palm pressed tightly to yours.  His hands were warm.

“We did a good thing,” you whispered.

You pulled him closer by the hand.  You weren’t harsh or forceful, but Spencer still stumbled into you with what can only be described as a somewhat lovestruck grin on his face.

And then his phone rang.

You watched his face fall as he answered it.  His fingers drifted away from yours.  You could almost hear Hotchner’s voice on the other end.  The call only lasted a few moments, but it changed everything.  The air in the room grew heavy.  The room fell silent.

“We found the unsub.  My team is confronting him now, I-” he paused.

“They want you to go with them.”

“I have to.”

A shaky breath escaped your lungs, and you were kinda pissed at it- how dare that shaky breath reveal how you actually felt?  How dare it break free from your body, alerting Spencer that your world had just spun out sideways for the millionth time that week.

You were gonna square up with that fucking breath.

But first, without saying another word, you nodded towards the door.  Spencer nodded back.  Like that, he was gone.  You watched him go.  You stared at the empty doorway after he’d left.   The room remained silent.

I mean, it did until it didn’t- your friends couldn’t watch that and say nothing.  I don’t think anybody could.

“Holy shit, you’re just gonna let him leave without saying goodbye?” Adam asked, looking between you and the door so quickly that you were almost surprised that his head didn’t fly off.

“He’s down bad,” Frank whispered, nodding in agreement, “Go get him.”

“I- he’s gonna be back in five minutes,” you tried to reason.  It didn’t work.

“He could be back never!  He might die!” Missy ran forward, gripping your shoulders.

“He’s got a bulletproof vest-”

“THERE IS SO MUCH THOSE THINGS DON’T COVER!!” Missy progressed to shaking you, slightly, “Go get him!  Hurry, before it’s too late!”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Tell him you’re also down bad!” Frank exclaimed, no longer whispering.

“Down bad-?  What the fuck does that even mean,” you said, your voice growing quieter and quieter as you left the room and headed down the hallway.

“... Y’know, they taught me what ‘down bad’ means.”

“Same.”

As your friends continued to discuss, you were already halfway down the hallway, walking as fast as you could given the hospital setting.  Spencer was nowhere to be seen and you really didn’t have time to look.  You really had one choice.  The elevators.

You reached them just in time to watch that lanky noodle motherfucker step inside.

Giving up on decorum, you raced through the hospital corridor, yelling out apologies at every human person you passed- fortunately there weren’t too many, so it wasn’t like you caused a massive disturbance.  Most people just thought you were having your rom-com finale moment.  Maybe some part of you was trying to, but honestly, you weren’t really thinking about it.  You were mostly just thinking, “Shit, shit, shit, I have to get in that elevator.”

And you did!  You made it!  You stumbled through the doors and came to a stop in the middle of that tiny box.  Spencer reached out to steady you, his expression letting you in on his amused confusion.  You smiled up at him, trying not to pant- and then you came to a realization.

You had no fucking clue what the hell you were going to say.

To be fair, what the fuck is a person supposed to say in that situation?  “Heyyyy, my friends think I’m in love with you, so now I’m here, wanna talk about that before you head into a dangerous situation involving a hitman and many guns?”

Or perhaps, “Hey!  You’re a good person even though I keep insisting you aren’t one, so I want you to know that you’re a good person before I send you off to get murdered!”

Or maybe, “You’re hot, I’m hot, wanna spend the next thirty seconds doing terrible things to this elevator that will get us forcibly removed from this hospital?”

Or even, “Hi, you just did a really nice thing for my friends, and I really appreciate it, and even though I don’t express it, I do care about you a lot, so maybe don’t die in the next few hours.  For me.  Please.”

In the end, you just settled for, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Spencer replied, not taking his hands from your shoulders even though you were more than steady, “Is everything okay?”

“Okay?  Yeah,  yeah, everything is, um.  Everything’s fine.  I just-”  you froze again, because seriously, what the fuck could you say right then and there?  What could you say that would let him know everything you wanted him to know?

“Are you sure?” he looked at you, held you with such delicate concern.  You kind of wanted to partake in elevator ruining activities with Spencer until the two of you got kicked out of the hospital together. 

“Yeah- yeah!  Everything’s- I’m okay, it’s just,” you raised your hand, letting it hover between the two of you for a moment before you placed it over one of his, “Come out of this alive.  Make sure everyone else does, too, but… come out of this okay, okay?”

Spencer hesitated.  And then he wrapped his hand around yours and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles ever so briefly.

“I will.  I promise.”

The elevator bell dinged.  You’d reached the parking lot.  Spencer let go of your hand with a different kind of hesitation.  

“I’ll see you soon,” he offered, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Spencer disappeared into the parking lot, dashing out of sight and into danger.  You stood there, watching until the elevator doors slid shut and that infernal box pulled you back up again.  The humming metal lights above and the clanking metal around you harmonized into the perfect soundscape for your empty mind.

Spencer was heading into danger, as he always did.  You were returning to serve your community, as you always did.  Spencer might not come back, and you would always remain, and you realized that when the case was over, he would go back to Quantico with the BAU, and you probably wouldn’t see him ever again.

And it broke your heart a little bit.  Maybe more than a little bit.  A little bit, perhaps.

You were a long way from, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, go die,” indeed.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, @logicalhorror if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know!!

[gal-palanaeum]

Warmth by Thirstspren

Rated General, 1000 words, Akane/Yumi Yumi settles into her new life and begins to realize there's something missing.

Turns out, running a restaurant was a lot harder than it looked.  Especially when the head server wasn’t great at talking to people, the head chef had only been cooking for a single week, and all the financials existed solely in the brain of a person who was no longer on the same planet.  

(If Design even had a brain.  Yumi still didn’t know what that strange woman was, nor did her old assistants, who had thankfully stayed on to prevent complete disaster.  Except the one who’d fled when the old coatrack had come to life.  Putting up with Design’s oddities had been one thing, but no job was worth putting up with that, he’d said.)

Worse, Painter’s role in saving the city had made him a minor local celebrity, drawing thronging crowds and massive scrutiny, and a clumsy business operation coupled with furious demand was a recipe for failure.  Both feared that all their admiration would last only as long as their patience for late, cold noodles. 

“These (lowly) customers,” Painter groused one night after closing, as they stacked chairs on the tables for sweeping.  “Please tell me I was never this infuriating.”

Yumi balanced a chair on one leg.  “I may no longer be a yoki-hijo, but that has not changed my position on lying,” she said.

Painter laughed, then leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.  The chair toppled.

He winced apologetically and put the chair back the normal inverted way.  “I’m just saying.  I’m an artist.  Why did Design think I’d know how to wait tables?”

Yumi nodded in sympathy.  They both knew he’d get better with practice, but that didn’t ease his frustration in the time being.  

In comparison, she felt a little guilty at how quickly she was improving in her new role.  

They maintained separate residences, because neither felt ready to move in together.  Ironically, sharing a body did not prepare them for sharing an apartment.  Neither could be comfortable at the other’s preferred temperature, for a start.  Fortunately, all the former nightmare painters had been permitted to keep their free housing for a year to ease their transition into a radically changing labor market, and Yumi took over Design’s former quarters in the back of the restaurant, so they didn’t have to worry about rent.

Each night, after they closed, she practiced for long hours, basking in the residual warmth of boiling broth, measuring out herbs and spices and other ingredients until she knew the look and weight of them intuitively, and she could reach for each ingredient without conscious thought.  Meanwhile Painter walked home every night, watching the walls come to life with extraordinary murals commissioned by the government to create work for the unemployed artists.  Artists who weren’t him.   He’d finally gotten his love of painting back, just in time to lose his calling.  Then they’d sleep separately, and in the morning, they’d unite for breakfast and watch a couple shows on the hion viewer at Painter’s apartment.  Yumi would cocoon herself in blankets, and Painter would do his best to snuggle her from the outside.  

It was nice.  But part of her felt like something was missing.  She no longer felt that sizzle of energy when they touched, for starters.  That had been about their condition, she discovered—it hadn’t been about them.  Without the fate of both worlds hanging in the balance and a spirit artificially connecting their souls, Yumi feared she and Painter were falling out of sync.  Like a stone that refused to balance on one side, and needed a different orientation.

Keep reading

[vibraniumarm06-bucket]

A Friendly Smile From the Past - 4

A/N: Thank you to everyone showing love for this series! Sorry for the late update was trying to figure out which way to take it - so it's a bit longer than the others. Let me know what you think!!

Also, one shot requests are open 😊

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

“It is. He’s out on bail.” Peter says and it feels like everything in my body has frozen. 

I don’t know how long I stand there but I can hear the others ask what is going on, Nat is squeezing my arm hard and I can feel Clint stand to hold me. My breathing is slow but intense and I feel panic entering my stream. My heartbeat is in my ears pounding drowning out people’s voices. What brings me to reality is Bucky, he moves to stand in front of me placing one of his hands on my cheek and whispering “Come back, it's okay beautiful girl, come back, come back to me”. 

I stare into those blue eyes of his, those eyes I feel the most safest in, the ones I used to seek refuge in, the ones that feel like home. “That’s it, you’re doing great, come back to me everything is going to be fine” He whispers softly moving his hand across my cheek in comfort as his eyes bore into mine. I lean into his hand that is on my cheek to savour his warmth, his touch. Once Bucky realises that I’m okay his hand drops from my face, clearing his throat as he distances himself. 

I clear my throat, looking at the floor to ground myself. “How long since you got the envelope?” I ask, my voice trembling over the words. 

“Two hours. I’ve been calling since we received it at the firm” Peter’s girlfriend MJ says. 

I wince and hold my hand out for the envelope. A soft squeak leaves my mouth as I feel Nat’s hand slap mine. “Do you know what it means if you take that in your possession?”

“I do, Nat. I’m a lawyer, I understand what a subpoena is. I know what this one entails and how it will ruin my career. We knew it was coming the moment he died. It was only a matter of when. I just didn’t realise it would be this fast” I say as I take the envelope from Peter’s hands. “You both did the right thing by bringing this to me asap. As of this moment, T’Challa will be your boss at the firm” I say trying to put a smile on my face. 

“What? No, you’re my boss” Peter says. I look at MJ “Remember the conversation we had when I hired you? Well, that time has come. I will be out of commission, but T'Challa will take you both as his interns. He may not pursue the same sort of cases I do but he is one heck of a good lawyer” I say softly and watch as she nods. “Come on Peter, it’s going to be okay. Let’s go” MJ says, tugging his arm as he just stands there in shock. 

“You’re both my favourites, don’t tell the others,” I say with a soft chuckle as I shoo them both out of the door of the bar. 

Once the door is shut, I lean back against it as tears threaten to fall. I bite my lip trying to hold my emotions back. I cannot cry in front of everyone, which is embarrassing. 

“What is happening? Will one of you explain what is going on?” Sam asks, breaking the silence. 

“We literally can’t,” Nat says, staring at the envelope now in my hands. 

“Why not? What is going on Y/N? We can help. I can help” Bucky says, his voice sounding panicked. Clint scoffs “I’m a detective and I can’t even help in this situation, how are you going to be of help when you don’t even know the depth of the situation? Now we all have to get out of here before they come knocking” 

“Who’s they? We are not leaving until we know what is going on” Tony says slamming his hand on the table to command attention and answers. 

*10 years ago*

Steve plops down onto the bench beside you as he had taken a hard tackle and the coach wanted him to rest and not make the pain worse. “You know pretty much the whole team has been staring at you for the last 10 minutes,” Steve says through a soft laugh as he leans over taking some of your chips. “Oh please, they have not,” I say as I swat his hand away watching the football team practice, my eyes landing on Bucky a soft smile itching its way onto my face. 

“When are you going to tell him how you feel?” Steve asks, catching my line of sight resulting in a deep blush spreading across my cheeks. “Just because you’re dating Nat doesn’t mean you can intrude on my life as she does,” I say slightly annoyed. “I just don’t want to ruin the bond we have, plus I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me in that way”. 

“Look I’m just saying you should, you never know what could happen,” Steve says, shrugging his shoulders and not taking my words to heart. He truly is the perfect guy for Nat. 

I shake my head before turning to face him “I’m not ready to tell him just yet, I just need some more time Steve” I sigh and watch as he scans my face before nodding “Okay” . 

“So, how are you asking Nat to prom?” I ask nudging him with my elbow and wiggling my eyebrows, causing him to laugh. “Who said I haven’t asked her already?” He responds hand placed over his heart pretending to be hurt. “Well dummy, she tells me everything,” I say giggling softly. “ I know, which is why I can’t tell you how I’m doing it because then she won’t be surprised!” He says, narrowing his eyes at me “Because you would blab to her the moment you left this bench” . I pause and take a dramatic gasp “ Me? Spilling the beans… how dare you accuse me of something like that?!” I say trying to keep my face in shock but it’s hard to contain and we both start laughing our heads off. 

During that time practice had concluded and Bucky was standing in front of the both of you blocking the sun which made you look up at him. I couldn’t hold the smile that wanted to tear across my face as he stood there all sweaty making him look even more handsome if that is even possible. I hand him his water bottle and blush at the “thanks doll” that leaves his lips. 

“Are you still okay with studying after I take a shower?” He asks “Yeah of course!” I say which results in a large grin on his face which seems to drop as Brock approaches us. Brock nods at both of the boys as he runs his towel over his face to wipe his sweat. “Rumlow” both of them respond. 

“You boys mind if I pull Y/N aside for a bit?” Brock asks softly as he reaches for my hand. I watch Bucky’s face which seems to hold a form of anger as his jaw is clenched before he slowly shakes his head no. 

“What’s up, Brock?” I ask after he’s dragged me away from Bucky and Steve. I can feel their gazes on my back and I know they’ll always have my back. “I was wondering if you have a date to prom?” He asks as he reaches into his bag and pulls out a teddy with the words “prom?” written across its stomach. “Oh, I” I stutter softly looking back over at Bucky who isn’t even looking at us. I feel an ache in my stomach and a frown begins on my face as I realise that Bucky probably doesn’t want to go to prom together like we always talked about. 

“You didn’t hear about Bucky asking Dot to prom did you?” Brock’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I shake my head and try to hold my tears back. Of course, he doesn’t think about me that way, I’m not his type at all. “I thought you deserve better than him, so go to prom with me?” He asks as he holds the teddy in front of him and pouts which makes me laugh. I sigh softly, looking over my shoulder at Bucky who’s talking to Steve, my eyes connect with Steve’s and he just shrugs. I turn back to Brock and nod my head “Yeah okay, I’ll go with you�� . 

Befriending Rumlow had been the beginning of the end. 

3 months later

“Oh come on Bucky! You gotta smile” I say, holding the camera in front of my face trying to take a photo of him. I can’t help but laugh at the glare back I receive. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t for a grade,” I say softly, putting the camera down, and taking a seat beside him on his bed. I reach for my laptop to look at the previous photos of him taken for my portfolio. “Why didn’t you ask Rumlow, you seem to be spending a lot of time with him”. 

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? I asked you at the start of the year. Why would I backtrack on something we confirmed on doing?” I ask to take a peek at him from the side. The light catches the top half of his face making his brown hair look lighter and his eyes shine. The sun captures how handsome he looks and I can’t help but sigh as he looks quite dreamy.  I grab my camera while he mumbles something while I take the picture. As I go back to look at the picture, I gasp. “It’s perfect!” I squeal, shoving the camera in Bucky’s face. “Look! This is the perfect last photo!!” I say as I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight. 

Bucky softly shoves me off of him and my smile falls. “Did you even listen to a word I said before?”. “Bucket you were mumbling, you know I don’t know what you’re saying when you mumble and I was in the moment, I had to capture it! What were you saying, I’m all ears now,” I say, placing my hand on his arm and squeezing softly. 

He sighs and shoves the camera in my hands. “You know what, just forget about it. It’s not important” he says, his eyes roaming over my face, his stare intense making my heart beat fast. I gaze down at his lips; they look soft and kissable. My phone begins to ring, I grab it to see who’s calling “Oh, it’s Rumlow, I gotta take it” and I hear Bucky sigh as I head into the hallway. 

After hanging up the phone I notice Bucky staring at the photo frame on his bedside table. It’s a split photo of the two of us, one side is a few months after we had met and the other side is us replicating the photo on the other last year. I walk up to him and rub his shoulder and lean my head on his shoulder to take a look at the photo too. 

“Buck, do you mind if I leave? I have to meet Rumlow” I say softly into his ear. “Yeah. Whatever” He says, his voice cold and harsh. “Is something wrong?” I asked pulling away from him. 

“You always spend all your time with Rumlow now. You barely have time for your friends. The ones who actually matter.” He spits out. 

“That’s not fair Buck. You spend all your time with Dot which leaves little time for me to hang out with you. So, I hang out with Rumlow instead because Steve and Nat are all lovey-dovey and I don’t want to be the third wheel all the time with them because you’re not around anymore. I’m allowed to have other friends when you’re busy.”  

“Rumlow is not who you want to be hanging out with. He’s not who you want as your boyfriend. He’s not good for you” I recoil from his words and tone. “Since when was Rumlow, my boyfriend? He and I are just friends, and you do not get to judge someone you barely know.” 

“Oh please, that’s not what he’s been saying in the locker room. Boys talk, you know.” Bucky says, stepping towards me. “I’m just looking out for you. You have to stay away from him Y/N/N, for me please?” He reaches for me, his voice sounding pleading but I recoil from his touch. “Stop trying to dictate my life of who I can be friends with and who I can’t. You’ve barely been in it these past few months to even know what I’ve been doing. This is the first time we have hung out in months and only because you texted saying ‘you were obligated’ ” I say quoting what he had sent. I watch his eyes darken and I know he is simmering with anger, but so am I. 

“I have to rely on Steve to know how you are doing these days. You never respond to my messages and ignore me at school because you’re always with Dot. Since you felt ‘obligated’ to get this done and you don’t seem to have time anymore, I don’t think we should be friends” I say looking at the ground barely believing the words coming out of my mouth. I know they are said in anger but I can’t help but say them out of feeling hurt. I try to hold back the tears in my eyes not wanting him to see how upset I feel.

“I agree, this seems to be more of an obligation now than friendship.” He spits out as he begins grabbing my things and shoving them into my hands. I bite my lip to keep from crying 

and hold onto them walking out of his room, not responding to his mum on the way out. 

That was one of the worst fights I’ve ever had with Bucky since we’ve known each other. I knew it was my jealousy that had dictated my anger then but I couldn’t help the hurt I felt. I would spend all my free time with Bucky, we would do everything together. But ever since he started dating Dot it felt like I had been cast aside and Rumlow had been there to help fill in the time. Bucky and I had made up two weeks later after Steve and Nat had shoved us into Steve’s basement closet and locked the door. They wouldn’t let us leave until we had made up. It took a while for us to get back to where we were but we did it. It was mainly because it was always us no matter what.

*Present*

I always look back to the moment when Bucky told me not to become friends with Rumlow years ago because I wish I had taken his advice, I would not be facing the situation I am in now. I feel a hand on my cheek wiping my tears away and I notice that I had let them fall. I look straight into Clint’s eyes and see fear. “Come on Sugar, we HAVE to go now. I got a message saying he’s left the station now.” He says his voice wobbling as he helps you to his feet. 

Headlights shine through the glass of the bar window. “It’s too late” you mumble into Clint’s chest, looking over his shoulder and catching Bucky’s eyes. There are questions, worries and fear swimming in those beautiful blues. He begins to take a step closer and you shake your head slowly. 

“Everyone out the back alley,” Nat says nodding to the storage room door. “Uh, I don’t remember this bar ever having a door leading to the alley,” Wanda says confused. “We gotta go now, meet us at this apartment, there’s a spare key in the pot plant - we’ll explain later. You guys have to go now!” She whispers, pushing them towards the storage room, pulling a rack off the shelf and showing a doorknob. “Go now. We’ll see you later, you guys can’t be caught up in this” and with that she slams the door, placing the rack back into position. 

Once Nat shuts the door to the storage room and walks over to us, the bell to the bar rings. You pull away from Clint’s hold and focus on the person who walked through the door. 

“Fancy seeing you guys here.” He spits out “Aren’t you gonna hug me Y/N? I sure did miss my wife” Brock spits out opening his arms out for a hug as a joke and I feel the acid travelling up my throat.

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[thevanillerose]

CARE | YANDERE!MISHIMA x READER | PERSONA 5

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warnings: Yandere / Bullying / Kidnapping / Manipulation / Self-harm / Violence A/N: A writing commission for a fellow Mishima fan! HE'S SO UNDERRATED.

You were starting to worry.

He was in the office too often. And every time he was, he seemed to be injured in some new, concerning way. Purple, black, yellow bruises littered his pale, delicate skin on a daily basis. His already sad looking eyes were rimmed with a weary shadow, like he was just sapped from any energy he might have once had.

Being the school nurse’s assistant, it was basically your duty to look out for folks like him, helping out however you could when Nurse Takemi was busy. 

People like him…

The downtrodden victims of bullies. People like him who were so regularly crushed under the foot of others.

People like him who…didn’t know a thing about standing up for themselves.

Not that Mishima deserved it. His meek, shy little face always looked quite sad by default. His features were dark and dim and contrasted sharply against such a pallid visage. He almost looked like a ghost.

“...Mishima…”

His name left your lips like a whisper when you saw him enter the office again. For what must have been the 5th time this week. It was getting absurd now, no?

Shockingly, he looked even worse for wear this time. Even before he had shuffled closer, hunched over and hands clasped like he could hardly even bear to look at you, you could already spy the thin line of scarlet red which was running down from the tip of his nose, gracing his upper lip.

“Mishima! What happened!?”

You set aside the medicine bottles you had been organizing, and rushed over to him in a panic, fretting over the sheer state of him. You threw your hands out and ushered him deeper into the office, sitting him down on the edge of the bed and popping open the first aid kit.

“Your nose…did somebody do that to you?”

Every time this happened, you’d ask the same question. 

Did somebody hurt you? Who?

“I…it’s nothing-”

And every time, he almost seemed to play dumb about it. Like he wasn’t even sure how it happened. But certainly, certainly…it wasn’t anyone else’s fault.

It was always Mishima’s fault.

That was the story he told.

But you didn’t buy it for a single second, and this was the last time, the final time, that you were willing to just stay quiet and pretend you were ok with it.

“Mishima. Who? Tell me!”

You felt bad for snapping at him like that, watching the way he flinched and recoiled back away from the now bloodied tissue you had been using to dab away at his nose. You were just trying to help, sincerely, but in the process, you had frightened him like a little rabbit.

Yet it felt like if you weren’t firm with him, there was no way he would ever be honest. There was no way he would ever open up to you and actually admit what he had been put through.

“...I need to know. You understand?” Watching him warily, your hands reached out and interlinked with his, finger between finger. You squeezed him gently and gazed into his eyes worriedly, yet tried to express some sense of understanding at the same time.

“This has to stop. It’s gone too far. Who’s doing this to you?”

Mishima, meanwhile, was stunned.

He froze up under your touch, his heart all of a sudden running at a thundering mile a minute. 

“...U-uh…um…[Y/N], your…” his big, wide eyes, started to look down, staring then at your grip on him. The way you were holding him, he was bewildered, “Your hands…”

He breathed out shakily, as if he could scarcely believe it. He couldn’t fathom that this was actually happening to him right now. That you were actually touching him, holding onto him. His heart felt like it was going to bust out of his chest.

“Ah, sorry–”

You jerked back quickly, immediately feeling like you’d pushed that too far. Mishima was too fragile for you to suddenly launch something like that on him.

“...Sorry…”

No. Don’t be sorry.

Don’t be sorry at all…

Mishima blushed, and looked down and aside meekly.

“...Ok…I’ll tell you who did it…”

…

Kamoshida, that bastard!

What kind of a teacher rallied kids together like a gang? What kind of teacher would actually encourage them to hurt weaker students like Mishima?

One of the perks of being close to the school nurse was that in turn, you had some ties to the staff members as a whole. Which made it significantly easier to have some influence over certain school operations.

After explaining the situation, ratting Kamoshida and the students out for all they’d done (and not just against Mishima either), you were finally able to help the poor guy catch a break.

Coming in again just so you could check that his nose had been healed up adequately, you took that opportunity to tell him the good news.

“You won’t have to come in here anymore! Those guys won’t be bugging you again.”

You expected Mishima to light up, to be relieved, to show some sort of happiness over finally being free.

Instead, his expression was one more like…a sheer sort of shock. He stared back at you, mouth slightly agape.

“...R…really?”

“You won’t have to come in here anymore!”

Why did she say that like it’s the best news ever?

“Of course you can let me know if you have any more trouble, but I’m sure you’ll be fine from now on.” you pet his shoulder gently, not even realizing the utter turmoil that was now happening inside his head,

“See you around, yeah?”

You didn’t see it when you stood up and turned away from him, going back over to carry on sorting out those drawers full of medicine (you should have finished this for Takemi much sooner), but his forced, wavering little smile dropped immediately as soon as you didn’t have your eyes on him. His expression soured, curdled, his lips tugging practically to the floor, his eyelids hooding and his head lowering until a shadow was upon his brow.

…See you around?

…

He made sure of it. He made sure you saw him.

Sooner than you thought you would.

“Oh! M…Mishima?”

You were surprised when you saw him appear at the entrance to the nurse’s office so suddenly again. And then, rage began to bubble. Had it not been enough? Was he still being bothered?

His left cheek was red, like he’d been freshly slapped, and the corner of his mouth had been left slightly bleeding. Sighing, you quickly went over to him and clasped his arm, pulling him gently towards the closest bed.

“Not again…who was it this time? And don’t beat around the bush!”

But it seemed despite the progress you appeared to have made before, Mishima was back to playing the silent act again. He pursed his lips and just looked up at you through his lashes like a little mouse, not speaking a word about the perpetrators even when you tried to coax him.

Eventually, you just gave up, figuring he might never say. So be it but…this was frustrating. You thought you had finally been able to save him…

So you just begrudgingly patched up his wounds. Your hands tenderly worked to ‘fix’ him, brushing his skin, touching him so gently and delicately, with so much sincerity and care. 

You didn’t realize, again, the effect that you were having on him. His throat was a little tight. His heart was charging full steam ahead again. He was tense and…unable to focus on anything but your proximity to him, unable to pay attention to anything else except for every wonderful detail about you.

Your touch, your scent, the way you looked up close. The little hums you made while you worked. You were just the assistant outside of classroom hours, but you were as good as any nurse. Frankly, you could have done this full time, and he would have thanked you for it.

Being able to see you was worth any amount of pain.

…

It was relentless. 

Mishima never told you anything, never opened up anymore. But he always showed up, worse for wear.

You’d tried to ask around and see if you could figure out the culprit for yourself. But it was no use. 

Eventually, you were tired again. You hit your limit, again, you couldn’t hack it. 

“H-hey [Y/N]-”

When Mishima sheepishly entered the office that day, instead of your usual fawning over him, you turned and looked at him coldly.

“Again?”

That was all you said, just that one word, but it stunned him into silence. He stared back at you, like you were the one who had given him that sweltering bruise on his other cheek this time.

“I-I don’t under–”

You ignored him, gathering up some bandages and ointment, a couple of plasters, before storming right up to him and shoving the lot into his shaky hands.

“Here. This is everything you need to patch yourself up.”

“M…myself?”

“That’s right.” you looked at him straight, “Yourself. Because I’m not doing this anymore.”

As you turned to walk away from him, he blurted out nervously:

“Wh-why!?”

“Because-!!” you spun around sharply and glared at him, “You aren’t telling me what’s going on! Why won’t you just say!? I helped you before, didn’t I? Do you want to keep getting beaten up every day, huh!? Do you enjoy it!?”

After your rant, you were left with your chest heaving and your fists clenched, glowering at him. In return, Mishima gazed back at you shakily, evidently quivering.

“No…no I…[Y/N] I…”

“Save it! Please, just…if you don’t really wanna be helped then fine, but in that case please, go!”

When he still refused to budge, or do more than stutter and stammer awkwardly, you lost it. Any remaining patience you might have possessed was cast aside to the wind, and you stormed up to him again, this time spinning him around and basically shoving him out of the room. The door was slammed shut behind him.

…Mishima…

You sniffed, tearing up a little, turning around yet again, but this time letting your spine settle against the surface of the door, sinking towards the floor.

You felt sorry. You worried too, that you had done too much.

…

“I’m not doing this anymore.”

Your words haunted Mishima ruthlessly, relentlessly, as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. The faint din of other students was all he could hear intermingled with his own strained, heavy breathing.

“If you don’t really wanna be helped then fine!”

He gripped the edge of the sink, panting and heaving, picturing that these sterile tiles were the white walls of the nurse’s office, that his own reflection was instead you, looking at him with all that disappointment in your eyes.

“GO!”

“...I’m sorry…I…I was a bother. I-I’m sorry, [Y/N]...” sniffling, he tightened his grip on the edge of the sink as the tears came, racking his body with shakes, “I-I didn’t mean to…I just wanted…I just wanted to be near you…”

He watched miserably as his tears dropped down and gathered like little puddles in the sink. He heaved out a shaky breath, feeling weak, feeling nauseous. He kept replaying and replaying the sight and sound of your rejection, like he was in some looping hell he just couldn’t escape.

He felt so pathetic. He felt like he’d lost the most precious thing imaginable.

He couldn’t bear it–!

Then, Mishima slowly raised his head. He blankly stared at the glass in front of him, as if some part of him had switched off. Tears still rolled down his cheeks, over the bruises, both fresh and old.

He gradually, all too calmly, raised one of his hands. Inch by little inch.

Then, in a sharp, snapping blur, he smacked it across his cheek. His head was thrown to the side, eyes fluttering, a numb pain surging through his skin.

Again.

He smacked himself the other way, his head snapping in the opposite direction, red blossoming.

AGAIN.

Once more, and back and forth. So hard and fast his nose bled, his lip busted, his ears rang, and his head spun.

AGAIN! AGAIN! AGAIN!

He could take it. He could handle any pain. 

And when he looked at himself again woozily, his reflection swimming in distortion, he didn’t think it was enough yet.

Not enough to convince you he still needed your help.

He had to find some way, some way, because the truth was, nobody had bothered him since you dealt with Kamoshida and his cronies.

But that meant…

“You won’t have to come in here anymore!”

You’d meant it so kindly, but it struck him worse than any punch or slap ever could. He felt sick just imagining that he couldn’t be with you anymore. Those brief moments you shared when you were patching him up in that small little office, they were the only thing he truly looked forward to.

There was no point to anything else otherwise. You were all he wanted, all he was living for, even if he could only have you in the tiniest amounts. Those little tastes were at least something. They were enough.

He could keep going because he knew you were waiting. He knew he would get to see your sweet smile, your pretty face, hear your lovely voice, feeling your warm and comforting presence beside him, your soft touch. He knew you were always there for him, and had been from the first day you met.

It still bowled him over, how kind you had been. He would have never expected it. Surely not from someone like you, who had so many friends already, who was top of her class and the nurse’s assistant on top of it. Surely not from such a perfect person…

Yet you had been. You had been gentle with him from the start, and that was enough to hook him. You were like a perfect dream, that he couldn’t believe was somehow actually reality. 

So to think that you’d seemingly grown sick of him, that you didn’t want to see him anymore…

Sure, you’d offered to hear him out if he was honest. But wouldn’t that only make things worse? After all…you didn’t know. You didn’t know he’d been faking it ever since your first intervention.

You didn’t know his only bully now was himself.

“Come on…”

Gritting his teeth, Mishima reached up and snatched both hands snug around his throat, tightening his grip, tighter, tighter, tighter.

Choking himself so hard his fingers left imprints. Only letting himself go when he felt like he might collapse.

But still. That wasn’t enough.

I have to convince her! I still need her!

Mishima’s hands gripped the edge of the sink again, as he began rocking back and forth on his heels, staring at his reflection moving back and forth with him.

Do it…do it…

He flung his head back on his neck, gathering momentum.

DO IT!

He threw it forward.

The glass shattered into a spiderweb.

Blood dripped into the sink.

…

“[Y/N]...[Y/N] they…they hurt me so bad–”

Mishima halted almost as soon as he had whined his way in through the office door. You weren’t there. 

Instead, he was met with Takemi’s bemused expression, as she looked up from her papers and leaned back slowly in her chair.

“Geez…what happened to you?”

Mishima ignored the rivulet of blood dripping down from his forehead to his lips. He ignored the taste of iron in his mouth.

Trembling, he choked out the words quietly.

“...Where’s [Y/N]?”

Her cold eyes stared at him skeptically.

“She’s not here. She quit. Anyway, I think you better sit down–”

SLAM!

He shut the door again.

…

Taking some time away from school was probably a good idea. The stress and distress Mishima had been causing you had pushed you to breaking point. 

Still, as you sat there on the fluffy carpet on your bedroom floor, clutching your knees close to your chest, you stared ahead at the wall glumly, feeling guilty.

You felt awful. It wasn’t Mishima’s fault, after all. And he was a shy, meek little guy, the sort who wouldn’t ever find it easy to talk about this stuff. He had struggled enough the first time to prove as much.

But still…you just weren’t able to take it anymore. Perhaps you could have handled it better but…you were done.

DING DONG.

Jolting, you looked up towards the bedroom door. What a day to be home alone. Someone was ringing the doorbell.

And, maybe it was paranoid thinking…

But…what if it was Mishima?

Luckily, when you went out into the hallway and downstairs to the porch, you were able to check the panel on the wall which showed the feed outside, letting you see who it was.

A man, slimly built, yes, but wearing postal worker gear in navy blue, with his cap tugged down over his eyes. In his hands, he was holding a package.

“Delivery for [Y/N]?”

Blinking, you registered this for a moment. Delivery…did you order something? You had been so stressed out you couldn’t even remember.

“Um…I don’t think I ordered anything.” you answered cautiously, and in return, he glanced at the package.

“Oh, really? Well would you mind opening the door so you can at least check the label for me? If it’s not right, I’ll call my boss.”

His voice sounded deep and gravelly, nothing too familiar. And he seemed legitimate otherwise, so you decided to do as he asked. Besides, if it did turn out to be Mishima, it wasn’t like you couldn’t close the door on him.

And…why were you so worried anyway?

What would Mishima even do?

“...Okay, just a sec-”

You unlocked the latch, and swung it in. The young man held out the package for you stiffly, and you took it, looking down at the label.

“So. Can you check?”

Your blood ran cold. It wasn’t an address that had been scrawled there.

I’M SORRY [Y/N].

You tried to react quickly, but it was too late. The empty box went flying from your hands and clattered to the floor at the same time the chloroform soaked rag pressed up against your nose, and the ‘delivery guy’ lost his hat.

MISHIMA!?

It was horrifying. He’d completely busted open his brow, his face was painted in tiny, winding little rivers of blood. His eyes were wide and manic, not like the soft, cloudy expression you were usually used to. His mouth was smiling too cartoonishly, like he was forcing himself with every muscle to be ‘happy’ about this.

He lunged for you, and your skull smacked off the floor as you went down.

You were knocked out cold in an instant.

…

When you came to, it immediately registered that you weren’t at home.

Instead, you were in a dim, but organized, small little bedroom, only lit up by a computer monitor. Slumped against the pillows, you groaned groggily as you forced yourself to sit up more, and looked down towards the other end of the bed where Mishima was sitting, legs folded, staring at you.

His hand lowered as he finished dabbing at his wounded forehead, having seemed to have tended to it slightly at least. Though your head was aching too now, after being thrown down like that. You shuddered as the memories came flooding back clear as day though, and cowered back against the headboard.

“Did I do a good job, [Y/N]?” he laughed and chuckled awkwardly, brushing his black hair back a little from his brow. He seemed so much calmer now, but all the eerier for it.

“...M…Mishima why…why did you do this?” you asked him wearily, tearfully.

“Are you surprised?” he smiled softly, and rocked a little cutely on the spot, “I don’t think you meant to, but there was some chloroform mixed in with the first aid stuff you gave me. I’m not even sure why you guys had something like that but…well, it was useful.”

“I-it’s old…I meant to get rid of it…b-besides…it’s a solvent it’s…it’s not meant to be used on people. Least of all…me…”

You were the one who was all meek and quivering now, and when Mishima noticed this, he lit up, his cheeks flushing, smiling with amusement.

Crawling towards you, making the bed creak ever so slightly, he reached you. His hand came out and softly caressed your cheek, stroking down it, a pallid finger tracing the line of your jaw.

“Anyway…you asked me a question, didn’t you? Why I’m…why I’m doing this?” he asked, and tilted his head eerily, “Mm…because I felt like I had no other choice?”

Reaching up with his other hand, he touched his forehead, right between his dark brows,

“Sure it hurt, it hurt a lot. But luckily…”

He looked right into your eyes.

“I know someone who can fix it.”

“...Mishima…was it you? You were the one hurting yourself? Why?” you asked him, reeling with shock.

“Well, not the whole time but…recently? Yeah.”

You swallowed tensely, like you were gulping down a needle.

“...Wh…why?”

“Because…” his brow crumpled, sadness glimmering in those dark, stormy eyes, “You…told me you weren’t gonna see me anymore. I couldn’t bear that thought…so I knew I had to find some way you wouldn’t be able to turn me down…”

His eyes cast down, but you could catch the glint of moisture in them, as he picked at his nails anxiously, suddenly looking less scary, and more just…pitiful.

“So I…I really hurt myself.” Mishima looked up at you again, tears dripping, “You care, right?”

“...Mishima…”

Your eyes briefly glanced around the room. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you were locked in here. 

As gentle as he typically seemed, you couldn’t forget what he did at the door. What he was capable of.

Treading carefully…was probably wise.

“...Of course I care…”

You reached out to touch his cheek gently, surprising him so much he jumped on the spot.

“Y…you do??”

“Yes! If you’d just come to me like this I would have helped you, I wouldn’t have been able to turn you away. Why did you…attack me, Mishima? It wasn’t necessary…”

“I-I thought you’d reject me if I didn’t…if I didn’t do something. I still…I still didn’t know if it was enough…” Mishima reached up and clasped your hand between his fingers, haphazardly bandaged from the broken mirror.

“But it was…if only I knew…”

Closing his eyes, he breathed out slowly. You stared nervously at his face, which looked so oddly serene, almost adorable, juxtaposed with the state he’d put himself in. And you too now.

Opening his eyes again, he smiled warmly, squeezing your hand just as you had done for him before. His fingers interlocked with yours, holding you close.

“It’s okay now though…because you’re gonna take care of me, right [Y/N]?”

Mishima leaned in closer, just a touch. You could feel his sweetened breath dust your bottom lip, his gaze hooded and almost sultry (an expression you’d never have expected from him). 

One hand rested on your cheek, thumb pressing into your skin. The other, reached up. His forefinger extended, and jabbed in between your brows like a dull injection.

“Until I’m all better~”

Whimpering a little, you nodded slowly.

“...Yes…I…will.”

“It might take a while…”

“Th…that’s okay…”

“A long while…until I’m all better…”

“That’s okay…Mishima…”

You seemed to understand. Good. No need to use any of the other more…special medications he’d ordered online. Not unless you tried to turn him away again. Not unless you tried to leave. 

“Take care of me, [Y/N]. Forever and ever~”

He hesitated, shy as ever, but yet somehow exerting more power over you than anyone ever had, as he leaned in and kissed your cheek tenderly.

“Take care of me…”

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[lostonehero]

Sick days

.......

Everyone who lived in Hub city knew who the question was, and therefore, they knew the devil of hub city. However, this was a secret. Everyone who lived in Hub city wouldn't give up for anything. The older people of the city knew of the inhuman child that the church held in secret. His many escape attempts that always ended in failure.

The city doesn't like those who try to hurt their local cryptid. Even the villains of this city knew better than to attack when a sick day happened. The city, for its diversity, was all connected to the wealthy and the poor. They all followed the Question's conspiracy board website, which is held as a local online newstand of sorts. However, the online forums held another use to the people of Hub city. When the sign off changed on the daily posts, they knew they had to prepare.

..

During these times, the more wealthy citizens would have the excuse of time to leave town for the week, or business came up in the city over. The poorer would flee to Gotham, and those who couldn't leave or weren't locals who knew what to watch out for were on best behavior. Everyone knew if the Question was out of commission another would take his place, and it wasn't the retired villainess who ran the nice apartment building.

You see, Hub City is known as little Gotham, and take that in the worst way you can. When the local hero is out, you might get lucky in a sense and get the drunk. Who yes is violent and unpredictable, but you won't have a mass casualties event if you get the smiling woman. The villains and heroes alike learned fast if the Question was gone for more than a night. You better be on best your best behavior.

It was a peaceful day. It had to be when the news spread like wildfire that the conspiracy forum hasn't been touched in over 24 hours. Tensions were high as Hub City became more peaceful than Metropolis overnight.

And when Lex Luther came into the city crashing into a building in a life or death battle with Superman as the titular reporter, Lois Lane documented the entire fight, the locals rushed out of the street not screaming as if they were afraid the noise would alert the smiling woman.

As Lex and Superman was about to charge at each other they both seemingly frozen in mid battle. The air grew heavy with the locals watching on in terror as an uneasy silence overtook the city.

Theories jumped around in Lois's mind. She needed an interview with that man if he was even a man. She will start with the locals they always know more than they let on.

Before either Superman or Lex Luther could explain any confusion or speak to what was holding them the crash of a glass bottle to the pavement made them look at the man holding them apart.

The man sneered, his voice slurred, and he smelled of alcohol. "You made me drop my drink." He pushes Superman into the pavement then rips Lex out of his mech. "This ain't your city, nor is this racket good for anyone sanity or rest." He huffs seemingly sobering up in an instant his face replaced his annoyed look with a bored expression.

Superman pulls himself out of the pavement but is stunned hen the drunk throws Lex into his arms. "What are you?"

The man seems to take a bottle out of thin air walking away. "Thirsty." He huffs as he walks off into the distance.

Unable to follow having Lex in his arms, Superman just watches him leave and shares a confused look with Lois, who caught the entire thing on live film.

......

Micheal is cleaning the nonexistent mess from Victor's apartment as an excuse to watch him. Victor was still sick, and demons and angels both got sick despite not being mortal. Granted, those diseases were quite rare, and when it happens, it drains the creature of energy until the sickness has passed. Victor was also still a quarter human, so it was even worse for him when it happened.

Micheal cleared his throat as he replaced the boiling ice pack from Victor's head. "One of those superhero battles happened here. I put a stop to it before Gabriel could permanently stop it. It was the kryptonian and a human fighting." He frowns, watching the new ice pack melt even faster.

Against his better judgements he picks up Victor's phone. "This is the kid's phone, and I am not the child."

Victor's wings were splayed out as he writhed in pain from the sickness that racked his body. His tail thrashing back and forth, he was in a dead slumber a sweet miniscule relief from the pain. He couldn't even acknowledge what was being told to him.

"It's a shame human medication doesn't work for you, I can't give you ours either that would, well it was a torture method back in the day, wasn't it." Michael's rambling stops hearing Victor's phone ring. It has been doing that on and off. His new friends must be concerned.

The voice on the other end is female. "You're not Vic."

"That I am not. Before you get alarmed, he is currently sick with a fever." Michael frowns, looking over Victor. "He is unable to complete his daily tasks and jobs."

The voice is quiet for a moment. "Are you Michael?"

"The boy told you about me." He pauses. "Again he is ill."

"I can come and bring him some soup."

Micheal interrupts her immediately. "You will do no such thing he cannot consume anything or he will vomit. I will not compromise the little liquids I have been able to get into his body."

The female voice pauses quieter. "He's really bad, isn't he."

"He will recover." Michael hums hanging up the phone. Maybe he should not have answered Victor's phone.

.......

Helena's phone blared out an obnoxious ringtone before he picked the phone up at an alarming speed, interrupting the card game between Oliver and Dianah. "Hello Que?"

A scratchy groan of a voice answers the line. "You know my name, you don't have to.." He sneezes before he can finish his sentence.

Helena puts her phone on speaker so the rest can hear and talk.

"Hey Vic you alright, you've been out of commission for two weeks, I was worried your parademon family stole ya." Oliver joked to a sniff over the line.

"Just demon Oliver." Vic is heard sniffling over the call. "Not an alien." He mutters after.

"You sound like shit Que, what happened?" Helena hums relieved to know her friend is alive.

"Got sick... still recovering." Another sneeze is heard followed by coughing.

Dianah chuckles. "Rest up, you'll be well enough soon you can come by star towers."

Victor sniffs. "I will come by when I feel better. I just called to let you guys know I am ok."

"Wait before you hang up." Oliver rushes out, finally tackling the big issue that plagued his mind. "What is in your city that stopped Supes and Lex?"

The line is quiet, saved for Victor's sniffling before he finally spoke. "What?" The phone disconnected before Victor could speak again, leaving three heroes confused.

[geminai-ramblez]

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐔

SUMMARY: He was hidden far away, deep underground, away from human eyes; away from greedy gods. There was a reason why... A reason why his white wings couldn't see the light of day anymore. It was an order, an order from the Sun God himself, to let the child of his never see the light or moon ever again. Could you tell me why you had to open it? Why open his grave?!

CONTEXT: An alternate universe where a God has lost it all, furthermore, a human turned deity. What were the consequences of cruelty? What were the consequences of kindness? Well, only God truly knows.

CHARACTER(S): Hero Public Safety Commission, Midoriya Inko, Midoriya Izuku, Yagi Toshinori, and Unnamed OC's.

WARNING(S): ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT(S), CHILD ABANDONMENT, CHILD ABUSE(?), CORRUPTION IN GOVERNMENT, DEVOTION, IMPLIED DEHUMANIZATION, MURDER AND WAR, LIARS, MINDBREAK, OSTRACIZED, PROPHECIES, THREATS OF MURDER AND VIOLENCE.

A/N: Hello! I'm back with a new alternative universe... GOD!IZUKU!!! Now, I've mentioned before, in my PUPPET AU post that between PUPPET and GOD, there's hardly any difference with the amount of... messed up topics it touches, and for that, please be careful! Some of the topics this holds will not be healthy and aren't okay! If you don't like any of the topics mentioned or are uncomfortable please don't read this or PUPPET AU.

I always try to be subtle in how I word my stuff so, I'm not full-blown talking about a violent subject, but I also don't try to move away from it. And it's okay to not be comfortable with what I'll talk about! It's not everyone's cup of tea!

So, please don't read this if it's not your comfort zone. Look out for yourself and what you consume on the internet! With that out of the way, let's start this ramble!

BACKGROUND

So, this AU begins in ancient Japan. I'm not sure what period just yet because I belating realize that to have a concrete Izuku, I will have to take a crash course for dummies about Japan's History & Culture a bit more.

I only know a bit, but for the sake of this ramble, I'll keep it vague on what exact period Izuku came from so I don't misform anyone.

Anyway, during ancient Japan, there was this child, Izuku, who was born with white wings.

Some people took it as a blessing.

Others took it as a disease or worse, a curse.

It got to the point where people literally threw rocks or ran away from him. Terrified that someone, a human being, could have wings.

Rumors spread around about some entity living among mortals and scaring people with its white wings.

Obviously, that wasn't the case and Izuku was forced to leave his village due to people being scared and terrified of him. Even his own mother.

Now, for context's sake, Midoriya Inko isn't Izuku's biological mother, but she is related to him in some other way.

At some point, after being ostracized by humanity, Izuku was losing hope, crying, and weeping alone. He's around the ages 5-9, he's still a kid mind you.

And then he met someone.

I've spoiled it already, but the 'Sun God' isn't actually a God, he was the emperor at the time. The Sun God is none other than Yagi Toshinori or at least, an incarnation of Toshinori.

Izuku met him at some point, roaming ancient Japan to find a place to find to call home, and then he met the emperor himself.

Yagi was what kickstarted this never-ending devotion inside Izuku's heart because Yagi was kind to Izuku, taking him in, and nurturing him like his own leaving a hole inside Izuku's heart to heal ever so slowly.

Though, if this was fluff, I wouldn't have put the a/n warnings. :)

This is why the author can't have nice things!

But back to this, war was happening during the time frame of Izuku's birth and when he met Yagi.

what is up with me and war?

Izuku's backstory is based on a story I did a while ago where the MC was praised as a deity and became a deity in the end, but it came with the cost of their freedom, and the lack of respect it got because people abused their gift. This is how the MC turned cold and unforgiving: cruel to those he called 'the greedy.''

A similar thing happened with Izuku, but he wasn't praised. He was ostracized for his gift and the emperor was the only one who gave him a silver lining of hope that kindness was still there.

Not once has Izuku felt any malice within Yagi when they met, and he has never made Izuku feel inferior or unwanted.

So, for a while, Izuku did have a normal-ish childhood, raised by Yagi and soon to be heir to the throne, but alas, not all things can remain peaceful to the end.

Maybe once, in a different universe, would Izuku become Emperor when Yagi finally rests permanently and bring Japan one of its most peaceful eras, becoming a well-respected Emperor for the centuries to come.

Yet that wasn't his fate.

As stated, war was happening, and Yagi tried his best to keep Izuku away from the mess, but an enemy kingdom, rival, or something that brought harm to Yagi came forth and reminded Izuku how fragile life truly is.

Yagi died and the last words he gave Izuku were, "You will always... be my little... sunshine."

Izuku took over the throne since Yagi had no empress, no heir, other than his nonbiological son, Izuku.

It was the enemy's fault for hitting Izuku so hard to his chest.

He became a tyrant, going after people, murdering with accusations, and even slaughtering the enemy that killed Yagi.

Going as far as making his reign the bloodiest and most miserable moment in Japan's history.

People did try to murder him, but those who opposed him were met with a terrible fate in the end, one even worse than death.

Izuku became merciless, killing his advisors, and ruling Japan alone with an iron fist after one of his supposed advisors tried to poison him.

Izuku gave up on the thought that kindness could be true again: he gave up that anyone could be as kind and bright as Yagi.

Because no one gave the boy the same love he was given by the emperor.

It was ironic that one of his own kin, the Midoriyas, sealed him away after figuring out that Izuku couldn't die - they didn't have the means to do it back then - but in an attempt to pacify what was an enraged God amongst men, he was given a "proper" burial.

By that, they sealed Izuku near where Emperor Yagi was resting, hoping that by being near the 'Sun God's host,' Izuku's words, he wouldn't be so cynical to them if the day ever comes that Izuku would be released into the real world again.

Newsflash, he gets released by someone in the Corrupt Version of the Hero Public Safety Commission.

This is how Inko is related to Izuku, in a sense, not by mother and son, but by descendant and ancestor.

Izuku's mother took another shot at having kids after her firstborn became a monster among men, and when this baby was normal. Normal. Normal. She told the baby, Izuku's younger sibling about the monster that was related to them.

And with Izuku becoming a tyrant, this further proved to the younger sibling that their older sibling must be stopped, at all costs.

When Izuku gets sealed away he swears and curses his family that one day he'll return and murder them all because not only did his harlot of a mother use vile words to describe him, an embodiment of divine intervention, but she also made them believe that he was the bad guy here.

In a way, Izuku is, but even he has some, not by a lot, but some morals remaining. He wasn't bad - he didn't become bad by choice - he was the result of the failures his mother, the female dog, gave him. An innocent little kid back then.

Days, months, years, decades, and centuries have passed since then, and Izuku has been dormant ever since.

Waiting... waiting when someone opens his grave and unleashes the hell that was awaiting its gates to be open once again.

So, happens that via some rumors or murals, a new discovery about the history of quirks was released, and the star here? Well, Midoriya Izuku of course!

They show pictures and Old to Late Old Japanese characters over what seems to be a sealed door. It shows murals of a tyrant ruling over Japan with wings as white as snow.

Angel-like.

Some infer it as some over-exaggerated stories about Japan's emperors or some folklore. Others believe it to be the first sign of quirks ever! However, the thing I haven't mentioned before was that people actively tried to erase Izuku's reign permanently.

His reign wasn't talked about much, meant to be forgotten like his grave, but those - mainly the Midoriyas - who did want people to know hid their warnings and stories of this moment of Japan via words and not written scriptures. Leaving the murals around Izuku's grave as one of the few pieces of evidence about his reign.

It wasn't a surprise that historians or that, in general, modern Japan knew some of its history was missing because the reign of Emperor Yagi, or Sun as he will be called to not confuse him with modern Yagi, to the next had a gap between them meaning that something must've happened.

Something that was meant to be forgotten was erased from records completely or so the fools believed.

When more news articles were released about this sealed door, new discoveries and information popped out, but what caught people's attention was the age of the rocks and the warning written on the rock about a spirit - a god - waking up when the door gets unsealed again.

Many didn't believe, chalking it up to superstition, and those who did believe in the warnings were none other than the Midoriyas themselves.

Yeah, the Midoriyas survived and are still alive in the modern day, but Izuku's curse on them left them to dwindle, even fearing their lives for when the sealed room gets unlocked by some person.

Which is where we enter Inko again. She keeps getting dreams, warnings, from her ancestors about the tyrant waking up.

It leaves her on edge.

But the other reason why I mentioned the age of the rocks was because scientists were able to find a coherent age for the rocks, and they informed the public that the age of these rocks was around the same period as when Emperor Sun was alive. If not older yet younger before the next - written - emperor came to reign.

Meaning that this could be the moment were Japan could recover the lost history that ancient Japan tried to erase.

Oh, how curiosity kills the cats, no?

Izuku, in a half-conscious state, can't help but grin because soon.... soon will he reign over Japan again and make do with his promises because now?

Modern Japan won't be so- afraid of him anymore.

You could say he'll blend right in, no?

A/N: This would be how Izuku would be grinning, by the way, minus sticking out his tongue. He has some regalness to himself since he was an Emperor once, after all.

I have to cut this short because I would be making it way too long already if I continued to ramble, but not to worry! I'll continue it today and post part two tomorrow or by Sunday! Since this story is one of my older ones and has been continuously revamped till I found this version to be the most befitting.

I haven't even started on how Izuku's sealed tomb gets opened and his overall character! To say I'm excited is an understatement; I'm ecstatic!

And as an 'FYI' Izuku's theme song would be 'Call Me King' by Amalee because this is essentially his character summed up in this AU.

Here's the song! I'll ramble more next time! Take care of yourself and enjoy your day because this was free therapy for me today. - Gemini out!

[tk5150]

Wings

Okay, I just got through writing this piece it's sorta a one-shot. Please let me know if I should pursue this story. Please send likes and messages if you like this story it really motivates me to continue. I don't own the picture.

Summary: You're a hero with wings, you are currently mated with Keigo (Hawks). But, found out the hard way that he was cheating on you in the worse way. You're trying to wrap your mind around it.

The air was thick with steam from the hot shower you had taken a couple of minutes ago, and the scent of peony surrounded the area. You dried off your body and gently dried your wounded wings, flinching due to the wound at the base of them, you let out a hiss. Facing the immense bathroom mirror you wiped the condensation from the steam to look at your bruised and battered face and body. What once was you [h/c] locks now an uneven shape of singed, blackened tangled mess. You gently touched your busted lip that once kissed the love of your life goodnight, good morning, etc. 

Rage took over your entire body so much so you balled up your fist and punched the mirror, cracking it and leaving your fist a bloody mess. It felt as though all of your feelings came washing up to the surface. Why? Why did you block the line of fire?! And pulled me to shield you and her? Why did you save her and leave me in the line of fire?! You hurried to the once shared bedroom to get changed in your civilian clothes. You sat on the bed recalling the inquisition to what had transpired in the vicinity that you were patrolling.

You stood before the Hero Commission Board members. The commissioner was the one who first spoke.

 “Can you please explain in great detail what had transpired in the Mall of the World? When you first got dispatched there,” the commissioner looking straight at you.

 “When I first got the call that a prime villain had taken the whole mall and held people hostages was exactly at 11:32 am, I was doing a patrol with Endeavor when we had gotten the call,” you answered. 

“Upon getting that call y/n, did you get the identification of the villain?” A lady on the left panel had asked.

“Yes…yes, I did…we had recognized his quirk…it was Dabi,” you answered briefly.

“When you first arrived there were there any other heroes that were in attendance?” The man on the right side of the panel questioned.

“Yes…Hawks was on the scene,” you stated.

“Some people reported that Hawks pulled you in the line of fire shielding him and an unknown woman,” the woman from the farthest right panel.

“That is correct,” you answered and heard the whispered behind you.

 The Hero Commission is making you take a one-month vacation and therapy due to the circumstances that Keigo had put you through. After you debriefed them on what had happened, how many casualties, and what had happened between you and your mate.

You recalled almost all the questions they had asked you. You still have Keigo's pitying look when he used it as a shield to prevent his lover from getting harmed. You closed your eyes shut and still picture Keigo pulling you towards them against the heat and watching his lips say ‘I’m sorry y/n’. You really didn't want to go home, because you wanted to go to the hospital and sit with your mate. Even though there was no feeling he was, after all, your mate, you are bonded to him so you didn't have any choice. You were looking around for the car keys and your wallet, cursing yourself for not being organized and having an obligation to that asshole. Once finding them you headed for the door, almost stumbling on Enji. Surprised, you looked up.

"Enji…w-what are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you…and like always your not listening to the Commission, why are you visiting that douche?"

"Enji, I need to be with Keigo…I need to" 

"You need to rest and take care of your damn wounds y/n…do you think that he would've done the same for you?! He. actually. Put. you. In. danger...just wait until I get my hands on that ass hat of a bird!" Enji interrupted.

"Despite Keigo's actions…he is still my mate, I'm obligated to see him" y/n finished. Enji was clenching and unclenching his jaw while looking at his car ahead.

"Fine…I'll drive you there…while you're there have them patch up your body" Enji ordered and you nodded.

The drive was silent. Breaking the silence "y/n, once Keigo is through the critical stage, what will you do? Are you going to break the mate bond?...surely you don't like torturing yourself with this debacle?" Enji asked inquisitively. Looking down lost in your thoughts and thinking of that incident, you couldn’t help but close your eyes tight at what Keigo had done before the fire hit him through you in one unfailed blast, the look in his eyes said it all that 'I'm sorry look'.

Pulling up to the hospital, you thanked Enji and got out. He asked if he should wait for you in the car but, you politely declined. You went up to the information desk.  You smiled at the lady and asked what room is Hawks in, the lady kind of looked at you funny “um…Mrs. Takami…there’s a guest already visiting, and there is only one guest allowed in the room,” the lady awkwardly smiled. Sighing, putting your wallet on the help desk, and pulling out your identification card. “Here, it clearly states I’m his closest relative, his spouse,” you said while showing your card. Without any arguments, she informed you of the hospital room and you gladly stomped into the room, stopping at the sight of the other woman holding Keigo’s hand. She turned to you with tears in her eyes and a look of guilt washed all over her face. She quickly got up and proceeded to the door.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave” she whispered while walking past you. You quickly turned to her “We need to talk,” you replied.

Walking into the waiting room, luckily no one was occupying the room. You and she sat down facing each other, there was an awkward silence. You broke the silence and asked a question.

“How long has this been going on?” you sighed.

“About six months,” she answered while fidgeting.

“Why? if you guys have feelings for each other then why did he marry me?” you questioned.

“We didn't mean to hurt you y/n, it just happened” she replied fast.

Looking down with tears brimming your eyes. It just happened? Oh, come on Moni…this was a long time coming…don't piss on my shoes and tell me it's raining. Any self-respecting friend and woman would not help ruin a marriage let alone betray her best friend…I trusted you…no…I trusted both of you…I can't only blame you…I blame my husband too” you said with indignation. With your thumb and index finger, you rubbed your eyes trying to rub the tears out of them. Before she replied you added. “Was he ever in love with me?”

"No" she whispered, but you caught that.

"Are you guys in love?" You asked.

“Yes, we are in love with each other,” she replied while looking down in shame.

“so, he settled for me…because he couldn't have you, I was his second choice…someone to pass the fucking time…then that settles it…let me have an hour to visit with him,” you said while getting up, she got up and nodded.

Walking back into Keigo’s room you quickly shut the see-through sliding door and closed the curtains so you can maintain some privacy. The room was kind of bright, the sound of beeping from the heart monitor was constant, and the smell of rubbing alcohol and sterility permeated the air. Shaking your head, walking around the hospital bed, and sitting down on the chair next to him. "You want to know what's so funny about this situation…is that I was taken like a fool…like an imbecile…my heart should be broken in a million pieces…but, yet I don't feel nothing," you chuckled the crossed your bruised and lacerated legs. "You have to love that person to be heartbroken…and yet, I don't feel anything…hell, I should've known this outcome…the moment you started to 'work late' and me eating dinner alone every night" you said while staring at his unconscious form. "You know you hurt me not only physically but mentally…what gets to me Keigo…what gets to me…you made a conscious decision on sacrificing me to save you and that woman," you stated. "And, you know what else is funny Keigo? You would have thought that I would've died out there…but look who's in the hospital bed?" You smirked.

"I'm releasing you," you stood up from the chair and hovered on Keigo's form. “I release you from your promise, from our bond, from everything that has to do with me,” you said while taking his ring off of the fourth finger of your left hand. “I release you…Keigo” you whispered in his ear. You pulled out your phone and called the hero commission. “hello…I need you to get separation and divorce papers in order, when he is conscious, have him sign them also I would like to be transferred to the other side of the state, if not another country, and by the way, don't tell him my whereabouts, I will leave as soon as you give me the go ahead, call me when you have finished this task for me,” you said the hung up. 

Walking outside you felt a sense of relief, you took a deep breath. You felt so good to be released from your nightmare bond. Even your burns and wounds felt a little bit better. 

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

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You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

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Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[fgfluidity]

uncovered

Summary: The District Attorney is too observant for Damien’s own good. (Vampire!Damien AU)

Pairings: DA/Damien

Warnings: mentions of blood, vampire stuff

Length (Reading Time): 817 words (3m24s)

a commissioned work

@eli-bobeli @volbeast @statictay @mirrorslament @bagleyarts @moriimae @opprose @momos-peaches

my ko-fi is here

Some of these days are worse than others.

Damien has grown used to the routine, the instincts- at least, as much as one could ever grow used to being a vampire.

He has his blood meal, sourced from local nurseries who simply believe the mayor is tending his garden. He is sure to clean up well, brush between these meals, sterilize his utensils. He keeps his touch to himself, because he knows he must be cold- not the chill of the grave, but certainly not normal.

He doesn’t talk about it with anyone.

No one could possibly know. How could he begin to tell them? If they knew even a hint...

Would they fear him? Try to kill him? Try to study him?

This goes for his family, his friends. Mark, Will, Celine...

The attorney.

As much as keeping it from the others hurts, it’s their ignorance that hurts him most.

Or... he thought it was.

--

“Damien?”

He looks up from his book, finding his friend pensive, not quite looking at him but stiff in their chair, their fingers picking at each other.

Anxiety. Even if he couldn’t hear their heart racing he’d know, because he knows them.

He immediately puts the book down. “What is it, my friend? Is something wrong?”

They shake their head, just a minute thing, but they give him a tiny smile as well. “No, I only- well, I suppose... we should talk about something. Something important.”

Damien swallows hard. Those are never good words, and with all of his secrets to keep from them- some more mundane than others- it’s extra stressful. “Oh? What would that be? You aren’t about to try and convince me of a vacation again, are you?”

His attempt at a lighthearted tone falls flat, and his friend doesn’t laugh. Rather, they take a breath. “Your... illness. It’s not an illness.”

His throat grows tight, and he barely manages a strangled laugh. “Really, now- you aren’t a doctor, and-“

“I’m not stupid, Damien, please don’t treat me that way.” Their brief fire settles. “It’s no illness, but it is a condition. Do you think I would simply sit on the side while you suffered? I’ve poured over every book I possibly could- and I’ve been around you since university.”

They smile, as if they’re heard a grim joke. “Medicine doesn’t come from a nursery- and it doesn’t smell like blood. Hemophagia, sudden sensory sensitivity- your limp has gone, and I know because you don’t land as hard as you used to on your left.”

Damien simply stares at them, bewildered. “... Did you ever consider becoming a detective?”

They laugh. “Not my side of the law. I prefer showing evidence in debate until the truth is out.” His friend sobers up a little, looking over his face with the slightest frown.

“What is it?”

“... I only wish you had told me the truth first,” they murmur. “You may have changed, become... but I would never treat you differently.”

Damien shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. “But you understand why I might believe so. If word got out that I had become some kind of monster-“

“No.” They fix him with a stern look. “You aren’t a monster. Whatever your new diet or instincts, you aren’t preying on people. You found a way to feed yourself- a monster wouldn’t bother.

“But,” they sigh, “I can understand the worry. I’m not going to tell a soul, I’ll swear on whatever you like. I only... I wish to help you. You’re my dearest friend, Day. Anything you need-“

He winces. “No, don’t- don’t say that, please,” he says weakly. “Though... that means a lot to me. The sentiment. I’m doing well enough, I’ve kept myself fed and in check.”

“But it must weigh so heavy.” They watch him, eyes so full of sympathy. “I may not be allowed to help you with those needs, but... I’ll always be hear to listen to you when you need it.”

Damien smiles, reaching out to gently squeeze their warm hand, pleased when they squeeze right back. “You always have been. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Their smile soon turns mischievous. “I had another question...”

“Coupled with that look, I’m anxious,” he jokes, and their grin only grows.

“I just wanted to know if you can turn into a bat.”

Damien barks a laugh, a real one. “You know, I haven’t tried?”

The attorney stands from their chair, tugging at him. “Well, that’s your first mistake. We need to figure it out. I’ll get your attic ready- you just think batty thoughts.”

“You have enough for the both of us,” he teases, poking at them.

It earns him a swat, them twisting away from his finger. “Keep talking like that and I’ll feed you bugs instead of blood.”

He can’t turn into a bat.

He can calm them down after a brush with spiders in the eaves.

[ask-prime-starscream]

This was a commission. Smokescreen supports Blurr while he gives birth to the Predacon egg.

Blurred Salvation

Blurr was alone. On more than one account. Isolated in a way the fleeting schemes around him could never even begin to fathom. They were there, these other people, but they couldn’t reach him, they were blocked from him. He could have been on the other side of the planet just as well, stranded somewhere on flat, endless planes of rusty sand. Alone.

What Starscream and Soundwave had done to him was worse than the Pit. Inside a pool of molten metal he would have been at least connected to the countless other unfortunate sparks that had been dragged into a senseless war, forced to kill one another, oftentimes not even knowing why. His metal melting into something formless, something that wasn’t him sounded like salvation. That’s how far they had pushed him. These rotten Decepticons and the monster, the dragon. A chess piece in their game, yet the one who arguably hurt him the worst. The depravity of his acts would have still made him speechless to this very day, if he hadn’t been already muted. His train of thought stopped there for a second, yet not even a bitter laugh could escape his lips…

A white blotch appeared in his field of vision. It could be the Autobot medic or the other race car, it was difficult to tell them apart when malware formed every face, gesture, symbol, glyph, letter and number into a mess of unpleasantly jittering squares that seemed to grow and shrink to the beat of his own spark pulse. He searched for some blue blotches among the few red ones, but his eyes and mind grew quickly tired of the display of his malfunction.

No more, he thought to himself. At least he understood his own thoughts and what he willed right now was to curl up in his bed, cocoon himself into the blanket and escape the waking world at least for a short amount of time.

Dull noises reached his audio receptors. The white blotch tried to communicate with him again, reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers. It must be him then, the race car. He was the only one trying to get so close to him. The only one who hadn’t given up on him, whose gestures towards him weren’t in order to perform another useless exam. Blurr could find meaning in his touches. 

You are not alone. I’m here.

His own hand didn’t move. Didn’t reciprocate. Whether the malicious coding wouldn’t let him or he himself didn’t want to give in to solace and hope. He wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t want to accept the possibility that this would be his only tiny window to communicate with the outside world till his body would fall apart in future eons.

I just want to sleep.

Suddenly a convulsion shook his entire broken body. He opened his mouth to scream, but it wasn’t like even that was allowed to him. In hurt and confusion, he clutched his abdominal plates and sank to his knees. The next convulsion was so bad, he barely felt white blotch’s hand on his back, or heard how the previously dull noises turned into an angry crackling in his head. It was like he was being split open, like a heat sword of a Decepticon had entered his body. Then he was lifted up by two strong arms and hastily carried to the place he had desired to be in the first place: his bed. Not that this would give him any comfort now… He immediately started to toss and turn like being shaken by a cruel nightmare. Where to put all of this pain in?! There was no way, no release! In the midst of all his hurt and confusion a thought dawned on him. 

No.

It was coming. The egg. The Pit-Spawn egg of the dragon! For a moment the last remnants of his sanity seemed to say their farewell and maybe that would have been a blessing.

I’m giving birth to my rapist’s spawn.

He wanted to scream again, but only silence left his mouth. Not even a croak could escape him.

Kill me. If you care about me, kill me and end this!

Of course the race car wouldn’t do it even if he could have understood him. Blurr wondered how he must look to him, writhing in unspeakable pain in complete silence like a malfunctioning doll. How ridiculous he must look! His legs, lower body, the sheets and mattress now soggy with disgusting fluids. Death would be mercy, couldn’t this disgustingly hopeful Autobot understand that?!

His hand was grabbed again and Blurr’s fingers cramped around it. Another wave of pain rattled his tormented body. Something inside his head clicked and gave way to a thought that made him forget about the pain for almost a second in sheer fright: It’s too big.

Blurr cramped and kicked his legs, pushing the useless, wet blanket away that was supposed to give him comfort. Alarms went off in his head, his processor bombarded him with warnings that were meaningless to him. He would be stuck. He would be stuck with this pain forever! 

A large, strong arm scooped him up in some sort of half-embrace and Blurr felt the other bot’s face right next to his own, registering the dull, bassy sounds of something that might have been soothing words. He couldn’t fight it any longer, he curled into this sloppy half-embrace and craved every little bit of support he could gain from it. He no longer cared how he looked or how disgusting he was. He just wanted the comfort that was offered to him so willingly. 

Then his modesty plating retracted and revealed his probably swollen, widened port to the fullest. White pain rocked his body and he grit his teeth so hard it was a miracle none of them broke off. He didn’t know if his hand had squeezed the Autobot’s hand to a wrung piece of scrap in the meantime, but when the white, hot pain diminished, followed by a nightmarish, sucky sound and the feeling of something grotesquely large leaving his body… he finally let go and sunk back into the embrace, panting hard.

Blurr lay there for a while, in all his sticky fluids and coolant and the Autobot didn’t move. A humming sound filled the room and seemed to drive out the silent screams. Blurr reached out and a hand gently clasped his fingers again.

You are not alone.

Blurr intertwined his fingers with those of the Autobot.

I know.

[skiyoosmi]

post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021. reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 1,631 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, references to gore, mentions of anxiety, disturbing imagery, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! A/N: Okay, ya'll! This is sort of an important turning point in the story and shit gets pretty dark from here on out for a while, so hold onto your pants. Take the Trigger Warnings seriously. Summary: The Alexandria group, including Y/N, heads to Hilltop.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl stood beside Rick as the last of your group who would make the journey to this new community loaded into the RV. He could feel Rick glancing at him and Daryl knew what he wanted to ask before he asked it.

“I still dunno,” he rasped. “But Y/N… She’s fearless. But when she talked about them—these Saviors, this Negan guy, she was scared. I ain’t ever seen her quite like that.”

Rick’s brow drew down lower over his eyes. “You still think she’s going to tell us what she knows?” he asked.

Daryl nodded. “Ya. Just gotta wait. When the time is right, she will. Let’s just see how this plays out first.”

It was an eventful journey. Your group had rescued some of Jesus’s people on the way to what he called The Hilltop, his community. So far everything he had said had been true. You were a good judge of character and despite your initial concerns about this guy who had managed to escape his holding cell and bondage back home you admitted that you liked him. You trusted him.

He noticed you studying him and gave you a perceptive glance.

“Y/N, right?” he said. You only nodded. There was a pause. “Something on your mind?”

You just stared right back at him. Suddenly the RV lurched. You could hear the tires spinning below. Rick was swearing under his breath. Jesus got up and went to look out the windshield.

“We’re stuck,” Rick said. To his surprise, Jesus smiled.

“It’s alright. We’re here.”

Hilltop was a strange but beautiful place. You felt like you had been transported back in time. The smell and sound of the blacksmith shop filled the air. There were stables full of horses. Daryl stayed close to you as everyone wandered in and up toward the stately house at the top of the hill, the reason for the place’s name. “I’ll introduce you to our leader, Gregory. I, uhh… I’ll apologize for him in advance. He can be a little difficult,” Jesus said.

“Difficult how?” Daryl pressed, his hand automatically going to the strap of his crossbow.

“He’s harmless. But definitely can be difficult. You’ll see,” Jesus said.

A tense meeting. An offer to trade, and an offer rejected, much to Rick’s annoyance and your irritation. You needed food back home. There were hungry kids. Your fists clenched and unclenched. This whole trip seemed like it was going to turn out to be a waste of time.

Daryl stood up from his seat on the steps of the big manor house and came over to you. “How ‘bout that Gregory guy, hmm?” he rasped.

“I didn’t realize there were still slimy politicians around,” you said. “How is he not dead?”

Daryl nodded. “Mhm.”

Rick and Jesus were in discussion as you leaned up against one of the support pillars on the front porch when there was a sudden commotion by the gate. You straightened up again, and Daryl swung his bow off his shoulder, cautiously watching the action.

Jesus rushed to meet the small group of people who had just entered, giving them a questioning look. “Craig?” he asked.

“They took him,” came the reply. “They said it wasn’t enough.”

Jesus heaved a heavy sigh and put his hands on his hips, hanging his head. “It was exactly what was agreed.”

“Yeah, well they still said it isn’t enough. Where’s Gregory? I’ve got a message to deliver to him,” one man said.

Gregory wandered out and casually came to see what the fuss was about. Jesus was explaining what the problem was when the man with the “message” plunged a knife into Gregory’s stomach. Rick was on him in two seconds, throwing him to the ground.

You watched the following events as if through a fog. Daryl was immediately in the melee but you seemed frozen, just staring at the fight that ensued. In all the scraps, all the fights you had been in together outside the walls, Daryl had never seen you freeze like that. You didn’t snap out of it until everything was all over and Daryl was beside you again, gently touching your arm and saying your name. “Ya alright?” he asked.

You looked at the body of the now dead man who had stabbed Gregory and slowly shook your head. “No. This is what they do,” you said quietly.

Jesus heard you. “You know about them? The Saviors?” he asked.

You paused for a moment, uneasy feeling everyone’s eyes on you, and you nodded. “Yeah. I know about them.”

Jesus nodded, his expression grave. “What do you know?”

“I know what they do. And I know why your leader is hesitant to trade with us. He’s worried there won’t be enough for all of you, let alone us if things keep going the way they have been.”

Jesus nodded again. A gathering of the Hilltop residents formed around all of you, listening intently.

“I know they showed up and immediately killed one of you. Right in front of all your people. Terrorized you. And then they offered you a deal, like they were being generous that they only beat one of you to death. Half of everything you have is now theirs. And that is a recurring payment. And half? It doesn’t mean half. It means whatever they want it to mean.”

Jesus paced slowly toward you. “How—how do you know all that?”

“It’s just—it’s what they do,” you said simply. Daryl could sense how tense you were.

A tall Hilltop resident stepped forward looking angry, his hand clenching the shaft of his spear so tightly his knuckles were white. “You seem to know an awful lot about them. Were you one of them?” he asked with venom, his voice shaking in his anger.

Daryl was immediately at your side. “Ya better watch it,” he growled, pointing sharply at him.

“It’s alright, Daryl. It’s a fair question,” you said softly. “No. I wasn’t. And I’m not.” There was a slight waver in your voice as you spoke, and Daryl’s blue eyes wouldn’t leave your face even as you avoided his. You looked at Rick and Jesus. “We need to talk.” You turned on your heel and headed back up toward the manor. Rick, Jesus, and the rest of the Alexandria group followed.

You all congregated back in Gregory’s office, vacant now that he was being treated in the medical trailer. Rick looked to you expectantly but Daryl spoke first.

“Lemme get this straight. These assholes show up and kill one of ya and now they get as much of your supplies as they want?”

Jesus nodded. “Not just one of us—a kid. He was sixteen.”

Daryl’s eyes flashed. “This is bullshit. The whole thing could just be a con. How many of ‘em have ya seen?”

Jesus shrugged. “Maybe twenty at a time.”

Daryl scoffed and looked at Rick. “We can handle twenty.”

Rick sighed, his hand resting on his gun in its holster, he sighed heavily, considering the weight of what they were potentially getting into. “Yeah...”

“I say we get their man back and wipe ‘em out. If we take care of these assholes, ya think Gregory would trade with us?” Daryl asked forcefully.

“I think he would,” Jesus agreed. “You’re sure you could do this?”

Rick nodded. “We’ve fought people like this before and won.”

“No. You haven’t.” Your voice came from near the wall where you were leaning up against the bookcase. Everyone’s eyes were on you again. “There are way more than twenty of them. There are hundreds and hundreds.” Daryl thought he heard a slight shake in your voice again. You straightened up. “They have a headquarters and satellite outposts. Guns. A lot of guns. And a lot of ammo. Vehicles. Supplies. They have their own damn workforce, basically slave labor.”

“We can’t just roll over,” Rick said. “They have one of Hilltop’s men.”

“I’m not saying rollover,” you shot back. “There are ways to fight them but charging in, guns blazing, is only going to get a lot of us killed and it would hardly put a dent in their numbers.”

Daryl was anxiously chewing his bottom lip and wondering more than ever what exactly your past was.

“I need you all to really hear me. Whatever or whoever you think that you’ve fought like Negan—it’s worse. He’s worse.” You glanced back at Jesus. “We will get your man back, but we need to do it quietly.”

And that’s how it began, the fight against The Saviors and the partnership with the Hilltop. You did get Craig home, and all it took was a walker head dressed up to look like Gregory’s. You had to talk Rick out of blasting the entire outpost. You tried to make them understand what shitstorm would come back your way if you did something like that. In the end, with Gregory out of commission, Jesus sent you back home with a load of food in exchange for a promise to work out how to derail The Saviors.

“Ya think it can be done?” Daryl asked you on the ride home, sinking into the seat beside you in the RV.

You nodded. “It can. But it won’t be quick. And we have to be smart about it. And Maggie is right, it’s going to cost us.” You looked over and met his eyes. “It will cost us a lot.”

[johnkrrasinski]

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 3: chains around my demons

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,798

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) angst, mentions of anxiety, nightmares, murders.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

The next day, you packed up your bags and were ready to leave. You were waiting on Sam to arrive at Wakanda with the quinjet so he could fly you and Bucky back to the compound. You were a little bummed about leaving Wakanda, it had been a therapeutic experience for you and Bucky to be here. The thought of living the domestic life, in a beautiful place like Wakanda that is far away from the bustling city of New York was enticing. Sometimes you’d look at Bucky just walking around in his shirt and sweatpants doing the most mundane things instead of getting prepared for another mission and you’d think “I could get used to this.”

You thanked T’Challa, Shuri, Queen Ramonda and the Dola Milaje for everything they had done before you bid your farewell. You promised to stay in contact with Shuri and the Dora Milaje but it was still hard to leave them, they were truly the best people you had ever met. They reminded you of everything HYDRA was not. You could see why Bucky always spoke so highly of them.

Later that night, you had the compound all to yourself. Tony was having a date night with Pepper, Natasha was on a mission to Hungary, Sam was visiting his sister in Louisiana and Rhodey was dealing with some air force matters. As much as you loved the Avengers, you were grateful for this moment alone with Bucky.

The dimmed lights in the kitchen where you and Bucky just had dinner gave him an idea, “doll, get up…”

She did as he told even though she had no clue what he was planning, “for what, Bucky?”

He didn’t answer her but rather, he commanded FRIDAY to play a song called Put Your Heart on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. “Let’s dance, doll.”

He put his flesh hand on your waist and took your left hand with his vibranium arm, “I haven’t danced in ages, Buck.”

“Me neither, doll, but we’ll learn from each other,” he smiled affectionately at you.

It started off slow and you kept your eyes on each other, saying things that words can’t illustrate. It’s love, the realization of how fortunate you both were to have found each other. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” you uttered softly as you fiddled with his dog tags.

“Me too, doll. But we got each other now, I won’t let anything keep me away from you for too long.”

There was a brief silence. “Do you remember the last time you danced like this?”

“1945, Stark Expo, before I was shipped out to England. Her name was Connie and I took Steve with me because I wanted to spend it with him on my last night. I set him up with Connie’s friend but the punk just left to try to enlist in the army.”

Steve. You’d heard about him from Natasha and Tony. No one outside of the Avengers really knew where he was but you knew that he went back in time. That’s all you knew about it. You had also learned about his and Bucky’s friendship and how they really went all the way back. You were often curious about his ‘disappearance’ however you didn’t wanna pry or made Bucky feel worse. Losing a friend was always hard, let alone someone who was his only connection to his past, the life that he knew before he was forced to live out those violent years. You’d heard from Sam about how Steve was the only reason why Bucky stayed alive and how he had thought about committing suicide before. Now that he was gone, Sam often feared that Bucky would snap and give in to it but he always tried to be there for him. You were just glad that Bucky had Sam even before you were around.

“Do you… miss Steve?” you hesitantly asked as you rested your head on his chest.

“All the time,” He confessed. You were a tad relieved that Bucky wanted to open up about him to you. “He was the only family I got left, and when he went back, I felt empty. I was just lucky that Sam didn’t give up on me… And that, I met you.”

You smiled, you lifted your head to look at him. “You’re never gonna lose me. Not again,” you touched his face and he kissed you. It was soft, nothing like the kiss on your last night in Wakanda, but you could feel him pouring all the emotions and gratitude he had for you and you did just the same.

He lifted you as you wrapped his legs around his waist, still maintaining that kiss. Bucky carried you onto the dining table where you just had your dinner and he laid you there as he trailed to your throat and all the way down to your body which was now half-exposed after he lifted the hem of your shirt up until your breasts were revealed.

You weren’t wearing any bra so it was easier for him to access your nipples, he sucked on the right one as his flesh hand made its way down to your pants, unbuttoning it, and he inserted his fingers to find your clit, rubbing it in circles, making you even wetter every second. You shut your eyes, letting him have his way with your body.

His fingers and his tongue worked so magically that within seconds, he had you close to orgasm. “Bucky, so close…” You could feel his smirk against your nipple and he rubbed you faster. You moaned his name as you released all over his digits, soaking them up and he lifted his head to look into your eyes as he sucked your juices all over his hand like a fucking ice cream.

“You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” The sight of Bucky staring intensely at you as he sucked on his fingers that were drenched by your cum was euphoric, like watching a live homemade porn video. Bucky took off his sweatpants and his shirt, discarding them on the floor. Seeing him shirtless never ceased to mesmerize you, his body was a work of art. He’d told you one night that it took him a while to accept the scars on his body, let alone the bionic arm that felt nothing like a human but you told him that you loved every inch of it and if you could, you’d worship it forever.

Bucky then lifted the shirt that was still rumpled on your chest, up to your wrists, where he used it as a makeshift knot, keeping your hands above your head, “stay there, understand?”

“Yes, sergeant.” You had no idea what sparked that nickname, but from the way he grinned, he sure loved it and if he loved it, then you were sure to use that in future steamy sessions.

“Sergeant, huh? You’re in big trouble, darling.” Bucky tore your damp panties and you gasped, not expecting him to be so aggressive… Not that you were complaining though. “Bucky…”

“Shh, let me take care of you, baby.” He kissed you ferociously, with his tongue completely dominating your mouth. Without any warning, his middle finger intruded your body… But it was an entirely different feeling from the last time he did that to you because he was using his vibranium arm and the sensation instantly took over your body, running in your veins like that serum in his blood.

“Oh God, Buck…” You whined as you looked down to where his finger was moving in and out of you at a slow pace.

“Does it feel good?” He asked as he kept looking at your face, searching for any signs of discomfort but with each motion, you only seemed to enjoy it.

“Yes, it feels fucking amazing… Don’t stop, please.”

He began to move his digits faster, and when your wails grew louder, he inserted another finger and you arched your back. “Fuck, oh God…” Bucky curled his fingers to brush your sweet spot, pushing you to the edge and you cum for the second time all over his vibranium hand.

“You’re so hot when you cum,” he whispered in a gravelly low voice that could weaken any woman in the knees. He pulled his fingers out of you and he used your juices to stroke his member to make it easier to slide into you.

Bucky lifted your legs onto his shoulders and he lined his cock to your entrance, slowly as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Bucky began moving, he was taking his time with your body, wanting to feel every inch of you and you of him, and you whimpered with every thrust. He felt so heavy between your hips that you could feel your orgasm approaching fast, even with the languid pace.

“I’m not gonna last long…” You said in between whimpers.

“I know, doll. Just let go when you’re ready, okay?” He began to speed up, his grunts and the sound of your skin slapping was obscene, making you nearly forget you were fucking in the place where the Avengers would feast (if they found out what you did on this table, Tony would hire a cleaning service company to scrub the entire surface thrice.)

The coil in your lower abdomen tightened and you knew you were seconds away from rupturing. A few more thrusts and you hit your peak. Bucky kept holding your hips tightly and he continued to pound into you, prolonging your orgasm as he chased his own climax. Your body trembled from the aftershocks but from the way Bucky was impaling you, you could feel a fourth orgasm coming and you didn’t know if you could take it anymore.

He felt you squeezing his cock once again and you both came together, pleasure washed over both of you. He shot his load inside you, painting your walls white. A few more shallow thrusts to blow every drop he had left within him. He stayed inside you as he hid his face between your neck and your shoulder, the warmth of his body on top of you was comforting despite the sweat all over your body.

Bucky lifted his head to look at you and sweep the strands of hair sticking on your forehead, “you okay?” he panted. You could only respond by nodding, not moving because of the weight of him still between your legs and how completely spent you were.

Once he had regained his composure, he retreated himself out of you and he carried you in bridal style to your room, wanting nothing else than to take care of you with a hot bath and forehead kisses under the duvet.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream @bluemoon-icecream @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

[shin-city]

Damage Control [Katsuki Bakugo x Reader]

pairing: prohero!bakugo x sidekick!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

word count: 3.7K

tags: sexual content, oral sex (female & male receiving), praise kink, semi-public sex

a/n: well that’s one way to overcome your fear of elevators

~

“Fifty-thousand dollars in damages!” you reiterated to the fiery man in front of you, who made no effort to mask his indifference towards what you were saying to him. He didn’t even bother looking at you until you’d thrown the invoice from the city on his desk, offering you a stale, blank stare. That look usually served as your warning that you were on thin ice, but you were too agitated to heed it.

“Are you even listening to me right now, Bakugo?”

The blonde rolled his eyes before setting his brows into that signature frown. “It’d be damn hard not to with all the yelling you’re doing.”

You let out a sardonic laugh, not believing that him of all people had a problem with yelling. Working with him for so long was the reason you even yelled so much in the first place. “Well, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Bakugo grunted lowly, glaring as you chastised him. He hated when you reprimanded him like this. He hadn’t put in all of that hard work over the years to become a pro hero, just to have to answer to others for his actions. Especially you- his sidekick. While he didn’t treat you as his lesser just because of your title (not as much as he used to, anyways), he still expected you to treat and speak to him respectfully.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?” he scoffed. “Just send the invoice to All Might; he’ll take care of it. He always does.”

“We can’t just keep expecting him to cover the costs of you being irresponsible. And even if we could, it isn’t just about the money. It doesn’t look good. What if you get in trouble with the Hero Public Safety Commission? What if your hero ranking goes down, or worse- you get demoted entire-”

Bakugo’s jaw clenched as he slammed a fist on his desk to shut you up, your body jumping and your eyes widening consequently. He didn’t mean to startle you so much, but he did relish in the submissive way you looked at him as a result.

“Do I pay you to bitch at me about how I look to the public?” he challenged.

You blinked at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

“Pay me? You don’t pay me anything! I’m your sidekick, not your publicist.”

“Exactly,” he retorted. “So why don’t you quit acting like one, and leave it to the people who are supposed to handle it- like a good little sidekick.”

This particular comment had you fuming, and he could tell as you stood there with your arms crossed and a frown on your flushing face.

Cute, he thought, before dismissing the rumination.

“My quirk is explosion,” Bakugo continued. “Shit is going to get blown up. If you don’t like it, then maybe you should’ve applied to work under a different hero. There are plenty of sidekicks who would kill for the opportunity to be where you are right now.”

He was only bluffing. He’d never say it to you, or even himself, but Bakugo wouldn’t want you working with another hero; nor would he want to work with another sidekick. His hero office had plenty, and yet he chose you. He always chose you. Though, clearly you weren’t confident in his loyalty to you, because his words had tugged at your heartstrings more than he intended.

It wasn’t like you only cared about how he looked to the public. You cared about him in general, which was why you were so hard on him about things like this, but clearly he didn’t realize that.

“M-maybe I should’ve!” you snapped, desperately hoping that he hadn’t seen the glint of moisture in your eyes. “I would’ve taken Izuku up on his offer if I’d known you’d be so difficult to work with!”

Bakugo blinked at you, his head tilting to one side as he registered what you’d said. Midoriya had asked you to be his sidekick after graduating from UA, and several more times after that. You’d never mentioned this to Bakugo before, and you were smart not to. Anything that had to do with your green-haired friend triggered Bakugo to some extent; which was why saying that was the perfect ammunition to retaliate his comment- even if you didn’t realize it.

“What the hell do you mean you would’ve ‘taken Izuku up on his offer’!” he called after you, but you were already turning on your heels, storming out of his office and toward the elevator. You hated taking the elevator, and on any other day you would’ve taken the stairs; but at that moment you needed to get as far away from Katsuki Bakugo as fast as you could. You weren’t sure you’d be able to live with yourself if he saw you cry.

Over the pattering of your rushed footsteps, you hadn’t even heard him exit his office in pursuit of you. All you were focused on was getting out of there, and you were grateful that the elevator was already there on the fifth floor when you pushed the button to summon it. You wiped a stray tear from your eye as you stepped in, pressing the ‘1’ button, followed by the button used to close the doors; but they only managed to close halfway before a hand appeared between them, halting the process.

Before you knew it, an irate Bakugo was stalking into the elevator. He glowered at you as the doors shut behind him, though his expression eased when he noticed the tears that threatened to spill onto your cheeks.

“H-hey...why the hell are you crying?!” Bakugo stared at you incredulously, not believing the sight in front of him. He’d never seen you cry before.

You wiped furiously at your eyes, turning your back toward him as you did so. You made no effort to respond to him, especially once the elevator finally started moving. He frowned as you ignored him, glancing at the elevator’s digital display of what floor you were on. He watched anxiously as the numbers passed.

4...

3...

2...

 He couldn’t let you get to the first floor. He worried that if you left in this state, you might not come back. Or worse: you’d go running to Deku. He couldn’t have that.

Bakugo clenched his hand into a tight fist and before he could stop himself he was punching through the control panel of the elevator, ripping out some of the wires as he retracted his fist. The elevator immediately screeched to a halt, stopping just between the second and first floors. He turned to face you, who was now looking at him with sheer panic etched on your features. You were scared enough of elevators already, and this was like a nightmare come true.

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” you yelled as the ominous sparking of the control panel died down.

“Have you? What’s with all...this? Over an invoice?” he matched your tone, gesturing wildly at your distressed state.

You exhaled an exasperated sigh, shaking your head at him. “You don’t get it, do you? It isn’t just about the invoice.”

Bakugo took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down for your sake. He knew he could be difficult to talk to at times and he didn’t want to say anything that might scare you off. Though, it wasn’t like you could go anywhere anyways. “I don’t. Tell me so that I can fix it.”

You gave him a quizzical look, perplexed at the sudden decline in the volume of his voice. It almost made you want to give in and tell him what was on your mind but in fear of inciting another argument, you decided against it. Besides, you were now focused on the illusory feeling of the elevator walls closing in on you. You stood in the corner farthest from Bakugo, trying to increase the distance between you two. He noticed this and began to slowly creep toward you.

“Y/N.”

His firm tone coupled with his intense gaze had butterflies erupting in your stomach; of course now of all times.

“It doesn’t matter,” you uttered. “Could you please just get us out of here?”

“Is it what I said about you working with another hero?” he asked, completely ignoring your request but hitting the nail right on the head.

You didn’t answer him, instead crossing your arms and staring at the floor. Your body language was more than enough to confirm that he was correct, though, and he took one more step to close the gap between you. His close proximity had your head reeling as his scent enveloped you; it was almost comforting. You were so caught up in it that you hadn’t even noticed his hand cautiously reaching toward your face until he was already gripping your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

“Answer me.”

You let out a shaky breath as your eyes met his. Bakugo had never touched or looked at you like this before. Yes, he was frowning as usual; but it was out of concern instead of anger. The expression softened once you nodded, answering what he already knew. Still, his fingers never left your face.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he grumbled. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Do I?” you retorted, cursing yourself as your voice broke. “You think I don’t already know how expendable I am? How easy it’d be for you to replace me? You don’t have to throw it in my face.”

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“I’m sorry for always nagging. I’m sorry for caring. But if you don’t, someone has to, Bakugo,” you vented. “If we’re even close enough for me to call you that. Sometimes I feel like I should just address you as Ground Zero like everyone el-”

Bakugo’s grip on your chin tightened before he pressed his lips to yours, his other hand moving to the wall to support his weight as he leaned into you. You were far too stunned to kiss him back, but that was to be expected. The man in question had never even shook your hand before, let alone kissed you. He broke the kiss shortly thereafter, pressing his forehead against yours as his breath fanned over your lips.

“Don’t. Don’t ever stop calling me by my name,” he articulated, pulling away a little to gaze into your eyes and make sure you understood how serious he was. “You hear me? I’ll always be Bakugo to you. I don’t give a fuck what everyone else calls me. You’re not everyone else. I...just wanna hear you say my name.”

Your eyes began to tear up again, but this time out of relief. This was all you ever wanted from him: to act like he cared. To show you that he cared, and that you were more than just a sidekick to him.

You bit your quivering lip, nodding as you looked up at him. You meant to keep eye contact, but your gaze dropped to his lips. You desperately wanted him to kiss you again, and you weren’t doing the best job at hiding it.

Bakugo chuckled and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. He wanted to do much more, but not before making sure that he’d made things right with you. “I’m...sorry, okay?”

As simple as it was, his apology meant the world to you; especially since he wasn’t exactly known to be someone who ever apologized. It was actually quite humorous.

“You’re sorry?” you quizzed, stifling a laugh.

“Shut up, dumbass,” he retorted playfully before pressing his lips to yours again.

If someone told you just a few minutes before now that you’d be kissing Kastuki Bakugo, you’d have thought they were severely deluded. But you couldn’t deny how right it felt.

He caressed your cheek and lowered his other hand to your waist, clutching it softly. He was so delicate with you, touching you as though you’d break if he didn’t restrain himself. It was such a strange contrast to how he usually was, but you didn’t mind one bit.

“Bakugo,” you whimpered into his lips as you clutched his shirt, prompting him to slip his tongue into your mouth as a response.

He groaned lowly into the kiss as your tongues danced. You slipped your fingers underneath the material of his tank top, raking them along his soft abs and relishing in the warmth of his skin. He decided to match your pace, dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing it with much less caution than he’d touched you before.

His lips left yours, pecking them once more before attaching them to your neck. Your small moans were music to his ears as his tongue laved at your throat.

“I want you-” he groaned into your skin. “-need you.”

He hooked his fingers into the loops of your jeans, pulling your hips into his. And after feeling what pressed up against your thigh, it became very evident just how much he needed you.

“I’m yours, Bakugo. Please.” You sighed as he rolled his hips against you: so tantalizingly slow.

He kissed his way back up your neck, across your jaw and to your lips, kissing you once before gripping the hem of your top. He dragged the material up, your arms automatically raising to aid him in removing the garment. He was grateful that you’d forgone wearing your costume that day, knowing it’d be a pain in the ass to remove; though he’d worn his, save for the mask, gloves and grenades.

His rough hands slid up your torso and cupped your breasts through the material of your bra briefly before reaching around to unclasp it. He threw it to the ground before reaching for you again, calloused fingers tweaking your hardening nipples.

You grew exponentially wetter when he enclosed his lips around one, his fingers tugging at the other, and then alternating. He did this back and forth until you were a whining mess.

“Katsuki,” you mewled, subconsciously grinding your hips into his. “Please touch me.”

“Aren’t I?” he murmured into your chest, and you could feel his smirk. Though, he didn’t torture you for long, dropping his hand to the waist of your jeans and undoing them. He lowered himself onto his knees as he dragged them down your legs before throwing them atop the pile of discarded clothes. Your panties were torn off before joining the pile.

You squirmed as Bakugo’s eyes raked your naked body; his mind memorizing every inch in case this was the last time you’d ever let him see you like this (though he was confident it wouldn’t be). He traced his fingers up the length of your leg before gripping your thigh and lifting it to hook your leg over his shoulder.

“So pretty,” he breathed as he looked up at you, eyes lowering to meet your dripping core. “Even down here.”

Your mouth fell open as he flattened his tongue against your core, groaning as he tasted you. You whimpered as he licked you slowly, stopping to kiss your folds every so often before increasing his pace, devouring you like his life depended on it. You entangled your fingers in his hair, alternating between pulling at his roots and rubbing circles into his scalp.

He’d grunt every time you tugged particularly hard, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel heavenly against your clit.

“Bakugo~” you moaned out once he sucked harshly, sensing that you were already almost there. “Ngh- feels so good. So close...”

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my mouth, princess?” He pushed his tongue into your cunt, burying his face between your thighs as he pressed his thumb against your clit and rubbed circles into the swollen bud.

“Oh my god, yes,” you squeaked, fingernails scratching at his scalp as you neared you’re release. “Coming!”

Bakugo growled into your pussy as you came, the vibrations from his mouth intensifying the sensation tenfold. He watched in awe and adoration while you writhed above him, licking you clean. Once you came down, he rose to his feet, kissing you to allow you to taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

He pulled away to hastily undo his harnesses, pulling off his shirt in the process. You eyed him hungrily as he stripped. Your mouth practically watered at the sight in front of you. You waited until he reached for the button of his pants, catching his wrist in yours to stop him before sinking to your knees. He panted as you groped him over the fabric, rolling his erection into your palm.

“Off,” he groaned, his hand coming down to rest atop your head. “Take them off.”

You obliged, popping open the button and dragging his pants down to around his thighs. You looked up at him as you pressed your tongue against his shaft over his boxers, causing him tug at your roots.

“D-don’t tease me, dumbass.”

You bit your lip as you hooked your fingers into the band, pulling his underwear down slowly. Your heart rate quickened as you revealed his length, inch by inch as you pulled them down his thighs. He was big; so girthy, and the precum that leaked out of the tip only made him look that much more appetizing.

He hissed as you took him in your hand, pumping his length slowly before licking the head of his cock. You lapped up his arousal before taking him in your mouth and sucking as your tongue swirled around the tip. You quickly grew eager for more, taking him fully into your mouth until you were sputtering around him.

“Shit,” he swore, petting your head. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

Bakugo’s words encouraged you and you began to bob your head up and down his cock, humming around it. He gathered your hair into his fist, pulling it as you deepthroated him.

“Ngh, so good. So fucking good,” he moaned, thrusting into your mouth.

As good as it felt, if there was one place Bakugo wanted to cum more than your mouth: it was inside you. Therefore, as he felt himself nearing his release, he reluctantly pulled out of your mouth, groaning at the sight of the saliva that connected your lips to his cock.

“I need to fuck you now,” he informed you as he pulled you up by your shoulders. “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

You did as he said, turning to press your hands and face against the wall of the elevator. You chewed your lip in anticipation as you heard him stroke his wet cock behind you before pressing the tip against your folds.

“Katsuki,” you moaned, pushing back against him in a desperate attempt to feel him inside of you. “Please.”

“Please what, princess? What do you want?”

Whimpering as he ground the head of his cock into your clit, you responded. “I want you to- ahh~, fuck me. Please Bakugo.”

You must’ve appeased him, both of his hands coming up to grip your ass and he slowly pushed into you. His name fell from your lips in a long, drawn out moan as he filled you. He stilled once he was entirely in, relishing in the feeling of your warm cunt contracting around him. He could probably cum from that alone.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he commented, pulling out halfway before pushing into you again. He did this over and over until you’d stretched enough to his liking, beginning a steady rhythm as he thrust into you. The elevator filled with the sound of his skin slapping against yours, drowning out your moans. His fingers dug into your hips as he increased his pace, slamming into you as he fucked you.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah,” he moaned out, and you had to grab hold of the elevator railing to steady yourself as he pounded you. “Look at you taking my cock so fucking well. You’re such a good girl.”

Your heart fluttered at his praise, crying out his name as he angled his cock to brush against your g-spot with every thrust. He thrust into you like that just a few times before pulling out of you.

You were about to protest but he spun you around to face him, guiding your arms around his neck and picking you up by the backs of your thighs. He pushed your back against the wall to support you in the new position.

“Wanna see your pretty face when you cum,” he mumbled through clenched teeth, slipping back inside you.

“B-Bakugo,” you whined, finding it difficult to speak with how he was slamming into you. “So close.”

He reached a hand down between you two, rubbing furiously at your clit. “Cum for me, princess. Cum around my cock. Fuck.”

You threw your head back in sheer pleasure as your stomach tightened, digging your nails into his back as you reached your climax. You clenched around him, your pussy getting impossibly tighter as you came around his cock.

Bakugo’s thrusts grew sloppier but quicker, exerting the last of his energy as he finished inside you. Thick ropes of his warm cum painted your insides, filling you up along with his cock. He groaned out your name as he let out the last of it, burying his head in your shoulder as he caught his breath.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments before he pulled out of you and let you down slowly. His cum leaked uncomfortably down your thigh, and suddenly he regretted ruining your panties, wishing he had them to help keep his cum inside of you.

You were caught by surprise when Bakugo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he embraced you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to you once again. “I need you, and...I don’t wanna do this hero shit if I can’t do it with you.”

 “Me neither,” you assured him, softly kissing his shoulder.

*

“Bakugo?”

“Yeah?”

“How are we getting out of here?” you inquired, remembering that you and him had been the only people in the office on that Sunday night.

“Shit.”

~