#feels bad? yes that's totally there. takes literally ANY step EVER to cut it out? no SIR! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whoree321 · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, I believe your requests are open, so, could you please write smth were reader and Tech are friends with benefits?

Also, I’m in the same dilemma as you, cause everyone already forgot tbb and I’m still obsessed??? Like, were is everybody excitement about the show, it was gone so fast…

Anyway, thank ya <3

hello friend! this is a delicious request and i am more than happy to oblige! i’m not sure if you wanted like pure angst or like sexy successful fwb but above all else i am a dirty dirty slut for happy endings so i went light angst, heavy fluff, mild smut to get a little of everything lmaooooo. this also got a little out of control and i’m not sorry.

and literally i am suffering so much in this ever increasing drought of bad batch excitement. like i feel like the person at a party when everyone else is tired and wants to leave who’s still just way too hyped and is like “NO WAIT GUYS LETS HAVE MORE SHOTS AND PLAY TRUTH OR DARE COME ON ITLL BE FUN”. i am in absolute agony. but anyways!

a mutually beneficial arrangement (tech x gn!reader)

it was purely sex. just two friends helping each other relieve some stress occasionally. just two friends who happened to have sex with each other. until it wasn’t.

warnings: fwb, mild smut, reader is gender/genital neutral but they are penetrated by tech (amab)

word count: no idea but it’s pretty long

***

In hindsight, it really shouldn’t have shocked you that this was how things played out.

It’s not like you’d ever been friends with benefits with someone before. It’s not like you didn’t know how easily you could develop feelings for people. It’s not like you didn’t know you were maybe just a little too interested in Tech non-platonically before any of this even started.

No, you knew all of those things going into it. You made the conscious decision to be the biggest dumbass in the galaxy.

When Tech had first suggested a friends with benefits situation, it seemed like a much better idea than it actually was. You had been assigned to Clone Force 99 for a few weeks at that point and had already developed fast friendships with all of them (Crosshair even sometimes acknowledged your presence with neutrality and that definitely felt like at least an acquaintanceship). You were closest with Tech, and one tipsy night at 79’s found the two of you making out in a hallway near the bathroom. You could still remember the way his mouth tasted like whiskey as he pressed you up against the wall

He paused his assault on your lips to look at you, breath fanning lightly across your face. You whined at the loss of contact, not noticing in your haze the intensity in his eyes as he studied you, as though if he took in enough of you he would have the answer to an imposssible question. He migrated lower, planting kisses and sucking lightly on your neck until he made his way to your ear.

“Have you ever heard of people being platonic sexual partners?”, he asked low in your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath and the deeper tone to his voice before you answered.

“You mean like friends with benefits?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” Tech clarified as he moved to once again nibble on the sweet spots of your neck. Had you had a little more sense, you would have warned him not to leave any noticeable marks, lest you suffer the teasing of the rest of the boys.

“I’ve heard of it, I’ve never done it before though. Why?”

“Well, given our current circumstance,” his response was punctuated by his ministrations on your pressure points, “it may be mutually beneficial for us to enter into that type of arrangement.”

You stopped him for a moment, and lifted his face so that you could make eye contact. Tech stood up a little straighter, hands running up and down your sides lightly as he gazed down at you.

“You think that we should be friends with benefits?”

Tech nodded, one hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

“I believe it would be an advantageous relationship. We could have relations while still maintaining our successful platonicity, thus eliminating the need to alter the dynamic of the squad with the complications of some trivial romance. It would also be physically beneficial. Sexual intercourse has been shown to successfully alleviate stress, as well as…”

He kept going, explaining the health benefits of sex, but it was hard to pay attention to his rambling while you tried to clear your head of the alcohol and the intoxication of his touch and figure out where you stood on his proposition. In that moment, everything he said made total sense. Granted, that part about “trivial romance” stung a little, but you could still fuck him without ruining the squad or your friendship with him, and Maker did you want to fuck him…

Uncharacteristically cutting off his rant, you responded. “I accept your offer. I would love to be friends with benefits with you.”

Tech grinned, a lust forming in his eyes at the new promise of the benefits the night was leading to.

“Splendid”

From that (mind-blowing) night, sex became a very regular thing. A mission went poorly? Frustrated sex. A mission went well? Celebratory sex. The Batch got leave time? Vacation sex. The Batch hadn’t gotten leave time in too long? Cabin fever sex. It really had started out pretty platonically, but after the first few times you could feel yourself falling head over heels for him. You knew you should stop it, Tech would never hold it against you or be upset if you changed your mind. You told yourself again and again that you would just break it off with him, but then his hands and his lips and his body would be on you, and the hungry way he looked at you would knock the air, and any ideas of making him stop, out of you.

In your defense, it wasn’t like you were the one who had suggested it. Tech had to know the likelihood that your “platonic sexual relationship” would only stay platonic for so long. Actually, you were surprised he hadn’t done a little more analysis of the situation. If he had taken into account all of the factors (the rate of failure in friends with benefits situations, each of your levels of emotionality and past relationships, the effects of living and working in close quarters, etc), you can’t imagine he would have thought it was a smart idea. If Tech had crunched the numbers like he normally would, it wouldn’t have produced favorable results. So for him to want to do it anyway, or to not even analyze it beforehand, must mean he had some sort of feelings for you, right?

This was one of the various problem in your current situation. Tech would always do things that were just on the line between “friends” and “more than friends”. He would go out of his way to do little things for you, he would share info and jokes and side comments with you that he never tried to share with brothers, he would blush when you complimented any of his work, he would stand just a little too close to you or let his touch linger just a little too long. He would suggest a sexual relationship that was highly statistically improbable to be successful.

And while Tech offered nothing but mixed signals, you took it a step further and let those mixed signals fester in your brain until you had warped them into one very clear signal: he liked you as more than a friend. You were so sure of it too. Why would he do all of those things if he didn’t like you like that? It’s not even like he treated you like some one night stand when he fucked you. He cared about making you feel good (usually it seemed like he cared more about you getting off than him), he would clean you up after and you always stayed the night together, cuddled and whispering late into the night about nothing and everything.

There was nothing friendly about your intimate nights together, come to think of it. Friends that just fucked would never treat each other so tenderly or lovingly. It’s not that completely unbelievable to think you would accidentally blurt out that you love him. Tech should have expected that.

But it was out there, unfortunately. You had committed the cardinal sin of being friends with benefits and you couldn’t take it back.

Tech’s brutal pace never faltered as he pumped in and out of you, your moans growing louder and louder as you began to approach your peak. He gazed down at you, locking eyes, and the emotion you could feel behind them was overwhelming. You could tell that he was close, with all the experience you had with him you knew his body better than your own, and he brought his hand up to softly caress your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he huffed out, brow furrowing as the rhythmic slamming of his hips against you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

At his words, you reached your climax, and as you came undone words of ecstasy slipped from your lips between wails of pleasure.

“Kriff Tech… ah…. Tech..fuck…I love you”

You didn’t even realize it at first, too caught up in the moment, but Tech did. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and he was finishing inside you before either of you could fully process what you had just said.

As you both came down from your high, the gravity of your admission settled between you. Tech pulled out and flopped down next to you wordlessly, and for a few minutes you both just stared at the ceiling in torturous silence. And then he got up and walked to the refresher, not even looking at you once, and you felt like that was all the confirmation you needed that you woefully misinterpreted your entire relationship with him.

You lept out of his bunk, threw your clothes on, and left as silently as possible, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. At least you could spare yourself the embarrassment of your words in that moment, and both of you could just forget it and move on.

Of course, you knew that pretending it didn’t happen would be impossible. You told him you loved him, and he said nothing. For several minutes. And then hid in the fresher. That was a clear rejection, and while it devastated you, you were still hoping that the two of you could just move on and be friends like you were before the benefits were added.

Apparently to Tech, you had offended him beyond repair. He never spoke to you (unless it was specifically mission oriented), he rarely looked at you or acknowledged your presence, and he positioned himself as far from you as possible at every opportunity. It had been two weeks since your slip up, and he hadn’t even made eye contact with you once.

It was agony. You missed him. You didn’t even really know what it was like to be on this squad without keeping him company while he made repairs or asking him questions about the next place you were going just to hear him talk. You missed making snide jokes with him. You missed admiring the way his goggles magnified his gorgeous caramel eyes.

The other boys noticed the shift very quickly. They had suspected the two of you had some sort of arrangement, and they knew how close you were, so to see it change so abruptly was concerning. Hunter had tried talking to you about it a few times, but you just reassured him that everything was fine and it was nothing he needed to worry about. Wrecker and Crosshair tried to pick up the slack, and started filling in the holes in your routine that Tech used to occupy. Crosshair would sit next to you in the mornings and during briefings, sometimes trying to make little comments in your ear like Tech would. On missions, Wrecker would always aim to pair up with you, and afterwards would try to do something fun like find a sweet treat or rent a good movie.

You appreciated so much what they did for you. But no matter how hard they tried, nothing could take your mind off the wall of ice Tech had built between you. You loved the other boys, but trying to share happy moments with them when all you could think about was how much better it would be with him was becoming unbearable. You didn’t want to leave them, but you couldn’t stay with Tech being so close to you and yet lightyears away.

As you filled out your transfer paperwork, you chuckled wryly to yourself. Even without the “trivial romance”, the squad was still disrupted. In a bittersweet way, it felt good for Tech to be wrong.

***

Tech had really done his best to analyze the evidence and make an informed decision based on his findings. He had been crunching his numbers with you since the day you joined the Batch, after all. Back then, it was the probability of your attraction to each of them. Tech was fascinated with you, and right off the bat he wanted to know his odds- just out of curiosity of course (for the record, they were pretty highly in his favor).

He knew there were pros and cons to the possibility of a relationship with you. First of all, it was technically against regulation for any clone to be involved in a romantic relationship. Second of all, it was likely that such a relationship would have the potential to cause countless rifts and points of weakness among his squad (regardless of the relationship’s success). Then there was also the very possible chance that the relationship wouldn’t work out anyway, leaving both of you hurt and irreparably damaging your friendship. As much as Tech may have wanted you, the costs unfortunately outweighed the benefits.

But then he kissed you at 79’s. And you kissed him back. And there he was, kissing you at 79’s, memorizing the sweetness of your lips on his. And he knew he should stop. He had studied the data and it’s conclusions were not very good, and if he had any sense at all he would stop. But he pulled away and looked at you, took in the flush on your cheeks and the dazed look accompanying your dilated pupils and the swell of your bruised lips. And he couldn’t bring himself to part ways with you. So he offered the closest thing to a relationship he could think of: friends with benefits.

A friends with benefits arrangement would be a more than adequate solution, Tech had decided. He could be physical with you in the proper moments, and then outside of those moments everything would be just as it was before. The squad’s dynamic and mission proficiency would remain consistent, and technically no regulations were being broken since they only specified romantic relationships. Of course, it wasn’t truly what he wanted, but in this arrangement he would get to enjoy you so much more than he currently was.

Unfortunately, he had made a critical oversight. In the dim haze of the club hallway, Tech had only considered how casual sex would compare to a full blown relationship. He didn’t think to analyze it singularly. And he certainly didn’t calculate the logistics of a friends with benefits agreement when one of the friends in question already had romantic feelings for the other friend.

But Tech knew himself. He knew he could have feelings for you and not let them get in the way. He could accept what he was able to have and make peace with what he couldn’t. Casual sex seemed like a good idea when his emotions were the only ones he took into account.

He wasn’t expecting you to fall in love with him.

When you had said it, Tech thought his heart was going to stop right then and there. In the heat of the moment, he couldn’t have imagined more precious words falling from your lips, and instantly it had him spiraling over the edge into ecstasy. But then the moment ended, and you didn’t say anything. He wanted to end the silence, to find out if you really meant it, but his brain was moving too fast to figure out what to say because he really hadn’t considered this would happen. It was naive of him, he supposed, but he really had thought the two of you could have done it without the emotional complications. Part of him, of course, was thrilled, but the other part of him, the logical part, was thrown into absolute chaos at the implications of your statement and what it would mean and all the statistics and probabilities he had calculated and

And you still hadn’t said anything. Tech could see you out of the corner of his eye, face red and chest heaving with emotion. You looked embarassed, regretful, and the realization that maybe you didn’t mean it hit him like a brick to the face. Maybe it was just something that slipped out, something your orgasm-addled mind had conjured up against your will and now you didn’t know how to take it back, didn’t know the right way to tell him you don’t actually love him.

It was too much for him to process at once, and he ran to the refresher in the hopes that he could clear his head and actually think coherently about the situation for a moment. Tech couldn’t have been in there long, maybe a few minutes, just long enough to splash some water on his face, look himself in the eye, and come to the conclusion that he needed to just have a conversation with you instead of playing with hypothetical numbers in his head. But then he came back out and you were gone, and that seemed like all the answer he needed. You didn’t mean it.

That was good, right? You didn’t mean it, and the two of you could keep going the way you had been.

But the ache in Tech’s heart said otherwise. You didn’t love him. He loved you, he knew he did, and he could be ok with pretending he didn’t when he didn’t know how you felt. But he knew now. And it hurt.

It hurt everytime he talked to you, so he stopped talking to you. It hurt everytime he was near you, so he stopped being near you. It hurt everytime he looked at you, so he stopped looking. The squad’s performance hadn’t been altered, so Tech concluded that the awkwardness could be tolerated until your presence didn’t feel so much like a blaster shot to his chest.

But just like pretty much every other choice Tech had made in regards to you, that plan only worked until it backfired horrifically.

***

The Batch were back on Kamino in between missions. Tech had been vaguely aware of Hunter being called in to a meeting of some sort, but he offered his full attention as Hunter stormed back into their room and huffed his way to Tech’s workbench.

“I don’t know what you did, but you need to fix things with Y/N. Now”

At the mention of your name, Tech pretended to return to his work, fiddling with a tool and avoiding eye contact.

“I do not know what you are referring-“

“Like hell you don’t Tech! The two of you haven’t even looked at each other in weeks and now they’ve put in a request to be transferred to another unit, so don’t tell me there’s nothing going on between you.”

Tech shot up, tools abandoned and stool knocked over with the force of his standing.

“They requested a transfer?”

“Yeah, they did. Now, I don’t know what happened, but I know your little silent treatment has been hurting them a lot. I don’t want to see them go, and you don’t either. So go talk to them and fix it, or I’ll have you transferred instead,” Hunter ordered, finger pointed at Tech’s chest. The threat was empty, of course, but it had fallen on deaf ears regardless.

Tech all but sprinted out into the hall, desperate to change your mind before you left them for good. As much as it pained him to be near you, the thought of being without you was somehow so much worse. He reached your quarters and unceremoniously burst in, barely giving the doors enough time to slide open before he was moving past them.

You jumped at his sudden entrance, hand coming up to clutch your chest.

“Maker, Tech you scared me!”

“Please don’t leave”

You stared at him, taking in his appearance for the first time. His chest was heaving, like he’d just run a marathon, and his eyes were frantic and impossibly wide behind his goggles. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so disheveled, even when you’d slept with him.

You wanted to look away, but you were conscious of the fact that this was the first time you had made eye contact in Maker knows how long and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Tech, I-I can’t stay with the way things are. I’m sorry about what I said, I know it was just supposed to be a friend thing and I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you. I really tried not to, but I did and I ruined everything and you can’t even look at me anymore so how can I-“

Tech took step closer, cutting off your rambling as his brow furrowed.

“You fell in love with me?”

He spoke so quietly, it was barely above a whisper. You nodded, confused at his surprised considering the whole issue was that you told him you loved him and he didn’t feel the same. That was the issue, right?

You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he tried to process what was happening.

“I thought… I thought you didn’t mean it”

Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Why would you think that?”

“Y-you didn’t say anything. You confessed your affections for me while in a compromised state and didn’t say anything else afterwards. Your body language indicated regret and-and you left. I concluded that you said it by accident, and did not actually mean it,” he explained as calmly as he could in his rattled state.

“I left because I told you I loved you and you locked yourself in the fresher! And then you wouldn’t talk to me so I figured you were mad at me because I have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same way!”

Tech’s face broke out in a huge grin, and just as you were about to ask him why he was so happy all of a sudden, he rushed forward and passionately slotted his lips against yours. You gasped into him before immediately reciprocating the kiss, and you tangled your hands in his hair as his fingers desperately clutched your hips. Of all the kisses you had shared with him, none had felt the way this one did. There was an emotion pouring into it, one that had always been on the verge of spilling over but never had before. Eventually you broke apart, and you cursed your lungs for needing air.

He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, and broke the silence after a few moments.

“I love you, too. I have for a significant amount of time. When you left that night, I incorrectly assumed you did not share my affections. I avoided you after because I… I was hurt. I apologize for misinterpreting your actions, and for allowing you to think that I was upset with you. I assure you, that could not be further from reality.”

You laughed giddily, bumping his nose with yours as you relished in his confession.

“If you loved me, why did you just want to be friends with benefits?”

Tech blushed and look down, a sheepish look overtaking his features.

“Well, I performed a cost-benefit analysis on engaging in a romantic relationship, and the potential complications were too great. A platonic sexual partnership offered a less risky alternative. Although, I must admit that I failed to properly calculate the possible outcomes of such an agreement between two individuals in our specific situation,” he elaborated.

“We might be the two dumbest people in the galaxy,” you joked with a giggle.

“Technically, it is statistically impossible for that to be true, given-“

You cut him off with another deep kiss, your hands coming to rest on his arms as they kept you in his iron-clad grip. He had never loosened his hold, as though he thought if he let you go, you would disappear.

Abruptly, the kiss ended as Tech pulled back slightly to look at you.

“Does this mean you are no longer transferring out of our squad?”

You grinned.

“That depends. Does this mean we can have a real relationship, not just sex?”

Tech brought one hand to rest on his jaw as he looked upwards and pretended to be deep in thought.

“Well, according to my calculations, we have already experienced nearly all of the possible complications of pursuing a romantic relationship, so I have no objection to enjoying some of the benefits,” he concluded with a playful smile.

You leaned up to kiss him again, pausing just before your lips made contact with his to make a sly comment.

“And we know how good we are at some of those benefits already”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #tech tbb #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #tech x y/n #tech x you #the bad batch x reader

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kiridarling · 4 years ago

Text

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | birthday gone wrong (aha), f!reader, baker!reader, pro hero!katsuki, blizzards, angst and smut, exhibitionism, cockwarming, begging, confessions. minors dni!

— 4.7k words

Wanna blow off some steam?

“Surprise!”

Katsuki jumps ten feet high, and the plastic grocery bags precariously balanced on each finger tear without a second thought. Apples hit the ground with a thud and the egg carton with a depressing slap; one that signifies the crack of at least half a dozen. Katsuki looks at the crowd, red-faced and livid, and Eijirou Kirishima intercepts the awkward silence with:

“Happy Birthday Bakubro! I know y—“

“Said that I didn’t want a fuckin’ party?” Katsuki growls, groceries forgotten on the forgotten. Eijirou looks guilty and chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“W-Well, yeah, but—“

“Everybody out.”

People sigh, and you think you hear Denki whisper told you he’d kick us out. You hate to say that you foresaw a similar outcome. Katsuki’s never been one for people.

Especially you.

“Awe come on, Kacchan,” Izuku says with hands on his hips. “We came all this way! Just let us stay for a little bit.”

“Yeah!” Eijirou seems to cheer up once given a sliver of hope. “Plus, we got cake and stuff. And Just Dance.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, but you know better—he’s always had a soft spot for the redhead. You all wait with baited breath, wondering if this entire evening was a bust, as Katsuki weighs his options in a pool of fallen groceries.

“One hour.”

Eijirou gasps so hard he chokes, and Katsuki’s generosity earns him applause from the audience. (Plus whoops and hollers from Denki and Mina.)

“And I mean it—y’all have sixty fuckin’ minutes before you’re gone without a goddamn trace. Kapeesh?”

“Kapeesh!”

Katsuki sighs, rubbing at his temples as he steps over the mess at the front door. You assume he’ll make Eijirou clean it up. “Whatever. Where’s the fuckin’ cake?”

Ah.

“In the kitchen, my good sir!” Denki says as he ushers the ash-blond into the said kitchen, the rest of the party hot on their heels. Eijirou grabs the cake from the fridge and you’re tense until the plate hits the marble of their island.

“Flavor?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I dunno, [Y/N] made it,” Eijirou throws you under the bus, just like that, and you want to scoff at the way Katsuki freezes—if only for a moment. Eijirou’s oblivious as ever, “[Y/N]?”

“It’s red velvet,” you say, trying not to burn under Katsuki’s carmine eyes. You don’t know why he doesn’t look away.

“Frosting?”

“Buttercream.”

As if you’d give him anything else.

Eijirou tries his best to cram 26 candles into the cake before being forced to opt for 23 lest he ruin your decorations. Denki presses him to make a wish and Katsuki rolls his eyes as he blows out the candles. Eijirou wipes an invisible tear because ‘his boy is getting so old.’ Mina and Jiro cut the cake and people seem to enjoy it, and you think that maybe, reuniting with your high school friends after so long isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.

Even if he said he never wanted to see you again.

“—due to the incoming blizzard, we highly suggest all those who reside in the red and orange zones stay inside until it passes; which should be around ten am tomorrow morning.”

You spoke too soon.

Katsuki turns to the crowd, and you know what he’s going to say before his lip curls.

“Out.”

“Kacchan, don’t be unreasonable!” Izuku says from his comfortable position on the couch. “We’d get caught in the storm if we leave now.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ fast enough,” Katsuki growls, pulling the greenette’s to his feet by his hair. “Get out, I’m not bunking with you fuckers overnight.”

“Dude,” Denki points to the window, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought the blizzard had already started. “If we leave now, we’ll literally die.”

“Die, then.”

Eijirou sighs, clapping his roommate on the back. “C’mon, man. You know we ca—“

There’s a whirr then a click, and the lights and tv die at once. You can’t see a thing but you definitely hear Katsuki shout:

“Motherfucker!”

Eijirou turns his phone flashlight on first; Katsuki’s busy angrily flicking at the light to no avail. You sigh, turning to the ash-blond (and ignoring those ugly fucking butterflies in your stomach.)

“It’s a blackout Katsuki. The lights aren’t going to work.”

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that, dumbass?” And your chest tightens because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he sounds the same—but you aren’t sure why you expected him to sound so different either.

You lift an eyebrow (not that he can see it), “It doesn’t look like you do.”

Denki snorts at that, hollering about how you just owned the ash-blond as Katsuki yells at him to shut the fuck up. It’s...familiar and comfortable, like you’re all in high school again, before you had to worry about your friends dying in their line of work because you couldn’t be there with them.

Before you got injured.

“Well I mean, we have a few blankets,” Eijirou offers, and as your eyes slowly adjust to the dark, you’re convinced you see his figure cross the living room. “And like, sweatshirts if it gets too cold.”

“It’s already getting too cold,” Mina says, and you can’t help but agree. The quickly cooling room has the goosebumps raising on your shoulders, and you’re starting to regret forgetting your jacket at home.

“Okay! I don’t have that many, but,” Eijirou hollers from somewhere, before returning with a handful of cloth. He drops it onto the coffee table. “Plus Hanta and Denks left their hoodies here last time.”

“Oh shit, we did?” Hanta says, and you assume it’s his figure who starts digging through the clothes. “Totally thought I lost this, lol.”

“Did you just saw lol out loud?”

“I did.”

“Ooh Ei, do you still have that old Red Riot hoodie?” Mina asks, and all of a sudden, she’s all over the pile. She finds it before the redhead can answer and snatches it away with a gasp.

You watch the pile dissolve in the darkness, one by one, and by the time you reach for something, your palm hits the cool wood of the coffee table. Fuck.

“Oh [Y/N]! Do you need some of my blanket?” Mina offers, but the blanket is small, and wrapping it around both of your shoulders just renders it utterly useless. You shake your head after she tries for a while.

“It’s fine Mina, I’m not that cold,” you laugh, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! Girl c’mon, you look like you’re freezing!”

And, well. Freezing is a stretch. Sure, you’re a little cold, but you’ll live.

“Do you need my sweatshirt?” Eijirou asks, already pulling at the hem. You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious guys, it’s not that bad,” you say, waving your arms for emphasis. They all grumble but they give up, and you feel like you can finally relax.

Something soft and army green drops into your lap. You pick it up in confusion, before looking up to see who dropped it.

Katsuki looks down at you, face glowing white from the phone flashlights. His eyes pierce your soul nevertheless.

“I don’t ne—“

“Take it.”

Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the couch in his own hoodie. You don’t realize until you put it on that he gave you a sweatshirt themed after his own hero costume.

You can’t sleep.

You can’t sleep, and you’re sure it’s due to the temperature. The wind howls and it sounds like you’re in the eye of a tornado, loose branches knocking against the rattling glass, and upon looking through the window, you see nothing but stark white. You sigh, checking the time on your phone for the fiftieth time this hour. Yep. Still four am.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, dumbass.”

You all decided to bunk in the living room for warmth. You’re surprised Katsuki stayed, though; you figured he would just head to his room and let you all fend for yourselves while he slept in a comfortable bed. But here he is, sleeping next to you on the cold fucking floor.

“Sorry,” you say, but it’s hard when your shivering and your jaw aches from stunting your chattering teeth. Katsuki and Eijirou only had a limited amount of sleeping bags, meaning you’ve got to share a blanket with the hulking ash-blond.

“You cold?” He grunts. You don’t know why he’s asking.

“No.”

Katsuki sighs, and you hear him adjust, the blanket sliding from your neck to your shoulder. “You’re a shit liar.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to glare his way, and you look to notice Katsuki’s laying the same way.

“What’s your point?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s looking for an answer, either—his neon red eyes glow through the dark and straight into your soul, and the next time you shiver, it isn’t because of the temperature.

“You’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Thought you figured that out senior year.”

Katsuki’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint before it’s gone again. “Yeah. You’d think almost dying would fuckin’ fix that.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re having this conversation now, then.

“I didn’t almost die—“

“Yes, you fuckin’ did,” Katsuki snarls, and Denki almost stirs at his raised tone. “You took that bullet and you didn’t get up for months—“

“And then I woke up and everything was fine! Seriously Katsuki, what’s your problem? I lived.”

“My problem is that you shouldn’t have been there in the goddamn first place!” Katsuki says through grit teeth. You watch his temple roll underneath his hairline. “That was my fuckin’ fight. I don’t need some chick jumping in front of a bullet for me just ‘cause she thinks I can’t take it!”

You scoff, looking around to see if any of your other sleeping friends are listening because get a load of this guy. Naturally, they don’t respond.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, well I’m sorry I bruised your dignity because I didn’t want to see you get fucking shot!”

Katsuki chest inflates with disbelief before it deflates again, and he’s rolling his eyes before he says, “That’s not—you fuckin’ know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?” You laugh, and goddammit Katsuki, you just had to bring it up, didn’t you? “Because waking up after two months to your best friend telling you to give up doesn’t preserve your dignity at all, huh?”

“I didn’t tell you to fu—“

“You said those exact words, Katsuki. You said give up, and you left the hospital.”

The ash-blond has nothing to say to that, because he knows that you know you’re right, and trying to jedi mind trick you into believing he isn’t an asshole won’t work.

“Well you fuckin’ listened,” he grumbles, more to himself than you, but enough emotion flares in your core to make you want to scream.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, huffing, before turning your back to him, deeming this conversation over. “Good night, Katsuki.”

There’s a lull and it has you convinced you’ve won, finally relaxing (as much as you can) onto the cold floor. At least arguing heated your blood up a bit.

“The fuck do you mean?”

You roll your eyes even though they’re closed before you hop back onto your forearms to give the ash-blond a nasty look. “What?”

“You...said you didn’t have a choice,” Katsuki says, and it’s the first time you think you’ve heard him sound weary. Unsure. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I had to give up on being a hero either way.”

Which sucked. Because you had spent the past four years of your life working your ass off to save others, and you wind up out of commission before you even got started. You...suppose you didn’t tell Katsuki the whole story. Well, you hadn’t had a chance to—today’s the first time speaking with him since you woke up in the hospital.

Katsuki eyes you out of his peripheral, but only for a second. “And that means...?”

“It means that if I land on my spine the wrong way, there’s a high chance I’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.” You growl, frustrated that it was easier to coax the truth out of you than you thought.

The bullet buried close to your spinal column. You had to do PT for months, relearning how to walk as you slowly regain your motor functions. That’s when you started to bake.

“Oh.”

The howling of the wind turns from somewhat soothing to aggravating as Katsuki’s unimpressive “oh” hangs heavy in the air, and you find yourself sighing, the puzzle pieces finally clicking in your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Katsuki asks—he’s still not looking at you.

“Blaming yourself,” you gesture to his figure, which is lax with depression, lacking its sturdiness and usual fire. “You didn’t shoot the gun.”

Katsuki snorts at that, running a hand through his hair, “I might as well.”

“Stop.”

“You got shot because of me,” Katsuki says as if it were a fact. “They were trying to kill me. Not you.”

“And they didn’t kill me. I’m here and you’re here. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be six feet under right now,” you reason. Katsuki shrugs because he’s just as stubborn as you are, and you figure he’s been carrying around this baggage for too many years.

“Does your back hurt often?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean sure, I get flare-ups sometimes, but it’s not too bad. Doesn’t really get in the way of baking as long as the table is high enough.”

Katsuki thinks for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Is the table high enough? At your café.”

You shrug, failing to see where he’s going with this. “I have a platform thingy, so. It’s mostly for decorating cakes and things—“

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What?”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” Katsuki says, nodding to himself as if he was confirming the idea. “A higher one.”

It takes a second for his offer to process, but once it does, you’re fighting a smile. Still the same kid. “Kats, I don’t nee—“

“An—And if you need a new chair. I’ll pay for that shit too.”

You shake your head—mainly in disbelief, “I don’t need a chair, Katsuki.”

“Then what?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate with the speed he rushed the sentence, “Y’need a car? That hunk of junk you drive could use some work.”

You ignore the jab, because your car works perfectly fine thank you very much, and snort at the suggestion of such an outrageous purchase.

“What? You tryna be my sugar daddy or something?” You joke. Katsuki gives you a look, and it's dead serious.

“D’ya need one?”

“I—no!” You laugh, and have to remind yourself to reel it in before you actually wake Denki up. “I’m fine financially I just—what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’.” Katsuki quickly grumbles, facing forwards again. “I just...”

You raise an eyebrow, “You just..?”

“I dunno. I dunno,” Katsuki shakes his head. You let him gather his thoughts in silence before he tries again. He doesn’t.

“Then fuck me.”

In your defense, your mouth moved before you thought it through.

Katsuki has an unreadable look on his face, but his voice is anything but steady when he says, “What?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“U-Uh, I mean,” you recoil. Stupid big mouth. “I—you—don’t worry about it.”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” Katsuki deadpans. You choke.

“I—no, that’s not—“

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No, I meant as in I’m pent up. Obviously,” you defend with a huff, crossing your arms on the pillow as you glare daggers his way. Katsuki matches your stare.

“Not as pent up as a Pro Hero,” he scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. You take it as a challenge.

You click your tongue in faux pity, “Awe, the number two hero Dynamight doesn’t get laid?”

“No fuckin’ time,” he grunts, though you don’t find much remorse in his voice.

“Well, you have time now,” you say, completely unsure of where this confidence is coming from. Either way, you’ll take it and run.

“I do,” Katsuki confirms, leaning in closer. He’s close enough that you can smell what’s leftover of his cologne, and see the hint of a grin that makes his upper cheek shine silver in the moonlight. You find yourself leaning in just as much as he does.

“Wanna blow off some steam?” You dare to question. Katsuki’s grin only grows wider.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Katsuki’s kisses are surprisingly soft, you think, and so are his lips. But you don’t have much time to think about it as he pulls you in by the waist, quietly groaning into your mouth while he lays you down on your back.

“Always thought you were the prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he growls, trailing butterfly kisses down your neck. “‘M gonna make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

A hand hikes his sweatshirt above your chest before Katsuki’s latching onto the skin under your collarbone and sucking, teeth digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” you whimper, intoxicated by the way Katsuki’s lips flush pink as he pulls away, eyes locked on the fresh hickey on your chest. They flicker up to you; he grins.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

Katsuki hums at that, licking his lips before diving back in. You hiss when he bites too hard, prompting him to bite harder, but he always soothes it over with his tongue, topping each bruise with a kiss. You flinch when his lips wrap around your nipple and he chuckles at your meek whimper; a hand removes its grip on the sweatshirt in favor of sliding it up your thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki says once he pulls away, enjoying the sight of you writhing in anticipation. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘m all yours just—“ you kick a leg in frustration at the thumb playing with the hem of your panties, “—do something already.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “Do what?”

You frown, huffing, “You know what.”

Katsuki shrugs, adjusting so he’s caging you to the floor. Ghosting a thumb over your panties, he says, “‘Course I do. You gotta ask nicely first.”

You tighten your hands into fists. He would.

“I’m no—“

“Beg, Princess,” Katsuki growls, his stare unwavering. He presses an inquisitive finger to your clit through your panties either as a promise or a threat—which, you’re not quite sure.

You crumble.

“I—fine, just—finger me.”

Katsuki doesn’t move. Asshole.

“Please.”

The ash-blond grins, finally pushing your panties to the side.

“Good girl.”

When Katsuki slides his first finger in, it’s much too easy, and you blame it on the foreplay. You shudder, hands moving to brace themselves on his big shoulders, and the ash-blond muffles a moan as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Another,” you moan, bucking your hips into his palm. Katsuki’s heated gaze flickers from your body to your face.

“Already?” He chuckles, the rasp in his throat giving his arousal away. You nod—he clicks his tongue.

“Fuckin’ dirty.”

Two fingers feel like so much more than just one, and they have your eyebrows folding in a poor attempt to muffle a whimper. Katsuki’s fingers still move tentatively but they’re getting comfortable, curling and searching for that place that’ll make you tremble. And then he finds it.

“F-Fuck,” your body jolts, and Katsuki’s shushing you against the pillows.

“Keep your mouth shut, Princess,” he purrs, head dipping down to nip at your neck. It adjusts the angle ever so slightly, but enough to make you hiss, and he chuckles. “Unless you wanna get caught.”

“Oh yeah, because that sounds fun right now,” you snort towards the ceiling. Katsuki pulls away with an unimpressed look as his thumb comes down over your clit.

“Can’t wait to fuck the brat outta ya. Maybe then you’ll actually shut up for once, huh?” Katsuki inserts a third finger without you asking him to, and you gasp, clawing at his back.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he laughs against your mouth lowly, as if the light kisses will do anything but make more noise, “Good God sweetheart, you’re really pent up, aren’t ya?”

“Shit—I doubt you’re much better,” you try, scoffing at what you can see of his painfully hard cock in his sweatpants. Katsuki looks down before sending a huff your way, with a cute little blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pulling out his fingers. You whine at the loss. “How d’ya want me to fuck you?”

You need to take a step back from how crude the question is. Right, sex.

“Right um,” you look around, trying to find the least obvious position—and one that doesn’t make a shit ton of noise. Laying on your side, you tuck an arm under the pillow, before turning around to Katsuki to suggest, “Cuddle-fucking?”

“Cuddle-fucking.”

“Yep,” you say with finality, popping the p. Making big grabby hands his way, you say, “C’mere, big guy.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but moves behind you anyways, warm arms easily finding themselves around your waist under the blanket. After a few adjustments and ensuring you're both fully covered, Katsuki’s hard cock presses against your entrance as he hooks his head over your chin with a huff.

“This is so not on fuckin’ brand.”

“I don’t think fucking in a living room with sleeping friends is on-brand for a pro hero or a baker,” you say casually. Katsuki breaks out into a snort, pressing his face deeper into your neck.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you, ya know that?” He chortles. Your chest blooms with something it hasn’t in years, and for the first time, you find that you don’t mind.

“Don’t be such a dick and maybe I’ll stick around this time,” you quip with a smile he can’t see. Though you feel his against the base of your neck.

“Noted.”

Katsuki’s last words hang in the air, unusually heavy, and your eyes catch the snow beating against the window with a less than angry howl. Katsuki’s chest shudders against your back but he doesn’t move, hands frozen at your waist.

“Hey, I thought you were gon—“

“I’m getting to it,” Katsuki snaps, and you gasp as he starts to push inside. “So fuckin’ impatient, goddamn.”

He pulls you down until he fills you completely, and you suppress the urge to shout at the speed he did it with. Katsuki moves a hand to slap over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You reach around to pinch him in the side with a huff, he calls you a bitch. It’s a little hard to hear you behind his hand as you say, “Then don’t catch me off guard like that, asshole.”

Katsuki snaps his hips and does exactly what you tell him not to do—prompting another surprised whine out of you and a dark chuckle from the ash-blond. His cheek presses into your jaw as he finds leverage in hiking your lower half up until your puffy cunt is level with his cock, and fucking you until you drool all over the pillow.

“What a pretty fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki grunts, and you can tell he struggles to keep quiet in the way his chest sporadically shudders. You have to grip the pillow for some semblance of purchase and Katsuki chuckles at watching you struggle, before he’s hiking your leg up to fuck you that much deeper.

“I always—always knew you’d sound so good,” he pants, the grip around your mouth bordering on clammy. You want to tell him that if he keeps making so much noise he’ll wake up everyone in this fucking room, but there isn’t much time between moans to get more than a word in. “Fuck baby, keep tightening around me like that, and I might fuckin’ cum.”

You find it amusing how close he is so quickly, until two fingers land on your clit and start rubbing in slow, small circles. Your walls flutter around him and Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck with a curse, his grip around your raised thigh contracting as he tries to hold on for as long as he can.

And that’s when Denki starts to move.

First, he rolls to the left. Which would’ve been fine, seeing as it’s in the opposite direction until he bops Eijirou straight on the nose and promptly rouses the redhead from his slumber. Katsuki’s hips still.

“O-Ow, dick,” Eijirou curses under his breath, quickly scrambling to his forearms. It’s hard to tell through the darkness, mostly because you’re squinting your eyes to feign sleep, but it seems like Eijirou rubs under his nose, only to blink back at a bloody hand.

“...Shit.”

Katsuki’s hips shift, ever so slightly, but enough to nestle his cock deeper and force you to bite back a whine. And another. And then another.

You try your hardest to be discreet when you reach to pinch Katsuki in the side, and he breathes a laugh down your neck.

“What?” He whispers, though it's more than a rasp than anything else. Good to know you’re not the only one struggling to not cum, here.

“You know 'what,'” you quickly hiss. But Katsuki’s hips don’t stop as Eijirou weighs his options to cure his bloody nose in the dark. The fingers on your clit return their usual pressure and you inhale sharply, nails digging into Katsuki’s forearm as your orgasm begins creeping up on you.

Eijirou sniffles and gets up, stumbling through the darkness to turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. Katsuki sees that as fucking freedom and his hips really start to pick up so much speed that you struggle to breathe through it all.

“‘M gonna cum,” Katsuki whimpers into your neck, burying his face deeper in a poor attempt to stunt any sound. “Fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum, you close baby?”

“Y-Yeah jus’ a little more,” you whimper, eyes rolling as Katsuki finds some inhumane energy in him to fuck faster. He nods at that and bites into your shoulder with a growl, “C’mon, fuckin’ cream all over my cock—atta girl, fuck, fuck—“

Katsuki fills you up the moment you clench around his cock with a sigh, the weight of your orgasm knocking you forehead-first into your pillow as you bite the urge to squeal. Katsuki doesn't growl as much as you expect, moans breathy and light as his hips finally stutter to a stop—but you suppose some things have to change over the years.

Katsuki collapses next to you in pure exhaustion and you’re sure that’s his cum leaking down your thigh, but for some reason, you don’t really mind.

“Hey you,” he speaks first, eyes blazing red in the darkness. You snort.

“Hey, you.”

Katsuki chuckles with a stupidly giddy smile on his face, "Y'know, you still fuck really well."

You drop your head on his chest to snort, and his hands find their rightful place around your waist.

"Better than high school?"

"Yeah..." Katsuki grumbles, before his eyes narrow. "Wait—hey, yo—"

"I haven't fucked anyone since," you snuff the fire before it even starts, and Katsuki relaxes, though his eyes stay slim. He pulls you closer and you sigh—it's comfortable.

"Good," he grunts. And then after a pregnant silence: "I haven't either."

That's...strangely reassuring.

Your arms wriggle until they fold over his shoulders to play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, and he hums, eyes fluttering shut with a final peck on the lips. As Katsuki's breathing evens and the white of the snow dyes the highest points of his face white, you smile. He looks older.

You think he's asleep until he nudges your waist.

"Be my girlfriend."

You don't even hesitate.

"Okay."

By the time Eijirou comes stumbling down the hall, both you and Katsuki are passed out—with his body encompassing yours in the most intimate way, face tucked into your hickey-ridden neck as your arms and legs lock around his being. The redhead gives you both a soft smile as he passes, snorting to himself.

“Took them long enough.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOTSUKI

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bnha smut #bakugou smut #mha smut

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milliumizoomi · 3 years ago

Text

𝐼𝑆 𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝐻𝐸𝑅?!

TodoBakuDeku x Black FEM! Reader

AGED UP!!

Warnings: Fluff to Angst to Fluff, cursing, confused boyfriends, tw,, racism mention and hidden talents.

A/n: my motivation be dropping really fast but we back😩✨. also i got a lil lazy at the end so that’s mbb😭.

✗ 𝐎𝐇 𝐆𝐎𝐃, you knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen. They weren’t supposed to find out like this and now they're calling and texting you trying to find out where you are and what exactly it is that they just saw on literally one of the biggest billboard TVs in the city.

✗ But I should backtrack and say what lead to this.

✗ It started about 4 days ago.

You came home from work to an empty house, as usual. You were used to this. Your boyfriends were pro heroes so this was normal. You walked to your shared bedroom and dropped your purse on the bed. You sat down on the same bed and slipped your heels off. You then flopped down and let your body relaxed. “Ugh.. today was stressful. Ima go take a shower the wait for the boys to come home” you said. You then got up and stripped. You then picked up your shower cap off the dresser and walked to the bathroom. You pulled your lace front into a bun and put your shower cap on and turned the water on then hopped in the shower.

20 minutes later, you got finished with your shower. You stepped out and grabbed your (f/c) towel and dried off. You then also took the chance to peel the shower cap off of your head. You set the shower cap on the shelf and wrapped the towel around your body and walked out of the bathroom. You got to the bathroom and grabbed your lotion off the dresser and started to apply it to your body. After you were done, you threw on a big t-shirt that you had bought some time back.

You walked into the living room to see none of your boyfriends are back. You shrugged this off and decided to make dinner. Today you thought you make ackee and saltfish. You knew that your boys enjoyed your food. Especially since they weren’t used to food like that. So you got to work.

About an hour later, you hear the front door jiggling. And then the sounds of gruff voices could be heard. ‘They’re home’ you thought as you covered the pot and walked to the front door. When you got there, you saw all of your boyfriends leaning on each other as support for taking off their shoes. “Welcome home,” you said to them. They all looked up, stunned. They didn’t even notice you were there.

“Oh hey angel sorry you startled us. Are you ok?” Todoroki said as he stood up and hugged your much tinier figure. “Yes, sweetheart I’m ok. And how are my other boys?” You asked teasingly. Bakugou grumbled and stood up and leaned down towards your shoulder. You could tell he was stressed. “Ease up ‘Suki babe I need to my hair outta the way,” you said as you felt Bakogou’s head resting on your hair. He lifted his head for a second and allowed you to move your hair then dropped his head right back onto your shoulder. Midoriya then walked up to you and snuggled his head into the top of your head. “Hi pretty baby.. you ok?” He asked as he continued to rest his head on you. “My baby m’ok but y’all look tired.. rough day?” You asked as u were still supporting all of these huge men whom were all 6 foot and over. He nodded his head in your hair, answering your question. You stayed like that for a while until you remembered. “..Did I turn off the stove?” All the boys perked up at you at your question. “WHAT THE HELL?!” Bakugou yelled as he bolted to the kitchen. “Oh crap..!” You said as he managed to turn it off before anything bad happened. “I can’t believe I totally forgot..” you sighed. “Well boys go clean up I’ll share your plates,” you told the boys. They nodded and headed to the bedroom.

‘They were off.. what happened today..?’ You thought. You had realized that their behavior was slightly off as soon as you walked up to the door and inspected them. Their body language was a little different. ‘But why didn’t they tell me..? Do they not wanna talk about it?’ You continued to ponder. You decided that you would ask them later. You shared their plates and placed them on the table. You then shared your plate and sat down. They all emerged out of their bedroom in their casual clothes. And by casual I mean shirtless with sweats on.

They came and sat down at the table. “Thanks princess, it looks delicious!” Midoriya praised. Bakugou grunted in approval and Todoroki nodded, indicating he thought the same. You all then started eating in silence. It felt awkward. You decided this would be the best time to talk about what may be bothering them,, so you asked. “My loves?” You started. They all looked up and you, letting you know you have their attention. “Did something happen..? I mean! The reason I was asking is that you guys seem to be deep in thought about something” you continued.

You watched as all three of the men looked at each other then looked back down at their food. You sat there confused. Where they not going to tell you? You opened your mouth to say something but Bakugou cuts you off, “Don’t worry about it Y/N.. it doesn’t concern you anyways” he grunted. This surprises you. You all had been keen on communication in this relationship and yet here they are shutting you out. “What does that mean Kastuki? Y’all know that we communicate in this relationship. I want to help you with whatever it is that is bothering y’all but how am I supposed to when you won’t even tell me?” You said, having your english slowly beginning to break because you were getting a little upset.

“Drop it Y/N. This isn’t something we wanna share ok” Todoroki said calmly. “But why? We’re supposed to be open about this stuff” You answered back. You weren’t going to drop this so easily. You wanted answers all while trying to stay rational, calm, and patient, but that was slowly dwindling. “At least explain to me why you don’t want me to know and I won’t push it! You aren’t giving me any answers here! How am I supposed to feel seeing the three people I love so much walk through that god damned door looking frustrated and shit huh?!” You say getting even more frustrated.

“STOP FUCKING ASKING! IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND OK!” Bakugou yelled. “Now I don’t know who the fuck you raising your voice at ‘cause I know it ain’t me,” you said, trying to maintain your calm state of mind. “Yes! I am talking to you” Bakugou grunted out. “No the hell you not y’all know I don’t take disrespect from nobody,” you said while leaning your hand on the table and resting your face in your palm.

They stayed silent. “And why don’t you think I’ll understand?” You continued. They didn’t answer. “Well?” You questioned. You scoffed. “Wow ok, no answer tough crowd I guess..” you said, rolling your eyes. You looked over at Midoriya who was silent the whole time. You could see he wanted to say something by the look on his face.

“You got something to say don’t you Izuku? Go ahead say it. ‘Cause right now I’m trying to understand” you told him. He froze up at the sound of his name. You didn’t really use their real names much so it was a shock to not only him but the other two men as well. “B-babe.. well I— I just—“ he started. He then sighed and started again. “It’s something you wouldn’t understand because um..” he said and then mumbled something at the end. “Ima need you to speak up please ‘cause you mumbling and I ain’t hear what you said” you said. He froze for a second then said it again. “Because your not...” he mumbled again. “Izu I still can’t hear you” you told him. “BECAUSE YOUR NOT A PRO HERO!” He blurted out. Your eyes widened and you froze. We’re they seriously not gonna tell you what’s bothering them because of their job?

“Are yall fucking serious..?” You mumbled out. “We’ve lived together for so long.. we’ve been dating for so long and y’all trying to tell me the reason y’all can’t explain what the hell is bothering you is because I don’t have the same fucking job..!” You stated getting angry. “What does that even have to do with anything?!” You said, fuming.

And they just sat there. Staring down at the table. “I don’t give a damn about your job all I want to know is what’s wrong so I can help you!” You yelled out. “You should give a damn about our jobs.. all you do is leech off u—“ Bakugou started but stopped as soon as he heard what he was saying. The other two men looked at him wide eyed. They all turned to look at you. You stood there in shock. You then laughed, but there was no humor behind it.

“Wow.. this all started because I was trying to be a good girlfriend. And then the people I call so called boyfriends wanna tell me that I’m LEECHING OFF THEM?! THAT THE REASON THEY CAN NO LONGER TALK WITH ME IS BECAUSE IM NOT A FUCKING BIG SHOT LIKE THEM?! UNLESS YOU FORGOT I GO TO WORK TOO! I DON’T LEECH OFF NOBODY FOR SHIT!” You said, seeing red. How dare they. They know the shit you go through at your workplace. Having to deal with racism and things of that nature. You stood up from the table with the food that was barely touched. “Eat your food I’m going to bed.. do whatever the fuck y’all want ion care,, I won’t ask no questions no more. Thanks for telling me the reason though” You said as you walked off to one of the guest bedrooms to sleep.

They boys sat there in silence. They knew they were wrong for what they did and no doubt they felt horrible. “Fuck” Bakugou started, leaning down to hit his head on the table. “That was the worst conversation ever..” Midoriya said, pushing his plate away. “I feel really bad.. all she wanted to do was help” Todoroki chimes in. The guilt settles with them. “She.. she didn’t deserve that..” Bakugou said feeling extremely guilty. “Why did I say those stuff.. I’m a fucking idiot!” He continued. “Don’t say that Kacchan! Granted we didn’t act the best but..” Midoriya trails off. “We should go talk to her..” Todoroki says as he gets up. The other two men get up as well and they all walk towards the room you were in.

They stopped in front of the door when they get there. Midoriya knocked softly. “B-babe..? Can we come in?” He said silently. There was no answer. He looked back at the two males behind him then spoke a little louder. “N/N can we come in please we’re sorry.” Still there was no answer. Todoroki moved in front of him to test if the door was unlocked and it was.

He looked over at Midoriya and Bakugou, then looked forward and pushed the door open. The room was dark, with only a soft glow coming from your phone. Your back faced away from the door so you couldn’t see the boys when they came inside the room. “B-babe..?” Midoriya croaked out. You didn’t answer. “Babe we’re sorry please face us..” He continued. You stayed silent, not moving a muscle. The boys looked at each other and sighed in defeat. They moved to leave since they knew that when your mind was made up about something, there’s no persuading you.

“Hey..” you called out to them before they left the room. “Yes?!” Midoriya called out first. The three men turned around quickly, facing you. “Say that to me again.. and I won’t stay here..” you said as you turned to face them. Your eyes were red and your face was tear stained. You cry when frustrated.

The three men stiffened. The my knees what they did was wrong, but they had no clue it affected you so much. “Do I make myself clear..?” You asked seriously. “Y-yes babe.. we’re sorry.. just please don’t leave.. please” Todoroki said as he leaned down next to your bed and hugged you. You put your hand on his head and reassured him. “I’m not, I’m not. I trust you guys. You have me your word. I love you. All of you.” You tell them. Bakugou and Midoriya stood there, probably too overwhelmed with the situation. “Come on you two. Get over here.” You smile at them. The all laid in your bed together and fell asleep, the dinner forgotten on the table.

You woke up the next day to a cold bed. ‘Oh they probably went to work already..’ you thought. It was Friday. “Well.. time to get up” you yawned. You got up out of your bed and stretched. You took a shower, put your clothes on and made breakfast. You realized the dishes from the dinner you cooked yesterday were washed and cleaned already. You smiled at this and continued to finish getting ready for work. You finished your preparation and went to your car. You started the car and drove off to work.

When you pulled up, you got a text from your friend since middle school.

✗ Messages

[???]

— hey y/n! how you been?

[you]

— hey … ! ive been good,, hbu?

[???]

— ive been doing alright,, but i need to ask you a favor

[you]

— a favor?? what kind of favor??

[???]

— remember what we used to do in high school >:)

[you]

— lemme think abt it ok

[???]

— alr but lmk soon ok

[you]

— np xai yk i will

Read at 8:43 a.m

You spent the whole morning considering what your long time best friend asked of you. You really wanted to, but you weren’t sure. ‘It has been a while.. and I’d like to catch up. I wonder if they still act the same,, knowing those bitches they haven’t changed” you rolled your eyes and laughed.

A few hours pass and you get off work and get home. You slip your shoes and jacket off and walk to your shared bedroom with the boys. ‘Ugh..my head is killing me..’ you thought as you sighed and plopped down on the bed. You took your phone out of your back pocket and looked at the messages again. You really weren’t sure whether or not it was a good idea. You decided to take some more time to just think it over.

You sighed as set your phone down on the bed. You payed there for a bit just to relax. After a couple minutes you decided to go take a shower. “Ugh.. time to take a shower. Damn work took it outta me today. Wonder when them niggas getting home today..” you stretched and said. You laughed to yourself as you thought of how many times you’ve called the men you live with different names. It’s funny because they don’t mind it at all, so you get to basically call them anything you want. You shook the thought from your head and headed to the bathroom to take your shower.

After you finished, you walked out with a towel on and headed back to the room. ‘Ok I needed that..’ you thought to yourself. You made sure to dry your skin properly and continue to do your night routine. ‘Finally finished for the night.. god I’m tired but I still have to cook’ you thought.

You made your way to the kitchen to prepare dinner. You chose to make some fried chicken with rice and a homemade sauce you created a while back. You got the pots on the stove and started cooking. Like clockwork, the 3 men you shared your home with came through the door at roughly the same time as the day before. Right now, it was 8:39pm. You heard the front door and the muffled voices from the kitchen. You smiled to yourself knowing that they made it home safely. Being a pro hero does not mean you living to see tomorrow is guaranteed, so you were grateful. You heard their heavy footsteps and muffled voices coming closer towards you. You turned away from the stove to greet them.

“Hey how was work?” You questioned as you were putting a knife down. “Stressful” Bakugou said running his had over his face. He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to look at what you were cooking. “Hey babe” Todoroki said sitting at the table. “Hi Sho. I’m guessing your day was just as bad as Katsuki’s huh?” You snickered. Todoroki shook his head with a soft smile on his face because of your antics. “How ‘bout you Izu how did the job go for you?” You said teasingly. He groaned and leaned up next to you on fridge. “It was stressful today that’s for sure..” he exasperated.

You couldn’t help but laugh at them. They look so out of place and annoyed. “Awe come on babe cut us some slack. Some of these people really know how to get on my nerves ok!” Bakugou groaned. The two other men nodded in agreement. You let out a final laugh before calming down. “Okok I will. I’m sorry” you said, still trying to calm down. The three men looked at you then smiled. This went unnoticed by you since you had shifted your attention back to the stove. Your mind was still lingering on the day before with the events that took place. You shook you’re heading to try and shake off the feeling since you opted to try and not think about it and got back to cooking.

“Oh by the way N/N, we have some plans we have to look over for the weekend ok? So we need to focus because apparently this new mission is a big job” Todoroki said. You nodded. You knew by the tone of his voice that he was serious, plus, you had no energy to say anything otherwise. “Dinner’s ready!” You said as you placed their food on the table. You could see that they’ve already started talking about what they had to do.

Suddenly a light bulb went off in you head. “Aye.. y’all.. I actually have something a friend wanted me to help them on this weekend. They didn’t say what it was but apparently it’s some sort of project” you tell them. You decided you were gonna help your friend since the boys are gonna be extremely busy. And that meant you were most likely gonna get ignored unintentionally, which is something you weren’t looking forward to anyways. And since they already started planning out what they were going to do about the mission, they just waved you off. You rolled your eyes and went to your shared room and grabbed your phone.

✗ Messages

— i’ll be there,, and expect me early cuz i may be leaving tonight or early tomorrow

Delivered

You put your phone down and started to pack a bag full of stuff you may need. ‘Should I leave a note when I’m going?’ You thought. ‘Naw whatever I’ll text them that I’m gone’ you decided. You continued to pack your overnight bag, making sure to put all the essentials in it. You look at the clock to see it was already past 10.

“Damn that took longer than I thought..” you said as you leaned up to stretch your back. ‘Where are those overworkers anyways? I thought they’d come in here and see me packing or sumn but I guess not’ you thought as your mind traveled to your boyfriends. You walked out of the room and into the kitchen to see they were already done eating. You rolled your eyes. “Of course those niggas are already working. Guess I’ll leave tonight. Got nothing to do anyways” you said to yourself.

You went back to your room and changed your clothes. After you were done, you made sure to grab your purse and put everything that may be needed in it. You wrote a note and stuck it the one place you knew they would all see it. The fridge. After you were done, you took all your stuff and grabbed your car keys. You walked out of the big doors and opened your car to drop all of your stuff on the passenger side of the car. You walked back around to the driver side and jumped in. You started the car and drove off, already knowing the address to the place you needed to go.

You arrived at the big house that was blaring with music. ‘A music video.. I knew it’ you thought. You and your friend, which was a well known musician. A famous one at that. And he wanted you to be in it since well, you’re a dancer and sometimes you sing too. ‘This was the project huh..?’ You thought as you shook you’re head and laughed silently.

“N/N YOU HOE YOU MADE IT!” Your friend, Xai yelled as he hugged you. You hugged him back. “Shut the fuck up bitch, yes i'm here. Now tell me what I have to do nigga” you said teasingly.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You know exactly what to do don’t act” he says walking away. You laugh. “Yeah yeah I hear ya. Now where’s my outfit. This is gonna be so fun” you said with excitement.

A few days later•••

And that is how you ended up with your situation. Apparently you went viral in that music video. You were one of the dancers and one of the background singers. You were dancing with your friend, who’s stage name was Xailli, in a scene and people found you captivating. So now your face was on some of the biggest billboards in the city. And apparently they, meaning your 3 boys, saw you and is now blowing up you’re phone.

“XAI! WHAT THE HELL! I DIDN’T KNOW THAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY PLANNING ON RELEASING IT SO QUICKLY!” You yelled at him on the phone. “I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE RELEASING IT EITHER!” He said frustrated. “Oh my god.. and now their blowing up my phone” you said. Right now you were hurrying to drive home.

“Omg I’m gonna get a fucking earful when I get home. And I honestly thought it was supposed to be a rough draft” you sighed. You never told the boys about your secret talents and now you were pretty sure whatever conversation that’s waiting on you wasn’t gonna be a pretty one. “Wait are they planning on releasing the rest?!” You asked expectantly. Xai scratches his head. “You know I’m not even sure no more I’d have to ask but since they can pull shit like this I wouldn’t put it past them..” he answers very frustrated. “Fuck..” you sighed.

“When I see your producers again they getting they ass beat. And why did they make us sign that NDA?” You asked. “Honestly I have no idea. I feel like they tryin to hide sumn but I don’t fucking know” he answered, visibly stressed. “Ah whatever.. I just pulled up outside the house so I’ll talk to you later ok” you said to him. “Alright laterrrrrr” he answered in a singsong voice. “Byeeeeee” you answered as you hung up.

‘Ah fuck..' you thought as you got out of the car and made your way to the front door. You walk up the stairs and go to open the front door when it swung open. You froze. ‘shit! shit! shit!’ You thought. You head was tilted down so all you saw were their feet. You were pretty sure they were starting down on you so you didn’t move an inch.

“Well?” Midoriya said. You didn’t even shift. For some reason you were so nervous that you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath. “Get your ass inside. We need to talk about something that I’m pretty sure you know about” Bakugou said, turning around. The other two men turned around and walked inside the house.

‘Why the actual fuck is this happening right now’ you thought as you walked in the house, head still facing the ground. You put all your stuff by the door and took you shoes off, then just stood there awkwardly. The three men stood in front of you, towering over your body.

“So.. you gonna start explaining? Because we sure as hell would love to know what we saw on the billboards all over the fucking city" Bakugou said. “And look up at us when we’re talkin’ to you” Midoriya says.

‘This is gonna be a fuckin' pain..’ you thought. You stood up straight and look at them dead in the eye. “What do you wanna know?” You asked. They all looked down at you knowingly. “We for one, why the fuck were you on a billboard today?” Bakugou asked. You sighed. “Ok I left you a note saying that I was gonna go to my friend’s house to help them with a project, given I had a feeling it was gonna be a music video but I wasn’t 100% sure” you said honestly. The three men looked at each other, then back at you. “Ok.. so then why didn’t you text us to tell us that’s what you were going to be doing when you found out?” Todoroki questioned. “I couldn’t. For some reason I had to sign an NDA, which I don’t normally have to do” you replied.

“They made you sign an NDA?!” Todoroki asks, concerned. “And you said they usually don’t make you do that..? Does that mean you’ve helped or does these types of things before?” Midoriya asks. “First yes Sho, I’ve been in helping in the music industry and in all my years of doing that I’ve never had to sign an NDA. And secondly, Yes Izu, as I said before I have been helping in this industry for a while.” You answered honestly. The three men stood there bewildered.

“So you’ve been helping with these kinds of things and never told us?” Bakugou asked. “Well yeah I guess.. it really wasn’t a everyday sort of thing. Whenever they called me to help I’d either tell them yes or no.” You answered. “Ok.. so what about the NDA?” Todoroki asks. “Well.. we did multiple videos, meaning music videos, and the producers released the video you saw today without Xai’s permission so I’m not sure what their gonna do now” you answered.

“WAIT THERE’S MORE?!” Bakugou yelled. “Uh.. yeah??” You answered in clear confused. “And they made you sign an NDA?!” Midoriya questioned. “Uhh yeah I’m sorry I don’t get it” you answered back visibly still confused. You looked at the three men who looked at you then looked at each other.

“Yeah we’re going down there NOW!!” Bakugou said, grabbing his jacket. “Wait wait WHAT HOLD ON I DON’T GET IT!” You yelled in confusion. Just then, your phone started ringing. You looked at the caller ID to see it was Xai. You answered it quickly. “Hey what’s up? You good why you calling again?” You asked. “No time to explain but you need to get over here quick. It has to do with the NDA. Turns out the producers and some people on my teams’ been pulling some shit behind the scenes,” he replied. You’re eyes widened at this and then mumbled a quick “thank you” then you hung up.

“They tried to fuck us over.. let’s go” you said as you rushed to the car. The three men looked at each other then proceeded to follow you. “I’m driving” Todoroki said as he took the keys from you. You all jumped in the car and he drove off. After you gave the directions and he got there, there was a spectacle outside. There were news reporters and paparazzi crowded outside. It was the house you shot the music video at, not Xai’s actual house. “For fuck's same how’d they find out already?!” Bakugou yelled. You sighed.

“I’ll handle this” you said as you got out the car. You walked up to the door but before you could get there, there were flashing mics and cameras being stuck up in your face. “Can you please get that away from me?” You asked as you tried to push forward but to no avail. “Excuse me but I think our love said to move back thank you,” Midoriya said, coming out of absolutely nowhere.

And the reporters just stood there in shock. Then the questions started bombarded all of you. You all managed to push through the flood of reporters, granted with Bakugou yelling curses for them to get out of your face. You all managed to get up to the front door. “XAI LET US IN! THESE REPORTERS OUT HERE ALL UP IN OUR FACE!” You yelled over the noise the door swung open and Todoroki pulled you up and walked inside the house with Midoriya and Bakugou quickly following. “Sho why’d you pick me up?” You asked. “I wanted to” he said nonchalantly. You rolled your eyes as he set you down.

“So where’s this Xai person and where can we find his management and team?” Midoriya said seriously. “No shit, they’re not getting away with this” Bakugou said. “I’m Xai and I’m talking to them right now, you can come along if you want to you know,” Xai answered. “You stay here” Midoriya said. “I ain’t staying nowhere,, let’s go,” you said, following Xai. The boys shook their heads at you and followed your lead.

✗ Eventually they got all the information they need and filed a lawsuit. Apparently what was happening was that Xai’s management was trying to squander the resources they have for this project they were currently doing for another. Basically copyright. And therefore they’ve made all who were there sign an NDA so that if this came out to them and those workers realized what they were doing then they wouldn’t be able to say anything.

✗ They got sued of course and Xai had to find new management. And you won the case and everyone was paid the money they deserved. You, on the other hand became a well know singer and dancer after that, with the help of the boys’ support of course. You were happy and so were the boys and you could honestly say that things couldn’t have turned out any better.

©Property of Miashimaa. Please don’t rectify, repost or modify without my permission. Plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

Taglist: @develith @uniquabackyardigans @unfazedrose @kiribis-confesion-page @darylthekidd @gm4176 @blackweebtrash @erensbbg @shamwizzy @kloudyisdepressed @namjoonswifeyy @cosmiclvsh @bakuhoes-bxtch @morosis-haze @aracynthos @dukina (Open ! click here to be added!)

#— 𝖫𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖫 𝖯𝖠𝖲𝖲𝖤𝖣 #todobakudeku x reader #todoroki fluff #todoroki angst #todoroki x black!reader #todoroki x poc!reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #bakugou x black!reader #bakugou x poc!reader #deku fluff #deku angst #deku x black!reader #deku x poc! reader

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butwhatifidothis · 3 years ago

Text

I think the thing that's getting me the most about TEatG's take on "fighting against fate" is that is the fate it's fighting against is like... the good ending.

got long lol under the cut it goes

Like - take Awakening for a second, another story that's about fighting fate. What exactly is Lucina fighting against? What's her fate? Well, her fate is to have her father be murdered by the one person he trusted most due to that person succumbing to their fate of being a vessel for the harbinger of the apocalypse, ushering in unfathomable loss for the entire world that Lucina has quite literally no hope to win against, to the point where her genuine only hope of rescuing anyone is to travel to a different timeline set before everything went to ruin to save everyone there instead.

Lucina, as well as pretty much everyone involved, of course did nothing to ever deserve such a horrific fate to befall them, and so it makes the audience sympathetic to her plight and understanding of what she is almost/full-on willing to resort to, even though that includes murdering someone who could potentially be her own mother and thus preventing the birth of her own brother. We feel the larger scale suffering Lucina is trying to prevent for others while also seeing the smaller scale personal suffering Lucina is trying to stop for her own personal peace of mind through the death of her father and how it affects her. The stakes are extremely high for her and the audience can thus feel the pressure she as a character is going through, and we're able to see that yes, despite what Lucina is willing to do she is genuinely only doing this because she feels she must.

In contrast, what is Woobiegard fighting against? What's her fate? Well, her fate is to... be defeated. After being the cause of immense suffering and torment of, in her own admission, thousands of people, and after working with people she knows are hurting even more innocents, and for reasons that are never properly shown to be justified. Even when her enemies do her work for her and say that they are totally evil, nothing is ever shown in the story to actually show off why or how that is.

Unlike with Lucina, where we as the audience can very visibly see what it is she is fighting against, nothing of the Church's supposed oppression is truly on screen. We are told all the time that it’s the Church’s teachings that is the cause of suffering, but nothing in the story of the fic ever proves that to be true; even without the game, it seems more like bad apples opportunistically and deliberately misinterpreting the intention behind the Church’s teachings to do nefarious deeds more so than it ever feels like actual indorsement from the Church to commit these acts - this indorsement which would be an essential key in making Woobiegard’s methods in toppling the Church as violently as she does at least understandable. This is not the case with Grima, whom we see is the direct and nearly sole cause for the horror and destruction Lucina’s world falls into.

Having the context of the game makes this even worse, as that shows that the fic is deliberately leaving out details of the Church’s tenets in order to make them appear worse; not once has the “Dare not abuse the power gifted to you by the goddess” tenet ever been referred to in any way, and it is coincidentally the only tenet that is never mentioned in some way in the fic. It criticizes the Church for involving itself in the affairs of the three nations without ever mentioning that it was the three nations that asked for the Church to intervene. It also - paradoxically, mind - accuses the Church of never stepping into the affairs of the three nations when they’re in trouble, without realizing that the Church doing so would actually be them trampling across the sovereignty of the three nations. It thus makes it seems as though the Church hasn’t actually done anything to deserve all of this hatred and degradation thrown at it and it’s just Woobiegard hating the Church for simply existing, despite the Church’s existence never actually negatively impacting Fodlan as a whole. Again, unlike Grima, who proves time and again that did they not exist, the world would be at peace; the Church doesn’t come across as a suitable threat to justify the actions taken to bring it down.

On top of that, Woobiegard’s personal suffering of the loss of her family, narratively speaking, isn’t to give her a grounded presence for the audience to better get a feel for her character and understand why she does what she does; it’s just another of a nearly endless slew of Tragic Sad Boo Hoo Wah Wah’s to make the audience overlook the horrible actions she’s performing because She Was Sad Once. With Lucina, her pain and trauma are an explanation for her morally dubious actions, but not an outright justification for them; she isn’t suddenly completely right to try to murder Robin in cold blood just because of her experiences, since Robin is still an innocent at the time Lucina decided to attempt to murder them. With Woobiegard, her pain and trauma are so integral in justifying her character it is interwoven throughout the entire prose of the entire fic. The reader is bombarded with how Sad and Lonely Woobiegard is, and how that is why she is right and just to do the things she does, and everyone who is deemed good (enough) is always convinced of Woobiegard’s righteousness once they hear how Sad and Lonely she is.

Or, to tie it back to the comparison: Chrom doesn’t give Lucina the thumbs up to murder Robin just because he knows how much trauma and horror Lucina has seen, whereas Ficleth would have murdered Robin herself with no hesitation or regret were she in the same position for Woobiegard.

Moving on from that: What did Grima do to have Lucina be so desperate to kill them? Literally end the world. How do they do this? Resurrecting the dead and forcing their bodies to attack and kill the living, as well as being a Holy-Fuck-sized dragon that will casually just destroy everything in their path, legit because Why Not Lol. Boom, Lucina's words about how awful her fate is has now been properly showcased to the audience, it is now an indisputable fact of the world, we can now properly understand her motivations, and the evil she is fighting against is solidly and decidedly evil.

What did Rhea do to have Woobiegard be so desperate to enact war with her? Well, uh, you see, some nobles hold Crests to be very important and used that to be assholes. Ignore all of the nobles that are nobles without Crests, or all of the Crested individuals that aren't nobles, or all of the nobles with Crests whose lives are just fine, some nobles are badly affected by Crests therefore Crest system therefore Bad. And how did Rhea do this? Nemesis and his Elites ruled over Fodlan with their newfound Crests for over a century before the Church was formed- *AHEM* sorry, tickle in my throat, it's actually totally strictly and only because the Church said that Crests were gifts from the goddess. Ignore that it also said not to abuse these gifts which means that anyone doing so is not doing so with backing from the Church and would thus just be selectively cherry-picking from the Church's tenets to thinly veil their shitty actions as righteous even though they know they're being shitty, Rhea made Crests bad because she totally directly made people think having a Crest made people better which means she totally needs to be gotten rid of for any change to happen even though she doesn't actually ever indorse the beliefs Woobiegard is fighting against and thus killing her will do literally nothing since the shitty nobles doing shitty things will just switch the reasons why they're doing shitty things since the actual root cause (basic human greed and cruelty that must be dealt with on an individual level and doesn't have Kill Rhea as a one-size-fit-all solution to it) has been fundamentally misidentified.

Hooray.

This lack of a proper showing as to how bad the situation actually is makes it nearly impossible for the audience to get a good grasp as to why the protagonist is fighting so hard and going to such desperate measures. With Lucina, it could not be more clear cut; her words, her actions, and what we the audience physically see with our own eyes all fall perfectly in line with each other. We can see that Lucina's fate is bad, and thus we root for her to fight against said fate, and thus we understand when that means taking actions we as the audience most likely wouldn't take ourselves. With Woobiegard, it's all over the place; nothing in the world - especially 3H's, but even the fic as a stand-alone entity - reflects why Woobiegard believes anything she does or takes the actions she does. It's just told to us, and nothing is ever grounded by physicality so that we the audience can get a feel as to the weight of everything going on - which is then made infinitely worse when Woobiegard herself performs the very actions she claims to be fighting against.

Lying to her allies when it benefits her, always - and I mean fuckin' always always - casting blame to others while trying to keep herself morally clean, manipulating those around her to follow her, performing blatant and repeated acts of hypocrisy - which includes being overly violent to those who stand against her and allowing Petra to force her people to bend to her whim under threat of death, two of the biggest things she lambasts the Church/Rhea for doing - utilizing her Crest(s) to better violently invade sovereign nations and assert her control over them. And the list goes on and on and on. Suffice to say that Lucina, uh, doesn't do this lmao.

So Woobiegard's goal in the fic - fighting her fate - isn't one that an audience that isn't already willing to overlook her actions can relate to. She is the one to directly cause immense suffering across all of Fodlan for half a decade; even by Woobiegard's own logic, Rhea is only at best an indirect cause, with the nobility that are willing to make others suffer being the true direct cause of Fodlan's current state. Meaning that going by Woobiegard's logic, she is the worse of the two of them. Commoner rebellions quelled by threat/use of lethal force, violently invading upon the sovereignty of other nations, blatantly disregarding morality whenever it doesn't let her get her way, all while justifying everything she does to herself as being for the greater good - her fate is her not being able to do this. That is what she is fighting against.

She wants to be allowed to do this - not necessarily that she actively wants to do these things, but that she is allowed to get away with doing all of these things. She wants to be the Hegemon while having the cute child-like lover, and the ever-loyal side-piece, and the mindless friends that always do what she wants and believes what she believes, and the nice peaceful life in the cottage with her art supplies, all without ever having to face a single consequence for her actions - because that'd be fate “undeservingly” making her life just oh so hard.

And the absolute kicker? Chapter 36.

It shows the results of what happens if Ficleth were to follow fate and kill Woobiegard... and it leads to peace. Sure, she’s not happy, and the Black Eagles aren’t happy - well, some of them at least, who knows maybe Caspar and Whohardt are just livin’ it the fuck up in the background - but Fodlan as a whole is at peace. The people are safe. The day is saved. And the direct thing that led to that is the defeat of Woobiegard. Even when Ficleth leaves her position and takes up that cottagecore life, Flayn takes up the mantle and then also goes on to lead Fodlan to peace. Again, directly because Woobiegard was defeated. Like I said, the fate that Woobiegard and everyone on her side is fighting so hard and so desperately to prevent from happening in the CF timelines... is the one where Fodlan is saved and freed from Woobiegard’s actions.

So like. Uh. Yeah. Not exactly as compelling as past examples have shown to be able to be

#exqueuese me princess #o captain my captain #using Lucina because she's a good example of genuinely fighting fate that's already in the FE series who is likely recognizable #but yeah like this fic is so weird to read? like with a serious critical lens #since so much of it is fundamentally wrong and yet it's being taken as seriously as it is in this fandom #like fuckin' like. imagine right #if in FEA there was a scene that showed what happened if Lucina did nothing and didn't fight her fate #and it shows everyone singin' Kumbaya holdin' hands and dancin' a jig #IT WOULD FUCK UP THE IDEA THAT HER FATE IS ONE THAT IS BAD ENOUGH TO FIGHT AGAINST WOULDN'T IT #if the results of not fighting fate are inarguably better than the results of fighting fate #then why should we as the audience root for the one fighting fate? why are we rooting for the bad end?#Chapter 36 outright shows that it's not actually about trying to make Fodlan better but about making sure Her Majesty gets her toes sucked #even at the expense of thousands of innocent lives

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crushed-like-an-ant · 3 years ago

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how to calm down an angry billionaire

Step 1. Deflect.

Peter was good at deflection. Always had been. It was a skill he'd picked up after people constantly tried to ask him about his feelings after his parents died, then again when Ben died. Any questions he didn't want to answer quickly turned into an animated conversation about whatever his mind thought of first (there had been that awkward time he'd asked a fellow orphan how their parents were), an apology and fast excuse to get the hell out of there (mostly worked except when he was panicking and the best he could come up with was a cheese making competition, that had caused a lot of questions Peter would rather never deal with again), or just flat out running away (sometimes he ran into poles or walls which was always a bit embarrassing given he was literally Spider-man). Sometimes Peter had to use all three options. So Peter knew when Tony finally decided to have the dreaded conversation about the whole not-my-first-time-holding-up-a-building thing, he would be able to deflect it. Or so he thought. Turns out, Peter had drastically underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Tony Stark.

It was a lab day, around three weeks after the incident where Peter and Tony had been stuck under a building and Peter stupidly let slip that he’d held up a building before. Peter had thought Tony had forgotten about his words. He was comfortable, tentatively confident and optimistic that it wouldn't be brought up again. He had no idea how wrong he was.

"Hey kid?" Tony said, cutting the comfortable silence between them as they worked, tone slightly hesitant. Peter should've picked up on it. He should've realised. But he'd grown complacent. So Peter ignored the dread pooling in his stomach and lifted his head from the mess of wires in front of him to look at Tony.

"Mr Stark?" he replied with a smile that Tony didn't return. Nor did he try to tell Peter to call him Tony. And that was how Peter knew something was wrong. Nerves skittered down his spine, clod fingers of dread snaking around his neck as nervous energy filled him and he began to tap on the desk. Anything to distract himself from the sorrow and worry shining in his mentor's brown eyes.

"Look kid, uh, I," Tony fumbled for words. Shit. This was bad. If Tony Stark was struggling to say something, you knew it was serious. Peter just stared at him in silence,unsure of what to say, anxiety coursing through his veins at the grimace that clouded Tony's features. What could possibly have gotten him into this mood? Had Peter done something wrong? Was he gonna, oh god, was he gonna take the suit? "Pete, I need to know what you meant when we were under the building," Tony finally managed to say, Peter relaxing. Oh. That was all?

"I just meant that I'd lifted a lot of heavy things," Peter half-lied, looking Tony straight in the eyes and lying to his face, mindful to make sure his tells were carefully under control. Training with Daredevil - despite Tony's misgivings about Double D - had been one of the best decisions Peter had ever made. He felt a twinge of guilt as he lied to Tony but it's not like he could tell the truth. And he wasn't really lying. Just withholding the entire truth. He shrugged nonchalantly, "Anyways, you reckon you can help me with this? I'm stuck. My mind kinda decided to go and die on me." Peter chuckled quietly. Tony wasn't laughing.

"I want to believe you, kid," Tony told him, "I really do. But I can't. You had a panic attack under there. What aren't you telling me Peter? Whatever it is, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything. And I don't want to pressure you into telling me anything until you're ready but I-I just-I need to know what happened. I need to know what you meant." Peter's resolve almost broke as Tony's voice broke. No. He couldn't tell Tony. Not only would Tony think he was weak, but Peter knew that Mr Stark would blame himself because he took the suit. Peter couldn't let him do that. Option one had failed him, so it was onto option 2. Make a quick exit without raising any suspicions. Yeah, he didn't think that was gonna work. Worth a shot though.

"Hey, Mr Stark," Peter said after checking his watch and pretending to look shocked at the time, "I'm really sorry but I have to go. I promised Ned we'd work on our Bio project tonight and I'm already seven minutes late." Mr Stark raised an eyebrow and pulled up a picture of Ned on his holiday in California.

"Nice try kid," Tony replied drily. Peter sighed, shoulders slumping. Time for option three then.

"I-I don't really know how to tell you, uh," Peter deliberately stuttered, guilt eating him up inside as he put on an act for Tony. For option three to work, Peter had to catch Tony off guard otherwise he'd react too quickly and lock the tower down. His act work, Tony's features softening and body relaxing.

"It's okay, bambino, take your time." And if that didn't make him feel like a horrible person, nothing would. Peter stood and padded over to some machinery near the exit, pretending to be trying to busy himself as he worked himself up to answering Tony when he was actually getting closer to the door.

"I, uh," Peter stumbled. Tony was now far away enough that Peter could easily run without being grabbed and stopped. The door was right there. Peter took his opportunity. He ran. Out the door, down the hallway, flying to the elevator. Pressing the button frantically, Peter groaned when nothing happened. Great. Tony had stopped the elevators. Sighing, Peter pulled the mask from his pocket and pulled it over his head, sprinting at the window. Peter burst through the window in a shower of glass, activating his web shooters as he fell, quickly shooting a web and catching himself. And he was swinging, swinging, swinging. Allowing himself to smile at his escape, Peter was unprepared when he was grabbed from behind by two cold metal hands. Thanks for nothing spidey sense. Tony flew a sulking Peter back through the broken window and into one of the meeting rooms, setting him down firmly in a seat. Peter crossed his arms, pouting as he pulled off his mask, Tony's Iron Man suit unfolding around him and the man stepping out, an unimpressed look painted across his features.

"You done deflecting yet?" Tony asked, a single eyebrow raised. Damn. Peter wished he could do that. Alas, no amount of practising in front of a mirror had ever given him the talent to lift one eyebrow and not look like a demented monkey. Time for a different strategy. Deflection had failed him. But Peter would not go down easy.

~~~

Step 2. Deny.

The unfortunate thing about this step was that Peter would always over-deny. He would deny everything or nothing. There was no in between. For example, he was once denying eating the last bit of chocolate and ended up accidentally telling May his name wasn't Peter and that he was an alien from outer space with a severe lettuce allergy. Don't ask. Peter really didn't want to relive that trauma. So although Peter always tried his best with denial, it never really worked out in his favour. Honestly, it was through sheer dumb luck that he managed to keep Spider-Man a secret from his friends and family for so long. It was probably some good karma that had been waiting for the perfect moment to help him out. It was a little late but hey, better late than never right?

"No," Peter blurted in a panic. Shock splashed across Tony's face as he folded his arms.

"Kid, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Tony told him gently.

"No," Peter exclaimed again, hurt painting the billionaire's face. "I mean, yes." Shitshitshitshitshit. Peter was an idiot. He had to deny everything - but not everything, Peter, remember the lettuce incident - so Mr Stark wouldn't find out. But Peter had always been shit at denial.

"Look, I know this is probably hard for you to talk about," Tony continued on, oblivious to Peter's internal panic, "but I won't judge you. I love you, bambino. You know that right? And I'll support you no matter what but I can't help you if you don't let me."

"No," Peter said. It was the only word he knew. Any more and he would have another lettuce incident or he'd end up rambling the truth. He couldn't do that. So his current vocabulary was limited to 'no', 'no', 'no' with a side of 'no'. Which wasn't suspicious at all. Totally.

"What the hell, kid?" Tony asked, mostly confused, slight irritation colouring his tone. Peter was hyper-aware of the thundering beat his heart was drumming to, the way Tony's slightly picked up when he said 'no', the sweat covering his body like a second skin. Tony's sigh sounded like a bomb to his sensitive ears, the sharp intake of breath before he spoke like a blaring alarm. "What did you mean when you said it wasn't your first time?"

"I didn't," Peter responded, brain not quite computing, "nothing happened." Tony's gaze narrowed. Shit. Was Tony going to take the suit if he didn't tell him? But Peter just couldn't tell him. He couldn't.

"Fucking hell Peter, just tell me dammit!" Tony exclaimed, running a hand through his messy brown hair in frustration. Peter knew - with the certainty that he knew his own name or the colour of his eyes - that denial had failed him. Time for Peter's next strategy.

~~~

Step 3. Stretch the truth.

When Peter's other strategies failed him, he turned to stretching the truth. It was simple really, just take the truth and dial it down from boiling hot to freezing cold and give it to the person on a silver platter with a charmingly innocent - and only slightly nervous - smile. Half-truths were easy to fool people with. Someone had said that the best lies were the ones based on truth. Peter couldn't remember who exactly had said that. He had never been very good with that sort of stuff, unlike MJ. So although stretching the truth was Peter's third option, he'd always been surprisingly good at it. People seemed to believe he was too innocent to be able to lie. Which was absurd because he'd spent ten years living with his Aunt and her terrible cooking and she still didn't know he hated her walnut date loaf.

"Okay," Peter conceded quietly and the rage slowly left Tony as he deflated like a balloon, looking smaller without all the fury. Peter sat down in front of Tony. "It was back in the fight with The Vulture and he threw a wall at me. I caught it and threw it back at him but he dodged it with his super awesome flying skills." Tony looked him straight in the eyes for a few seconds, Peter holding his gaze before Tony leaned forward.

"Cut the bullshit," Tony whispered, dangerously quiet, tightly compressed anger stemming from worry swimming in his brown eyes. "A wall wouldn't stay together if it was thrown, caught and thrown back. Even then, you wouldn't say it wasn't your first time while holding a building up unless you'd held up a fucking building already. And you wouldn't have a panic attack from holding up a building about something thrown at you. So stop lying to me, Peter Benjamin Parker." Damn. The full name. Peter released a heavy exhale, knowing he was beaten. He had to tell Mr Stark the truth.

"It actually was in the fight with the Vulture," Peter began, "so I wasn't lying about that. And I did have to catch a few walls." Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter's weak attempts at defending himself. "I went to his warehouse and he sent his flying suit at me. It wasn't particularly good at attacking 'cause it hadn't even touched me. I said that and Toomes told me it wasn't trying to." Tony inhaled sharply, clasping his hands together to stop them from shaking, Peter trying not to listen to how Tony's hands still hit each other gently. Enhanced hearing sucked sometimes. "He had directed the suit to take out all the supports in the building." Tony gasped, expression contorted into one of such extreme guilt and sorrow that Peter wanted to shelter Tony from the world for the rest of his days because goddammit he's seen too much and been through enough and couldn't the world just give him a fucking break for once? No one deserved one more than Mr Stark did.

"I took the suit," Tony whispered, voice thick with emotion, "I took the suit. It was your only protection, damn it, and I took the fucking suit!" Tony was yelling now, self-hatred and rage dancing in his wild brown eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Mr Stark," Peter tried to tell him.

"How?" Tony scoffed, laughing bitterly, "How was this not my fault. I took the suit and you got hurt because of my mistake."

"It's okay, Mr Stark, you didn't know," Peter said.

"But I should've," Tony replied, "I should've known." Peter's features hardened, spine turning to steel. He wouldn't let Mr Stark blame himself for this. The blame was on Toomes and only on Toomes.

"Did you pilot the Vulture suit?" Peter asked firmly.

"What?"

"Did. You. Pilot. The. Vulture. Suit." Peter repeated, staring defiantly at Tony.

"No, of course not," Tony replied, slight confusion clinging to his features.

"And did you cause the building to fall?" he continued.

"No."

"Then it's not your fault," Peter told him simply.

"Kid, I shouldn't have taken the suit," Tony began, dropping his head into his hands. He opened his mouth to continue but Peter cut him off before he could say anything equally self-deprecating.

"Maybe," Peter allowed, "but then I wouldn't found out I was strong enough to get back up again. 'If you're nothing without the suit then you shouldn't have it'. You told me that. I thought the suit made Spider-man and I lost sight of what Spider-man really meant. God, I started out in a fricking onesie. That's what Spider-man represents. Not a hero with a multi-million dollar suit, but someone with nothing but their will to save others. Without you taking the suit, I never would've remembered everything Spider-man stood for.; With great power comes great responsibility. You gave me that tough love moment and I needed it. Now it's my turn to dish out some tough love for you." Peter took a deep breath. "You, Tony Stark, are being a fucking idiot. The blame of what happened in the past lies with Adrian Toomes, and Adrian Toomes alone. So stop this self-deprecating bullshit and use your fucking brain for once in your life. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault." Tony looked up at him, the self-hatred drained from his features, a slight smile adorning his lips which Peter returned.

"You're right, kid," Tony said, "when did you get this wise?"

"I've always been this wise, Mr Stark, I just wanted you to feel better about your lack of common sense," Peter joked, Tony chuckling.

"It wasn't my fault," Tony repeated. Peter tilted his head, confused at the strange undertone in Tony's voice only to see a fire lit in his caramel eyes. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

And it was then that he knew he fucked up.

~~~

Step 4. Try some breathing exercises.

Peter had always been shit at breathing exercise. He just didn't have the patience for them. While he was breathing, someone could be getting raped in an alley, a shop could be getting robbed, or a kid could be getting beat up. So - despite the constant reminders to just try the damn breathing exercises for the love of god - Peter had never done anything of the sort. How could he? With his enhanced senses, it was impossible to relax. Would you be able to sit there and breathe while screams rang in your ears and sobbing pounded in your mind? Naturally, this meant that Peter wasn't the most experienced when it came to said breathing exercises. Maybe he should've practised. Life always had a funny way of throwing Peter in the deep end headfirst and tied to a ten ton weight and expecting him to swim. However, he had once read in a self-help book that breathing exercises were good for calming people down, so he decided to hit fuck it for the sixth time in the last 48 hours and try it out. I mean, it was that or release an angry billionaire in a metal suit decked out with the most advanced weapons in the world (except for maybe what HYDRA had because honestly Peter knew better than to underestimate them and he mildly respected their cockroach-like survival skills) who was hell-bent on revenge and gave zero fucks into the world. The second option was beginning to sound quite tempting, Peter would be honest.

"Mr Stark, you need to calm down," Peter told the man gently, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony tilted his head up to look at Peter - rage splashed across his face, tension lining his body - before he shrugged off Peter's hand and jerked into a standing position. And the room was suffocating, suffocating, suffocating, because damn had Tony always been that scary. A cloud of darkness surrounded Tony, filling the lab up and winding itself slowly around Peter's neck, stealing the breath from his lungs. Tony stormed through the lab, footsteps like thunder, anger crackling like lightning. Desperately, Peter followed the billionaire. "Mr Stark, Mr Stark, please calm down," Peter pleaded with him.

"No," Tony spoke, voice cold and flat, tone totally devoid of emotion, so totally opposite to the fury painting his entire body like a second skin. "No I will not calm down, Peter. He dropped a fucking building on you. He deserves to die."

"But you don't deserve to live with the guilt of killing him," Peter begged, tugging at Tony's sleeve in a desperate attempt to stop the man from his warpath. Peter knew he could easily overpower Tony. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. "Trust me, I know how it feels to want revenge, I really do, but you have to let it go. Please, Mr Stark."

"Dammit Peter, he hurt you!" Tony shouted, whirling around to face Peter, features twisted and manically furious. "He hurt you a-and I wasn't there and you had to deal with being crushed by a fucking building and then you got up and kept fighting because of that sick son of a bitch so I swear to fucking god I will murder him." Tony's eyes held a frenzied wildness in them, chest heaving up and down, Peter could hear his heart racing.

"Mr Stark, try some breathing," Peter said out of desperation, completely and utterly out of ideas. "Just breath. In and out, in and out." Tony's momentary surprise shocked him out of his anger, confusion flickering across his face momentarily before the anger was back, stronger than ever. Tony pivoted on his heel and walked away from Peter, heading towards where he kept his suits and leaving a heavy sense of dread pooling in Peter's stomach and twisting his insides in knots. So breathing hadn't worked. Thanks for nothing self-help books.

~~~

Step 5. Hack the most advanced AI in the world.

When in doubt, do something potentially illegal. A mugger had once told Peter that after Peter caught her trying to rob a young man. That lady had been fucking badass. It was honestly a shame she's gone to prison but a criminal is a criminal. Turns out the lady had been responsible for a string of high-end bank and jewellery robberies. Peter wondered how she was doing. Probably not well, considering how shit the American jail system is. Peter always tried to find alternative ways to stop criminals, only really sending in the pedophiles, rapists, murderers and the more professional robbers. Sometimes people had no choice in the shitty hand life had dealt them and goddamn if Peter didn't get that. People were just pushed and pushed until they were left with nothing but desperation. Maybe if the government or any of the fucking American systems were better or did their jobs properly then people wouldn't have to steal just to keep themselves and their families from starvation. Maybe Toomes wouldn't have started his alien tech business and then none of this would have even happened. Peter wouldn't be in this situation right now. And Peter was now out of options. He had an angry billionaire on his hands and absolutely no idea what to do. So, he took the lady's advice and decided to do something potentially illegal. He hacked the most advance AI in the world. (What, like it's hard?)

"Hey FRI?" Peter called with a wince.

"Yes, Peter," the AI replied.

"I'm really sorry," Peter told her before bringing up FRIDAY's code. (A/N - I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT COMPUTERS SO THIS IS GONNA BE SOME VAGUE, QUESTIONABLE AF HACKING) Fingers flying across the keys of the laptop, Peter bit his lip in concentration, brows furrowed. He had to hurry and shut down Mr Stark's suits before he reached them and left to murder Toomes. Adrenaline coursed through his body, brain whirring to life like the computer before him as he deleted lines of code, rewriting and altering the code that created FRIDAY as he tore down the firewalls Mr Stark had built. Peter vaguely registered that this was probably illegal and that Mr Stark would most definitely be mad about this later but he quickly waved the thoughts away. He didn't have time for them, he didn't have time, he didn't have time. Barely registering what he was doing, Peter submerged himself into the world of numbers, immersing himself completely in the ocean of lines of code, fingers instinctively knowing what t do as though he'd been born to hack. Again, probably not a great thing that this was so easy. But computers had always made sense to Peter. After what felt like hours but was really only a few minutes, Peter was into FRIDAY's system. And with a few taps, Peter shut down the suits. Quickly exiting the browser, Peter dropped his head into his hands. He'd done it. With a long exhale, Peter relaxed, leaning back into his chair and running his shaking hands through his hair. An enraged roar broke the peaceful quiet surrounding Peter and he squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe if he ignored it, Mr Stark's anger would go away. He couldn't deal with this shit. Peter was too young to die.

"Peter Benjamin Parker I swear to fucking god-"

"You probably shouldn't fuck god, Mr Stark," Peter couldn't resist remarking with a shit-eating grin. "People might get a bit mad. And who knows, you may even end up pregnant which I can't imagine will be very fun."

"What the fuck?" Tony whispered into the silence that followed Peter's statement. "I don't even want to know what goes on in your brain." Peter hummed in agreement. To be honest, he had no idea what was going on up there half the time. He was just along for the ride. And hey, if it distracted Mr Stark from his anger then it was a win win situation right? (How Peter won in this scenario he didn't know but he didn't question it).

"It's the trauma," Peter replied flippantly, as casual as one would be if they were discussing the weather.

"The-" Tony broke off into angry, confused gibberish that Peter didn't even try to decipher. Crisis averted. Now to deal with the aftermath.

~~~

Step 6. Watch a movie.

Peter Parker wasn't good with emotions. Being a socially awkward sixteen-year-old genius had that effect on a person. Not to mention the fact that he had a crime-fighting, sarcastic alter ego. Yeah, he wasn't great with feelings. Especially not his own. And now he was attempting to help Mr Stark clam down after the whole Toomes-dropping-a-building-on-him-reveal thing. And the only way an emotionally stunted teenage genius superhero knew how to help an emotionally stunted adult genius superhero was something most people would not class as a healthy coping mechanism. Distraction. Preferably with a movie.

"Hey Mr Stark, wanna watch Empire Strikes Back?" Peter asked. Tony fell into a confused silence which Peter took as an agreement. "Yes? Perfect, let's go." Grabbing Tony's arm, Peter tugged him out of the lab and into the elevator, confusion splashed across Tony's features as they entered the movie room. Peter dropped onto the expensive yet incredibly comfortable couch in the centre of the room, pulling Tony down beside him. "Hey FRI? Can you please play The Empire Strikes Back."

"Certainly, Peter," FRIDAY replied, a hint of warmth in her robotic voice. The Star Wars theme filled the room, Peter lips kicking up into a smile at the familiar sound. And as the movie played, Peter reciting every single line with the characters, he felt the rage and tension slowly drain out of his mentor as he relaxed.

"Hey, kid," Tony whispered, interrupting Luke and Darth Vader's showdown. "I sorry for getting angry. I just... I just didn't know what to do. Instead of asking if you were okay I blamed myself and wanted to frigging murder a guy who's already suffering in prison."

"It's okay, Mr Stark," Peter responded with a smile, sincerity gracing his tone. "I get it. After Ben died, I found his murderer. I almost killed the guy," Peter chuckled without humour, Tony watching him with sad eyes, the movie forgotten. "Point is, I know how it feels to want revenge. Don't apologise for being human."

"You really are the best of us all, kid," Tony remarked, a smile adoring his face, features relaxed as he looked at Peter.

"I learned from the best," Peter replied with a shrug.

"Thanks, kid," Tony said, throat tight with emotion.

"I meant May," Peter joked lightly, the heavy emotion clouding the room vanishing as Tony laughed.

"Are you okay, kid?" Tony asked, seriousness settling over them again.

"Honestly?" Peter responded, "no. But that's alright. Because I will be." Peter held Tony's gaze, warmth blossoming in his chest at his mentor's caring eyes, as Darth Vader's voice filled the room.

"No, I am your father," Darth Vader spoke. Peter turned back to the movie, watching as Luke jumped and fell.

"You're gonna be okay, kid," Tony whispered, "we're both gonna be okay."

Because Peter would be okay. So Tony was okay too.

And if Pepper walked in three hours later to find them curled up against each other, fast asleep she never said anything. (She got FRIDAY to take a photo and saved it to Irondad and Spiderson - an unsurprisingly large file. She should probably get Peter to do a DNA test. They did look rather similar)

#fanfic #peter parker #spider-man #iron man #irondad #father-son #pepper potts #unhealed trauma #marvel #the avengers #spider son #bamf peter parker #tired dad Tony #tony stark #aunt may

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helnjk · 4 years ago

Text

A Change of Scenery - C.W.

Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Requested: yes!

omg hi! I just saw the fanart of the oldest Weasley brothers(🥵🥵🥵) and was hoping you could do a Charlie x reader thing? Maybe the reader is a healer at the sanctuary and Charlie doesn't mind getting hurt because he gets to see her but she literally has no idea he adores her till he spells it out. With promt 42 of your list maybe? Totally cool if you want to leave it out 😁 love you and your work! -🍄

“what the hell were you thinking?”

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: moving to romania for your absolute dream job, you did not expect to meet a cheeky, flirty redhead along the way.

Warnings: mentions of injuries, food, & drinks. charlie is a dragon tamer, reader is a healer, of course he’s going to end up with a few cuts and bruises.

A/N: god i love charlie weasley with all of my heart. that is all.

prompt is in bold

Being connected to and living somewhere very in tune with the earth had always been a dream of yours. It just so happened that your new job had you transferred to the perfect place: Romania.

Sure, it was quite far from England and had quite a different culture, but the beauty of the mountains and the picturesque scenery made up for it. The fact that you were also working in one of the best medical wings in the country, on a dragon reserve on top of that, was basically your dream come true.

“Alright, and this right here is your station,” announced the head healer, who insisted you call him Gerry, gesturing to a decently sized office space. “You can decorate it anyway you like, as long as it’s appropriate. Most of the folks around here aren’t locals either, so we’ve got loads of photos up and lots of owls coming in and out everyday.”

“It’s perfect,” you grinned.

Gerry left you alone to get settled, and you didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but the first thing you did once he was out of earshot was to squeal excitedly and do a little happy dance.

It was just all too exciting, really. Dream job, dream location, dream view even. After your burst of excitement, you spent a bit of time just staring out of the window, taking in everything. In the distance, you could even see the silhouette of a dragon peeking over the canopy of trees. The fact that this was going to be a regular occurrence just spurred even more delight in your heart.

Later in the day, after most of the introductions were made and tours were finished, you could be found familiarizing yourself with the medical wing of the sanctuary.

“C’mon Gerry, I’m completely fine!” you heard a gruff voice complain. It was coming from the hallway outside, but the accompanying footsteps sounded as if they were on the way to the wing.

“You know it’s protocol, Weasley,” a very amused Gerry replied as they rounded the corner.

Beside your boss was one of the most gorgeous men you had ever laid eyes on. With wind ruffled hair the color of sunsets and lightly tanned skin, you almost didn’t notice the small, almost inconspicuous limp he was sporting. It also took you a few seconds to realize that he was probably one of the dragon tamers of the reserve, the first one you were going to meet and treat, it seemed.

“Ah, Healer L/N, perfect!” Gerry called out to you, “This is Charlie Weasley, one of our on-site dragon tamers.”

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled, holding out his hand for you to shake.

“You too,” you said in reply, trying not to think about how warm and calloused his hand was in yours.

“His leg got swiped by the tail of a Chinese Fireball,” Gerry explained as he motioned to the leg that Charlie wasn’t putting much of his weight on.

You could see the redhead roll his eyes, “Honestly, I’ll be fine! This has happened more times than you know.”

Despite his best efforts, both you and Gerry managed to get Charlie to take a seat on one of the beds that lined the wall. With a sigh, he rolled up his trousers just enough for you to see the area of the wound.

“Lucky for you, treating this doesn’t take much time,” you smiled. Swiftly, you took your wand out and muttered the correct incantation, “There. Good as new!”

“If I get to be under the care of Ms. L/N here, I wouldn’t mind getting injured more often,” he flirted, sending you a cheeky wink.

Gerry just guffawed a loud belly laugh, patting Charlie on the shoulder fondly, “Don’t you go running off with one of my best healers now, Weasley. We just got her!”

“Don’t worry, Gerry,” you smiled, “I think this one’s too injury-prone to run anywhere.”

–

As the last work day of your first week at the reserve was coming to an end, you were surprised to see Charlie Weasley knocking on the open door to your office.

“Hey,” you said, sending him a small smile.

“Hey,” he parroted, stepping inside.

“Anything I can help you with?” you asked over your shoulder while putting away the last of your files and slipping out of your healer robes, “You’re not injured again are you?”

Behind you, Charlie gulped as he saw the little sundress you wore underneath. His head spun at the sight of your exposed legs and he nearly forgot what he was about to say.

“Nah I’ve got a better track record than that, thankfully,” he chuckled. Doing his best to keep the calm facade he had going on, he leant against the doorframe as he asked, “Got any plans tonight? I was wondering if you’d fancy getting a bite to eat.”

You were caught off guard by how nonchalant and straightforward his invitation was.

“Is this your way of asking me on a date?” you asked, finally turning around to face him once again.

He raised an eyebrow, “Do you want it to be? Because I just wanted to be a nice person and show you around Romania, but if you’re looking for a date…”

“Oh shut it, Weasley,” you groaned, “The tab is on you tonight, then.”

Charlie sent you a grin as you strode out of your office. Despite your faux-annoyance, you were happy to have someone show you around. Being a healer was your dream job, but it did have some setbacks. Obviously, you were needed at the medical wing of the reserve for the majority of the week and that didn’t give you much time to familiarize yourself with the town and the people.

Because of how remote the reserve was, most staff and employees lived on site. There was a designated area for the many different cabins and living quarters. To give you more of a tour of the little Romanian town nearest the reserve, Charlie offered to side-along apparate you.

You could feel heat creep up your neck and spread along your cheeks as you gripped firmly on to his muscular arm.

The sun was just about to set and cast gorgeous hues of orange and pink across the sky as the two of you landed just outside the town. Charlie led you along, showing you where the most important areas were; you saw the town square, the little street bazaars, and the most popular eating places.

By the time the pair of you got to one of his favorite restaurants, a quaint little place in one of the sidestreets, your cheeks were sore from laughing too much. After the initial awkwardness as you tried to navigate topics that interested the both of you, you found yourselves chatting away animatedly.

“Yeah, Fred and George were an absolute nightmare when they were little,” he chuckled, fondly recalling the many times he and his older brother Bill were left to babysit their younger siblings, “But they’re great. They’ve got a shop in Diagon Alley now, selling prank products of all things. It’s wild.”

“Your family sounds absolutely lovely,” you said. It warmed your heart seeing how his eyes lit up talking about them. “It must be so hard being so far away from everyone.”

He nodded slightly before taking a sip of his drink, “Definitely. My first year here was such a big transition. I’m lucky I get to go home every so often.”

There was a lull in the conversation as you dug into your food, but it was far from the awkward silence you were expecting.

Maybe working in Romania wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

–

“Why is it that when you get hurt, I’m always the healer on call?” you sighed playfully as Charlie walked through the door of the medical wing.

It was the fourth week in a row he had to come and get something patched up. They weren’t major injuries, thankfully, but you had come to learn that the dragon tamers were required to know how to perform the basic healing spells. The things Charlie would come in for were almost always resolved with a quick episkey.

“You know me,” he joked, taking a seat on one of the empty beds, “Always so accident prone.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes.

Still, with your wand in hand, you gestured for him to show you where the injury was.

“I’ve got two things today,” he began. You raised your eyebrows in response. “This is the first.”

Charlie quickly rolled the sleeve of his top, his toned arm flexing at the movement. In all the time you had worked at the reserve, which wasn’t that long at all, you still hadn’t gotten used to how fit he was. A quick intake of breath had you re-centering and focusing on the task at hand. There was a small burn on his forearm, not enough to cause too much concern.

You cast the charm quickly so as not to be distracted further, “There, all done.”

“There’s still one more place that’s hurt Y/N.”

By the way Charlie spoke, you knew he was up to something. Inwardly you sighed, “Alright, let’s get to it then.”

Your heart seemed to stop as he began to unbutton the first few buttons of his top.

“What’re you doing, Weasley?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure as you got a peek of his very toned chest.

With a dramatic sigh, Charlie leant back and pointed to an area above his chest, “My heart hurts, Y/N.”

For a moment you just stared at him, looking absolutely ridiculous in the position he chose to don, eyes blinking owlishly. Truthfully, you didn’t know whether to laugh or to send the strongest stinging hex in his direction.

“Charlie Weasley, you thank Merlin and Morgana right now that I’m not hexing your balls off,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I’m being serious, Y/N!” he continued, “I don’t know if I’ll survive this!”

“Pity, does that mean I’m losing my ticket to free weekly meals?” she joked, already turning on her heel to get back to what she had been doing before he entered the wing.

There were sounds of shuffling as if Charlie had gotten back up on his feet again and then, “Definitely not! I’m banking on those meals, one of these days you’re going to be begging me for an actual date. You’ll see.”

“Keep dreaming, Weasley.”

You sent the redheaded dragon tamer a sarcastic smile, but he just sent you a flirty wink in reply.

–

“Code white. Need extra hands in the medical wing ASAP.”

The shimmering white bloodhound soon dissolved into nothing as it delivered its message to you, early one morning. You had just gotten to work, not even in your healer's robes yet, when Gerry’s patronus appeared.

As you rushed to the medical wing, another patronus made an appearance and rattled off what had happened and who was hurt. Your heart dropped the moment you heard who you were going to be treating.

“Oh Merlin,” you whispered to yourself the moment you saw the state Charlie was in, “What did you get yourself into?”

In all the time you had been working at the reserve and as a healer in general, it was not unusual for you to treat severe injuries. In fact, you liked to think that when you were faced with someone’s life or quality of life in your hands, you worked even harder and smarter. However, seeing Charlie more battered and bruised than you had ever seen him made your heart pound loudly in your chest.

“Healer L/N, you’re right on time,” Gerry spoke to you clearly, rapidly explaining the situation and what you needed to do.

In a flash, you had your wand out and were muttering all the healing spells that came to mind alongside your head healer. You didn’t notice how you were holding your breath and clenching your wandless hand until you let out a sigh of relief when Charlie began to stir.

“He’s stable,” Gerry announced and released a breath.

You felt a soft pat on your shoulder as he left you to deal with the patient, deeming it alright for him to step out and get back to his other responsibilities. Carefully, you walked towards the redhead whose eyes were fluttering open.

“What the hell were you thinking, Weasley?” you murmured softly, your wand sweeping over him one last time to check is vitals. A soft hand reached out to push the stray strands of hair that had fallen in front of his face and you felt him lean into your touch.

“Y/N?” Charlie mumbled, his eyes still half-closed.

“I’m right here,” you said in reply.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to prop himself up but groaning in pain.

“What happened,” you began, going to help him get to the seated position he wanted to be in. He smiled up at you and you could barely remember what you were trying to say. With a small shake of your head and clearing of your throat you continued, “What happened was that you were being an absolute idiot who absolutely did not call for backup when a nesting mother was going on a rampage.”

Despite his obvious discomfort, Charlie had the audacity to chuckle slightly, “Sounds about right.”

“Don’t you dare do that to me again, Weasley,” you admonished, pulling back and shooting him the dirtiest stare you could muster. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. When I got Gerry’s patronus, all I could think about was–”

As if an electric jolt shocked you, you cut yourself off before anything else escaped your lips.

“Was what, Y/N?” he asked softly.

His eyes were shining with something you couldn’t quite name, but the sincerity in his face gave you pause.

You shook your head, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Instead of continuing to reprimand him for his foolishness, you busied yourself making sure he was comfortable and that everything was alright. The potions he needed to take later in the day and the different salves to be applied to his skin were placed on the bedside table. Pillows were summoned, fluffed, and placed behind him.

As you shuffled around the room, purposely ignoring the redhead, his eyes were trained on you.

The moment his eyes opened and he felt your hand brush gently across his face, he thought he had to have been dreaming. If it weren’t for the ache in his muscles and the sting of his burns, he would’ve believed that he was in some alternate reality wherein he woke up next to you every morning.

He was tired of waiting for his fantasies to come true, he decided.

“Y/N.”

The way he said your name sent shivers down your spine. Your whole body froze for a microsecond before you turned to face him.

“Yeah, Charlie?”

“Look at me please,” he begged.

With a deep breath, your eyes locked with his and you were almost blown away with the look on his face.

Sincerity pooled in his eyes as they scanned your face, trying to see if your own expression gave anything away. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move or look away from him.

“Tell me what you were thinking,” he whispered gently.

It was now or never.

“All I could think about was how,” you gulped, taking a steadying breath, “How you could’ve died or gotten so hurt, when I hadn’t even had the chance to tell you how I felt about you.”

You could hear Charlie’s sharp intake of breath and you had to look away, unable to face the rejection you were ultimately going to hear.

“Y/N–”

“And, and I know that you don’t feel the same–”

“Y/N–”

“But, just seeing you lying there–”

“Y/N!”

Charlie’s voice rang through the whole wing, a sharp contrast to the otherwise silent space. You sucked in a deep breath, surprised.

“Y/N you have to know I’m absolutely mad for you,” he said clearly.

You blinked furiously at him.

“You-I, what?”

Charlie tried to reposition himself so that he could face you properly, but you could see that he was still in a bit of pain. Instead of letting him maneuver himself uncomfortably, you placed a soft hand on his shoulder before taking a seat by his legs.

Immediately, he went to take your hand in his. “I think you’re absolutely breathtaking, and talented, and passionate. I just haven’t had the balls to ask you out on a real date.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Weasley?” You offered him a small smile, glancing back down at your intertwined hands.

The smile he sent you left you breathless.

–

“You ready to go?” Charlie asked, leaning against the doorframe with his legs crossed just like when he had visited your office that first week.

A small grin inched its way on to your face at the sight of your boyfriend. His hair was just a tad bit windswept, adding to the rugged look he insisted he could pull off (and he definitely did, you just didn’t like feeding his ego too much).

“Just about,” you smiled. “Let me get out of these stuffy robes first.”

And, just like the first time he had knocked on the door to your office, you turned to shrug off your uniform and hang it up in one of the hooks beside your desk. Instead of keeping his thoughts to himself, Charlie grinned widely and whistled at the sight of you in your dress.

Just as you were about to chide him for being inappropriate, strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards. A small ‘oof’ escaped your lips as your back made contact with Charlie’s strong chest.

“Charlie!” you slapped his arm lightly, “C’mon, I’m still at work!”

“What so I can’t show my girlfriend some appreciation for being absolutely drop dead gorgeous?” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses on the joint where your neck met your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, “You know I love a good compliment. I would just rather you do it outside my place of work.”

With a chuckle, Charlie released his grip on your waist. “Alright, alright.”

“Just for that, the tab’s on you tonight, Weasley.”

“Ah so the usual, love?”

“Of course.”

Charlie held his hand out for you to take, and unlike the first time he took you out, you allowed yourself to blush, take his calloused hand in yours, and press a soft kiss on his lips.

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @sarcasticallywitty15 @lumos-barnes @cruciostyles @writingsomewrongs

Charlie taglist: @pinkypurplemagic @lifeofkaze @oldschoolkiddo

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley imagines #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley fics #charlie weasley fic #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x y/n #tw injury #tw food #tw meal mention

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sketching-shark · 3 years ago

Note

LMK fandom: Oh, what do we do about this guy who has nothing but hurt Xiaotian, tried to replace Sun Wukong and his crew, hurt Tripitaka and ordered servants to cannibalize a monkey? Oh I know! We’ll turn him into our little meow meow~ he’s so innocent and Sun Wukong is obviously the villain!

What doesn’t help is this idea is perpetuated by multiple fan fic writers and artists for some reason. Especially some aus they make that turn SWK into a bastard for the sake of the story rather than considering cultural context and thinking they should be respectful.

And almost everyone lets them get away with it just because the art or fanfic is good and they get so popular that no one can point what is actually wrong without feeling like they’re going to get attacked.

I'm starting to feel like my blog is the one anons go to specifically to vent their frustrations about the Six Eared Macaque in his lego monkey show form & the associated fandom lmao. But I guess this makes sense, as I’ve had fun quasi-dragging him before & will in fact use this anon submission as an opportunity to have my own, to put it academically, bitch fest about not just this fandom's favorite protagonist-traumatizing meow meow, but about the way villains are often treated in not just fanon, but increasingly in canon works as well. But same policy as with the last anon; I'll post my opinions below the cut, and as fandoms love to say, don’t like don't read if you don't want to see me dunking on the six eared simian & common fandom tendencies towards villains.

Oh man I would say where would you even begin with this but anon you’ve pretty much started yourself with my main gripe with a lot of ways that the Six-Eared Macaque is portrayed in fandom; there seems to be this unspoken agreement that his acts of violence towards Sun Wukong, Qi Xioatian, and Qi Xioatian’s loved ones are either to be framed as somewhat or totally justified, to be immediately forgiven/excused, or to simply & completely be ignored. Like friends maybe this is just me not seeing the proper posts but while the fandom is inundated with art and fanfics of Macaque as a generally decent individual & a true member of team good guy, I have yet to see one person address the fact that this monkey literally kidnapped & mind-controlled Xiaotian’s best friend and father figures & forced them to brutalize Xiaotian while ol’ Six Ear looked on and laughed (X_X). Like this kind of fandom villain treatment is definitely not something that’s solely at work for Monkie Kid, but it is kind of nutty how fandoms will swing between yelling that people should be allowed to like villains without even mild critique, and then will just flat-out not address the villainous behavior, and will even bend over backwards to frame even characters who committed genocide as just poor innocent widdle victims who need a hug. At its worst, I’ve even seen tons of people in a fandom get really angry at other people who don’t like a villain, and will even start accusing those people of hating real-life mentally disabled or abused individuals all because they don’t like the fandom’s favorite literal war criminal. The Monkie Kid fandom is FAR more chill & better than a lot of other fandoms I’ve come across in that regard, but that is an exceedingly low bar, & the tendency to woobify certain kinds of villains-- as with Macaque and the extreme emphasis on his bad boy/sad boy thing--is very much at work.

I’ve also talked before about a kind of monoculturalization of certain character interpretations and story beats in fandoms, and one of the more popular ones that seems to be applied to Macaque a lot is the “hero actually bad, villain actually good” cliche, as observable from the general fandom assumption that Mr. Six-Ears he wasn’t even slightly lying or remembering things through a rose-tinted or skewed lens when he gave his version of his and Sun Wukong’s past. Like at this point it seems the possibility that people WILL NOT even consider is that Sun Wukong never did & still doesn't care that much about the Six Eared Macaque (in JTTW they weren’t sworn brothers & in Monkie Kid the only thing the monkey king really said to Macaque before attacking him was a pretty contemptuous "Aren't you ever going to get sick of living under my shadow?," & responds to his "beloved friend" getting blown up with "You did good, bud" to Qi Xiaotian, who did the exploding), or that their original fight may in fact have mostly been instigated by Macaque. After all, to repeat what this anon summarized & what I've said before about their original JTTW context (& in an example of the things that do feel like it's often lost in translation) is that the Six Ear Macaque was a villain not just because he beat up the Tang Monk, but because he wanted to take over Sun Wukong's entire life and identity so he could have all that glory, prestige, and power for himself. To quote the macaque himself from the Anthony C. Yu translation, "I struck the T'ang monk and I took the luggage...precisely because I want to go to the West all by myself to ask Buddha for the scriptures. When I deliver them to the Land of the East, it will be my success and no one else's. Those people of the South Jambudvipa Continent will honor me then as their patriarch and my fame will last for all posterity." And in order to do this, the Six Eared Macaque had apparently made Sun Wukong's "little ones," his monkey family, his captives through either trickery or force, and gotten a number of them to take on the appearance of Tang Sanzang and the other pilgrims. It's also made clear that in very direct contrast to Sun Wukong, he doesn't care about these monkeys beyond how they might serve him. In fact, after Sha Wujing kills the monkey posing as him the Six Eared Macaque not only all but immediately replaces him with another, but also "told his little ones to have the dead monkey skinned. Then his meat was taken to be fried and served as food along with coconut and grape wines." So this monkey is not only willing to risk the lives of a lot of other monkeys for his own personal benefit, but is also a literal cannibal. And yes yes, I know a lot of people have argued that Monkie Kid shouldn't be considered a direct sequel to JTTW & that's fair enough (for example, Sun Wukong probably shouldn't be smashing anyone into a meat patty in a children's cartoon lol). And of course, it needs to be noted that there are a buttload of really out there & really cursed pieces of media based on JTTW & that were created in China. Yet the above description is the oft-ignored in the west original facet of the Six Eared Macaque's character. And it is this selfishness, entitlement, and treatment of other individuals as tools for his own self-serving ends that is, from where I’m standing, still very much present in Monkie Kid. Like besides repeatedly going out of his way to physically and psychologically traumatize Xioatian, with the last episode Macaque seemed to be going right back to his manipulative ways. I’ve seen people frame their last conversation as Macaque softening to Xioatian a little bit, but personally that read a lot more like that common tactic among abusers where even after they’ve hurt you they’ll dangle something you want or need over your head (in Macaque’s case, the promise of desperately needed training and information about a serious looming threat), with the implication that you’ll only get it if you do what they want you to, such as, in this case, Xioatian going back to Macaque as his student even after having been so terribly hurt by this monkey, which would give Macaque power over Xiaotian and probably Sun Wukong as a result. And it is this violence and manipulation that it seems the fandom at large has tacitly decided shouldn’t even be addressed, instead leaning more towards a (and this is an exaggeration) “Six-Eared Macaque my poor meow meow Sun Wukong has always been bad & has always been wrong about literally everything” reading.

And while it is the case that I am not Chinese and feel that as such it would be best left to someone who actually comes from that background to provide more context into how common interpretations of the Six Eared Macaque from China may clash really badly with the stuff the western fandom creates, it also must be noted that, as much as we all want to have fun in fandom & in spite of all the out-there versions of JTTW from China, we westerners should recognize that there is a very long and very ugly history of western countries stripping other cultures’ important religious and literary works for parts & mashing them into their own thing while implying or even insisting that what they present provides a true understanding of the original piece. And while I trust most individuals in regards to Monkie Kid are able to step back and think “this is a lego cartoon and not a set guide for how I should understand JTTW” (especially given the insistence that JTTW and Monkie Kid should be considered there own separate works) there does nevertheless seem to be something of a tendency to take the conclusions people come to, for example, about Sun Wukong’s characteristic in his lego form & then assume that’s just reflective to Sun Wukong as a totality. I imagine a good portion of this is due to people not reading JTTW & especially to not having easy access to solid information or answers about JTTW’s many different facets (like geez awhile ago I was trying to get a clear answer on what is considered the most accurate translation of the names of Sun Wukong’s six sworn brothers & got like 5 different responses lmao), but that tendency to take a western fandom interpretation & run with it instead of doing any background research or questioning said interpretation is still very much at play. As such, & as made prominent in the way people have been interpreting the dynamic between Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque in the lego monkey show, tbh it does seem kind of shitty for western creators & audience to sometimes go really out of their way to ignore all of this original cultural & narrative context for the sake of Angst (TM) in Macaque's favor, demonizing Sun Wukong, and shipping the monkey king with his evil twin (X_X).

And speaking of which, even beyond the potential inherent creepiness & revulsion that can be inspired by this specific ship given common interpretations of the og classic's original meaning (again, it's my understanding, given both summaries of translated Chinese academic texts I've been kindly provided with, my own reading of the Anthony C. Yu translation of JTTW, & vents from a number of Chinese people I've seen on this site, that the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China as having originated from Sun Wukong himself as a living embodiment of his worst traits, hence why only Buddha can tell the difference between them & why the monkey king is much more slow to violence after he kills the macaque), I'd argue that in the face of all the uwu poor widdle meow meow portrayals lego show Macaque is, especially if you include JTTW's events, still in the role of “Sun Wukong but worse” as he is very much a violent & selfish creep. Like he was basically running around in JTTW wearing a Sun Wukong fursuit, but there he had the sole reason of wanting to replace Sun Wukong wholesale so he could have all the good things in the monkey king's life without actually having to work as hard for them. But if you combine that with Macaque now claiming that he used to be best friend with Sun Wukong in his pre-journey days (something that's made funny from a JTTW context given that that status actually belongs to the Demon Bull King lol), his original violence has now blown into this centuries long and really unhealthy obsession with the monkey king. Like he's apparently gone from wanting to literally be Sun Wukong to being so obsessed with getting revenge on Sun Wukong that he's got basically nothing else going on in his life. Like he's only appeared in two episodes but...does he have any friends? Any family? A career or even a hobby that DOESN'T center the monkey king? Anything at all outside of his "get revenge on and/or kill Sun Wukong/use his successor as my personal punching bag” thing? Like dude! That is extremely creepy and extremely bad for everyone all around! As I’ve said before, this seeming refusal to see beyond the past or to do something that doesn’t involve Sun Wukong in some capacity is a trait that makes Macaque an interesting and somewhat tragic villain--he even seems to be working as Sun Wukong’s reflection in a mirror darkly, with lego show Sun Wukong pretty clearly not being able to heal from his own past which is hinted to be defined by one loss after another, and with Monkie Kid even kind of having these two characters somewhat follow their JTTW characterizations in that in the latter half of the journey Sun Wukong often gets sad & starts crying in the face of what seems insurmountable odds (& Monkie Kid Sun Wukong does seem to be hiding some serious depression behind a cheerful facade), whereas the Six-Eared Macaque retains a worse version of Sun Wukong’s pre-journey characteristic of getting pissed and lashing out if things don’t go his way--but it’s also what would make any current friendship or romantic relationship between these monkeys horrific. Although to be fair even the fandom seems to recognize this in an unconscious way, in that a lot of the art & fanfic seems to swing erratically between them kissing & screaming at each other in yet another example of bog-standard fandom adulation of romanticized toxic relationships lol.

At the end of the day, of course, this is nothing new. You'll find versions of this dynamic across a ton of fandoms and now even canonical work. And as such, I can only look at this kind of popularized relationship dynamic with a kind of resigned weariness whenever it pops up, & my frustrated question with the popularity of this kind of pairing is the exact same one that I have for a multitude of blatantly toxic villain/hero ships, given common fandom discourse & the tendency to either ignore or justify the villain's actions & demonize the hero: if you're THAT convinced that everything is the hero's fault, if you believe THAT much that the hero is the one in the wrong for the villain's pain and their subsequent actions, then why are you so set on them not only becoming a romantic pair, but framing this get-together as a good thing? Like I know we contain multitudes but that's waaay too many contradictions for me to wrap my head around. And it definitely doesn’t help that one branch of underlying reasoning behind this kind of pairing seems to be the ever-present “you break it, you fix it” mentality, where the assumption is that if you’re in a failing, abusive, and/or generally toxic relationship (platonically or romantically), if you put in enough time and effort & attempts to compromise, you’ll be able to restore/have the relationship you dreamed of, even with someone who hurt you really badly. And this assumption isn’t limited to fandom: I’d even argue that it’s everywhere in the culture, hence why a lot of people feel like they “failed” if they have to get a divorce or make the choice to leave an unhealthy friendship. Personally, I feel like people could really benefit from more stories about how it is not only the case that the people you hurt don’t owe you their forgiveness & you can still become a better and happier person without the one you hurt in your life, & that while it can be really hard it can also be a good thing to leave a relationship, even if it’s one that once meant a lot to you.

But in all honestly, from my own perspective this kind of pairing is starting to read far less like enemies to lovers and far more like a horrible fantasy where you can pull whatever shit you want, even on the people you "love," & never be held accountable for your terrible behavior or even have to consider that maybe you were in the wrong. It's another facet that makes me larf every time I see people insist that fandom is an inherently "transformative" or "progressive" form of storytelling like friends you are literally just taking status quo toxic monogamy & rebranding it as somehow beneficial & romantic (X_X).

But as to anon’s last frustration, it is hard to know what is the appropriate response with this kind of thing...like for my own part I’m keeping my frustrations to my blog & now increasingly to posts that you would have to click on the “read more” button to see what I have to say, but I totally get the hesitation to give even a mild critique to big names in a fandom. Like I've now seen it happen repeatedly where someone who has a big name in a fandom will make something that's kind of shitty for one reason or another, someone will message them with some version of "hey, that's kind of shitty, you shouldn't do that," and the typical response is either to blatantly ignore the issue completely, or more popularly to make a giant crying circus that seems deliberately geared towards stoking emotions on both sides of the, for example, fiction does/doesn't affect reality issue so that something that didn't even have to be that big a deal gets blown out of all proportion, with the big name often framing what often started out as a very mild critique into a long crying jag about how the initial response to their kind of shitty thing was so mean/cruel and they're just a poor innocent & that YOU'RE the true racist/sexist/bigot etc. if you don't agree with their opinion. It must of course be noted that there have also been numerous instances of people taking it too far the other way & sending not just big names but smaller creators literal deaths threats over stuff like innocuous ships which like holy hell bells people that’s a horrible thing to do. But for the big names at least, the end result of all this fighting is usually that once the dust has settled they have more attention/fame/money/power in the fandom than before, and with anyone who might have a problem with their stuff feeling afraid to voice their opinion lest they be swarmed by that person's fans. In that way fandom does often seem to increasingly be geared towards presenting an “official” fandom perspective about various facets of a piece of media instead of allowing for a multitude of interpretations, and with criticism, no matter its shape or form or how genuinely warranted it may be, being hounded out of existence. I feel like a lot of this could be made less bad if there wasn’t this constant assumption & even drive to think that a different interpretation of or criticism of your favorite work of fiction or your fanwork isn’t a direct claim that you are a thoroughly loathsome individual (& maybe also if people cultivated an enjoyment of learning things about important works from a culture outside their own, even if what you learn clashes with your own initial understandings), but I guess we’ll see if that ever happens.

So these are my general thinks about the Six Eared Macaque’s current fandom meow meow status & some of my bigger gripes with fandom tendencies as a whole. I stand by my idea that the most interesting & beneficial route for Macaque moving forward would be a kind of “redemption without forgiveness from the ones you hurt” arc--as I think was done pretty excellently with the character Grace in Infinity Train--and if for no other reason than gosh dern this monkey really needs to cultivate some sort of identity beyond his “Sun Wukong but worse” persona.

#lmk macaque #monkie kid macaque #6 eared macaque #monkie kid #lmk sun wukong #qi xiaotian #lmk monkey king #sun wukong #monkey king #journey to the west #jttw #fandom criticism #lmk

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years ago

Text

feelings are fatal (17/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,346

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, creepy men

masterlist

a/n: HEYYYYY HAPPY TWO YEAR BLOG BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!

Bucky’s heart was pounding as he finally shook the last of the Hydra goons that had been chasing him, glancing every which way just to double check.

He didn’t feel good about this.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes since the two of you had gotten separated, and he hated it. Granted, he always hated being away from you, had since you were fifteen.

Back then it was because he didn’t trust the Red Room instructors. Now it was because he was in love with you and being away from you made him feel like a part of his heart was missing.

Speed walking towards the entrance of Coney Island, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Pepper’s number.

“Oh, my god, thank god. What the hell is wrong with you?” Pepper demanded angrily of him. “Do neither of you know how to answer your phones? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears. “We had to separate so I could try to lead the bad guys away, but they just… disappeared. I’m heading for our meeting spot now.”

Morgan and a few other kids were babbling in the background about how their day had gotten cut short, but he knew that the littlest Stark would understand better than anyone else once they explained to her.

Pepper was suspiciously quiet for… a long time. A long, long time.

“Pepper?” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking.

There was an unspoken question between them.

What if he’d fucked up?

Should he have stayed with her?

What if they’d gotten to her?

And one that was looming over his head, heavier than ever.

What if he never got to tell you how he felt?

“I’m here,” she said reassuringly.

“What if…” Bucky’s heart cracked inside of his chest. His throat was closing up with each passing second, his flesh palm sweaty. Keeping his grip on his cell phone was becoming a challenge. “What if I n-never g-get to tell her h-how I feel?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“God, I’m so fucking stupid,” he cursed as he made his way to the aquarium. His eyes flickered around the crowd, almost hoping he’d see the two women from earlier. They would’ve recognized you and might’ve seen you.

But there was no sign of them.

“Those fucking special skills or whatever would really come in fucking handy right now,” he cursed. With the way people were parting like the Red Sea in front of him, he knew he probably had his less-than-friendly expression on.

His Murder Face, as you called it.

Or his Resting Bitch Face, according to Sam.

Bucky ran his vibranium hand over his face as he tried not to panic. For one, he hadn’t even gotten to the meeting spot yet. Most likely, you were there waiting for him and he was worrying over nothing. “Tony and Natasha will haunt me forever if I let something happen to her.”

A sigh resounded over the phone. “You didn’t let something happen to her, Bucky. Hell, we don’t even know if something is wrong with her yet. But they both know that you have… you have literally devoted your entire being to taking care of her, protecting her. You did what you thought was the best option in the moment. And maybe… Maybe there was no getting out of that ambush without something happening to one of you.”

Rounding the corner to the tunnel, his heart stopped inside his chest.

You weren’t there.

“Bucky? Bucky? What’s going on? You there? What’s happening?”

It was like the world around him had gone fuzzy, and all he could hear was a ringing in his ears.

You weren’t there.

You weren’t there, and it was all his fault.

He told you to go to the tunnel.

How fucking stupid was he? The tunnel was possibly the worst place he could’ve told you to go to. It’s closed off, a literal tube with water all around you except two very small exits that were easily blocked.

What had he done?

Slumber had come easy for you for once. You were so exhausted, even your bones weary, from dancing all day. And by all day, that meant for over twelve hours because of your sadistic new instructor.

The last one had been… disposed of.

You’d woken at sunrise as usual and gone straight to ballet, only for the instructor to not let you go after the normal three hour class.

The rest of the girls filed out of the dance studio, some glancing back at you in curiosity.

There was no worry in their eyes. It was every girl for themselves these days.

If you thought real hard, you could remember a time when you all looked out for each other. You would braid each other’s hair, give a warning if any of the instructors or Madame B were near. If someone didn’t wake up when they were supposed to, the girls would shake her awake and help her get ready on time.

But that time was no more.

Those that ran the infamous Red Room didn’t like when their… students banded together. Things were better for them when you all hated each other and sought ways to sabotage the others.

It made you more likely to kill during a sparring session, and they only wanted girls who were willing to go all the way.

“Is there something you needed from me, madam?” You asked, your hands folded behind your back, spine straight, your chin high.

Good posture had been beaten into you within a week of arrival.

You didn’t forget a lesson like that anytime soon.

The instructor was new to you girls, though you had been told she wasn’t new to the Red Room. She’d been one of you, once upon a time.

One of the few who had survived to graduation, and then lived long enough after to be brought back as an instructor.

“I’m told you’re a prodigy,” she drawled as she slowly walked towards you, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight ballerina bun much like your own. While all of you girls wore black leotards, hers was a pale lilac, a shimmering rehearsal skirt tied around her waist that swished around her thighs. “That you are Madame B’s new pride and joy… Though, just based on your dancing, there is absolutely nothing to be prideful of. It is a surprise to me that you haven’t been… taken care of.”

The implication was clear.

Just based on that morning’s class, she thought you were bad enough at ballet to be killed.

Was it possible she just wanted you executed now? Was she about to do so?

Even though Madame B would be pissed, there were more girls that they could train. She’d only be upset for so long before she’d have a new prodigy, a new pride and joy.

Before the Soldat would have a new trainee.

Before your Soldat would have a new trainee. All the other Soldats could have all the trainees they wanted, but your Soldat, your Seven… The thought of him training another girl made bile rise up in your throat.

“Do you have pointers for things I could work on, madame?” You asked, shoulders tensing as she circled you. Like a vulture ready to scavenge a dying animal.

“I simply thought I could lend you some extra practice time,” she said, a sickly sweet smile spreading over her lips as she looked you up and down. “And don’t worry about Madame B and your other instructors. I already let them know that I wanted extra time with you today.”

The way she was speaking was setting off alarms in your mind.

“Perfect,” you said clearly, not letting your fear show. The instructors could smell fear and would use it against you until your heart stopped beating.

“Do you know the role of Aurora in the Sleeping Beauty ballet?” She asked, eyes cold. When you nodded, she chuckled. “Good. You’ll be dancing it on pointe, start to finish. Now.”

You were shocked when she then turned and started the music, but you did as she said.

Now, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty is his longest ballet ever, at almost four hours long.

And you danced all of it.

“Below average,” the instructor said, glaring daggers at you. “Again.”

You needed water desperately, your lungs fighting for air as you pretended to be unbothered by having done that by taking slow, even breaths.

But you had to do it again.

And again.

Every time you finished, she gave some comment about how your dancing was shit, how you’d never be good enough.

At this point, you wished she would simply kill you and get it over with. You were exhausted and your muscles felt like they were going to give out at any moment.

“MALEN’KAYA!”

You fell out of your pirouette in your shock, gasping as your ankle twisted and you fell to the ground. “Fuck!”

Your Soldat stormed into the dance studio as you looked up, eyes wide.

When had he gotten back? He’d been on a mission for the past few days, and fuck, you’d missed him something fierce.

“Soldat,” the instructor breathed out as she stopped moving, staring up at him with blue eyes. “Remember me?”

“Yes,” he said, glaring at her like she was a pile of dog shit he’d stepped in.

She moved towards him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “I was hoping to see—” She was cut off as he raised his hands to hold her face. The harsh woman looked so… soft for him. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“No,” he snarled, his voice dropping almost an octave. “You should’ve thought twice before touching my malen’kaya.”

The light that had been in her eyes when she first saw him quickly disappeared as she realized she was totally, and utterly, fucked.

Your heart caught in your throat as he so easily twisted her head, a loud snap ringing through the air. He let her limp, lifeless body fall to the ground with a thump before turning and rushing to you. The darkness that had been in his face was long gone as he pulled you close, his hands running over you to try to find sources of injuries.

It took you a moment to realize he was speaking, your ears ringing as you stared at the dead woman on the ground.

“—you okay? What the hell happened? Who allowed this?” He asked, talking a mile a minute as he checked over you. Once he finally got to your pointe shoes, he took in a shaky breath. “I have to check,” he said as he reached for the pink ribbons tied around your ankles.

In the two years since you’d known him, you’d never seen his hands shake like they were.

Your eyes locked in on his face, his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed, as he tentatively untied one of your pointe shoes. He slowly slipped it off, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at your foot. It was only when the second one came off that you finally looked at the damage.

Well… You were sure your feet could have looked much worse after dancing for over twelve hours, but… It still wasn’t pretty.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you lied, trying to soothe him.

He was usually much more composed than this, his face harder.

Even when he was feeling a bit nicer, a bit softer, it was nothing like this.

The Soldat shook his head, looking absolutely pissed. “You don’t have to lie. Never lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted. “But that might be because right now, they’re numb, so I can’t feel anything at all from about my ankles down. But that does mean I didn’t lie.”

You were attempting to joke with him, lighten up the mood a bit. However, he definitely didn’t seem to be taking the bait.

When you glanced over at the windows, for some reason you were surprised to see how late it was. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he drawled as he scooped you up, leaving your pointe shoes behind as he carried you to the locker room. The man was somehow almost completely silent as he set you on a bench and grabbed a first aid kit out of what seemed to be thin air, before gently cleaning away the blood.

Water was dripping somewhere in the locker room, the droplets hitting the tiled floor with soft clinks.

“You were gone,” you whispered, eyes trained on his face. He was still so handsome, even with the frown lines that were starting to appear. Not that you could blame him, everything he’d been through would more than warrant a few wrinkles. “You were gone so long…”

The Soldat’s eyes were soft, despite being the color of the ice that coated the windows. “I know… I can’t stand being away from you, but if I didn’t go… They’d find some way to punish me.” His rough flesh hand cupped your cheek. “And I think they’re starting to catch on that the best way to punish me would be through you, malen’kaya.”

For a second, you thought he was gonna kiss you. From the way his eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again, you could’ve sworn on your life.

But then he took in a deep breath.

And his hand left your cheek.

You tried to push down the disappointment that welled up in your throat, biting your lip.

“Come on, malen’kaya,” he said as he finished wrapping up your poor feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The other girls were already sleeping when he carried you into your room, each one of them with a single wrist handcuffed to the bed frame.

“Hate knowing that you’re locked here all night,” Soldat said, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he approached the only empty bed in the room. “It’s like… putting a lark in a cage. I don’t like it.”

“I know,” you said. “But… It’s just how it is.” You looked up at him with bright eyes as he laid you down and tucked the blanket in around you, making sure you were nice and cozy before he took your left wrist and cuffed it to the metal frame.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, brushing his metal fingers along your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Oh, God…

Everything hurt…

Why did everything hurt?

It was like your head had been shoved under water, but your eyes were too heavy to open.

“—gotta take the video and send it.”

“How do we know he’ll come?”

“Oh, he’ll come. He’ll always come for her.”

Who was that? The voices sounded vaguely familiar, but not quite.

“His precious malen’kaya.”

You slipped back into unconsciousness even as you fought the darkness coming over you, slumping down again.

The clock ticked obnoxiously loud as you sat in the diner booth, your knee pulled up to your chest. A cold cup of half-drank coffee was sitting on the table in front of you.

You’d been waiting over an hour for him to show.

The lunch rush had come and gone, and the waitresses—in their rockabilly uniforms and roller skates—were shooting you pitying looks.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you huffed as you got to your feet and slammed a crisp twenty dollar bill on the vinyl table top. “He asks me on a fucking date and then doesn’t fucking show. How fucking typical.”

It had only been two days since the mission where he’d asked you out on a date. Your ankle was wrapped, and you were under strict orders to rest.

So, of course, you’d dragged yourself out to this diner that he insisted on taking you to.

Well, meeting you at since you really, really didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of riding in the same car.

If you were being honest, it hurt. A lot. You’d gotten your hopes up over the past two days, tossing and turning at night as you dreamed of what would happen on your date. Would it go anywhere? Would he end up being the love of your life?

You hadn’t had a crush on anyone since…

Well… Since your Soldat.

You missed him so fucking much.

And he wouldn’t have stood you up.

“Fuck Steve Rogers.”

Your face was flushed as you headed home, storming through the streets of Manhattan to the Avengers Tower. You needed time to stew, and the subway would be too fast.

“I should’ve just stayed home and taken that fucking bubble bath,” you huffed as you got in the elevator and rode up to the residential floors. Even if it had been meant to be a casual first date, you’d done your hair and stressed over your makeup, wearing your nicest pair of leggings and sneakers that didn’t have mud on the bottoms.

And even if the plan had been for it to be casual, you’d been looking forward to flowers and a kiss on the cheek, stealing a fry from his plate and maybe playing footsie under the table.

Just a little.

Like other girls got to do.

The elevator music was getting into your head, and there was no doubt it’d be haunting your dreams. But when the doors opened onto the common area floor, you were just about ready to burst into tears.

Because Steven Grant Rogers was sitting at the kitchen island and eating a sandwich as he laughed at some joke Rhodey made.

You couldn’t believe him. Was this his plan all along?

Steeling yourself, you straightened your spine and walked with purpose, planning on walking right by without even acknowledging him.

But of course, that wouldn’t be your luck.

As soon as Steve caught sight of you, he froze, his blue eyes going wide. Breathing out your name, he quickly scrambled to his feet. “Wait! Wait! Please! I’m so fucking sorry, I completely forgot!”

“It’s fucking fine, Rogers. It’s clearly a sign that this is was a bad idea in the first place,” you said, your voice cold enough to freeze him again.

“What?! No! Please, I’m just…” He groaned as he followed you onto the elevator that would take you up to the other residential floors. “I just had three meetings before noon and completely forgot! That doesn’t mean I don’t want this date with you!”

Taking a breath, you turned on him, glaring at him like he was a piece of dog shit on your shoe. “You know what the cherry on top of this is?” You asked with a laugh. “My first fucking date of my entire fucking life, and I get stood up. Fuck you, Rogers. Fuck. You.”

You’d successfully shocked him, and left him looking like a guppy, his mouth hanging open as he watched you leave him standing there.

When you came to again, you actually found the strength to open your eyes.

The room around you was like every stereotypical hostage room you’d ever seen in real life, and in movies.

Almost like the one Olivia Pope had been in on Scandal.

Though, you had a feeling that this one was real and wasn’t just a fancy set in a warehouse.

“Where am I?” You asked yourself, trying to take stock of everything. “Okay. Head hurts. Expected that. Don’t feel any sharp pains… so he probably shot me with a tranquilizer and not a bullet… Which is probably better for my chances of escape.” It was so fucking cold, your entire body was trembling. “No phone, so no way for the others to track me. Same clothing I was in… so at least there’s that.”

Your voice died as you heard movement beyond the black steel door in front of you, watching as it slowly opened. Your heart sank as you realized who was standing in front of you.

“It’s been too long, malen’kaya.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years ago

Text

In a Heartbeat ~ Doctor!Bucky x Reader Oneshot

A/N: Title subject to change. This is a GIANT CONGRATULATIONS PRESENT for my fave Doctor!Bucky lover and yours @captainscanadian Because my girl finished undergrad today! Congrats, bby! Enjoy this doctor!bucky fluff that I said I would write a million years ago. ;) I'm so proud of you!!

Summary: What should have been a fun night out ends in the ER. At least your doctor is handsome?

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Injuries (fractured ankle), hospital, getting a cast, xrays and catscan. I think that's it. Fluff

Word Count: 2190

For the first hour of your stay in the ER you couldn’t decide if the constant beeping from the machine beside you was calming or irritating.

As it rolled into the second hour, you settled on irritating. You glared down at your ankle even though it was hidden under the blanket. You moved it ever so slightly, wincing as it caught on the sheet.

You unlocked your phone, letting your friends know that yes you were still here. And no you didn’t have any updates. And no they shouldn’t feel guilty.

A small part of you had blamed them in the first moments, after all they were the ones who convinced you to celebrate the end of finals with some drinking and dancing.

You checked your make up in the mirror next to your front door before locking up. You glanced at the door across the hall, hoping to catch the eye of your hunky neighbor before heading out. But no dice.

Oh well. At least your dress would likely be appreciated at the club. You’d even pulled out your comfy heels. Heels which were now mocking you from their spot on the chair next to your purse.

You’d been feeling good strutting down the stairs of your apartment building when a group of college kids who had clearly been pre-gaming, thundered past you, forcing you to press up against the wall. When you’d taken your next step your heel broke and you went sliding down 15 stairs.

You’d thought your ass had taken the worst of it until you tried to stand up and immediately cried out in pain.

So instead of ferrying you to a club, the Uber your friends arrived in took you to the hospital. You’d sent your friends on their way once you’d been processed and were waiting to be admitted. No need to spoil everyone’s night.

But now five hours later and bored out of your skull you were regretting that decision. You were going to lose your mind. You’d only left the room twice. Once for an x-ray and once for a CT scan.

You turned on the TV and settled on the game show network, letting the episode of family feud distract you.

You were on your third episode when a nurse came in.

“Hello. I’m Wanda, the night shift nurse. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. I’m just eager to get out of here.”

“I’ll bet you are. Dr. Barnes should be in soon,” she assured you. “He just finished up a surgery.”

“Sounds good.”

She checked your chart, noting your vitals and making sure that you weren’t tangled in any wires.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Can I have some water?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Wanda brought back a cup of water and a warm blanket.

“Thought you might be cold,” she explained.

“Actually yeah. Thanks. Is there any way I can take this off?” You gestured to the heart rate monitor on your finger.

She shot you an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. It’s protocol.”

“Worth a shot,” you shrugged.

“I’ll come and check on you in a little bit.”

“Thank you.”

She bustled out of the room and you turned your attention back to the TV which had moved on the Price is Right reruns.

You must have drifted off because the next thing you know you were being gently shaken. Your eyes were finally able to focus on a pair of entirely too blue eyes.

As your brain caught up, you realized the blue eyes were set in a very handsome face. A familiar handsome face at that.

“2A?” you asked cocking your head to the side.

He chuckled as you readjusted yourself trying to discretely check that you hadn’t drooled in your sleep.

“Most people call me Dr. Barnes. Or Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

That made even less sense. You were certain the name on his mailbox was James.

“My middle name is Buchanan. And what shall I call you, 2B?”

“Y/n.”

“Well it’s very nice to officially meet you, Y/n. Although I wish it were under better circumstances. Let’s take a look at this ankle shall we?”

You nodded, and he took that as an assent to lift the blanket. He folded in neatly up over your knee leaving most of your lap covered. You grimaced when you saw the swelling was even worse now than when you arrived.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

You relayed your story to him, omitting the bit about hoping to run into him. He listened intently, making the occasional note but mainly he just nodded.

“I’m going to examine it now,” he announced.

His hands were sure and practiced as he gently turned your ankle from side to side. It twinged occasionally, so you focused on his features to distract yourself.

You catalogued each in turn but lingered on his sharp jawline. Your thoughts drifted to peppering kisses along it and down his neck.

You were startled when his cerulean gaze met yours with a concerned look.

“Did that hurt?”

“Not really. Why?”

You were genuinely confused by the question. You hadn’t noticed anything amiss in his examination.

“Your heart rate was elevated. And you, ummm,” he broke eye contact for the first time.

“I what?”

“Squeaked.”

Your eyes widened and your chest felt hot with embarrassment. You glanced at the traitorous machine which was live casting your racing heart. Although that probably was less of the issue than the fact that you squeaked.

“I guess the hospital just makes me nervous,” you lied lamely.

He didn’t look convinced but thankfully let it go.

“I just need to check one more angle.”

This time it was painful and you yelped.

“Sorry.” He gingerly placed your foot back on the pillow that had been elevating it and covered it with the blanket.

He held the CT scans and X-rays up to the light as you watched him. You once again failed to notice your heart rate climbing as you admired the bulge of his bicep.

Dr. Barnes however definitely noticed. He smiled over at you reassuringly, which failed to help the issue at all. He glanced at the erratically beeping machine, before looking back to you. You would swear that there was a hint of smugness in his expression. But he kept it well hidden.

“Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

“Lay it on me, doc.”

“Well, the good news is that you will not be needing surgery. It’s a minor fracture.”

“And the bad news?”

“It’s a minor fracture that requires a cast.”

“How long?”

“Eight weeks. Total.”

“Eight weeks on crutches?” You whined.

“You should only be on crutches for the first four. After that, assuming everything is healing well, you’ll be in a walking cast.”

You groaned and shot a murderous glare at your heels once again.

“The price we pay for fashion.”

“I’ll have Wanda prepare everything now. It should only take about an hour.”

“Well, that sure cuts into my dancing plans,” you joked, frustrated by being stuck there for another hour.

It would be morning before you got home.

“Is that where you were headed?” he asked as he pressed the call button.

“Yeah. My friends finally convinced me to go out with them for once and look where it got me,” you laughed humorlessly. “Well at least I’m done for the summer. So the leg won’t mess me up too bad.”

Wanda appeared in the doorway.

“What do you need, doctor Barnes?”

“I need a cast kit. For the ankle.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.”

You expected Bucky to leave then, but he continued bustling around the room.

“You said you’re done for the summer. Are you a teacher?”

“Kinda.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“I’m a graduate student. So I just finished up TAing for the semester.”

“Ahh. Are you doing research then?”

“I’m finishing up the edits on my thesis actually. So this might actually make me do it instead of procrastinating," you giggled.

“What’s your thesis on?”

You were in the middle of explaining your thesis, when Wanda returned. Genuinely interested in your area of research, Bucky continued asking you questions as he wrapped the liner around your leg.

From time to time he would grin up at you and the damn heart rate monitor would go off all over again. You’d gotten over your embarrassment for the most part, until Wanda had to suppress a giggle because your heart actually skipped a beat.

“Alright. You are all set. Wanda will grab you your crutches and your discharge papers. You’ll need to make a follow up with your Orthopedic in four weeks.”

“Since I don’t have an orthopedic on speed dial, do you know any good ones?”

Bucky chuckled.

“I’ll have her put my practice’s number on the sheet.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“No problem. Do you have any questions before I go?”

“How long do you think getting all the paperwork sorted will take?”

“Not long. Twenty minutes or so. Why?”

“Just wondering if I should order my Uber now or wait.”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. His fingers drummed against the clipboard in his hand as he momentarily mulled something over.

“If you’re willing to wait another forty-five minutes, I can drive you home when I get off my shift.”

You immediately shook your head.

“You so don’t need to do that.”

“Please. It’s literally on my way home.”

You nibbled on your lip. It would be a lot easier.

“If you’re sure.”

He seemed almost relieved when you accepted.

“Absolutely. It’s been pretty quiet tonight, so you can just hang out in here until I get back.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He smiled, softer than the other ones he’d given you so far before hanging your chart on the end of your bed and exiting the room, bumping into the glass door as he went. You stifled a giggle. Maybe you weren’t the only one affected.

It took a little over thirty minutes to get you processed. And before you knew it Bucky was helping you into his car. You went in butt first and then swung your cast leg, followed by your good leg in just a hospital sock. Bucky handed you your shoes and purse.

“So, do you chauffer all of your patients home?” You teased as you left the parking lot.

“Only the ones who live across the hall. Speaking of which, I am sorry this is the first time we’ve gotten to meet properly. Not very neighborly of me.”

“I can’t imagine why you haven’t made your way over with your loads of free time,” you deadpanned, earning you an eyeroll. “But however it happened, I’m glad that we met. It was getting to the awkward stage.”

“Yeah, seven months of passing waves is a long time.”

You hummed your agreement.

“So, how did you get into medicine?”

“Family business.”

He told you all about his surgeon mom and physician father as you drove home. His siblings were also in medicine and even his childhood best friend.

“That is so many medical degrees in one house. Must be rousing holiday dinner conversations.”

“We actually have a no shop talk rule.”

“And how long does that last?” you asked knowingly.

“Through appetizers… maybe.”

“Your family sounds amazing.”

“They are. I wouldn’t trade them for anything,” he admitted as he parked his car.

Bucky carefully helped you out of the car and up to your apartment. You’d never been so glad to live in a building with an elevator.

“I feel like I should offer you breakfast for bringing me home,” you admitted as you plopped down on the couch, and lifted your foot onto the coffee table exhausted from the crutches.

“You need to stay off that foot. But I’m sure you’re starving and so am I. Got any pancake mix?”

“Doctor Barnes, you really don’t have to do that.”

“It’s Bucky. We’re back to just neighbors here. And I want to.”

“How can I repay you?”

“Think about going out on a date with me when your leg is all healed.”

You cocked your head, as you appraised him.

“Just think about it?”

He scratched behind his ear as he shrugged a little.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for well… about seven months. But I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. Because you don’t. I would have brought any of my neighbors home,” he rambled.

“You’re a really good guy,” you hummed.

“Could you tell my Ma that?” he joked, though his ears tinged pink.

“Happily. And I’d love to think about going on a date with you.”

He beamed back at you.

“I’ll take it. So pancakes?”

“In the cabinet above the fridge. Next to the chocolate chips.”

He nodded, taking the hint on your favorite add on.

“I’m on it.”

Eight weeks later when your walking cast came off, you and Bucky went out for dinner… for your two month anniversary.

Your heart definitely still raced when he smiled at you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: There we have it! I hope you enjoyed @captainscanadian.

#bucky x reader #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #Doctor!Bucky #Doctor!Bucky x reader #Hospital AU

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dialovers-translations · 4 years ago

Text

Diabolik Lovers Lunatic Parade Special Pamphlet Short Story: The 12 Vampires and the Magic Lamp [ENG Translation]

Original title: １２人のヴァンパイアと魔人のランプ

Source: Diabolik Lovers Lunatic Parade Limited Edition Special Pamphlet

Summary: After the Parade has come to an end, Yui receives a special ‘Magic Lamp’ from Count Walter’s butler which can be used to grant a single wish. As she tries to refuse the gift, the Sakamaki, Mukami and Tsukinami brothers promptly stop her and begin to fight over who has the right to use this valuable treasure. She escapes, but the boys chase her around the city, each of them determined to have their own wish granted. ーー And so, their game of tag begins.

“Chichinashi! Where are you hidin’!?”

“Oooi~ Bitch-chan~! Be a good girl and show yourself?”

With the Parade having come to an end, Ayato-kun and Laito-kun’s voices echo through a now quiet and nearly deserted Glimmer Street. While hiding in the shadow of the buildings, a sof sigh fell from my lips.

“...What to do? I have to hurry and go to Bernstein Castle...”

Right now, I am on the run not only from Ayato-kun and Laito-kun, but from a total of 12 different Vampires.

All of this happened because I obtained the golden, shimmering ‘magic lamp’ I’m currently holding in my hands.

ーー It happened after I managed to regain my heart with everyone’s help.

As I was about to leave this city to return to the Human World, I was approached by a butler working for Count Walter. He handed me this ‘Magic Lamp’ as an apology for the trouble his Master had caused me. According to what I was told, it is an extremely valuable treasure which will grant any one wish.

Furthermore...The Sakamaki, Mukami and Tsukinami brothers were there to witness the whole ordeal.

“I just can’t accept something so valuable. ...I’ll give this back to you, okay?”

As I said that in hope of returning to Bernstein castle afterwards, they stopped me in disbelief.

And then claimed that if I did not want it, they would use it instead. ...This resulted into a fight and before they knew it, I had made a run for it, taking the lamp with me.

ーー And that is how our game of tag started.

I am not quite sure what everyone would wish for, but I believe we don’t need this thing if it can fulfill one person’s wish only.

“Heeh...So that’s your reasoning. Well, I’m pretty sure it’s useless though...”

“ーー S-Shuu-san...!?”

“Not just Shuu. I’m here too. Geez, you really made us go through the trouble of lookin’ for you.”

When I raised my head, Subaru-kun was standing next to me as well. ...No, it wasn’t just the two of them. All of the Sakamaki brothers had gathered, from Ayato-kun and Laito-kun whom I believed had walked past me earlier, to Kanato-kun and even Reiji-san.

“Hehe...You’re pretty desperate, Subaru.”

“I mean, Subaru-kun’s going to wish for Bitch-chan to fall head over heels in love with him, right~? No wonder he’s so desperate, nfu~”

“D-Don’t be makin’ up lies! My wish is a new coffin!”

“All I want...is to live surrounded by an endless amount of sweets!”

“In that case, I’m gonna wish for a huge load of takoyaーー No, actually, might not be bad to have Chichinashi turned into a Chichiari*.”

--> チチアリ or ‘Chichiari’ would be the opposite of ‘Chichinashi’, literally meaning ‘to have boobs’.

“Eh!? M-Me...!?”

“You can’t, Ayato-kun. I’ll be one turning Bitch-chan into a voluptuous, young woman after all~*”

--> He literally describes it as a ナイスバディのオネーサン or ‘Nice body no Onee-san’. Onee-san is used to refer to women who are older than you are but since Laito-kun is only 17 in human years, it would apply to a girl in her early 20s as well.

“G-Geez! Cut it out, you two...!”

“...You guys really came up with some bullshit. If it can grant any wish, I’d make it so the Old Man never bothers me again...Pwaah...”

And so, they began to slowly close in on me. The very moment they reached for the lamp, Reiji-san - who had been the only one remaining quiet so far - suddenly raised his voice.

“Would you care explain this to me? ...Because you kept touching the lamp with those sweaty palms, there are now fingerprints all over it! Come on, it is not too late yet! Put these on at once!”

While frantically shouting at me, he threw a pair of white gloves my way. Surprised by his menacing look, I put them on as asked, and Reiji-san finally nodded his head in agreement.

“I am disappointed...Do none of you grasp the true value of this lamp?”

“Haah? Are we really not allowed to touch it with our bare hands...?”

“It looks pretty normal from the outside though~ I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a similar example in Kanato-kun’s room...?”

“Yes. ...Well, that one isn’t capable of granting wishes though.”

Reiji-san sighed deeply at Ayato-kun, Latio-kun and Kanato-kun’s consecutive comments.

“...Only two of these ‘magic lamps’ exist in this world, making them very valuable from a historic point of view. Furthermore, the lamp may disappear once it has granted one’s wish, therefore it revolts me you lot are even considering putting it to use...”

While the other guys seemed little interested in Reiji-san’s emotion-laden speech, he once again spoke up.

“Well, I doubt you will ever understand. ーー Especially you, whom I did not expect to even join us in the first place...”

“...Shut up. Who cares?”

Shuu-san calmly brushed off Reiji-san’s taunt as if it was nothing.

“Hehe...Seems like he doesn’t give a shit ‘bout what you say.”

“Fufu, take a look at that frustrated expression on Reiji’s face. ...This might be the most interesting thing I’ve seen in quite some time.”

“Geez, cut it out you two~ Don’t you feel bad for Reiji~?”

“Feel bad? ...Hehe. Pretty sure your words hurt even more.”

The other four brothers who had been listening in on their conversation continued to chuckle...Which eventually caused Shuu-san to burst out laughing as well.

Seems like this sight dealt a pretty hefty blow to Reiji-san’s pride, as he stood there shaking violently from sheer anger.

I better make a run for it before things take a turn for the worse...

I used the fact they had suddenly completely forgotten about me to my advantage, and left the place at once.

“...Phew. Thank god. Seems like they didn’t notice.”

I eventually found myself on Aizen Alley, one of the streets located in the very back of Glimmer street. To be honest, I wasn’t too thrilled about having to pass through there, but if I wanted to head to the castle while avoiding Ayato-kun and the others, I had no other choice.

“Hehe...Too bad. You can’t escape us First Bloods.”

“Hand over that lamp you are holding at once.”

I gasp at the voices resounding from the darkness. Those who appeared were Shin-kun and Carla-san.

“I-I can’t do that...! I believe it is wrong to use the lamp for one’s own selfish pursuits...”

“If we give it back, it’ll just get thrown into some old, dusty storage room, right? In that case, I’m pretty sure the lamp would be happier to have someone use it as well?”

“B-But...”

“Come on, don’t hesitate. You’re keeping Nii-san waiting as well. Can’t you hurry up?”

“...T-Then, what would you wish for, Shin-kun?”

While snorting at my desperate question, he answered with a smile.

“That should be obvious. I’d make sure those filthy Vampires disappear off the face of the Demon World at onーー”

“ーー No. We want cured ham.”

“N-Nii-san...?”

“We shall change all food in this world to cured ham. That is my...No, the dearest wish of all First Bloods.”

“R-Right...”

Carla-san would blurt that out with a straight face. It is the very definition of a selfish wish but I wonder if Shin-kun is truly okay with it? ...I look over at Shin-kun while wondering that, seeing him look at Carla-san in utter defeat.

“...Well then, woman. Hand it over right now.”

“You’re actually hoping to fulfill that wish...!?”

“Yes, of course.”

All food in this world will turn into cured ham...That is just simply pushing it one step too far. It pains me to have to deceive him...But I decided to tell a certain lie.

“H-Have you already had the chance to try the cured ham galette which is said to be this city’s speciality...?”

“...Pardon?”

“It’s a limited edition galette which is available at stores only after the Parade has ended. While passing by the shops earlier, I noticed that only very few were left, so I figured I would inform you just in case...”

While there was no guaranteeing he would believe me, I wanted to make Carla-san forget about the lamp, even if just for a few minutes. With that sole purpose in mind, I continued my act.

“...Let us go, Shin. Just leave this woman be.”

“W-Wait, Nii-san! You’re just going to believe her on her word!?”

“We will know whether she was speaking the truth or not once we get to the shop. Even if she had been lying, capturing a human woman is child’s play to me. However, if she has been speaking the truth...”

“If we don’t hurry, they’ll run out of cured ham galettes, right? ...Right, I understand.”

Realizing there was no point in trying to reason with him, Shin-kun reluctantly trailed behind Carla-san as they left.

I truly am sorry...While internally apologizing to both of them, I headed towards my desitation.

“Haah...I can finally see it in the distance...”

Some time after I bid farewell with the Tsukinami brothers, I finally got close to Bernstein castle.

“Oh no...I can’t approach the castle like this...”

After all, four familiar figures were standing lined up by the castle’s gate. Those are the Mukami brothers...Of course, with Ruki-kun standing in the middle. As to be expected of a strategist like him. If I wanted to return the lamp to its owner, I would have to make it back here eventually. They were one step ahead of me.

“Eve...Found you...”

“...!! A-Azusa-kun!?”

When I timidly turned around at the voice suddenly calling for me from behind, Azusa-kun - who was talking to Ruki-kun and the others up until seconds ago - suddenly stood right in front of me.

“Ahー M-neko-chan! So this is where you’ve been~!”

“Che...Ya sure took yer sweet time. You’re damn late, Sow!”

“...Calm down, you guys. If we make too much of a ruckus, we’ll attract the attention of the others.”

When I raised my voice, it caught everyone’s attention and without a chance to slip away, I was soon surrounded by the four Mukami brothers.

“I’m sorry, guys. But I won’t hand over this lamp to anyone...!”

After jumping the gun like that, Ruki-kun let out a disappointed sigh.

“...Seems like you have got the wrong idea. I simply want to look after the lamp for you.”

“Eh...? You don’t want to use it to grant your own wish?”

“Of course not. If a Vampire such as myself holds on to the lamp, it will decrease the chances of one of the other guys stealing it.”

“You say that buuuut~ ...Ruki-kun, aren’t you actually hoping to use that lamp to renovate our manor~?”

“Your own exclusive study room off-limits for anyone else, and a play room filled with nothing but chess boards...Hehe, as to be expected of Mr. Eldest son.”

“Kuh...! Don’t assume such things. All I want to do is to make the home we have received from that man the most comfortable for you all to live in...!”

While Ruki-kun chuckles sarcastically after his true intentions are exposed by his siblings, Azusa-kun reached out for me.

“Listen, Eve...The four of us talked it out and...We’ve decided to use the lamp together with Ruki as our representative...”

“Ruki-kun’s so mean, you know~! I was actually going to wish for a hundred year’s worth of Vongole Bianco.”

“I was gonna ask for the power to manipulate the weather...But my idea got shot down at once. ...Haah...And here I thought I could make field work a lil’ easier on myself...”

“I just want to be with Eve so...I didn’t really have any particular wishes...”

“Is that so...? It’s really admirable of you all to hold back on your own desires.”

Even though the younger brothers were voicing their complaints, it didn’t seem like they were going to force their own wishes through. I’m sure it is because Ruki-kun intends to make a wish which benefits the whole family, as the deep bond of trust between the four brothers somehow made me feel warm inside.

However...That still does not mean I will give them the lamp.

“Uhm, you see...It just doesn’t sit right with me to only have one person’s wish granteーー!?”

The second I felt as if something was closing on me, a large sound resounded from the nearby buildings before they collapsed.

“...!? This magic...”

“The Tsukinami’s...perhaps? Look, over there...!”

“Ugeh! They look hella pissed off! Did ya do somethin’!?”

“Uu...W-Well...”

I could feel my heart drop at Yuma-kun’s words. Carla-san and Shin-kun must be upset about the lie I ended up telling them back then...

“Say, what should we do!? At this rate, we’ll all be turned to dust...!”

Kou-kun’s exclamation made me panic as I rushed towards the two brothers. Either way, I just had to apologize as quickly as possible...However, I was stopped by the Sakamaki brothers before I could reach them.

“You’ve got nowhere to run now...Oi, hand me the lamp already!”

“What are you saying, Subaru? I will be using the lamp. You’re in the way!”

“Hell no! I’m gonna have my wish granted!”

“Ehー Let me have the honor for once~ We can only use it once and my wish is obviously the best.”

Shuu-san joins in a little late as well and before I know it, the Sakamaki, Mukami and Tsukinami brothers are all gathered just like when we started off.

Glares were being exchanged here and there as a hostile atmosphere fills the air. I can no longer stop them all by myself. In that case, I will have to rely on an outer source to back me up. I didn’t want to use the lamp to have a wish granted but...This is the only way to stop their fight.

While rubbing the side of the lamp, I spoke up with a loud voice.

“Release lanterns into the sky once more!”

White smoke emitted from the lamp and soon after ー Poof! The lamp disappeared with a popping sound.

When I look up at the sky, I once again witness the same magical sight of countless lanterns floating through the sky, just like they did a few hours ago. ...At some point, their quarreling voices had gone quiet as well.

“You...Haah. You really are a foolish woman.”

“Ya really think we’re happy with this crap? Geez. Ya really used the lamp for some useless shit...”

“...Eh...?”

Shuu-san and Yuma-kun’s remarks catch me off guard as I froze on the spot.

“...Livestock, seems like you did not grasp the true value of that lamp.”

“Exactly...To think a great hidden treasure of the Demon World has been lost over such a ridiculous wish...!”

Ruki-kun and Reiji-san voiced their complaints as well.

“B-But...! All of you were moved by the lanterns, no...?”

I frantically reached out for the others, hoping that at least one of them would agree with me. ...That was all I wished for, yet...

“I mean, sure? But to be honest, I didn’t need to see it a second time...”

“...I’d hate to have to agree with a mere Vampire...But I’ll admit that Kou is right this one time. You feel the same, don’t you, Nii-san?”

“...My cured ham...”

“Too bad, Shin-san...Seems like Carla-san can’t hear you right now...”

“Ah-aah...I was looking forward to seeing a sexy Bitch-chan as well~”

“Me too. I was already making plans for which sweet I would try first...!”

“Fuck! There goes my plan of gettin’ a coffin in which nobody can bother me...!”

All I got in return were negative responses and sighs.

“...Guess I’ve got no other choice then! Oi, Chichinashi! Let me suck your blood to make up for it!”

“W-Wait! That’s way too sudden...!”

“Shut up! That’s the only thing which can calm this anger inside of me!”

While Ayato-kun closed in, I looked around me in search of someone to save me, but all I could see were a bunch of eyes glaring at me from the darkness. At this rate, they will all take my blood. ...There is no way I would come out of that alive. Realizing I had to make a run for it...I dashed away at full-speed.

“Ah! Wait, M-neko-chan!!”

“Geez, Bitch-chan! I’m not scary though~!”

The many lanterns floating through the night sky was a sight to behold, but unfortunately, I did not have the leaway to enjoy that right now. After all, I had to flee from their approaching footsteps and voices calling out for me as soon as possible.

I didn’t want them to fight and while I never expected them to become friends, I wished they would at least try and be on neutral terms with each other.

That wish was most definitely granted. Right now, they had put the strained relationship between the different families aside to join forces.

However, knowing their shared goal is my blood...doesn’t make me happy at all.

ーー The Demon World’s Parade safely came to an end, but my night had only just begun.

ーー END ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers short story #diabolik lovers translation #shuu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #shin tsukinami #carla tsukinami #diabolik lovers lunatic parade

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broadstflyers · 4 years ago

Text

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #mat barzal x reader

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ofmythsandmadness · 4 years ago

Text

touch-starved | d.h.

or...the seven times it takes diego hargreeves to realises he’s touch-starved, and the one time he actually acts on it.

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SUMMARY: diego x gn!reader. an idiot in love, told entirely from his pov as he walks back on a series of monumental moments in his life. WARNINGS: a tad bit of foul language (bc i can never contain myself, jeez). allusion to sexual acts (nothing explicit, but if you know, you know). flowery garbage writing. probably poor characterization. a weird ending. WORD COUNT: 5.7k NOTES: it’s way too late (early?) for me to be putting this out. but after literally driving myself to tears over this stupid thing, i’m forcing myself to publish it and leave it to the world, for better or for worse. it’s...yeah. i hope it’s alright. x

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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THE FIRST TIME HE REALISED WAS IN THE SUMMER.

“Can I say something weird?”

There is a nervous half-giggle that came after the question, like you aren't quite sure how he’s going to take whatever slipped from your gentle, just parted lips. It hangs much longer than the five words you passed to him and he almost forgets what you asked entirely, so hung up on the breathless fashion your chuckle had come.

But when you blink at him and let your beseeching eyes hover over his, he has to let go of the sound and return to the present.

“Sure,” he says dumbly. “What?”

He loses your eyes then and he finds himself following, eager to see what could have lost your attention so fast. His frown digs heavier as you stare at the table he’s leaned over. There isn’t anything there but his harness scattered across the worn wood and a knife in one hand. He’s been idly fiddling with as some show titters in the background, but his weapon (mal??)practices have never been much interest to you before. So...

Slowly a warm smile comes to cradle your cheeks. It rests as delicate as a crashing wave colliding with the great cliffs you had painted once -- like with everything you did, your smile’s a charging force that transforms you entirely and leaves him in awe that anyone could feel something so strongly. He watches with total enthrallment and for once, he’s not ashamed to feel so.

“You have like, really nice hands.”

You drawl the statement out like it’s some kind of joke. Though, the intense look you so briefly shoot him tells him it's anything but. And suddenly he cannot do anything; the knife falls from his hands and clatters to the table and his fingers tremble under your careful stare, paralysed.

“I-I-”

“-I know, weird compliment, but,” you chuckle again, low and soft. You shrug. “I was staring at them and realised how nice your hands are.”

“Uh…” he doesn’t know what to do with that information. What does one say to that? Is thank you enough, or is he supposed to just force a laugh and pretend like he is not completely ruined by the way you look at his hands? Compliments are not a usual weapon of choice, but when they come from your lips -- Diego can die right there and go overjoyed.

“Thanks,” he mutters, folding and unfolding his hands on the table. “I...never thought about my hands like that.”

You brighten. In a flash of pastel movement you were pressing close, close, close to him and reaching for a fist. He’s again powerless, forced to just watch you pull his fingers in between your own, softly running gentle pads against his bruised knuckles. The touch is cool but he feels his body combust at the mere swish of skin-to-skin contact and he realises,

maybe he could crave someone’s touch.

“You should,” you grin, exquisite under your apartment’s shitty lighting and the flashes of whatever’s happening on the T.V across the room. “You could like, seriously be a hand model or something. Go-orgeous fingers.”

And maybe, he starts to crave yours.

━

THE SECOND TIME HAPPENS WEEKS LATER.

He’d fantasized about your touch most of the days between it, but the thoughts had been forced to be fleeting and he had avoided considering the way you looked at him like he could actually hang the moon and stars -- and it only ever caught up to him in the ebbs of night, when he couldn’t sleep and just stared at the ceiling, considering what it would be like to really feel you against his hands and not let you slip away.

He so rarely let the sun touch his skin anymore. It wasn’t intentional to adapt a vampire lifestyle -- but between the shifts that let him keep his dingy ‘home’ and the nights he spends racing around the cursed city, trying to do the right thing (or stick it to his dad, depending on the night and how bleary his head felt), Diego rarely catches himself leaving the gym early than eleven anymore.

A fact that seems to exasperate you, and fuels what you dubbed an intervention. Aka, forcing him to wander around the city just barely kissed by autumn’s chilly embrace. And though he did argue against it (profusely, because he’s still that stubborn sonofabitch), he’s grateful for you still.

“I think we need to make this a regular occurrence,” you sing, tossing a smile over your shoulder. You skip several paces ahead of him as you soak in every bit of sunshine the crisp fall air could offer you. And he flounders and watches as he wonders what it would feel like to have that much energy from merely existing.

“I think I’m gonna have to mandate this. I’ll force you to schedule this into your life, and I’ll take shifts off from work so we can appreciate the afternoon sun while we can. It won’t be long ‘til winter you know.”

He chuckles hesitantly, “the sun’ll still be there in the winter.”

“Sure, but barely. And it’ll be cold then! The sun ain’t nice when it’s cold.”

He laughs again, and you join him. And it’s easy -- because it’s you.

“Diego!”

“Huh?”

You stop then, dropping your hands to your hips and glaring at him. Even from several feet away he can make out the infuriatingly adorable pout that puckers your pretty lips and the way he wishes he could go back in time and learn to paint, so he could capture the curve of your --

“--why are you so slow?!”

“I -- I’m not slow.”

“You are too! You’re dragging your feet like I’m forcing you to go to the dentist or somethin’.” You squint at him as the sun heightens his reach in the great blue sky. “Man, are you that allergic to a good time?”

“Shut up, I’m not that bad.”

The pout gives as easily as honey dripped -- that is to say, he adores the treacly sweet and slow slip from puckered lips to the easy smile you give him. Your entire heart’s behind the look just as it always is. You trot back up the path to him and held your hand out to him, wriggling it in the air.

“What?” he asks, frowning through a slow smile.

“Take my hand.”

“I…” he hesitates again. “Why?”

“Because you’re slow, and I want to make it to the coffee place before next year. Duh,” you drawl, still shaking your hand like one would to a little kid. “Now, come on!”

You pull and he comes without a fuss, dazed as you bumble on about whatever miraculous happenings go on inside your mind. He hardly hears a thing. Every part of his body is fixated on the soft brush of your thumb against his hand, rubbing soothingly -- he isn’t even sure if you knew you’re aware you’re doing it, but he is. Hell, he can’t feel anything else but that.

Maybe your touch could be a tether.

━

HE HADN’T MEANT FOR THE THIRD TIME. Hadn’t planned to make an event out of it, anyways.

“You’re a fool, Diego. You know that?”

Obviously, he responds silently, grimacing as the cloth presses harder into his cuts. That’s why he did it. Because he is a fool. Honestly, that sums up the majority of the things he does in his life. Or doesn’t do, in the case of you.

Is it bad, if as you scold him, he’s creating a list of even more reasons to love you?

“I mean, one of these days you’re going to come here impaled on like, a pole or something and then -- what am I supposed to do with that?” Your tongue clicks like a disapproving mother’s, but your eyes still dance with childlike mischief as you work. “I am not a nurse.”

“Could’a fooled me, with those hands.”

You glare up at him over your lashes, a sight that made his breath hitch. “Quiet, you.”

Diego does as you said -- but not for any bits or for the joke, only because the way you look at him suddenly made his body tremble with the force of a thousand men and all he wants is to grab your neck and drag you up to meet his lips, finally be rid of the burning sensation in his gut that makes him want to ask the most obscene of--

“--does it hurt?”

He blinks, forcing away the images flashing in his mind so he can focus on the real you again. “Uh -- does what, hurt?”

You take that as a joke, laughing low like his horny idiocy deserved such praise. “This, asshat. Does this,” you press harder with the swab, making him cringe, “hurt?”

“Shit -- yes, it hurts! What’s that for?!”

“Had to make sure you were with me still! Sorry,” you hum, sounding everything but. But your grip softens. “You’re lucky. This could have needed stitches.”

Diego snorts. “It’s not that bad.”

“You look like the fookin’ dino from Jurassic Park felt you up.”

“Not that fookin’ bad,” he mocks back.

“Your accent is appalling.”

“So’s yours.”

You press harder; when he scowls, you giggle, pleased to have won the battle again.

The rest comes in silence. You stand between his legs, mopping at his cuts as you are often wont to do when he stumbles into your window. And he tries not to think about the way your weight so casually presses up against his torso as you reach to his temple, parted lips just out of reach. He could do it; he could just reach out and grab your chin, pull you in and kiss you with all the fucking passion that made his stomach roil.

But he doesn’t budge. There is no way you want that and he would never push past that fragile boundary without asking, no matter what the primal part of his mind fantasizes. His eyes fall instead down to his lap, staring at the folds on his pants as your fingers graze across his skin.

“There,” finally comes, along with you stepping away. Your distance leaves a cold chill running down Diego’s spine; he wonders if he asked you to come back, if you would. “Almost done.”

“Almost? What’s left?”

The next few moments move like a movie. The ones he only ever watches with you or with Klaus; the cheesy slow-mo romances, where the two main characters constantly dance around in a will-they-won’t-they that usually drives him nuts. Everything is always so slow in them and he usually hates them -- he did hate them. But when it’s his hands cradled in yours and you are smiling sweet and gentle as a honeybee, hell he’d take every single second of those crap rom-coms, if it leads to that moment more.

You lean in and, holding his hands in your own like an anchor held a boat to shore, press your lips against his temple. The slightest sting from the pressure builds but it falls with the blink of an eye. Your lips are cold, delicate, brushing twice against the cut before pulling away.

“There. Now I’m done.”

Maybe, you’re just some kind of angel.

But then, why are you bothering with him?

━

THE FOURTH HAPPENED SO FAST, he nearly misses it.

You pull him in close, examining his clothes and face for any glaring wounds. When you find nothing but dirt and a couple surface scratches, your worried expression melt into something akin with relief; a shiny-eyed, trembling lip smile that deserves its place in the greatest museums.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whisper, seemingly untrusting of your vocal cords. You sniffle. “I was - I was so--”

“--I’m okay.” It sounds more like a revelation than a reassurance and he repeats himself twice, just to make sure you understand. His hands still grip tight to your forearms, holding you to him in case you would disappear, too. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

You nod and even as you pull away from his hold, you launch. Your arms lace around his neck and your face instantly finds a place to bury itself, right into his shoulder. Your body shakes; he realises that you’re crying into him, so relieved with him being there.

The embrace is short. Too short. He doesn’t do enough to hold your clinging form, only standing there slightly swaying and just barely grazing your back, He considers it too long and doesn’t act enough even when he wants to beg you to never let go again. And when you pull away, you refuse your tears again, sniffling through a smile and asking if he wants some food. But the embrace remained ingrained in his thoughts like a disease; it polluted everything else until everything was you, just you, holding him and wanting him.

Maybe, he was deserving. Maybe he deserved to be wanted. Was that justification enough?

━

THE FIFTH HE ALMOST DIES.

Not literally that time -- no, he’s done enough of that to you. It’s more of a metaphorical sort, making his heart stop as your fingers just graze against his stubble strewn chin, his breath catching on the lump in his throat as he realises yet again that nothing could be more beautiful than your smile.

Diego is not a formal man, nor had he ever really been. Even at the Academy his uniform was almost always somehow out of place or wrinkled or missing a detail. He hates shirts that buttoned all the way up to his throat and pants that have to be pleated that one specific way for no reason at all. If it isn’t important, he wears whatever is closest to him, or his domino-mask-and-leather getup if he’s ‘working’. Hell, the man isn’t even sure he had ever worn a suit outside of his childhood years and Allison’s wedding.

“You look...different.”

He swings fast around to see you leaning against his doorway. You’re all pink cheeks and cheeky grins. Something about the way you look him up and down makes him suddenly want to hide, slip away so you could not see how stupid he looked in this stupid monkey suit clinging to his arms and thighs like stupid plastic wrap. You probably see him as a circus animal, stuck in some stupid performance outfit and told to juggle fire.

(Honestly, juggling fire would be worlds easier than doing whatever this was, though.)

Slowly, you step into the room, eyes never leaving him. He gulps.

“You look good, Diego.”

He blinks. That is...unexpected. “Y-yeah?” Damn his voice for giving out on him; it comes out squeaky and prepubescent, sounding every bit of uncertainty he feels. “I-I mean, I--”

“--relax, hot stuff,” you wink and his face fills with heat. “You look great. But, your collar…”

Diego glances down only to scowl at the mess of buttons he left around his neck. “Shit, yeah.”

“Let me?”

But you’re already coming to him, though, hands outstretching and delicately folding themselves across his chest. He wonders if you could feel the way his heart beat like there were a thousand drums locked into his chest, or that you knew you smelled like the gods’ ambrosia, honey -sweet smoke dripping from your velvet form. Are you aware how intoxicating your mere presence is?

“Can I?”

He nods dumbly, not trusting his words.

With careful fingers, you weave the buttons together that have been left undone. You then reach up higher, pressing down his collar.

You hesitate against him, hands still folded into the sharp white fabric. Slowly, one set of fingers unfurl and lift to barely brush against his jaw. It’s a mere allusion to what it would be to have you cradle his face in your caring palms and it only leaves him craving more.

Your lips curl up too, coloured as deep as the fabric that clings to your exquisite form. Just the tip of hot pink snakes out of your mouth, pressing slyly to the top lip, riling the hotblood boiling inside him right up to the brim.

“What…” the single syllable comes out strangled and hoarse. You’re strangling the life out of him without even moving a finger. Do you know your power? “What are...what are you doing?”

In hindsight, that’s probably the stupidest question he could have asked.

You baulk and immediately pushed away from him. The fingers glide from his chest and chin and leave him cold. Gone was the confidence you had offered so easily before; he watches, stunned as your eyes fall to the floor, no longer eager to meet his.

“You look good, Diego.” You smile but that time it doesn’t look real at all. “Have fun tonight.”

“Wait, I--”

--you offer a wave and nothing more. Your figure crosses the room and leaves him alone in between the four walls that seemed to press into him without your comforting presence.

Maybe, you could care for him, too. As he wants you too. Is it selfish to think so?

━

THE SIXTH TIME, HE’S ALMOST ASLEEP.

Honestly, Diego isn’t sure how his head had ended up in your lap, or when his body had melted so effortlessly into your own. It wasn’t the alcohol; two beers isn’t enough to kill all of his conditioned issues or turn him into a total sop. It hadn’t even been intentional, nothing about making room or trying to do anything.

But there you are. Your thighs are his pillows and your hands kiss across his scalp, weaving through his hair like it’s yarn to be woven into something beautiful. Once in a while you pause and he thinks that that’s it, you would force him up -- but then you continue like nothing had happened and he continues to lay like a fish out of water across your legs.

Neither of you had talked about the incident before. It was simply avoidance until you both decide to brush it off and move on, forgetting all about the awkwardness. Or, at least, that’s what you silently promised.

But it’s late. Neither of you are thinking. Or, he isn’t at least, when his head slips from the couch to your thinly clad shoulder. And you hardly react when he relaxes even more, silently gesturing for him to use your thighs as a headrest as the movie neither of you are watching drones on. You make some sort of joke, something stupid and it usually wouldn’t be enough to convince him to act so foolishly. But he is tired, and you are you, and it’s all too easy to give in to you.

So he lays. Your hands in his hair. On your lap. Like a baby incapable of even sitting on his own. He should feel unbelievably stupid, right?

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” you mumble, eyes dragging off the television screen to your lap. He barely catches your soft, smiling gaze before it slips back up, but the memory sticks with him long minutes after. “Wish you’d let me play with it more.”

But he can’t bring himself to hate this moment.

He half-snorts, half-laughs because what a funny statement that is. In his state of lovesick, exhausted delirium, Diego hardly recognises himself telling you that ‘you can play with his hair any time you want’.

“Really?”

“Uh…” he had not meant to say that out loud. “I-I--”

“--thanks, honey.” Your hands linger against his temple before stroking down his wavy locks. Honey. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He pulls off of you after a short while -- not because he wants to, because he’s guilty to take your loving hands for his selfish needs. He claims the bathroom excuse and leaves with his head floating in the clouds. The domestic bliss you offer him wasn’t something he thought he wanted, before -- but every time he leaves your bubble, he finds himself more and more starved for your touch.

He leaves your place high on your smile and still stuck on the way you combed through his hair. Even after pulling away yet again, he’s still happy and actually hopeful.

Maybe, he could actually have this, more than just one random rainy night. Maybe he should try.

━

THE SEVENTH TIME, HE ALMOST KISSES YOU.

Almost, because he, Diego ‘number one himbo’ Hargreeves is a self-labelled idiot who loses all cognitive abilities and brain cells when he lays eyes on you, and fails to be able to use them for all the time you’re around him.

And it’s the moment when he finally fully comes to realise the extent of his overwhelming, absolute adoration for you.

He’s never been so bad with that sort of thing. Before he could throw an easy smile and wink his way into a heart he’d no doubt break the following morning and pull a quick-run attraction like it wasn’t anything. But with you? The idea of even your touch turned him bashful and running for the hills, you know...like an idiot.

It takes you pulling him along every single time for him to react and even then, it’s never enough. You’re always left with a pouting lip and that strange, far-off look in your eyes that tells him he’s screwed it up all over again. Every time you get close he’s too blind to react the right way.

Your head on his shoulder, the world’s at peace. He wants you to stay by his side forever. He’ll hold you as long as you want -- hell to his arms, you’re worth the ache or the crick in his neck from bending the wrong way. He’ll let his body waste away and his mind turn to cobwebs if it means an eternity on your balcony, wind in both of your hair and your hands interlacing between his own.

“This is nice,” you murmur. “Yeah?”

He nods. His chin bumps awkwardly against the crown of your head, but you don’t seem to mind.

“I don’t normally like the quiet. But it’s nice like this. With...with you…” you hesitate on the last syllables and the ‘you’ comes out thick and garbled. But he gets it anyways, and somehow he has the emotional strength to pull you even close to his hulking frame. You’re very close to sliding onto his lap and he’d be lying if the idea to just go all the way doesn’t spring to mind. But he doesn’t move.

“It’s nice, knowing you’re here. Safe, alive...with me.”

Diego smiles into your hair. “It is nice.”

Aaand the ‘most obvious statement of the year’ award goes to him. Yet again. Why do you put up with his thick-headed responses? And why can’t he explain the fuzzy feeling in his throat that he gets from being near you, and the desire to give up everything else just to exist by your side? A simple ‘yeah’ doesn’t cover that and he knows that, he knows he has to tell you the entire adoring truth but --

“I like being around you, Diego. You know that, right?”

If he’s being honest...he can’t really believe that. The idea that someone like you enjoys his company is a farfetched concept. But his head bobs up and down again anyways.

“I, uh...I like our friendship.”

Did you -- did you just friendzone him?!

Did he really just --

“--but sometimes…” you snort out a derisive laugh, “sometimes I wish we were a bit more. Y’know?”

He shifts his weight on the chair and stares down at you, unsure what to make out of any of it. “I - uh - whatdoyoumean?”

“I just, I think we’re good together.” You move too, so he can finally see the pretty way the moonlight bounces off your irises. You’re smiling, and he can’t help but smile too, hopeful and eager as a puppy would be. “And I want to, just...man, I wasn’t expecting this to be so hard to say.”

Vaguely, Diego hears himself respond with a grunt (it’s meant to be an ‘it’s okay’, but apparently English isn’t his strong suit).

“I just like having you around. A lot, if that’s not obvious. I know I’m, heh, kind of a lot sometimes. And I’m trying not to be so uh, affectionate because I know that’s a lot for some people and I never want to overstep, or--”

“--you’re not,” he says quickly, finally finding his voice after oceans of gaping. “I like you being affectionate. It’s nice.”

Your smile grows. “Okay, that’s good.” You hold his fingers a little closer and he’s on cloud nine, staring at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the modern world. “Because if I’m being completely honest here, I don’t want to stop. I...I like you. Generally, in the sense of, more than just friendship. D’you get what I’m saying here?”

“Uh…”

“I don’t want to read into things too much, but I can’t stop myself from feeling really strongly about you. And I don’t want to go on like this, without telling you I’m like, head over heels for you at this point.” You blink up at him, pleading for him to not let you down as you finish with, “is there any way you feel the same?”

What Diego should have done, and wanted to do, was to tell her exactly how he felt, and pull her to him and pull the most cheesy, most cliche Hollywood moment in all the world. He’d finally get the girl in the moonlight as the stars sing above him and the world sleeps below and it would be perfect.

What Diego actually does, is leave.

Cold, and alone, with no hand to hold and no head resting on his shoulder. He leaves you bewildered and probably pissed off and he leaves with no explanation at all -- just a garbled sentence or two that adds up to nothing. He drops his shattered heart at the door and wanders home shivering and hopeless, knowing he has just fucked it all up.

As he stares at the sidewalk and plods down the street like a lonely, hard down soul, Diego wonders if he’s deserving of your touch. If he was allowed to open up and feel your affection so strongly as you give it. He wants to like you would probably never believe. He wants to hold you and he doesn’t want to let go again. He’s starved for your touch and he’d trade the sun and stars to keep you by his side, no matter the costs.

But you’re worth more than him. Shouldn’t you offer your heart to a better, kinder man? To someone who knows how to hold you properly, and offer his touch right back? Not someone who shivers away or rejects your kindness like a parasite. But someone brave enough to feed you with all the adoration you’re worthy of. Shouldn’t he be who you seek?

Maybe, Diego muses, the universe is wrong, and the mistress is nothing but a cruel meddler too eager to break his heart.

But maybe, it’s his own fault, and she’s not cruel at all.

His pace quickens a beat, and he suddenly knows what he has to do.

━

DIEGO’S LIKE NINETY-NINE PERCENT CERTAIN THAT NO ONE, no one living soul, had ever said that the eighth time was the charm.

But if he had to be the first, hell he’d ring that bell a thousand times if it got him where he had to be.

He’s running like a madman. And he’s not drunk, even if at least five people have grumbled that about him -- no he’s as sober as the day he was forced into the world. He’s made a thirty-minute walk of hell into somehow a twelve-minute dash through the cold streets of their shitty city and he feels like a god, if gods were desperate sonofabitches who never knew how to acknowledge their feelings until it’s too late.

He takes the stairs, too high on adrenaline to wait for the elevator. He gasps and huffs and pants his way up but he makes it and keels down the hall to your door, falling against it with all his weight. It’s a foolish move but in his defense...his legs are about to give out, and all the energy he’s devoted to this half-baked, foolish, love-drunk plan is very quickly running out.

He pounds against the door weakly. “Hello? Hello? I--”

and then he literally crashes into your apartment.

You both tumble to the floor with a loud thud-thump and he’s so glad you have thick carpeting because he could have probably split your skull right open with the fall. He’s smart enough to roll, so he cushions your upper body with his, but you still groan as you make contact with the floor. His entire bone structure quakes at the feeling of ground hitting him and even with nary a breath in his throat, immediate guilt floods his system.

He falls back and silently screams, wishing he had more tact than this.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” he offers with a smile. He quickly props himself up over your body and tries to look as sorry as he truly feels, though it’s hard as his breath still won’t come and he’s still absolutely exhausted from running all this way.

Why did he do all this again?

Oh, yeah.

“I-I love you,” he spurts, followed by him rolling off and promptly falling into a coughing/choking/hacking fit.

You lay beside him, silent and stunned. He can’t see you as he coughs but his mind tries to put the pieces together, and none of it looks good. You’re probably annoyed, and mad that he’s even there so late and after what happened before, and you’re probably tired, and maybe sad, or hurt, or uncomfortable because you just jumped from friends to him admitting he loves you and --

“-did you seriously run all this way and body me, just to tell me that?!”

He pulls himself together long enough to breathe and then turn so he can stare at you. You’re still beside him, body still pressed against the floor (possibly broken after having a much larger man knock you over, who knows) and you’re…

“You’re smiling,” he responds, like it’s the most shocking thing in the world. “You’re - why-”

“Last time I saw you, you were running out of my place like your ass was on fire. And now you come here, knock me on my ass, and tell me you love me?! Diego...uh...wow.”

Diego just stares back at her. He’s still struggling to breathe and if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he can function after any of this. He just wasted so much of his courage (something he’s never been good at keeping stock of) on just getting here, how is he supposed to collect himself and head out the door with any sense of dignity? Or answer you in any way, shape or form? How is he supposed to even move when you’re looking at him like that?

Wait, you’re...you’re looking at him like that. Smiling, doe-eyed, honey-sweet and beautiful even after being violently collided with and forced to your shitty carpet…

“I love you,” he breaths, soft but still sure. He grins back at you and he feels like an idiot but he holds strong. “And I’m really sorry about before. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m just, all this stuff is stuff I’ve never done before, and I--”

And without another word or even the chance to think, your lips are on his.

Well, they probably were meant to be. What really happens is with a grunt and a swift push, you shift over to him and move to kiss him, only you’re both still smiling and absolute idiots who then just bang teeth against teeth. And you’re left groaning and keeling back, both gripping your mouths while still smiling and,

Ohmygodthisisamessbutohmygodishesohappyandinlovewithyou.

“I’m so sorry,” you groan, muffled behind your hand.

“Me too -- for knocking you over, too!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckle, and lift up again. You hover above him. His nose just barely brushes against yours and he’s straight back into heaven again, even as the embarrassment floods and his teeth ache. “I mean, I would have preferred a bit more warning, but...at least you don’t hate me.”

Diego grins and lifts his hand to push a tendril of hair behind your ear. “I could never hate you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Mm-hmm. I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes and shove at his chest. His heart beats even faster. “Like I could ever hate you.”

He lifts his head, trying to pull himself up to meet your lips, but you dart away just enough so he can’t. “Can - can we try this again?”

“Mm…” you pretend to consider his request like one would a business proposal. Your thighs tighten their grip around his stomach and a part of him just wants to pull you in and act as his heart pleads. But, given the last time he did that...and the last time you did...he’ll take this slow.

Instead of answering, you lean down and press your lips to his. It’s gentle and leisurely, but he takes every motion in stride. You’re everything he expected and more. Soft petals of reddened flesh against his, your hips just barely grazing against his own, making him want to pull you into his body and never let you leave his side. He’s jubilant and exhilarated and he almost laughs like a baby as your tongue swipes against his bottom lip.

“If it isn’t obvious,” you breathe as you pull away, “from the way I let you tackle me to my floor,”

“I’m really sorry about that,”

You pull his hand up and intertwine your fingers, shaking your ‘head’ no. “I love your touch-starved ass too, Diego.”

“Good, cause this would have been--”

“--no more talking, chatterbox. Just kiss me and shut up.”

And he lets go of the maybes, and just loves you.

SECOND A/N...this ending is just ackwa!?!hiwogh. very annoyed with how it went, but if you know me, you know i suck at conclusions in every sense of the world and i also always leave them to the very last minute, meaning i’m typing this note as i read over the ending and hate it even more. and i’m sorry for the vague messiness of this! I had an idea, failed to deliver it the way i wanted, and a cool thought turned into a half-baked fic. thank you to those who read this, sorry’s also extended your ways because i know this isn’t fantastic. lmao.

- xx

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #hargreeves x reader #hargreeves oneshot

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years ago

Text

Single-Parent!Headcanons

Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Kaminari Denki, and Bakugo Katsuki

A/N: Inspired by y’all. Enjoy <3

Warnings: fluff overload? one tiny curse word

Kirishima Eijirou:

the day his son was born was both the worst and best day of his life

his wife died upon delivery and he almost fainted when he heard the news, bakugo caught him before he could hit the floor

it took him 24 hours before he could gather the courage to go to the nursery and see his baby. he thought he wouldn’t be able to stomach the reminder of losing the love of his life

but when he held the small boy, who instantly nuzzled into his father’s chest, sighing with relief, kirishima was hooked for life

he just continued to hold his son into his chest and cry until he couldn’t anymore

from that day on, he swore he’d be the best parent he could be for his wife and his child’s sake

bc kiri is such a youthful and loving person, taking care of his son was easy, fun, and rewarding

ofc there were hard days, but it was all worth it when his baby would wake up with an adorable laugh, smiling up at him like he was his entire world

they’re two peas in a pod

he and his son are just the cutest pair

he takes his son everywhere, strapping him on his chest with a baby carrier

you bet your ass he’s taken him on (a safe) patrol around the block

kirishima is the kind of dad that puts his kid in a laundry basket, sits them in front of the tv, and acts out rollercoaster sounds

he lives for that loud laugh of his son’s

blows raspberries into the kid’s stomach whenever he starts getting cranky

his son’s first word was “manly” and kirishima spent the entire day bothering the bakusquad about it

everyone has 12 different copies of the video—y’know...just in case

when he takes his first steps, kiri’s swinging him around the house and giving him so many kisses on his chubby cheeks

when he saw his son had one spiky tooth growing in, he almost drowned from the cuteness

the kid gets himself into a lot of trouble tho. he’s always crawling towards the edge of something and putting his hand in things that could totally cut it off. kiri has a heart attack at least once a week

calls him, “son” “bud” and “buddy”

I hc that even though he’s lively around his dad, his son is very shy with new people and in new environments so school is kind of tough for him

but kirishima is always understanding of his troubles and tries his best to let him know that as long as he’s his son, he’ll always be his biggest supporter

if that doesn’t work, they go buy their fav meats and have a random bbq (kirishima just looks like the bbq dad™️ lmao). that always seems to do the trick

when his son enrolls in U.A., he’s there with a banner, his fav meat, and a bunch of tears when he sends him off

his son wears their matching crocs only to cheer up his dad. nothing else

aka he lowkey likes them but you didn’t hear that from me!

kirishima always has the urge to ft his kid, like, every hour. but he won’t bc he knows he’s busy training to be a hero

but he does send him uplifting snapchat videos from time to time

his son still wonders how in the world his dad even knows about snapchat

he makes sure nobody knows about this

when his son calls him about his insecurities, comparing himself to his classmates, kirishima is right there to lift him up. he also dealed with those same issues and tells his son that even on his worst days, he’s strong for just facing the day and he needs to believe in himself before others can believe in him

the next day, the bakusquad is watching the tournament together

kirishima has manly tears in his eyes as his little boy places second place in the sports festival

bakugo is threatening to kill him if he ruins his shirt

Kaminari Denki:

denki becomes a dad from adopting a pair of four year old twins (one boy, one girl) that were left homeless and without parents after a villain attack

he kinda knew the parents from hero work and felt it was an obligation to at least make sure their children were okay

he wasn’t planning on necessarily adopting them. he was young and inexperienced with children. how could someone like him raise a kid when he could barely raise himself?

but after two visits to the orphanage and seeing how miserable they looked, he couldn’t leave the building without signing the papers

the transition was awkward. the twins were not only traumatized, but distrusting and scared. they didn’t really know kaminari and now he was suddenly their adoptive parent

kaminari tried everything from ice cream, to late night movie snacks, to hide n seek to get them to relax but it wouldn’t work

he almost gave up hope, and thought maybe it was a better idea to take them back to the orphanage. but that was before the night he woke up to them crawling into his bed, scared from the thunder storm that rumbled on outside

kaminari froze, scared that he’d frighten them away with any sudden movement, but he soon relaxed and hugged them close to his chest when they snuggled into his sides. he sleeps with a peaceful mind that night

although, he’s awoken to them bawling their eyes out over the nightmares they had. he panics but takes comfort in how they still grip to his shirt, face in his chest, seeking his comfort

therapy becomes a regular thing after that

kaminari finds more focus in his life

and as those helpful sessions go on, kaminari finds the twins beginning to open up more and more

they all sleep together now bc cuddle piles always scare the bad dreams away

the boy starts asking for kaminari to help him pick out his outfits

and the girl starts asking him about his quirk

it’s small things like that that lead up to things like this:

they’re in the midst of playing tickle monster when they scream with laughter, “stop! stop, daddy, you caught us!”

the twins stare at him in confusion (and slight worry) when he scoops them up and cries like he broke his leg or something

they got two huge scoops of ice cream that night so they don’t question it

dad jokes are a must

he wears typical dad outfits like hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts, and flip flops

he calls them his “little rockstars” and yes, it’s still embarrassing

kaminari is a playful dad who doesn’t really take things too seriously

his children are always laughing at his dumb jokes and are never afraid to talk to him about anything that crosses their minds

although, they won’t talk to him about love interests bc he likes to play match maker

the last time his daughter told him about some girl she was crushing on, she found out she left her a personally signed chargebolt poster for the girl in her name

kaminari called it a little boost in spirit

her brother found it funny

she was horrified

kaminari swears up and down he’s the cool dad. his kids think otherwise, but their friends LOVE how much of a jokester he is. and he lets them stay up at sleepovers

plus, he’s literally chargebolt

how could they not love him?

denki has a little trouble being serious when he needs to be, but he has good kids so it’s not that much of a problem

there was that one time his son tried to help him during a villain attack. even though kaminari ordered him to get to safety, he didn’t and ended up getting hurt

the twins had never seen their father so angry. it was kind of scary. however, in the next moment, he gathered them up in a big hug and made them swear not to scare him like that again

overall, kaminari is the sweet, fun loving, dad that everyone wishes they had

Bakugo Katsuki:

katsuki became a father the day he found a baby and a note at his doorstep

the note read: “surprise! you’re a dad. i gave you all the legal rights, but you can place her up for adoption if you want.”

least to say, bakugo was pissed

he was even more pissed at himself for getting someone so cold and unloving pregnant

however, he decides to put the baby up for adoption. he cant take care of a baby! he’s at the height of his career. he can basically taste the number one hero spot on his tongue

he’s dead set w the decision, but as he stands outside of the orphanage, he freezes. he just can’t move

bakugo looks down at his daughter as she opens her eyes for the first time. he sees an identical pair of red eyes that make his chest tight with a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time

he turns back around and heads back home. it’s easily the best decision he’s ever made in his life

ngl though, growing into the dad role for bakugo was tough

before the girl, he only ever had to think of himself. he was still used to doing everything on his own time and for his own benefit. so being forced to put 100% of his attention to a small helpless human being was not easy

katsuki admits that the first couple of years weren’t his proudest. he was still short tempered, angry with the world, and frustrated bc he felt like his life was ruined

one time, the frustration and sleep deprivation would hit him all at once and he’d just start going off at the baby to just “shut the hell up!” before breaking down and crying with her

it was a dark moment for him, and yet, even after that, his little girl still curled up in his arms to rest when the tears tired her out

it had been a while since he felt unconditional love like that, and so he decided to change for the baby’s sake

you cant tell me that little girl isn’t spoiled rotten

bakugo is a hardass, but he’s all bark no bite. no matter what, he just can’t resist his little girl’s puppy dog eyes

he’s a girl dad to the t

yes he played the princess that needed saving from the big bad dragon. what about it?

his daughter is a firecracker. she started sassing him as soon as she could gargle

he pretends he hates it but his daughter is lowkey funny asl

they go at it when they fight. bakugo’s learned to be a little more patient, but he still has a bit of a temper and it doesn’t mix well when his mini-me has the same explosive anger

is the kind of dad that says sorry by asking her what she wants for dinner

they totally talk mess about other heroes together. he ignores the fact that she admires deku as long as she keeps it to herself

emotional talks are...awkward, but he forces himself through it

she finds it embarrassing (yet oddly endearing) that he got kicked out of a PTA club meeting for threatening to light up some mom for saying the art program didn’t matter

his daughter absolutely won’t talk to him about potential love interests unless she wants them coming up missing

bakugo won’t admit to watching baby videos of his daughter when he sends her off to U.A. and no, he didn’t cry, he got dust in his eye

doesn’t bother her too much, but jumps for his phone when he hears her ringtone

kirishima says he getting soft, but that’s just his little princess

#I had wayyyyy to much fun doing this #all my uwus just BURST out of my heart #imma make my rounds with the other characters soon enough #just something little to warm myself up #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugo katsuki #kaminari denki #kirishima eijirou #bnha parent!hcs #bnha single dad’s club tbh #domestic bnha #they cute or whatever #also adoption literally doesnt work like how I wrote it. like #at all #but yall knew that #okay im done #come get yall’s juice

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elentiyawhitethorn · 4 years ago

Note

Modern au where feyre and Rhys are roommates and she accidentally kisses him

I Do Bad Things with You

Smut//2486 words

“Gods, do you ever shut up?” Feyre snapped.

Not that she was actually angry. She pissed at herself if anything, for being so fucking wet for her piece-of-shit roommate, even when he was being annoying.

Rhys just smirked. “I was only saying-”

“That maybe next time I should come home earlier so I don’t interrupt your beauty sleep with my loud stomping,” cut in Feyre.

When Rhys had seen her miniskirt and red lipstick, he knew exactly where she was headed. And he had preceded to comment on how loud she had been last time she’d returned from hooking up with some guy - Isaac maybe? - when she had apparently very noisily awoken him in the early hours of the morning.

Rhys winced. “I was only suggesting you try to be a bit more mindful of your surroundings-”

Feyre interrupted once more. “Mindful of my surroundings? Like all the times you’ve brought home some girl and made her scream in the room literally right across from mine? Do you know how hard it is to get to sleep with earbuds in at the loudest volume so you don’t have to hear your annoying roommate fucking some random chick?”

Rhys didn’t even have to decency to look embarrassed. He just smirked that smug smirk of his and said, “They certainly seem to enjoy it, don’t they?”

“Good lord,” Feyre muttered. Though while she may fake irritation, something tight coiled in her gut. Thinking back on the noises those women made, they did seem to enjoy it. And Feyre couldn’t stop herself from wondering what kind of noises Rhys could draw out of her.

Rhys and Feyre had moved in together totally by accident. Feyre’s best friend Mor had set up this whole situation just to bother her, probably, being Rhys’ cousin. She had thought they could become friends at first, and when he had turned out to be a smirky, egotistical jerk, avoiding him had seemed the better option. But Rhys was always there; helping Feyre with random shit, flirting, bothering her when she told him to piss off, flirting some more...

And now he somehow had the nerve to point out his skills in the bedroom right after criticizing Feyre’s ability to walk without sounding like Bigfoot.

“How about this?” Feyre started. “I’ll remember to tiptoe when I come home. You stop bringing ladies who don’t know how to be quiet into our apartment. And we end this conversation becasue I am really not in the mood right now.”

Rhys sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only if you also promise to stop being so rude. I’ve only ever been nice to you, Feyre.”

If anyone else had said something like that, Feyre would have felt like shit. She never meant to hurt anyone’s feelings (unless they really deserved it). But from the mischievous twinkle in Rhys’ eyes, she knew he was just trying to provoke her. Bastard.

“Go fuck yourself,” Feyre said flatly, and took a step toward the door. Past Rhys.

And, of course, she tripped over the edge of the rug. Because nothing in this fucking apartment could be easy. Not with him.

Feyre slammed into Rhys with a shriek, and they both hit the ground. Rhys had cushioned Feyre’s fall, so she wasn’t hurt or anything. Not that that’s what she thinking about right now. Not when she fell so hard her face slammed into him. Her lips.

Feyre was kissing Rhysand. And even though she’d imagined this far too many times before, she could not enjoy it. One, because their faces being violently slammed together wasn’t exactly pleasurable. And two, because she was freaked out.

She jolted up into a sitting position. On Rhys. Oh lord, was Feyre really straddling Rhysand Night in the middle of the kitchen floor?

When they’d fallen, limbs had gone flying. It wasn’t just their lips that had accidentally touched. Rhys’ hands were under the bottom of Feyre’s skirt. On her bare ass. And she was literally sitting on his dick.

“Um, sorry,” Feyre squeaked. Her face was definitely bright red. And her ears. And her neck. Any yet, for some incomprehensible reason, she wasn’t scrambling off of him. She was just sitting on him, with her hands on his chest, paralyzed.

Rhys also seemed to be paralyzed, because his hands were not moving from her ass cheeks. For the first time since Feyre had met him, he actually looked flustered. He was also blushing, and there was a shocked expression on his features.

“You’re fine,” he croaked in reply.

Feyre brain finally started functioning. “Oh gods, I should-”

She stopped speaking and pulled her hands away from Rhys’ chest. He yanked his hands out of her skirt. Just when Feyre was about to slide off of him, however, she felt something. Underneath her.

Rhys was getting hard.

From the panicked look on his face, Feyre knew he realized what she had felt. “Shit, I didn’t mean-”

“You’re fine,” Feyre said, repeating his earlier words. Her voice was strangely calm, indifferent even to her own ears. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them, but Feyre felt no regret. Only lust coursed through her mind right now.

Rhys blinked. “What?”

“Well I have really wanted you to fuck me for a while, and this whole situation is turning me on, but since that could be nothing and I could end up doing something that makes you uncomfortable, I’m asking. Do you want to have sex with me?” The words were so matter-of-fact. This is it, Feyre realized. This is the breaking point. I’ve finally reached insanity.

That blood-heating smirk found its way back to Rhys’ face, and she knew exactly what his answer was. “How long exactly is a while, darling?”

Feyre placed her hands on Rhys’ chest once more. “Too fucking long.”

He put his hands on her hips, keeping Feyre steady as she started to grind against his erection, needing pressure on that one spot.

“You’re a piece of shit, Rhysand. You know that? You smirk at me and you walk around shirtless all the time like there isn’t a horny girl sharing your apartment and you bring home all those girls like you want me like hear. Like you want me to know what you can do to me. It drives me crazy.” Feyre punctuated this little speech with a relatively hard roll of her hips, making Rhys let out a small groan.

“Of course I was doing it for you,” he murmured. “I wanted you to know what I had to offer.”

“You’re such a dick,” Feyre replied, reaching for the buttons of her blouse, hurriedly undoing them.

Once Feyre slung her shirt into the ground, Rhys flipped them. It was so fast, Feyre had no chance to protest (not that she would have), and in a split second, Rhys had her pinned to the floor.

“Surely I’m not the only one here in the business of teasing the other?” Rhys breathed in her ear, his hands tracing patterns on her thighs. “You strut around in those little skirts even when you’re not going out. You think I’ve never had to resist the urge to slam you against the wall?”

Feyre sighed as Rhys started trailing his lips along her neck. “Hmm, maybe we should, oh, um, we’re still on the floor, Rhys.” She didn’t know if what she said was even comprehensible to him, it was so muddled.

Rhys frowned against her neck. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Archeron?”

Feyre frowned as well. “My definition of adventure happens to be different than yours, that’s all. I typically don’t enjoy having sex on a rug that neither of us have vacuumed for a really long time.”

Rhys let out an exaggerated sigh and stood, bringing Feyre with him. She wrapped her legs tightly around his torso, marveling in how easy that had been for him. Of course, she’d noticed how ripped he was. How many hours he spent at the gym. She always noticed.

Feyre slung her arms around his neck. Rhys pulled Feyre’s face back to him as he started walking toward the hall. His lips crushed into hers, and she started grinding against him once more as his tongue parted her lips. The man certainly knew how to multitask.

They reached a room - Feyre’s - and Rhys carefully set her down on the bed. He flipped the lamp on and surveyed the scene in front of him: Feyre in a miniskirt and a barely-there bra, sprawled across the sheets, with her hair fanning across her shoulders.

“Take your clothes off.”

As much as Feyre wanted to do as he said, as much as she wanted to obey, she wasn’t just backing down. Rhys was a pain in the ass and he needed a serious ego check.

“Don’t you want the pleasure?” She asked twirling a strand of hair in her fingers and sliding her tongue across her lips, wetting them.

Rhys frowned. “Take off your clothes.” He only repeated what he’d just said, but there was no room for argument.

Feyre’s breath caught, and she just couldn’t stop herself anymore. She unclasped the bra, then slid out of her skirt. Her panties came next. She tried to move slowly, wanting to tease him, but it was so hard to be patient. The whole process, Rhys just watched, tracing her curves with his eyes.

“Good girl,” he muttered once she finished, and Feyre felt a fire light inside of her. She pressed her thighs together, a pathetic attempt at quenching the ache.

Rhys noted the movement with a twitch of his lips. Then he got on his knees.

Feyre barely suppressed a gasp as Rhys grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He pressed a gentle, teasing kiss against her thigh, and Feyre spread her legs as far as she could.

She was on her elbows, watching him lick a trail up her thigh, still not going where she needed, and Rhys was holding her gaze the entire time.

A smirk was the only warning she got before Rhys dipped his head into her center. Just when Feyre was thinking Rhys had given in, all she got was a light kiss to her clit, the most pleasurable and frustrating sensation she had ever experienced. It was enough to drive her insane.

“Rhys,” Feyre urged, “do something.”

“Do what? This?” Rhys asked, licking a stripe up her center.

Feyre moaned. “Yes,” she breathed.

“And how about this?” Rhys flicked her clit with his forefinger, making Feyre cry out.

“More,” was all she could gasp, fingers clenching around the sheets.

Rhys’ wicked mouth started moving, tasting her, eating her alive. His tongue slid inside of her and Feyre groaned loudly, falling back against the sheets. Her eyes closed and she cried out in ecstasy as a finger entered her, then another.

“Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, gods,” Feyre cried out.

He spoke up, his breath caressing her folds. “Do you like that, darling?”

“Please,” she murmured. “Please make me come.”

“You behave so well,” Rhys commented, rubbing her clit slowly. “I wonder who taught you how to use such good manners.”

Feyre whimpered. A nearly incomprehensible string of pleases kept falling from her mouth, along with curses and cries of his name.

Rhys started pumping his fingers hard, sucking on her clit. He curved his fingers just so and let his tongue dart out and taste her once more, and everything shattered.

Feyre screamed, clenching her thighs together around Rhys’ head. He didn’t seem to mind; he just kept licking and sucking and thrusting his fingers inside of her, working Feyre through her orgasm.

Once the room stopped shaking and Feyre could see clearly again, she noticed Rhys pulling his clothing off until he was bare before her. She regained enough movement to reach for his cock as he crawled on the bed, wanting to taste him like he had tasted her, but he gently swatted her hand away.

“There’s plenty of time for that later, darling,” Rhys purred, settling over her pinning her arms to the bed.

But Feyre wasn’t giving up. She hooked a leg around his waist and used her momentum to roll them over, so that she was on top.

Rhys grinned, surprised but pleased to let this play out. Feyre kissed his neck, enjoying the contented sigh that came from his mouth. She started moving her mouth up, kissing and licking as she went.

She reached his jawline and made her way to his mouth. Unable to resist, she nipped his lower lip. Rhys growled at her and tightened his grip on her hips, but he didn’t reprimand her further.

Feyre moaned as she felt his cock press against her folds and she scrambled off of him, reaching in her nightstand drawer to grab a condom. Turning back to Rhys, she expertly rolled the condom on his length while he tweaked her nipple, making her usually-steady fingers fumble.

Feyre climbed back on top and lifted her hips over Rhys’ cock. He steadied her with his hands on her waist, murmuring a “good girl” as she lowered herself. They both sighed in pleasure as Feyre slowly sunk down all the way, fully sitting on him now.

Rhys let out a groan as Feyre started to rock her hips, adjusting to his size. She rested her hands on his chest and started moving more, really riding him now.

“You look so hot bouncing on my cock,” Rhys praised, slamming his hips up into hers.

Feyre moaned loudly, digging her nails into his skin. She tried to move faster, harder, seeking another orgasm, desperate for release.

Rhys flipped them, not stopping the movements of his hips. He thrusted harder, fully in control now. Feyre was moaning nonstop, propably leaving small scratches all over his back. Rhys seemed to relish in the sensation, thrusting harder.

She moved one hand between their bodies, circling her own clit. Feyre moaned and pressed harder, craving release.

One more thrust from Rhys had Feyre tumbling off that cliff, groaning as she went. Her whole body shook, and Rhys kept going.

“You’re doing so good, baby, so good. I’m almost there.” Feyre’s orgasm was drawn out even further at the sound of Rhys’ commending tone, loving the sound of him taking to her.

Feyre felt Rhys’ cock twitch as he found his own release, sighing against her shoulder. He withdrew from Feyre’s entrance and sat back. She was barely conscious as Rhys took care of the condom and walked back over to her.

Rhys leaned down resting his lips against her ear. “I hope you sleep well, darling,” he whispered with that smug tone of his.

And then Feyre drifted off to sleep, hardly registering the sound of Rhys padding out of her room.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@story-scribbler

#feysand #acotar #i do bad things with you #my writing

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