#i can't decide if i'd want most threads to take place during all of this chaos or in the aftermath | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryptiql · 3 years ago

Text

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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amostimprobabledream · 4 years ago

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And He Walks With Flames (Dabi x Reader) - Part One

They say humans, in a strange, ironic twist of fate, owe their magic to demons. A thousand years ago, they walked the earth, wreaking destruction and chaos wherever they tread. Humans were no more than meat for the slaughter, or glorified playthings for their amusement. The first generation of humans to fight back against their monstrous oppressors did so by a peculiar, ancient magic. A power that could repel demons and bring hope to all humanity. A terrible war raged for the fate of the world and the humans managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. The demons were banished to their land of origin, sealed away in defeat. But seals don't last forever. While historians argue on how literal these legends may be, there is no denying that ancient creature have begun to stir, appearing in our world again with growing frequency. And soon there might- The last paragraph was torn away. "Oh, for god's sake," you tsk. Sunlight pours through the large, high window of your lecture room, dust motes dancing in the golden rays. Though you were engrossed in your book, once you look up, the spell is broken, and the clear sky outside once again has your eyes wandering to it. It seems that you are not the only one getting distracted, either - even the professor keeps tapering off at the promise of an afternoon outside in the gorgeous spring weather. "Well," the professor says, shuffling the papers in front of her. "That's all for today. Please revise over the material and we'll discuss it in further detail next time. You are all free to go." You're only too happy to comply, putting your things away and scrambling to your feet. Everyone else is hurrying to get outside, pouring down the stairs to the doors, chattering to one another as they go. Normally you love going to lectures, but it's just too nice outside to be cooped up indoors. You push open the doors and step outside, a muted sigh of pleasure leaving your mouth. Your university, the Royal Academy of Magic, has the reputation for being tough, but so far, you've been enjoying the work. Learning about the different faces of magic, its uses, and the history of it, it's all so very fascinating to you. You've been able to use magic since you were young, but it's studying it here that will really help you unlock your true potential, and hopefully give you a concrete idea of what to aim for with your career. So far there are so many options a magic-user might do that it's been a little overwhelming trying to decide. As you cross the lawns, grass crunching beneath your feet, you decide to swing by your dorm first to drop off your books - they may contain a lot of knowledge, but damn if they're not heavy - your mother pointed out that you've developed something of a slouch since you started studying here. "I'm back!" you call as you push open the door of your dormitory. "Huh?" Kendou looks up from her bed, where she has a couple of books sprawled out next to her head, notes scribbled in the margins of her notebook as she looks over her textbook. Her red hair spills down her shoulder, coming loose from its signature ponytail. "You're back early!" "Yeah, they let us out sooner than I expected," you reply with a shrug and a small laugh, dropping your bag on your own bed and stretching, wincing as a kink in your shoulder pops. "Oh, well, that's good timing, someone came by earlier with a message for you," Kendou says, pushing herself up into a sitting position, apparently deciding your arrival is a good a reason as any to take a break from studying. "Your mother wants you to go down to the Imperial Research Centre to get your father." "Did she come by here?" you ask in surprise. Normally your mother arranges to meet you after lectures or seminars if she wants to see you during the week, and she's a rather busy woman besides. "No, she left a message at the front desk and someone passed it along," Kendou shrugs. "But she also said you guys are doing something tonight, right?" "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about that!" you say, feeling silly that it could

possibly have slipped your mind - you love it when you get to go out for a meal with your parents and often it means one of them has some exciting news to share. "Thanks, Kendou, I'll head over there now." She grins and gives a little wave. “No problem!” You suppose it's fortunate that the Imperial Research Centre is only a short walk from the campus and that you're very familiar with the place, since your father's been working there for so long. Anyway, it's a pleasant walk, the way there is lined with rows of trees that are only a week or two away from growing from dark to light pink and shedding their blossoms. When the street is in full bloom, it's like there's been a wedding. You even find yourself humming as you walk, breathing in the subtle smell of flowers on the breeze, wondering to yourself if the blossom trees were planted before or after the buildings were founded, but either way, whoever was responsible for them made a good call. The Imperial Research Centre is a peculiar building, made of blue stone and with a roof that boasts four conical points, one in each corner, making it resemble a castle from bygone days just plopped in the middle of the city. There's an aura of mystery to it, too, hinting at the all-important, life-changing work that’s always going on inside. If ever cutting-edge technology is released to the public, odds were that the Centre had a hand in making it. The building is cooler on the inside than it is outdoors, powered by a system designed to spread cool or warm air throughout the entire building, depending on the system. You approach the front desk, wishing that you'd thought to bring a jacket, because it’s always cold in here during the warm seasons, and the receptionist glances up on you with a slightly dismissive expression on her face. It's probably because she thinks you're an overeager student or some hapless intern, it's very rare a researcher your age would be able to work here. "May I help you?" the receptionist asks in a cool, professional tone. "Yes, I'm here to see my father," you reply. "He's one of the vice executives here." You give his surname, and the woman pauses. Is that a trace of nervousness you can see? "He's downstairs in Containment Room 1A," she says, checking a sheet of paper on the desk, which is littered with various papers, random pieces of stationary and one of those magitech intercom systems that they use. They have something similar at the Academy too, though of course, the Centre get the most high-tech version of everything. "All right, thanks," you say, turning to head for the elevator. "Wait!" the woman cries out and you glance back, confused. "I'm sorry, but you can't just walk through here, especially to the lower levels! You don't have the clearance and it can be dangerous." You scoff in disbelief. You have visited your father here before, many times, and this has never been a problem for you before. You always just tell them who you are and then get a visitor's pass. You even know some of the codes to the doors, thanks to waiting around for your father to finish work so often. "Well, please can you have someone go fetch him for me?" you ask, going to reluctantly perching on one of the chairs in the waiting area. "Can't it wait?" the receptionist asks impatiently, and maybe it can, but her attitude is starting to piss you off, so you shoot her a frosty smile you've perfected after watching your mother pull a similar face at people who don't meet her standards. "No, it can't." The woman sighs but she dutifully presses a button on the intercom system and speaks quietly into it for a moment or two, while you idly pick at a loose thread on the chair you're sitting on. She then glances back at you, eyebrows raised. "A messenger has been sent down to speak to him. Hopefully he should be upstairs shortly." "Thank you so much." you reply sweetly, the last words with heavy emphasis. After that, the two of you sit in a mutually frosty silence, with the woman sorting through paperwork on her desk and occasionally

directing people who approach her desk to the correct floor (which seems redundant to you - why can't people just read the clearly printed sign on the wall next to her desk ?), while you flick through some glossy magazines without actually taking in a single word. But you're not leaving until you've spoken to your father. Minutes tick by and you start drumming your heel lightly on the floor, leg jiggling with impatience. You wonder if the woman just lied about sending a messenger down to the Containment Room in an effort to pacify you, in the hopes you'll just get bored and leave. You grit your jaw at the thought, ignoring how cold you're getting, sitting here doing nothing. After maybe ten minutes, a man in a lab coat approaches the front desk, leaning over to speak to the woman. "Kino, could you come with me a moment? Hannah can start her shift." "Oh, I'll be right there!" Kino says, flustered, getting out from behind the desk and following the man as he walks briskly down the corridor, without a backwards glance at you. No doubt her replacement will be along any moment - perhaps she's running late? But you don't plan on sticking around. As soon as the receptionist rounds the corner, out of sight, you spring up and walk briskly across the room to the elevators, stabbing the button and stepping through the doors. You don't bother to fight the smile that spreads across your face as the doors slide shut. ~ "Father?" There's always something slightly creepy about the lower floors. The orbs lining the walls that are designed to keep the machinery running in case of a power shortage cast an eerie glow in the corridors, washing everything with a pale blue light that makes it seem far colder than it actually is. It reminds you a bit of walking through a tunnel of ice. Your boots click on the stone floor as you follow the lights to Containment Room A1. Finally, you reach the double doors leading inside, flanked by two windows each side. You can see your father inside, his back to you, so you rap on the windows. Nothing. You try again with more force, hurting your knuckles, but he still doesn't turn around. Perhaps it's soundproofed, so whatever's out here can't disturb whatever's going on in there? You glance at the keypad next to the doors, but you've never been to this particular room before so the code for the doors on the upper level is unlikely to be the same one for down here. Then you see movement, shadows beneath the crack between door and floor, and the doors slide open with a mechanical swish and two scientists in lab coats come out, comparing notes and murmuring together excitedly. You slip inside before they can slam shut again, unwilling to stand outside in the chilly corridor for any longer than necessary. "Father!" you call out as you enter. But then you stop dead in your tracks. Ahead of you, trapped behind some kind of containment field...is a monster. "What-?!" you hear your father say in surprise at his daughter suddenly marching through the doors. "What are you doing in here?!" But you don't answer. You can't look away from what's in front of you, even if you wanted to. You know without being told that this is a demon, but it's certainly not what they looked like in any of your history books. A tall, humanoid being that is undoubtedly male and you can tell from where you’re standing that he’s tall. The demon's huge, black wings arch out from behind him, reminding you of a bat. Two horns jut out from a crown of spiky black hair, but aside from that, you're surprised by how… human he looks. Your cheeks warm up as you notice he is shirtless, peculiar burn marks covering over half of his body and seemingly crudely stitched together like a patchwork doll. Despite that, he's impressively sculpted, sinewy muscles on full display and you know that demons were said to be uncommonly strong. Your eyes drift further down, and you spot a whiplike tail wrapped around one leg, topped with a pointed barb at the end, like a club in a game of cards. His arms are in restraints and so are his

ankles, yet he doesn't seem stressed in any way, leaning against the back wall of his holding cell as though he's waiting for something. "What...is this?" you breathe out, finally turning to your father. "This is our latest research subject," your father replies beside you, also staring at the demon, though his expression is surprisingly somber, considering just how amazing it is that they have been able to capture and contain a demon. You've never seen a live demon before, and something tells you that the one before you certainly isn't any garden variety one. "Director Fuji is very excited about this. It's not every day you see a demon this high ranking." Slowly, the demon stirs, raising his head a little. You're perfectly safe outside the containment field, as well was the multiple other safety measures both inside the cell and out of it, yet the sensation of being watched makes your flesh break out in goosebumps. From beneath spiky fronds of hair, the demon's eyes - so blue they almost don't look real - stare right at you, his gaze alone rooting you to the spot, laying all your defenses bare and leaving you feeling bizarrely naked before that look. Watching you without once blinking or breaking his gaze, his lips part in a sneer to reveal two rows of teeth, the fangs sharp and white as an icicle. You find yourself holding your breath as your father speaks again. "Sweetheart, meet Dabi."

#Dabi #My Hero Academia #Dabi x Reader #my hero academia #Touya Todoroki #Boku No Hero Academia #BHNA #Fanfiction #Reader-Insert #F!Reader #Demon AU #Supernatural AU #Writing

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whosaskingwrites · 4 years ago

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Forever Is A Long Time (Akaashi x Reader)

A/N: I'm alive. And finally starting my soulmate one-shots. 😔 sorry if you've been waiting for these i wanted to get the angst ones done first. Also im almost at 100 followers which means ill be having a follower special soon! So be ready for that. Anyway have a good day!

Date: Tuesday, November 24th, 2020

Details: 6.3 pages 2,308 words

Theme: Red String- There is a red string tied around your ring finger that connects you to your soulmate. It becomes visible when you are close to each other. You can also tug on the string so your soulmate feels it. When far you only see it as a red ring around your finger.

Warnings: cursing. Barely implied sexual stuff its just one sentence and its nothing explicit.

Soulmate masterlist

For as long as I could remember I had a pale red ring around my finger. I never asked questions about it since I knew what it was. My soulmate was out there somewhere but I was never curious about them.

I would have been but my mom stressed to me that I needed to be successful. Not worrying about some silly soulmate so I did. Every thought about my soulmate was pushed to the back of my mind and I slowly forgot about them. My friend Hinata always tried to get me to find them but I denied.

I ended up becoming the manager for the MSBY Black Jackals. I considered it the perfect job I wasn't as successful as my mom wanted me to be but I was happy with what I was doing.

I was always busy so my soulmate had never crossed my mind. My days were spent corraling Bokuto and Hinata while keeping Atsumu away from Sakusa's stuff. The rest of the team members like Meian and Barnes didn't need watching but they also never helped me.

Today was no different of course. Well unless you counted the fact that it was the Black Jackals versus the Schweiden Adlers. Hinata was bouncing around in excitement and Bokuto wasn't much better. Currently I was helping Sakusa fix his knee pads deciding to let Hinata be excited this once.

"Y/N!" I jumped throwing a hand over my heart as I stood up. I looked at Bokuto who was staring at me eyes wide. "Don't do that Bo!" I yelled smacking him on the back of the head. "Owww sorry it's just your hand!" I looked down at my hand and looked back up raising an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked in confusion Bokuto sighed reaching forward and raising my other hand. There around my ring finger was a thin red string. "Y/n's soulmate is here!?" Hinata yelled rushing over to see the string. "Oh cool I guess," I took my hand from Bokuto's grasp bringing it back down with a shrug.

"You're not excited about it?" Atsumu asked "Not really? Mom raised me to not worry about my soulmate so," I trailed off before I felt a strong tug on my hand. Looking down I noticed Hinata pulling on the string before someone pulled back.

I smacked his hand as he went to tug it again "quit doing that," I said moving to pick up my clipboard. "But thats how you find them! The stronger the tug the closer they are!" He shouted while I shook my head. "Hinata I'm not worried about my soulmate. The game is in 10 minutes so let's get you guys to the court," I stated looking at them.

"I don't get it how the hell are you Omi and Samu not interested in your soulmates!" Atsumu shouted as we left the changing room. "I'm just not big on the soulmate thing," I said with another shrug "I don’t really care if I find them or not," Sakusa added on with his own shrug.

"You guys are so boring! Y/n you're the first outta of the five of us to be close to your soulmate and you don't wanna meet them!?" Bokuto shouted in exasperation. "I dont see what the big idea is. I'm not interested in meeting my soulmate right now. Now go warm-up," I gently pushed the boys towards the court while I went to the bench.

I shook my head as Hinata mouthed "Find them," at me. I sighed as I watched them feeling a gentle tug against my finger my eyes drifted to the red string before I cautiously tugged back. It brought an odd sense of comfort to feel every tug on the thread and it almost seemed like a habit for them to nervously tug the string.

My eyes shifted back to the court as the game started. My hand made notes that occasionally got messed up when a tug shook my hand. I quietly hummed when I realized they were trying to find me.

Halfway through the game the tugs had become annoying. They started hindering my writing the closer they got and the boys had most definitely noticed my annoyed state. They had come over for water and towel during a short timeout while I was finishing a note for Bokuto when my hand was suddenly tugged sharply to the side scratching a mark across the sentence id just written.

"Son of a bitch!" I quietly cursed though it was loud enough that the four boys heard me. "You alright Y/n?" Atsumu asked and I glared at him. The boys froze at the icy gaze.

"No I'm not okay. Everytime I try writing these damn notes my soulmate tugs on the fucking string and ruins it. I'm fed up with it and quite frankly I really don't want to meet them at this point," I stated angrily. "Come on Y/n its just notes-" my glare shifted to Hinata as he spoke causing him to shiver.

"Just notes? It is my job to write notes. If the notes are unreadable I have failed at my job and you know what these notes are?" I held up my clip board before slamming it back down on the bench. "Unreadable!" I yelled before taking a breath. "Now finish your game boys and if you lose. Ill kill you," I sent them a threatening smile before they ran off to the court in fear.

___________________________________________

"I just don't get it man! How is she not excited!" I paused as I entered the shop. Hearing Bokuto yell as soon as I walked in. "I mean I get it. If my soulmate kept me from making Onigiri correctly I'd be mad," Osamu supplied waving to me as I walked in.

"Whats going on?" I asked looking at the guys Kuroo rubbed his forehead while Bokuto looked at me. "Please don't get him started on his damn manager again," Kuroo mumbled while Bokuto spoke up. "Hey Akaashi what's your idea of a soulmate?" I blinked at the sudden question "Someone who will be with you forever I guess," I said after I thought about it.

"Our manager doesn't care about meeting her soulmate!" Atsumu yelled out throwing his hands up while Kuroo groaned. I came over and sat down across from Bokuto. "You guys are making a huge deal out of it," Sakusa said rolling his eyes.

"Well she should care! I can't believe she went home instead of celebrating just to fix her notes," Hinata stated with a huff. "What happened?" I asked my eyes flickering to Osamu when he placed a tray of onigiri down in front of me.

"Y/n's soulmate was at today's game! They even kept tugging on the string but she said she didn't care!" I paused as I processed Bokuto's words. I had been at the game when my string appeared. I tugged on it whenever I got nervous during the game.

I had eventually followed it during break only to discover it led me to the doors on court and suddenly it all made sense. "Oh," I said when I realized. "What?" Hinata questioned and I shook my head. "Nothing just...my string also showed up during the game," I stated looking back at Hinata. "Oh," he said but then his face lit up "oh!" He stood up suddenly and Bokuto joined him.

"Oh my god! You think-?" Bokuto trailed off excitedly looking at me. "You guys saying he's her soulmate?" Atsumu also stood up in excitement. While Kuroo sent me a look that screamed 'What have you done?' "Guys there was a lot of people at the game," Osamu said rolling his eyes.

"Yeah doesn't mean Y/n is his soulmate," Sakusa also said with an agitated sigh. Bokuto snapped his head over to me with a wide excited smile. "Did you follow the string?" He asked bouncing in his spot. "A little bit during break yes," I said as I automatically started playing with my fingers.

"And?" Hinata drawled out leaning towards me. "...It lead me to the doors leading on court," there was a brief moment of silence before the three boys started screaming. "Someone get her over here right now!" Atsumu shouted while Hinata pulled out his phone.

It went dead silent as he called the boys seemed to freeze in place staring at the phone that was on speaker. "What the hell do you want?" All four boys flinched at the angry tone and Kuroo shivered at it. "We think we found him Y/n!" Hinata excitedly yelled.

"Found who?" She asked in confusion causing Atsumu to sigh in irritation. "Your soulmate Y/n!" He yelled in exasperation. "Fascinating. I don't care," She had responded back in annoyance. "Y/n come on! Just come to Onigiri Miya please!" Bokuto begged his eyes got big as he stared at the phone.

"No. And don't throw puppy eyes at the phone I know you're doing it," Bokuto sighed when it didn't work frowning as he tried to figure out what to do. "Please Y/n! Five minutes! I'll do anything you want!" Hinata joined in with a frown.

"I already said no. Now leave me alone or I block you," She stated before hanging up the phone. The three boys turned their gazes to me after staring blankly at the phone. I looked back at them slowly "...what?" I asked nervously before Atsumu smirked at me. 'Oh boy' I thought worriedly.

___________________________________________

'How the hell did I get here?' I thought as I stood infront of an apartment door. I assumed it was Y/n's since Bokuto had shoved me here and rang the bell. I was still getting my bearings when the door swung open revealing a girl with h/c hair and shiny e/c eyes.

She was wearing a black jackals hoodie and a pair of leggings. I noticed the red string trailed from her hand to mine confirming she was my soulmate. "Can I help you?" She asked with a sigh.

Her voice snapped me out of my reprieve and I gave her a shaky smile. "Hi um I think your my soulmate?" What I said came off as more of a question as she blinked at me. "Who are you?" She didn't check the string before she asked. Establishing that she wasn't lying on the phone she really didn't care. "Im Akaashi Keiji," I said holding out my hand.

She hummed as she took it shaking my hand as her eyes finally traced the string. "So. You're Bokuto's elusive friend and the one who made me ruin my notes," I flinched as she let go of my hand immediately going to play with my fingers.

"Sorry about that. I tugged on it whenever the game made me nervous," she was watching my hands before she suddenly reached out and took one. I froze at the unexpected move as she held my hand. "Sorry you were distracting me. Continue?" She asked as she laced her fingers with mine.

"I..um," I had lost my train of thought looking at the pale pink flush that had appeared on her cheeks. "A-anyway why are you against soulmates?" She shook her head at my question. "Im not it's just...my mom raised me to put finding my soulmate on the backburner and focus on my career so I did,"

She continued after a brief pause "She focused on her soulmate and ended up working as a waitress as her career. She wanted me to be successful and that meant no room for a soulmate," She shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world to not care about a soulmate.

"So...Where does that leave me?" I questioned quietly while she hummed. "Depends...are you gonna ruin my notes again?" She asked with a small smile. I smiled back when I realized what she was implying. "Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the day," She laughed as I spoke her eyes drifted to the side sparkling in mischief as she spotted something.

She leaned forward to whisper in my ear "Seems the three musketeers stayed to keep watch," She mumbled tilting her head as she pulled back. I turned my head slightly seeing Bokuto, Atsumu, and Hinata hiding around the corner. They were excitedly holding on to eachother and I shook my head looking back at her.

"Unfortunately," I supplied while she giggled. "Im sure you already know but my name is L/n Y/n," She said and I nodded confirming I did already know. Her eyes still held mischief as she leaned forward again. "I think we should give them something to watch," she whispered lowly.

My face flushed at the implication of what she said. "Y/n-," She cut me off with a kiss. They were soft and fit against mine perfectly much like her hand did. My eyes slipped closed as I kissed her back. I vaguely heard the screaming of the three guys.

She slid something into my free hand before pulling away. She smirked at me letting go of my other hand "Have fun with that," she threw a vague hand gesture to the boys before going inside and closing the door.

Looking down at my hand she had left a small white business card in my hand. Her number was stretched across the front and I pocketed it before walking away. As I got closer to the three guys I was suddenly tugged backwards and fell.

I looked at my hand to the string following it to see Y/n holding the string with a smile on her face. She winked at me before disappearing while I quietly chuckled.

'This was gonna be an adventure'

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TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

#haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#whosaskingfluff #whosaskingsoul #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi x reader

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 12

Click here if you are a first time reader.

Summary / TWs: Steve Rogers does not pass the vibe check yet again, le sad face. Loki is a good bro. Bruce fluff but what else is new? Literally everyone is a good bro, yo. Reader has best people. Tony's in there, kind of. Parents still suck.

For taglist: please send an ask if you changed your @! I noticed several people are unavailable :(

As always, my baby gay @miscmarvelwritings is the bestest beta!

"I think I am going to murder your father." Bucky's angry statement didn't surprise me. Neither did Steve's initial reaction, or anybody else's mostly pitying looks.

Bruce, my Bwucie, was calm and dejected. That worried me. I expected him to be at least a little bit green around the edges when Steve forcefully sat me down and made me explain the drunken, drugged stunt I'd done the night before, but alas, it seemed like Jolly Green was just sad. Or disappointed. And I didn't know which was worse.

The more I thought about it, the more defensive and abrasive I became. "And you'll kill yourself trying, he'll drive you fucking nuts" I responded to Barnes. "Honestly, I don't fucking see the problem here. My dad shows up five times a year at best. It's been like that forever. And it's not like I'm some kind of junkie," I defended myself, and my dad, because I really didn't see the huge deal about it. Relaxing once in a while doesn’t hurt anyone.

"It's not right!" Steve exclaimed, loosely banging a fist on the table. The self-righteous prick, seemed like he wanted to pick a fight just for the sake of it.

"And who are you, exactly, to say that? The moral police?" I blew up, standing and turning to the blonde man, hands on my hips. "Or you've decided to be my parent without asking me first? Keep your hopes up and maybe a fuck will magically appear, so I could give it to you."

He stood up in turn, getting uncomfortably close to my face. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was a very large, very strong man. "We want what's best for you! Can't you see it?" Rogers was getting red in the face, crossed arms, staring at me down like I was dirt under his shoes.

"How about..." I seethed, having to stop mid-sentence to swallow the scream that wanted to erupt. "How about... You FUCKING ask me what I want?"

"I suggest the Captain leave to go calm down," Loki suddenly piped up. He stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, picking at his food instead. Only after his sharply uttered words I noticed he had stood up. His hand hovered over my shoulder, body discreetly wedging between me and the Captain.

I heard Steve growl before he stormed off, throwing an annoyed look at Loki. A pregnant silence hung in the room. The longer it lasted, the more I wanted to crawl out of my skin, suddenly hyper aware of all these people - strangers, save a few - debating on what to do with me. Like I wasn't a person. Like...

"Ugh, fucking hell," I growled, beelining for my bag. I had definitely overstayed my welcome.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, standing up to follow.

"Home," I replied curtly, nodding my thanks to Loki for the intervention. He nodded back, walking off. I would have probably started swinging at the Icicle Dick if not for the raven haired Asgardian's timely interruption.

"I'll drive you," Banner trotted after me like a dejected puppy. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this, at all.

"I need to see Tony first. Meet you downstairs?"

Bruce nodded, looking even more confused.

Tony kissed me hungrily, in between promises to kill Steve and cancel my dad and get me my own apartment in the tower. Believing in fairy tales wasn't something I was ever prone to; I smiled, nodded along and did my best to shut him up with my own mouth on his. I left with the promise to text him as soon as I got home.

"How are you?" Bruce asked me as we once again drove through the busy city. This was becoming a nice habit but we really had to meet up when I wasn't going through another one of my turmoils.

"All things considered, I am great. Better than I've been in a while." I answered honestly, meaning it. However brief Tony's attention would be, it still satisfied me. Then and there I decided to always, always cherish what happened during my brief stint in his arms.

"Really?" Banner's warm smile was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. "Care to share?"

It threw me for a loop. I didn't know how much Tony wanted to disclose regarding what happened between us. I didn't know the extent of his friendship with Bruce. I didn't know...

"Tony," I choose the usual option. Admit what you can't deny, deny what you can't admit.

"I know the feeling," The good doctor chuckled, companionable-like and meaningful. "He tends to go all the way for the people he cares about. Too much, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?" I was confused. Sure, me and Tony were friends. But not, like, super close or anything. We'd fucked, or more like messed around, so I expected our friendship to grow colder. That's what happened when friends decided to bump uglies.

"I mean... He'll move mountains and challenge the government and bully them into dropping charges against you," There was a hint of sadness in Brucie's voice. I vaguely recalled seeing something on the news, something about the Hulk and a massive destruction spree. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

I reached out, putting a hand on his knee. He covered my palm with his own, giving it a brief, warm squeeze.

"It must be great having a friend like that. You're both wonderful and brilliant. You deserve no less," The smile threatened to split my face in two.

Bruce returned the smile but the sadness didn't go away. "You realize that extends to you, right?"

"Me? I'm just me, Bruce." I wasn't sure where this was going. "I'm Peter's classmate and the resident hot mess express."

Bruce frowned, deep and long, up until he parked. Life seemed to be taking back all the happiness it gave me previously-in fucking buckets. The strap of my bag was going to get its threads pulled out with the way I was fiddling with it.

"Baby… Princess?" The scientist turned to me, tone torn somewhere between stern and pleading. "Listen to me. You are brilliant. Incredibly smart, talented and beautiful. Don't ever, ever think of yourself as less than any of us." I gaped at him.

Did he mean us as the Avengers? Us as Tony and Bruce? Meanwhile he continued, "In fact, I think you are the one who deserves so much better. I don't know what Tony found in me… Or what you found in me."

Was the man an idiot or yes? That was the question of the day. Cursing Tony's affinity for small cars (bless me and my own SUV), I only hesitated a moment before grabbing the dumb Banner by his face and startling him into looking straight in my eye. "If you don't quit talking all that fake-ass bullshit, I will kiss you. On the mouth. With tongue."

"Uh," Was his articulate response. I watched him squirm, blush and lose the heat to his argument.

"Exactly. I've had it all with you idiots today. Next time someone says some stupid ass fucking thing, I will kiss them. On the mouth, with tongue. Pass it on," I exhaled, releasing his face and dropping my head onto his shoulder.

"Some way of solving conflict you have," Banner chuckled weakly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "I'd like to see Steve's reaction."

"A boner, probably, because he needs to get laid before he spontaneously combusts," I grumbled venomously, still bitter about his reaction. The Capsicle needed to chill. Hehe.

"I'll pass it on too," Bruce remarked wryly. "See you next week?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Bwucie, you're the fucking best," I kissed the scientist on the cheek, giving him a tighter than usual parting hug and walking up the pathway. Home.

Mother was nowhere to be seen - and the obvious reason for that laid on the kitchen floor. Couple of smashed dishes, a bottle of whiskey laying half-empty in a puddle on the grey tiles. The living room rug bore more stains and the smell of alcohol, bitter and acrid (like my soul, hardy har), hung heavily throughout the whole house.

At least I wasn't the only one who fought for myself that day. Mother probably had landed a good one on dad, too, by God the woman could be ruthless with her icy words. Dad never stood a chance. I've felt begrudgingly respectful of the way mother put people in their place with her words ever since I understood sarcasm.

First things first, I cleaned up the mess and opened the windows a smidge, cranking the air recuperation system to the max. Hanging around a place that smelled like a bum on a good Friday night was a horrible way to spend free time. Having successfully cut myself and bandaged the cuts up, I retreated to my room, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the quiet, stinky, creepy house that my home had become.

My phone was long dead so I plugged it in, waiting for the 2% to appear, turning it on. A few messages from Peter, first cheerful, then worried and then relieved. Tony must've placated the spider child and told him I was staying at the tower. Good call, Tones, or else poor Peter would've worked himself into an anxiety attack and crashed in a dumpster while patrolling. Or something. I still didn't quite get his spider-hero side-gig.

A text from Bruce - rather, a photo, of a disgruntled Steve with his eyebrows raised, titled "I told him the next time he freaks out, you will kiss him. With tongue. Barnes cackled for about ten minutes until he ran out of air."

And a text from Tony. My chest tightened when I opened it. "Good tactics. Sneaky, clever, I'd give it a B+."

I snorted. Then the phone beeped again and I froze. A text ordering me to be ready tomorrow, for a date night? Unreal. I was torn. A part of me was elated, thinking Tony wanted to keep me around like that. The other, more sensible part, was firmly telling me to chill TF down. He'll most likely kindly reject any further intimate interactions, maybe have me sign a few NDAs.

I still answered positive, mushy and cute and all. Feelings aside, I wasn't about to change my texting style for any man. My God, I was turning into a monster. A horribly cheesy, pink, soft, fluffy monster.

The next day, school was nearly unbearable. People talked. Not to my face, of course, since the rumours of me putting away Flash Thompson were still fresh enough for everyone to be cautious around me, but the whispers followed me throughout hallways, tongue in cheek remarks thrown at me from the bathroom stalls, behind the teacher's desks. Did I care? Nope.

Okay, I did, but not in the way one would think. The little spring in my step, a slight smirk. My thoughts were occupied with my upcoming dinner with Tony.

Peter and his pet nerds stood at my side, the ever watchful guards. I had no idea why they decided I needed reassurance or their comfort (I did not), but I had to admit it was cute. MJ, in particular, glared her Death Ray Stare at any male-identifying student that dared to as much as look wrongly in my direction. I mostly ignored the trio. Pete himself did a great job with entertaining his friends, he babbled on as usual, about everything and nothing in particular. Mouth ulcers. He was going to get them one day.

Dad called me during third period, saying he was flying off to California. I would have been lying if I said I didn't know why he scheduled the sudden trip; mother's total radio silence and the absence of her laptop in her own office spoke volumes about the state of my family's affairs. They had a fight and ran off to the opposite ends of the continent. I didn't understand why mother was upset with me, though. I saved her face during dinner at Tony's, so why is she mad about me going to a party with dad? Baffling woman.

Admitting the house felt like home when either of them were absent was hard. Or, perhaps, I felt nothing at all. Spending so much time around the Brady Bunch- the Avengers made me too soft for my own liking. It wasn't just Tony that lived in mind rent-free all the time now; there was Bruce, with his kindness, Bucky with his overgrown teenager attitude, Wanda with her wit and hair that smelled like cheap shampoo - seriously, I absolutely had to show her the benefits of decent hair products. That was just to list the few little quirks. There were so many people, all of them different and wonderful in their own way.

To summarize it, I was both happy for them and bitter for not having any of that to myself. Although it made me kind of glad I didn't have a sibling - looking after someone in the mess that mother and dad created would've been a nightmare. They say it's always a better place where we are not.

I went through a whole pack of cigarettes in a span of a couple of hours. Plagued by strangely melancholic thoughts, trying to push down the anxiety over my upcoming date, my choice of outfit proved to be a cumbersome task while in process.

Expensive but simple dress with spaghetti straps, in my favourite colour. That was the easiest part. A good base for any accessories. Would Tony like it? Would the press make outrageous comments?

Either way, it would. Dad's comments cut deeper than I probably realized it until now; in a sudden bout of self-awareness and a couple of mouse clicks later... Tony wouldn't care. Tony wears suits with sneakers. The Manolos flew back, towards my shoe closet, and a pair of Chanel trainers made their debut. A Hermes 2002 barely weighed down by my wallet, keys and phone. A nice coat, too, appropriately light and so very conceptual and fashionable.

I spent way too much time deciding on what to wear. A stern talking to, however, didn't help me, and I had to redo my make-up - the "nude", "all natural" look was one of the hardest to nail. Or so Marie Claire said. Whatever, my highlighter game was, as usual, on point.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)!

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

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random-fangirl003 · 4 years ago

Text

Notice Me - Nathan Drake

Fandom: Uncharted

Character(s): Nathan Drake, OCs, Sam Drake, Elena Fisher, Sully

Pairing(s): Nathan Drake x OC

Type: Oneshot

Warning(s): Cussing, Arguments, Pregnancy Mention, Teasing

Summary: Tired of playing second fiddle to Elena, Nathan's best friend decides to prove a point.

A/N: NEW TO THIS FANDOM, MIGHT GET STUFF WRONG!

Anyone who looked close enough, could tell that Savannah Grant was in love with Nathan Drake, and they could also see how much Nathan Drake loved Savannah Grant, but the two of them were as oblivious to their affections towards one another. So, they constantly spent time together, whether treasure hunting or otherwise, as best friends do. On the latest treasure hunt, Savannah had dug up information on the location of a map for Alaric's treasure, which was being sold in a charity auction, meaning that they would have to break in and steal it, or honestly bid on it, which was causing a bit of a dispute between the two best friends currently.

"No! No way!" Nathan huffs from where he's sitting, leaning back on two legs of his chair. "You can't just go into that auction unarmed and alone!"

"What?! I'm not strong enough to do it? Is that what you mean?!" Savannah demands, placing her hands on her hips.

"I never said that!" Nathan replies. "It's just too dangerous to go it alone!"

"Yet you had no problem sending Sully in alone, last time."

"That's different."

"How? How is it different, Nathaniel?! How is my going to an auction, while you do the exact see thing as last time, any different? In case you forgot, this is my treasure! I found it!" She growls, narrowing her eyes at him.

"It just is!" He replies as he stands up, pressing his hands on the table.

"If it were Elena, you'd have no problems with it!"

"That's different too! She's-"

"What?" She demands, cutting the treasure hunter off. "She's what? Stronger? Smarter? Prettier?"

"I never said any of those things!" Nathan yells, anger flushing his cheeks as she slams a hand on the table herself.

"You didn't need to." She growls as she presses off the table, her anger turning her vision red as she turns away. "I'm going! And if you're so fucking worried, I'll ask Michael to accompany me as my date!" She stalks off, leaving Nathan fuming behind her, Sully and Sam are off to the side of the room, completely forgotten.

"Michael?! How could she just invite that pompous, arrogant-?!"

"She is in charge, Nate. She's been doing most of the work this time." Sam points out, causing his brother to turn on him with wild eyes, raking a hand through his hair.

"But, he's played her so many times!" Nathan shouts as Sully holds up his hands.

"She's a big girl, she knows what she's doing." Her annoyance had bit at Nathan, and he knew she threw Michael's name into the fray, just to anger him, but he also knew that she would keep her word, and that jackass would be escorting her to the auction tomorrow evening.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." Nathan retorts sharply, leaving the room. Elena and Savannah are sitting on the roof top patio in the hot evening sun of Southern Italy, where the blonde journalist is trying to calm the ginger treasure hunter down.

"Look, he didn't mean it like that, Vannah." Elena grasps her friend's hand. "You just have a tendency to go head first into things, without thinking them through."

"Seriously?! You just don't understand why I'm doing this, do you?!" Savannah exclaims, rage still burning in her words. "Nathan sees me as a burden! All I ever do is screw up, some way or another. I want to show that I'm worth being in this, being by his- I mean your guys' side."

"You don't always screw up," Elena shakes her head, patting Savannah's hand. "I mean, remember the time Nate didn't remember to write down the pattern to a puzzle in his journal, and you remembered it all, in order? Or how about the time none of us could speak that one language, uh-"

"Taushiro. I wouldn't have learned if I hadn't wanted to show up Nate." Savannah sighs, leaning into her fist.

"Exactly! You and Nate may fight, but you bring our the best in each other. You just have to understand where you both are coming from, ya know?" Elena's words make Savannah sigh again as she runs her other hand through her wild curls, pulling away her hand as she grimaces at the muck that always seems to find it's way there, due to the constant running, fighting, and everything else that is entailed with treasure hunting.

"I guess you're right." Savannah stands with a hesitant smile, heading towards the stairs, only to pause. "Elena, you don't happen to... like Nate, right?" She asks, looking at the blonde from over her shoulder.

"I, uh-" Elena pauses, and let's out a shocked laugh. "No, it's not like that. Nathan is like a brother, I mean once, yeah, I did. But, you know how it is, I mean-"

"Is it Sam?" She turns bright red at that, causing Savannah to giggle, shaking her head. "You might want to talk to him about that."

"Like you can talk?" The journalist teases, causing Savannah to scoff, entering their hotel room.

"Savannah, I-" Nathan starts as he walks over to her from the other room, but Savannah pushes past him.

"I need a shower, Nathan. Then to make a call." She slams the door to the room that she and Elena share, grabbing her toiletries, clothes, and a towel, before exiting her room to enter the bathroom, leaving Nathan standing in the hallway, stunned at her behavior.

The silent treatment continues through the night, and into the next day, where Elena and Sully go over the layouts of the mansion where the auction is being held, and the plan for the others, while Savannah spends the day getting ready. At half past eight, she finally leaves her room, entering the living room in a shimmering blue dress with a slit up her thigh, and silver high heels on. "God, my stomach is in knots." Savannah says as she walks over to the kitchenette, Nathan's mouth dropping open at the sight of her, Sam's and Sully's mouths aren't far along.

"Don't you look nice!" Elena says brightly as she pulls out supplies for a sandwich. "You are probably hungry."

"No, I'm in heels and a dumbass dress, that feels like I had to be slathered in Crisco to get into. I hate being unable to wear my boots, and clothes I can fight or defend in. You ever see someone ungraceful, who could dodge a bullet in a dress?" Elena shakes her head with a laugh, and starts to spread mayo over her bread.

"Well, eat before you go. You'll feel better." Elena says.

"No way, if I eat one bite, every seem in this thing will split open." Savannah says as she glances back at the dumbstruck men, who are watching her, instead of preparing for the night. "Are they alright?"

"You look like a girl!" Sam says, causing her to snort.

"I am a girl." She points out, causing Nathan to snap his mouth shut, slugging Sam in the arm.

"Yeah, but you don't look it!" Sam replies, causing Savannah to sigh, threading her fingers through the one long sleeve of her dress, feeling rather sheepish now.

"Well, you look lovely, Sav." Sully says, pressing out of his chair, before crossing to her with a cigar clenched between his teeth.

"Thanks Sully, I'd give you a hug, but Elena lent me her expensive perfume, I don't want to smell like cigarettes too, I'll smell like a hooker." She giggles at Sully's affronted expression, there's a knock on the door that silences them all. "That'd be Michael." She says, grabbing her clutch from the table by the door, and opening it to show a suave man in a tux, his black hair is slicked back, and he has a cocky smirk on his clean shaven face.

"V-V." Michael sweeps her up in a hug, causing her to let out a surprised laugh, hugging him back as Nathan grits his teeth, clenching a fist behind her. "How have you been, luv?" He asks as he pulls back to set her to the floor.

"Living one day to the next." She answers honestly, before walking over to grabbing her shawl from the chair beside Nathan, not even sparing him a glance as she walks back towards Michael. "Well, are we going?"

"Indeed," He grabs her hand, bringing it up to press a kiss to her gloved knuckle, before tucking it into his arm. "far well all, enjoy your evening." He bids, telling them all that Michael has no clue what is really going on as Savannah waves, closing the door behind them after, a sweep of her shawl over her shoulders. During the drive to the mansion, Savannah and Michael make polite conversation with one another, while back at the hotel the others are getting dressed, and preparing for the sting, while Nathan seethes in his anger.

Pulling up to the mansion, Savannah removes the invitations from her pouch as Michael rounds to the other side of the car, opening her door, before offering a hand to help her out of the car. Taking it, the ginger treasure hunter stares up at the manor, her green eyes wide as Michael chuckles, tucking her hand through his arm. "Are you sure you'd rather be here, than somewhere else for our date? I'm only in Italy for the weekend."

"Michael, you're my escort, this isn't a date." He fakes a wounded look as he walks her towards the door, where the guards study their invitations, and scan her purse, before allowing them in. The main foyer is full of people in fancy dress, the artifacts are spread out on the tables for examining, there is music, dancing, a grand chandelier, and a champagne fountain with flutes next to it for drinking. "Will you get me a drink? I want to look at the artifacts." Michael nods, giving her a teasing bow as she starts towards a table, pretending to be examining a golden plate as she pulls out a lipstick container from her purse. Pretending to put the lipstick on, she pulls the ear piece out of the bottom, sticking it in her ear, before smacking her lips together as she puts the lipstick away.

"Check check, Sav can you hear me?" Sully asks as she let's out a hum of acknowledge, though to others it might seem like she's humming along to the music.

"We're outside right now," Nate says, his voice a welcome distraction from the pit in her stomach. "I'm working on getting the passage under the mansion open for the others."

"V-V, luv?" She turns to the British ambassador as he walks over with two champagne flutes, offering her one as she bites her lip.

"Actually, I haven't ate yet. I really shouldn't drink on an empty stomach." She says, causing Michael to deflate as Nathan chuckles in her ear, causing her to struggle not to roll her eyes.

"No matter," Michael sets the flute on a passing waiter's tray, tucking her hand into his arm again. "I do wish you had mentioned something, I would have made sure you ate before we had come."

"I'm alright." She says as they both start to wander around, her looking for the artifact that hides the map, and Michael watching Savannah's expressions and mannerisms.

"Savannah, I need you to open the servant's door leading to the kitchen." Nate's voice is in her ear, making her swallow thickly as she glances at the clock.

"Michael, I'm going to go to the bathroom and fix my make-up-"

"Ah, luv, no need, you are beautiful, as always." Michael reaches up to brush a wild curl from her face, and she blushes.

"Oh please." Nathan says in the ear piece, making Savannah's face to crumple, and Michael frowns.

"What's wrong?" She shakes her head, forcing herself to smile convincingly.

"My stomach is eating itself. I'm going to pop into the kitchen and grab something."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Michael asks, grasping her hand as she pulls away, and she looks back at him.

"I'll ask permission if anyone spots me." She gives a teasing grin. "Besides, mister ambassador, I remember the two of us having quite a bit of fun sneaking around, while we were younger." Michael chuckles, rubbing his neck as Nathan makes a gagging sound in the mic as Savannah struts away, her path towards the kitchen dead ahead. Slipping into the kitchen is fine, the servants merely sent questioning looks, though seeing her attire they left her alone, most guests were allowed to do as they wished, as long as they caused no trouble. The area around servant's door to the kitchen was abandoned, but she was careful when resting upon the wood, her back flat against it as she looked around, watching the servants carefully as she unlocked and opened the door.

"Finally!" Nathan groans as he enters, dressed to the nines as she glares at him, holding out her hand for her pistol- with Nate, shooting was never far behind. He hands the weapon to her, making her throw back the skirt of her dress from the slit, and slide the gun into the holster on her leg, Nate's eyes trailing up and down her legs as she tugs the gown back into place.

"Have you found the artifact?" Elena asks, entering the kitchen in a waitressing outfit.

"The map is in the vase, like I thought. Lot number 31." Savannah says, holding out a stolen apron from a kitchen cart. Elena pulls on the apron, tying up her hair as Sam ties the apron behind her back, he's in his own waiter outfit, and Sully is obviously waiting in the car for their getaway.

"Do we need the vase?" Sam inquires, causing her to roll her eyes.

"The map is in the vase." She replies, making him frown. "It's also from the year Alaric died, we might need it- it could contain a clue, or be part of a puzzle, so yes. It's not a very big vase, and it's more than likely full of dirt, considering it looks like an urn, but the marking indicate that it isn't."

"So, we're stealing the map, vase and all." Nathan replies, and Savannah looks at him, before frowning.

"You're supposed to be a waiter."

"I couldn't find a uniform in my size, so I knocked out a guest, and stole his clothes." She wrinkles her nose, attempting to hold back a giggle as Nathan smiles. "I'm a guest now."

"Well, Michael knows who you are, so if he asks why I didn't come with you, tell him the truth. We're fighting." She states.

"Are we really?" Nathan asks, causing her to glare at him. "You are beautiful tonight... so beautiful." He says softly, causing her to blush as she looks away, shuffling a bit until Sam clears his throat, looking up as Elena elbows the older of the Drake brothers in the stomach, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and starts towards the party.

"Show time." Elena says into the ear piece, making Savannah paste a smile on her face, exiting the kitchen alone. She heads over to Michael, an apology on her lips as he smiles at her.

"Sorry, I had to meet Nate at the door. We're fighting, but he insisted on coming." Michael frowns as he glances around, probably for Nathan, as Savannah smiles up at him. "I'll take that champagne now." He nods his head, grabbing her hand to tuck it into his arm, before escorting her towards the champagne fountain.

"I hope he doesn't interrupt our time again, tonight. I have missed you V-V." She forces herself to continue to smile.

"Gross. Watch, next he'll say he wants to get back together." Nathan hisses in her ear as she takes the flute of champagne from Michael, sipping on it the bubbling drink.

"I mean it, V-V, my love. I made a mistake, I wish to be with you once more." Savannah chokes, spitting her drink right in Michael's face, coughing out an apology as Elena, as a waitress, hands him a napkin from her apron. Savannah takes the other napkin, dabbing at her chin as Elena shoots her a sympathetic grin, walking behind Michael to hover.

"I-I am so sorry." She coughs, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to-" He wipes his face with the napkin.

"No no, you didn't do anything wrong, luv." Elena pretends to stick a finger down her throat behind him. "I merely chose the wrong moment to speak my mind." He continues to wipe his face as she sets the drink down.

"I-Look, Michael, you really hurt me last time, you took advantage of my heart and my feelings, and I just- I just felt that I could never love again. You know how difficult it was for me to trust you, the only other person I could ever trust like that, was Nate." Michael clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, you have turned me down. My heart is now the one to have been played."

"Michael, I never said this was a date, and I never implied that we'd be in a relationship. I needed an escort, that is all. And, as a friend, I thought we could-"

"You've still rejected me!" Michael says, anger in his voice.

"Shh, please, don't make a scene." She begs softly.

"Can I at least be told why? Am I not man enough? Did I hurt you too much?"

"No, that's not it. Well, it's sort of it, but I just-" She bites her lip, looking around. "I just-"

"She's with me." She jumps at the feeling of a familiar arm falling around her waist, pulling her tightly against the person's side, and she looks up to see Nate. "We've been fighting, so I asked her to at least, if she didn't want me to come, invite someone she knew could be trusted, to escort her tonight. What can I say? We fight, but I love her." Savannah's heart pounds and sputters at those words, making her blush as Michael looks at her for confirmation, and she freezes, then slowly nods.

"I see. As far as I can tell, you've made up quite well, and I shall be on my way." Michael bows, walking away with arrogance in his stride as she glances back up at Nate, before she pushes him away a bit.

"I had that!" She snaps, causing Nate to roll his eyes.

"Not from what I saw. Elena was about ready to pour champagne on the guy, to get him to leave." Rubbing her arm, she swallows thickly, glancing at Elena, who is handing out drinks to guests, and she sets her own down.

"So, you decided to play the noble hero and sacrifice yourself for the greater good of the mission?" She scoffs, roll her eyes as she walks away. Nathan grabs her by the wrist, turning her back to him.

"Hey, I never said that! What the hell is with you lately?" Her face falls as she jerks her wrist from his grasp.

"Let's just finish this mission, and I will be out of your hair for good!" She snaps, stalking off towards the artifact, waiting until everything goes dark, and her night-vision contacts come flooding to life, allowing her to slink silently to the table. She quick in grabbing the vase from the table, before hurrying towards the kitchen door. Just as she slips inside, Nathan, and Elena right on her tail, the foyer floods with light again. Tossing the vase to Nathan, who hides it in his pocket, Sam meets them at the servant's door, the four of them exiting without anyone noticing. Or so they thought.

"So, hey," Nathan whispers as they slink through the mansion. "what did you mean by out of my hair "for good"? Are you leaving after this hunt?" She glares at him as she takes measured steps, ignoring his question.

"Who goes there?!" A guard shouts, causing her to flinch at the sound of her heels hitting the floor, and Nate turns his flashlight on them. "The wind?" The guard asks, causing her to glance at the guard from behind the pillar, watching him walk away. Her breath stutters in her relief as she stands flush against the stone pillar, the others are just as quiet around her.

"Take them off, Sav!" Elena whispers in a rush, causing Savannah to nod.

"I'm on it." She shuffles nearly silent as she struggles to get the heels off, then she tosses them to Sam, who hurriedly catches them, before padding up to the guard as he turns back towards them, his flashlight barely hits her toes, before she swings her arm up. Driving her elbow into the guard's head, she knocks him out as he drops to the floor like a sack of rocks, his flashlight rolling across the floor. Nathan whistles softly, impressed as he drags the unconscious guard behind a flower box to hide him, and the four of them continue on their route.

"Are you going to answer me?" Nate asks after a few minutes of silence, then as they round another corner, she just shoots him a glare.

"Now is not the time, Nathan." She retorts as the whistling of a bullet goes past her head, skimming across her cheek as it blows her hair past her eyes, and they all turn, Nathan pushing Elena behind the nearest cover as Savannah dodges another bullet, dropping behind cover. The darkness provides ample cover as she pulls out her gun, and she nods to Nathan, who in turn nods to her, the two of them taking turns to pop out of cover to shoot, not a single word said between them, while Sam scouts ahead.

"How about now?!" Nathan asks as he presses against the pillar, reloading as Savannah pops out of cover, shooting one of the guards in the shoulder, making the guard scream as he falls.

"No, Nathan!" She replies, shooting down another guard. "Why does it always end in a firefight with you?"

"Brilliant question! Let's ask them next time." Elena says as Nathan pops out of cover, firing as Savannah drops back into cover, reloading her gun.

"Are you leaving?!" Nathan asks as he fires one last round, and the final guard falls, the three of them standing as Sam pops up from the route ahead, beckoning them silently. "Hey," Nathan grabs her hand, tugging her to a stop as Elena and Sam continue on ahead. "are you?"

"Nate-"

"Don't Nate me! Are you leaving? Are you done after this?" Nathan asks, his face is sad.

"I-I don't know." She answers truthfully, looking at the ground. "I just don't know." She pulls away, starting towards the exit, followed by Nathan. Sully is as quick a get away as always, the four of them are in the car with the door barely closed, before Sully is peeling out of the mansion gates, the guards start to pile out of the mansion, guns firing. "Heads down!" She shouts, pushing Nate's head down as she drops her head into his lap, a bullet piercing the back window, and out the front. Sully drives like a mad man, swerving and stopping and driving in and out of alleyways and places where a car can barely fit, Nate's arms are around Elena, making Savannah feel bad as she struggles to stay in her seat from the jostling, unable to latch her seatbelt, unlike the others. The bridge on the way to the hotel starts to lift up before them, and Sully clenches the wheel, gunning the engine.

"Hold on!" Sully shouts, driving off a bridge as she let's out a scream, Nathan's eyes go wide when he sees her flying from her seat, his arms reaching out to catch her, jerking her into his lap as Sully lands on the other side of the bridge, and the guards chasing them have no choice but to stop as Sully speeds away. She gasps, clinging to Nathan's arms that are secured firmly around her, heart pounding for two different reasons as Nathan murmurs calming words in her ear, stroking her arm. Nathan holds her shaking form all the way back to the hotel, where Sully swerves around the back, into the underground parking space, allowing Sam to help Elena out as Sully climbs out, Nate muttering that the older man is a "son of a bitch" as he unbuckles, pushing Savannah into a sitting position as he slides out of the car. She sits still as a stone, her heart pounding so hard that it aches, and her eyes wide from the terror flushing from her veins, she doesn't even notice Nathan opening her door, turning her around as he places a warm hand against her cheek.

"Sav? Hon? We're back." Nathan murmurs, causing her to blink, sucking in a sharp breath as she looks around, head jerking from one direction to the other, before she slowly climbs out of the car, her bare feet touching the ground for barely a moment, before Nathan sweeps her into his arms, Bridal style.

"N-Nate?" She asks in confusion.

"You're still a bit shocked, right?" He closes the car door with his shoe, following the others to where they disappeared into the hotel, and when they return to their hotel room, nobody says anything while Nathan whisks Savannah away to his bedroom. "You've got a bit of blood on you," Nathan says as he comes back from the bathroom with a damp rag, having set her on the foot of his bed. "I also grabbed some bandages for your feet. You didn't say anything, but you probably have blisters on your ankles from those heels, huh?" Savannah looks away, sheepishly as Nate scrubs at her elbow, where she can already feel a bruise under the blood, from knocking that one guard out, and then he moves to her cheek, where the first bullet had barely gazed her. He hadn't said anything, but his heart about stopped when he heard and saw that bullet coming at her, and while he pushed Elena down, he had wanted to tackle Savannah to the ground, and shield her with his entire body. "You were shot."

"I'm fine." She answers truthfully, he drops the rag, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, before she looks at him, eyes finally focusing. "I am, Nate." She covers his hand with her own, causing him to lighten up on the pressure, taking a deep shaking breath. "I'm fine." He leans up, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before he pulls back to kneel, taking her foot to clean it, before placing a bandage over one of her heels, where a blister is. He does the same with the other as she let's out a soft sigh, looking out the window beside the bed. "You were reckless tonight." She says, causing him to glance up at her, she realizes that he's shed the jacket of his pilfered suit, and he is now fiddling with the strap to the holster on her leg. "I understand that you're worried about Elena, but how many times has she been through this?"

"I don't know what you mean." Nate says defiantly as Savannah sighs.

"You were circling Elena like a guard dog, you wouldn't even give her a gun. It was an argument for her to even be allowed to join us on this mission!" Savannah pushes a stray curl from her face. "You know that she can take care of herself, she has more proved it, I just don't get why you suddenly have become so overprotective of-"

"Elena is pregnant." Nathan says as he sets her holster on the bed, looking up at her from where he squats, watching her press her lips together in a firm line, her eyes flicking across his face to determine if he's telling the truth.

"She's... and are you-?"

"No!" Nathan scoffs, rolling his eyes at her implication. "Sam is." She snaps her mouth shut, smiling a bit as she shakes her head.

"And they didn't want to distract from the treasure hunt, so they hid the pregnancy and kept their relationship a secret." She rolls her eyes.

"You've been after this treasure for a couple years now. It's understandable on why they'd want to keep quiet if you finally got a lead." She huffs a curl of hair from her face, but it just drops back down, making her sigh as she pushes it back behind her ear.

"So, you aren't with Elena?" Nathan blanches at that, as if the idea makes him sick. "God, if someone had just told me that!" She groans, pressing her palms to her eyes. "I mean, Elena said there was nothing going on, but with how protective you've been, and reluctant you've been about treasure hunting, I just thought- I guess I dunno, that you guys wanted out, so you could settle down in peace? I thought maybe Elena told me what she told me, because you guys were trying to cut me out!"

"Never, Sav. You are my best friend." Nathan says as he stands, and she slowly rocks to her feet.

"Now, don't even try to lie to me about your relationship with Chloe, after we all separated from each other a couple years back." Nathan groans as he presses his face into his hand, shaking his head.

"You're never going to leave that be, are you?" He asks as she waltzes to the bedroom door, tugging the fraying hairband out of her flaming mane, letting the curls fly free.

"She dumped you in the end, didn't she? What happened there, Nate? You were a good match, the double agent and the blind buffoon." She teases as Nathan glares playfully at her.

"None of your business, huh? The only thing she was right about, is missing her ass." Nate retorts as she throws back her head, laughing as the first rays of the sun catch in her mane from the window, lighting it on fire as she slips out, ready to finally look at the map to Alaric's treasure, and get some sleep after being up and on the run all night.

It takes weeks of searching, clue after clue, until eventually they find the treasure- Elena and Sam had taken off almost a week previous, for the safety of the baby, and Sully had ducked a week before with the same excuse as always, "I'm getting too old for this shit!" and that left Nate and Savannah, still slightly at odds, left to chase the treasure. Of course, like all of the hunts involving the Drake boys, this one was a race to the vault, in the middle of a Southern Italian countryside, and lots and lots of guns. "Duck!" Savannah shouts at Nathan as she tosses a grenade over their cover, dropping down as the little ball rolls into enemy cover, and Nathan throws his hands out, slapping them over her ears as the explosion goes off, leaving his ears ringing.

"Think before you throw, Sav!" He hisses as he rubs at one of his ears, and she gives a sheepish grin as she leans around the stone they're behind, firing quickly at any stragglers.

"Ah shit!" She shouts, swinging back around to press against the stone, her hand gripping her shoulder of her dominant arm, gun having been dropped in her panic.

"W-What?" Nathan asks as he continues to fire, and she shakes her head.

"No, it's nothing. Keep shooting." She says as she reaches into a pocket of her cargo pants, ripping a bandage from the pocket, and sliding her shirt sleeve up, her hand pressing the adhesive bandage to the bloody wound. "Are you ready to move ahead yet?" She asks, shouldering her shotgun after she grabs it, and Nate looks at her, spying the blood smeared down her arm.

"Sav, are you okay?!" He asks worriedly, causing her to nod, wincing noticably, making him give her a look that says he's not buying it.

"I'm fine, let's just get to the treasure vault." She rolls out of cover, back flush against a barrier that one of the enemies had setup, before she glances around the corner, then clambers to her feet with her shotgun holstered, her dominant arm useless while injured. Picking up a fallen enemy's pistol, she checks the clip, before she slides it back in, cocking the gun, readying to shoot as they move through the countryside.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at that?" Nate asks as he watches blood seep through the white bandage and the green of her shirt. "You might need stitches." She shakes off his hand when he reaches for her arm.

"I'm fine, Nate! Let's just get to the vault." She says again, making Nate groan, chasing after ambitious young woman as they duck around passages, shooting a couple more enemies, and solve a couple more riddles, before they both enter the vault, where the leader of their enemies- Michael himself (honestly, why is she not surprised?), is stalking back and forth, flaunting and rambling his victory to the rest of his men.

"-this wealth, nobody would dare to reject me again!" He booms as they press against nearby pillars, and Nate shoots her a look.

"You dated this guy? What does he have performance issues that he needs to compensate for?" Nathan hisses as she rolls her eyes.

"I wouldn't know, we never went that far." She reaches into a pocket of her pant, pulling out silencers for their pistols, one of which she tosses to Nate. They waste no time screwing the silencers onto their guns, before she lurches around a cover, and a muted shot leaves her gun, striking one of the men on the balcony above in the middle of the forehead, he drops dead as she leans back into cover.

"Nice shot." Nate whispers as she blushes, watching him do the same from his place, they are silent at picking off the men on the balconies above the vault as the other men start to carry out the treasure, the opposite direction of where the treasure hunters are.

"With this, I can make her pay, make them all pay!" Michael rambles, unaware of his men dropping dead around him, until they've all been picked off. Putting away her pistol, she shoulders her shotgun, training it on Michael as Nathan watches her back.

"Michael!" The British ambassador turns, eyes wide as he sees her. "What've you done? Why are you here?"

"Ah, V-V, my luv. I see you've brought... your friend." He grimaces at Nate, before looking back at her. "I figured that since you had an interest in this treasure, perhaps you might be willing to come back to me, if I had it first. I had planned on telling you back in England, but you were a saucy minx, and hot in my trail. I needed to move quickly."

"What happened to you?" She asks as Michael gives her a crazed grin.

"Love, my darling. It does things to a man, things he never thought possible." Michael trains his gun on Nathan, making her freeze as she looks back him, seeing Nathan freeze as two big guys come in, grabbing him by the arms after wrestling the gun away from him, one kicks it towards Michael, making her eye it as she throws down her shotgun, she knows the drill by now. "Now, I will give you a choice- it's not a hard one. Come with me, and live in the lap of luxury and be my wife. Or, choose Mr. Drake over there, and die with the man you love."

"What?!" She barks, looking at Nathan, who shakes his head, urging her to not sacrifice herself for him. "You can't be serious, Michael! You can't just kill him, f-for-"

"I can and I will!" Michael booms, his shout making her flinch as she glances at Nate, who watches her in fear. A plan forms in her head as she turns to Michael, and she starts to edge towards him a bit.

"Michael," Her voice falling into a more sultry tone as she sways over to him, making the Brit grin sickeningly sweet.

"Sav, what're you doing?!" Nathan exclaims as she turn to him, pinning him with a glare, before discreetly shooting Nathan a wink, before she wraps her arms around Michael's neck.

"Oh, Michael, can't you tell when a girl is playing hard to get?" She asks, running a finger up the ambassador's chest, causing the man to purr as he wraps his arms around her, and she rests her head against his chest. "I had Nathan fake being my boyfriend at the party, to make you jealous. You're so sexy when you're jealous." She swallows the rising bike in her throat as she leans up on her tip toes as Michael grins, leaning down with their lips hovering near each other, until he freezes as she buries the pistol into his stomach, making him freeze. "Call them off." She hisses as he glances up at her, before he looks at the man, then waves the men off, and they drop Nathan, who dives for his gun, turning to sink a bullet between both the men's eyes. "Now, we are leaving-" She let's out a choked noise as something sharp sinks into her side, pain lancing through her side.

"NO!" Nathan let's out a panicked shout as Michael pushes her away, and she stumbles back, her hand coming to her side to press against the soaked material of her shirt. She looks up, seeing a blade glistening with her blood, in Michael's hand as her knees become weak, she falls to the floor as he brings the blade up, licking the gleaming silver with a disgusting hum. Nathan let's out an enraged scream, unloading the remaining clip of his gun into Michael's body with a scream. "No no no no!" Nate murmurs quickly as he scrambles over to her, once Michael's body collapses, dropping to his knees to press his callus covered hands on her side, making sure to put pressure against her wound as he looks around. Eyeing the only other exit, he lifts her into his arms, following the trail that the looters took, leaving her behind a cover as he takes out the rest of the men on the only truck, which is loaded with gems and gold.

"N-Nate," She calls weakly as he rushes back to lift her into his arms, the world is blurry as she looks around, letting out a whimper when he starts to run, jostling her wounds. "Nathan-" She whimpers, and he shushes her as he lays her in the front of the truck, buckling her up.

"You're fine. You'll be fine!" He repeatedly says, turning the key in the ignition, gunning it through the trees, gravel spitting everywhere as she groans at the jerking movements of the truck. "I'm sorry, Sav. I know sweetheart, I know. I know it hurts, but it'll be okay, you'll be okay." He promises as he starts towards the small town they were staying in now, not far from the vault as he starts making calls while he pulls into town. He barely has the truck in park, key out of the ignition, before he rounds to her side, climbing into the giant truck to lift her, carefully, out of the truck, yelling at the townies for the doctor.

Days now move sluggishly as he paces constantly outside of the medical clinic, his eyes flicking from his phone to the door, to the truck to back again. The treasure they had loaded into the truck was a good amount, but nobody knew except for Nathan, but he couldn't even focus with Savannah incapacitated. Sully, Sam, and Elena eventually make it to the town, if you could even call the practical village, a town, but the doctors still do not give any updates on Savannah's status, despite Nate constantly prodding and camping outside of the clinic every night and day.

"If she dies-! I-If I lose her-" Nate groans, running his fingers through his short hair.

"Nate, kid, relax. You ain't gonna lose her." Sully says from his spot on a crate, flicking his cigar.

"No, Sully, she was distracting him for me! She sacrificed herself, made herself vulnerable for me! So, I could escape. It's all my fault." Elena huffs as Nate's stalking back and forth before the door increases, his fingers digging against the root of his hair.

"I always knew that Michael was an off bastard, but this is sickening." Sam says as Sully and Elena both nod in agreement. "He licked her blood off the blade?"

"Yes." Nate replies, he remembers the look on Michael's face as he licked Savannah's blood off the blade, the disgust rolls through Nathan again at the memory of ecstatic look that Michael had on his face, from Savannah's blood on his lips. "He looked like an addict getting his fix."

"Like an addict getting his fix?" Elena shutters as she looks at Sam, who clenches her hand in understanding of her concern. "God, and Savannah once thought she was in love with that creep."

"Let's not talk about that." Sully says as Nathan runs his fingers his hair, tugging his hair at the roots as he groans, stalking up to the door to the clinic, fist poised to pound on the door, when it flies open.

"D-Doc?" Nate's voice is worried as the doctor wipes his hands off on a rag, tossing it over his shoulder.

"Your friend will live. We did not want to give you news until we were sure." The Doctor says as he looks at everyone, before he looks up at Nate. "You may see her, but only one at a time." The Doctor enters the clinic, leaving the door open as Nathan looks back at the trio that are looking at him.

"We can wait, Nate. Go see her." Elena urges, causing him to nod, ducking into the clinic towards the back room, where the Doctor had motioned him to be, and he pauses outside the door, before opening it to the room. The bed occupies Savannah's weak form, with bandages wrapping her shoulder and her stomach, up over her chest, so she is left in only her pants, and a threadbare blanket over her legs. Her long ginger mane is pinned beneath her, tied back with a strip of leather, and caked with sweat, congealed blood, and muck. Walking around the bed, Nate kneels on the floor beside her, grasping her hand that was resting on her stomach, his eyes down-turned as he rests his forehead against her hand.

"Sav," He sighs weakly, his thumb rubbing back and forth across her soft knuckles. "I am so sorry. For everything." He murmurs as he looks up at her. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but if you could just... I know the doctor said you'd be fine, but I need to to pull through. I need you to open your eyes, and show me that you'll be fine. I-it's been almost a week, so please, let me know that you're okay. Just open your eyes, Vannah." He groans as he runs a grungy hand over his face, then looks up at her face again. "You said that you wanted to leave, that you were done... can you please wake up, and tell me that you are done. Call me an idiot again. Anything. If you want to be done, we'll be done together, I promise. If you want to start a normal life, we can start a normal life together." He reaches up to caress her freckled cheek. "I can't live without you, Sav. I-I love you." He rests his forehead on her hand again, feeling exhaustion washing over him. "Did you hear me, Sav? I'm in love with you! So, just... open your damn eyes! Let me kiss you, or you can yell at me, you can slap me for all I care! Just wake up!" Nate pleads, clutching her hand tighter as he grits his teeth.

"Nate?" His head snaps up, but Savannah is still unconscious, causing him to turn, seeing Elena standing in the doorway, her eyes are sad. "I-I couldn't wait, I was so worried."

"It's okay," He clears his throat as Elena looks at Savannah, then back at Nathan.

"She loves you too, you know?" He furrows his brow as Elena smiles to herself. "She'd kill me by now, if she were awake, but you deserve to know." He runs his fingers through Savannah's hair, before he presses off the ground beside the bed.

"I'll be outside if-"

"No no no, you deserve to stay in here. Be the first thing she sees when she wakes up." Elena waves him off, pressing a hand to her back to stretch, after the last couple weeks, she's starting to show a bit. "Besides, Sam and I are going to head to the hotel, your niece or nephew is killing me."

"Alright," He pulls her into a hug, letting go the minute that he hears an agonized cry, turning to see Savannah's eyes wide open as she holds her side, while trying to sit up. "Sav!" He crosses to her side once more, easing her up off her elbow as she let's out a tearful whine. "It's okay, easy hon." He props the flat pillows up, leaning her back against them as he sits on the side of the bed, tucking a wild curl behind her ear.

"N-Nate?" She swallows thickly, causing him to grab his canteen off the belt, twisting the cap off, and placing it to her lips. She takes long pulls of the water, before turning her head away, wiping her mouth on her arm as Nathan chuckles, putting the canteen away. "Where are we? How long have I been out?" She murmurs, causing him to smirk.

"We're in the village, not far from the vault. You've been out for a week..." She looks at him questioningly, but he shakes his head. "The longest week of my life. I've missed your voice." He cups her cheek as she frowns.

"I'm so-"

"No. You didn't know." He leans forward, pressing his forehead to her own. "You just wanted me to be safe, I just wish you hadn't had to get hurt by that freak, in order to keep me safe." She looks confused as he pulls her close, kissing her deeply. She makes a noise of surprise, but falls into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You don't know how long I've been dying for that to happen." She murmurs as she leans away, looking up into his blue eyes, seeing them spark with light after her words register with him.

"You have been?" He asks softly, causing her to blush, pressing her lips together in a firm line as she nods. "I'm in love with you, Sav. I have been for years."

"Really?" She asks softly, skeptical and hoping as he smiles, nodding. "You couldn't have told me, I dunno, before I almost died?" Nathan chuckles at her words, leaning in to kiss her again.

Hope I've done the characters justice, I'm seriously new to this fandom- like I just started watching a playthrough yesterday. But, Nathan is just so nnn. I couldn't not write a story. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, sorry if the characters are a little OOC.

#nathan drake imagine #nathan drake x reader #nathan drake #Nathan Drake x OC #Jealous Nathan Drake #Jealous OC #uncharted #uncharted imagine #Uncharted Oneshot #Nathan Drake x OC oneshot

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stoopsbookstore · 5 years ago

Text

The Fan (Chapter 8)

Warnings - Fights, Drugs, Death

"Can you tell us what has happened, miss Y/N?"

Y/N blankly stared at the center of the metal table, Jieun and the cops waiting for anything to come out of her mouth. Screenshots and pictures have been placed in front of her, memories of them freezing her in terror. Hongjoong, Haeun and the other members waited outside the room, Hongjoong and Sanghee staring at them through the one-way mirror.

"It's all her fault."

Hongjoong turned to Sanghee, her fists clenched in rage as they watched like they were at a zoo, "what do you mean?"

"It's her fansite, she jumped on your cock. She was never satsitfied with being just the main dancer, she wanted to be the main vocal, she wanted to be the leader, she wanted a solo car-"

"Stop projecting, Sanghee," Chinsun stopped the slander of Y/N, Sanghee whipping her head around.

"Am I wrong though? It was always Y/N this, Y/N that, what about us?" Sanghee pointed to Yunhee, "She's working on an acting degree, but 'oh no shes too young, can we have Y/N please?' What the hell is that?"

"You had a colla-"

"Oh, the chorus of 5 words with LE and Solji from EXID in a remix of 'I Love You,' how nice!" Sanghee grew sarcastic, thoughts of wondering what happened to their once-close knit group.

"You've always been so greedy," Aya raised to her feet, the crutches tapping on the floor as she walked to Sangee, "You have never been happy. It's not like Y/N purposely goes off of her way to fuck us over. It's KQ and the fact that maybe people just don't want a fucking cun-"

"Dumb fucking bitch!" Sanghee pushed Aya, straddling her and pulling her hair, the others trying to pull the girls off of each other.

The yelling caused the cops to leave Y/N and Jieun alone, Jieun wrapping her arm around Y/N's shoulder.

"You don't have to tell them anything, but you have to say something," Jieun gently pushed Y/N's face to look at her, "you could help stop this boy."

"What's the point? Bloom is over, Sanghee hates me, Hongjoong can't even look at me right now," Y/N rested her head on the table, using her arm as a pillow, Jieun stroking her back, "we trained for so long for some stalker asshole to ruin everything."

The cops came back in the room, Jieun closing her mouth, not getting a chance to respond. Gathering the papers, Officer Hakyeon and Officer Kyuhyun offered Y/N one last olive branch.

"If you'd like, we could set you up in a hotel, away from the other girls. They have already agreed to it. If you don't want to, you'll go back with Miss Haeun and Mr. Hongjoong, but there is no guarntee we can keep an eye on what will happen."

"We'll give you time to think."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you really closing your site, San?"

Hongjoong asked his close friend, hiding the smile that was tugging on the corners of his lips. They went to the mall, Hongjoong offering to lend an eye to San. The news of Bloom's uncomfirmed disbandment had led to anyone who had up their merchandise to take it down, most unwillingly to accept that the group was over.

"I'd rather not be on this guy's list anymore than I already am," San swirled the ice in his paper cup, "it's one thing to go after me, but going after my parents' studio"

Hongjoong zoned out, watching an employee at Hot Topic pull down posters of the girls, leaving Y/N for last.

"As it should be."

"What?" San looked in the same direction as Hongjoong, seeing the way the older boy looked at Y/N, "You've never been into Bloom and now all of a sudden, you're into Y/N?"

"I've always said she was my favorite," Hongjoong shook out of his blank mind, looking at San with an innocent look in his eyes, "where's the bathroom?"

"Uhh," San was sketched out, pointing to the general direction of the bathroom, "this way."

Hongjoong handed San his bag, a weird heaviness coming from the small bag. Normally not the one to snoop, San took the chance to peek in his friend's bag, finding an employee hallway and placing it on the floor.

Unzipping it, San was shocked to find a camera decorated with the all-too-familiar white jasmine flowers.

"Did you find anything interesting?" San turned around to see Hongjoong with a completely different vibe about him, he was walking towards him in a dangerous way, San backing up to hit a locked door, "I asked you a question."

"Hongjoong, you're Milt-"

Hongjoong punched San in the gut, the boy falling to the floor in pain, his attempts to crawl away ruined by Hongjoong kicking his ribs. San tried to fight back, landing a punch on Hongjoong's thighs, but little happened.

"You were always such a pussy, you know that, right?" Hongjoong grabbed San's hair, pulling back and hitting his face once on the wall, San falling to the floor as Hongjoong continued kicking him in the stomach.

"Leave," kick.

"Y/N," kick.

"Alone," kick.

San was almost unconicous on the floor, one last kick to his throat keeping him grounded. Hongjoong's phone went off, reminding him to swipe San's before he left the cement hallway.

"Y/N? Hey, what's up?" Hongjoong's voice went back to being cheery, the tense emotion coming out of the speaker, "Do you want me to meet you at the company, you know, for moral support?"

Hongjoong zipped up his bag, walking to his car, the parking lot lights turning on and casting a demonic shadow on his face.

"Alright, I'll meet you there."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Due to recent events, KQ finds it better if the girls of Bloom part ways. Lee Sanghee has decided to try her luck at a different company while Aya, Chinsun, Y/N and Yunhee have decided to stay with the company and focus on solo endeavors."

Jieun made the annoucement at a meeting in front of KQ's main office, the ocean of reporters throwing questions at the five girls who were all stone-faced, hiding their true emotions from everyone.

Why is Sanghee the only one leaving? Was she kicked out? Are the rumors that she's on drugs true?

Is Y/N still with that Hongjoong guy? Is Y/N pregnant? Are they getting married?

Are Bloom members going to redebut? Is Chinsun going to become the new leader?

What's next for the members? Is Yunhee taking up any acting gigs? What will happen to Aya?

Hongjoong showed up in the midst of the commotion, a mouthmask hiding him from the parasitic papparzzi, waving to Y/N and getting her attention. Y/N softly smiled at Hongjoong, Sanghee noticing this and since she has nothing left to lose, let out all of her anger.

Winding her arm back, she threw her fist into the back of Y/N's head, Y/N turning around to react, but Sanghee already had her hands on her throat. Y/N held Sanghee's wrist, trying to pull them away as the camera flashes begun to blind everyone, Jieun getting some of the security guards to escort Yunhee, Aya and Chinsun into the building, more shouts and yells coming out of the audience. Hongjoong tried to get to the girls, only to be pushed back by the photographers and reporters. The girls were finally pulled apart, Y/N bleeding from her nose and scalp, Sanghee with a busted lip and a chunk of Y/N's extensions in her hair.

"You want to know why Bloom is disbanding? Because this bitch is pathe-"

"Enough!" Jieun came back out of the building, pushing Y/N inside as she tore into Sanghee, "You have done nothing but try to make this entire thing about you. Aya can no longer dance, Y/N is borderline mute, Yunhee is even more tramaztied and Chinsun is only hanging on by a thread and all you could worry about was lines! You're the main vocal, for fuck's sake!"

Sanghee didn't take the verbal lashing, storming from the steps, the camera shutters firing like sparklers during the Fourth of July. The four remaining members were left inside the office building, Y/N and Hongjoong sharing a look before he left.

Following Sanghee, Hongjoong ends up in a dive bar, smoke filling his nasals with an insultingly horrid scent. Putting on sunglasses and sliding next to Sanghee, Hongjoong deepened his voice, getting her attention.

"Who are you?"

"Maybe I could be your friend. I've seen the news, now you're going through a hard time, maybe I'd have something to help you," shaking a small bag of powder in her face, Hongjoong smirked under his mask, Sanghee staring at it.

"How much?"

"Just to be nice, I'll give it to you for free. A little something to clean your soul," a evil glint hidden by his sunglasses at the wording.

"A gentleman? Wow, that's rare," Sanghee took the tiny plastic bag, grabbing a straw from the bar and kissing Hongjoong on the cheek, "thanks, boo."

"Anytime," Hongjoong waited for Sanghee to escape his eyesight before swiping a napkin, wiping the lipgloss off his cheek in disgust, "fucking whore."

Hongjoong let a few minutes roll by, ordering a shot of rum and leaving a tip on the bar. He walked to the bathrooms, seeing a couple leave the men's room, fixing their clothes and hair. Slipping into the women's room, he eviliy grins at the sight that greeted him.

Sanghee on the floor, nose bleeding and her eyes lifeless.

#hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #the fan #halloween series #my writings

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