#its the same shit. i would be sad if my pet died. or whats the point of putting effort into a project for it to die later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foryoumyheroes · 4 years ago

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Otaku

[Bakugou + Todoroki] are in love with the anime character [Name].

A/N: Gender-neutral reader Crackish??

Bakugou Katsuki:

He’s sort of picky with the genre, be it fantasy, horror, shonen, but his favorite character has to be a super cool, super powerful one. No excuses.

You know, the type of anime character that’s probably introduced through a silhouette of them posing dramatically with their notorious group whose image is teased throughout the first few episodes/seasons.

He goes pretty hard for All Might, and he’s definitely the same for your character.

Reads the manga (but he buys it super secretly, like in a hoodie at night and the cashier probably thinks that they’re being robbed until he brings the entire [Series] collection to the register). Watches the anime the moment it’s broadcasted, reads metas and watches youtube videos that talk about conspiracies/analyses of your character.

NO ONE CAN KNOW THOUGH.

He’s taking his anime phase to the grave.

For some reason gets super aggressive when you’re being flirty or being shipped with another character?? He hates all the scenes that tease any potential romance between you and other characters. asdfgj He’s like, “No one is good enough for [Name]!!! Except for me.”

He even tries to think up ways he can legitimately square up with them LMAO. Like he wonders how he could defeat your potential S/Os in a fight but y’all are like ,,, anime characters SO WHY DOES IT EVEN MATTER LOL

“Three-sword style?? Tch, I’d fucking blow that bastard to bits.”

“Who’s this Gaara of the Sand looking ass and why is the author getting so bold.”

He even tries to think of how well your abilities match up with his own Quirk, this dork.

THE LENGTHS HE WOULD GO FOR YOU.

If you were a real life person and your dislikes are lets say spicy food or loud, overbearing people, Bakugou would be like, “Tch I’m right, they’re wrong. Shut the fuck up!!!” But if his ultimate wifu/husbando has those dislikes he would be like, “Omg...😳😳 opposites attract...👉👈”

He honestly tries to be a low-key fan (as in, not be a fan at all to outsiders), but if one day during class Kaminari ends up saying that in [Series], you’re the weakest character in your group/squad, Bakugou would get super angry.

“Hey, Dunceface!! It’s so fucking obvious that you’re an anime-only fake fan, so don’t talk as if you know shit!”

Bakugou is those “um actually” ;; fans

Bakugou is a manga reader, so by the time your introduction scene or Ultimate Attack scene is being aired he becomes super OOC. He’s hyped for it for days, incredibly nervous at how the animators handle the scene.

By the time he watches it??

THE ANIMATION!! THE VOICE ACTING!! YOUR COOLNESS!!! PLS ORA ORA HIM IN THE CHEST!! HE’S BEGGING YOU! IF YOU’RE GOING TO UNISON RAID WITH ANYONE PLS LET IT BE HIM!!

He’s legitimately sweating buckets by the time the episode is over. A whole-ass fire hazard.

Probably knows how to play your character theme on the drums.

Omg but if your character dies/is hinted toward dying/or the most recent chapters ends with a cliffhanger where you’re fatally injured he will become legitimately depressed.

Like holes himself in his dorm room for a whole day without contacting anyone and with the blinds drawn type of depressed.

When he comes to class the next day with eye-bags and is slouching and his classmates think that something horrible has happened, it’s probably only Izuku who knows what’s going on.

He’ll say, “You’re upset about the most recent chapter of [Series], right? I know it must be hard for you right now.” He’ll give Bakugou an officially licensed rubber strap of your character and Bakugou will just ;; cradle it in his hands softly.

In complete seriousness, your character is probably someone who is strong physically, but publicly rallies for things like, “Failure is fine.” Your character arc would probably explore what it’s like being not good enough or feeling constantly disappointed, so he feels comfort in your character.

Todoroki Shoto:

In comparison to Bakugou, he’s probably a more low-key fan unintentionally, but goes just as hard.

Buys all of the merch, limited-edition or not, has your picture set as his phone lockscreen and homescreen, has a little acrylic charm of you on his phone, follows several fanartists that draw your character on social media. He buys enough merch that his room looks like a glorified shrine.

It’s canon that he reads manga, but I headcanon that he’s even less picky with his genres and willingly reads things like slice-of-life or shojo all the way to shonen or adult fantasy, so your anime could come from any possible story.

Your character is probably someone who is sweet and kind but has a traumatic character backstory.

He probably ends up thinking stuff like, “If [Name] was with me, I would never let them get treated like that.” asdhj he’s a dork too.

Unironically dramatically quotes you during battle and thinks that it’s still badass because he’s a teenage boy in his anime phase.

Doesn’t get into debates with people who don’t like your character. He’s like, “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion :)) even though they’re wrong. >:(.”

If you’re from a sports/competition anime he’ll try to learn all of the rules, and even try it out for himself (if it’s not fighting) but he finds out that he’s... not very good at it. That doesn’t make him any less amazed though!

If your character is from a different culture with different customs and traditions, he’ll even learn more about them outside of your anime!

Forces his siblings to watch the anime with him. They don’t necessarily have to, but the Todoroki household has one big TV and he hogs it all the time watching your anime over and over.

Natsuo is begging him to watch something else and Shoto will just pout angrily from the other side of the couch.( ￣＾￣)

It’s so jarring because he doesn't look or appear like a hardcore anime fan, but sometimes he’ll just butt into conversations randomly and talk about you.

Like you know those tumblr Naruto posts that talk about it as if it’s some sort of Renaissance literature. That’s Todoroki.

[”Man, they’re so hot--!”

“You want to see someone hot?” Todoroki asks with a perfectly straight face, and he’ll just... turn his phone around and show them a picture of an anime character.]

When his dad tries to set him up with someone else: “You think they’re my type? Do they watch [Series]? Do they know what true friendship is?? Do they understand pining and love the way [Name] does?”

Endeavor: who the FUCK is [Name].

Gets into fanfiction because of your character and series. He’ll just be reading on his phone during break times at school and everyone thinks that he’s being so well-read but he’s just reading pure smut with a straight face.

Doesn’t mind when you’re shipped with other characters necessarily but he is super picky. If your character is hinted toward a potential romance with another character that’s pretty crass and doesn’t necessarily treat you well but you’re sticking together through the power of friendship, he won’t ship it.

He’s just like “[Name] would be so much happier with someone else like me.” :////

And if your character goes through something traumatic or terrible during the series he’ll be so sad, like soooo sad. :((( Deku would probably be comforting him on the couch in the common room and everyone is concerned because he looks like he’s mourning a lost pet, but it turns out to be over some anime character pshhhsdfh.

Deku would just be patting his shoulder trying to console him and Todoroki’s just sitting there with a big frown on his face going, [“But they’ve been through so much throughout the anime already...”

“I know, Todoroki-kun, I know...”

“The author can’t do that to them... It’s just not fair.”

“I get it,” Midoriya says mournfully.]

Plot twist: They like the same anime character

They’ll probably find out when they have to retake the license exam together.

Todoroki will just take his phone out during off times and Bakugou’s eyes looks over because it’s drawn by the noise but then his head just snaps to the side when he realizes its a little charm of you, like, he’s going to get whiplash from that.

“What the -- is that [Surname] [Name]?!”

Like they have never really hung out together before this, so when they both first realize that their favorite character of all time is [Name] they’re left ,, just standing there ,,, pointing at each other like the spiderman meme.

At first they’re both inwardly excited because FINALLY someone cultured and with taste. They spend the entire time talking about your stats, your attacks, your post-timeskip character design, and your personality, and then they delve a little bit deeper and then they realize ,,, oh.

Bakugou says that you don’t belong with the dumb protagonist, you should be shipped with someone strong, confident and loud, but Todoroki is like noooooo they deserve to be with someone that treats them gently.

They connect the dots.

[“Bakugou, you aren’t compatible with [Name]. It says so in their trivia page.”

“Says you! They won’t want some bland-ass pretty boy! They would want a real man!”]

They’re such fanboys ;;; they do realize that you aren’t real, right asdfghj?

One day Kaminari and Sero separately invite them to an anime convention, but they both say no and that they have plans or “something better to do” that day.

Then Bakugou and Todoroki both turn up to the convention at the same place because they both reach for the last limited edition [Name] figure and they just stare at each other wide-eyed (ʘoʘ╬) like that.

They start verbally fighting each other over the last figure and then physically fighting each other andddd then they get kicked out of the convention.

Izuku ends up swooping in and getting the last box.

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yourmypenguin · 3 years ago

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AKDJDHSHSJDBDGDJ I LOVE VIRGILS VIET OUTFIT ITS SO PRETTY!!!!!! Also your tags for that post got me thinking about a Vietnamese Cinderella story with prinxiety and Virgil gets to wear the pretty outfit you made him and I’m so excited to see romans outfit aaaaaaaaaaaaa

-blue

Thank you so much Blue!!! And because I'm excited, little story telling now. I'm just gonna tell you our own version of Cinderella because it's super fun and it haunts me ever since i heard it

(cw: long ass text, death, murder, violence mentions, animal death)

Basically Tấm is the Cinderella character, she's a poor orphan who lives with her stepmom and her stepsister Cám, and they abuse her by forcing labors on her. One day Stepmother tells the two girls to go fish at the ponds, whoever gets more fish will be prized with a red yếm (uh, an old kind of bralette, looks pretty). Tấm of course works her ass off but then Cám just tricks her so that she can steal all of her fishes, runs home and leaves Tấm to cry at the ponds. A Budha appears and instructs her to take the only single little gobie fish left inside her basket and keeps it as a pet fish in her home's well. He gives her a magical fish calling spell, she just gotta say it, the gobie would rise above the water, and eats the rice she feeds it. She has a cute little pet fishy, but Cám and Stepmother just can't stand Tấm being happy and kill the gobie for food. Tấm is sad again, so Budha appears and instructs her to bury the fish's bones into 4 clay pots, and bury them under her bed.

It's festival arc! Meaning Stepmother is an asshole and force Tấm to sort out the lentils stuff, so that she and her daughter can go to the festival. Budha is having none of that shit so he just appears and let his magical birds do that for Tấm, and now Tấm you can go dig up the pots under your bed, there you shall find, ooooh! Beautiful clothes to wear to the festival, and a pair of pretty shoes, and a horse too!!! Tấm reigns the horse and gets to the festival, but she drops her shoe into a pond on the way. The KING!!! Coincidentally passes by that same area later on and picks up the shoe and declare that whoever fits it would gets to be his wife. And the classic story goes as you might expect it, Tấm gets back her shoe, becomes the Queen, and Stepmother and Cám is pissed.

But holy shit it does not ends there. No. Tấm is too much of a good girl and returns happily to her abusive home to attend her father's death day anniversary, and climbs an areca palm to get the fruits for the altar. She does not doubt her stepmom at all when she sees her at the foot of the tree, chopping the shit out of it, and lets Tấm (and the tree) fall to her death (areca palms are really tall). Stepmom takes that opportunity to bring her daughter into the palace and just like, hey, your wife is dead, how bout her sister for a replacement? The king just fucking goes along with it. Cám lives her life in luxury, unknowing that her stepsister reincarnates as an oriole bird and meets with the king again. The king loves his birdie a lot and it sings to him, he asks it if its his wife then it should cuddle up into his sleeve, which it does. Cám is pissed, she kills the bird and bury its feathers in the palace's garden (these people have no problems killing animals lmao)

There in the place of the feathers grows two magnificent trees, and the king likes it so much he brings his cot there to lay. Fucking Cám can't get over her jealousy and cuts down the trees and makes a cloth weaver out of them. But the thing fucking curses at her when she tries to use it like the weaver just tells her that "don't you fucking rip my husband's clothes or I'll gouge your eyes out". Cám and stepmom burn the thing to the ground for good. Still, the spirit is resilient as hell as it follows the ashes of the burned weaver to a faraway land, and a tree grows where the ashes blew. The tree bears beautiful golden fruits (Diospyros decandra if you wanna know the specifics)

An old lady who sells beverages, passes by the tree, amazed by the golden fruits. One drops into her basket and she brings it home, let it lay around and heads off to the market, only to return home, and find... a girl?? A pretty young lady who's so polite and kind and offers to do her chores? Oh she'll take her as her daughter now. They live happily in their little house. One day, mr King appears again, passes by the old lady's shop and orders something. Noticing the placement of his food is familiar, the king asks old lady to let him meet the preparer of his meal. Old lady brings him to meet her daughter, who is, holy shit Tấm, his loving late wife holy shit you're still alive??? He takes her back to the palace after she says goodbye to her adopted mom. Cám and Stepmom is so fucking blown out of their brains.

You think it ends there? Oh no, Tấm is back and more powerful. She meets up with Cám, three times her murderer, and just tells her: Hey, you wanna know my secret beauty tips? Just go sit in a ditch and tell the servant to pour boiling water down onto you. Now I'm just gonna assume that Cám is spoiled into stupidity and does not know that when hot boiling water pours onto you, you fucking burn to death, and she does exactly that, no joke. And Tấm fucking takes her dead stepsister's body and makes her into fish sauce, and cooks it into a meal for Stepmom. Stepmom is at first "Hey, this meal is good? What's the secret ingredient?" and looks down into the fish sauce pot, and there she sees her own daughter's skull. Stepmother dies of a heart attack. End of story.

#rambling #i'm so sorry if this is the cinderella story you want prinxiety to be made into i'd advise against it lmaOOO

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therealvalkyrie · 4 years ago

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Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 5

very pretty, very beautiful

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, feelings, nightmare, fluff, mentions of a deadly car accident

AN: WHOAH OKAY. So I’ve been thinking about the last half of this chapter every second of every minute for the last two days. It has haunted my dreams, y’all. Thanks to that, you get this before the weekend! Yay! Special thanks to @ghostlightprincess, @anlian-aishang, @cant-spell-slay-without-lay, and @horseanon--simpforall for helping me edit and giving me many encouragements and compliments which, quite frankly, made my head the size of Jupiter. I love you all dearly. As always, let me know what you think in my comments/DMs/askbox!! Don’t be a stranger!! And be kind to yourself and others<3 ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 4 here)

“I think you’re very pretty.”

I think you’re very pretty?

Fuck. Shit.

“I-I-I mean,” Levi feels his throat tighten and cheeks set ablaze, “You’re very, uh, very beautiful.” He says it because it’s true, and the truth is what Levi relies on when his brain is short-circuiting. You’re more than pretty, more than something as trivial as very pretty, you’re gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes his palms sweat. Recently, you’ve been everywhere: in his bed, in his arms, in the periphery of his life even outside of the apartment. It’s overwhelming, this is overwhelming, how his hands are on you and how you’re looking up at him with insecure, anticipatory eyes. They’re glassy and red-rimmed, pupils blown to saucers.

Oh. That’s right, she’s high.

Levi lets his hand drop from the top of your head. He tries to move his other hand away from your cheek, but you grasp his wrist to keep it there. He can feel his own pulse fluttering under your fingertips.

“Very beautiful?” It’s soft, hopeful.

He forces himself not to retract the statement (because it’s true) out of self-preservation.

“Very beautiful, kid.” He can say it without stuttering this time. It’s important that you believe him, and it’s equally important that this is as far as it goes.

You close your eyes against the pet name and turn your face into his palm for a split second, press a swift kiss to it and then drop your hand to your lap. His heart stutters. He drops his hand, too.

“Thank you,” the words fall past your lips, careful and distant, as he takes a step back.

He needs some space. To get his head on straight, to scream into a pillow, to talk some sense into himself. Can’t risk this, not with you, not with you.

“Your, um, your pajamas,” he points to the end of the bed where they’re sitting in a neat pile, then turns tail and strides out of your room, shutting the door behind him.

In his room, his jelly legs finally give out and he flops onto his bed.

Fucking hell.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

What kind of question is that? Do you not think you’re pretty? Do you care if he, specifically, thinks you’re pretty, or was it intended more generally? Very pretty, very beautiful. What does that even mean?

Levi may not be eloquent in the least, may not know how to confess that you make his every breath burn in his chest, but he does know how to paint. He stands up, wiping sweaty palms on his flannel pants and examining the painting on his easel. His mom stares back, her eyes sparkling, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in ebony waves. It had taken him the last few days to get the curls just right, and when he added the last highlights of shine, it’d finally felt complete.

“Sorry, mama,” he murmurs as he lifts her to set her against the wall under the window.

A new canvas procured from his closet finds its place on the easel. He sifts through his supply drawers for a moment, setting paints and brushes and charcoal neatly on his desk.

He takes a deep breath, situates himself in his wheelie chair, and leans forward to start sketching.

—

It’s 5 AM when you start screaming in a long, shuddering cry, causing Levi to jolt up in his seat, paintbrush poised over your left temple. It breaks off into sobs that make his gut twist and hands clench. A long moment, then you’re letting out another keening wail and Levi is out of his seat. Paint splatters from the brush where he drops it on his desk and his chair rolls back as he runs, ripping doors open and narrowly avoiding furniture in the dark.

You’re sprawled out, thrashing on the bed, sheets tangled with your legs. Levi sits on the edge of your bed, brows pinched in worry, and reaches for your shoulders. This is okay — he can touch you when you ask for his help. When you whimper and reach for him in your sleep, he can pull you close and smooth a hand across the planes of your back. It’s when you’re looking at him, all trusting and expectant for something, that he’s unsure.

He says your name, low and urgent, once, twice, before your eyes open mid-sob. They’re wide and terrified, your jaw tight, muscles clenched. “It’s me, kid, it’s just me,” he intones, “It was just a dream, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

Your heaving chest slows for a second, hitches somewhere in your sternum, and then you’re launching yourself forward and into him. He catches you there, steady against his chest.

“Breathe.” He sets an example with his own deep breaths.

It’s a long minute before he feels you relax at all, before he feels you sigh against his neck. Your arms are tight around his middle and you must be stronger than you look because after a while it starts to pinch. He doesn’t mind, though, just traces patterns on your back and stares at the pale wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He feels you shake your head.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitate before you whisper, “Only if you stay.”

Levi thinks about the wet paintbrush currently drying to his desk. He thinks about the mess of clothes on your floor. He thinks of the half-finished painting of you in his room. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You pull back, and he gets a look at your face in the near-dark. Your eyes are still acutely haunted, but they’ve regained awareness. He lets you take a moment to wipe at your cheeks as he reaches to gently disentangle the sheets and spread them more carefully over your legs.

He looks up at you again to catch your sad eyes with his. Your head is tilted quizzically, knowingly, sympathetically all at once as though he were the one who just woke up screaming. It makes him itch.

“What’s that look for?” he grumbles, toeing his slippers off and tucking them under your bed.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Come here, please.”

He blinks at you for a second. That’s my line. But he goes, crawling into bed with you and slipping under the covers. He lets you tug his arm gently so that he’s on your chest. He gets comfortable there, one arm thrown over your waist and head rested over your heart. Your own arms find a home cautiously around him. You exhale with the grounding pressure of his body on yours and let your mind sink into calm release.

—

The knock on your door breaks your attention from your laptop. You sigh, finish typing your sentence, and push your blue light glasses up your nose before standing up to answer it.

You’re not expecting anyone, but maybe Levi is. He’s been holed up in his room all morning, Chopin drifting lazily under his door, probably studying. Like you’ve been trying to. The second series of knocks on your door makes you jog the last few steps to pull it open.

“Hi—” the greeting dies in your throat when you see who’s standing there.

“Hi,” Annie says. She’s standing, nonchalant as ever, in her winter parka and leggings, holding two to-go cups and a pastry bag.

“What?” It’s a breathless question, genuinely confused. It doesn’t harbor the animosity you would expect — you’re not sure you can feel anything other than queasy right now.

“I got your voicemail.”

You blink in confusion. She rolls her eyes and thrusts the to-go cups at you with a brief “hold these” before reaching into her pocket for her phone. You just stare at her while she taps and scrolls for a minute. She looks the same as before you stopped speaking: blonde hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head and hoodie peeking out of the collar of her jacket. Maybe a little more tired, though Annie always seemed to be tired.

She holds up her phone for you to hear as a voicemail starts playing and, to your further shock, your own tinny voice spills out. It sounds like you’re crying, and slightly muffled.

“Annie, hi, um, I know it’s late but I couldn’t think of anyone else to call, I just,” sniffle, “I know we’re not talking and I’m still mad at you, like REALLY MAD, okay? But I couldn’t think of who else to call and long story short I think I’m in love with Levi and he might’ve just rejected me but I just couldn’t tell—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut in across your own voice, stepping into the hall with her and toeing the door almost shut behind you. She stops the voicemail. “But why are you here?” You know why she’s here — Annie never backs down from anything, and you had started the conversation, even if you’d been drunk and high and half asleep and you don’t really remember doing it.

“You called, here I am. That’s what best friends do.” Her tone is even.

“Not best friends who fuck their best friends’ boyfriends,” you snap, anger finally bursting from your stomach and into your throat.

She closes her eyes impatiently, sighs, then looks at you again not quite pleadingly.

“Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m here now and there’s more to the story that you aren’t aware of.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you,” she offers, then holds up the pastry bag. “I brought coffee and donuts. They’re jelly.”

Jelly donuts are your favorite.

You look down at the cups in your hand. You look back at her steady blue gaze. More to the story.

“Fine.” You turn and kick the door open a little too harshly. “Just let me get dressed.”

She follows you in, even though you don’t extend an invitation, and closes the door softly. You put the cups down on the coffee table and watch her sit in her usual spot on the couch to wait for you out of the corner of your eye. You scowl but say nothing.

It only takes you a minute to shuck off to pajamas and pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. You don’t bother with a bra.

You knock lightly on Levi’s door and call through, “I’m going for a walk, so make sure to lock up if you leave. I have my keys.” You jingle them as evidence and he grunts in acknowledgment. “Let’s go,” you turn and address Annie, who stands.

The walk down your street to the river is short and habitual, your feet carrying you while your mind races. You can feel the anger and hurt, visceral and stabbing, in your chest. But there’s also something tender there, too, something that acknowledges how you missed your best friend. Something that screams at you to tackle her to the ground and feel her stoic comfort. Instead, you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of Eren’s jacket and kick a pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk.

The pair of you reach the walking bridge over the river and pause at the railing. The sky is overcast, threatening a snowstorm. A car beeps downtown, reaching you distantly. Annie hands you a coffee and a donut. You lean against the railing and avoid her gaze.

“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.” You bite into the donut.

She sighs through her nose. “I know what you saw. We… we did kiss, but we didn’t do anything else. We never had sex.”

“Hmm.” A sip of coffee.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I’m guessing you didn’t exactly listen to Reiner when you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t have time for his bullshit excuses.”

She breaks off a bit of her donut and stares at it contemplatively for a moment, “I know you don’t owe either of us anything, and this isn’t meant as an excuse, but will you listen to why, at least?”

You press your lips together, sneak a look into her devastatingly blue eyes, and nod. What harm can it do? And you have to admit there’s a large part of you that’s been wondering at the why, even if you’ve refused to hear it.

“Okay. Tell me why.”

She takes a deep breath and leans her elbows on the railing before starting to speak, low and pensive.

“I’ve known Reiner and Bertholdt a long time, since we were kids. We’ve always been this… this odd group. You wouldn’t think we were close if you didn’t know us. But it wasn’t always just us.” She pauses, looking distant. “Do you know Porco Galliard?”

Galliard… “He’s a sophomore on the lacrosse team, right?”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to his brother?”

“He has a brother?”

“Had. Marcel. He was a year older than us but somehow ended up in our little group. And a couple of years ago, senior year of high school, we were all in a car accident. He was home on winter break and we’d all had a little too much to drink, and we convinced him to take us to Denny’s for midnight milkshakes. And, well, there was a winter storm coming in and it’d been freezing rain that week, and we crashed. Marcel died. It was… I hadn’t…” She pauses, tilting her head back to the sky, blinking away tears. “It was horrible.”

Your eyes have gone wide, cast downriver. You don’t know what you’d expected when you walked down here, but it certainly wasn’t this. It wasn’t Annie, only rivaled in her stoicism by Levi, choking back tears and wiping snot from her nose.

“Hey,” you start, voice gentler than it’s been all day. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, just... give me a second,” she interjects, wringing out a hand. She takes a deep, purposeful breath.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking back out across the water.

“It, uh, it hit us all really hard, brought us really close together. That’s why we all ended up at school here, actually. It kinda made us realize that, like, time is limited, you know? We don’t have forever. And Bertl, he…” she smiles, watery and reminiscent. “When he asked me out, it felt like a long time coming. It was just about perfect. He felt safe and like home, and… well, you know how in love we were. But I could see that it alienated Rei, at least a bit. He tried not to show it, but I could tell he felt like a third wheel. He was already drifting away from us, still struggling with all this guilt.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That’s a familiar feeling. Guilt. And yet, you’d never noticed it in Reiner, apparently never got close enough to shine a flashlight into his darkest shadows. He’d always seemed so… sunshiney. You clearly hadn’t given him enough credit to dislodge the aura of jock frat boy he projects so brightly.

Soft dough squishes under your fingertips where you’ve resorted to playing with your food instead of eating it as Annie continues.

“And then he met you and fell in love so fast. I was so relieved, I mean, you and I were roommates and it was just perfect, right?” You look at her and see a flicker of hopefulness still there. “I thought maybe you two getting together would bring him back to us, that maybe we’d be alright after all. And at first, it did. But then you moved off campus for sophomore year and he started drifting away again, though he was at least anchored to you, this time. It scared me, it really did.”

She kicks the bottom of the railing lazily, as if to expend the sadness there rather than in her words. The first fat flakes of snow drift down around you. One dances away on your exhale.

“He’s so withdrawn, sometimes, in his own head, and I never know how to reach him there. I didn’t know if he had told you about Marcel, or anything, so I couldn’t go through you. I don’t… I didn’t know what to do, so I just... let it fester. That night, when we kissed, I hadn’t seen him physically for a month. It hurt.”

She looks at you imploringly, like the weight of everything she’s saying lies on deep hurt. You can relate to feeling as though there’s nothing but hurt and guilt and drifting.

“So I figured out where he was from his Snapchat story, abandoned my group project, and went over there to see him. I didn’t know what I’d say or do when I got there, just that I had to get him back, somehow. He was already plastered, you know how he gets, and he wasn’t listening to me, so I just… kissed him. I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t even know you saw until he called me the next day after you broke up with him to chew me out.

“So, long story short,” her voice breaks on a mournful, almost hysterical laugh, “I fucked up the three most important relationships to me in one night because I couldn’t use my words.” She wipes at wet cheeks, not looking at you. “So, um. Yeah, that’s the why, I guess. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or him, but I just… I needed you to know. It wasn’t like, this elaborate affair.”

You aren’t sure how to right your brain from the way it’s tilted off kilter. It’s so much, so different from what you’d built up in your head. There’s no conspiracy, no grand intention to break you.

Even with all this new information, what stupidly slips out first is, “Did he kiss you back?” You blanch, turn to her with wide eyes, “Sorry, that’s not exactly im—”

“No, it’s fine,” she meets your eyes. “He did kiss me back.”

“Oh. Okay, um…” you trail off, bite your lip. You don’t know what exactly to say. Your skin is tight with the urge to forgive her immediately and wholly, but logic holds you back. Now that you know the truth, you need time to heal and get some perspective. You straighten up from where you’d been slouching against the railing. “Okay. You’ve been honest, so I will be, too.”

She stands up fully as well, facing you with one hand on the railing.

“I don’t know how I feel right now,” you start. “I think I need some time and perspective. But, I… I can see now where I went wrong, too. I assumed the worst, didn’t let any communication happen.” You swallow down the lump in your throat threatening to choke your voice. “And, I wasn’t there for Rei like I should have been. I had no idea — no idea! — what he was going through.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell you—”

“And why is that?” Your voice breaks, squeaks with the question. “Did he feel like he couldn’t confide in me? Did I make it too much about me and my trauma? I wasn’t exactly shy about telling him my shit.” You take a long draw of coffee. “Anyway. I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

She nods. “He’d like that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching the sparse snow flurry around you. Annie finally starts eating her donut.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess into the storm. “A lot.”

“I missed you, too.”

Your chest aches with both the cold air and the conflicting feelings of relief and regret.

“Why, uh… why didn’t you tell me all that stuff about Marcel?”

She leans on the railing again, takes a sip of coffee before answering. “I was still working through it. Still am, rather. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or that it was relevant.”

You hum, nodding. “I get that.”

There’s another silence, but it feels lighter, less charged. There are still questions bouncing around your mind, but you decide it’s better to process through them on your own rather than blurting out something stupid. Perspective.

“So,” she shoots you a look under blonde eyelashes, “what’s this about you being in love with Levi?”

“Aw, shit,” you laugh, leaning your elbows back on the railing and giving her an imploring look. “It really snuck up on me.”

“Is that so? Can’t say I’m shocked.” Her tone is dry, a little amused around the last bite of jelly donut. She wipes her fingers on her leggings and faces you. “And you think he rejected you.”

“Well, I…” you cringe, thinking back to last night. “He called me very beautiful.”

“Doesn’t sound like a rejection.”

“It was the way he said it! Like it physically hurt him to admit, and then he just ran out of the room,” you whine, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“I think that’s just his emotional constipation.”

You look at her sharply, mouth agape, to catch her eyes dancing and the corner of her lip curling upward slightly. “Annie!”

“What? I’m right.” She finishes off her coffee, tilting back the cup to catch the last dregs of it. “He likes you, or he’s an idiot if he doesn’t.”

You narrow your eyes in doubt, mirroring her half-smile. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

“Yes,” she promises, crumpling up the pastry bag in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket. “We will.”

—

(read part 6 here)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #female!reader #levi ackerman #annie leonhart #swearing #intoxication #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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pettyprocrastination · 3 years ago

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I understand what your post was trying to say (I think), but I feel like if people did want to fuck Candyman and made thirsty posts about him, they would probably get called racist for sexualizing a black character who died by lynch mob after having sex with a white woman. There are some unfortunate implications there

All I'm saying is that that the two narratives of "white people are so prejudiced they'll find criminals and serial killers attractive before ever looking at a black person" and "black characters, especially black men, experience heavy fetishization from white fans" not only coexist but intertwine with one another.

people seem to think my post means 'yeah candyman should be sexualized by fans" which it WASN'T. it was merely pointing out that white people will have such a heavy internal prejudice that they'll drool over white serial killers, child predators, sexual offenders and white supremacists (both fictional and non-fictional) while saying they don't like black characters because they're too "mean" or "idk they just make me uncomfortable :/" whose morality is nowhere near as corrupt as white characters or fall onto the same scale as them, the only difference is that one is black and the other is white.

I've seen this with not only candyman and horror fangroups but also just about any other fanbase for a popular show or film.

another example is Killmonger vs literally any white marvel villian ever. Loki, a character who is responsible for the death's of thousands and also was a Nazi parallel in the first film is treated vastly different by fans compared to Killmonger. People fucking adore him and rationalize and validate his reason for being the way he is because "waahwaah he had a sad childhood :( it isnt his fault :(" (and if you try to say that 'he was brainwashed' bs im ignoring it cause its lazy writing to just retcon a characters past actions) Killmonger got SO MUCH shit from white fans when Black Panther came out for being "too aggressive" when the same fans are the ones who will pet and coddle Loki like he's a dove with a broken wing or some misunderstood little angel.

( I'm not gonna get into how marvel often has radicalized leftist characters as their villains so that they can continue to preach that middle ground liberal ideaology is the only good political beleif because that's another post for another day)

Another example: fucking Kylo Ren vs Finn in the starwars fandom.

Kylo Ren, who is once again, a nazi paralell is loved and adored by fans who give him the same treatment of being misunderstood, blaming his actions on his childhood and claiming it isn't his vault because "he's a villian, not a victim" as if he wasn't responsible for the torture and death of millions and a dictator. They do this while claiming Finn as an aggressor and sometimes abusive character towards Rey when there's no characterization of such in the movie, they just associate aggression with his character because he's a black man.

I'm not saying that people need to start making weird ass posts about candyman and ignoring the complexities of his story and its connection to black trauma. I'm saying that white people will romanticize and relate to the most irredeemable white characters while also clutching their purse when presented with any black character, no matter the moral code of such character, for the simple fact and nature of them being black because of their prejudices against black people.

#ask #asks #candyman #putting this in the tag so people see my more indepth explanation #yeah that post was less about candyman and more about the perception of black characters by white fans #i was just using candyman as an example #and given that a white woman reblogged the post and admitted to being a racist on it..my point still stands #slasher fandom #anyways time to get ready for my exam lmao

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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Oh okay well Danny tells Ryan that they’re “going to talk in the morning” at the end of the Was it good? peice and I would like to see that. Maybe Danny telling Ryan some of the things that happened to Nate and making him super uncomfortable? Idk I like Danny protecting Nate it’s interesting

CW: Referenced past torture and pet whump, referenced alcohol use, brief reference to dissoci@tion

Follows on Was It Good?, takes place the next morning

Ryan wakes up with maybe the third serious hangover he's ever had to find a glass of water and a couple Tylenol on the side table next to the bed.

His hip hurts, a strange tight ache over his old tattoo, and he feels like his mouth is full of cotton and his head has been used as a bowling ball. Fuck. He never gets hangovers - it's the family blood, Dad says, with a hint of his brogue and a slight smile. Just how the Michaelsons are.

Their liquor doesn't touch us the same, Patrick had said when Ryan asked, tipping a glass to him, eyebrow raised. That's why I import the liquor my own people once made.

It had made perfect sense at the time. Now, though... what people? The Michaelsons have all left Ireland. They're all here now.

In any case, it'd been his dad's shit he'd been drinking last night, and too much of it. The world's faint queasy spin tells him that, even if last night is still a mess of nonsense impressions slowly coalescing back together.

He takes the pills and drinks the water after, ignores the uneasy twist of his stomach, and pulls on a t-shirt, soft as second skin, and wanders out in that and his boxers.

Danny is up before dawn, every day, and today is no exception. His brother is sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, staring out the window over the kitchen sink at the fading depth of night, finally giving way to pinkish sunrise.

When Ryan enters, those wide blue eyes move immediately to him. They are not soft, or sad, or lost - they are precisely focused, and the skin under the red of his scars is pale, nearly colorless under a smattering of freckles. Both of them pretend Danny's whole body doesn't still twitch with a need to slip to his knees on the floor as soon as someone enters. "You took, um, the pills?"

His voice is soft. And still Ryan feels unsettled, something between uncertainty and guilt. "I did, yeah." He moves to pour himself a cup of coffee, the peppermint mocha creamer he'd bought changing dark brown to silky tan. Not that you need much, with Danny's coffee.

Ryan could half believe in magic, really, just from seeing how Danny didn't seem to do anything different but his coffee is still always the best.

Danny's eyes are still on his back. He can feel the weight of them, settled there. His brother, who flinches and murmurs to himself and looks at anything but whoever is talking to him... staring. Directly.

He turns slowly around, and as he does the memory of his brother's voice slips in from the night before. Strong, and even. Angry. I want to talk about this in the morning. A Danny he'd thought had died up in Canada, resurrected, reborn to defend...

Ryan's stomach drops as the whole night, fuzzy but mostly there, slots into place. "Oh, fuck," He whispers.

Fingers around Nate Vandrum's neck, closing tightly, Nate's green eyes wide and lost in terror, calling him... what?

Pl-please, Ashley, please-

Danny snorts, glancing away from him and then back again. His hands are closed around his coffee mug so hard his knuckles are white under the scars there, too. "Not too, um, blackout drunk, then," Danny says. There's a wry sarcasm there, something so familiar and so lost to Ryan that it hurts to hear now.

This is how his brother sounds, a little irritated, cynical. Not weak and soft and pliable, bending to suit whatever he thinks he has to be to stay safe. This is the brother Ryan has lost, not quite resurrected maybe, but maybe opening his eyes beside the open grave.

He's somewhere between, Ryan thinks, between the angry, dancing boy who disappeared and the broken, frightened man Ryan brought back home. He's holding himself together like this, so carefully, fighting so hard not to slip away.

Ryan sits slowly down at the other end of the table and tells himself to have the courage to meet his brother's eyes.

He manages - barely.

"No, I... I remember."

"Good." Danny slowly lifts the mug to his lips, sips, sets it down again. Like he's acting out a routine of normal, each move robotic and tightly controlled. "You can't... be cruel to him, Ryan. Like that."

"No, I know. I lost my temper a little, that's all. It's... it's not that big a deal, Dan." Ryan rubs at the back of his neck and tries on a shamefaced smile. It falters when Danny's expression hardens, like lava solidifying to rock, harmless on the surface but still hot enough to burn.

"You could have hurt him, Ryan," Danny says softly. His voice is so low, and so strong - both at once. "You, um. You did hurt him."

Ryan nods, again. He feels like a kid sitting in front of his mother after getting caught skipping curfew. He feels like Danny skipping curfew, the disappointed annoyance from their parents. Ignoring that it had almost always been Ryan's idea to sneak out.

"I... I get that. I didn't-" Ryan takes a breath and groans, leaning on his elbows, rubbing hands over his face. "Fuck. I hear all the shit that bastard did to you, and I think, Vandrum was right fucking there, Danny! Right there! And he... did nothing."

Danny sets the mug down and it clatters with the trembling of his fingers, nearly splashing out entirely. Ryan looks up and catches the sight of a bead of red on Danny's lower lip, chapped skin torn. Redder than his scars, more immediate.

"He didn't do, um, nothing," Danny whispers, barely audible. His strength is fading, pulling back inside him. Ryan's brother will just... fuck off somewhere and the stupid goddamn puppy will be there instead.

Dr. Rosa has a whole thing about this, about trauma and Danny protecting himself, something about identity and like a lot of really uncomfortable questions about their childhood Ryan has no idea how to answer...

"What did he do, then? Huh?" Ryan finds his finger jabbing in the air, watches as if from outside himself as Danny flinches back. "Tell me. What did he fucking do?"

"He, um." Danny shifts, drops his hands into his lap. His hair, shaggy and unkempt, is a riot of red waves and curls around his face. "Watched. Or... helped. He-"

"Danny, please. I'm angry enough, don't make me even more pissed at this guy-"

"He, he didn't want to, Ryan." Danny looks at him again, and Ryan watches tears glitter in his blue eyes, one run out and get caught in the crevices dug in by scars, follow its map over cheekbone and down to jaw. "He hated it. But he-... but I-..." Danny breathes, that awful fucking thing he does now to calm himself.

Breathe on, hold for a few counts, breathe out. Again and again. Ryan knows what he’s doing, inside his head, and it makes him sick.

My name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner, and then those stupid rules - and there’s like fifty of them - over and over again until his breathing calms, until his hands settle.

Until he’s good.

The bastard, the fucking demon piece of shit that laughs at Ryan on the stand... Abraham Denner taught Danny to do that. And now, free of him, the Denner bastard about to waste away in prison for life... He still does it.

He still needs it.

Ryan's eyes drop to the scars around Danny's neck, a collar he can't take off, and he swallows. His stomach turns. He pushes the coffee mug away, the smell and taste of peppermint are making him sick now. Too cloying, too sweet, too much in the face of his broken brother's pain.

"I'm alive because of... of him," Danny says finally. "D'you see?"

"Yeah, cause four years later he found a fucking conscience-"

"No. No!" Danny's hands slap down on the table, rattling the ceramic mugs, and his breath is faster, airier. Whistling, almost. "I, I... No. Because he, he, um... He suffered, for me. With me. For four years."

"You suffered," Ryan says, voice flat. "He watched."

Danny looks at him, and there is a darkness there, a shadow around eyes and mouth, that Ryan can't always see. But he sees it now. "He, um. Was made to watch. That... That's suffering, too.”

“Bullshit.”

Danny’s jaw sets. “Don't touch him again, Ryan."

"Don't plan on it."

"Please." Danny's voice drops, almost to a whimper. "Please, Ryan. He's-... He's the only real thing."

"What?" Ryan blinks, but Danny is already pushing himself up, moving away staring out the window at the sunrise as he dumps his coffee into the sink and rinses out the mug. Automatic, thoughtless cleanliness.

Danny doesn't look back at him. He's so tall, towering over everyone, and he is still so... very small, in his fear.

"Abraham could take everything," Danny says, lips barely moving, his eyes locked on the sky slowly turning blue with the morning light. "Everything from me. He did, he, um, he could... do it again. But he never took Nate."

He turns to look at Ryan, and there's a brief flash of Danny again, really Danny, his big brother's flash and fire, before it fades under the weight of what has been done to him.

"You could take Nate away from me," Danny says, voice low. Almost weak. "Please... Please don't, Ryan. Don't touch him again. Don't b-be Abraham, in this house. Don't... Don't. I need... I need, um, this time. With Nate, while I have it. Before he... Before it's over. Before he comes back for me."

He leaves the kitchen with Ryan still staring, guilt an inferno that will burn him alive at the pleading uncertainty in Danny's face, his voice. The door to Danny's bedroom opens and shuts, almost silently.

Ryan is left alone to say, to no one, "But... He can't come back for you. He"s going to prison."

Danny acts like Abraham Denner could just fucking walk out of it.

---

@whump-it, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @finder-of-rings, @burtlederp, @astrobly@whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @swordkallya, @moose-teeth, @untilthepainstarts, @whumpiary, @lave-whump @raigash @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-tr0pes, @wildfaewhump

#daniel michaelson's story #ryan michaelson is a good brother #or he tries anyway #whump #trauma recovery #referenced pet whump #past torture #past pet whump #referenced dissociation #kind of - ryan doesn't understand it yet #referenced alcohol use #caretaker #angry caretaker #broken whumpee #recovering whumpee #ryan is so naive #sorry 'bout that bad arc that hasn't happened yet buddy #conditioning

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanons for being a Party Member

Stranger Kids x reader

warnings:

a/n: 💖💖 these ones were kind bad but i hope you like!

prompt: anonymous: “Hi! Can you make a headcannon for Stranger Things of just being in the party? Sorry if its too vague. Thank you so much for giving us so much free content!!”

you’ve known the boys for a long, long time

your mom was friends with joyce in high school, so you knew will your whole life

he introduced you to mike and soon lucas and dustin had joined the mix

let’s face it, you guys weren’t the most popular, but as long as you had each other it was fine

“at recess do you want to play castle?”

“yes! but we need to make up our characters”

will the wise was born that day, it just stuck

you guys were obsessed with star wars when it came out

“i’d totally be a jedi” -mike

“mike, you’d cry at the sight of any alien creature”

“not true!”

“i think lucas would be a kickass pilot, though”

“i’d get the princess, too” -lucas

dustin ended up playing lightsabers with you, though

you’ve accidentally knocked down tons of stuff in mike’s basement

“cut it out, you guys!”

“soooorryyyyy”

“you are not!”

AV club was just the 5 of you acting afool under adult supervision

mr. clark was still proud of your young minds, though

D&D campaigns, you were the rogue

you were also easily distracted during the game

“anyone want chips, im gonna get some chips”

“no! you can’t leave now!”

“watch me”

playing with mike’s toys while he’s not looking

battling them with lucas, dustin, and will

until mike started protesting

bike rides around town until sunset

SLEEPOVERS

“who the hell is snoring?”

“i think it’s dustin”

“PILLOW FIGHT!!!”

“kids, time to sleep!” -any parent

“let’s watch a scary movie”

“no! i mean—i’m tired” -mike

depending on which house you were staying in, you’d have a great time

will’s brother, jonathan, was always nice to you

nancy...not so much

“hi na—” *door slams* “oh...”

erica always intruded on your sleepovers at lucas’s

“i wanna play! can i play?”

“no, erica, go play somewhere else”

“you’re so mean, lucas”

“bye!”

dustin didn’t have any siblings, but he did have a cat who was pretty nice

“hi mews!”

the night will disappeared was a night you’ll never forget

you were so determined to find him, he had to be around somewhere

you ended up getting in deeper water than you’d originally thought when you met eleven, who apparently had superpowers

“mike!!! you’re mom is gonna kill you for bringing a random girl in the house”

“i know! shhhhh”

she was weird to say the least

and it was pretty scary sneaking around with her

“dude...she has the force”

“shut up!”

after a long week of fighting with your friends and encountering inter dimensional monsters and the government, you realized your life would never be the same

your mom was pretty protective over you for a while

the party had to come to your house instead for the next few months

“sorry guys, she’s just...really upset about the whole thing”

“it’s okay, y/n. we don’t mind”

being each other’s support system

especially when it came to will, he really worried you guys

“today is will’s doctor visit, hope it goes okay...”

spending HOURS in the arcade, struggling to beat other people’s high scores

“i’m gonna do it! i’m gonna get the top score!”

“in your dreams, y/n”

hAlLoWeEn

you knew you weren’t supposed to dress up at school but no one was paying attention to you when you told them

unfortunate.

there was a new girl who mike hated right off the bat

but lucas and dustin wouldn’t stop fighting over

“you two are the worst, you know that?”

trick or treating and dumping your candy later on to trade, the most effective way to get the best halloween

“nougat, disgusting. anybody want it? i’ll give it to you for free”

*dustin and you simultaneously* “ME!”

dustin’s “pet lizard” scaring the hell out of you

“dart makes me...uncomfortable”

max pulling you aside to ask why mike hates her

“uh...he’s a dick? i don’t know”

you and max ended up getting along pretty okay, though

she did complain about mike a LOT though

and when lucas filled her in on the demogorgon/upside-down/eleven situation, EVERYONE was pissed

you guys realized that the upside down stuff was not over and there was an epic teamup with all of you yaaaay

steve harrington adopted you it’s true

eleven came back

that was cool

you gave her a hug bc like duh??? you missed her

steve babysitting you guys and then getting beat up by max’s stepbrother, billy

“can i hit him? i wanna hit him”

“do it!”

doing dumbass shit in the tunnels that ended up working out anyways! yay!

“we’re all gonna die we’re all gonna die oh my god i’m too young to die”

“Y/N STOP”

in the end everything was (mostly) okay but like, that was scarring

summer rolled around and el and mike were dating, max and lucas were dating, and dusting came back from camp and claimed to be dating some girl from faaaar away

“liar”

“i’m not lying!”

steve sneaking you into movies

he also gave you (and only you) free ice cream but only bc he knew you wouldn’t tell anyone else

robin and you talking while you hid in the break room to eat your ice cream

“so...what do you do for fun”

“kill monsters”

“oh...okay”

kinda sick of the party’s shit for a while, so dustin and you were off scheming with the scoops employees

bad ideaaaa!! the russians!! you were almost killed!!

rescue mission for steve and robin

“they’re high as shit”

“nO YOu aRe”

“wonderful, we’re screwed”

losing them fhdhdhsh

“y/n?!”

“what? i’m not a babysitter!”

being chased by russians but also the rest of the party showing up and updating you but also adults finally making an appearance and you wanting to cry because like what the fuck is happening

being chased by the mind flayer

“GUYS IF WE DONT MAKE IT I WANT YOU ALL TO KNOW I LOVE YOU”

“Y/N. STOP SAYING THINGS THAT MAKE US THINK WE’RE GOING TO DIE”

eek that night sucked

you also almost fell down the hill that cerebro was placed on

and then uhhh hopper died so that was really bad and will ended up moving away with el and everyone was very sad

your mom cried when joyce left :(

you cried way too much

might i add going over to lucas’s to hang out with erica bc now you guys are friends lmaooo

“why are you here, y/n?”

“erica wanted me to come over”

“you two are impossible”

and to end this on a high note, the remaining party members in town were finally working through their differences as you all grew up and knew that it’d be impossible to separate for good

also pizza nights every week (sometimes accompanied by an older teen bc why not)

“if you guys eat all the damn pizza we’re gonna have a problem”

“we can’t help it! we’re growing!”

taglist: @locke-writes // @queenofthehairharrington // @praellee // @bonniesbabybunnie // @lotsoffandomrecs //

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #the party #the party x reader #the party imagine #mike wheeler imagine #will byers imagine #lucas sinclair imagine #dustin henderson imagine #eleven hopper imagine #max mayfield imagine #steve harrington imagine #robin buckley imagine #jonathan byers imagine

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incoherentbabblings · 3 years ago

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5 + 48? Separate or in the same I don't mind, just like your writing.

Thank you for the ask! I went for fluff this time!

Birthday Ask Game!

5. “Don’t you love me?” + 48. “Why are you crying?”

It was risky, Tim knew. Steph didn’t take well to surprises, and she did not take well to being the centre of attention. Even when it was just her and Tim, gifts always were fifty-fifty in how they were received. She was never rude about anything he bought her, but he could tell when she was uncomfortable. Squirming with a smile that was more pain than joy, trying not to let her self-hatred win out over the fact that, uncomprehendingly, someone thought she was worth the effort of gift giving. She always reacted much more kindly to homemade gifts. Sentimentality.

It was the fifth year of them meeting. Tim thought he was off to a good start, even remembering such a date. Most men would not remember the day, month and even year of when they met their partner, Tim was sure. Stephanie had been living with him for pushing six months, and slowly her clothes, knick-knacks and furniture moved over. So had her stuffed toys. She had a somewhat sizable collection, though whenever Tim had asked her about it, her face had frozen somewhat.

“My dad used to buy me them,” she’d say, gaze turning resentful at the stuffed elephants and bears and cats and dogs. “With what money? I don’t know. Good times and bad. He’d never just give me the toy. He’d always make me beg for it. Which, when your five, yeah, it’s cute. Don’t you love me Steph? Say yes and you’ll get Mr. Brown. That kind of stuff. Less cute looking back.”

“Bartering affection,” Tim had said, voice distant in his empathy. He understood. Of course he did.

Stephanie had nodded, lips pressed together. “That’s why this one’s my fave.”

She’d reached across the room, pulling a leg out from under the pile of toys. “I keep them to spite him. But this one. This one mom got me.”

The most well-loved bear Tim had ever seen was passed over. Its fur was ratted, half melted as if accidentally left for too long on a heater or stovetop. One eye was barely hanging on, the glue only holding one edge down to the plastic fur. Its limbs were sadly deflated, and its head hung like its neck head had been broken. It was soft to the touch though. All things considered. Tim had looked at his girlfriend quizzically.

She’d sighed, fussing with the bear in Tim’s hands, ensuring it was being held correctly. “Dad had gone to jail. Again. We’d driven away from the courthouse, mom had looked so tired, so sad, and angry. She gave this huge sigh, I remember it in the backseat, then done a U-turn back down the road. She took me to some fancy toy shop in town and told me I could get one bear. Whatever I wanted. I don’t know how she afforded it. I’d never got to choose before. And I picked that one.” She’d smiled sweetly. “Only one she’s ever gotten me, but she said to me that… that it was her gift to me. Her apology. Her promise. She let so much wrong happen to me… but this was the first step. The first moment I thought…”

“It wouldn’t be that bad forever.”

“Right,” and her smile had wobbled, “and I was right. Poor thing has seen some shit, but it’s okay. Sustained through love.”

It was why, one week later, she had come to him, panicked.

“She’s missing,” she’d breathed, rushing around Tim and hunting. She’d thrown pillows across the living room, lifted furniture, rummaged through cupboards, even checked the washing machine.

“Who?” Tim had asked, sipping on his drink.

“Bagel Bear!”

Tim spat out his drink.

“Who?”

“My… Nevermind.” She’d flushed white, then left Tim choking on hot liquid. She’d been mopey the whole week, even patrol couldn’t lift her spirits. She was mourning the poor thing like it was a beloved family pet that had died.

It was why, Tim thought, his gift was risky. He wrapped his hand over her eyes on Friday night, a large cardboard box balancing precariously behind his back in his other hand.

“Guess who?”

“Conner!” she gasped joyfully. Sarcastically.

“Oh, screw you,” Tim grumbled when she burst out laughing. He planted himself next to her on the sofa and held out his gift. “Happy anniversary.”

“Huh?” She looked warily at the box, but dutifully took it.

“Been five years since the brick,” he said proudly.

“Oh! You didn’t need to.”

“You always say that.”

“Because I mean it. I didn’t remember. Still, thank you.”

Tim shifted, wound up and excited. “You haven’t even opened it.”

She held up her hands in deference, then slipped off the ribbon and took off the lid.

She froze, staring at the bear in box – the bear that Tim had taken to be restuffed and repaired to the best of the shop’s ability – and burst into tears.

The risk had not paid off, clearly.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey, what, no! Why are you crying?”

“You had her fixed?” she sniffed, pressing the bear's tummy up to her nose, inhaling the smell of comfort.

“The way you spoke about him, she deserved a little tlc right?”

She nodded, eyes still hidden from Tim’s view, and loudly wept.

“Thank you!”

Tim suddenly had an armful of Stephanie Brown to hold, her own hands tightly wrapped around his shoulders and chest.

“You’re welcome,” he said simply. “I’m glad you like it.”

She played with the bear’s shiny black nose, smiling. “Lucky girl,” she whispered. To herself, or to the bear, Tim didn’t know. He kissed her forehead, and she jolted as a sudden thought came to her.

“I’ll need to show my mom!”

She scrambled off the sofa, grasping for her phone, video calling her mother, cheeks wet and eyes red. Tim watched, unable to stop himself from grinning. Stephanie held the bear up to her face, so that when Crystal answered, the first thing she would see was the fixed stuffed toy.

Crystal dutifully answered, then suddenly, there was the sound of two wailing Browns in the apartment.

#dc #timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #my fic tag

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thelittleboyfromloveactually · 3 years ago

Text

Two Shorten the Road

Part 2

Joel dawson x reader

Warnings: none I think

Word count: 1951

Promt: you and joel are of to a great start on your journey, that is until your get attacked by one of the mutated monsters

I’ve always hated goodbyes, especially when they might be forever. Joel and I had packed quickly and said our goodbyes.

“So joel, you gotta use your advantages, so like your small and fast, so ya know, don’t fight! Just run, run and hide” Tim told Joel

“Take care of him Y/N”

“Stay alive you two!”

“For real! Do not die!”

I met joel right under the bunker’s exit hatch. He looked at me, fear and excitement in his eyes

“You ready?” He asked as he adjusted his backpack

“As ready as I’ll ever be” I said looking up at the ladder

“You know you don’t have to-“ he stared before i cut him off, what was ur gonna take for him to understand that I was coming and that was that.

“I want to, really, I do” I said smiling at him

“Alright then” he said. He looked up and began climbing up the ladder, I followed after him.

We pushed the hatch open, and Joel helped me out. The sun was hot against my skin. I looked at joel. He was looking is all directions, amazed by the sight of the trees and grass. I smiled at him, remembering how long it had been since he’d been outside. We made eye contact, he took a deap breath. Joel jumped down and I followed.

“Ok so, we need to go west” he said looking at his map

“Right…West” I said looking around, I had no idea which way was west, i normally just followed everyone when i went out hunting.

“This is not….very helpful” he said looking at the map

Joel began walking one way, still looking down at his map. He turned noticing I wasn’t following him. Then he began walking the other way

“We’re gonna die” I said

“Hey just because I’m not entirely sure which way is west does not mean we are screwed” he said defensively

“Actually Kato that’s exactly what it means” I said, grabbing the map from his hands

He looked around, thinking for a second as I studied his map. Suddenly he began walking again, i quickly ran up behind him

“Let’s go this way, ya west is this way” he said, nodding confidently “split the difference, done! First decision made”

And we were off

It’s so weird being outside with Joel. I’m hardly used to being outside in general, and joel. Man I cannot even believe why joel is thinking right now, I mean he hasn’t been outside in 7 years. We have been walking for about one hour. We were walking through what seemed like a deserted neighborhood. There were a lot of cars and busses. Covered in vines, rusting away. Preoccupied with what was around me and not what was below me, I tripped, falling on my face.

“Oh shit! Y/N are you ok?” Joel ran over helping you up

“Yup, ya I’m good” I said dusting myself off. I looked up at joel, his eyes had worry behind them. I smiled telling him I was ok. His hands slowly let go of me. I looked down at what I had tripped over. A hot pink frisbee, how convenient.

“Ya I know, I know, your like an strong bad ass” he said jokingly

You laughed and pushed his arm as you began to start walking again

“Y-ya know I never thanked you and stuff, for ya know? Coming with me, I’m actually really glad you came, I don’t think I could do this without my best friend” he said, looking at his feet

“You don’t need to thank me joel, I don’t think I would have been able to stay one day in that colony without you” I smiled

“Also I really do need to thank you because I’m pretty sure I would have been killed already, to death” he said nodding his head

“Killed to death? Really? Wow sounds gruesome” u said laughing

“Wow” he said and we broke out laughing.

Suddenly a sort of rumbling sound came from somewhere, I couldn’t tell which direction. I looked at joel, panic now rest in his eyes.

“Run and hide” he said repeating what he had been told before leaving the bunker “hide….hide in the house! Y/N this way!” He said running toward the house, i threw my bow over my back, adjusting it and then running after him.

The house was quite, the wood creaked under my feet. I took off my bow and grabbed the arrow. Now I was ready to fight whatever bastard was gonna attack us. The sound got louder causing both me and Joel to run outside through the back door. We stumbled out of the house. I looked over at him and he shrugged. Suddenly another sound came from behind us. Bubbles. Me and Joel slowly turned around to see a little pond that had bubbles emerging on its surface. I grabbed an arrow, threading it through my bow as I began walking toward the pond.

“No Y/N!” joel demanded in a whisper

I stumbled back as a creature emerged, it was huge. I slowly backed away. Shit. I could hear Joel trying to tell me to run. He began counting

“Run on three Y/N! One, two, three!” we both broke off in a run toward the gate. I Pulled back my arrow and prepared to shoot but I was too late. Before I knew it I was being thrown into the fence and then dragged toward the toad-like creature. I grabbed desperately onto a log but it just came along with me.

“JOEL! shit! Help me! Grab my bow!” I yelled trying everything I could to slow this thing down. I could feel it’s tongue in my shoe. Joel was frozen in place. Shit. Then barks, something I hadn't heard for 7 years. A small brown dog came running toward me. It bit and chewed at the creature's yellow tongue. It quickly released me and I staggered up. I ran toward joel.

“Come on! We need to go!” I said , guiding him. I stopped to grab my bow before running out of the gate. The dog was behind us. But so was the Toad. The brown dog ran toward a deserted bus that had been decorated, painted. The doors opened and he ran inside, Joel and I followed.

The bus looked like it had been someone’s home at one point. Many different things hung from the room and pages of magazines and drawings covered the windows. I looked around as Joel caught his breath and calmed himself down. I walked over to a table and sat down, looking at what seemed like craft supplies.

“Nice place” Joel said still out of breath “mine if I sit?” Now this man was talking to a dog, figures. The dog looked up as if to say “yes”. Joel sat on the bed and I moved next to him.

“Are you ok?” He asked sweetly

“Ya, I’m good” I said smiling

Joel nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. “Are you all alone?” I asked the dog, he was laying on a bed made out of a quilt and a pillow that said “boy” on it. The dog shifted its head away from us in response. I really love dogs, and this was breaking my heart. I sat down next to the animal and began petting it. I could feel Joel’s eyes on me. Eager to break the silence I decided to test my theory for the dog's name.

“Boy” I said and the dog sat up, he was suddenly all ears. “Is that your name? Boy?” I asked, smiling and giving him more pets. Joel smiled.

“Your names boy” joel said “I’m Joel, and that pretty lady is Y/N” he said gesturing to me “she’s my best friend, thank you for saving her” he whispered

I smiled, how could anyone not love this boy? This Aimee chick is quite lucky. I am worried though. What if she moved on? Joel would be broken.

“Nice to meet you” I said kissing the dog on the head

Joel smiled and then continued to look around. His eyes fell on a red dress.

“Is this a dress?” He asked picking it up

“No, it’s a hat” I said sarcastically, Joel looked at me, confused. “I’m kidding” I said and I could see the realization in his eyes. Suddenly Boy moved and grabbed the dress out of Joel’s hands and brought it back to his bed.

“Ok, I won’t touch it again” Joel said, throwing his hand up in defense. I looked carefully at the dog. He looked sad

“Was that your owner’s?” I asked, the dog stayed still. I laid down to get closer to him “it’s ok, you don’t have to talk about it” I looked at Joel and shrugged. Then I realized “wait did you think I was her?” I asked the dog, still he lay avoiding eye contact. I sighed, this poor dog.

“Hey um, I’m gonna lay down too” Joel chimed in “is that o…” he stopped to take off his backpack which seemed to startle the poor thing. “No it’s ok! It’s just my backpack” Joel reassures the dog. He plopped it down on the floor and moved his feet up on the bed. I laid down next to the dog bed, laying my bow and arrows next to me.

“Wait hey” Joel said sitting up a little “you don’t have to nap on the floor” he told me

“It’s fine, I like to be close to Boy” I responded smiling

“Are you sure? I mean I feel like I should really let you sleep on the bed since you almost died and I couldn’t save you” he said sitting up fully

“Joel, it’s fine! I'm serious, and please do not beat yourself up about that. It’s not your fault!” I told him, trying to ease his worry.

He nodded “kkkkkkkkkkk” he said “just take this though” he took off his red jacket and handed it to me

I gave him a look that said “no really I’m fine” then he returned the look with an “I insist” look. I gave in and used the jacket as a blanket. I closed my eyes, almost drifting off to sleep…..but then Joel was up and at em. He put his backpack on and began to walk out of the bus. I scrambled up and followed him. Guess we are leaving…. Boy followed us out and for some reason Joel seemed surprised.

“Oh hey are you coming with us?” Joel asked and Boy ran back inside “ok then” then suddenly Boy was back out with the red dress

“Oh yes of course, Joel,” I looked at Joel. “We cannot forget the dress!” I told him as if it was obvious

“Oh right ya, here Boy let me put it in my backpack” he tried to pull it away from Boy but he wouldn’t drop it

“Hey it’s ok, he’s gonna keep it so safe in the safe pack” I said kneeling down to sooth the dog. He let go and Joel put the red dress in his backpack. I adjusted my bow and we began walking. Me on the right, Joel on the left and Boy in the middle. My weird brain couldn’t help but think about if we could all be a family. If everything was normal. We would get married and adopt Boy. That is if I ever get the courage to tell Joel how I feel and if he feels the same. Welp! Until then I am stuck in my imagination as we venture closer toward our destination.

#joel dawson series #joel dawson fics #joel dawson x reader #Joel dawson #love and monsters

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fallingfor-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Teachers Pet- Prologue

All chapters

Its your sixth year here at Beauxbatons, but your mother has just informed you that your parents are getting divorced and you will be leaving your dad, meaning you have to move and transfer to Hogwarts. You were finally starting to feel grown and now everything is changing, but unbeknownst to you, the lonely potions professor will capture your heart and hold it for many years to come.

A Severus Snape fan fiction.

A/n hello, welcome to my first harry potter story, i'm going to start by saying all my knowledge is from the movies, some things/timelines may not line up correctly/aren't completely accurate or not mentioned but its to go with the flow of the story! thank you and enjoy!

I continued packing and sorting through all my belongings in my room while listening to music, attempting to drown out the cries and yells coming from downstairs. My mother had just announced to my father that she was leaving him and taking me with her. He was going to be left with nothing but the house and his things, I was okay with that though, he was nothing slight of an asshole. I sat down staring at a picture of me and my older sister when we were little, sitting in the same dusty plaid green sofa that sat in my living room at this very moment. I sighed as I briskly wiped a single tear that slid down my cheek, not wanting to be seen, I knew that was silly and that it was me simply being human, but my parents never showed much emotion around me, and my father often mocked those who expressed them, calling them weak minded for grieving or even crying for that matter. And my mother would often leave the room the minute she felt anything other than joy or anger, but she never fooled anyone, we always knew she walked away to cry silently alone. I remember vividly the first time I saw my mother cry. I was 7 and her father had passed away a couple days prior and we all went for a walk downtown, there was a candlelight vigil for some random old guy, but he had died from the same thing that took my grandfather from her. He wasn't around much when she was younger and he never bothered to meet my sister or I but I knew she still held tightly on the fond memories of him from when she was a girl. She began to walk away and me being clueless followed her, it was then I saw her taking out a handkerchief and wiping a few stray tears away. I reached my little hand up and rested it on her shoulder and told her it's ok, but she shrugged it off and told me to go back with my dad and keep walking. That's when I learned to just leave her alone anytime she was upset. I had never seen my father cry in my entire life until a couple months ago when his father was then taken from him, and even then it was only a few tears at his funeral which were quickly whisked away and never to be seen again. It was no surprise though.

I didn't dare go downstairs at the moment I knew my presence would only make things worse. Even amidst all this chaos neither of them shed a tear, which led me to believe they never really cared for each other the way parents were supposed to. It hurt watching the family being broken apart but what hurt the most was leaving Beauxbatons. I had just begun my sixth year there and I was so excited, I was almost done, I loved this school it was perfect for a girl like me, and I was dreading moving schools, but when I found out I was enrolling in Hogwarts I did a lot of research which wasn't easy, luckily I knew someone who worked there, or shall I say ran the whole thing. Albus Dumbledore, also known as my godfather, I know it may seem weird for me to have ever attended Beauxbatons, but my sister went there and my mother wanted me to follow in her footsteps, she wasn't happy about me transferring either, but she knew we needed to get far from my father.

I got up off my creaky bed and gently waved my wand in the air and finished packing everything up, setting the picture frame in last and closing my suitcases. I stood still for a moment thinking over all the memories I had in this house, I had lived here as long as I could remember and I was devastated to leave it. Especially in the care of my useless father. I tucked my h/c hair out of my face and behind my ear and muttered a spell which lifted my suitcases for me and began to quietly walk out of my room pausing in the doorway to listen for the muffled voices of my parents, I waited about three minutes and heard nothing assuming they either tired out from arguing or just got so mad they both stormed away. I turned to look into my room for one last time, admiring the homey feel it gave off, the light grey walls that I had just painted a year prior because I wanted a more "mature look" as opposed to the bright blue that had remained prior from when I was 10. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed the door behind me, walking down the rickety stairs that creaked with every step, my luggage following close behind. I ran my hand along the railing, taking in every chip and crack from many times sliding down them with my sister.

As I approached the living room I noticed my father lazily plopped on the couch looking over a newspaper, visibly tired from the arguing he had just got done doing. "Where's mother?'' I asked in a small tone, careful not to startle him. "She's loading her stuff into the car...did you know she was going to take that too?" he asked with a clear tone of anger. "No actually I didn't." I said smirking sarcastically and heading out the front door. "Hey" I said with a small smile as I approached the car. My mother was hurriedly loading her stuff in and asking me to do as many spells as I could to fit it all in the small car. She didn't answer as she continued loading stuff in. "Need any help?" I asked using the same spells on my luggage and putting it in the front seat where my feet would go. "No y/n right now I just need your father to not be a fucking asshole" she spoke in a harsh but obviously exhausted tone. "Ha well only in our dreams right '' I said laughing slightly trying to lighten the mood. She just ignored it and shut the trunk of the car with a loud slam. "Keep slamming shit and you won't have a car to take from me!" I heard my dad holler from the house. I turned and faced the door where his voice boomed from and looked back at my mom, "Anything else we need?" I asked politely. "No that's all now go say goodbye I'll be waiting here in the car." she said sternly and got into the car without a second thought starting it up and waiting. I quickly went up the steps into my home and walked into my fathers line of view. "We are leaving now." I said with my hands on my hips staring at him as he continued to read the paper. "Mm" was all he said, I continued to stand there staring him down. "Is there anything else you want to say before we go?" I asked my patience growing thin as he continued to read the paper, slowly flipping the pages of the thin material and ignoring my questions. "Okay , well If not I'm going to go, hopefully I don't get in an accident and DIE on the way there" I said sarcastically seeing if it would lead him to saying even a simple "goodbye". No answer. "Ok, bye father. I am sorry things aren't different." I said as I walked away, as I passed the mantle on the fireplace I noticed a picture my mother had conveniently left behind, it was a family photo from a trip we all took when I was about 13, I picked it up and looked at it closely. We all looked so happy, there was still light in my eyes and love in my parents'. I looked over my shoulder at my father seeing he still had his nose in the paper and I put the picture in my bag I had draped on my shoulder.

I heard my mom honking the horn and looked up at the open door, I looked one last time back at my father before heading out to the front, closing the door behind me and heading down the step. I climbed in the passenger seat and shut the door putting my bag in my lap and double checking I had my wand. I took the letter I had received from Dumbledore when he found out I was transferring and reviewed over the helpful words he had written to get me familiar with how things worked here. I studied the steps to get there and what to expect upon arrival. Since school had already started three weeks ago I knew I was going to have some catching up to do. I turned the paper over and muttered "aparecium" to myself to reveal the map of Hogwarts he put on the back so I wouldn't stick out like a first year who is lost and has no idea where anything is, even though I didn't have a clue.

" Are you excited?" my mother asked as we continued to drive to the train station. "Not particularly" I said looking out the window as we drove farther and farther away from the town I had spent my whole life in and grown to love. "I think you will find that you love Hogwarts, it's a lovely school according to Albus" she said, trying to get me to be more positive about the situation, but I just continued to stay silent. "Look y/n I know this is hard, it's not easy for me either, but this is a good thing, it's a new chapter for us, and you are going to meet so many new witches and wizards and you're going to make a lot of new memories!" she said looking over at me smiling. "I doubt it," I said trying to focus on anything else but the current situation. "Well I tried if you don't want to see this as a good thing fine, but I wasn't going to stick around with that dirt bag father of yours, I needed to make a choice on what's best for us." She said a hint of anger in her tone at my relentless and stubborn attitude. "I know I'm just sad," I said honestly as we approached the train station. I began to feel a nervous tickle in my chest, and not a good one, not only had I never gone through platform 9 ¾ but I had never even ridden a train. I mean it can't be too scary. Maybe it was the being alone part. "Ok we are here, are you ready?" my mother said parking and smiling at me. "Fuck no."

#severusnape #snape #severus snape x reader #snape x reader #slytherin #hogwarts #severusimagine #severus x reader #Snape slowburn #x reader #professor snape

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

Text

Save Him

Alright. Got an idea and I gotta get it out before I lose it completely

Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

There are no gender specific terms in this, so it’s anybody’s read.

Warnings: Slight angst, light fluff, Shiggy being really freaking soft and vulnerable

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: Weak Shiggy has me weeping and I love it so much. Like, there’s no way he’s not struggling with the nature of his quirk. It’s gotta take a toll on him mentally, and I really wanted to channel it here. I may or may not write a part 2 if I can figure out what to actually write...

*Update, I figured out what to write lol*

Part 2 - Part 3

Enjoy~

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like your quirk at least a little bit. It wasn’t an offensive quirk, in fact you couldn’t use it for any type of combat. But it did have its perks. Anyone within a ten foot radius of you would have their quirks temporarily nullified while in that space. Hell, they didn’t even have to be standing in that ten foot radius. Once a quirk got past that mark, it quite literally dissolved. It had taken a while for your quirk to even be able to show itself. When you were little, most people thought you were quirkless. It had taken a couple years for you to realize that people’s quirks stopped working around you.

That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? Nobody wanted to be anywhere near you, because you couldn’t turn it off. Your parents hadn’t even stuck around for a week after you were born, choosing instead to dump you at the doorstep of an orphanage. You’d gotten sick of that life rather quickly. Now you were living on the streets, stealing and fighting your way around. You didn’t care about society anymore, the world could burn for all you care. It’s left you to rot, completely forgotten.

Other than survival, you had a slightly different goal in mind. There was a person - a villain, so they say. He couldn’t touch anything with all five of his fingers, or the subject of his touch would crumble to dust. And you wanted nothing more than to give him what he no doubt wanted: To be able to touch, and not fear leaving nothing but dust in its wake. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that felt like. Sure there were things like specialty gloves he could wear. But it’s not quite the same, is it?

And that goal is what put you here, right now. Like an idiot you’d gone and decided you’d look for the famous leader of the League of Villains. And you’d gotten caught. And you were strapped to a chair, in an old bar, with Tomura Shigaraki’s ungloved hand at your throat, one finger lifted in a threat he had no idea was stupidly empty.

“I’m not going to ask again, doll, who the fuck sent you?” he spat, the alcohol on his breath swarming your senses. “I won’t hesitate to let my finger down and watch your body crumble into dust.” You look him dead in the eyes and repeat the same thing you’d said about ten times before. “Do it Shigaraki! Put your finger down! You don’t fucking scare me. I wasn’t sent by anyone. I came on my own! I came to find you and finally give you something you might want.” You nearly snarled into his face, your voice hoarse and throat raw.

Dabi was the only other person there, at the far end of the bar. He’d been watching the entire scene play out, and he was finally getting bored. “Just fucking kill ‘em already. This shit’s getting old.” But Shigaraki wasn’t having it. He was convinced you were there for some ulterior motives. And, well, he wasn’t completely wrong. You didn’t actually tell him what you wanted to ‘give’ him. He decided he couldn’t do anything on his own. “Dabi, get the fuck over here. You’re gonna burn it out of this thick ass skull.”

The patchworked villain’s eyebrows shot up and his lips pulled into a sickly sadistic grin. You weren’t at all worried, though, knowing exactly what would happen. As soon as he stepped into that ten foot radius, he froze. His face dropped, and he looked you right in the eyes, knowing exactly why you were unfazed by Shigaraki’s threats. He titled his head at you, and he glanced over at Shigaraki, then back to you. “Give…” he muttered, recalling your words, and you gave a small nod.

“What the fuck are you just standing there for? Get your fucking flames out!” Shigaraki growled. You had no idea how he hadn’t noticed his missing quirk. Dabi looked at him, “Do it. Put down your last finger.” “What the fuck? Now you wanna kill the little shit?!” he yelled, clearly annoyed. Instead, Dabi waltzed over to you, brought out a knife, and cut all the ropes from your chair. He knew exactly what you were here for. And the second you were free, he left the room.

Shigaraki only stared, dumbfounded. His moment of shock gave you just enough time to grab his wrist, pull it up in between your faces, and lace your fingers through all five of his, squeezing hard. He stared at his hand entwined in yours, and his eyes drifted to meet yours. Your eyes were full of resolve and conviction, and his shifted from anger, to fear, to complete sadness in a split second. “This is what I came to give you, Shigaraki. This is why you don’t scare me. This is why all of your threats were completely, ridiculously empty,” you say, never breaking eye contact.

You didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect from the villain, considering his reputation for being completely and utterly ruthless. People always said he was a bloodthirsty monster, a villain in all respects of the name. But the man that stood in front of you was so incredibly vulnerable you didn’t know what to think. You stood there, his hand in yours, staring into each other’s eyes for nearly a minute.

After a long, thick silence, a lone tear fell down the man’s face, and the hand you were holding began to shake. In that moment you knew that this limited contact alone wasn’t enough. You slowly dropped his hand at his side, and opened your arms wide. He looked down at your outstretched arms, and in a split second he launched himself into your embrace, wrapping his arms around your torso, cradling his face into your neck, clawing at your back like it was his lifeline. You held him as he shook, stroking his hair and rubbing circles into his back.

When his sobs died down, you began to pull away, and he squeezed you tighter in his arms. You chuckled softly, “I’m not going anywhere. But I think it would be a good idea to get a little more comfortable,” you said, still petting his hair. He nodded, letting you out of the embrace and lacing his hand through yours again, and began to lead you to his room. He was completely silent the entire time. As he reached his door he hestitated, and made sure to keep one finger off the doorknob.

You noticed the small break in his movements. “You don’t have to worry around me. Your quirk doesn’t work at all in a ten foot radius of me. It will be completely nullified, like you’re quirkless, until you step out of the area.” He looked at you once more before wrapping all five fingers around the door handle and opening the door. Such a simple task would seem normal, but for him it was a haven he never wanted to leave, and he held onto the door for a few seconds longer.

When you reached the mattress on the floor, he let you lay down first on your back, and he lay down almost completely on top of you. His head was on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin under your shirt, relishing in the feeling. If he wanted to keep you here forever, you’d be more than happy to stay. Because you were finally wanted.

For once, someone desperately wanted to be around you.

For once he could touch without fear of destruction.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki tomura fanfic

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

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“All you have to do is ask” Chapter 8 - [Reid x Reader]

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Summary: After their weekend together, Reader and Dr. Reid have very different ideas on what the next step is. But all of that will have to wait because there’s a serial arsonist in D.C. who has been choosing victims that appear too random.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Angst. Just all the angst. There is a moment of smut...but it’s angsty smut.

Content Warnings: The usual criminal minds talk of m*rder and mayhem. Mentioned of drug addiction. Vaginal penetration. Unprotected sex. And there is a character that gets seriously injured, but is ultimately fine.

Word Count: 6.6k for Chapter 8

A/n: There is a quote by Jane Austen that says, “All my characters shall have, after a bit of trouble, all that they desire.” That’s my philosophy on writing. I know this isn’t what everyone signed up for when they started reading a sub!Spencer fic. This my hurt you heart, but I promise you the part of Chapter 9 that mends it is already written. If you want to wait to read this until Chapter 9 comes out to read this, I understand. The earliest it will be out is tomorrow, the latest is Friday.

-- Chapter 8 – “Because I love you” --

Spencer had been reluctant for me to go home last night, but eventually relented when I pointed out that I couldn’t very well show up to work in what I was wearing when I left yesterday. He had kissed me so softly before I left that it made me ache. Everything felt so different, but everything was the same.

The next morning, I was getting ready when I heard my phone ding with a text message. I smiled when I saw Spencer’s name.

“Open your door.”

Not a second later I heard a knock on my door. My eyebrows drew together as I crossed the living room, throwing the door open to see a very chipper Dr. Spencer Reid standing on the other side.

“Hi,” he said softly, smiling at me.

“Hi?” I laughed; I really couldn’t help it. “What are you doing here, Doc?”

“I brought you this.” I noticed the cups in his hand then, both from the coffee shop I showed him yesterday. “Even though it felt wrong to order it,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up,” I said, taking my iced coffee from him before I waved him into my apartment. Iced coffee was an abomination to my Dr. Reid. “You only hate it because you haven’t tried it.”

He moved to sit on my couch, taking a sip of his own drink. “And I will continue to hate it without having tried it.”

“Brat,” I muttered, moving to stand in front of him. I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it’s 6:45 in the morning. You were going to see me in, what, an hour anyway?” How early did he have to get up to do this?

His bottom lip stuck out in a slight pout. “Are you upset that I came by?”

My nervous, darling boy. “Never, Doc.” I turned to go back into my room to finish getting ready.

“I also thought we should talk about what we’re going to do today,” he called from the living room.

Huh? “What do you mean?” I picked out a pair of ankle boots from my closet that would match with my outfit. “Do we have a new case?”

“Probably,” he said, scaring the shit out of me. I didn’t realize he’d gotten up and come into my bedroom.

“Jesus, Spencer,” I laughed, my hand over my heart. “Warn a girl next time, alright?” I finished putting on my shoes, checking my hair and makeup in the mirror a final time before I turned to walk back into the living room. “So, we need to talk about the fact that we ‘probably’ have a case?”

“No,” he said, reaching out to grab my elbow, stilling my movements. “I wanted to talk about us. And what we’re going to tell the team.”

Oh no. “Tell the team…about what?” I hedged.

Spencer's eyebrows came together in confusion. "…About us?”

“…Why would we tell the team?” My question sounded hollow in my own ears.

My darling, darling boy looked confused for a second. “Well, its protocol. We’re on the same team. And…” he swallowed thickly. “I-I thought that…”

I felt my heart splinter into a million pieces. "Spencer," I began quietly. "I don't know if we…I'm not sure if that’s the best idea.”

“What do you mean?” He looked so crestfallen, so fucking hurt that I could barely breathe. "I thought after last weekend that..." he trailed off. He looked so young in that moment like he really was a small boy afraid that someone he cared about would leave him. "I thought you wanted to be with me."

His sadness was a punch to my gut. “Spencer,” I said gently. “It is not that. It’s not that at all.” I took a step towards him, reaching out to place my hand on his arm. “I just…you’ve never been involved in this sort of relationship before. There are a lot of high emotions that come with this-“

“What are you saying?” he interrupted, his voice hard.

“I’m saying that we need to give this time before you make any sort of decision about us other than our established BDSM relationship.” He jerked his arm away from me. Don’t do this to me, baby. "Spence, plenty of people have a relationship within a dom/sub relationship. I have! It can work. But…” I trailed off.

“But what, y/n?” His eyes were cold. They looked so wrong. My boy was supposed to have warm amber eyes. Not these flat brown eyes that made my heart feel hollow.

“I’m saying that it’s only been one weekend. And I need you to be sure. We need to be sure about each other.”

“So, you aren’t sure?” He took a step towards me, crowding my space. “You seemed pretty fucking sure last night.” Spencer looked up at the ceiling, running his hand through his hair. “How can you stand here and say you aren’t sure after what we did together last night?!”

Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes. “It was just sex, Spencer.” Liar.

He backed away from me, a look of disgust on his face. “I’ve asked you once before not to lie to me, y/n. You know that what we did last night was a whole lot more than ‘just sex’ or ‘fucking.’ You can lie to yourself about it, but don’t you dare fucking lie to me!”

“Then what was it, Spencer?” My anger matched his own, my hands were shaking so hard I had to ball them into fists at my sides.

Spencer turned then, taking several steps until he was in front of me again. His hand moved up to the left side of my face; he ran his thumb over the cupid’s bow of my mouth. “You know what it was, y/n.” His head tilted down while his thumb ran over my bottom lip. “I made love to you last night. You’re hiding, and I don’t understand why. But please. You promised you wouldn’t regret it. Do you?” His eyes searched my face frantically.

“Not for an instant, Spencer.” My eyes were starting to brim over with emotion.

“Then don’t push me away, baby. I know you’re scared.” He moved to close the few inches that separated us, his lips brushing over mine softly, sending a tingle down my entire body.

“I’m not pushing you away,” I said against his mouth. “I just…Can we give it time?” He pulled back from me, his hand dropping from my face, leaving me cold. “Spencer, you’ve never done this before, you went through a lot of high emotions this weekend… that might have affected how you think you’re feeling.”

Spencer gave a jerk, abruptly pulling completely away from me. “I know exactly how I fucking feel.” His words were low and harsh. Without looking back at me he stormed out of my apartment.

The tears didn’t come until I saw he had left his coffee cup behind.

I was only 15 minutes late for work, and I think I had fixed my face enough so that it didn't look like I had been crying. The team was already in the conference room when I arrived. I darted inside, mumbling my apologies.

“Did you sleep in,” Morgan teased from beside me.

I just shot him an obviously fake glare. “Maybe.”

That seemed to ease the tension in the room…except the tension that was coming from the man sitting in between JJ and Morgan, the man refusing to look at me.

My heart broke more every single second he ignored me. But this is what I deserve.

Garcia walked into the room then, iPads and casefiles in hand. “Welcome back, crimefighters. We’re coming in hot today but luckily we’re staying close to home!” She passed out the iPads to all of us, save my boy who got a paper file, with a huge smile on her face. “There’s a serial arsonist right here in D.C.!”

JJ laughed. “That’s a weird thing to sound happy about, Penelope.”

“And we have a problem,” Hotch said, walking into the room and shutting the door.

“Figures,” Morgan muttered. “We get a weekend off and come back to a problem.”

Garcia smiled at him before turning to Hotch. “A problem with what, Sir? I didn’t see any problems in the files. Other than murder…and destruction of property…Just general icky-ness.”

Hotch sighed, gesturing for her to put the photos on the monitor. "Over the past month, there have been three fires in Dupont Circle. So far 6 people have died. He seems to be targeting married couples with no children or pets."

“It’s not uncommon for arsonists to avoid places with pets,” Morgan mused.

“What is uncommon is how random the victims are. Garcia?” Hotch motioned for her to go on.

"Right, well D.C. Police didn't even realize the fires were connected at first. In the first two fires, they initially couldn't find the origin point where the fire started."

“What?” I asked. “How can the unsub be hiding that?”

“People can hide lots of things.” That comment came from my boy. I looked over at him, but he still refused to meet my eyes.

“That they can, Doc.”

“That’s all the information we have Sir,” Penelope said to Hotch. “I’m not sure what the problem is.”

"The victims are too random, which is why I wanted to look them over before we officially accepted the case. I think I've found his pattern. Garcia," he said, shifting his focus to her. "Can you cross-reference the names of all the victims against BAU cases?"

As Garcia sat down and started typing Morgan turned to our unit chief. “What are you thinking here, Hotch?”

“I recognized one of the victims of the second fire. We questioned him years ago. Gideon and I were the ones that brought him in. There was a string of rapes in the Washington Highlands area.” Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. “We thought he looked good for it, but he had a solid alibi. His wife said she with him all night. The case was never solved.”

“Oh my god,” Garcia gasped out, her eyes wide. “We’ve brought all three male victims in for questioning on different cases over the years.”

“And there’s our problem. You’d either have to be a member of D.C. police or someone in the Bureau to know that they had been questioned.”

Fuck me running. “So, we have a serial arsonist that might be able to know every move we make as we make it?”

This day just keeps getting better and better.

After hours of speaking with the D.C. fire departments and working with local police, Derek and Prentiss made a discovery when they examined the crime scenes.

“I’m telling you Hotch," Morgan's voice rang out from the phone held in our unit chief's hand. "The scene has been tampered with. The reason they had a hard time finding the ignition point is because someone went to a hell of a lot of trouble to cover it up after the fact."

“That confirms our theory that the unsub is a member of law enforcement or the fire department,” Spencer chimed in.

Rossi came over to the table, his hands in his pockets, a worried look on his lined face. "Being a member of the fire department fits better if you're trying to hide the ignition point," he began. "But a firefighter wouldn't have access to the files on who was questioned.

Derek made a noise of agreement. “I think we might be looking at a team.”

“That would make sense,” I said, looking up from the files on the round table. “No firefighter showed up at all 3 fires. We know he’s organized, but arsonists are compulsive. He would have to be nearby to watch it all burn.”

“You think maybe an off-duty cop or firefighter was in the crowd,” Spencer said, finally, finally, finally meeting my eyes for the first time that day. His eyes were lit with excitement over figuring a puzzle out. “No one would notice a person like that being at all 3 fires. And nobody would notice if a firefighter or cop asked to come take a look once the fire was out.”

I nodded. “Correct again, Doc.”

His gaze shuttered at that, his jaw locking, then he turned his back to me.

“We’re gonna have to re-interview all the firefighters and D.C. police,” Hotch said with a sigh. “He’s one of them.”

“I can ask Will if he’ll come in. A lot of the cops in his prescient have also worked Dupont Circle in the past. Maybe he can help us narrow it down,” JJ chimed in.

Hotch nodded. “Tomorrow. We all need to go home tonight. D.C. police are on high alert. We’re not going to catch him tonight. Get some rest.”

With that dismissal, the team disbanded from the conference room.

I tried to catch him, but my boy was gone before I even got back to my desk.

“Hey, Spence. It’s me again. I…I know that you probably don’t want to talk to me. You also probably don’t want me leaving you voicemails. You hate voicemails. But…I’m just worried about you and I want to know that you’re okay. Please call me back.”

"Hey, Doc. I'm just checking on you again. Please call me back."

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me. I’m sorry.”

The clock above my TV said that it was almost midnight, but I wasn’t aware of any time passing. My eyes were swollen from crying but the rest of my body felt numb. I had been calling and texting Spencer for hours with no reply. I couldn’t believe that he would do this to me…especially after what I told him yesterday.

It’s strange how this weekend already feels like it was years ago. The best two days of my life…gone. Maybe my ex was right...maybe I’m not worth it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a banging on my door that was so loud and so sudden I almost jumped out of my skin.

Having every intention of just ignoring whoever it was, I didn't move to get up. But then the banging got louder.

I quickly scrambled to my gun safe, putting my thumb against the sensor to unlock it. Gun in hand, I moved towards the door. The banging was constant now, and so forceful I was worried my door would fly off the hinges.

I looked through the peephole in my door, my gun gripped in my right hand. I saw him at the same time he spoke. “Y/n,” Spencer called, pounding on my door. “Let me in!”

I put my gun down and had the lock off and the door open in seconds. "Spencer, what in the ever-loving fu-“

My words were cut off because he pushed through the door, entering my apartment without even looking at me. This feels familiar. I turned to face my boy, angry but in a different way than I had seen him before. “What are you doing here, Doc?”

He gave a bitter smile at that. “We’ve been here before. Don’t call me Doc right now.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your messages. At first, I was ignoring you, but then I…went somewhere where I couldn’t have my phone.”

His words felt like an ice pick in my heart. “You were ignoring me?” My voice was small. “And…you went…” I couldn’t finish my thought; I just wrapped my arms around my middle.

“Yes, y/n,” he said simply. “I was ignoring your calls. I didn’t…” His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he considered me. “I was afraid of what I’d say…what I’d do.”

“Oh.”

Spencer shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I went to a meeting. Then I went across town and went to another one.”

“Spencer." My voice was a whisper, emotions threatening to overtake me. "I'm so fucking sorry.” I hurt him so much he went to multiple meetings? I did that to him?

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” His tone wasn’t dismissive just…impersonal. “Your actions are your own, how I respond to those actions is all I can control.”

“Did the…did you?”

He pulled both of his lips between his teeth. He knew what I meant. He always knows. “No, y/n, I didn’t.” His tongue tapped against his top lip. “But, I really, really fucking wanted to.”

My entire body went cold. “Spencer, I didn’t mean to-“

"Don't, y/n." His hands left his pockets; he crossed his arms over his chest. "I know. I was in the middle of my second meeting when I realized. I was thinking about the quickest way I could get in touch with my old dealer." I winced at his words. "Because…how was I supposed to live with the fact that you dismissed the most…" I saw his anger rising again as he thought about it. "It was one of the most important fucking moments of my life,y/n!” The voice that was usually so soft was laced with bitterness.

My tears started falling then. “Spencer I never meant to hurt you.” I curled my body more into myself. “I…I don’t know how to fix this.”

"That's when I realized what was happening," he continued like I hadn't spoken. "I remembered the look on your face when I told you that you were all sunshine and kindness. You balked at the idea." His eyes bore into me, laying me bare. "You're trying to protect yourself, and it's a natural instinct. But you're hurting me to do it.”

I saw the moment his anger left his body. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes went glassy and I felt the hurt wash over him. “You have to stop doing this,” he whispered, his voice strained. Each one of the tears that fell from those beautiful brown eyes was a knife in my stomach. “You have to let someone care about you.” Spencer cut the distance between us. He reached for me, his hands come up to hold my face, while his own crumpled. “You have to let me care about you.”

I couldn’t bear to see him cry; I couldn’t live with myself when I was the cause of this wonderful, beautiful man’s pain. I looked straight into his eyes, taking in all the pain I’d caused. “I want to, Doc,” I whispered. “But I don’t know how.”

His mouth crashed against mine. Spencer was desperate in a way I hadn’t felt before; he ripped my shirt from my body while I tugged his shirt free from his pants. His mouth moved down to my neck, sucking harshly while I worked his belt off. I slipped my hand inside of his underwear, palming him. He was already hot and hard, and I ached for him. I’m not sure which one of us pulled the other down to my living room floor, but I felt the cool wood on my back as Spencer settled over me.

His hand came up to brush my hair out of my face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. The pressure of his hands changed. The desire still burned between us, but it wasn’t fueled by pain and rage. Spencer kissed me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever held. His fingers were soft when they slipped into my panties, finding me already wet for him. There was no smirk on his face when he unfastened his pants or when he pulled mine off.

He held himself against me, not quite inside of me yet. Spencer Reid, my wonderful, darling, nervous boy leaned over me, put his mouth against my neck when he entered me. My back arched and I moaned loudly at the invasion. He peppered kisses from my shoulder, around my neck, until he reached the other side. His mouth moved up my cheek, finally finding my lips while he continued to move inside me.

This felt different than last night. If last night was making love…I don’t know what this could be. I felt like Spencer was inside every part of me, consuming me. He pulled back, looking in my eyes, his thrusts never slowing. “I know you’re not ready to hear it,” he whispered. “But you need to know I feel it. I’ve felt it since the first time you smiled at me, y/n.”

He moved his hand down between our bodies, brushing against my clit. I hadn’t thought I’d be able to cum, but he quickly proved me wrong. I felt my orgasm rising up inside me but even it felt different. It wasn’t frantic or intense, it was slow and powerful…it was perfect, just like my boy was.

Spencer felt when my orgasm started to break. “When you’re ready to hear it, I’ll never stop telling you. I will tell you about how I’ll feel it forever, and how no one has ever felt it the way I do with you.”

I’m not sure if I started crying from the sudden release of the orgasm or from his words, but tears slipped down my cheeks while I held him to me tightly when he found his own pleasure.

“Stay with me,” he whispered against my mouth.

Always.

Both of our phones went off at 5 am the following morning.

“Hurry!” Garcia’s first text read. The second made my stomach drop. “There was another fire!”

We arrived on the scene as quickly as we could. I didn't live very far from Spencer, so it wasn't that weird for me to swing by his place and "pick him up." In reality, he just needed to change his clothes. His left hand held onto my right as we drove towards the fire that had claimed 2 more lives.

“We have to talk,” he said at last.

“I know.” Because I did.

“After the case?”

I nodded, bringing our joined hands up so I could press a kiss to the back of his hand.

The next two victims were just like the others; a husband who had been questioned in a serial murder investigation by the BAU and the wife that was his alibi. After interviewing everyone again we kept coming up with one name over and over. Edward Gordon was a responding officer at the first and third fires, but several people remember seeing him at fire two. He was on duty for the fourth fire and was already on the scene when the BAU agents showed up.

He had applied to the FBI academy but was denied; that denial didn’t stop him from applying to the D.C. police department. He fit the profile; he had the connections needed to pull it off. We were on our way to his house with a warrant. I was sitting in the passenger seat while Morgan drove; Prentiss and Rossi were in the back. “I don’t like this,” Rossi muttered.

“What’s up?” Derek asked.

"I don't know," the older man said. "It just feels…gift wrapped." He turned to look at Emily. "It wasn't until the firefighter you talked to remembered him that anyone else remembered him.”

“Right,” Emily said, consulting her notes. “Jeff Sawyers. He’s 35, married, and well-liked by everyone. We ruled him out.”

Rossi shook his head. “Everyone we talked to said that Gordon was a loner, he didn’t stick out. No one noticed him. So why did Sawyers?”

“Maybe he felt something? Like when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up?” Morgan offered.

“Well,” Rossi said with a sigh, sitting back. “I don’t know about you guys, but the hairs on the back of my neck are already up.”

Mine are too.

Arresting Edward Gordon was too easy. He didn’t put up much of a fight, which made me more nervous.

“Guys,” Spencer called while Morgan loaded Gordon into a suburban. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Hotch nodded. “Something is off. Stay sharp, we need to clear the area.”

We broke off into teams to do another sweep of Gordon’s house. I was with Hotch in the basement, Rossi and Reid took the main floor, and JJ and Prentiss to the top.

“There’s nothing,” I said when we all met again on the front porch. “But something feels wrong.”

Emily nodded. “Maybe we should canvas surrounding houses?”

“Not a bad idea,” Rossi mused. “Maybe somebody saw something…or maybe somebody is actually someone.”

“I’ll go tell Morgan,” my boy said, turning to head for the car parked on the side of the road.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move in the upstairs window of the house directly across the street. I saw it a moment before everyone else; I was already sprinting towards Reid before the others had a chance to react.

Not him, no not him, I begged. I wasn’t even sure who I was begging. Please not him, please.

Spencer heard the others shout his name; my jaw was locked together in panic, unable to speak. I slammed into him hard, knocking him out of the way just in time.

I felt fire rip through my shoulder, I heard bullets ring out behind me. I didn't pay attention to any of it though.

Why is he crying? I thought my heart sinking into misery. Please don’t cry, my darling boy. I can’t stand it.

His hands were so warm when he cupped my face. These circumstances were different from the last time he held me like this, but my heart squeezed just the same.

“Why,” his voice was strangled. “Why would you do that?”

Blackness edged around my vision. I wanted to make some funny quip to try to make him smile, but I couldn’t draw in enough air. So, I settled for the simplest and truest thing I could say.

“Because I love you.”

-- Spencer’s POV –

In times when I felt overwhelmed, I always counted things. It was a sort of compulsion that started when I was a child. When my parents would fight, I’d count the number of specks in each tile on the kitchen floor. I’d count the number of seconds between each shout. When Tobias had me all those years ago, I counted the boards around the cabin.

I couldn’t focus on anything long enough to count now.

Derek was to my right; Emily was to my left. Hotch was across the room sitting with his head in his hands. Rossi stood near JJ, his arm around her.

It’s not right, I thought. None of this is right because she’s not here. She has to be here.

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to…how am I supposed to breathe without her?

“How long?” Morgan’s voice broke through the silence. I didn’t need to ask what he meant.

“37 days, 5 hours, 17 minutes, and 45 seconds. Since the case in Nebraska.”

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. Emily raised her hand to place it on my shoulder. Usually, their touches made my skin hurt. I couldn't handle the constant pressure and sometimes they would rub patterns on my skin meant to bring me comfort but all it did was set my teeth on edge. Nobody had ever understood that.

But she did. She knew how to touch me without me telling her. She always checked in with me during everything. I had never felt safer in my entire life than I did in her arms.

And she’s not here.

Penelope burst into the room a moment later. “What happened?” Her big eyes were swimming in tears behind her glasses. Morgan stood and went to her, wrapping her in his arms.

Bitterness rose up in my throat. What if when she was dying was my last chance to hold her? What if all this was my fault? Would she have jumped in front of a bullet for another team member? Logically, I knew she would have. That’s just who y/n is…but I couldn’t shake this feeling that this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t-

My thoughts went blank when another man walked into the room; he had on blue scrubs and a mask hanging around his neck. He’s the doctor. I shot to my feet, halfway across the room before the others even realized someone else had entered.

“You’re all here for Y/l/n?” he asked, his eyes darting around.

I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out; I was frozen. My heart was currently in a paradox. She was my very own Schrödinger’s cat. She was both alive and dead and somehow neither at the same time. I now understood that experiment better than I ever had before.

I couldn’t ask the doctor because what if she was gone? What if I got 37 days, 5 hours, 19 minutes, and 3 seconds to hold her…but I had to go the rest of my life without ever seeing her light again? I had told y/n she was sunshine…but she was so much more. She was the sun itself. Without her in this world, nothing would be there to hold my universe together, leaving everything to spin out into freezing darkness.

What if she’s already gone? What if I haven’t had her the past 24 minutes? 15 minutes?

Hotch spoke for me. “Yes, how is she?”

“The bullet nicked her brachial artery; she lost a lot of blood. Luck you had medics so close by. It was touch and go for a moment, but we were able to repair the damage. She should make a full recovery.”

I felt my entire universe shift; my legs were suddenly unable to hold me. I felt someone grab my shoulders when my knees hit the hard floor. My mind flashed with every moment we had had together. Her kind smiles, the way she cocked her head to the side when she was teasing me, the look on her face when she finally trusted me enough to let me be with her the way I had always wanted.

“Kid,” Rossi’s voice said, I only then realized he was who had grabbed me. “She’s gonna be okay. Y/n is gonna be fine.”

His voice was soft, I could barely hear it over the sound of someone sobbing. It took me a minute longer to realize the sobbing was coming from me.

Yes, she was going to be fine…but for how long? How long did I get her until she had to jump in front of another bullet to save me? How long did I get to have the sun before I did something to make it disappear? I could live in a world where she didn’t love me, but I couldn’t live in a world where she didn’t exist.

“Because I love you," she had said. She jumped in front of a bullet because she loved me. But did she even love me? Or did she just tell me what I needed to hear because she thought she was dying?

I finally understood why she was so afraid of love because I had never loved anything the way I loved her.

My body went cold when I realized what I had to do. Every possible future I imagined ended with her the way she was earlier today, bleeding out because she loved me. I couldn’t be responsible for putting her light out. She’d never forgive me. And none of that mattered if I got to live in a world where she was still breathing. Where I got to love her. Even if she didn’t love me back.

Rossi’s grip tightened around me. “Let’s go see your girl, Spencer.”

My voice was hollow as the gravity of everything fell down around me. “I-I don’t think I can.”

-- Reader POV –

The first thing I became aware of was how goddamn bright it was. My eyes started to flutter open and they immediately shut in a wince. The second was the pain.

“Oh, this is some bullshit,” I muttered, trying to pry my eyes open.

I heard several chuckles at my words. “There she is! Feisty as ever!”

That was Morgan. Why is Morgan here? Where is here? It all started coming back in flashes. The house…the unsub…the fires…the gun pointing out the window. Spencer!

My eyes finally opened all the way. I heard the beeping of machines and I smelt antiseptic. Once my vision came into focus, I saw my team filling the room. JJ was crying and holding Garcia. Derek and Emily were closest to me on either side. But…I didn’t see that curly mop of hair.

“What happened? Is Spencer all right?” My words were frantic as I tried to sit up.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Morgan’s hand pressed against my shoulder, keeping me still. “Reid is fine. And you need to rest.”

He’s fine. He’s fine. I kept repeating that over and over again in my mind. “What happened?” I asked, my throat was dry and scratchy.

“It was a trap,” Hotch said from the end of my bed. “Gordon and Sawyers were working together. We had profiled Gordon to be the dominant member if we were looking at a team, but it was Sawyers who called the shots. He just used Gordon’s rage for his own advantage. Apparently, Sawyers’ sister died in a murder investigation 2 years ago. He blamed the BAU because we were called in but the man he suspected had an alibi. Sawyers was in the house across the street…”

Right. There was a gun…and it was pointed at Spencer. “Did you get him?”

Hotch nodded. “Gordon is in custody. Sawyers is dead.”

“Good,” I mumbled. “If Spencer is okay, where is he?”

There was an awkward pause for a moment before anyone spoke. “Let me go get the Doctor. I’m sure they want to know you’re awake,” JJ said before quickly leaving the room.

“I think he just needs a minute, Kiddo,” Rossi said gently.

“Oh, and don’t think for one goddamn minute you’re gonna be able to weasel out of telling us about you and Reid.” Morgan looked positively giddy. “He said since Nebraska, y/n.” Prentiss shot him a glare, to which Morgan only shrugged.

I sighed, but then quickly realized how much that fucking hurt. “I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

An older man entered the room then. “Hello, Agent y/l/n. I’m Dr. Richardson. I’d like to check you over if I could? And your friends can leave the room.”

Emily brushed her hand over the top of my head. “We’ll be back.”

I had a repaired artery, gotten a transfusion, and somehow fractured a rib. Oh, and a new scar near my shoulder. The bullet was through and through, and scars were just scars.

None of that bothered me as much as my boy’s absence. The rest of the team had left hours ago. Garcia promised she’d be back bright and early and that she would be making a schedule of who was going to visit me each day and at what time. I didn’t bother trying to talk her out of it.

I had brought up Spencer a few times, I had asked for my phone to call him…but everyone had always changed the subject or tried to redirect my attention. After everything that had happened, him avoiding me now almost hurt as bad as the bullet wound.

There was a hesitant knock on the door that made my heart jump. I know that knock. Sure enough, the door pushed open to reveal the only person I wanted to see. His hair was messy like he’d been running his hands through it, the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, and he was in different clothes than he had had on Tuesday morning. But even though I was so happy to see him I just felt something…wrong.

“Hey Doc,” I said softly.

Spencer came to stand at the end of my hospital bed, his eyes flat, his hands gripping the plastic rails. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice was raspy and hollow.

“I’ve been better,” I joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

My boy just sighed. “That was really fucking stupid, y/n.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t going to let him shoot you.”

His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the bed. “So, you let him shoot you? How does that make any fucking sense, y/n?!”

My voice was small, “Because it wouldn’t be you that got hurt. Why are you being like this, Spence?”

He ran a hand over his face, licking his lips before he spoke. “I just feel bad about this because…you were right.”

“I’m right fairly often, Doc. You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“About my feelings,” he said his eyes were on me, but they weren’t focused. “You were right when you said that they were just a chemical reaction to what happened this weekend. You said they would pass, and you were right.”

I couldn’t breathe. I felt like all the air had been taken out of the room.

Spencer went on. “I’m sorry if I led you on, y/n. I enjoyed our time together, but it’s not something I’d want to pursue long term. I’m embarrassed of how I acted, especially since it gave you the wrong impression.”

“Oh.” My entire body went cold and I felt my heart drop.

“I also think we should end our personal relationship.”

I blinked back tears, he sounded so impersonal. “We can’t even be friends?”

His hands lifted from the bed, his arms crossing over his chest. “We weren’t friends before, y/n.”

I pulled both of my lips between my teeth, taking small breaths so my body wouldn’t hurt more than it needed to. “I appreciate the honesty, Doc. I really do.” I turned my head to the side, unable to look at him any longer. “But this is a weird fucking time to do it.”

“I know,” he said, his tone not changing. “But I think your judgment has been compromised. I don’t think we can have any sort of relationship when it makes you do something so reckless because you think…” He trailed off.

“Because I think what, Reid?” I spat out.

“Because you think I care about you more than I do.”

I scoffed, not caring about the pain. “I didn’t take a bullet for you because I thought you cared about me.” I did it because of how much I cared about you. “You’re a member of the team, I would have done the same for any of them.”

“Then maybe you should reevaluate your place in this team.”

I think it would have hurt less if he just punched me in the bullet wound “Thanks a whole fucking lot, Reid. I’ll do that.”

He dropped his arms and turned to walk out of my room. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n.”

His hand had just pulled the door open when I called out. “Reid…did I say anything? After I was shot?”

The man that used to be my darling boy turned to look at me, his face was unreadable. "Not that I heard, no." With that, he was gone. He just walked out of my room like he didn't rip me to shreds like he didn’t take my entire heart with him.

My heart jumped with hope when the door opened again, only to plummet when I saw it was just the nurse. “Are you alright, dear?” she asked, coming to fiddle with the machines that monitored my vitals. “Oh, my lord. You’re crying! Are you in a lot of pain?” she didn’t wait for an answer, she just started for the door. “I’ll get your next dose of pain meds, be right back.”

She could do that…but I don’t think this pain will ever go away.

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