#mild angst with a happy ending
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Audrey is in hospital, having been slightly blown up. Things are changing fast for her and Mr Farnon...
#siegfried x audrey#mild angst with a happy ending#chapter 2 by popular demand and/or misconception#this should be a satisfying conclusion#my fic#acgas 2020#all creatures great and small
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Could I request the Astral Express trio (you can choose Stelle or Caelus) with a reader (GN) who is also a member of the Express who is like an older sibling? Reprimanding them when they get hurt, or comforting them when they're upset?
No One is Alone
Summary: Life aboard the Astral Express isn't just about fighting enemies or exploring new worlds—it's also about looking out for each other. As the team's older sibling figure, you take it upon yourself to reprimand Dan Heng and Stelle after they return from a mission injured. Through scolding, comforting, and heartfelt conversations, you remind them that they're part of a team and don't have to face their struggles alone.
Tags: Astral Express Trio x Reader, Platonic, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Dynamics, GN!Reader, Protective!Reader, Team Bonding, Angst with a Happy Ending.
Warnings: Mentions of injuries (non-graphic), Mild guilt/self-blame themes, Emotional vulnerability and introspection.
The hum of the Astral Express filled the air, a comforting backdrop to life aboard the interstellar train. You sat in the lounge, scanning over a datapad while keeping half an ear tuned to the faint commotion from the infirmary. It was a sound you'd become all too familiar with since joining the crew.
Dan Heng and Stelle—recovering from yet another scrape they shouldn't have gotten into.
The infirmary door swished open, and March peeked out, her expression torn between amusement and sympathy. "They're ready for the scolding..." she chirped.
You sighed, setting your datapad aside. Rising to your feet, you felt the weight of your role—neither a fighter nor a strategist, but the de facto big sibling of this unconventional family.
The scene in the infirmary was almost comical. Stelle sat on one of the cots, a bandage around her upper arm, her usual unbothered expression firmly in place. Dan Heng stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest, looking stoic despite the gash on his shoulder that hadn't been there when the mission started.
"Care to explain?" you began, arms crossed and gaze level.
"It was just a minor miscalculation." Dan Heng replied calmly.
"A 'minor miscalculation' doesn't leave you bleeding, Dan Heng," you said pointedly, turning to Stelle. "And you—didn't I tell you to call for backup if things went south?"
Stelle gave a sheepish shrug. "I thought we could handle it."
"You thought wrong." You sighed, your tone softening as you crossed the room. Grabbing a chair, you sat between them, your expression gentler now. "I know you're both incredibly capable. But even the best make mistakes. You're part of a team—you don't have to shoulder everything alone."
Dan Heng's gaze flickered to the floor, and Stelle's shoulders slumped slightly.
"You don’t need to push yourself to the point of breaking to prove anything," you added, standing to place a reassuring hand on each of their shoulders. "We're in this together. If something happened to either of you, we’d all feel it. And you’d feel the same if it were March, right?"
Both nodded, though they didn’t meet your gaze.
"Good. Now, promise me you’ll call for help next time."
"Promise." Stelle said, a small smile tugging at her lips. Dan Heng gave a slight nod, his stoic mask cracking just enough for you to catch the faintest hint of guilt.
Later, in the privacy of the archive, you found Dan Heng surrounded by stacks of books. He looked up as you entered, his expression as composed as ever.
"You didn't just come here to read, did you?" you asked, pulling up a chair.
"...No," he admitted after a moment, his voice quiet. "I thought I could avoid putting others at risk by keeping things to myself. I didn’t think about how that might affect the team."
You smiled softly, resting a hand on his. "Dan Heng, you're not a burden. You're not just running from your past anymore—you’re building a future with all of us. And we need you to trust us enough to let us help."
He hesitated, then gave a small nod. "I'll try."
Later that evening, Stelle found you in the lounge, sitting with a warm drink. She plopped down beside you, her usual confidence dimmed by something you couldn’t quite place.
"You were right," she said, uncharacteristically subdued.
"About what?" you asked, setting your drink down.
"About asking for help." She stared at the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes. "I’m used to going it alone. But... it’s different with you guys. It’s like, I know you’ve got my back, and that’s scary because now I care. You know?"
You smiled, ruffling her hair like a younger sibling. "That’s not a bad thing, Stelle. Caring means you’re not just surviving anymore—you’re living."
She leaned into your side, her head on your shoulder. "Thanks, big sibling."
"Anytime," you said, wrapping an arm around her. "Just stop scaring me with the near-death experiences, okay?"
"I’ll try." she mumbled, and for now, that was enough.
(yonagi on X)
#x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#astral express trio#platonic relationships#found family#hurt/comfort#sibling dynamics#gender neutral reader#team bonding#angst with a happy ending#mentions of injuries (non-graphic)#mild guilt/self-blame themes#emotional vulnerability and introspection#dan heng honkai star rail#hsr stelle#hsr march 7th#dan heng x reader#stelle x reader#march x reader#dan heng x you#stelle#march 7th#trailblazer
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@steddieangstyaugust Day 1: Second Chance
Eddie had always pretended he was living life without any regrets.
After all that's why he was chasing an impossible dream of being a rockstar, it's why he jumped on tables and fought for his club, it's why he told his uncle about the boy he kissed when he showed up on his doorstep battered and bruised.
He thought he'd die one day without an ounce of regret. But laying in a young boy's arms, in the darkest depths of hell, choking on his own blood, all he could think of was what he'd have done differently.
He's not mad he didn't run, he'd do it all again to protect Dustin, to protect his home even when it's turned against him. He doesn't regret making Chrissy laugh in the woods rather than turning her away. No, he doesn't regret all that, he regrets everything in between.
Regrets running from the trailer, leaving his uncle to deal with the fall out. Regrets not apologising to Lucas, being mad about basketball seems so silly now. Regrets giving Dustin this last memory of him.
Most of all, he regrets Steve.
He doesn't regret selling him weed after the mall burnt down, or kissing him a month later. Doesn't regret bringing him to every show even if the crowd was small. Doesn't regret every smile, every touch.
He regrets not kissing him goodbye, when he knew he wouldn't survive the battle. He regrets that he'll be cold and gone before he gets back. He regrets that he didn't get to tell Steve he loves him, too scared, too afraid Steve would run like him.
He can hear Steve's voice in the distance, but it's so far away now. He regrets not staying a few seconds longer, he regrets that he won't get to stay.
.
..
...
He'd thought the afterlife would be warmer than this, especially if the town had been right and he got sent to hell. The air feels cold, the world too bright even with his eyes closed.
"Eddie?"
Ah, must be heaven, there's no sweeter sound than his personal angel.
Wait, no, Steve didn't die.
Eddie braves the light, blinking his eyes slowly open. The interior of a hospital room slowly comes into focus, and there he is, his Stevie, he's crying.
"Why are you crying, baby?" His voice is rough. That doesn't seem to stop the tears even as Steve chokes a sad laugh.
"I thought I'd lost you, I thought I wouldn't get to tell you I love you," he says, voice catching halfway through as he grips Eddie's hand.
"I was supposed to say it first, it was my dying wish, Stevie!"
Steve gives him a gentle flick, clearly not appreciating the joke.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I love you too, I'm sorry I almost didn't get to tell you."
"It's ok, Eds, you're here now."
And Eddie wasn't going to waste his second chance, he was going to spend every day telling Steve how much he loved him and he wouldn't regret another moment.
Welcome back to another month long event and this time it's my very own event!
#were back with another month challenge#and this time its my challenge!!#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steddieangstyaugust#we're starting very mild hehehe#angst with a happy ending
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Astarion x undying male reader (2)
I rewrote it! I like this one more than the other one, hopefully you all enjoy ver. 2 as well!
TW: angst, graphic(ish) depitctions, SPOILERS FOR ASTARION'S STORY
You and Astarion walk down the steps. The steps that are gonna decide the fate of him forevermore.
Who lives, who dies.
At the end of the stairs, Cazador starts his speech. The rehearsed words fall into crumbling deafening sentences, leaving you silent as Astarion speaks up for himself.
“You son of a bitch.” Astarion sneers and leaps towards starting the fight against his former master himself. You do not manage to grab him.
Before anyone can even register what’s happened, Astarion is sent to his spot. His spot, his place in the ritual, it glows and shimmers as if to mock and disturb you. Which it does.
Cazador stares at you, the contained rage flittering across his expression. Next thing you feel is his closeness to yourself, the heat running from your throat. His claws had dug and slashed and you feel the burning, red hot, blood draws down and in, suffocating and heating and dizzying. You fall to the floor, the liquid leaving you, leaves you feeling restless, but so fucking tired.
The rest of your party startle in for the fight ahead as you lay useless, suffocating on your own blood. The next thing you see is your own blood forming around you, your eyes blacking out. It never stops hurting.
And as you wake, your companions are struggling, fighting against the plentyfull of foes that you so cruelly left them fighting alone.
Your hand pushes your head off the floor first, no one has yet to notice the sudden life stuttering its way through your body. But the desperation never leaves your head. How long?! You scream, but no words leave you. Your mouth dry and parched, the words catching on the cut that is struck across your throat.
As you look up you realize that Cazador is at his last step. The last part, a mere handful of seconds left. You push yourself off the ground, your legs carry you faster than your newly living lungs can keep up with, but you catch him.
You catch Cazador as you leap towards the edge, a bone crushing grip settled around his ribs. You drag him to whatever pit of hell awaits under his sick idea of a ritualistic battleground that he had built to ascend.
To become great.
To take away Astarion.
The descent towards the floor of the pit goes by in seconds, but Cazador is scratching and pushing, biting and attempting to flee. You will not let him. Your keen ears hear his body connect with the ground a mere millisecond before yours does. A mere fraction of a moment, that you use to hope. Hope that this stopped the ritual, that Astarion is safe.
And once more everything is black.
You cannot help but wonder if they tried to pay Withers. To bring you back. What he said, what they discussed, would they try to get your body? Put themselves on the line for your unanimated corpse?
You were perhaps nothing more than a splotch on the ground, but you still thought. You were thinking. You are thinking.
Your eyes open with the same voracity as the breath you take in. No longer a splotch, no longer a pile of mess. You were in your own body again. In your own body, with heat. Heat pouring from your beating heart, pumping the blood and startling your limbs to reset. Your tears start and you sob. You wretch every gasp of air through your body as you lay at the bottom of a seemingly endless pit.
And as your brittle bones register the muscles surrounding them, they realize they are not so brittle after all. They are living. Moving, constricting, cramping, releasing. They tense as you push yourself to sit up.
Seemingly endless vastness peers down at you from the great beyond that you see when you look up. Climb, no think, just climb, no look around. Your head and heart scream, striking your ears with a piercing pitch.
You look around first, no one just makes a ditch. It has to have a purpose. Your aching legs agree to push you up, the all too familiar burn spreading through your body. The burn that you have labeled ‘The experience of one more life’, the feeling of living. Again.
You trudge insecurely across the unstable floor that you cannot see in the complete darkness. Your eyes only adjust enough to see your own nose, you’ve learnt that your eyes wake up last, probably due to the separate immune system awakening to the…situation?
You put your hands up, stumbling into a wall, following it, finding an arch. A doorway, probably. And stairs. Stairs. Inside the doorway. You crawl up, making sure that one hand follows the edge, your other leads you. Slowly.
As you get nearer to the top, your body no longer burns from life, but from exhaustion. Step by step, you near the dim light of the ritualistic battlefield that you fell from. Dead silence.
Your heart once more burns as you realize that you left your companions to fight, you forced a hand that Cazador couldn’t have dealt. You never even felt what should have been Cazador’s splotch on the ground that you awoke on, nothing sticky, icky or gooey. The light finally shows you your hands, which are covered in nothing but dust and dirt of some kind.
The far top reveals that you just climbed a tower, the bridge that would have led directly to Cazador’s ritual is completely broken. But your companions might need help, they might not have lived like you always seemed to. They might need you to pay Withers. Bring them back. Your legs brace themselves for the jump towards the center. You should have jumped further, you realize, as your chest collides with jutted bricks, your breath cascaded out as your nails dig into any crevice they can get hold of. A single slip and you start over.
You refuse. You clamber up the edge, sitting right behind what would have been Astarion’s circle. No ashes, no bones, he must be alright. A quick glance tells you that no bones here are mildly human. You push your legs forward once more, stand up. Walk over past Cazador’s empty tomb, his distraught body slowly succumbing to the laws of nature. But not gone.
You stomp over his skull, then you pause, then you repeat. Again and again and again, the heat of rage spreads through you. Fuck this place, fuck Cazador, fuck this ritual.
Your head thumps as you look towards the stairs leading up, leading out. The steps are tenfold worse than from the tower, the adrenaline gone, the rush faded, even the anger disappeared as quickly as it entered.
The top of the stairs is adorned by voices, whispers almost. Then only the silence broken by your tired steps on the staircase. You practically drag your body the rest of the way. Another doorway, leading to…people.
People with swords pointed at you, bows drawn, daggers at the ready. The monster hunters stand ready, their weapons drawn. The center of them, just in front of the elevator that leads out. Astarion. Beautiful, kind, Astarion.
Astarion who pushes past the hunters in front of him, Astarion who runs to you, Astarion who leaps into your arms. Your legs barely brace for his body's impact, before they give in and the two of you collapse onto your knees, the hard floor doing nothing for the pain that shoots through your body.
Gorgeous Astarion who sobs into your embrace as you hold him. The tears stream down your own cheeks, the command for everyone to stand down is given. Astarion pulls away, peels himself away from you. The lack of him makes you feel cold.
“You-” Astarion sneers, “I saw you! What did y-”
He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence as the tears cascade over his angry expression and he sends a flurry of weak punches into you. A sob wracks through his body.
“Cazador knew you! You know he knew you.”
You realize Astarion’s eyes are not filled with anger directed at you, but himself. He remembers you. He remembers handing you to Cazador.
“I forgive you, Astarion. I would throw myself off an edge to save you a million times over.” You mutter back, your hands finding the sides of his face. You bring his face to yours, plant a sweet kiss on him. You pull away and plant Astarion’s forehead against you. His hands hold yours, still on his face.
“You’re that invulnerable boy. I’m so sorry.” Astarion mutters through more gasps and sobs.
“I forgive you, I forgave you a long time ago, before ever meeting you again. You’re my everything, Astarion. I wouldn’t change a thing about the past if it meant I would never meet you again.” You tumble out, the saltiness of your tears entering your mouth as your words stumble.
You fall into each other's embrace again, a silent promise. Truth goes both ways. But not now. Now is reserved for this.
#Astarion#baldur's gate 3#astarion x male reader#astarion x male tav#x male reader#bg3#bg3 tav#bg3 astarion#male reader#he him his#bg3 x male reader#vampire#baldurs gate 3#mild bg3 spoilers#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x male#angst with a happy ending#angst#bg3 spoilers#astarion#tav
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Crossroads
So I started writing this last night thinking it would be a short little drabble. At over 2k words, it is NOT a drabble. It is a full on fic at this point.
Enjoy!
*
Steve was at a crossroads.
To his right was his mother, calling him sweetly to come back inside so they can talk. Work something out. To stay with her and his father.
On his left was Eddie. Dear sweet Eddie calling out from him to run away with him. To get in his van and chase the sun for as long as they could and maybe find a new place to rest their heads. For a moment or to throw roots.
He could see the two paths before him as easily as he could see them standing before him.
If he went with his mom, they would convince him to give up his friends, Eddie. Well, they'd let him keep the Wheeler siblings and Dustin. But everyone else would have to go. Byers, Max, and Eddie because they were poor. The Sinclairs because they were black. He doubted they would keep him from El, considering who her adopted father was, but it would be a near thing. Robin would have to go. She would be a little too queer for their liking.
He would be forced to work for his dad where the employees would hate him and the managers would resent him. He would marry some dull woman picked out by them and have as many kids as possible.
Pretty much the life he thought he would have with Nancy their junior year of high school. He would be comfortable, well taken care of and absolutely fucking miserable. For the rest of his life.
If he went with Eddie...there would no certainty at all. It would very likely be hard. They wouldn't have a lot of money (the government hush money could only take them so far after all). It would a life on the road as Eddie and his band traveled the country looking for fame and fortune. It would be rough. Five boys in cramped quarters.
It's possible the band wouldn't even survive two days let alone two years.
But Eddie would love him. He would be loved. Not just by Eddie, but Robin and the kids. Nancy and Jonathan and even funky little Argyle. As their friends spread out over the country, Steve and Eddie would visit them all. And maybe someday they'd find their place. Throw down roots maybe even grow a family of their own.
Steve took a deep breath and started walking.
*
Eddie wanted to call out to Steve, beg him to stay. To give him a chance to be something. Together.
He watched in horror and disappointment as Steve took one step and then another toward his mother. He couldn’t look away as Steve reached her.
Steve’s name caught in his throat. Would she at least let them say their goodbyes or would the last memory Eddie had of the love of his life would be his back as he walked back into the house with his mother?
Steve kissed his mother’s forehead and then suddenly he was running.
Eddie barely had time to open his arms before Steve had filled them.
Eddie opened his mouth to ask, but Steve kissed him fiercely. “Come on Eds, let’s go.”
He pulled back and looked Steve in the eye. “You coming with me, darlin’?”
Steve nodded. He looked back at his mother and then at Eddie. “It’s for the best, I think.”
Eddie knew he was right. Knew it was the best thing for everyone. But he still couldn’t believe it.
“All right, baby,” he finally said after a moment of taking it all in. “Let’s go find that horizon, shall we?”
Steve grinned. “Hell yeah!” He swung into the passenger side of Eddie’s van and Eddie hopped into the driver’s side.
They had sold the BMW for extra cash as the van would be better suited for traveling cross-country in. It had been put in his name a long time ago and it was the last connection to his parents.
Steve kissed Eddie on the cheek.
Eddie laughed. “What was that for, sweetheart?”
“For luck!”
“You my princess, baby?”
Steve laughed too. “The van is in much better shape then Millennium Falcon, sunshine.”
Eddie cackled as he pulled out of the driveway. He was going to start a life with the boy of his dreams. Life really couldn’t be sweeter.
*
When Maureen Harrington saw her Steven start walking towards her, she knew.
She had lost him. Maybe she never had him. He was determined in a way she had never seen before. He was resolved.
“I have to go,” he whispered as though the answer was pulled from him.
She nodded, tears forming on her lashes. “I understand.”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out a ring. She looked at it and her heart sank.
“No, Steven,” she murmured. “Your grandfather gave that to you.”
He pressed it into her hand. “I know, but think of it as my promise to come back. To see you. That I’m not giving up on you, I’m just choosing my own path instead of the one you and Dad wanted for me.”
Maureen clasped it tight her perfectly manicured hands to her chest. “I love you.”
He nodded and kissed her forehead goodbye.
She watched misty-eyed as he ran to his boyfriend, tears streaming down her face. She stood in that driveway until they were both out of sight.
She wiped her eyes and went back inside.
“Where’s that wastrel son of yours?” Clint growled.
“Saying goodbye,” she lied.
“Good.”
He turned on his heel and then said over his shoulder. “I want him in office the second he comes in, you hear me.”
She nodded knowing that he would be angry with her later. But she also knew that he would blame Edward Munson and not her for Steven not staying.
Maureen paused. She did feel a little guilty about that, but it was unavoidable. She slipped into the kitchen. The one room Clint would never enter willingly and sat down next to the phone.
She had work to do.
*
Wayne had just settled in for the night when his phone rang. He heaved a sigh and got wearily to his feet. The government had paid a hefty sum for the witch hunt of his nephew and an even tidier sum for keeping quiet about the monsters, which meant he wouldn’t have to work another day in his life.
But he still got a nice little job down at the local plant nursery watering the plants a couple times a week for something to do. He had just gotten home from that when the phone rang.
“Hello?” he greeted.
“Hello,” greeted the warm female voice. “I’m looking for an Edward Munson, is he there?”
Wayne sighed again. “May I ask what this is regarding?”
“Of course,” she said brightly. “He applied with us a couple weeks ago and I was just getting back with him.”
“Ya just missed him,” he said. “He went on a vacation and won’t be back for a few days.” Weeks, really. But he didn’t want to scare her off in case she actually had a job for him.
“That is unfortunate,” she said softly. “I will hold on to his application of course, but I can’t guarantee the job will be there when he returns.”
Wayne sighed a third time. He knew it had been too much to ask, but it had been worth a shot.
“I appreciate you thinking of him,” he said.
“Of course, you have a good day.”
He cursed his nephew’s luck again. Just as things were starting to look up for him, he missed getting a job by mere hours.
That was the last he thought about that conversation for a few days until a large manila envelope came for Eddie and Steve care of him. The damn thing even read: Steven Harrington and Edward Munson, C/O Wayne Munson.
The boys had gave him permission to open anything that might come from the government or the kids in case it was urgent, but he wasn’t sure about this.
Thankfully he was save from something like indecision when his phone rang.
“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie cried cheerfully. “You’ll never guess where we are!”
“Disneyland?” Wayne guessed with a huff of laughter.
“Aww...you guessed,” Eddie pouted.
“A letter came for you and Steve,” he said. “You two want me to open it?”
He heard whispering and then Eddie came back. “Steve says go ahead.”
Wayne opened the envelope and as he read the contents, he put his hand over his mouth as tears streamed down his face. It took a couple of tries, clearing his throat before he said, “It’s from your mom, Steve.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a bunch of paperwork transferring your joint bank account with your parents to one with Eddie,” Wayne explained. “As well as your information about your trust fund.”
“Oh.” Steve’s voice is breathless. “God. I assumed that they nixed that when I failed to get into college. That’s what it was supposed to be for after all.”
“Not according to the documents your mom sent over,” Wayne explained. “It was supposed to be given to you under one of three circumstances. Getting into college–”
Steve scoffed. “There went that one.”
“Getting married,” Wayne said.
Again Steve scoffed. “Would explain why they weren’t a big hurry for me to get hitched.”
Eddie and Wayne both chuckled in stereo causing Steve to laugh at how similar they were.
“Or when you turned twenty-one,” Wayne finished. “Which means next year the money is yours.”
“How much money could there be?” Eddie asked with a snort.
“By the time Steve gets it, at current interest rates?” Wayne said. “A little over a million dollars.”
“What?” Steve asked, his heart in his throat.
“Yup,” Wayne said. “And according to the bank statements of the new account she set up for the two of you, it has about three hundred thousand in it.”
“How?” Steve stammered.
“Well, according the statements of your previous account that she also sent along,” Wayne said ruffling through the pages, “there were deposits of five hundred dollars a month since you were born. As well as your checks from your jobs; the community center, the mall and of course Family Video.”
“Okay,” Steve muttered darkly, “but that only makes up for about a third of what you said was in there.”
“Apparently your first payment for stopping the apocalypse was put into this account when you were under the age of eighteen.”
Eddie swore. “And they didn’t fucking tell you?”
Wayne hummed. “Looks like there were some large withdrawals at first, but they were put back in only a couple months later.”
Steve scoffed. “Probably my dad and my mom making him put it back.”
“I agree,” Wayne said. “That makes the most sense. So if we add what you got from the government for your subsequent apocalypses, you boys will never have to work a day in your lives unless you wanted to.”
“Holy shit, baby,” Eddie cooed. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” Steve said. “It’s all unbelievable.”
Wayne nodded even though they couldn’t see him. “She also lists a couple of good financial advisors. I’ll give them a call and find one that fits, but you boys are free to do whatever the hell you want now.”
“Thank you, Wayne,” Steve murmured.
“Thank your mom, Stevie,” he mumbled. “She’s the one that did everything.”
Steve let out a shuddering breath. “I will. I promise.”
*
Steve slid down in the cramped little phone booth in shock. They had only meant to tell Wayne that they had made it California and that they were having a good time. He sure as hell wasn’t expect to have his life completely upended.
It was a good kind of unending. There was no doubt about that. But when he made the choice to be with Eddie, he made in spite of money not for money.
Eddie held out his hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go make some noise in the happiest place on earth.”
Steve laughed. “Yeah. I can’t wait!”
As they walked through park slurping on sodas and laughing, Steve knew he had made the right choice.
Because really, falling in love with Eddie was the easiest thing he’d ever done.
*
Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @redfreckledwolf @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @itsall-taken @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @vecnuthy
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A KNIGHT'S CONSOLATION
a/n: thinking about argenti's s/o consoling him whenever he wonders if spreading idrila's word is pointless and if his faith goes unheard. pairing: argenti x gender non-specified reader warnings: no particular warnings. maybe a bit of information about the knights of beauty. not proofread. category: comfort/mild angst.
Argenti was a typically well-mannered man, with looks so stunning one would think he's the very image of beauty. Fitting, for being a Knight of Beauty, I suppose.
Candid, devout, and warm-hearted were words people often described him as. He bore no ill intent, and although a little exaggerated at times when he directed himself, it was clear he only meant well.
After all, what kind of Knight would he be if he didn't spread Idrila's good word?
Alas, not everyone returns the kindness he offers. And a flower, as beautiful as every, withers like any other if not taken care of.
The kind knight is amicable, but not delusional. He knows well that she whom he follows is well most likely dead — not missing.
This objective of the Knights of Beauty to find their vanished Aeon was starting to seem more like wishful thinking than an accomplishable feat.
And when one's testimony of The Beauty is rejected more often than not, it's easy to grow frustrated — so when your lover strolls with you in the garden with mildly furrowed brows, you can tell the lack of appreciation for his beliefs is starting to get to him.
You take his armored hand in yours, guiding him to a section surrounded by flowers and grass, as you both slowly sit down in between nature's glory.
Slowly beginning to pick apart a few flowers and tying them around each other, you speak softly.
"What is it that bothers you?"
A simple question, but it does bring the knight's attention back to you. He musters a smile, a quiet chuckle leaving through his lips that reverberates through his chest as he gazes at you.
"Dearest, and here I believed that this was meant to soothe us?"
His words are teasing, and well — elaborate, as always, yet, you can tell he's attempting to shift the subject just slightly. Subtly.
But you know better than to ignore when Argenti begins to show signs of distress. So you pry further.
"It is — and I know something is occupying your mind."
And as his breath catches, his emerald hues flicking towards the sky briefly before glancing back at you, a wry smile tugs at his lips — you have him.
And well, it can't hurt to tell you, now can it?
"I still haven't found her."
Those're the first words he speaks. He pauses, before continuing, just a hint of melancholy present in his usually warm gaze.
"And not many are willing to spare a glance at her radiance."
A bit of a complex statement at first, but you're able to decipher quickly enough what he means by his words. His Aeon remains unfound, dead, and any attempt to garner faith for The Beauty has by now been almost but completely futile.
You continue making a wreath out of the flowers, as you hum quietly in response. You know spreading The Beauty's word can for him be, whilst certainly a blessing, also a burden.
"Not many are able to withstand her radiance," You reply in turn, beginning to lift your gaze to meet Argenti's eyes.
"The human mind was not made to comprehend the divine," You continue, finishing the wreath of flowers as you sit beside him, hugging your knees.
"It's normal for a mortal to not believe what cannot be seen," You say to him, not minding his silence as he gazes at you with an expression that slowly turns into a half-hearted, amused, but certainly endearing smile.
"That is very consoling, my love, but.." He chuckles, his lips forming a more genuine smile that has a hint of hurt, not intended to be hidden. "It doesn't make it any less exasperating."
And he is right — even if your words provided a soothing message to his heart, his mind yet remains uneasy. You gaze at him, contemplating his words, and you sigh quietly, as your head leans on his right shoulder.
"There are things that'll remain with uncertainty, Argenti," You state, gazing at the setting sun, the sky slowly shifting into a faded dusk. "Faith cannot be demanded of instantly — it must come of the soul."
Your hand finds his, gently squeezing it, and he still feels a miniscule chill sent through his way with an accompanied warmth from the palm of your hand, despite the armor that separates him from your touch.
"Even if you don't live to see her light once more .." you speak, feeling his attentive gaze fixed on you. You pause, trying to find the right words, before you smile faintly, finishing your statement.
"I can say for certain — the Path you treaded will leave Traces, and I'm sure that she will find a way into mankind's hearts as she did once before."
#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#mild angst#angst#slight angst#angst with a happy ending#comfort#argenti#argenti x reader#hsr x gender neutral reader#gender non specified#argenti hsr#hsr argenti#argenti hsr x reader#knights of beauty#clear.sky#writing#idrila#the beauty#honkai: star rail#hsr x reader argenti#argenti x reader honkai star rail#gender neutral reader
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Tradewinds Launch - A Fae Tales Novel - Jan 31st
FULL NOVEL RELEASE on JANUARY 31st - EXCLUSIVE to REAM & PATREON ONLY
In the dangerous, ethereal realm of the fae, alliances between the Seelie and Unseelie fae merchants are few. Some say impossible. Matan, a Seelie fae and peacock pheasant shifter with a talent for trade, must keep his Seelie alignment a secret as he embarks on a perilous journey to gather wealth and save a loved one from a terrible curse. He joins an Unseelie merchant caravan of fae who would surely eat him if they learned of his alignment. The enigmatic Udir, a paranoid Unseelie master of poisons and bearded vulture shifter, discovers Matan’s secret and threatens to blackmail him in exchange for vile favours. But Udir’s bravado and bluster hides a painful past and Matan isn’t as innocent or as naïve as he seems. Amid bustling markets, savvy clients, and travelling to new lands Matan has never seen before, Tradewinds is a story of love, found family, trust, betrayal, and the healing that can grow in the shadows of the vibrant, perilous southern fae lands.
Foxhall @ Ream (available on the Gary+Efnisien tiers or higher) Foxhall @ Patreon (available on the Gary+Efnisien tiers of higher)
#tradewinds#pia foxhall#fae tales#fae tales verse#merchantverse#original work#original story#romantic fantasy#epic fantasy#secondary world fantasy#hurt/comfort#like mild angst with a happy ending#it's what i would say lighter than my normal stuff#sort of? dsakfjdsa#it's more 'wildness within' vibes but with no OT3#there will be excerpts and more coming over the next two weeks#or there should be i need to organise that lmao#but anyway now the announcement post has been made!
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Let me kiss you in the rain (Hensper)
AO3 link / CW: mild injury and brief mention of blood
It was 3am while Captain Man and Kid Danger were out fighting a criminal on the streets of Swellview. Rain was pouring down, striking against the two heroes as they attempted to back the criminal into a corner. What had started out as a petty theft had now turned into a fully fledged battle, the skills of the criminal having taken the duo by surprise.
By the end of the fight they had to take a moment to recollect themselves, Captain Man being out of breath from the unexpected intensity and Kid Danger analysing the injuries he had sustained. While Ray had trained him exceptionally well to handle a fight he was still just a kid and therefore his safety wasn't always completely guaranteed, regardless of his hypermotility. This criminal had managed to get some solid hits in, the most noticeable being the bruise forming on his cheek and the blood trickling from his nose.
“You doing okay kid?” Ray asked, looking over to Henry, who was slouching against a wall. “Yeah, I just need a moment. He really caught us off guard” Henry winced as he gently touched his nose, blood appearing on his glove and being washed away by the rain almost immediately.
“Tell me about it, that man could pack a punch” Ray placed his hands on his hips and looked over to where the criminal was being taken to jail by the cops.
“Are you sure you don't need any help? Looks like he got you pretty good” Ray’s eyebrows furrowed, paying attention to Henry’s visible injuries. Henry pushed himself off the wall and moved over to Ray. Henry shrugged. “I’m sure. It's nothing a couple painkillers and ice packs won’t fix.”
“If you’re sure. Make sure to wrap up warm tonight, don’t want you catching a cold and having to miss work” Henry gave a light laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it, anyways I've got to head off home. See you tomorrow?” Henry started walking off, tuning his head back over his shoulder to look at Ray.
“Bright and early, Kid” Ray gave a small wave before heading off towards the Man Cave.
Henry moved into an alley to detransform, making sure no one was following him. Luckily flights in the middle of the night didn’t tend to garner public interest outside of the occasional civilian poking their heads out the door or watching from their windows. After cautiously exiting the alley Henry started his walk home. As he began walking his other injuries started to become more apparent, the adrenaline from the fight starting to wear off. He found himself having to limp slightly as he moved, due to what he assumed was most likely a twisted ankle. Dodging attacks isn't as easy as you’d think, especially in the rain.
As he approached the road he lived on he spotted another figure waiting by his porch. Squinting his eyes he managed to make the figure out to be Jasper. Confused, Henry walked up to his drive as Jasper rushed towards him, not caring about the rain that was drenching him.
“Hen are you okay? I saw the fight online and got worried” Jasper had an air of concern that was immediately apparent to Henry. Not wanting to worry his friend he waved his hand up “ I’m fine Jasp don't worry. Just a couple bruises that I’m sure will fade quickly.” This only made Jasper more concerned as he gently reached his hand up to Henry’s face, cupping his cheek and touching under his nose with his thumb. Henry winced as Jasper’s thumb touched his nose. Jasper's eyes glossed with concern as he pulled his thumb away.
“This,” Jasper held up his thumb, which was covered in blood, “isn't fine Henry and you know it.” Henry shrunk back slightly with guilt. He knew his job made his best friend concerned, especially with him not being indestructible like Ray. He always tried to make sure Jasper didn’t have to worry about his safety but he was always quick to notice when Henry was trying to hide injuries.
“It’s just a little bit of blood, it will dry up quickly I’m sure” Henry replied, pushing his hair out of his face, rain pushing his quiff into his eyes.
“Just a bit of blood? Henry I saw the way you winced it's not just a bit of blood. And don't think I missed the way you were limping down the block. You need to stop hiding how you’re feeling from me Hen” Jasper said, tears welling up in his eyes, visible despite the rain drenching them.
“I don’t want to worry you Jasp, I always end up being okay and I'm sure this time will be no different” Henry replied, trying to sound confident in an attempt to calm his friend down.
“Well what if you aren't Henry! What if you get hurt and that's it. No more Kid Danger, no more Henry Hart!” Jasper almost screamed, not caring who heard them. “You aren’t invincible so stop acting like it!” Jasper was sobbing at this point, the dam of emotions having burst with Henry's repeated denial.
“I have a job to do Jasper! I swore an oath to help Captain Man defend this city and if I get hurt in the process so be it! I can’t hide away during a fight because I may get injured!” Henry’s volume was now matching Jaspers, tears appearing in his own eyes.
“I don't want to lose you!” Jasper screamed, tears cascading down his cheeks, eyes filled with anger but more prominently, worry. Jasper took a deep breath and looked up at Henry.
“I love you Henry. You mean the absolute world to me and if I don’t want to live in a future without you by my side.” Tears were still falling from Jasper's eyes, the anger having dissipated, being replaced by a look of undeniable love.
Henry stopped and stared at Jasper, shock making itself present on his face as he processed what his best friend just admitted. Jasper… loved him? He knew the two of them were close, they were best friends, but never had Jasper said anything about love. He took a moment to think about his own feelings. He thought back to all the times he and Jasper had hung out as his stomach filled with butterflies. Henry had never noticed this feeling before, not being something he had ever thought about. Now that he was paying attention to it, his own feelings became a lot more clear.
Without warning Henry jumped forward and captured Jasper's lips with his own. This took Jasper by surprise but he quickly melted into the kiss. The two boys pulled each other closer, embracing in a tight hug as the kiss continued. It felt as if the world had stopped around them. Nothing else mattered at that moment. It was as if they had placed the final piece in a puzzle they didn’t know they were building. The kiss continued until Henry slowly pulled back, making eye contact with Jasper.
“You mean the absolute world to me Jasper, I’m so sorry I've caused you to worry so much, I guess I don’t think about my own safety in the heat of the moment.” Henry rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“Oh I can tell Hen. Even if you did I would still be worrying about you” Jasper smiled at Henry, who was quick to reciprocate. They took a moment to just stare at each other, not wanting the moment to end, until thunder could be heard in the distance. This caused both boys to jump back into reality.
“We should probably head inside, I am absolutely soaked” Henry said, gesturing at himself. Jasper laughed and agreed as Henry grabbed his hand and directed them both to the back of the house so they could climb through Henry's window. It was a fair struggle on Henry’s part due to his ankle but Jasper was there to lend a helping hand, assisting the boy in climbing up the branches to the second floor of the Hart House. Jasper followed shortly after and closed the window behind him.
Henry dramatically fell onto his bed with a sigh, letting himself melt into the bedding despite still being soaking wet.
“We should probably dry off and check those injuries of yours.” Jasper said looking pointedly at Henry who was close to falling asleep.
“But I'm tired, Jasp, can’t it wait till tomorrow? Just come lay down with me” Henry whined, reaching his hand out to Japer who was standing to the side of the bed, eyebrows raised.
“I’m not risking anything Hen so stop being a baby and let me have a look” Henry sighed and slowly sat up on the bed.
Jasper checked him over and made sure none of the injuries were serious before grabbing them both towels and spare clothes. Even though they were at Henry's, Jasper already had a drawer of clothes there. He spent the night often enough that it just made sense for him to leave some clothes at Henry’s for when they wanted to do an impromptu sleepover. Once the two were dry and changed they went to lie down on Henry’s bed, Henry pulling Jasper into a hug.
“I love you Jasp” Henry leant his head on Jasper's shoulder and closed his eyes. Jasper smiled and pulled him in closer.
“I love you too Hen”
#henry danger#henry hart#kid danger#jasper dunlop#ray manchester#captain man#hensper#fanfiction#oneshot#angst with a happy ending#brief mention of blood#mild injury#LOOK WHO IT IS#LIKE 5 YEARS LATER#WOOOO
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ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ
"ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴜᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ᴡᴀʏ."
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ/ᴛᴀɢꜱ: ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ (??), ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ, ʏᴊᴀ ᴡᴀʟʟʏ!! <3
a/n: request are open! I'll make a part two if i feel like it
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Wally isn't desperate for a relationship, at least I don't think he is. Sure he flirts with every girl he finds attractive but he's just doing it out of boredom. Right?
I was sitting on my couch doing my missing homework. It's not like I don't understand school, it's just I don't have time to do it. Ever since I became a hero, I hardly had time for any non-hero things. I was on the verge of falling asleep until I heard knocking on my door. I got up , headed over to the door, and opened it halfway. A boy with short fluffy red hair greeted me. I fully opened the door and gestured that he was welcomed in. He walked in and sat down next to my homework. I closed the door and sat next to him. I was confused, lost even. I had no idea why he came in here without a word but it had to be important.
"Are you gonna talk or not, Wally?" I asked, crossing my arms. He looks around the room and gets all fidgety. "Earth to Wally? Hello?!" He snapped out of his trance and turned to me.
"Sorry," He stares at my homework, grinning at the not-so-smart excuse he cooked up. "Is the math homework due last week? Geez babe, you really have to learn how to turn in things on time" He gave me "those" eyes again. Those innocent eyes. He's up to something, I just know it.
"Don't start. Why are you here Wally? What do you want-NEED from me?" I got up and crossed my arms. Wally stood up and placed his hands on my shoulders.
"Look-I just really want to talk right now. It's an emergency," he spoke to me in this tone. As if he knows something will happen. Something bad. "Please don't hate me after this," He mumbled to himself. He took a deep breath and asked. "You know how I flirt with people, right?" I nodded. "And you know I can't help it, it's my charm" he chuckles and I smile.
"But?" I asked. He sat down and let out a big sigh.
"But I don't expect an actual relationship with them...So to get to my point. There's this person. This really they are the most attractive, smart-ish, and warmhearted person I ever met. I just can't tell them how I feel. Their answer will affect me mentally AND maybe even physically." Wally was almost at his limit. I could tell that he really liked this person.
"Wally. You know you can talk to me about anything." the soothing sound of my tone assured him that he could tell me anything.
"I don't know how to tell you this but for a long time I wanted to be more than friends," Wally said. He stared at me with a soft smile. I wanted to feel the same. I really did.
"I-Wally. I will always be there for you. I care about- and love you so much...I just can't love the way you love me. I don't want to hurt your feelings but I'm just gonna hurt you more if I pretend to like you that way." His smile turned into a face of regret. His eyes looked like they lost the spark in them. He turned away but I saw a tear come out from his eyes.
“Wally I’m so sorry. Please let me help you!” I screamed. I couldn’t stand him like this. I tried reaching out but he shoved my hand out of the way.
“Listen. You are the most wonderful person ever. Swear on it. But I just want a break, okay?” he muttered between his tears. Tears flooded my eyes. This heart aching feeling made me feel unsteady. I’m better than this. I have to be. Before Wally stepped foot out the door, I needed him to know that I cared about him.
“Wally, I care about you so much and I’m sorry that can’t give you the love you deserve. I’m sorry that I will never be the one for you. But you deserve better than me. You can talk to me and I’ll be here, waiting for you, always.” He chuckles softly,
“Right back att’ya, babe.”
#ambcassspeaks#ambcasswrites#wally west#wally west x you#jaime reyes#wally west x reader#wally west fanfic#wally west angst#angst with no happy ending#kid flash x reader#kid flash#mild angst#angst#xolo mariduena#angst fic#fluff if you squint your eyes#dc x reader#dc angst#dc comics#heaadcanons#oneshot#angstshot#fluff#young justice#wally west young justice#female reader#gn reader#male reader#x female reader#reader is gn
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Lance looks through the binoculars again and finds Keith at the same time Adam calls Keith’s name and points at where Lance is standing. The other boy glances up, caught between a laugh from watching Pidge and Hunk write a lewd message in the sand. He flips him off and Lance’s hand-painted skull grins back at him. Keith’s cheeks are pink from the chill, his eyes bright and mischievous as the wind catches on the edges of his hair.
Lance mechanically waves back as he pulls away from the binoculars, Keith becoming a tiny figure against the sand as a blush begins to stain Lance’s cheeks. He hikes the collar of his jacket up, glancing furtively back at Shiro and then down at the shore below.
Oh.
Fuck.
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this was an excerpt from chapter 10 of my fic! here's some more info if ur interested:
title: looking out for you
platform: ao3 only
rating: t
genre(s): slice of life college au
ships: Keith Kogane/Lance McClain, Adam/Shiro
words/chapters: 187k/18 chapters
status: completed
summary/elevator pitch: wholesome queer vibes and healthy communication a la voltron. found family shenanigans include: paintball, halloween parties, laundromat trips, beach episode, family dinners, video game tournaments, awkward confessions, grocery shopping, and some good old angst and character development. also, lance may or may not get possessed by a ghost but it's not pidge's fault.
i was reminiscing on this fic and decided to just promo it bc why not? drop me a comment/kudos if u check it out and like it!
for anyone who has already read it or is planning on reading it, i've done faqs between the three acts. i recently updated my faq here for act iii if anyone is interested (i finally got around to putting in some more details!)
#ao3 fanfic#voltron legendary defender#college au#klance#found family#friends to lovers#keith kogane#lance mcclain#takashi shirogane#hunk garrett#pidge holt#adam voltron#allura vld#slow burn#character study#mild to moderate angst?#happy ending tho#shenanigans#adashi#broganes#in which the author projects#a lot#my friend asked me if this fic is a replacement for therapy and ya know who's to say
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Admissions
Hey guys I'm back lol. Finding out about the new renegades book inspired me to write for the fandom again! I decided to write a little fic about Adrian and Nova getting back together a few months after the Supernova assuming that they broke up to deal with their mental health and such. This ended up being a lot longer than I intended and I did a shitty job proofreading but I love you all and hope you enjoy it anyway. It's also on ao3 as usual!
PS. I hate writing combat scenes so I simply didn't even though it may have been necessary sorry lol
Adrian watched as Nova examined the broken window. They were out on a call for a home invasion but considering this was the only thing amiss Adrian was beginning to wonder if this was just a prank by some neighborhood kids and not a robbery as the elderly woman inside was so convinced.
Most of Adrian’s team came back to work only a few weeks after the Supernova but Nova had, understandably, taken a bit longer. This was only her first week back on patrols after four months and Adrian would be lying if he said it wasn’t hell. He wouldn’t exactly call their breakup messy but it wasn’t exactly easy, necessary and mutual, but definitely not easy.
Nova was a very valuable asset to their team but she was also extremely strong willed and after a few months without her they all needed to remember how to work together again. That was the only reason he was finding her return difficult. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had been doing a lot of healing and had a new brightness to her skin and eyes, or the fact that she was experimenting with new hairstyles and clothes that suited her much more than what she had before. No, none of that had any impact on him. Breaking up was what was best for both of them and he knew that. He truly believed that. One hundred percent.
“Sketch? Hello?” Ruby’s voice crackled through the communication band. He hadn’t even realized she’d been talking to him.
“Sorry what did you say”
“I saaaaaiid” she replied in mock annoyance. “Did you guys find anything on that side of the house, because we’ve got nothing.”
“Just the broken window she was telling us about but it looks more like it got hit with a baseball or something than a home invasion.” Just as he said it Nova shone her flashlight inside.
“Adrian.” her voice shook a bit. “Look”
He peered through the broken glass and sitting on the floor was an orange haired puppet.
Nova looked up at him concerned. In the weeks past a man impersonating the Puppeteer had been terrorizing homes with small children, and the Renegades hadn’t been able to catch him or even find any clues about his identity. He was all anyone was talking about at HQ and Adrian knew that his dad’s would have sent a more advanced patrol group if they were aware of the perpetrator, especially since Adrian hadn’t yet finished re-tattooing his sentinel abilities, but maybe this could be a good opportunity to prove themselves.
He lifted his wrist to his mouth “Red Assassin, Smokescreen can you guys go inside and check if this lady has any young grand-kids staying here or anything.”
Ruby’s voice flowed back through the band “Um sure but why? Is there something wr-... Wait, did you guys find something? Is it that puppet guy?”
“Ruby. Please just go check. We might have limited time.”
“Yeah of course. Okay. We're going inside now.”
Nova began reaching her hand inside to grab the puppet.
“Careful of the glass” Adrian warned though he knew she would be. Nova only nodded and offered a small mhm.
Though the window was very low to the ground and the puppet was just inside Nova was having a hard time reaching due to the jagged glass.
Adrian knew she wouldn't ask for help so he simply walked over and grabbed it easily.
“I could have done that.” She mumbled.
“I know”
They both looked down at the creepy thing which was almost an exact replica of Winston Pratt’s infamous puppet Hettie. A note was pinned to the front of the doll which read, It’s time to pay for your betrayal Nightmare. A shiver ran down his spine and Nova’s jaw hardened.
“We don’t have to do this, you know. We can always call for backup if this is too much.” The threat was disconcerting to say the least and even besides that, Adrian knew that Nova’s connection to The Puppeteer was complicated and this may not be the best thing for her mental recovery.
“I'm fine Sketch.”
She didn’t exactly sound fine, and Adrian wanted to insist that they call someone else, considering Nova was much more important than his desire to prove himself, but before he got the chance they heard Oscar’s voice through his communication band.
“Two kids in the upstairs bedrooms. A boy and a girl. Going to check on them now.”
“I'm going to check the back of the house.” Nova began to walk towards the gate that led to the backyard.
“I'll come with you, Monarch can check around the other side.”
“No, everyone else is still inside. It's faster if you go around the front and I go around the back.”
“Nova there’s a note on this thing threatening you.” He said holding up the doll. “I'm not leaving you alone.”
“Adrian I'm not scared of him and I can handle myself, you know that.”
In any other situation Adrian would have insisted that they stay together, but there were kids in danger and they needed to find this guy. He didn’t want Nova to be unsafe but he was probably just being paranoid, how much of a threat could this guy be?
—
Nova’s head was pounding. Her memories of the night were coming back to her in short bursts. The sound of maniacal laughter. A face covered in marionette makeup exactly like that of the Puppeteer. The cold press of a knife to her throat. Her hand fumbling to find bare skin. A stab in her side. Pain. Searing white-hot pain. And then nothing. That’s when she had lost consciousness. And now she was laying in a hospital bed with large bandages wrapped around her midsection.
‘Miss Artino?”
Nova opened her eyes and looked up at the man in the white doctor's coat standing next to her bed. An older, balding man with friendly eyes.
“How are you feeling?”
“Um…fine I guess” she replied, testing her voice, and it was true she did feel fine. She had some soreness from the wound in her side but the prodigy doctors at HQ were some of the finest and she was sure it would heal completely within a couple of days.
“Good, the wound was pretty severe but it looks like you’ll make a full recovery. Would you like me to let your friends in? They've been here all night.”
Right. Her friends. Her team. Adrian. Was he okay?
She shook herself. She should be asking about her whole team. She shouldn’t care any more about Adrian’s safety than the rest of them. And she didn’t. She definitely didn’t.
“Miss Artino?” The doctor looked at her mildly concerned, and Nova didn’t blame him. She probably looked crazy right now.
She cleared her throat “Yeah, yes please let them in.”
The doctor offered a small friendly nod and walked over to the door, exiting the room and letting her team file in. Ruby being the first to burst through the door, followed by Oscar, Danna, and Adrian. He- They all looked tired, drawing some minor scrapes and bruises but they were otherwise unharmed.
“Oh my stars I am so glad you're okay,” Ruby rushed over to Nova’s bed offering an enthusiastic yet gentle hug, which Nova did her best to return. “You were covered in blood and it looked awful. I mean the doctors told us it wasn’t as bad as it looked but it was terrifying and that guy was so creepy.” Ruby shuttered.
“Oh come on we all knew she would be fine. Nova is the toughest of us all.” Oscar walked over to give her a gentle nudge on the shoulder. “You did have us scared for a second there Artino, but I knew you’d pull through.”
She could tell that Oscar was trying to sound braver than he actually felt, as he so often did. It warmed Nova’s heart a bit to see that her team truly cared, even if they couldn't all fully admit it.
“Well I'm glad you had faith in me.” she said a bit weakly. She was still tired from the battle and her injury. “What happened to the Puppeteer impersonator after I passed out?’
The answer came from Danna “You ended up putting him to sleep right as he got you. We have him in custody.”
Nova nodded. This was a relief to her. She didn’t want that guy out there impersonating Winston, especially if it meant hurting kids. That, and she didn’t almost die for nothing.
“I'm really glad you're okay Nova.” Danna sounded sincere when she said these words. Nova didn’t think Danna would want her to die, no matter how rocky their relationship, but the way she said it made it seem like more than that. Like maybe in these past few months she had found friendship and maybe even forgiveness for Nova.
“Thank you.” Nova offered the brightest smile she could muster up, but it wasn’t great.
She turned her eyes to Adrian who hadn’t said a single word since they had walked in. He looked like he’d been crying. Maybe that meant he still had feelings for her? No, he was just concerned, as he would be for any of his teammates. She wasn’t special, well, not anymore. And she shouldn’t hope to be anyway. They couldn’t be together. And besides she was over him. Totally. One hundred percent. They just stared at each other. No words came to her, and no words came to him either apparently.
“Weeeeeelll,” Oscar’s voice cut through the tension. “Guess it’s time to get home, maybe grab some food. Long night and all.” He said, gently grabbing his girlfriend's arm and feigning a yawn. Nova just shook her head at him.
Danna began walking towards the door as well. “Yeah I’m gonna second that.”
They each said a rushed goodbye, and Nova thanked them for sticking around before they exited the room.
She looked back at Adrian. She had the striking thought that he looked handsome, even with obvious red eyes from tears, and being awake for many hours, he still looked handsome. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about that, this wasn’t the time nor the place, and they had been broken up for months. But still, she thought it.
When he finally spoke his words were heavy. “I thought I lost you.”
Stupidly, Nova relished in the words he chose. Not, ‘I thought you died’ or ‘I didn’t know if you’d be okay’. He didn’t want to lose her and that meant something. To both of them, she hoped. “Nova this is what? The third time you’ve almost died? You have to be more careful.”
This was slightly offensive to Nova considering his track record. “You're the one who’s always saying this job is dangerous, and you're almost more reckless than me.”
“I know. I know okay.” he sighed. “But you should've let me come with you as back up. Someone else could have checked the rest of the house.”
“Well it’s over now and I’m fine. I survived.”
“No Nova, it's not over now.” He was starting to become angry, well not angry but more…flustered? Nova didn’t understand why he was acting like this. He knew better than anybody about risking his life. “This is our job. This right here.” He made a general gesture to the space around them. Or maybe between them? She couldn’t quite tell. “This is our life.”
“Adrian. I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.” And the truth was she didn’t. Why was he getting so upset?
“Nova I can’t do this okay.” He was almost struggling to get the words out now. “I can’t go into work everyday and watch the person that I love almost die.”
Nova was taken aback. There it was. Plain and simple. His admission that he still loved her. And she wanted to believe him, but he knew they couldn’t be together. This was sleep deprivation and emotion talking. He couldn’t possibly know what he’s saying.
“Adrian, maybe you should get some sleep, and we can talk about this tomorrow.” It hurt Nova to say these words but she knew she had to. Out of respect for him.
“No, Nova this past week has been horrible. Ever since the Supernova things have been hard, but having you here, around the team, with me, but not with me. It’s been hell. I know exactly what I’m saying. I love you, Nova Artino.” Nova’s jaw was almost on the floor at this point and she saw the look in his eye as he misread whatever he was seeing on her face.
He started towards the door. “Um you know what, maybe I should get some rest, and we can just put this behin-”
“Adrian”
“No, I'm really sorry. You're trying to heal and I’m just-”
“Adrian” She said again, more forcefully this time, stopping him in his tracks. She could practically hear Adrians heart racing, alongside her own.
“Come here.” Adrian started towards the bed slowly and as soon as he was close enough Novas grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his lips to her own. Adrian made a small noise of surprise but didn’t pull away. He sat down on the edge of the bed, cupping her face in his hands as the kiss became more intense.
Nova pulled away gently pressing their foreheads together.
“I love you too Adrian Everheart.”
He smiled that beautiful smile of his and pressed one final kiss to her lips.
“Do you mind if I stay here tonight? It's pretty late and I told my dads I would stay in one of the rooms we rent out.”
“I would love for you to stay with me.”
Adrian gently maneuvered himself and the blankets so that they could both lay down without hurting her. They laid together in comfortable silence for a few moments, a feeling Nova had missed so much these past months, until Adrian whispered into the darkness.
“So does this mean we’re back together?”
Nova just laughed and replied “I hope so.”
#renegades trilogy#renegades trilogy fic#adrian everhart#nova artino#supernova#archenemies#team sketch#nodrian#happy ending with mild angst to get there
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TYYY, im the anon who requested avgin reader <33
i was thinking maybe part 2, where aventurine remembers that he promised to marry reader (an aventurine fan being delusional in its finest after some lovely angst), he would remember the promise because his past self told him that he would marry reader when he's older, and maybe he tries to find us but we already leave penacony
he looks for us for a while, but doesn't find us, until he comes across us again, but we have different colored eyes (contacts(im imagining every avgin has their own very unique eyes)). he tells us that he is sorry, but he had to leave kakavasha behind in order to become aventurine, AND WE MAKE OUT
jkjk
but he wants us to starts over and be friends again, and then eventually we start dating
i love being delusional over fictional men (especially aventurine)
End of Beginning | Part 2
Summary: Driven by a forgotten promise he made to you in your youth, Aventurine searches for you, only to discover you have also changed.
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Slow Burn, Second Chance Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reunited Lovers, Childhood Friends to Strangers to Lovers, Emotional Repression, Confession in the Rain, Friends to Lovers.
Warnings: Emotional Pain and Past Trauma, Identity Struggles, Themes of Loss and Separation, Mild Language.
A/N: OMG HIII!! 🤭I LOVED YOUR PREVIOUS REQ AND YOU'RE SO REAL FOR THAT LMAOO!! ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS ONE 🫶💖🥰
(Part 1)
The rain came down like a forgotten melody, blurring the neon lights of Penacony's streets into hazy streaks of color. Aventurine stood beneath an awning, absentmindedly watching the downpour, his hand resting in his pocket, fingers brushing against a small object: a chipped, red gemstone you’d given him back on Sigonia-IV, long before everything had changed.
It had started with a memory—half-formed, distant but persistent. "When I’m older," his voice from another time had echoed faintly, "I’ll marry you." He hadn’t thought of that promise in years, but it lingered now, blooming in the spaces between his fabricated smiles and rehearsed confidence. In the midst of high-stakes deals and risky wagers, a part of him had begun yearning for something more honest, something only you could have given him.
And so, he had started looking. But you had already left Penacony, slipping away just as he arrived at places where he was certain he’d find you. Weeks turned into months, yet his search continued, propelled by a restless ache he couldn’t deny. Each dead-end only amplified the memory of you—your laughter, the way you’d said his real name, Kakavasha, as if it held his entire world within it.
Finally, he found himself in a quiet place far from the bustling cities, the perfect setting for chance reunions. He spotted you standing beneath a flickering streetlight, your silhouette softened by the drizzle. But when you turned to face him, he froze, heart hammering as he took in your unfamiliar gaze—your eyes were different, colored lenses casting your unique Avgin irises into another shade.
Still, he could tell it was you. He took a step forward, and you blinked in recognition, guarded but unable to disguise the glint of emotion in your expression.
“Kakavasha...” you murmured, almost like a question, but he could hear the hope hidden in your voice.
He clenched his jaw, glancing down as he felt the weight of that name settle into him. “I... I’m sorry,” he began, voice barely rising above the rainfall. “I had to leave Kakavasha behind to become Aventurine.”
The words hung between you both, fragile but resolute. You studied him, looking for a hint of the boy you once knew, the one who had promised forever. He took another step, so close now that he could see the light rain gathering in your hair, feel the warmth of your presence. “I remember... that I once told you I’d marry you one day,” he confessed softly, almost afraid to voice it aloud. “That’s why I’ve been looking for you.”
“Why didn’t you stay?” The hurt in your voice was undeniable, woven with both sorrow and defiance. “Why did you let go of everything we had?”
Aventurine closed his eyes, breathing through the ache. “I had to,” he said quietly, “to survive, to become someone who could protect you, in a way I couldn’t before.” He looked up at you, eyes revealing the struggle beneath his poised exterior. “But I want to try again, to be... someone you can trust. Let’s start over. As friends, if that’s what you want.”
The words opened a wound, yet there was something in his gaze—vulnerable and raw—that made you want to believe him. The rain picked up, pouring harder now, drenching you both in a cloak of silver. He lifted his hand, hesitated, then let it fall, as if afraid he no longer had the right to reach for you.
And then, standing under the rain, words escaped you, unbidden but true. “Then let’s start over.” Your voice was a whisper, but it was enough.
Aventurine’s eyes softened, a flicker of hope sparking within them. He stepped back, nodded, and offered a small smile that, for the first time in years, felt genuine. Neither of you moved to leave; instead, you lingered, drenched and laughing softly under the storm, sharing a tentative glance that promised more than any words could convey.
As the rain poured down, you both knew this was only the beginning—of something fragile, yet unbreakable.
#hsr#honkai star rail#x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#hsr aventurine x reader#aventurine#aventurine honkai star rail#star rail aventurine#slow burn#second chance romance#angst with a happy ending#reunited lovers#childhood friends to strangers#to lovers#emotional repression#confession in the rain#friends to lovers trope#friends to lovers#emotional pain and past trauma#identity struggles#themes of loss and separation#mild language
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READ ON AO3
#author: btswritesx#length: 11 to 25k words#rating: mature#au: students#strangers to lovers#mild/implied smut#angst with a happy ending#tw: flashbacks to past domestic abuse#namjin#namjin au
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bound by blood - a bbc sherlock / johnlock fanfic
chpt. i
John once said to Sherlock: “I’ve seen people die before. I thought I’d never sleep again. I’ll sleep fine tonight.”
fic summary | John has killed before - but not like this. John would do anything to keep it a secret. To keep his family safe. Sherlock would do anything to solve a case. And he seems to have taken a keen interest in this one.
tags/warnings | BBC Sherlock, johnlock, parentlock, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, semi-slow burn, mild smut, violence/ injury, substance abuse
words | 5.6k
a/n | it’s been a while! I can’t say how long this will be but I’m on my holiday now so I’ll have more time to write. Each chapter will be about 5.6k words I’ll try and get part 2 out asap but I just wanted to see how this was received first. Enjoy :))
ao3 edition
————————————————————————————
"You've got to tell him."
"I can't tell him, Mary."
"He would tell you."
Silence. "I know."
"He can help you."
"No one can help me."
—
"Morning, John." Sherlock called from the kitchen as soon as John set foot in the hall.
"Oh, morning, Sherlock." John stifled a yawn and shuffled into the room. He tied his tattered dressing gown around his waist in a lacklustre knot before meeting Sherlock, a regular ritual. No one needed to see his pyjamas - they'd definitely had better days.
"How long have you been awake?" John probed, sweeping a mug of coffee off the table. He gingerly took a sip, but set it back down again after realising it tasted faintly of decomposition.
Sherlock didn't turn around. He was wearing only his pyjama bottoms and a worn pair of slippers. This was nothing new; John had seen Sherlock in various stages of undressed before, even near nudity (in Buckingham palace, where else). So why did he feel the need to avert his eyes when he turned around?
He avoided the sight of Sherlock's bare chest, which filled his vision, instead smiling up at him and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Er, a couple hours, I think?" He whisked back around again without even glancing at him.
John sighed internally. What's wrong with you? It wasn't as if he was naked. He must just be tired still. His thoughts were muddled, nothing made much sense to him right now. Coffee.
"Jesus," he pulled his chair back and walked to the sink, "coffee?"
John didn't know why he bothered asking. Sherlock didn't bother to shake his head in response. "Made some," he carried on clattering about at the counter, "try it."
John cast a sideways glance at the mug. "I did."
Sherlock twisted around, eyes narrowing. "And?" It's like he couldn't help but bring his fingertips together in their signature diamond shape.
"Vile."
"Hmm," Sherlock grunted and eyed John briefly before continuing with whatever he was doing. "I'm not sure why you're surprised, John. I'm always up early."
"Yes, but it's seven. A couple hours ago could mean anything." John glanced at his watch.
Sherlock looked up, seeming to realise something. "Oh, it is seven. Why are you up so early?"
"Sherlock," John let his head fall back in exasperation. "Are you kidding me?"
Sherlock drew his eyebrows together. "Uh, I don't think so."
"Work. I'm going to work. You know, the thing I do three days a week."
Sherlock stared at him like he thought he was lying. His eyes were unfocused, as they usually were when he was working something out. "Oh?"
"Yes, Sherlock. That's where I go all day." At this point, John was leant on the counter, arms folded, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. The smell almost masked the ever-present aroma of Sherlock's failed experiments that coated the air like London smog. John wondered how Sherlock had managed before he came along - his living space must have bordered on uninhabitable.
Not that John tidied that often. In fact, he regularly wondered how the place managed to stay as clean as it was. He suspected Mrs Hudson might have had something to do with it - though she'd only admit it if she was in an argumentative mood with Sherlock. She usually brought up the, 'I do everything around here!' when it suited.
Sherlock shook his head in disbelief. He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, peering into a Petri dish. John wasn't sure how he could look at such off putting things at this hour. Sometimes he really wondered if he was human.
The coffee had come to boil and John poured two mugs full of the black stuff. One milky, two sugars, one black, one sugar. He sighed loudly to himself before slipping Sherlock the black mug across the table and leaving to get ready. Sherlock must wonder where all the coffee came from.
John stopped still, suddenly remembering something. He ducked his head back in the doorway, noticing that Sherlock was sipping the coffee, unsuspecting. "Oh, and you can forget me all you like, but just don't forget Rosie. She's asleep upstairs."
Sherlock looked up at that. His jaw had fallen in mock-offence. "John, how dare you."
John smiled and shook his head, walking back out the room as he had before. Sherlock yelled something from the table, along the lines of, "Besides, Rosie is far less forgettable than you."
Sherlock didn't say goodbye that morning. John wasn't offended - he was used to it. Still, he called out his own bellowing farewell from the front door and stepped into the street, peering up at the window of their flat as he turned right.
He wasn't at all surprised to see nothing but the swaying curtains. He wasn't even sure what he expected to see - perhaps the familiar figure of Sherlock, waving him off. Smiling down at him. Who was he kidding? Sherlock had never, ever done that.
John was a little disturbed with himself the whole journey to work. He'd woken up half an hour earlier to give himself enough time to walk there (he had given up on cycling a long time ago, much to Sherlock's amusement), but he wasn't feeling the usual benefits of the walk at all.
He couldn't shake the image of Sherlock, bare chested, holding a vial of something brown, standing over him. Every time he blinked it was there. He was there.
I'm going fucking crazy, John thought to himself, I need to go on Tinder or something.
He nodded at this idea once and pulled his phone out of his coat pocket. He swiped to the final page, searching for the icon. He eventually found it, thumb hovering over the screen. He slowed his walking pace, thoughts ticking, barely registering the people that shoved past him in the usual London manner.
He completely stopped when he realised what he was doing. On the fringes of his mind, reflected on the concrete slabs, he could see Mary, smiling at him, holding their child. He waved it away, not even caring that he looked like a smackhead. In its place, the woman on the bus, Eurus, smirking from across the aisle. John pressed a firm hand to his forehead.
I'm seriously losing the plot now. He hadn't thought of either of them for months, but somehow, the images always appeared one way or another. He knew he couldn't just stop meeting people - not even Mary would want that for him, he knew. But he couldn't allow himself to. Every time the prospect came up, internally or externally, it was like a brick wall slamming down over his mind.
He wasn't sure what it was. Rosie, maybe. The idea alone that she would grow up without her mother was troubling enough. He knew that he didn't want her growing up with a collage of different women in her life - it didn't feel right to him. No, he needed to be stable for her. Steady.
But it wasn't just that. He couldn't connect the dots, not now, in the middle of a busy street. Still, the answer floated somewhere in his headspace, though he couldn't grasp it. He'd mull it over later - at work maybe - if it was quiet.
I need to start waking up later. The whole morning had been a mess. It was Sherlock's fault, entirely, of course. If it wasn't for him, his skin, utterly stupidly smooth, way above him...
Christ. John slapped himself, hard.
—
Work dragged on, as per usual. The waiting list was long, far too long, leaving John no time to search his brain for what he'd been missing earlier.
At half five on the dot, he leapt from his chair and tidied his room up for tomorrow. His phone buzzed from inside his coat pocket and John, unsure what it could be, eyed it from the cupboard. It stopped for a minute or two then buzzed once again.
John exhaled loudly and stalked across the room, several possibilities crossing his mind: Sherlock with a new case, Sherlock with a Rosie crisis, Sherlock with a general anecdote, or his mother.
Instead, he saw: We still on 4 2nite? See u at the Stag if so - M
Then: Gonna get WRECKEDDD
Shit! John had forgotten about that. It was Friday, and he had agreed, in a slightly more motivated moment, to meet a couple of his friends for drinks. And because he'd forgotten (in the chaos of the morning, Sherlock) his wallet at home, he'd have to walk back to Baker Street before he went out.
He stood briefly with his head in his hands, willing any motivation to rise. He really could not picture himself drinking tonight, let alone with a gang of friends he hadn't seen in months. All he wanted was to head home and watch a Sean Connery film with Sherlock, with Rosie dozing off in his lap. That was his usual Friday routine. And he liked it.
Eventually, by twenty-to, the motivation came. He seized his coat off the hook and walked out of his room, waving bye to his receptionist as quickly as possible to avoid any conversation. She managed to slip out a barrage of questions about his evening, his weekend, his sister (how does she know about Harriet?) despite John shaking his head. He managed to make it out with not a single question answered.
He marched down the street in a manner that resembled his military training. It was fascinating, really, to see the ways those years abroad and in battle shaped him. Sometimes he was truly astounded with himself. Like the way a gun felt in his hand - like it was supposed to be there, like an extension of himself. There was a reason John was the one that carried the gun and Sherlock didn't. He much preferred target practice on Mrs Hudson's walls.
He reached Baker Street in half the time it had taken him this morning. His head was empty of the previous things that had bothered him - though he suspected that would change once he set foot inside. He had no idea what to expect every time he came home.
He only trusted Sherlock with Rosie if Mrs Hudson was in the building. Thankfully, he had created a work schedule that benefited them all and allowed John to work part-time. Working with Sherlock could probably sustain them all, but the consulting industry was temperamental, and John knew the importance of keeping a steady job.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Sherlock, he just got carried away with himself sometimes. For all his supposed hatred for humanity, he was pretty good with kids. John suspected it was because Sherlock acted like one himself most of the time - he knew what to say to them. Especially Rosie.
John was the opposite. He'd never been good with kids. His childhood seemed like a distant thing, something he had no doubt experienced, but a very, very long time ago. Rosie was different. John supposed that was fatherhood - it changed the person you thought you were, and replaced you with something completely different. An imposter. But a welcome one.
John knocked lightly and let himself in, the smell of home washing over him. He was greeted by Mrs Hudson, who was on her way down the stairs with a basket of folded laundry on her hip.
"Oh- I told you not to bother with our washing anymore." John sighed as he wiped his shoes on the welcome mat.
"Well, I don't see either of you washing it. How clean's that shirt? Give it to me when you're done with it."
"We- well, alright. If you insist..." John shrugged off his coat, "how have they been, by the way?"
"Lovely, fine. The things I hear him telling her though, John! Murder and all that. You need to give him a good talking to." She made a disgusted noise in her throat then pottered off to her flat, shutting the door curtly behind her.
John just shook his head. What made Mrs Hudson think Sherlock would listen to him, John wasn't at all sure. In fact, he'd love to hear her reasons.
As John ascended up the stairs, two familiar voices (one distinct, one babbling) became clearer. He stopped halfway and shut his eyes, trying to make out the conversation. He didn't know if they were aware of his presence yet, but he tried to be as quiet as possible.
"...quite short, isn't he?" then, "...obviously he's been off with her...needs to get sacked..."
Once John reached the top of the stairs, he could make out music wafting into the hall out the open door. Familiar music.
"Sherlock! You're letting Rosie watch Top Gun?"
Sherlock didn't turn to look at him, instead waving a hand in his general direction. "Yes, John. You said it was your favourite - I wondered if it might be hereditary."
John scoffed. Rosie turned from the TV, making a pleased noise at the sight of John by the door. She got up to greet him, steadying herself on the arm of John's armchair. Sherlock moved to help her but leant back again when she toddled off by herself.
"She seemed to be enjoying it. Not for me. A bit too..." he made an odd gesture in the air.
"I'm not sure what that," John jabbed at Sherlock, "means, but I'm going to pretend I didn't hear it."
Sherlock just hummed, unable to tear his gaze from the TV. His eyes lingered extensively on Tom Cruise's six pack.
John sighed, holding Rosie's pudgy hand as she looked up at him with wide blue eyes. "Any clients?"
Sherlock nodded, keeping an eye on the TV. "Yes, four."
John raised his eyebrows. "And?"
"Boring, boring," Sherlock stabbed at the air with a slender finger, "okay, and boring."
"What was the okay one?"
Sherlock pressed his fingers together. "Convinced her husband was a goat-man hybrid controlled by the devil, or something or other."
John was slightly stunned. "Well?"
"Carbon monoxide." Sherlock didn't elaborate.
John just widened his eyes and nodded, at a loss for words. Rosie reached up to him, wanting to be picked up, but John made no move to do so. He stared at the TV with his eyes glazed over. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"You're going somewhere."
John snapped out of his daze. "Correct."
"You don't want to."
"Also correct."
"Let me guess," Sherlock stood up nimbly out of his armchair, "the pub with Mike."
John nodded, swiping a hand over his face. He had no idea how Sherlock could know, but he wasn't interested in finding out.
"And others." Sherlock frowned slightly, bending down to pick Rosie up. He held her somewhat awkwardly as though he still wasn't used to the gesture, but she didn't seem to mind. She squealed happily in his arms.
"Yeah, a couple guys I haven't seen since the wedding." John's voice cracked a little on the last word. He hoped Sherlock hadn't noticed.
"Well," Sherlock adjusted Rosie, "don't worry about us. It'll be an early night I think." He smiled at her.
John wasn't convinced. "Sure." He paused, looking down at his shoes. "It's not that. They'll ask about Mary, and..."
"And?"
"I really don't want to be hungover this weekend." John frowned at Sherlock.
Sherlock seemed to be considering something. He set Rosie down, who wandered off to watch the end of Top Gun. "Well, I could come with you."
When John pulled a face, he continued quickly to make his point. "Make sure you only consume an acceptable amount, redirect conversation, et cetera..." He watched John's expression carefully.
John worried his lip. Usually, inviting Sherlock to any friendly alcohol-driven setting was not a great idea. Especially considering the last time they had gotten considerably drunk together, they'd ended up in a jail cell by the end of it. Even worse than that, the last time these guys had seen Sherlock was during his rather distracted best man's speech. John winced.
"Well," John began, "I'm not sure. What about Rosie?" He looked over at her. She was standing barely an inch away from the TV, mesmerised.
Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. "We can put her to bed and Mrs Hudson can keep an eye on her. We won't be out all night." He smiled as though he had already won the conversation.
He had. "Alright, Sherlock. You win."
He turned to walk out the door, en route to his bedroom. He couldn't exactly show up to the pub in business-casual. He called behind him, "I don't even know why you want to go. You hate this sort of thing."
"Just looking out for you, John." Sherlock said in an odd tone.
"Hm," John hummed sceptically. He wasn't convinced, but he also didn't have the energy to make Sherlock explain himself. He knew he wouldn't be able to get the reason out of him.
John proceeded up the stairs and began getting himself ready. He picked his usual jeans-and-jumper ensemble and re-combed his hair. Sherlock, of course, decided to wear a suit of sorts - him and Mycroft had that in common, at least. He went for the slightly more casual choice of a partly unbuttoned white shirt, however, which was the closest he could ever get to the concept.
It took them all but twenty minutes, most of it being John contemplating messaging Mike about the new addition. He opened and closed messages about fifty times before deciding against it. Showing up unannounced with Sherlock was not John's smartest idea, but it was better than the alternative of having to deal with an awkward text conversation. No doubt Mike would try to wriggle out of it somehow.
"And you're sure you're okay with it?" John asked Mrs Hudson by the front door.
"Oh of course, don't worry," she assured them, "you boys deserve a date."
Sherlock smiled at the ground, but John intercepted. "It's not- oh, you know what? Never mind." He shook his head at nothing in particular.
Mrs Hudson's faint voice followed them out the door, muttering something about "live and let live". John decided to ignore it.
"I really don't know why you're doing this, Sherlock." John commented.
"Like I said, John," he looked straight ahead, "I'm just looking out for you. That's what friends do." He smiled a strange little smirk that John didn't miss.
"You're so..." John trailed off.
"Thoughtful?"
"Wasn't the word I was going to use, no." John weaved through the crowds, trying not to lose Sherlock.
Sherlock met him again and turned right, John jogging slightly to catch up with his long stride. A sign that indicated the pub, nestled between several terrace-style shops, jutted out from the wall. John stopped suddenly.
"How did you know where we were going?"
Sherlock didn't say anything, sweeping his coat behind him as he stepped into the entrance. He held the door open for John. "After you."
John mumbled his thanks. He braced himself for the sight of his friends, no doubt at the bar, and their reactions to his companion. Once they caught sight of John, they all whooped, moving to greet him with their arms out. Their celebrations faded when their gaze rested upon Sherlock, who stood assertively behind John with his hands in his pockets.
John sighed. The next few hours would be interesting.
—
"So you're telling me you don't know who the queen is?"
Everyone was at least four beers deep now. The pub had gotten busier with each passing hour, and the five of them were piled in a booth, elbow to elbow.
The whole place had a warm glow, the ceiling strung with exposed bulbs and bunting. The feel of the decor was very clearly industrial, every wall being exposed brick or faded red wallpaper. It smelled like overpriced beer.
"No," Sherlock replied to one of John's friends who sat opposite. John was squeezed between Sherlock and another one of his pals. John could feel every word that Sherlock said like a deep vibration, and every breath he took warmed his neck.
John was finding it very hard to concentrate.
Especially because Sherlock's leg was pressed right up against his own, and John couldn't bear to move an inch.
"How can you not know that?" John's friend looked around, baffled, his beer sloshing onto the table. John peeled his coat off the already sticky surface to avoid the backsplash.
"It's not important," Sherlock replied.
The whole evening had gone far better than Sherlock had anticipated - each of his friends had taken a great interest in Sherlock's work, all barraging him with questions. They, of course, also had questions about the wedding and Sherlock's speech, but he had skilfully diverted the conversation. Whether that was for John's sake or his own, John wasn't sure.
In fact, John had barely gotten a word in edgewise. He was grateful for that, though - the beer had made him drowsy rather than buzzed. He had to splash his face a couple times in the bathroom to keep himself awake. Sherlock seemed to notice this.
Sherlock nudged John's foot under the table. John, who had his face in his hand and his eyes half-closed, looked up to see everyone staring at him.
"Oh, sorry," he blinked. "What was that?"
"I said," his friend opposite smirked, "are you seeing anyone?"
John paused, a little stunned. He had no idea when this topic had arisen. Sherlock cleared his throat. "They asked me, but I told them I'm married to my work."
His friends laughed at that, which Sherlock looked quite confused about. "Not at the moment, no," was all John could manage.
John noticed a crease between Sherlock's brows. He didn't say anything, though.
"Really?" Another friend joined in, "have you tried any apps? I met my..."
Their voices dissipated into the noise of the pub. John was barely able to concentrate on the conversation anymore. He could feel Sherlock's body heat rolling off him in waves, warming his whole right side. It made him even more tired. It took all his strength not to close his eyes and let his head fall.
Sherlock made the whole table explode into another round of booming laughter, jolting John awake. He groaned and swiped a hand over his face. No one seemed to take note. Except from Sherlock.
Sherlock stood up suddenly, palms pressed on the table. He thrust a handful of coins onto the table from his coat pocket. "Another round gents?"
They all cheered in response, apart from John. Sherlock seized him under the arm and excused them both to the bar. He swept up the coins and thrust them into John's hand as he dragged him along. John was a little dazed.
"Feeling sleepy?" Sherlock said sarcastically, holding John's shoulder.
"Yes, Sherlock, I am," John looked around at the crowd. He could barely hear Sherlock's voice. "Why, Sherlock?"
Sherlock looked puzzled. "Why what?"
"Why are you doing all this?" John clenched his jaw. "Switching on the charm?"
"I don't know what you mean," Sherlock said.
"Yes you do," John mumbled. "You hate going out. Every time I introduce you to a friend you insist on making sure they never want to see me again."
Sherlock rolled his eyes theatrically. John saw this as a sign to carry on. "And suddenly you're cracking jokes? Trying to impress them?"
He was cut off by Sherlock ordering another round of beers. He shouted over the noise at the bartender. John waited, mouth in a tight line, his first clenched on the bar.
When he was done, John continued. "So what's this about, huh?"
"You're exhausted, John," Sherlock dragged his eyes to meet him. "Imagining things."
"You're kidding, right?" John scoffed. "No, that's not it, is it?" John searched Sherlock's face.
"If you must know! It's for a case," Sherlock hissed through his teeth. He picked up two glasses of beer, gesturing at John to get the others.
John didn't budge. He stood, frozen. "Unbelievable," he watched Sherlock with his mouth agape. "You could have told me. Could have said something."
"Like what?"
"Something!" John pinched his nose bridge. "You barged in on my one meeting with my friends in months! Years! For a case!"
"You didn't want to go anyway. I was doing you a favour." Sherlock moved to walk back to the table, but John grabbed him by his coat sleeve and dragged him back.
"So what is it, then? Huh? Tell me, is one of them a murderer?" He said sarcastically, but his voice held no jest.
Sherlock inclined his head. "Maybe. I'd hardly call them your friends, though, certainly not two out of the three..."
"You know what?" John was barely inches from his face now. He unknowingly still had a fistful of Sherlock's coat. "I don't want to hear it. Keep your deductions to yourself, Sherlock Holmes."
John let him go. Sherlock seemed to be at a loss for words. He was still holding the beer glasses, though a considerable amount was running down his arms.
John spoke for him. "I'm going home." He grabbed a beer glass out of Sherlock's hand and raised it to his mouth, downing it in four gulps. He wiped his mouth with his coat sleeve, eyes shining. "Take your time."
Sherlock called his name as John left the pub, weaving through the groups of people. He let the door slam behind him. The night swallowed him whole as he stomped down the street, his shoes slapping against the pavement.
He had no idea what time it was. The street was empty. He looked up at the black sky, stars like white-hot pinpricks scattered sparsely across. He shrunk back into his jacket once the cold bit into him again.
He could see his breath fogging the air before him, but he couldn't help himself from gasping slightly. He just couldn't believe Sherlock's nerve. He knew that his sudden interest in socialising was odd, anyway. It all seemed to make sense now.
John wasn't even sure why he was surprised. It wasn't as if this was the first time Sherlock had done something like this. Taking off in the night, leaving mid conversation, disappearing for hours with no explanation… the subconscious list went on.
It seemed to be fading as of recently. Sherlock, a man who detested routine, had settled in to 'family' life well. But John couldn't help but notice the way his leg bounced constantly, or the increasing quantity of stabbed paper on the mantelpiece.
John felt guilty, in a way. Sometimes, at night, when he couldn't sleep, his mind wandered to a time when it was just the two of them. Never sleeping, solving one case after the next, leaving whenever.
John had reassured Sherlock that he could still solve cases without him. Sherlock said that was ridiculous. He tried that before, remember? And it ended the same way it had began: Holmes and Watson.
John huffed into his hands in an attempt to warm them. It barely worked. All he could hear was the wind hissing past his ears and his footfall on the pavement.
Until they were accompanied by something else. Someone else's steps, falling in time with his own. John ignored them for a while, his mind still racing with thoughts of Sherlock.
They grew closer, barely six feet behind him now. John glanced back but only saw a figure dressed in black, the hood of their parka pulled over their head. They seemed to be staring at the floor behind John's feet.
John move aside to let them pass despite half the pavement being empty. They didn't make any attempt to move or quicken their pace. John felt an increasing uneasiness in his stomach.
John decided to take a random turn off the main road, wanting to see if the man followed. There was no clear way back to Baker Street now unless he went past the river.
His bad feeling only got worse when John reached a break in the houses. An alleyway bathed in darkness stretched to his left. John was about to break into a run when the person grabbed him by the shoulder and thrust him into the alley.
John slammed against a brick wall. "Hey! The fuck are you doing?" His voice echoed across the empty street, but the person slapped a hand over his mouth.
John couldn't make out the person's face. Their hood cast a shadow over their features, making them indistinguishable. John mumbled, yelling, against his palm, readying his leg to kick out.
"Do you know Mary Watson?" The person hissed. John froze. A gun had been removed from his pocket and was pressed against John's temple. He flattened his hands on the wall.
They threw back their hood. The person holding the gun to John was a young man, barely twenty-five, with a youthful face. His eyes, however, held something dark. He stared at John with a bitter distaste.
The man moved his hand slightly. John, far too terrified to speak, kept his mouth clamped firmly shut.
The man didn't like that. "I said," he pressed the gun further, bruising John's face, "do you know Mary Watson?" He brought his face so close John could feel his breath.
"She's my wife." John gasped. He fought to get the words out, before realising his mistake.
The man brought a hard fist to the side of John's face. John spluttered, pain clouding his vision. What did this guy want with him? With Mary? This wasn't just a mugging. That punch was personal.
He watched as John rose back up to his full height. John clenched his fist, prepared to throw back his own punch. The man was too quick - he kicked out John's legs from underneath him, causing John to whack his head on the concrete below.
Spots danced across his eyes. He groaned, barely registering the next few kicks to his gut. The man spat out assaults. "It was your bitch wife that did it! I'll kill her!"
John scrambled against the wall. "What do you-" he gasped, trying to rise to his feet, "want?" He finally choked out.
The man smirked. He didn't rush to kick John back down. "Does AGRA ring any bells? Or did she keep that one quiet?"
Just the acronym made John's stomach drop. He hadn't heard that in a very long time. And the emotions he already associated with it, even without the beatings, were bad enough.
"Your wife betrayed them. Betrayed my dad. He was tortured to death because of her."
Through the pain, John fought to recall anything Mary might have said to him before about this. The process was painful enough. Though, there were so many secrets, so many lies, that John couldn't even be sure if her stories were true.
"No? Nothing?" The man drew closer now. The gun was still in his hand, dangling from his palm.
John waited. Slowly, he rose to his feet, using the wall behind him as support. The man just chuckled to himself. This was his first mistake.
John flexed his fingers. Then, rather unexpectedly, his fist connected with the man's jaw. He staggered back but regained his footing, eyes misted with abhorrence. He ran to hold John against the wall, but he moved in time, instead twisting round to grab the man by the back of his neck.
He was strong, but John was stronger. John held him there, cheek against the brick wall. "You're insane."
"You must be," the man spat, "if you married her."
John couldn't help himself. He pulled the man's head back, and smashed it into the wall. He cried out, trying to reach for John, but he couldn't. John pinned his hands behind his back.
"I don't even know who you are!" John yelled in his ear. His vision was hazy, all he could feel was hatred. Hatred for this stranger, who somehow knew all about him, all about his wife. Who wasn't even alive.
"You will," he hissed. "Ask Mary about me. Ask her about my father."
John clenched his jaw. "She's dead."
The man's eyes widened, his black irises twinkling. “Ha!" He gasped.
John tightened his grip on his neck, but the man only winced. He grit his teeth so hard he thought they would shatter. Everything that had been filling his thoughts was gone now - all he could see, all he could register, was this disgusting man.
John wanted to kill him.
The man grinned with bloody teeth. “Though, I wish I could’ve done it myself.”
Something inside of John snapped. His breathing quickened, heart thrumming in his ear.
The man’s head met the wall. Again. And again.
The noises he made filled John’s ears - he hadn’t known, then, that he’d hear those screams for the rest of his life.
John didn’t stop. Not when the wall was splattered with blood, not when a trickle of the slick red stuff tumbled down his face, staining John’s coat. Not when the man went limp in his hand.
John’s chest heaved; his head buzzed with static so loud he couldn’t hear the words the man was spluttering out. John fought to focus, to read his lips:
“I’ll say hi to her in Hell.”
John let go. The man slumped into a bloody heap on the floor, breathing rattling breaths. John tried not to look at what he had done - the man’s nose was a crimson pulp on his fractured face. The wall was stained with John’s actions. His choices.
John once said to Sherlock, a long, long time ago: “I’ve seen men die before. I thought I’d never sleep again—“
John raised his foot, and brought it down, hard, on the man’s face. The heavy breathing ceased. His eyes slowly glazed over, gaping at the scattered-salt sky. John had seen this look before. More times than he could count.
“—I’ll sleep fine tonight.”
END OF CHPT. i
#bbc sherlock#sherlock holmes#sherlock bbc#johnlock#john watson#sherlock fandom#sherlock fanfic#sherlock x john#fanfic#hurt/comfort#angst#angst with a happy ending#tw violence#tw injury#mild smut#substance abuse#sherlock’s addiction#mary watson#parentlock#fluff#tumblr fanfiction#john is emo#biblically accurate sherlock
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literally thinking about stanked! randy for absolutely no reason but i keep thinking how interesting it would be if he had gotten temporarily corrupted by the Sorcerer’s power balls
i’m down to ramble about it tomorrow hahaha if anyone’s curious- so literally any interaction with this would make me want to talk about it again
#randy cunningham 9th grade ninja#rc9gn#randy cunningham#stanked! randy is eating at my brain right now oops#rc9gn au#canon divergent#what am i even doing right now?#rc9gn randy#destiny rambles#this is pure chaos that i want to write apparently#but seriously stanked! randy could be very interesting#mild angst#angst with a happy ending#that’s what i’m envisioning at least#howard has to destank him
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Marigolds don’t taste like honey || Bakugou x GN!Reader
Prompt: Reader catches hanahaki disease for Bakugou. Will he figure it out before it's too late?
This is my first real completed fanfiction work. Please be nice. I tried to make this gender neutral and non discriminate so everyone can enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcomed. No beta so if there are mistakes please let me know. Thank you and enjoy.
Warning: Angst, happy ending, mentions of blood, near death experiences, self-sacrificing behavior, oblivious boys, tears and cursing.
Word count : 5.5k
Read this on AO3 as well
--------------------------
You and Katsuki had been friends for exactly 7 years, 11 months and 29 days.
You were on the verge of spending 8 years by the side of the rudest, self-centered, egotistical megalomaniac and could not think of any other way you would have rather spent your time. Because no matter how much Katsuki pushes your buttons, it's hard to hate the love of your life. And it’s moments like today that make you realize just how gone you are for your best friend.
You glanced around at the pieces of marigolds scattered around and the splotches of blood that stained your favorite Dynamight graphic tee as you gaze at the last few moments of the sunrise over the horizon. You reached your hand up and brushed against the trunk of the tree that had been here for years. Childish scratches had been carved into the trunk.
Katsuki + (Y/n)
Well…at least he won’t be alone. You looked at the brightening sky one last time and whispered your final goodbye as the heaviness in your body finally caught up with you, closing your eyes to the sound of firecrackers in the distance.
___________
A day ago…
“Mina, I really don't think this is a good idea.” You threw yourself onto the bed inside your apartment, suppressing the urge to hide inside the closet and never see the light of day again.
“(Y/n), think how romantic it would be for you to confess to Bakugou on the anniversary of the day you guys became friends. I can't think of a more adorable get together story.” you could hear Mina swooning over the phone at the thought of how picturesque that moment would be in theory. However, in reality, that is probably the furthest thing from the truth that could happen.
“You mean how suicidal it would be to confess to an emotionally constipated man that could kill me without a second thought,” you moaned in frustrastion. “We’ve been friends for forever and I would hate to ruin the years of trust built into that bond over a stupid crush.”
You got off the bed and started to head to the small kitchen down the hall for a glass of water. They could feel the start of a sore throat beginning, maybe karaoke night with Mina and Denki wasn’t the best idea in hindsight.
“But it isn’t stupid, you won’t ever know if those feelings are reciprocated if you never give it the chance.” Mina was a sweetheart, really, but when it came to matters of the heart, her approach tended to lean more towards the hopeless romantic side of things. You could tell she meant well and maybe she was right, Kats might feel the same way.
Or he could hate her for even suggesting such a thing. Honestly there is a 50/50 chance here.
“Maybe you’re right Mina, I'll go see if he wants to hangout after patrol next week and maybe I will have the courage to confess by then.” You continued to take some more sips of your water. Geez, I might have to grab some cough drops. The tickle in your throat seemed to get a little worse with the addition of the water. you feel the phone vibrate on your face, indicating an incoming message.
BoomBoomBoy:
Hey idiot, I left my lunch in my fridge so I have to order takeout. I’m getting some curry from the place on 50th, and I don’t want to hear your fucking complaining about how I ate it without you. Meet me in my office in an hour.
“Speaking of the devil, he just demanded I spend his lunch with him so I gotta head to the office now. Maybe I'll be able to ask him to -” You began to cough very hard, as if there was something stuck in the back of your throat. “Sorry Mina, I think I'm coming down with something, but I am going to start getting ready now.”
“No problem, I hope you feel better, and remember even if he says no, there's still a place for you in my heart.” you loved Mina, truly. They hung up the phone and left to get ready to eat lunch with Bakugou, not noticing the three flower petals lying precariously next to the glass of water.
___________
At the office…
You march your way into the building, past the receptionist and into the elevator that was specifically reserved for Midoriya and Katsuki. You pressed the button for the top floor. As the numbers on the screen begin the increase, signaling your ascent to his office, you couldn’t help but feel a heaviness weighing in your stomach. This is the kind of confession that could change the course of your life. You and Katsuki had been friends for so long and much of your lives were ingrained with each other’s presence. Movie and dinner nights when he was free from patrol, quick lunch outings when he couldn’t get away from the office, quiet brunches at the coffee shop when you were having trouble sleeping or when work got too stressful. He was a pillar in your life that you didn’t think you could afford to lose.
The elevator rang, notifying you that you had finally made it to your desitination. You walk briskly down the hall to your left, hoping to not lose your nerve. As you get closer to Katsuki’s office you can hear the gruff rumbles of his voice through the walls.
“Of course I don’t know what to fucking do Shitty Hair, i’ve never been great at this type of shit.” Bakugou sounded very frustrated with the topic of conversation. You start to slightly open the door, aiming to signal your entrance, just in case this was a sensitive topic. However, before you could peep your head around, the next words that tumbled from his math stopped you in your tracks.
“You know it’s not that fucking simple, dumbass. I can’t just tell them how I fucking feel. I think I might actually love them- No, I know I fucking love the shit out of them and I can’t do anything about it.” There was a slight pause where you assumed Kirishima was answering him. “FUCKING FINE!” He lowered his tone, “I’ll talk to them tonight about it and see, but if this shit doesn’t work and I lose her, you're gonna wish I had killed your ass.” His voice had sounded more serious than you had ever heard him before. Even more than when he had declared that he would stop at nothing to be Number One.
I felt something drop on your hand, and looked down. Water was dripping from your hand. You quickly touched your face…no that wasn't water. You had started to shed tears and didn’t realize it. You released the door like it was on fire and ran to the nearest restroom.
Katsuki is in love…
You grasp at the edges of the sink as you try to coach yourself to breathe. You glanced up at the mirror and grimaced at the puffiness of your face and the redness of your eyes. Grabbing some paper towels you start to wipe your face with some cold water to try and salvage your demeanor before you have to go back. As you finally get cleaned up and start fixing yourself to head back out the door, a sudden wave of dizziness starts to overtake you. You lean over the sink and begin to hack and cough as if something was lodged within the back of your throat. Little splatters of blood began to cover the white porcelain sink and you watched yourself in horror as little by little, bunches of yellow petals began to litter the rest of the sink. When you had finally finished with your coughing fit, you looked at the sick. In utter despair you fell to your knees at the sight of 3 rather large marigold flowers on top of the pile of petals.
Katsuki is in love… and it's going to fucking kill me.
___________
You finally were able to manage and get yourself together enough to exit the bathroom. Bless whoever has to clean up that mess. You shakily made your way to the frosted glass door labeled: DYNAMIGHT. You slowly knock on the door, interrupting Katsuki’s current conversation.
“I ALREADY TOLD YOU FUCKING EXTRAS THAT IM TAKING MY LUNCH AND TO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” his voice bellowed throughout the hallway, bouncing off the walls. You opened the door anyway and peeked your head in the door. Bakugou sat upright at his desk and hurriedly hung up the phone, not even bothering to tell Kirishima goodbye. You resist the urge to not feel offended as he laid his eyes on you. His features visibly softened as he recognized who had knocked on his door and graced you with a wide and vicious smirk.
“Hey shortcake, what took you so fucking long?” To an untrained eye, he looked as if he had been waiting for you to come this entire time. But you could tell, outside of walking in on his earlier discussion, the slight sheen on his forehead, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his desk and the shakiness behind his shit-eating smirk very much signaled that he was nervous about something and DID NOT want to talk about it. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest.
“Hey Firecracker, what are you up to?” You secretly hoped that he would clear up the fog of confusion in your brain. You’re his best friend, he told you everything. The day that he thought about leaving Endeavor’s agency and starting his own, he spent the night with you planning out everything to get started. The nightmares he had about the LOV, were comforted by you. You were there for everything, and as much as it would pain you, there’s no way you wouldn’t be there for this.
“Absolutely nothing, just dealing with some goddamn PR nightmare. Some dumb shit about my image not being too great.” Your heart dropped. He had lied to you. He lied to you. He LIED to you. Katsuki is in love with some women and didn’t even plan to tell me about it. Your shaky smile dropped fiercely, but you quickly recovered and attempted to give another smile but only managed a bleak grimace. Bakugo, mistaking that look as a response to his answer, gestured for you to come and sit at his desk with him. His usual client chair was replaced with a comfortable armchair in anticipation of your visit. He knew that the chair was unbearingly uncomfortable on purpose to make his clients uneasy in his presence but switches it out for something more comfortable when you visit him.
“Come sit the hell down shortstack.” He had also taken to calling you aggressively affectionate names after a small incident in which you yelled at him that calling you a ‘dumbass idiot’ all the time wasn’t the most friendly experience. Thus these ‘sweet’ insults were formed.
You walked your way over to his desk, why he had it at the absolute other end of the room still astounded you but you’re starting to believe everything about his office was an intimidation tactic. Usually it doesn't bother you but after the events that just occurred, it starts to nip at your nerves, leaving you a little unsteady. Once you had made it to your designated chair, you were shocked to see that in place of the mediocre curry that you were expecting from Mrs Lee’s cute little curry shop down the street, Katsuki had placed you very beautifully made bento boxes on his desk. The smell of his signature curry wafts up your nose and you look at him in confusion. He gave a slight smile in response.
“You really think I’d feed you shit that wasn’t the best, huh?” He raised his eyebrow in question. “You know know my food is the fucking best, and I don’t settle for anything less than perfection.” And while those words would usually send your heart soaring at the gesture that is so unapologetically Katsuki Bakugou, you couldn’t help but feel a faint pang in your heart at those words and you feel your throat start to close up just a bit. You gave a strained smile back at him. “Damn Kats, you didn’t have to do that. How am I supposed to hold up my end of this friendship if you’re always trying to one up me?”
“You’re not. I’m the fucking best.You can’t compete with me.” He looked at you proudly, as if he was pleased that he could do shit like this and leave you feeling swept off your feet. You sat down in your chair, feeling a little lighter than when you came in. You both began to quietly dig in, but you could still feel the nervous energy radiating off him in waves. You glanced up at him and noticed that he was already staring right at you.
You blinked at him, “Suki are you okay?” you gently grabbed the hand that was still tapping away at the edge of the desk. That was the name reserved for the softest of moments, when he knows you're genuinely concerned.
He blinked back, shaking his head and gave you back a shaky smirk. “Yeah, just going through a lot of shit at work, but we’re not here to talk about that bullshit. We’re here to enjoy a nice lunch by yours truly. So don’t worry your pretty little head, ya little ankle biter.” He ruffled the hair on top of your head. You swatted his hand away, and he gave a deep chuckle as you attempted to readjust your hair back to its original state. You spent a lot of time looking presentable… not that you’d be able to do what you planned to do anyways.
“I got a couple of things to do after work today but I’m coming over tonight.” Bakugou had a way of inserting himself in your life without asking but knew when he was welcomed. You were sad. Would he go confess his love tonight and tell you in the aftermath? Am I the asshole if I tell him to fuck off? You shook the thoughts away. “Okay, i’ll pick out some movies then.” You hate your life sometimes.
“Not any of that psychological thriller shit either, can’t get a good night's sleep after that.” He frowned at the thought.
“All Might’s new documentary is out.” You suggested, knowing that he couldn’t resist seeing his hero. His eyes lit up. “Now you’re talking, tiny.” You finished your lunch in companionable silence.
___________
Home…
Once you made it through your apartment door, you raced to the toilet. The next several hours were spent in a pattern of throwing up bloody golden petals and researching the hell out of what you hoped you weren’t experiencing. You stared at your phone.
WebMD
Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病) : a disease in which the patient coughs up flower petals when they suffer from a one-sided love. It can end when the object of thier affections returns thier affections (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It may be cured through surgical removal, but with the infection goes all romantic feelings for thier beloved.
No.Fucking.Way.
What the hell does WebMD know? I need a medical professional, because I can’t possibly be going through the dumbest shit in history. You call up Recovery Girl, having gained a more personal relationship with her during your time in UA. She was able to make some room for you in her schedule.
When you made it to her office, she was already set up and waiting for you. You made your way over to the medical bed and began to explain what was going on as she checked your vitals. When you mentioned the pile of petals that began to appear seemingly overnight, she looked at you with a horror stricken appearance. It did not look comforting. She confirmed your self-diagnosis, it was Hanahaki and you were in the final stages.
“Oh dearie,” she paused with a heavy sigh, “I can have you scheduled for the surgery in three days. You’d have to avoid whoever it is until then, or risk furthering your condition even more, and considering you’re in the final stages already you’d be facing a fatal end.” She hung her head and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Everything will be oka-
“I don’t want the surgery.” You said it before thinking, but you were sure about your decision. Losing feelings for Katsuki, means losing everything they had built over the past almost eight years. They’ve been through so much together and you’d be damn to have to lose it all now. You looked at her in a false determination. “I’m going to talk to him. There’s gotta be something we can do. I refuse to take the easy way out here.”
She tried to stop you as you began to collect all your things and head to the door. “But dear, if you confess and he doesn’t return those affections then you could die.” She looked as if the room might collapse on her at any moment. She had grown fond of you in the past few years you’ve known each other and would hate to see you risk your life. You shook your head and walked out the door, missing the small tear that ran down Recovery Girl’s face.
“Young Mr. Bakugou better realize his feelings for them before it's too late.”
___________
As you pulled back into your apartment complex, the panic and reality of the situation had started to settle in your mind. You began to hyperventilate. How the hell are you going to save yourself and your friendship? Can I really hope for the best and confess? Even if I don’t, I still have to explain the gravity of the situation. Would it be delusional to hope that maybe Kat’s mystery girl was me? You started to feel a little hope in the pit of despair you call your heart.
You were greeted on your own front door steps by the man in question. Katsuki Bakugou stood firmly in front of your door with bags in his arms, irritation on his face and knuckles poised to knock fiercely again. “OPEN THE DAMN DOOR, (Y/N)! I KNOW YOU HEAR ME FUCKING CALLING YOU.”
You rushed to his side and grabbed his hand, nerves sparking at the touch. “Don’t burn my door down, you damn spitfire. I just went out real quick. Geez, you’re so impatient.” You open the door to let you both in, he makes his way straight to the kitchen. Placing his overnight bag by your door and the snacks he bought in the living room. Throwing his jacket on the coat rack, he made himself at home on your couch, scrolling to the All Might Documentary scheduled to come on.
“You know I hate waiting, it's not like I was worried about your ass or anything.” What you didn’t manage to catch was the small blush on his upper cheeks at his behavior as he faced away from you and fiddled with the TV remote.
Once you go and get comfortable, you make your way onto the couch right beside him. This was a common occurrence between the two of you. Days when you both were free from responsibilities and work, you’d cuddle up on the couch and binge whatever TV trash was on today while sipping on some handmade cocktail Katsuki had made for the two of you. They were always good and ALWAYS strong. It was a nice distraction from the woes of everyday life, which was particularly helpful on days like today.
Before you were even aware, you’d both fallen into easy conversation, drinks were flowing and it had begun to reach further into the night before you had gained the confidence to finally have a conversation with him. You both stared at each other, a moment of silence had passed, and then you both opened your mouth.
“I need to talk-”
“I have a question-”
You both stopped and blushed in embarrassment at the moment. You swallowed your nerves and let him go first.
“So (y/n),” he never really says your given name unless it's urgent. He swallows hard. “There’s been something that i’ve been meanin to talk to ya about. I’m not really sure how you’ll take it but it’s important that you understand that I would never want to hurt ya, and your friendship means the absolute fucking world to me.” He gets a little choked up. “Um..there’s this girl ya see… and i kinda like the little shit but i’ve just been uh… a little too distracted to talk to her. It’s not because I'm nervous or any dumb shit like that… just a little overwhelmed with some things. But tonight is the night im gonna tell ‘er.” He was breathing a little too heavy as if these were dying words. “(Y/n), I really fucking like - no im in love with-”. His dialogue was discontinued by a loud ringing sound coming from his phone. He looked really frustrated at the interruption. He picked up his phone and glanced at the caller. You were only able to glean the name from the top of the phone before you swiped right on the caller and looked at you - Round Cheeks.
“Sorry, (y/n) - fuck, i really need to take this right now. Just hold on a sec.” He raced to the spare room and closed the door.
You sat on the couch frozen. You weren’t sure how to feel. You were almost sure you had a chance at this, but from what it sounds like…you’ve been friendzoned pretty hard. For fucking Uraraka. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. The blood rushing to your face at the utter embarrassment you would’ve just made of yourself had you confess your feelings for this man. This man who valued you as a friend, and apparently nothing more. Your chest started to feel constricted. Your airways are closing. You were overcome with several emotions all at once. Anger, jealousy, despair and of course… fear. You were gonna die unless you got that surgery.
He exited the bedroom, looking very relieved and almost… happy. You guess the phone call went well. He walked in big strides to your side and grabbed your hands. They were sweaty like always, it was one of the things you had always liked about him, no matter how self-conscious it made him. You both stared into each other's eyes. You could feel the oncoming signs of another floral arrangement, and if he said those fatal words to you, you didn’t know if you’d be able to take it. He started to open his mouth again, but before he could finish his thought, you stopped him in his tracks.
“Hey Katsuki, i don’t think i’m feeling too well. Could we maybe raincheck for another day. I think i’m going to be sick.” You start to clean up the snack wrappers from the living room. He immediately looked concern.
“If you’re feeling sick, munchkin, then let me help ya.” He started to walk away to maybe make some soup or grab medicine like he always does, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted him to go.
“No, Katsuki, I think I'm all good here by myself. I’ll just go to the doctor’s tomorrow.” You hated turning him away, but it was for both of your own goods.
“What the hell is up with ya, shorty?” He was starting to get frustrated. Why won’t you let him help? “Just let me take care of ya.” He walked over to your side where your back was turned towards him. He grabs your arm and turns you around. You were crying.
“NO, BAKUGOU! I'M GOOD JUST LEAVE!” You shrugged his hands off you and headed towards the door. He was just making this harder for you, why couldn’t he just understand. He needed to go, the longer he stayed the sicker you felt, but when you looked him in the eyes, it broke down every defense you had, you couldn’t lose your feelings for this man. No surgery could stop these feelings.
“I'M NOT JUST GONNA LEAVE YOU HERE TO FIGHT THIS DAMN SICKNESS ALONE!” He just wanted to help you. He cared about you more than he wanted to admit, and you denying him was something he didn’t know how to take.
“Fine then,” You put your shoes on and grabbed your keys. You looked back at him as you put one foot out the door. “If you won’t leave then I will.” Maybe you were overreacting here but you couldn’t stand to stay there in that room with him, knowing that any second you’d cough up bloody marigolds and have to explain why you might die there in his arms. You closed the door behind you, coughing on your way out as you struggled to make your way to your car.
___________
Bakugou wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. One minute he was enjoying the only real piece of comfort he had in this world, and now he stared at a closed door as the love of his life walked out on him. Confusion settled in his stomach.
What the absolute fuck just happened? He replayed all the events of tonight's festivities. You guys were finally watching that All Might documentary that he had been putting off for ages just to watch with you. You were both a little tipsy but the atmosphere was light and fun. You looked so beautiful. Your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, and you stuffed your face with chips, not worrying about how you might look. He loved that about you. The way you were unabashedly you, how you cared about him, how you seemed to love him. It was that moment that gave him the confidence to confess. He had to tell you now, there’s so much he wanted to do, to experience, to learn with you, and if he didn’t take those steps now, he might never take them. He steeled his nerves to tell you the truth of his heart, but before he could say those important words, Uraraka called.
Fucking round cheeks has the worst fucking timing. He had commissioned Uraraka and Kirishima to set something of a date up for the two of you, had this evening gone to plan. However, the plans were a bit time sensitive, given that your friendship anniversary was in two days, and he wanted everything to be perfect, this call was important. He swore he had only stepped out for two seconds to confirm the dinner reservation and the schedule swapping he did to ensure that no one would bother him for work duties that day.
When he stepped back out into the living room, he could feel a change in the atmosphere, but that wasn’t enough to deter him from talking to you. He walked towards you, butterflies in his whole body. He grabbed your hands. They were soft. Comforting. Just like you. But before he could express these thoughts to you, everything went to shit.
You were sick, you usually were after a few too many drinks but never this early in the night. He went to grab your tylenol from the medicine cabinet, he couldn’t resist the urge to take care of you. Especially, when that’s all you’ve ever done for him. He’s gone through a lot to be the man he is today, and a majority of that he owes to your too-kind-for-your-own-good nature. But today you didn’t want his help, you wanted him to leave, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
He sat on your couch, confused about what to do now.
Maybe I should call Shitty Hair, it was his dumb fucking idea anyway. He looked around for his phone but couldn’t find it. He walked past the front door, where he saw you had dropped your phone in your haste to leave. He looked at the time 5:36 AM.
The sun is about to fucking rise and their out there, god knows where, sick to thier goddamn stomach. What the hell am I doing? I need to go find them.
He was about to grab his jacket when he caught a missed call and voicemail from Recovery Girl. He knew you two were pretty close, especially after all the time you spent by his side in the infirmary. He clicked on the voicemail, it must’ve been important if she left a voicemail.
“Hello dearie, I hope this doesn’t reach you too late. I did some analysis on your bloodwork after you left so I could see if there were some more options for you. Unfortunately, it seems as if you have contracted a very rare form of Hanahaki Disease. This particular form takes place over a 24 hour period and only allows you that time frame to find a cure. I’m not sure when you first started to develop signs but it is imperative that you give me a call right away.”
Bakugou dropped the phone from his hands. Hanahaki Disease? The fucking love disease? You had fallen in love? And with some dumbass idiot who didn’t feel the same way?
How dare that bastard not love you? You were perfect. You were kind, caring and smart. You didn’t take anyones bullshit and you stood by those you love. Now you were god knows how long away from fucking dying and there was nothing he could do?
No. There was something he could do. He could find you and make this right. Even if you didn’t love him the way he loved you, you didn’t deserve to die over it. You deserved to be happy. He was going to make sure that fucking happened. Bakugou grabbed the door but was met with a wet sensation. There was blood on the door, and a trail of yellow petals greeted him from the door to the parking lot.
Fuck…I hope im not too late. He jumped in the air and began to search for your figure. You didn’t make it far. Your car was haphazardly parked on the side of the park that you two often frequented together. You were laying by the tree that you two had carved your names in years ago. His heart seized at the sight of so much blood and flowers that surrounded you.
He landed by your side. Two fingers pressed against your throat. You were barely breathing. He had to get you out of here.
“Shit, wake up shortcake.” His voice sounded teary. “We gotta find the bastard that did this to ya. I’ll make him pay” He started to pick you up.
You roused a bit from the noise. You had to be dreaming. Bakugou stood over you. The rising sun shining behind him, giving him a golden glow. You smiled.
What a way to go. You raised your hand up to his cheek. Blood smears across his cheek. Even though he wasn’t real, it couldn’t hurt to lift this heaviness off your shoulders. You locked eyes with him and croaked out your last words.
“I’m sorry for loving you, ‘Suki. You mean the world to me and I wish I could’ve told you.”
Bakugou froze in his panicked state. You loved him? Then why the fuck were you dying? Of course he loved you too. How could he not.
He grabbed you by the face. “Don’t you ever dare be sorry for loving me, because I’m sure the hell not.” He pressed his lips to yours so brutally, you’d think he was waging a war on your face.
The suffocating feeling in your chest lifted itself so quickly as if it had never been there. You could breathe again.The feeling of being on death’s door had miraculously disappeared, and against all odds you had lived. You had lived because Katsuki loved you and you loved him back.
Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and you wrapped your arms around him.
“I love you so much Katsuki.”
“I love you too (Y/n). Now let's get your ass home, and into some clean clothes. I can’t let my girl get sick for real.” He quickly lifted you off the ground, not giving you a chance to voice your protests. But you’d gladly be in his arms forever.
#mha#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#x reader#hanahaki#angst#happy ending#blood#friends to lovers#near death experience#fluff and angst#hanahaki disease#self sacrifice#oblivious#tears#mild cursing#bakugo#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x you
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