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bunkerbucky · 4 years ago

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Casual Sabotage *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Reader is hit with sex pollen. Except she doesn't crave her boyfriend, Steve Rogers. No, it's his best friend, Bucky Barnes, that she wants inside of her. Bucky, in the beginning, is a good bro and refuses. But due to the fact she sucks his dick so good he kinda, sorta, loses that restraint and just fucks her regardless of who she belongs to.

Rating: Explicit [+18]

Warnings: Sex pollen= Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Rough blow-job, rough oral-sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, breeding kink, size kink- Bucky has a big dick in this lmao, choking and biting kink, infidelity; Reader cheats on Steve.

TW: Dub-con- Reader is under sex pollen, so she actually cannot give consent and also because Bucky is so resistant in the beginning. It turns consensual on Bucky's part, he gives in to the temptation. But, obviously, reader is still influenced so... the lines are blurred.

Yourself and Bucky had searched the Hydra base from tippy-top to bottom. There was nothing out of the ordinary, which infuriated you a little. With the amount of recon work you both had to do, the long nights of watching the agents coming and going, you felt like you both deserved a small win, at least.

A long sigh escaped from your lips as Bucky's fingers typed furiously on the computers keyboard, a USB stick in hand just in case he found something exciting. Your arms were crossed over your chest, eyes scanning around the bases' security room, roaming the shelves and cabinets that held nothing of importance. A week of nothing, you wanted to cry.

"Hmm," Bucky low hum attracted your attention, "It says there's a basement to this building, we haven't checked that out." His steel eyes look over the screen and at you, you respond with a shrug of your shoulders. "We've got two hours before the cavalry arrives to pick us up, let's explore and see if we can obtain something to keep from Rogers from complainin'"

You giggle slightly at Bucky's comment, nodding in agreement with him. Steve would have a lot to say if you went back empty-handed, especially since he sent you both rather than himself. But you couldn't lie and say the thought of seeing Steve after so long didn't excite you. You had missed your boyfriend dearly, you weren't allowed on missions together since finally making things official. Work ethics and all that jazz.

Instead, you and Bucky had started to partner up, Steve didn't trust anyone but himself, and Bucky, to keep an eye out for you. Who better to watch over his best girl than his best friend, plus Bucky was your friend before you got with Steve.

"What if we go down there and there's a great, big monster waiting for us?" Sliding into the small elevator beside Barnes.

Bucky looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, "Then I'll be throwing you out as a distraction, so I can press the elevator door button to leave."

You both ended up laughing at his response, although when the doors finally did open and reveal a darkened basement layer... there was a moment of silence, you both side-eyeing one another at the lack of sound and movement.

Bucky stepped off first and the automatic lighting triggered him to pull his gun from its holster, his reflexes sharp and fast. You step off and follow Bucky down the hall towards double doors, the room through those doors was abandoned and huge. Desks with old computers, all smashed and out of use. Stacks of files and paper scattered on desks and the floor. Despite the mess, it all looks really promising, there had to be something amongst the chaos.

You both separate to cover more ground, you only had a limited time before you had to leave. You looked through paper and files, shuffling through stacks of meaningless bullshit. Hydra certainly kept a record of everything, including all the worthless crap. You wondered if they actually printed this stuff to lead you guys on wild goose chases like this, to make sure you were distracted with searching for something important amongst all their bullshit.

You ended up in the far back of the room, a small desk area had random empty vials littered across it. Files labelled in Russian, that you couldn't translate very well.

"Hey, Buck," You called over your shoulder as you lifted an empty vial, a cork tightly shoved in the top; curious. "Think I might've found something."

The vial itself was black, not black liquid, the vial was just black. It didn't feel weighted, it didn't feel like anything was moving inside of it. So, curiosity got the best of you because you yanked the cork off the vial. Black smoke puffed out and into your face causing you to inhale and go into a coughing fit. Waving your arms in front of your face, coughing at the inhalation of whatever was inside that vial.

It smelt like... old leather, peppermint toothpaste and...something else, like a deep musk. Odd.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bucky suddenly appeared at your side, a hand placed on your back and eyeing you with concern. He then grabbed the vial from your hand, it was clear and no longer black. "What happened?"

Your coughing had subsided, you felt fine. "I think there was some kind of smoke or whatever in there, I don't know. The black stuff just burst out, I was stupid-"

"Damn, right." Bucky looked mad, which was a given. "Hydra is known for making gas poisons, Y/N. That was a rookie move, never open strange vials." He didn't sound too mad at you, a little more concerned and worried.

You nodded, frowning when feeling the back of your neck sweating. You felt... hot. A sweat was taking over your body, your mouth was getting dry and your mind was going fuzzy. Bucky hadn't noticed, his eyes cast down to the Russian files on the desk, his hand flipping through the old pages and taking the information in with wide eyes. You briefly wondered if whatever is written in that file had anything to do with that vial.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered.

"What?" Your throat was scratchy, your breathing was becoming laboured and your palms were sweaty.

You didn't feel hot, though. You didn't feel sick either.

"Well, I'm guessing whatever was in that vial was... to put it plainly, sex pollen. It makes the patient unable to think of anything but sex, all they want and all they feel is lust. It's basically either used to breed or on prisoners- the pain of not getting off thoroughly enough can lead to the patient taking extreme measures: death." He shakes his head, you don't notice the horrified look In his eyes at the thought of maybe it being used on him when under Hydra's control. "You're likely fine, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure," You managed to gasp out, your thighs squeezing together and eyes closed, you wanted to feel embarrassed but you couldn't. "My head is spinning and, fuck, I need to get this off. I feel too hot, I'm burnin' up." Clawing at the collar of your own tact suit, your hands were shaking and you couldn't bring yourself to look at Bucky.

You wanted to look at him though. You knew he was standing close to you because you could smell him, he smelt like the black smoke did. He smelt delicious, intoxicating in the best way. God, you wanted him so badly. You needed him.

"It's going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, we'll get you back to Steve and he can-"

You shook your head and finally pulled the zipper down of your jacket, shrugging the bulletproof material off your shoulders.

"Need you." You managed to mumble out, lifting your gaze to Bucky, who was frowning and shaking his head. "Please, Buck. I need you! I can feel my skin crawling and-I'm in so much pain, please." Your voice a mix between a whine and beg.

"I can't- you're not thinking properly. Steve will be here soon and he can help you, he's your boyfriend, remember?"

You pulled the black, tight sleeved henley from your body and let it drop to the floor, it covered in sweat. You're standing in a sports bra and tact pants, chest heaving as you try to intake gulps of oxygen from your panting. Even with half your clothes off you still felt sweat bead and drip down your skin.

"I can't wait that long," You sniffled but no tears forming. "Please, I want you-I've always wanted you. You read the file, I'm going to die!"

Bucky continued to shake his head. "I won't do that Steve. It says that it took a couple of hours till that point, Steve'll be here soon and I'll explain to him what happened."

You groaned painfully, shaking your own head now. Not understanding why he couldn't just help you now. You were in immense pain and the throbbing heat in your core wasn't letting up.

You didn't want Steve to help you. You didn't need Steve to help you, it wasn't just because he wasn't here. You wanted Bucky. The smell of him, the heat radiating off his body when it was close to yours. You craved for him to touch you, to fuck you. You were sure the moment he touched you that the pain would ease, the flames that were consuming you would simmer down.

And you were certain that he wanted you too.

Taking the initiative you moved closer to Bucky, the short hairs on the back of your neck were drenched in sweat, you could feel it drip down your back. You placed a hand softly on his metal arm, the cool vibranium instantly cooling you down. Bucky let out a shaky breath and looked at you, eyebrows furrowing together as he took in your features. You were sure you could see the fight in his eyes, he wanted to help you. To touch you.

It was frustrating that he wasn't giving in. That he wasn't falling to his desires.

"I won't tell Steve, I promise." You whispered and pressed a kiss to his collar, inhaling his scent and shuddering when it filled your senses. He wasn't pushing you away, but he also wasn't giving in to touching you back. "It can be our little secret. I know you'll make me feel really good, he won't be able to help me like you can."

Her other hand trailed down his chest and stopped at his belt, Bucky was too busy telling her everything he had already been saying. Telling you how you love Steve and Steve loves you. It would break Steve's heart if he found out about this talk from you if he knew what you were saying to Buck. You didn't care, not right now anyway. You had always found Bucky attractive and before getting with Steve you had entertained the thought of Bucky, but he was just getting back his life. A relationship seemed too much for him, well that's what you thought.

You didn't settle for Steve, that was never the case. You love Steve, you know that. But, right now, here with Bucky, you knew that he'd be able to help you with this- more than Steve could. Steve was a peaceful lover, an attentive one. You needed this illness fucked out of you- at least, that's what your hazy brain was telling you.

Your hand slipped under his belt, a wide grin taking over your face at Bucky's shock, words choking out as you wrapped a hand around his dick. A sense of pride coming over you as he began to get hard in your hand, a few quick jerks as started to undo his pants with your free hand. Bucky was stunned into silence and compliance, unable to stop you just from the fact he hadn't been touched like this in a while.

He came to his senses when you noticed you get to your knees, his pants undone and pulled down his muscular thighs. Bucky slapped your hands away and tries to pull his pants back up, but you were putting up quite the fight. You roughly pushed him back, he ended up falling to the ground due to his pants restricting his movements. In the moments he fell down and was trying to figure out what happened, you had pulled down his boxers and gulped dryly at his semi-hard length.

"You're so big," You mumbled before wrapping your lips around the tip, a loud groan echoed through the room from Bucky.

You could feel him growing inside of your mouth as you tried to take more of him down, slobbering up his dick and licking around the shaft. Pulling off to run your tongue around the veins and down to his balls, gently suckling them into your mouth as you jerked his length till it was fully standing erect. You smirked to yourself at all of the noises Bucky was making, a hand being placed on your hair- which normally you hated Steve's hand in your hair, but you'd allow Bucky this time.

"Fuck my throat," spit was around your mouth and down your chin, "fuck my throat with your big cock."

Bucky's eyes were wide and lust-filled, there was still a hesitancy from him. A dilemma going on in that head of his, so you wrapped your lips around his cock again and started to slowly take him down. He was bigger than Steve, so much bigger, but that only spurred you on. You wanted him to roughly fuck your throat, you wanted to feel him at the back of your throat even after this.

You felt both his hands on your head... he started to push your head further down, the tip hit the back of your throat and you still hadn't taken all of him. He started to ease past your limitations, your eyes filled with tears as he stuffed your mouth impossibly full. Your lips stretched wide around his girth, he could feel your throat constrict around him and the slight gag you couldn't help because of how far he was down your throat.

"Fuck, so good." Bucky groaned lowly, eyes completely black and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You knew your panties were soaking, a slickness collecting on your thighs as you rubbed them together, the flimsy material of your underwear was sticking to you and making you rub yourself just to alleviate the friction. "I'll deal with your pussy in second, right now I'm going to fill this hole up."

It was like Bucky snapped, the trepidation he was feeling before was long gone. It was now replaced with this new Bucky, and you loved him.

He wasn't merciful when he started to thrust in and out of your mouth, his balls were slapping against your chin harshly. The grip in your hair was harsh as he pushed and pulled your head to meet his hard thrusts, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as he basically skull fucked you. Loud gagging sounds, your throat squeezing his cock as you fought for air, he only eased up when you looked like you were going to pass out. It was seconded worth of air before he repeated his onslaught, spit and cum was dribbling down your chin and onto your chest and sportsbra. Bucky kept his eyes on you, it made you shiver how he was looking at you.

Bucky didn't warn you when he was about to cum, instead, he held your head down, almost shoving his entire cock down your throat as loads of his cum spurted out and shot straight down your throat into your tummy. You hardly tasted his cum because of how far he was down your throat. He groaned as he came, swallowing thrusting his hips into your mouth as he milked his orgasm. He pulled you off his cock, it was still hard, thankfully.

He helped pull you to your feet then undressed you, roughly pulling the sports bra off your chest and yanking your pants down your legs. He ripped your panties to shreds and let the tattered pieces fall to the floor, his hungry gaze took in your shaking, naked form. Your thighs were glistening from your arousal and it was still leaking from your pussy, hardly any attention to it made you needy and wishing to be stuffed full.

"Turn around." The authority in his voice made you shiver.

You turned around and felt Bucky place a hand on your shoulder, bending you over the desk where you found the vial. The pieces of paper clinging to your sweaty skin and making you keen into his touch more. He kicked your feet further apart, a hand tickling the insides of your thighs and collecting your sweet juices. Expecting to feel fingers prodding around your entrance, instead, you felt a firm tongue lick from clit to fluttering hole, it dipping inside and collecting the juices wanting to leak out of you.

Your mouth fell open into a silent scream, his tongue was exploring so far into your pussy, his hands gripped your cheeks apart so he could push further inside of you. Tongue fucking you so roughly and expertly, your eyes almost went crossed out from the feeling. You didn't know you could be tongue fucked this good, but Bucky just lived to prove you wrong. The slurping sounds and moans from the man behind you, he lifted and bent your knee to rest on the table; opening you up further for his trained tongue.

"You're gonna have to let me have a taste of this everyday from now on, baby." Bucky groaned against your pussy, mouth closing around your clit as he sucked harshly, your mouths drowning out his own. "Taste so good," the tip of his tongue running figure eights on your engorged clit.

Bucky must've stayed between your legs for minutes, but it felt like hours. He pulled two back-to-back orgasms from you, only using his tongue. When he was done eating your pussy, he stood up and draped himself over your back, an arm wrapping around your neck as he breathed heavily into your ear. You could feel his cock nudge up against your pussy, sliding and coating himself in your juices.

"You ready for me?" You whined your response, trying to push yourself back against him but his arm tightened around your throat- not restricting your airflow. "Think your little pussy can take my dick, dolly?" You nodded in a rush, needing it inside of you otherwise you was going to die. "I've got you," The tip nudges against your entrance and began to push inside, the stretch was painful but welcoming. "Daddy's got you."

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the more he pushed his thick length in the more you moaned. He wasn't even half-way in when you started to babble about how he was too big for you, how he wouldn't fit inside of you. That only made Bucky want to prove you wrong, want to prove that you were made to take him. He started to thrust shallowly, rocking his length in and out of you, impaling you on him more whenever he pushed forward.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he stopped and remained inside of your tight, heat for a moment. Relishing in the way you were split open around his cock, your walls were spasming around him and he was having a hard time not cumming on the spot. You felt so tight, so warm and wet around him, suddenly envious that Steve got to have you all the time. But he was planning on ruining you, to make sure the next time you fucked Steve it wouldn't feel as good.

He was going to fuck you so hard, so deep that you'd be wishing Steve was this big.

"Hang on, baby." That was the only warning you got.

Bucky started to pummel inside of you, his thrusts were hard and fast, his cock was kissing your cervix. You really could only just lay there and take it, your mouth open as moans were ripped from you, eyes rolling back as he kept impaling his girth inside of you. He was hitting spots so deep you knew you'd be feeling him for days afterwards, you'd be walking with limp and sore, it was worth it.

The way he was fucking you, it was as if he had something to prove.

The sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts and groans right beside your ear. His arm around your neck, clenching and cutting your airflow off at times, had you cumming within seconds and he still didn't let up. He didn't stop and fucked you through your third orgasm.

Your mind was starting to come down from the pollen, the pain and fever you were feeling had gone. Replaced now with pleasure and pain, a mix you didn't think you were into but now couldn't get enough of. All you could think and feel was Bucky Barnes. This was no longer the effects of the pollen anymore, this was pure you and riding on the afterglow of Bucky fucking you like you needed.

"Harder." You mumbled through heavy pants, tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder.

A smirk crossed his features, metal arm holding your hip in a bruising grip. Complying with your order and snapping his hips hard into your heat, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back out and repeating. It causes your back to arch, pressing your pussy back against his thrusts with little mewls leaving your lips.

"Kiss me." You plead breathlessly.

Bucky doesn't falter with that demand either. Draping himself over your body again and pressing his plump lips against yours, the kiss is far more gentle than his thrusts, but it still has you moaning against him. He was kissing you like you was fragile, yet fucking you like you were some kind of sex toy that he was using just to jerk off into. It was making your head spin and your pussy needy for more.

"You gonna come again?" Bucky chuckled against your ear, you nodded sharply and cried in pleasure when he bit your shoulder, cumming on the spot when his teeth dug into your flesh. "Mm'good girl." He mumbled as he licked at the tender spot, you could feel his hips stuttering their pace.

"Cum in me." You grinned and he cursed lowly, eyes squeezing shut. "Want you to fill me up, daddy. Fuckin' fuck a baby into me, fill me up."

The arm around your neck was pulled away, hand splaying across your back as he started to thrust into you in tight, fast and hard thrusts. Using your body to seek his own pleasure now, you were biting your lip at the thought of him filling you up. Not even caring if he actually did knock you up, you needed his cum inside of you.

Bucky found his end after a few careful thrusts, warm ropes of his seed filling you up and then some, he filled you up so much that it started to seep out around his cock. He groaned at the mess he made inside of you, he carefully pulled out of your abused cunt to see your hole clenching, trying to keep his creamy load inside of yourself. He had to look away because if he kept staring he'd get hard again, he didn't think you could take another round or load.

You remained bent over the desk and trying to catch your breath, his human hand was rubbing comforting circles on your back. Before you or Bucky could say something a buzzing sound captured both of your attention, it was coming from Bucky's pant pocket. He left you to retrieve his phone, eyes scanning over the device for a moment before he looked at you.

"Steve is waiting at the extraction point for us," You nodded mutely and you both got dressed in mutual silence.

He helped you to look presentable, ignoring the fingerprint bruise on your hip and the obvious bite mark on your shoulder. You were unsure how to explain any of that to Steve, you were also unsure how to explain what happened to Bucky. Obviously, you had still had those feelings for him, right? Otherwise, you would have been able to wait for Steve, it was like all sense of self-control had left you and only Bucky remained in your mind.

As you both left the base in awkward silence, treking the five miles towards the extraction zone, you wondered if you would have craved for Bucky if you was with Steve. If after all this time it was Bucky and not Steve you wanted.

All you knew was that Bucky had ruined you. You could still feel the impression of him inside of you, the way he had so deliciously stretched you open and impaled you on him. The way he had roughly fucked your throat like it was nothing but a hole to get off into. He had fucked you, in more ways than one.

(Please, let me know what you think! I’m also taking requests too! Honestly, kinda wanna write a part 2 where Reader tries to have sex with Steve but fakes her orgasm just to go to Bucky... I’m a bad person, I just think Bucky would be better than Steve tbh lol~ Lilith)

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #steve rogers x reader

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zoethespiritwolf · 3 years ago

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Hi!

I don’t know if you’re taking requests right now. But I was wondering if I could request a Sokka x reader? She/her. I was thinking of a modern setting, but everyone still has their bending and y/n is a fire bender. So naturally Sokka and y/n start out as enemies but grow to be best friends, until one day y/n suddenly goes missing. The gaang does everything they can to look for their friend but Sokka is the one to take her disappearance the hardest. He admits to his friends that he has feelings for y/n. They find her alive a week later (you can pick where they find her). After she’s recovered Sokka finally tells her his feelings.

Sorry if it’s a weird requests. I just thought this might be an interesting storyline.

Hi! Yes, I do take requests, I just haven't been active lately due to various issues😅

This was actually a very interesting scenario, although a bit complicating, but still very fun to write.

I decided to change a few minor details and make into a two part miniseries, but regardless, I hope you enjoy it, anon! <3

Ps: part 2 will come soon

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(I unfortunately couldn't find the original artist. If you know who it belongs to, please, let me know, I'll credit them right away)

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I love her, damn it!

Part 1

Ship: Sokka x f!firebender!reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries and gun wounds, a bit of angst, but it ends well

Genre: angst-to-comfort

Fic type: scenario

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It had never meant to come to this. At least, that's what the members of Team Avatar thought when they managed to get themselves into this situation.

They had found that key information was stored at one of the heavily guarded military bases in the Fire Nation. Information that they needed to bring down the government and leader of said nation. Yet when they had successfully broken in by using their bending abilities and careful planning and managed to obtain the info, one of the previously knocked-out guards had woken up and set off the alarm.

However, that wasn't the worst of it. They had managed to bust out of the building itself but had yet to get past the borders.

"There!" Katara yelled out, pointing her finger towards a military jeep.

"Everyone get in!" Zuko yelled at the group as he turned back to use his firebending to hold back the soldiers along with (Y/n).

Both of them used their abilities to burn and block their attackers as others scrambled to get into the car, with Aang at the steering wheel.

"Get in you two!" Sokka yelled out to the two newly joined firebenders from the back of the car, shielding his face briefly with a stolen police shield when a bullet flew his way. "We have to go! NOW!"

Zuko and (Y/n) turned their attention to the others in the jeep before looking back in front of them to the defeated soldiers. The older boy then started sprinting off to the jeep while the girl stayed behind to look if they wouldn't be followed when they departed. Unfortunately for her, she could see more Fire Nation soldiers coming down the front corridor, holding either rifles or machine guns, some empty-handed which meant more firebenders.

"Start driving! I'll catch up to you!" (Y/n) yelled out to her teammates.

"Are you insane!? No!!" Sokka yelled back.

"God damn it! Listen to me for once Sokka!" the girl yelled back. "Start driving! If you don't, none of us will make it! GO!!!"

Sokka wanted to argue further but jolted forward when the jeep started working and driving away. Fortunately, he had caught himself at the edge of the doorway, his eyes turning back to the firebender he considered a former enemy and now rival.

The girl looked back and made eye contact with the sea-blue eyes of her rival. (Y/n) noticed how Sokka's brows were furrowed downwards and eyes blazed like the flames that only a few firebenders like Princess Azula could produce.

"How pretty they are," she noted to herself briefly before turning back to the soldiers in front of her, guns ready to shoot at them.

She pulled back her balled hand before thrusting it in front of her and releasing a large blast of flames at them, knocking most of the soldiers back. (Y/n) slightly rose to the toes and in a swift twirl turned the opposite direction and chased down her friends' jeep.

She didn't think about anything else, only Sokka's stretched-out hand. The girl willed her tired body to run faster after them and had already stretched out her hand in return before a sharp pain suddenly came from her calf.

Only then (Y/n)'s and Sokka's brains registered the gunshot. The boy propelled himself as much forward as he could before he would tumble out of the back completely trying to grasp her hand. But it missed, just barely, but missed regardless.

And once again, their eyes locked on each others. Both pairs widened in shock and horror as (Y/n) plummeted to the dirt path when her leg finally gave out.

The firebender could faintly hear the screams of her name from her friends over the deafening sound of her heartbeat in her ears. (Y/n) looked down at the source of her agony and saw that the bullet had indeed managed to get itself deep into her calf. And the longer the girl looked at it, the pain intensified.

She heard the clocking of guns and turned her gaze upwards to see that the soldiers had caught up to her and readied their guns. (Y/n) weakly raised her hand upwards and looked back in the direction she had been running only to see the stolen car driving further and further away.

"At least they made it," (Y/n) sighed as she thought of this.

The girl then felt her hand being seized and cuffed, as the soldiers yanked (Y/n) to her unsteady feet, making her grit her teeth together as to not release a scream of pain. She knew they would use it against her if she showed any weaknesses.

When they started to drag her into the base she had tried to escape, she glanced back down the road where her friends had taken off, not seeing the car anymore, only a black fading dot in the distance.

"At least they'll be safe," she girl thought before her view was obscured by the closing metal doors.

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"We have to turn back!" Sokka yelled at the front passengers of the car. "(Y/n)'s still out there! She could die!"

"We have to leave her, Sokka." Zuko replied tiredly, "We are too far away now. Besides, even if we did now turn around and drive back, what then? What's your plan? Busting back into the base full of heavily armed guards and firebenders and hope to magically find her?"

''YES!!" Sokka yelled, his brows further creasing downwards further by the second.

"Sokka, we won't make it," Katara reasoned as she turned to look back at her distressed brother, "we barely made it out ourselves. We can't go back. At least not now-"

"We escaped because she bought us time!" Sokka argued back, "We need to go back to her! We owe her for this!"

"Sokka, we'll get her back," Aang chimed in still driving the car, "but right now, we need to get somewhere safe so that we can clearly think of a way to rescue her."

Sokka stayed silent at this comment. Deep down he knew this, he knew more than anyone that they needed a plan to get her out and that they couldn't just bust her out with their abilities. But the urge to get her back near him, the fear that he might lose her and she would die because he wasn't fast enough, the things he hadn't yet said..

The water tribe boy slumped down the wall of the jeep and sighed dejectedly. He ran a hand through his done-up hair before hesitantly bringing it in front of him on his lap. It's the same hand that couldn't grab (Y/n) when he had the chance, and he hated that fact.

"You really love her," Toph murmured in astonishment beside him.

Sokka briefly looked at the blind girl beside him whose eyes were widened in genuine shock right at him. The boy opened his mouth to deny it, but the words got stuck in his throat, unable to come out. He then turned his gaze back at his hand in his lap and stared at it for a few seconds before murmuring back, although more to himself than to the others.

"Yeah, I do."

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Part 2

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka #sokka fanfic #x reader

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha)#takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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fandomvariousness · 4 years ago

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other Eren fics -> x

Pairing: Eren x reader

Warnings: implied violence, smut: slight dumbification, slight dub-con, exhibitionism

Summary: Eren gets jealous when he sees you with Jean. Very jealous.

Word count: 1.6k

It was just before the golden hour, some of you were still practicing in the shooting range outside.

One booth was occupied by Mikasa, Armin and Eren, the latter wallowing in his menacing, somber mood, as he delivered his shots with deadly precision. He forbade himself to miss.

As he retracted from the rear sight, he noticed Armin’s uneasiness.

“What’s with you?” Eren question, still fumbling with the magazine.

Armin startled a bit, making Mikasa trace out what he was watching previously.

“N-Nothing,” Armin mumbled, loading bullets into his own rifle.

Mikasa sighed as she continued looking towards something, making Eren do the same.

When he laid eyes upon the sight, he understood why Armin was being so fidgety about it – because he knew how much Eren hates when Jean so much as looks at you. It’s just that now Jean wasn’t just looking, he was straight up teaching you how to properly hold the rifle or something.

Eren’s expression was unreadable as Armin and Mikasa regarded him with anticipation.

Eren felt anger bubbling deep in his chest as he roughly jerked the rifle, yanking out the empty shells like peas before replacing them with new ones. He looked away from the enraging sight as he focused at the target, imagining Jean’s forehead as the bullet pierced the very center once again.

“Thanks, Jean, that was really helpful. My arm doesn’t get so tired anymore.” you thanked him after he told you that your hand is kind of slouched while holding the rifle, and after gently lifting it up to form a straight line, somehow it wasn’t so tiring to hold it up anymore.

You were chit-chatting as you cleaned up the rifles, and literally a couple of seconds after you’ve put your gun back in place you felt Eren’s strong arm snake around your waist and yank you towards himself quite roughly.

“Let’s go,” he muttered, not even looking at you or Jean.

You were instantly annoyed at how he’s treating you like a rag doll, and then you realized why. You sighed, mentally face-palming yourself. Yes, Eren couldn’t stand when Jean was within arm’s reach to you, but you saw Jean as a friend, nothing more, and these jealousy tantrums of Eren’s sometimes drove you real crazy.

“I can walk by myself,” you countered, all passive-aggressive, retracting from his grasp.

He looked at you with his brows slightly furrowed as you made your way towards the barracks.

“Were you enjoying yourself?” he questioned, venom clearly hidden in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what he means. “Yes, Eren, I do like to practice shooting.”

“Didn’t manage without the help?” he looked away again, striding ahead.

“No, actually, I didn’t. Thankfully, Jean was there to help me, because you just cooped up in the booth and imagined shooting all the Marleyans.”

You didn’t pay him another glance but you most certainly felt how he glared at you, furious at your little Jean appreciation moment.

“I’m going to shower.” you muttered before going away without paying him another glance.

You weren’t even able to properly enjoy the shower since your mind lingered on Eren. Secretly you were chiding yourself, because it hit differently when Eren ruffled his feathers acting all jealous just because of a few phrases exchanged with Jean.

You got back to your empty room, Sasha was nowhere to be seen – she probably went straight to the dining hall after practice. After putting your things back into place you heard someone storm into the room and turned your head towards the commotion expecting it to be Sasha, all ready to tell you about that delicious dinner she’s had, but it was Eren with a certain flame in his eyes.

You opened your mouth to question him when he shut the door behind him and locked it.

“What are you doing?” you tried to sound uninterested, but the shiver that ran down your spine spoke otherwise.

“Reminding you just who you belong to.” he was closing in on you, making you step back all the way across the room and bump your spine against the huge window that was revealing the whole area of the shooting grounds.

“Eren –” you mumbled before he cut you off by turning you around and harshly pressing your front to the window.

Your chest heaved up and down as your breath formed condensation on the glass. Eren’s breath tickled your ear as he pressed his semi-hard dick against your bottom, keeping your hands locked behind your back.

“Why don’t you look around the grounds?” he suggested nonchalantly.

Despite the growing arousal your eyebrows knitted in confusion, eyes frantically running around the grounds, not spotting anything in particular, until you saw some movement near the gun racks.

Jean was there, taking his time with cleaning the guns and placing them on the racks properly – he liked handling guns, so he was in no hurry.

“No,” you breathed out curtly, trying to squirm out of Eren’s iron grasp. “Eren, not here, what if –”

“What, you’re worried he’ll see us? His goggles are always set on you anyway, so he should like this, no?”

Your face heated at the possibility of immense embarrassment should Jean merely tip his head in your direction.

A broken gasp escaped your lips as Eren yanked your shirt and bra up, your breasts coming in contact with cold glass. As if it wasn’t enough, he purposely slapped his hand on the glass, sending vibrations all over it.

“Are you crazy?!” you hissed, trying to squirm away once again, to no avail.

You watched as Jean looked around for a second before returning back to the guns.

“Relax,” Eren spoke, softer this time. “don’t you love the thrill?”

Partially distracted by Eren peppering sloppy kissed on your neck, you thought about what he just said for a moment. You shivered at the thought of being railed by Eren right in front of Jean, the latter being oblivious of the lewdness and heat just further away from him.

You yelped as you felt Eren’s teeth sink into the curve where neck meets shoulder, arching your back and pressing your front further to the glass. He released your palms which came leaning on the glass immediately after, allowing Eren to press himself to your back, making you aware of his pulsating hardness.

Your whimpers stamped themselves on the glass in a form of little steam patches as Eren’s hand snuck upwards to fumble with your nipple, while the other slid all the way down under the hem of your panties, coming in contact with your throbbing center.

He chuckled against your cheek in between the kisses as he circled your clit. “I knew you’d love this, so wet for me already.”

Your eyes were shut close, your mind focused on rubbing yourself against Eren and chasing that release – you wouldn’t stop even if you’d open your eyes and see Jean looking straight at you two.

You wailed louder than expected when Eren licked a trail from your shoulder blade all the way to that sweet spot just under your ear.

“Fuck,” Eren breathed out, fumbling with his pants in desperate need to get rid of them.

“Need you, need you so bad,” you mewled impatiently as Eren dragged your sweatpants and panties down before guiding his slick from pre-cum tip against your equally slick entrance.

“You’re lucky I need you too, or you wouldn’t be getting it so easily,” he said just before he rammed into you, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips.

“Ah—fuck,” you cried out against the glass, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s right, baby,” Eren whispered against your ear as he started to pound into you rhythmically. “I’m gonna fuck you so stupid that next time Jean chats you up he’ll think you’re just an idiot.”

Your head was spinning as Eren’s words echoed in your head, hearing all fuzzy as his dick brushed against all the right places. Not to mention the fact that Jean is somewhere below you, the whole ordeal pleasing you a lot more than you could’ve ever thought.

You hung your head back as your tongue lolled out of your mouth, Eren continuing with his ministrations, caressing all the right places just before he hooked his hand under your knee and lifted it up, freeing your leg from the constraint of your pants, pressing it against the glass.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as a prolonged moan escaped your throat, the newly-established pose allowing Eren deeper access, his tip now repeatedly hitting your cervix.

“Eren,” you cried out incoherently in between his own groans. “I’m –I’m gonna—”

His fingers came to circle your clit again, helping you reach your bliss, which came just moments after, blinding you as you cried out against the window.

Eren’s pounding didn’t stop as your breasts jiggled against the glass, your palms leaning against it for balance, awaiting Eren’s own release. A broken moan flew out of his mouth as he pulled out suddenly and you felt his pulsating dick on the small of your back, his release bursting on your skin as he pressed you further against the glass.

“Fuck,” he muttered in sweet relief, lightly slapping your behind.

“I need to shower again.” you chuckled, wiping the cum from your back and pulling your pants up.

“Let’s go.”

You both went away without another glance to the shooting grounds. Maybe it’s good you didn’t look, because you would’ve seen Jean’s deeply blushing face after he witnessed the last moments of your and Eren’s venture.

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

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FATWS One Shot #6 - No One Said Anything About a Metal Arm

Word Count: 2011

Warnings: Explosions, Gunshots, The Winter Soldier, Implied Death, Stevie Almost Crying

Setting/Characters: Towards the End of Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Bucky Barnes; Mentions of Alexander Pierce, Arnim Zola

A/N: This one took me a while to write and I’ll tell you why. Rewatching this movie made me want to do a complete rewrite of it. I had so many ideas of where the reader could be and why and what she was doing then and all that. But…I told myself this is a One Shot of her unofficially meeting Bucky for the first time. Which is why it seems incomplete - because it kinda is - it’s just that scene picked from the movie. Am I happy with it? Eh. Am I holding back from writing more parts and just saying “forget this piece, it never happened”? Maybe. But, I can’t. I wish I could. But if I were to rewrite this movie, I’d rewrite the next one. And the next one. And it would take me months to finish these. So…this is what you’re getting.

Also, NO ONE MENTION WHAT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN IN A COUPLE HOURS! I’M THIS CLOSE TO FREAKING OUT!

Thanks! As always, it’s not beta’d, so please excuse mistakes! Enjoy reading, be kind to yourselves and others, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

********

Sitting on the edge of the old dam was calming. Peaceful, even. The constant sound of the flowing water, the trees swaying in the slight breeze. It was nice to take a breath after everything that had gone down the past week.

To say you were worried was an understatement. The last time you saw Steve was the evening after you met Sam. He dropped you off at your place, refusing your invitation to stay saying that he should probably check on his apartment since he hadn’t been there in a while.

A lot had changed since then.

Steve was wanted by SHIELD, along with Natasha. Fury was considered dead, but was actually still kicking in the structure beneath your feet with the help of you and Hill. You had tried to go after Steve, but it was too risky. Pierce - who you were almost 100% certain was behind this whole thing - had been keeping a close eye on you since Steve ran away, knowing you’d be behind him. You tried to catch the blonde at the hospital, but you were seconds too late, meeting up with Natasha who told you STRIKE already took him away for questioning.

You had been called by Hill and she told you what had happened. Fury had asked for your help specifically, considering the amount of times you’d had to fake your own death while being undercover. And you’d been dealing with that ever since.

You had wanted to go get the three of them - you learned Sam joined Steve and Natasha, which somehow didn’t surprise you - but Hill refused, saying you needed to stay there just in case.

But Fury was fine, no one was coming, which is how you found yourself swinging your legs above a hundred feet of rushing water.

It didn’t last long. A car pulling up to the side entrance caught your eye and you immediately swung your legs around to rush towards the stairs. It’s not like you haven’t gone longer without seeing Steve before. You’d gone months without seeing him. It was your job. But this was different. Whether it was because for the first time he was the one who left or because he was on the run from the organization you worked for, you didn’t know and didn’t care. All you knew was you needed to see him. Make sure he was okay.

It took you a while to get there, all the stairs and corners and twist and turns. You got there just as Fury ended his explanation, hearing him tell the trio, “can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides…I wasn’t sure who to trust.”

Your footsteps were echoing and you were sure Steve heard you but when you entered the room, his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening. “Honey?”

“Oh thank fucking God.” You breathed out, jogging over to squeeze him tightly.

“Y/N…” He murmured in your hair, hugging you tightly back. “What happened? Why are you here?”

Pulling back, you jerked your thumb over your shoulder to the director. “I’m saving his ass.” Your finger then jabbed into his firm chest, your lips falling into a frown. “And worrying about yours. Are you okay?”

“I am. Natasha got shot, but she’ll live.”

You looked over at Natasha, who nodded in confirmation, before looking back into those azure eyes of Steve’s. “What happened? Pierce is keeping a tight lid on everything. I was gonna come find you, but I couldn’t because he was watching me. It’s a miracle I got away from them to help Nicky boy. I haven’t gone out since. But, honest, I was gonna-”

“Honey, honey. You’re rambling again.” Steve chuckled, hand resting on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’ve been safe here. Pierce is behind this whole thing-”

“Yeah, I figured that-”

“-It’s HYDRA, Y/N.”

You froze. “What? HYDRA? Whaddya mean?”

Steve nodded. “HYDRA’s what’s been infiltrating SHIELD. It’s a long story, but Zola continued it when he was hired for-”

“Operation Paperclip. Yeah, I remember learning about that.” You ran a hand over your face. “Okay…” You hummed, looking at the three of them. “Let’s…talk about it more in a little bit. I know we gotta act soon, but Natasha and Fury need to heal a little bit longer and you should get some rest. You look tired.”

Everyone seemed to agree with your statement, starting to disperse from the room. You started walking out, too, when Steve grabbed your bicep and pulled you aside, down the hall a ways away. You opened your mouth, only for him to pull you into his chest.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

You nodded, lightly scratching his back, your arms around his slim waist. “I’m glad you are too.” You could feel how tense he was, which was understandable considering what he’d gone through the past couple days. But there was something else. Something in the grip he had on your shirt. The way his heart was hammering against your chest. His erratic breathing and his ducked head. You pulled away to catch his jaw between your fingers, eyes scanning the anguish in his own. “Bubba? What’s wrong?”

It took a moment for him to answer, his eyes growing sadder with every second that passed. “It was Bucky.”

“What?” You felt like the air was knocked out of you. “What do you mean?”

“The Winter Soldier. The assassin who shot Fury. The one who tried killing us on the bridge. It was Bucky. It is Bucky. I saw him, Y/N. I saw his face. It’s him. He survived. When they experimented on him, it must’ve…God, I’m so…I didn’t even notice…I didn’t even check…I left him…” he shook his head, which fell to your shoulder. “Stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“No, no.” You shook your head quickly, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you twisted to kiss the hinge of his tense jaw. “It wasn’t your fault, Steve.” You mumbled softly, lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. He fell thousands of feet, Stevie. You wouldn’t have found him even if you did.”

HIs grip on your hips tightened. “But I didn’t even try.” His voice broke on that last word. “And how could I not notice something going on with him? There were two years between being experimented on and falling. How-?” Voice catching in his throat, he stopped talking to stop himself from crying. You knew he hated crying.

“You can’t do anything about past Bucky.” You reminded him gently. “But you can help him now.”

“He didn’t even remember me.”

“Then make him.”

********************

To say you were pissed was an understatement. “I’ve been doing undercover stuff for years! This is a piece of cake!”

Steve shook his head. “You’ll be more helpful with Hill. You know more about Project Insight than me, Sam, and Natasha.”

“Bullshit, Steven! You just don’t want-”

“Honey, please.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as he gave you those fucking puppy eyes, his dumb pink lips stuck in a pout. Letting out a rather aggressive puff of air, you looked away. “Fine. But I hate you.”

He beamed and nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Okay.” You glanced at the others. “You all ready?”

“Let’s get these sons of bitches.” Sam stated, making the final adjustments to the wings.

Natasha gave a smirk. “As long as you are.”

Turning back to Steve, you raised an eyebrow, waiting for the captain’s orders. He nodded. “Let’s head out.”

****************

“There’s a problem on the flight deck.” Hill informed you, looking at the alert.

“Alright. I’ll-”

“Stay with Hill!”

You rolled your eyes at Steve’s voice through the comms. “Sorry, Cap. You’re breaking up.”

“I know I’m not, Y/N! I’m serious! Stay there!”

But you were already moving towards the flight deck. “I’m not gonna sit on my ass here, Rogers! Hill’s got it covered! I’m just gonna go check it out!”

“Honey-!”

“Bubba!”

The line went quiet and for a moment you thought you lost connection. “Please stay safe.”

You let out a sigh at his quiet pleads, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “That goes for you, too, Steve.”

By the time you got out there, most of the jets were in flames, pilots and crew members scattered around the deck. You scanned the wreckage, trying to find the source-

A gunshot made your head whip to the side. Found it. Or, more accurately, him.

He was standing on top of one of the jets, gun pointed down at the pilot that was sitting in it. Before he could slip in the cockpit, though, you took out your gun and fired at him. Even though you knew who he was, when he looked at you it made your blood run cold. It was confirmation - not that you didn’t trust Steve - but still. Seeing is believing. yet seeing the same eyes you’d seen sparkling up at you from pictures now staring you down, void of any emotion? It was hard to believe it was the same person.

“Oh shit. Bubs?”

“What?! What’s wrong?! Are you okay?!”

You took a couple steps back as the Winter Soldier, no. Bucky - Steve’s Bucky - strode towards you. “Uh…nothing, nothing. I just I, uh, found your Bucky.”

“Y/N, get outta there now! I told you to stay with Hill!”

“Fuck!” You dove out of the way as the assassin started shooting at you. “Now’s not the time for reprimanding, Steven!”

You tuned out his cursings so as to not get distracted when you became engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the fucking Winter Soldier.

“Hi.” You grunted, ducking under his arm and throwing a kick at him, faking it at the last second. Except, he’d already grabbed your ankle. But you did kick him with your other foot. But…he didn’t really move and it made you fall back, so…fail. You let out a grimace when the wind was knocked out of you, but you couldn’t lay there for long as he moved to slam his foot down. You rolled out of the way, swinging your legs up to hit him in the back of the knee. “Nice to finally meet you.”

He growled as Sam exclaimed, “are you seriously chatting with him?”

“It’s mostly one sided - dammit!” The both of you had gotten on your feet again, and you tried hooking your left knee around his left shoulder to tug him down, but he had slammed you against a jet, your leg stretched in a very uncomfortable position as your free foot stood on your toes. He had his metal arm - which no one had informed you about and you were kinda salty about it - against your throat, his other hand coming up in a fist.

Bouncing on your toes a bit, you finally lifted your free leg up to knee him in the side of his face, making you wince slightly at the stretch and the burn in your left thigh, which was the only thing besides his metallic limb holding you up against the jet.

He stumbled to the side, throwing you by the leg on his shoulder. You went sprawling against the pavement, a hiss leaving your lips at the serious roadburn you no doubt just got. Sitting up quickly, not wanting him to get the upper hand, you let out a breath seeing him swiftly moving into the cockpit of the jet he just had you pinned against.

“Guys…he’s…heading your way…just a…heads up. Also…thank you. It was nice…to fucking know…about the metal arm…beforehand. I’m just gonna…rest here for a minute…”

“You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”

“No, Cap. No, just…gonna be aching for a while. Ugh…” Begrudgingly, you got up to your feet. “I think I’m gonna…go back and chill with Maria.”

“Told you so.”

“Shut up, finish your job, and don’t die, Rogers! And next time, please, for the love of God, mention the metal arm!”

****************

All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading @bibliophilewednesday @breadqueen95 @marvelettesassemble @w-wolfhxrd

#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 6 #fatws series #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #no one said anything about a metal arm oneshot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭#❤🐦💙🦾⏪

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

Text

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood/violence and language Genre: Action with a lil bit of fluff Warnings: Lil bit of blood Notes: There's an unnamed character in here who may or may not end up as recurring in my stories. I don't really have anything in particular planned for her, she's kinda just here to fill a role/allow for some easter egg type shit in the next chapter. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1, Pt. 2

{Wounded Love 3: Bloody Valentine (No, not that Valentine)}

“Mother Miranda, I must insist, if these lycans stray any further they might start feasting on the village as well! Pray tell, who will you use for research then? We can’t just-... Forgive me… Mhmm. Yes, I understand. Of course… Have a good night, Mother Miranda,” Lady Dimitrescu said, before setting her phone down with a loud thunk. Her hands shake a little, and for a moment you worry that her vanity won’t survive the coming moments. Then you make eye contact with her reflection, giving her an encouraging smile, watching as her gaze softens. “I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do, my dear. I cannot allow Heisenberg’s negligence to go unpunished, but we will have to take care of it on our own, without Mother Miranda’s support.”

“Is that wise, love? To go behind her back like this? I can’t imagine she’ll be terribly pleased if we cause chaos for one of her favored few,” you replied, clicking your tongue as you thought things over. Again you see anger cloud Alcina’s face, though she makes sure not to direct it at you.

“We are not the ones who started this mess,” she reminded you, through clenched teeth. “But we will be the ones to end it, one way or another. I don’t care if I have to gut that wretched man-thing and bring Miranda his corpse as proof of his incompetence! He has shown his lack of loyalty hundreds of times… and now he will pay.” Gulping, you rise to your feet, wanting to comfort your girlfriend. While you had understood that your injury angered her, you hadn’t (until this moment) realized the sheer intensity of that rage. How much blood would be shed before this was over?...

-----------------------------

Crimson drips down the beast’s side, across matted fur, before hitting the wooden floor. A stench as awful as you had ever found filled the air, only made tolerable by the nearby presence of scented candles. What a mess, you think, glad that you wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. Why had the girls insisted on bringing the damn thing inside? Couldn’t they have simply snatched a few teeth from its jaw as a prize? Somehow you doubted that the thought had even crossed their minds. Violence was a passion of theirs, and they preferred their trophies to be as large as the effort they put into getting it.

“How close to the path did you find it?” You asked after finishing your examination of the lycan. Next to you, the eldest daughter is rapidly taking notes in a leather-bound journal. Both of her siblings stand near the fireplace, hands held out next to the flames, needing to warm up after being outside for so long. It wasn’t even that cold of a day, with temperatures averaging around eighteen degrees celsius. All the snowfall from the prior week had now melted. While you knew of the family’s weakness, you also knew that they had bundled up before leaving, and had even taken a torch with them in the hopes of using it on a lycan. Their powers had taken somewhat of a hit, temporarily, but not nearly enough to prevent them from killing a single lycan.

“Heard it howling almost as soon as we left the castle. We couldn’t smell it until halfway to the village, though. Once we could we tried to track it, only for the stupid thing to come charging at us. Must have been eight, maybe ten, meters away by the time we collided,” Cassandra answered. There’s a bit of a shiver to her voice, and you can’t help the rush of sympathy you feel in response. Being out on the path, wearing little more than a dress and scarf, had been absolute hell for you. Even if it was warmer outside now, you imagined that being weak to the cold just about made up for the difference. “There was a little more howling once we started walking back here. Louder, if not closer. Heisenbitch isn’t even trying to keep these fucking things in check.”

“Cassandra, language!” Came a voice in the distance, making everyone present look up at once. Strutting down the stairs was a clearly miffed Alcina, eyes narrowed, body tense. “Did you three really have to bring the mutt inside? Surely you advocated against this, Bela? Or did you think I wanted new bloodstains right by the entrance, where everyone can see them?” Next to you Bela winces, but doesn’t respond, too worried about angering her mother further. “And you, my dear, what on Earth are you doing on the floor? You should be resting, in an actual chair, if not lying in bed awaiting my return. There’s enough for me to worry about without you limping around on a useless leg!”

Now it was your turn to wince.

“Please, love, I know you’re stressed, but I can still help. Given enough time I could help ascertain these things’ weaknesses. At the very least I could pass on what I learned during my fight with one,” you pleaded. Then you tried to stand up, wanting to prove yourself, only to stumble, barely avoiding a faceplant- and only doing so because of Bela’s quick reaction time. She helped you to your feet, letting you lean on her, then lead you towards a bench. Begrudgingly you sit back down. “You’re only doing this because I got hurt. Helping you in your endeavor to avenge me is the least I can do.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Alcina snapped, now just a couple meters away from you. Even with that space between you, her presence was intimidating, and you almost felt like a child being scolded. “Were you to get hurt again, how would we avenge you? If you fall by your own hand, there will be naught I can do other than lock you away somewhere without any dangerous elements. What sort of existence would that be for you? I simply can’t allow it, no exceptions.” At this you pout, feeling rather disappointed. It’s not as if you were asking to carry a gun and shoot Heisenberg yourself! Not that you would be opposed to doing so, of course. “Try to put yourself in my place, my dear. Could you live with yourself if you failed to protect me?”

“I suppose I could not, love. Very well, I shall simply root you on from here, and kiss away any injuries you return with,” you replied, at last giving in. Then you found yourself smiling… and on the receiving end of a very soft forehead kiss. “Nothing will separate us, my love. None can tear apart that which the universe has stitched together.”

-----------------------------

“Like I said, my Lady, I already want him dead. Did you really think that your family was the only one to suffer because of his machinations? I know half a dozen people who would love to put a bullet in that fucker’s skull, bare mims,” the huntress said, white teeth showing in her half-smirk. There was an odd coolness to her voice, like this whole ordeal was just another job, and you couldn’t help but feel uncertain about her. Could she really be the solution to Alcina’s problem? You couldn’t even judge her arsenal, considering she had been instructed to come unarmed. After all, she was a hunter of monsters, with a sizable history to her name. If not for her hatred of Heisenberg, you would never have felt comfortable letting her come within two hundred meters of your girlfriend.

“How can I be sure that you’ll succeed? The last thing I want is to have that wretched man-thing come crawling out of the filth he lives in, angry and coming for vengeance,” Alcina responded, scrutinizing gaze locked on the huntress.

“Didn’t Duke give you my file? Or at least read the good bits out loud? I’ve been in my fair share of scraps, with all sorts of bioweapon mutant freaks. Besides, I don’t plan on leaving any receipts behind. If he manages to survive, which is already one hell of an if, there’s no way he can prove that you asked me to do it. Considering he’s already seen my face, and knows I want him dead… yeah, he won’t bother accusing you, not when I’m in the picture, and certainly not when you’ve got such a big reputation for following Mother Miranda’s word down to the very last letter. So, you gonna make this official, or what?” The huntress asked, gesturing her arms wide. Although you’re still not convinced, Alcina nods quietly, seeming ready to make her decision. Regardless of how you feel about the stranger in front of you, you’re more than willing to support your girlfriend in whatever she planned.

“Very well, huntress. Show us just what you’re capable of.”

-----------------------------

Flames licked at her heels, even as she charged forward, tickling like hot breaths against her skin. Behind her half a dozen lycans roared and screeched in unison. Smoke and ashes flew upwards, into the air, but could not poison her lungs, not when she had come prepared. Still, the mask was not as easy to breathe in as she had hoped, making her chest heave with effort at each intake of air. Good thing I’ll be gone soon, she thought, sparing a glance behind her as she ran. Dozens of trees were aflame, and countless glowing eyes watched from between the branches. They wouldn’t be there for much longer, not with what she had done.

Soon enough an explosion would shake the Earth. Then, finally, both the lycans who had killed her father and the man who desecrated the remains would be dead. And if a certain countess happened to pay her for her services? All the better, really. Funerals could be expensive, especially in such a remote village. More than that… there was no guarantee that she’d be able to outrun Mother Miranda on her own. A little money would make the flight out a hell of a lot nicer.

Assuming she made it that far. There was another scream behind her, this one more human, though somewhat warped by mechanics. It wasn’t a pained cry. No, it was filled with rage. Clearly Heisenberg had come out of his lair, hearing the fireworks, finding his scrap metal and werewolf army in chaos. From the sound of things- metal against metal, electricity crackling- he was coming her way.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” She muttered, desperately trying to get to higher ground. Even if the lycans succumbed to the overwhelming fire, it wouldn’t be hard for their leader to overcome. But the huntress was still too close to her explosives to risk activating the detonator. Just a bit farther, she thought, ignoring the way her lungs ached. Rocks kicked up with every step, loud enough to be heard from a distance, and made traction harder to keep. In the end she had to scramble to get up the side of a short cliff. A few scrapes appeared on her hands, making her curse under her breath.

But with one last movement, pulling herself up with both arms, she was finally far enough to be relatively safe. In one clean second she turned around, pulled the detonator out of its pouch and clicked the trigger. Just like that, a forest blazing turns into a mushroom cloud of pure hellfire. The setting sun makes for a beautiful backdrop, and the sight almost brings a tear to the huntress’ eyes. For a few moments she just enjoys the view. Then, without hesitation or remorse, she starts to walk away, mentally congratulating herself for a job well done.

Until something shoots past her head with terrifying speed. Before she can react another sharp piece of metal flies past her, grazing her arm, and there’s a blood-curdling roar from behind her. Then she’s running, fast as she can, pulse pounding harder than it ever has. One hand goes to the rifle on her back, pulling it out as quickly as she can. The area is rocky, with plenty of outcrops, perfect to hide behind (assuming there weren’t any hidden metal deposits). Quickly she ducks behind one, crouching to keep her head out of sight. Mere milliseconds later another metal spike slams into the ground just beyond her cover.

In the distance, more screams pierce the air, and something heavy drags itself across the ground. It almost sounds like a tank rolling through the woods. The thought alone worries the huntress, but she had never been one to let her fear control her. So she double checks her rifle, adjusts the scope, and pops out of cover. Less than a second later she has her target in her sights. It’s Heisenberg, for sure, more metal than man, but dripping with red. One press of the trigger sends a bullet straight for his ugly head. Unsurprisingly, it’s not enough to pierce his cranium, instead making him mad as hell.

Which is why automatic guns were invented, probably. The huntress holds the trigger down this time, though briefly, before dashing to the next piece of cover. She repeats the process a few times, hoping to kill the man before he could climb the cliff she stood on. If he managed to get up there with her… no, she couldn’t think about that, not now. She had to focus.

-----------------------------

Hidden among the trees, the Dimitrescu sisters watched as plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Even though they had been aware of the huntress’ plan, they hadn’t expected this much carnage. It was certainly exciting! But they really couldn’t see much from where they were. Getting closer was probably a horrible idea, and yet Cassandra shared a meaningful look with Daniela. A split second later they were forming a swarm, rushing into the trees, leaving their elder sister to yell after them.

“Mother’s going to kill me,” Bela said, before rolling her eyes and following. Maybe she could at least keep them out of trouble?... Probably not.

-----------------------------

Metal hands wrap around the huntress’ throat, squeezing hard, but do not twist or otherwise break their prey. No, Heisenberg does not intend to end this that quickly. This rodent had taken so much from him, set his plans back by decades. He was going to kill her slowly. When she still fights back, pulling a knife from her boot and trying to stab whatever she can reach, he does little else but laugh. It’s a crazed cackling that echoes through the surrounding rocky hills.

Just barely loud enough to drown out the sound of insects buzzing.

“Fuck that guy!” Someone shouted, right as a sickle descended upon the monstrous Heisenberg’s neck. The first slice isn’t enough to sever the connection, which is why it’s immediately followed by a second, from another sister, then a third, from the eldest, that finally does the job. Just like that the hands release from the huntress’ throat, and she gasps for air. Coughs leave her distracted as the sisters move to surround her. “Good thing we wanted to see the show up close and personal, eh?” Daniela asked, twirling her sickle with a little giggle.

“You idiots are just lucky I followed you,” Bela added, glaring at her sister. Internally, she was relieved that the end result was a success. Still, she worried about what her mother would think, and certainly didn’t intend to voice her satisfaction at delivering the killing blow. “Now let’s get back, before mother assumes the worst and comes to get us herself.” Sighing, she extends a hand to help the huntress up. Though their mutual enemy had been defeated, there was still much to be done. Who knew how Mother Miranda would react? Who, if anyone, would take Heisenberg’s place? There was plenty to be unsure about, and Bela let her mind wander the whole way back, hoping that things would only get better from here...

#lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #I know the reader didn't have a big part in this #but don't worry next chap will have a bigger part #partially cuz reader's leg will actually be a bit better by then #gotta give time to heal!!!

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wpdarlingpan · 4 years ago

Note

I have a suggestion! What about pan or jerome valeska kiddnaping the reader/oc? Ik its pretty basic, but maybe pan kidnapps her to obress Emma and Jerome kiddnapps her because he is fond of her appearance yk? Maybe a little bit yandere style.

Thank u I hope you like my suggestions!

Thanks for my first suggestion! I hope it’s good :)

Please let me know if there is something I should fix for later suggestions. Be it my writing style, or if you’d prefer me to make an OC for the story.

Also TW with just a mention of how Greenwood is charged with Rape and Murder. It’s only the mention and will not be brought up further.

Now on with the story.

Background information: Y/N is the daughter of Jim Gordon and Barbara. She isn’t associated with Barbra since she went slightly crazy. She considers Lee like her mom. Her dad is very over protective since he’s seen the dark side of Gotham. She is 18 years old and somewhat shy/innocent from being protected by her dad.

“Bye dad! Love you!” Y/N yelled out as she approached the front door of their apartment. She was hoping to leave before her dad could give her the talk she always got before leaving the house but luck wasn’t on her side. She also felt the teeniest bit of guilt for rushing out so quickly as she and her dad had a good relationship and she knew he was just trying to protect her.

“Wait.” He spoke coming down the hallway into the room. He knew she didn’t like the fact she had to go over rules before she left the house but he’d been even more nervous since there was a breakout at Arkham.

“Yes?” Y/N questioned.

“Got your phone?”

“Yep.”

“Charged?”

“100%.”

“House key?”

“Definitely.”

“Emergency money?”

“Right in my pocket.”

“Pepper spray?”

“Yep and with the safety on so I don’t accidentally spray myself... again.” She spoke while looking down sheepishly.

“All right love you kiddo. Remember what I said about those people who broke out yesterday.”

Jim spoke while lightly kissing the side of her head and let her go to school.

“I remember. Also love you Always and forever dad. Don’t forget you have a date with Lee later!” Y/N reminded before closing the door to make her way to the Gotham High school. Her dad had bought her a car so she would be more safe getting to and from school as he didn’t trust city busses or taxis. She didn’t mind though it was nice and she was able to play some music while she drove.

Once she arrived at the school she saw the cheerleaders loading onto the bus. She was a photographer for the yearbook and it was one of their first football games for the year so they send her to photograph for the team. She was way to shy to actually try out for it. Once double checking if her car was locked she put the keys in her pocket and made her way to the bus with her camera looped around her neck.

She got on first as the rest of the cheerleads were talking outside the bus with the coach. Y/N sat in the very back with her feet up next to her as a sign of ‘do not sit by me’ she was rather short so it was comfortable as well. She then pulled out her phone and began to text her dad that she was safely on the bus. He replied with a quick ‘ok’ and ‘be safe’ then she started to play a game on her phone as the cheerleaders began to load onto the bus. Once everyone was on the bus they drove away from the school at the cheerleaders were practice their cheers. The. Whole. Ride. It was beginning to get on her nerves as she preferred the peace and quiet but she knew that being on a bus with cheerleaders would be anything but. She grabbed one side of her headphones and began to play music. She lightly tapped her fingers to it and looked out the window.

They drove for about 20 more mins before they were stopped. A red truck had pulled in front of them and people approached the truck. She spotted guns in their hands. She quickly dialed her dads phone and begged for him to pick up.

“Y/N? What is it?” He could tell by her erratic breathing that something was wrong.

“There are people with guns on the bus! They just shot the driver. We are on (random Gotham street) please hurry!”

“I’m on my way! Try and stay on the line.” She said a quiet okay she a boy with red hair entered the bus. Jim quickly ordered police officers to make their way towards the scene.

“I want you all to know... this was a very difficult decision for us.” The boy spoke as he waved around his guns as if it was a toy. Y/N had already ducked down in her seat after a different person had handcuffed them to the seats. She wanted to stay out of of the seemingly ringleaders point of view as she watching her phone continue to hold the call with her dad and her headphone was in on low in order for him not to hear the phone. She still listened from her other ear to be aware.

“It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party.

In the end, we decided to skew a little younger.” He spoke while putting the gun to one of the girls heads. He walked towards the back of the bus as he continued his speech. She heard him coming and quickly tucked her phone into her pocket along with the headphones.

“Youth won the day. Sorry.”

He had reached the back to the bus and was about to turn around when he saw her tucked into the seat. She was very small and if he didn’t know this was a high school bus he would have thought she was a kid. She looked up at him with terrified doe eyes and he looked at her with a smile. He liked her. The innocence in her eyes that made him swoon. She clearly wasn’t like his whore of a mother. She would make a good partner.

“And who might you be.” He spoke while he used his charm. He lifted her chin up lightly with his unoccupied hand as the gun still rested in the other. She scooted as far away as she could with the handcuffs keeping her in place.

“Y-Y/N.” She stuttered out in fear. She was trying to hide not stand out. He moved her hand away from the start of the handcuffs and brought up his gun to which she began squirming at as it was raised.

“Shh, just going to get these off.” He attempted to comfort but it was honestly more frighting what was he going to do.

He shot the handcuffs and the bullet got lodged into the seat as she was detached from the seat but still had the cuffs around her wrist.

“You’ll be coming with me Doll.” He spoke while tugging her up from the seat as the cheerleaders continued to cry at the situation.

“No!” She attempted to struggle but she was too small to get away. But he held onto her. He tugged her out of the bus before giving her to Aaron. Since he didn’t trust Greenwood with his girl. Not like he trusted Aaron any more but he wasn’t charged for rape.

Aaron obeyed and tightly held her as Jerome put back on his crazy face and went back onto the bus.

“Give me an "O"!” He shouted to make fun of them.

“I said, give me a "O".” He shot the roof of the bus making the cry harder.

“O!” The cried out through their tears.

“ Give me an "N".” He spoke again with enthusiasm

“N!”

“Give me another "O"!”

“O!”

“What does that spell?” He questioned while greenwood handed him a hose that would spray gasoline out from the truck they had stolen.

"Oh, no!"

He walked up and down the isles of the bus and sprayed each and everyone one of them with gasoline while they all screamed in fear.

He finished and walked out of the bus and grabbed a lighter from his pocket.

“Ready? Okay!” Jerome said as he attempted to make the lighter work. The flame wouldn’t appear and Y/N continued to struggle in Aaron’s arms but for the man it was nothing. Dobkins was bouncing in his place with anticipation.

But it never lit.

“This is so embarrassing.” Jerome spoke harshly. He was making a fool out of himself in front of his girl.

“Anyone got a light?” He requested from the group of cheerleaders. Y/N was questioning if he really expected them to give him one since he was trying to kill them. He walked off after they all cried out a ‘No’ and winked at Y/N as she looked at him making her glance away hoping for her dad to hurry.

“I do. I got...” Dobkins replied while reaching into his own pocket to grab a lighter.

As Dobkins went to hand Jerome the lighter sirens sounded and police pulled onto the scene. She began struggling more as Aaron held her with one hand and shot with the other with little to no aim.

She saw as her dad got out of the car and quickly held up his gun. His heart stopped as he saw his daughter in the hands of one of the Maniax.

“Stand your ground, boys. They can't shoot at a bus.” Jerome smugly told the crew. He glanced at his doll to see her struggling still while eyeing one of the officers.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Jim quickly yelled in fear one something hitting his daughter or the bus.

“Dad!” She yelled out as she attempted to kick Aaron but did little to no damage.

Jeromes eyes widened with surprise. Jim Gordon had a daughter? This would be two birds with one stone. He smirked as Jim looked panicked.

“Aaron, Greenwood, get the truck started. And pass me my girl.” Jerome demanded. Y/N was shoved towards Jerome who caught her with a arm wrapped around her waist. He spotted her phone in her pocket and tossed it onto the pavement so they couldn’t be tracked nor could she call.

The officers had ducked behind their cars as Jerome shot at them.

“We're gonna blow this barbecue stand, huh Doll?” He told her as he tugged her towards the truck as her dad tried to follow before he was shot at again.

Greenwood sat on the outside holding onto the bus with the hose.

“Light 'em up!” Jerome spoke as he turned around and made a round motion with his arm to Dobkins who struggled with a lighter as well.

Jerome laughed manically as he got into the truck with her on his lap to which she blushed making him smirk and they began to drive off leaving Dobkins with the police.

Soon they were out of view and Jim quickly drove the bus away from the flames that had fought when the lighter was dropped. He needed to get his daughter back.

Y/N had a blind fold put on her as they left the scene to head back to Galivants building. Once they arrived Jerome picked her up bridal style and carried her into the building. He was stopped by the man himself as he headed to his room.

“And whose this?” He questioned quite poshly. She couldn’t recognize the voice but it seemed familiar.

“My girl.” He replied looking Galivant in the eye with a murderous look, daring him to say she couldn’t stay.

“Fine. But she stays in your room. Wouldn’t suggest having her out here with Greenwood.” He spoke before walking away to his office. Jerome laughed at even the thought of letting Greenwood anywhere near her. He brought her into his room and sat her on the bed. He quickly locked the door with a key to which he placed in his pocket before removing the blindfold.

Y/N blinked to adjust to the light and when she did she quickly scrambled back on the bed, away from the boy in front of her.

“Oh Y/N your never getting away from me. Not now, not ever.” He spoke before laughing crazily making her whimper and her eyes water. She curled up in a ball in an attempt to shield herself away from the boy.

“Well Doll, welcome to your new home. By the way, the names Jerome. Jerome Valeska.”

Y/N began to shake, her dad had told her about his interview. She should have for the hint from the fact of his unsettling laughter.

She was utterly screwed.

Let me know if you’d like a quick part 2

Also, please suggest things to write 😁

#jerome valeska #gotham #story prompt #oneshots #jerome valeska x reader #jim gordon #male yandere #love at first sight #writing

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genshin-impact-fics · 4 years ago

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I love your fatui! reader x genshin really tugged on my heartstrings right there.

if it's alright can i ask for a continuation for keqing? 👉🏻👈🏻 like the two of them inevitably have to fight each other ft. other fatui and keqing gets overwhelmed so the reader ultimately betrays her peers and gets gravely injured (i live for the angst-hurt/comfort)

again thank you for writing this it was definitely a fun read 😊

Thank you so much, I really enjoyed writing it as hopefully I'll do more for other characters! I love continuations so I was so happy to write this. I also apologize for not getting this out sooner as I had this in the works with a few other things; however, a couple of personal things came up. But that aside I do hope you enjoy this as I hope you don't mind that I did a hybrid of scenario/fic.

Keqing was asked to go investigate the suspicious activity that was going on near the entrance of the mines with only the mention that it is possibly involving the Fatui. On her travels to get to the location of course her mind had wondered to what she’d possibly find; then the thought of you popped into her head.

It had been so long… Maybe a couple of months since she last saw you since she cut ties after finding out you were with the enemy. There couldn’t be a possibility that you were still in Liyue after the whole incident that had taken place right, she didn’t want to worry about coming to come face to face when the pain and the memories of that day was still very fresh in Keqing’s head

Whatever or whoever was seemingly up to no good, Keqing’s resolve to keep all of Liyue and Liyue Harbor safe stayed strong. Upon arrival so far there had not been a soul in her sights, but of course continued to look around to see if she could find any signs of evidence that people were there. It was after a while of searching that Keqing walked up a couple of stairs until she heard a voice talking. She only saw two figures, one kneeling before the standing figure

“Boss, the rubble that’s blocking the entryway to the Chasm is far greater than initially suspected… It may take us longer to clear it all out,” the masked agent kneeling said. Keqing’s eyes widened at the new information as holding her sword in hand she rushed over to put a stop to the Fatui’s plans. “Stop right there,” she shouted getting both the agents attention; however, the kneeling agent was the only one who jumped up and looked at her

“Leave this to me, get back to the others and get the job done,” the other figure spoke as at that moment she knew right away it was you. When it was just the two of them Keqing’s hold on her sword loosened as she watched as the hood was pulled off. “Of all the people that could have been sent it had to be you… I really wish this wasn’t how we met again,” you said with a small sigh fully turned to face her removing your mask revealing the glimmer of the eyes Keqing had fallen in love with

“What’s the meaning of all of this (Y/n),” she asked as she was mad, she should be mad yet her heart betrayed her as it raced at the sight of you. “Unfortunately that’s classified information,” was all you spoke having a soft expression on your face before you summoned your weapon. “I’d much rather not fight you but knowing you, you just won’t simply walk away… So you give me no other choice.”

The fight between you two was fast as flashes of your elements clashed together blow for blow. The sounds of metals clashing and striking one another till eventually you both skidded apart from each other heavily breathing, small nicks and tears in clothing. The brief moment of the wind passing through before Keqing sprinted forward attacking again.

“You’re a traitor! A Lair,” Keqing shouted, striking her sword at (Y/n) who was simply blocking and staying on the defensive side. “You have every right to be angry with me; I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I knew if I did you wouldn’t give me the chance to explain, but please believe me when I say that I dated you because I loved you; I wasn’t trying to use you,” You further said blocking the barrage of attacks. Keqing gritted her teeth as she felt the ache of her chest; how could she believe anything you said, for all she knew you were simply trying to sweet talk her. “How can I believe you when you told them everything that I told you and everything that was in the Jade Chamber,” She shouted angrily, swinging her blade.

Her words of her assumptions of what you possibly did brought a sharp pain to your chest; instead of using your weapon to stop her attack you grabbed the blade by the hand; the small pain of the blade cutting into the skin causing blood to seep out. Looking at her with a hurt expression you looked Keqing in her purple eyes as she was staring back with a shocked expression by your actions. “You-you really think I’d stoop that low to tell the Fatui all the things you’ve told me about and what was in the Jade Chamber? I never told them anything; I might be working for them, but I’ve kept all of our conversations and that of the Chamber to myself this whole time,” You said, causing Keqing to freeze at your words in complete bewilderment. Though before any more words could be exchanged during your fight, the sound of a gun being shot, the two of you jumped back to watch a bullet engulfed in flames hit the dirt of where the two of you just were.

The other members had suddenly appeared shooting attacks as one of the Vanguards charged Keqing. Panic started to slowly overtake you as you had to watch Keqing fight off the others. “What are you all doing?! I told you to get the job done didn’t I,” You shouted trying to get them to back down, but it didn’t seem to be working. “We’ll make quick work of this one,” The Bracer said, aiming his gun to fire another round. Glancing back to Keqing it was clear she was doing her best to at most keep up and dodge the enemies attacks. In this crucial moment there was a decision to be made: to either walk away and let the others continue the fight and simply pray Keqing would flee or betray the Fatui in order to save the woman you still very much loved. Finally coming to your decision you first attacked the bracer to get him out of the way before running over to handle the rest. Getting knocked down Keqing was doing her best to get right back up, but only managed to sit herself up; her attention now on the electro vanguard who’s hammer was up in the air about to come down on her. Closing her eyes she waited for the impact… However after not feeling anything she opened her eyes only for them to widen at the scene before her; there you stood your weapon blocking the hammer before managing to push the tall man back.

“Who do you all think you are?! How dare you go against my orders like a bunch of morons,” You shouted angrily as though she couldn’t see the look on your face, she could only imagine how mad you were. “For your unacceptable behavior you all will face punishment,” you now spoke in a much lower tone, your vision surprisingly enough started to change to a different color before you charged at the other members of the Fatui. It still almost felt unreal of the turn of events that have taken place yet here you were fighting your own peers to protect her, the feeling of guilt creeping in on how she treated you. The fight dragged on a while longer until the last remaining members fled while they could, leaving you to stand by yourself with the few bodies that laid on the ground. You turned around to look over to Keqing to check on her and to your relief she wasn’t hurt too much. “You okay,” you asked, feeling your body grow heavy and tired from the wounds you’ve sustained. Blinking she snapped out of her trance and nodded her head uttering a small yes. “That’s… Good,” you replied smiling before falling over.

“(Y/n),” Keqing shouted, scurrying up to get to you, carefully turning you over gasping at the sight of how grave your injuries were. “Hey! Hey,” she loudly said cupping the side of your face to make you look at her as a flurry of mixed emotions were going on. “What’s the big idea huh?! What do you think you were doing,” she asked sternly as it pained her to see you in such a horrible condition. A weak laugh came out as you reached up a hand to overlap the one holding the side of your face running a thumb over her hand in a comforting manner. “I was pro-tecting you of… Course,” you answered before a hard cough briefly stopping you from talking. “It-it’s okay if you still… Hate me, but I hope that… At least this makes up… For all the bad I’ve done,” you further spoke, wincing when trying to breathe. Tears falling, Keqing feeling the weight of your words hit her heart hard, regretting how cruel she was. The rain started to fall, Keqing couldn’t just mope around and let you die; putting her strong urge to cry aside, she carefully picked up your body and made a run back to the harbor as hopefully Dr. Baizhu would be able to help.

Who knew how long you had been out for, though much to your surprise you were actually alive but how? The sight of an unfamiliar ceiling was the first thing you saw before you tried to move to sit up to further investigate your surroundings. “Don’t you dare try to move, you’ll only reopen your wounds,” the stern voice of Keqing rang in your ears as looking over she was now right beside you causing a small strained laugh out of you. “How could you be laughing, you could have died,” She said now sitting on the edge as she had a sad expression on her face. “Hehe sorry, sorry… But really if it meant that I knew you were safe I was well prepared to die,” You answered as suddenly Keqing was now gently hugging you and the soft sound of her crying reached your ears. “You idiot, you can’t go dying on me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for how cruel I was to you and all those harsh things I said to you. I love you so don’t try throwing your life away for me!” she spoke, carefully hugging you firmer. It brought a relief to you to hear that she still loved you so in return you put a hand on her back and rubbed it in a comforting manner. “It’s alright I never held it against you, though if it makes you feel better then I forgive you… I will always protect you, you’re the love of my life,” you responded with a soft smile. Having begun the mending of your relationship you two shared a short kiss before Keqing brought over some food and medicine for you to take; it would take time for you to get better, but at least you were still alive.

#genshin impact #keqing x y/n #genshin keqing #angst/comfort #genshin scenario #genshin fanfic #fatui!reader x genshin #fatui!reader x keqing #genshin x reader

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supercorpkid · 4 years ago

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You’re going to wish you were dead, instead.

Part 4 of T is for Trauma - The Series

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2370.

Warnings: kidnapping. Injuries. Next level angst.

Previously on the series – part 1, part 2, part 3

You open your eyes when someone kicks your stomach twice. You can’t control the vomit that comes right after, when your body finally understands that you’re up.

“Gross! Boss! The child threw up on my feet.” He walks away from you.

You want to appreciate that fact that you just did something to one of them, but everything hurts so much, like your skin is being peeled off of your body, that right now your only wish is that you could just die already so you don’t have to feel this unbearable pain anymore. Never in your worst nightmares, you’ve imagined you could feel so much pain you would wish you were dead instead.

“Stupid shit doesn’t die of over-exposure. It’s been hours! Maybe we should just shoot her, so she can bleed out to death.” One of them says and you pray they’re being serious.

“Please.” You plead. “End this.”

The boss kneels in front of you, with a creepy satisfied smile on his face. He looks behind him, to the other guys, and starts laughing like you just told the funniest joke in the world. His goons start laughing with him.

“I’m not going to end this. I wouldn’t want to stop all this fun you’re having!” He stands up, the same creepy smile still on his lips. “You know, you Kryptonians are funny. You act like Gods deciding everyone’s fate with some kind of morality no one even knows if you actually have. So, you’re ok with putting us through pain, but you can’t take any?”

“They are some weak Gods.” One of his henchmen says, and he looks back like he is telling him to shut up.

“Your world exploded for a reason. No kryptonian was supposed to survive. But then Supergirl and Superman came to Earth. Now, they are here dictating rules, expecting everyone to follow them. Who do they think they are? Those cockroaches.” He spits on the floor next to you, and you feel saliva hitting your face. “They’re not even supposed to exist, let alone procreate.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You whimper, and he gives his maniac laughter again.

“I’ll do you a solid though, just because you’re just a little kid.” He raises a hand and quickly one of his goons puts a gun in his hand. He points at your leg. “I’ll make a little hole, to accelerate your dying process, ‘kay?” And he shoots your leg.

You scream as loud as you can, with all the strength still left in you. You thought you were already in so much pain because of the kryptonite, that this wouldn’t add up and you wouldn’t feel any more. You were wrong. The pain piled up on top of each other. So right now, the inside of your body is agonizing, your leg is burning and you’re bleeding out. Is this pain going to go on forever? It sure feels like it, because no matter how much you pray for it, you’re still not dead.

No, you’re not dead. You’re just lying there in your own vomit and blood, thinking about how much you want this nightmare to end, one way or another, when you hear gunshots. You close your eyes, thinking they’ve changed their minds and decided to shoot you multiple times to end your pain, but you don’t feel anything.

“Supergirl, I’ve been expecting you.” What? You open your eyes when you hear that. You can’t see her, the boss is in front of you with his body, but you get a glimpse of red and your heart beats faster. “As you can see, I have kryptonite and your daughter. Now, would you-”

“FUCK YOU!” She flies towards him with her closed fist, throwing him to the other side of the room. You can’t see him, but you know there’s no way he can recover fast from that. Kara kneels before you, and rips the chains with her hands, tossing the kryptonite to the other side of the room, like it doesn’t even affect her anymore. And if it does, it’s not as painful as seeing your situation.

You thought that once you were free of kryptonite, the pain would go away. It didn’t. Your body still feels like it is up in flames. Kara touches your face, you whimper. You can’t barely make up her face with your one functioning eye, but you see your pain reflected on her face.

She is still kneeling next to you, when she hears a noise coming from where she threw the guy. She blows her freeze breath, holding him back a little. Kara looks around, like she’s looking for something.

“I’ll be right back, my love. Ok? Momma is here.” She disappears right after, but comes back a few seconds later, hair blowing, and even though you didn’t see a thing, you know she just used her super speed.

“Mommy. I’m dying.” You whisper and Kara holds you up, carrying you in the most protective way she can.

“Shhh. You’re ok. Mommy is here. You’re ok.” Kara looks around again and you see aunt Alex going inside the room with the biggest gun you’ve ever seen. “He’s tied up in the corner.”

“J’onn and I got this. Take her to the DEO and put her under the sun light lamp, I’ll be there in a few.” Alex goes to the other side of the room, but you still can hear her. “Oh, you thought it was funny shooting my niece? I’ll show you funny!”

You don’t hear anything else. Kara is flying with you back to National City, and you look up to her. Hair flying in the wind, tears dropping from her eyes, she can’t take her eyes off you.

“I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe, baby.” She gives you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Mommy, I’m dying.” You repeat very slowly, because you don’t have any strength left to speak, and you know Kara can hear you either way. And you need her to know. She needs to know you’re probably not going to make it.

“No, you’re not. You’re ok. We’re going home, ok? We’re almost there. Mommy is here with you and your mom is waiting for you. You’re ok, baby.” Kara is crying so hard you barely make out what she’s saying.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I love you.”

“I love you, little one. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.” She keeps repeating that until you close your eyes. You can finally let go, you said everything. She knows you’re sorry, she knows you love her. So, you stop fighting the inevitable.

You thought you would die. You wished you had died. But you’re still here. You hear voices and you feel hands on your body. Someone’s touching your leg, it hurts like a bitch. Someone is squeezing your hand, it’s reassuring. Someone’s kissing your forehead over and over again, it’s calming.

You keep waking up and blacking out. But you don’t think they know this, because you can’t talk, can’t open your eyes, can’t move your body. All you can do is feel pain.

“Baby, my baby. I know you can do this. You can come back to us, please, please. I love you so much, babygirl. You’re my everything.”

“Mom, why isn’t she up yet? It’s been days! You said she would be awake by now.”

“Jamie, I-I don’t… She will wake up, honey. Just give her time, she needs to rest.”

“No. No, mom. She’s supposed to be up by now! Bring her back! Do something!”

“I’ve done everything I can, Jam. Come on, honey. Let’s go. Come.”

“Alex, there must be something else we can do.”

“Kara, you know how much I want her back too, I just- I’m sorry, it’s out of my hands now.”

“I wish I could switch places with her.”

“I know, Kar. I know. Go home, you’ve been in here for days. Go see Lena. Go be with your wife.”

You keep wishing you were dead. But you don’t die, and you also don’t come back to life. You’re half alive, and that’s not enough for anyone.

“Hey, little one.” You hear softly, and your heart beats fast. For the first time you feel you have enough strength to do something. You need to let her know you’re still alive. “I brought donuts, and your homework again.”

You try to ask for food, because you’re starving, but you can’t talk.

“I’ve been doing your homework for the past two weeks, and I have to say, I don’t know how you do this. It’s so much stuff, and you still find time to work on your inventions, and go to trainings…”

Yep, your life’s not as easy as it seems.

“Oooh, want to have a laugh? Your teacher sent me your physics homework yesterday and I obviously didn’t know anything, so I asked your mom for help and guess what? Apparently, Lena doesn’t know everything. It took her ten minutes to solve a problem. It was freaking hilarious.”

It sounds hilarious. You wish you were there.

“Hey. Was that a little laugh?” Kara asks and you try to smile again so she can see it. “I’ll tell Lena you laughed at her. Wait, no. I can’t do that, she’ll have hope.” She breathes heavily and your heart shrinks. “Shoot, I’m crying on your homework again. Your teacher will start wondering.”

You want to wake up so badly. You don’t know why your body doesn’t obey you. You’ve been in this bed under the sun for two weeks apparently. Is your body ever going to respond?

“Hold me.” You beg, trying to make your voice come out. It feels like you’re stuck in those nightmares where you feel like you’re screaming, but no one around hears anything. “Please.”

“Alex said we can take you home, with the lights and all. I’m scared, because I know that here, you’re being watched by doctors, but-” You feel her hand stroking your face gently. “I want you to be comfortable, and I want to lay in bed with you all day. So, should I? Should I take you home?”

YES. Please. Do it. Please. All you want is to go home.

“Yeah. I know. We shouldn’t move you too much. We don’t know what’s going on inside you, right? Besides-” You feel Kara’s warmth next to you. “I can lay in here with you, even though Alex tells me not to. We don’t have to tell her, right?” You feel Kara’s arms around and your eyes water immediately. “Baby, are you crying? Did I- Did I hurt you?” She moves away. “ALEX! ALEX! SHE’S CRYING. DO SOMETHING.”

There’s a weird taste on your mouth. Metallic and bitter. You need to get out of this bed, you need to go back to your life. And you feel it has to be now, or it will be never.

You open your eyes, slowly. It’s hard, it’s like they were glued together. It’s all blurry and undefined. You just see bright yellow, but it’s the first time you’re seeing some color in a while so you can’t complain about it.

“Baby! Kara, Alex! She’s awake!” You hear Lena’s voice and you see black and white mixed with the yellow. It’s probably her hair and face, but you can’t know for sure. There are no shapes, just colors. “Baby, baby, it’s ok. Mom is here.” Lena kisses your face and you feel hands on your body. There’s a very strong hand holding yours, and you know it’s Kara, because she is holding so hard it hurts. And you feel Alex’s hands touching your pulsing points.

“Hey, little one. Can you say something?” Kara asks and you open your mouth.

“My bones.” You whisper so slowly it’s pretty much inaudible; you’re sure only Kara can hear you, and only because of her super hearing.

“Oh, oh, sorry.” She stops squeezing your hand and kisses it, gently. “I forgot about the loss of powers.”

Wait, what?

“Ok, you two move away, please.” Now you see red, mixed with the yellow. “Hey kiddo, this is aunt Alex. Listen I have to do a few tests with you, ok? If you can hear me perfectly, blink once.” You blink once. “Perfect. You’re doing really well. Now, if you can see me perfectly, blink once.” You don’t blink. “Oh, ok. Is it blurry?” You blink once. “Ok, don’t worry, it will go back to normal with time. Now, I want you to move your left leg, just a little. Can you do that for me?” You do it.

She then makes you move every part of your body, and slowly but surely you do all that she asks. You hear Kara and Lena’s celebrations next to you and you smile proud of yourself.

“Hey kiddo, that was perfect! Next time you wake up, you will feel a lot better. I promise you.” You feel a squeeze in your hand, and you give her a little smile. “I don’t want you to get tired, so you can go back to sleep now, and we’ll work more later ok?”

“Wait.” You whisper and she puts her ear close to your mouth so she can hear you. “Lena.”

“She wants you.”

Lena takes Alex’ spot, holding your hand and putting her ear close to your face so she can hear you better.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no baby, you don’t have anything to feel sorry for. Everything is alright. Listen.” You feel Lena wiping the tears from your cheeks. “You were right. I’m sorry I made you feel like you’re not the most important thing in the world for me, because you are. You are. Stop-stop worrying about it. Just use everything you have to recover, ok?” You nod weakly. “I love you.”

“We love you.” You hear Kara’s voice and you breathe deep.

“Mommy.” Your voice comes out a little stronger, but it is still just a whisper.

“Mommy is here, little one. I’ve got you. We’ve got you.” Kara says and you close your eyes again. Your body might still ache, but your heart doesn’t ache anymore.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #kara x lena #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #kara x reader #lena x reader #supercorp daughter #reader insert

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danidrabbles · 4 years ago

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Cowboy Like Me - Part One

Story Summary: HERE.

Chapter Summary: Three months after your arrival at Statesman’s Kentucky department, Jack and yourself are sent out on your first assignment together. You find out you didn’t know your partner as well as you thought you did, while Jack is forced to confront the decisions he made one year prior.

Rating: M ......for now.

Word Count: 11.2k (I know...) (also, the irony of this blog being named danidrabbles vs. this word count is not lost on me, trust me)

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence (mentions and use of weapons, mentions of death and murder), alcohol, innuendo but no smut, feeeelings, way too many creative liberties with / assumptions about the art world - I think that’s it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: Absolutely terrifying to share my child in fanfic form with the world, but here we are... This story (even this first chapter) has known many versions, but this final one would not have been here if it hadn’t been for Astrid @javier-pena, who quite literally dragged me through this with her constant encouragement and unlimited enthusiasm. Please read her wonderful Mandalorian fic ‘The Hunt’. Astrid, I’m tipping my imaginary cowboy hat down to say that I can’t thank you enough, darlin’. I also want to mention @frannyzooey and @jura-moon who, with their stories, have inspired me endlessly and relit the writing flame within me that had gone out. Thank you!

PART ONE: LONDON.

“No, wait,” you whisper, and you hold two fingers up to emphasise your words.

“Wasn’t gonna do anything,” Jack hisses back.

The two of you are taking cover behind a broad column, face to face to fit the space together. The footsteps to your side stop, and then there’s the sound of hushed voices, too soft to make out what they’re saying. There are five of them, that much you know, all equipped with a gun.

You nod down at the hand resting on the holster under his arm, raising an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“Not yet,” he clarifies with a sigh. “But hiding here ain’t it… Eventually, it’s only gonna expose us more.”

“We’ve got to wait,” you say. “Listen, they’re eager, right? They’ll come to us, and if we wait for them to come to us, we can take them out in close quarters instead of at long range.” Your head perks up at the soft sounds coming from the other side of the room.

“That’d be a perfect idea if you had your little knives and I had my whip, but we gotta take ‘em out with these,” he reminds you, holding his gun up for you to see. “Remember?”

You sigh, palming the gun still sheathed in the holster on your hip. He’s right, you acknowledge with a nod, it is different without your weapons of choice. “What about visibility?”

Above you, there’s a light flickering on and off, colouring your surroundings in bright red at steady intervals, forcing your eyes to refocus every time colour bleeds back into the room.

“Think it’s a disadvantage for all of us,” he provides.

The sound of footsteps is back, this time almost rhythmical, on your left and right. “They’re probably splitting up,” you whisper, listening again before you add, “Three on the left, two on the right? Maybe?”

He listens, too. “Sounds about right.” Then, he grins. “How ‘bout a little competition, hmm? First one to take out three wins.”

Your face falls and you manage a sharp, “Jack, no,” but shit— He’s already rounding the corner. You have no choice but to come out of hiding to cover him, following only a second after he emerges from behind the column. The sight of the both of you, guns raised, fills the room with silence, until Jack fires a warning shot, which makes the footsteps turn frantic. There’s a sound to your left, and you turn, quickly firing at one of your assailants who has their gun pointed at Jack’s back, hitting them right in the chest.

Jack’s head whips around in surprise. “Thank you, darlin’,” he says, an appreciative smile apparent in-between the flickers of light. “But that one was on my side, so that makes the score one to zero in my favor.”

“All I heard was, ‘First one to take out three wins’, nothing about sides,” you counter. “Which would make it one to zero in my favor.”

“Hmm,” is all he says, and it sounds far too amused.

“What’s that?”

“S’nothing, I just… knew you’d play along if I made you.”

You roll your eyes at his remark, then refocus, scanning your surroundings. There’s crates, columns, some furniture; plenty of places to obscure you from view. You can’t see a thing during the little intervals where the lights aren’t on and it makes you feel dazed, like you’re moving in slow-motion. There’s also no footsteps, so you decide that forcing everyone to the back of the room by checking the hiding places is probably the best course of action, as it will eventually leave them cornered, easier targets. Turning to convey your plans to your partner, you find him gone from your side.

Then there’s a grunt, and a thud, and then Jack’s voice echoes through the room, “One-one.”

Before you can even think of replying, a shot flies over your shoulder, and you dive behind a large crate. You look over the top with narrow eyes, spotting someone hanging from the ceiling. It’s a smart move in theory, but only if you don’t miss; it draws attention, reveals your position. You wait, and when no shot follows, you look over the crate again, seeing the person who just shot at you struggle with their weapon.

You raise your gun, take your aim and hit them in the chest at the exact same moment as the room lights up. Another shot rings out behind you, followed by a groan, and you immediately turn towards the sound. You find Jack standing there, looking far too proud and with a body slung over one of the chairs behind you.

“Thought I’d return the favor and make things exciting,” he says. “That’s two-to-two.”

You offer him a short, fake smile, then move through the room with him. It’s nearly impossible, with Jack wedging himself into your path to be the first to check your corners on account of the current score, and after some frantic shuffling from your target, and some missed shots from you and Jack, there’s only one spot left. You will yourself to focus on the far corner of the room, cross stepping closer and closer with Jack hot on your heels.

“You’re paying attention, right?” Jack says, picking up his step again until he’s slightly ahead of you. You can see the grin on his face form between the flickers of the lights overhead. “’‘Cause I would just hate for you to lose, doll.”

God, you hadn’t even agreed to participate in this pointless bet, but you can’t help but think about how satisfying it would be to wipe that grin right off his face when you win…

Suddenly there’s a shuffle from behind the couch in front of you, followed by a click, and it makes you both duck just before two shots come your way in quick succession. Jack’s hand closes over your upper arm, dragging you behind the fallen table he’s found cover behind, and you’re both silent for a second to listen to more shuffling from your target’s hiding place, followed by two more shots.

“Looks like we’ve successfully trapped our rat in the corner,” Jack says, voice low.

You nod. “Okay, I’ll go, you c—”

“Oh, hell no.” Jack chuckles softly. “Nice try, but I ain’t handin’ you the victory on a silver platter like that.”

Your shoulders drop with a sigh, “You know I don’t actually care about this bet, right? Just need you to cover me.”

He makes a face, then pulls another 10-bullet magazine from the clip around his waist as he thinks. After sliding it into place and pulling his hand back overtop the weapon, a tick confirms the reloading of his gun, and he gives you a quick nod.

“I’m going to need verbal confir—”

“Just fuckin’ go. I’ll cover you.”

Before he can change his mind, or do something decidedly Jack-ish, you step over his body, staying low, as you sneak out of hiding on the opposite side of the table during a moment where the room is covered in darkness. Behind you, you hear Jack mutter a soft curse before he begins shooting in the general direction of where the shots had originated earlier.

You approach carefully, operating out of sight. When you’re close enough, you press your back up against the nearest column. Quickly checking your gun between the flickering lights, you nod to yourself, then hold it close to you as you start to count when your distracted opponent fires back at Jack.

One, two, three…

four, five…

six.

Bingo.

You approach the couch, pointing your gun over it. The man behind it immediately raises his own weapon at you, aims for your chest and fires, but all that follows is a soft click, accompanied by a look of horror on his face at the realization he’s emptied his magazine.

In the split-second you contemplate your options, the bet entering your thoughts again, Jack comes up to stand beside you. You take him in from the corner of your eye. He’s not looking at you but has his gun still firmly held in both hands. When you turn slightly to look up at him, your eyes meet, and you’re sure that in that moment, the exact same thought crosses your minds at the exact same time. You both point your gun down and pull the trigger.

It’s impossible to tell who lands the kill shot in the end.

Jack scoffs, hands dropping to his sides with a shake of his head. “Christ, you liar.”

You’re about to retort when you hear it: a click behind you.

The realization makes your eyes widen, but it’s too late. You hear the shot before you feel it, and it lands right in the middle of your back, making you wobble. Next to you, Jack huffs, hand landing on the back of the couch at the pressure that he’s no doubt also feeling at his back.

It’s silent for what feels like the longest time, save for the heavy breathing behind the two of you. Until…

“You’re out, agents.” Ginger’s voice crackles over the intercom.

The lights flicker on in the room, bright and almost yellow, and the loud buzzer that rings through the practice space indicates the end of training. Around you, everyone rises up from their fake-deaths. They gather around, shrugging out of their protective clothes and celebrating their win, congratulating the last woman standing as they make their way to the exit.

“What the hell, Ginger!” You shout. “You said there were five!”

There’s a soft noise coming through the intercom, before Ginger’s voice is back, “Here’s a refresher: Always verify the information you get, don’t just blindly follow it.”

“Oh, come on…”

Next to you, Jack pulls the magazine of practice bullets from his gun before he holsters it. “It’s not like it really matters,” he says.

“We were just taken out by the recruits,” you scoff. “It matters.”

Meanwhile, your mind is already racing, going over the details of the training, thinking on where you went wrong, but it’s a short contemplation because Ginger is right: You should have confirmed your targets before running out in the open and exposing yourself, have a better plan... Which reminds you—

“Hey,” you say, drawing Jack’s attention again. “Next time I would appreciate a little heads up if you’re going to disappear on me like that,” you say, jabbing your thumb over your shoulder. “I mean, if I can’t even trust you during training, how am I supposed to trust you when we get back out there?”

His eyes narrow and it’s like he’s about to say something, then thinks better of it and turns away from you. “We ain’t going anywhere anytime soon anyway.” His voice is stained with spite and immediately after he says it, he starts making his way towards the exit.

You huff as you pull at the velcro straps to get the vest off your body and drop it into the container with the rest of the protective clothes next to the door, before following after him.

He isn’t wrong, per se. You don’t know about the details because it seems to be a sensitive topic judging from the one time you brought it up, but Jack had been put on non-active months ago after a mission in Cambodia and hasn’t been sent out by Statesman since. After a bit of an unconventional first meeting between the two of you, Champ, the head of Statesman, had decided that partnering you two up would be a good idea. Truthfully, it made sense; Jack’s a senior agent who needs to be eased back into things, you’re a junior agent who could learn from him while you could keep him reined in.

But it’s been three months since and you still haven’t been sent out on a mission, and it isn’t how you envisioned your transfer to this division of Statesman to be.

You imagined high-stakes missions, traveling the world, learning from the best—

Okay, maybe that last part had worked out.

Truth be told, Jack had proven himself a very capable agent from the very moment you met, but it didn’t really sink in until one of your first training sessions, when you discovered Jack insisted on carrying around a lasso and whip on top of this Statesman issued gun. You laughed it off at first, thinking it was just part of his cowboy-like fashion sense. Then he opted to practice his lasso skills on you, betting he could catch you with it in under a minute. Figuring it would take him more than a minute to even find you in the large training space, you agreed. In hindsight, the smirk on his face when he asked should have been enough for you to realize your mistake right away. He found you, got the rope looped around your body, and, rather indignantly, forced you to the ground; all in under 36 seconds.

It wasn’t until after, when the rope was looped around a rubber target dummy, that he showed you the lasso could turn electric…

You continued your sessions together, learning to anticipate each other’s moves, play off of them to use it against your opponent; getting a routine down and using the training time to prepare for your missions. But there’s only so much preparing you can do, especially with someone who is as much of a wildcard as Jack, someone who often makes his own plan. But the missions never came, causing Jack to become somewhat of a ticking time bomb, closer to exploding with each passing day that you weren’t sent out. You’re sure Champ has noticed by now, but still, he insists on having you train together more. And, on occasion, that means playing target practice for the new Statesman recruits.

“Being taken out by the recruits isn’t going to improve our chances, you know.” You jog after him until you’re walking next to him.

“That mean we should just take it?” Jack asks, manoeuvring through the corridors back to the main building, bumping your shoulder occasionally.

“Whatever happened to, ‘You know me darlin’, I’m always jumpin’ at the chance to pencil in a little extra training time with you’?” you manage in your best impression of his voice to echo the words he said before the two of you entered the training space earlier.

“I changed my mind and thought of something better, that’s what happened,” he says, looking at you before gesturing between the two of you. “Us two, puttin’ all our hard work to good use out there in the field. And I don’t mean any funny business.”

“Hmm, yeah, no, exactly, ‘cause we don’t practice that kind of stuff.”

You set it up for him, and you have a feeling he knows but can’t help himself. One corner of his mouth turns up, and you consider the slight change in his demeanour a small victory.

“But we could.”

You chuckle, open your mouth to reply—

“I know, I know.” He grins, before you can say anything. “Just puttin’ it out there, lest you forget.”

He stops walking, so you do as well, standing next to him and leaning against the wall as to not obstruct the hallway. He turns towards you and for a moment you just look at him as he sighs and combs his fingers through his hair while the furrow returns to his brow. “But… Christ, don’t you wanna get back out there?”

“Of course I do,” you say with a sigh. “At this rate that recruit dangling from the ceiling is going to get a mission before we do.”

“See! That’s what I’m talking about, partner.” He leans in, lowers his voice like he’s about to tell you a secret, “I say we—”

“Hey, Whiskey!” The exclamation echoes through the hall, followed by your own code name. Both your heads perk up at the sound, finding one of the recruits at the end of the hall. “Ginger’s asking for you two!”

Ginger Ale’s promotion to handler meant that she was able to enjoy a lot more of Statesman’s luxuries, including her own office. As you walk in, you can’t help but notice how nice it is: It is spacious, but modest with the way she has decorated it, has a gorgeous view and is full of the latest tech; it is exactly what she deserves.

You’ve gotten to know her well during the past few months. She is intelligent and resourceful, warm and encouraging. Her work is thorough and precise; she cares a great deal about the details of a mission, and you have no doubt that you could always trust her if she were to ever guide you through one.

But training is another story, apparently…

“I’m not accepting any repercussions for that training,” you say the moment you spot her by the window.

Ginger chuckles at that, and it sounds unlike her, like she’s nervous. It’s almost as intriguing as the next words she speaks, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t call you in here for that. Why don’t you have a seat?”

You shoot a quick glance at Jack, who looks equally responsive despite his silence; lips pursed, an eyebrow cocked. He strides towards her desk to take her up on her invitation, and sits down in one of the two chairs opposite her workspace. You follow quickly, taking a seat in the empty chair beside him, looking up at Ginger as she makes her way to the see-through screen on her desk.

Ginger taps the screen twice, and it lights up. It’s full of pictures of the same man, all taken on different occasions. He’s slender, mid-40s, you’d guess, with a pair of round glasses perched on his nose and has blond, wild hair, some of it missing on the top of his head.

“Nathaniel Jones,” Jack says, leaning in to take a closer look at the pictures. “Nathan resurfaced?”

“Yes,” Ginger says.

“I’m sorry, um, who is Nathan?” you ask, looking from Jack to Ginger and back.

“He’s an art thief,” Ginger answers.

“Not just an art thief, he’s one of the best, even wanted by the good folks at Interpol,” Jack corrects, turning to you. “Steals pieces all over the world and replaces ‘em with fakes, good fakes, then sells ‘em. They even suspect him of stealin’ an ancient Chinese gu from an exhibition in Nanjing, which he kept for his own personal collection. Think he might be capable of puttin’ the Gardner Museum theft to shame someday…” He trails off.

You nod, not entirely sure what that means, but you’re sure it would be an impressive feat. And Jack would know. While he’s been on non-active, Jack has taken up a new hobby: art history. You didn’t think he’d be the man for it, but apparently when Jack sets his sights on something, he goes a little hard, and if the many times he’s threatened to ‘leave the agency and live off that sweet, sweet art appraiser salary’ are anything to go by, he is quite good.

“However, no one has been able to catch him. He leaves no physical evidence, but he always allows himself to be photographed, as you can see,” Ginger says, gesturing towards the screen.

“Show off,” Jack scoffs. “Where did they spot him?”

“London,” Ginger replies, tapping the screen again to reveal an aerial map of the city centre, two red dots corresponding with some of the pictures she’s shown you earlier. “There’s a big auction coming up and he’s expected to strike.”

Suddenly, her words are kicking in. Nathan is like.. he is kind of like a target, isn’t he? And he was spotted in London… Expected to attend an event where he could get caught...

“Ginger, are you—are you saying what I think you’re saying? You’re sending us on a mission?”

“Yes and no. It’s…” Ginger hesitates, eyes flickering to Jack quickly, then continues, “It’s a mission, but it’s not our mission. It’s… It’s at the request of Kingsman.”

But it’s a mission. A real mission, in London. And it's perfect. With Jack's art expertise and both your skills as agents, you’re sure you’d be an excellent addition to the Kingsman team for this mission. A mission. Finally—

“We ain’t goin’.”

—and then Jack says that. His voice is low and dead serious, lacking any hint of sarcasm. “You know I’m not fucking doing that.”

It takes you completely by surprise, and you whip your head around to him so quickly that the muscles in your neck protest. "What?"

He ignores the question, stares straight at Ginger. Something is seriously wrong. He’s tense, maybe even more than you’ve ever seen him. It’s in the way his jaw twitches, and how he’s gripping the arms of the chair, but most of all in his eyes; it’s something you can’t place.

“They just need someone who can look at the pieces they have at the auction house, to authenticate and appraise them before the auction,” Ginger says, “and an extra couple eyes to do surveillance during the auction.”

"You should send someone else, ‘cause I ain't doin’ it."

Ginger sighs. “You think I would ask this of you if there was someone else who could do it?”

“Come on, Ginger,” Jack laughs bitterly, a thumb coming up to swipe at his bottom lip. “No art appraisers available in London?”

“You know they can't just get a civilian in on this.” Ginger sounds frustrated now.

"Well, it’s what Kingsman is gonna have to do."

You raise a brow at the way he snarls at the word ‘Kingsman’. So that’s what this is about. “Okay,” you begin, speaking in the kindest, most understanding tone you can manage as you turn towards your incredibly stubborn partner. “Okay, clearly there’s something going on here, with - with the Kingsman, right? But maybe by going there you can…,” you gesture with your hands to find the right words, “work it out?”

He seems to consider this, lips pursing further, not looking at either you or Ginger, and after some moments of quiet contemplation, he begins to sit up. “Hypothetically — and by that I do mean hypothetically — if I were to agree… Do they even know I’m the one comin’ to consult?”

“Jack—”

“It’s a simple question,” Jack interrupts, voice slightly raised. “Yes or no?”

You give Ginger a hopeful look, but her silence says enough.

Jack lifts himself out of the chair, drawing the same conclusion. “Then there’s no chance in hell.”

"Well, do I get a say in this at all?" Your voice comes out angrier than you intended, but it’s fitting. You are angry. Angry that he’s making decisions without you again, angry that he would blow this chance for the both of you after he hasn’t shut up about how he wants to get sent out on a mission.

"Not in this one,” Jack all but barks at you.

You rise up from your chair. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, doll, but I’m not going all the way to London to help Kingsman as some sort of… last hurray before we're back to bein’ fucking… practice bait for the recruits!" Rounding the chair, Jack makes his way to the doors to Ginger’s office.

You're about to go after him, demand he tell you what the fuck the big deal with Kingsman even is, when Ginger speaks,

"What if it isn't one last hurray?"

Jack keeps walking. “Don’t bother.”

“If you go, I can talk to Champ about sending you out on more assignments.”

Now that makes Jack stop in his tracks. He doesn’t quite turn around yet, his back is still to Ginger and yourself, but he does angle his head to the side to indicate he heard her. It’s something. You can feel your anger simmering down and your heartbeat picking up; hopeful at Jack’s hesitance, giddy at the prospect of more missions. “And all I have to do is look at the pieces?” His voice is barely any louder than a whisper.

“Look at the pieces, authenticate and appraise them, surveillance,” Ginger summarises. “That’s it.”

His hands find his hips with a sigh, and he tips his head down. He stays like that, oh so still… “Tell them I’ll do it,” he says, “but not because I want to.” Then he pushes the door open and walks away.

“So…” You draw the word out before clicking your tongue.

You’re sitting across from Jack on the jet, still a long way from London. Ginger has arranged for one pretty much right away. Once you’ve gotten over your initial, dazzling impression of the jet – it is enormous, far too much for just two people, with a literal pool table in the middle and a fucking bar with two doors next to it that lead to the sleeping compartments – you begin quietly observing him.

He hasn’t spoken a word since you left Kentucky and, if anything, he seems to get more miserable the closer you get to your destination. The longer you see him like this, the more your enthusiasm for the mission cools, and the more you actually start to get worried this is a bad idea after all.

You have waited as long as your curiosity, and the tension, allow for it, but given the explosive start of this whole thing, you’re certain you have to know the apparent history between him and Kingsman. You’ve tried asking Ginger, as she certainly knows more about it, but she insisted it wasn’t her place to tell you. So, really, you have no choice but to bring it up now.

“When are you going to tell me what the deal is with you and Kingsman?”

“Nothin’ for you to worry about,” comes his instant reply, clearly having anticipated your question. He’s got one hand cupped along his jaw to support his head so he can stare out the small circular window, while his shoulders, judging from his posture and the expression on his face, are currently supporting the weight of the world. “It’s all gonna be just fine.”

You scoff. “Please. I’ve known you for some time now, I’ve seen you in a lot of moods, but I’ve never seen you sulk, and…,” you gesture towards him, slumped back in his seat as he is, “…you’re sulking, Jack. Clearly there’s a good reason for that.”

He sits up at your remark, adjusts his hat, then pinches the bridge of his nose, giving you a clear sign that he doesn’t want to have this conversation – at all, but especially right now. You give him a few more seconds, but when it’s clear he isn’t going to speak, you try another direction.

“Is it um, is it about Cambodia?” you gently pry.

“Woman, can’t you take a hint?” he grunts. “Or do you just like getting a rise outta me?”

“I’m not asking just because I’m curious what can get such a rise out of you,” you say. “This is an assignment, technically it’s our first official one - the bank doesn’t count,” you add quickly. “And I would just like to be a little more prepared than last time.”

“The bank counts.”

“We didn’t even know—”

“The bank counts,” he repeats, and he probably thinks he’s being oh so funny and clever right now, focussing in on your mention of your first meeting like he isn’t doing it just to try to change the subject.

“I want to know what I’m about to walk into, Jack,” you say sharply.

“We all want things, darlin’,” he says with a sigh, getting up from his seat. “I for one would like ya to stop bringin’ this up.” And then he walks off to quite possibly the only place he can escape to right now, announcing, “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Sooner or later I will find out about it, you know that, right?” you call after him, your final attempt to make him just tell you what happened.

He hesitates – it's brief, but he does, a slight change in his step, a twitch of his upper arm. But he doesn’t stop, leaving you to watch as he slips through one of the doors next to the bar and disappears out of sight.

You will yourself to keep working and wait for him to return, thumbing through the thick files Ginger sent along. But as more time passes, the letters begin to dance in front of your eyes and your eyelids get heavy with sleep. Had this seat been this comfortable before? Your body sags into the leather and you allow your thoughts to drift away from your partner’s mysterious history with Kingsman. After all, you think, naively, trying to justify letting the sleep overtake you, if Jack has decided to accept the assignment, how bad could it really be?

Okay. So. Turns out it could be really bad.

After touching down in London, you’d been escorted straight to the auction house, where Agents Galahad Sr. and Galahad Jr. would meet up with you. Jack had been fidgety the whole ride, leg bouncing as he resorted back to gazing out the window. You don’t know how long he had locked himself away for on the jet, but when you’d woken up, he was back in his seat across from you, case files in his lap but fast asleep, or doing a pretty good job pretending. After arriving, you entered through the sliding glass doors, and spotted two men, both sharply dressed. One was a bit older than the other, and the older one wore a pair of glasses that left one eye obscured from view. The older man had barely taken your hand in his to introduce himself, when his colleague spotted Jack, and all hell had broken loose.

Currently, you and the man you now know as Harry, if all the frantic yelling from the other agent is anything to go by, are forced to settle what has become a standoff between Jack and Harry’s colleague. They’re standing across from each other, weapons pointed at each other after Harry’s colleague aimed his at Jack, to which Jack pulled his own gun from its holster and pointed it at the other man.

“What the fuck is this, Harry? What is he doing here?”

There’s something about his tone that confirms beyond his actions that he’s more than furious. You feel a flush creep up your neck in response to the situation you find yourself in; you feel embarrassed that you have no idea what’s going on.

“Eggsy,” Harry says. “There’s no need for theatrics.”

“He’s right. Jack, put the gun away,” you say.

“Like hell – I’ll put my gun away when he puts his gun away,” Jack answers, his eyes never leaving Eggsy’s hands.

“I— Me? I should put my gun away?” Eggsy scoffs. “I’m not even puttin’ my gun down around you. Last time you pulled a gun on me, you tried to kill me—” He looks at Harry, “You tried to kill us.”

Jack sighs. “Listen, things are different now—”

He’s saying more after that, but all that you’re hearing is that he isn’t denying it, and it replaces the flush from earlier with goosebumps that break out all over your body. That’s why he didn’t want to come here. Jack, your partner Jack, had attempted to kill two Kingsman agents.

“Why are you so calm about this, Harry?” Eggsy’s voice comes out strained, and it almost sounds like a plea.

“Agent Galahad,” Harry says sharply. “You know we can’t let our personal feelings get in the way. I simply think we should give Agent Whiskey a chance to do the job he came here to do.”

“Yes,” you blurt out. “I swear, that’s all we came here to do; do the appraisal and help with the surveillance later. After that, we’ll be out of your hair.”

Eggsy looks from you to Harry and back, gripping the gun so hard it shakes, then lowers it with a sigh. “You better.” He turns his attention back to Jack. “Or I swear, I’m gonna put so many fuckin’ bullets in you that no amount of Alpha-Gel can fix it. You got that?”

“Loud and clear.”

You heave a sigh of relief when the men holster their weapons, and as if knowing exactly when to appear, the auction house assistant enters the room, blissfully oblivious to what she had just missed out on.

Her accent is posh, especially compared to Eggsy’s, when she says, “I see everyone has arrived. Shall we?”

As she leads you to the room where the paintings are being kept, the auction house assistant informs you about them. They’re all part of a week-long event, an auction to help out up and coming artists. It’s all information you already know from the preliminary work you did for this assignment. What you don’t know is that artists usually make little to nothing from their art being sold at auction houses, but that this auction has a scoop: The artists will receive royalties from works sold on the secondary market. The works up for auction tomorrow are among the most anticipated, and they’re expected to sell at a high price. And even though you’re no art expert, you can certainly see why when the assistant leads you into the room where the works are stored.

The white walls are adorned with paintings of the most beautiful artworks. They’re all landscapes -– cherry blossom by a lake, a cave lit in a way that could be described as enchanting, a waterfall between oddly shaped high rocks, a lavender field at sundown. But they’re painted in a way unlike anything you’ve ever seen on account of the dazzling colours and unusual brush strokes. It instantly makes you want to look closer; it makes you want to touch, flit your fingers over the bumps of dried paint – an instinct you obviously don’t act upon, but you want to. It’s bitter to imagine how such stunning works would not have benefitted the artist if it would be sold at another auction house…

Jack looks equally impressed, whistling as he looks around the room before he gets to work. As he does, you watch curiously, from a distance as not to disturb him – Eggsy’s leaning against the wall next to him, much less subtle about his observant role. While you watch, you take note of the care Jack is putting into his work right now, unusually patient in his methods, evident in the way the gloved tips of his fingers brush along the canvasses, how he uses his pocket magnifying glass to inspect the painting from top to bottom, and the soft tone he uses with the assistant. It’s the kind of stuff you’ve never really been able to see him do, you realize, so different from all the tactical training you went through the past few months.

By the time he’s nearly done, you’re deep in conversation with Harry. He’s polite and to the point, with a rich voice and a kind laugh. And clearly, he’s no fool. You had struck up the conversation in hopes of prying some information out of him about Jack’s history with Kingsman, but Harry changes the subject each time you try, focusing back on the “extraordinary artwork”. It’s like the universe is conspiring against you, waiting to drop the other shoe at the right moment – or maybe these agents are just too well trained…

“That fuckin’…” Lost in thought as you are, you’re startled when you suddenly hear Jack’s voice sail through the room. “We’ve got a problem,” he declares, rounding the corner, coming back into view with Eggsy hot on his heels. He’s striding over with large steps as he plucks the latex gloves off his hands, and the concern on his face is apparent; his lips are pressed together in a thin line and his brows are furrowed. He comes to a halt in front of Harry and yourself, his fingers brushing along his chin before he explains himself, “So, all of ‘em are exactly as I expected ‘em, right? Until I get to the last one, inspect the brushstrokes and… something don’t add up. I think he’s already made the switch.”

Jack’s unexpected discovery at the auction house had led to a small crisis. From Eggsy, who demanded to know how Jack was so sure and if he wasn’t aiding a wanted criminal again. And from the auction house personnel, who started a frantic investigation into how someone could have gotten in and out of the secured room. It was a mystery that was quickly solved when they pulled up the security footage from last night, which showed Nathan, dressed as someone from the cleaning crew, rounding the corner where the switched artwork was located with a cleaning cart, and reappeared with it moments later.

No one expected Nathan to strike before the auction; the thief usually operates in plain sight during the events he targets. It forced Harry, Eggsy, Jack and yourself to rethink your strategy, and you had agreed to meet up early next morning to come up with a new plan. The stiff goodbyes you’d shared with the Kingsman agents served as a cold reminder of how you’d arrived here.

And even now, as you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, it’s an unpleasant feeling you can’t shake, a feeling that’s keeping you from sleeping more than the jetlag. Before you can think any better of it, you’re up, through the door, walking down the hallway, and knocking on Jack’s hotel room door. He opens almost immediately, and that, combined with the way he’s still dressed in yesterday’s clothes and is doing a poor job of hiding the half-empty whiskey bottle on the dresser behind him, leads you to believe he hasn’t slept a wink, either.

“Hi,” you say, brushing past him and into the room.

“You know,” he says as he closes the door, a slight slur in his voice apparent. “This isn’t how I imagined it.”

The comment throws you off. “This isn’t how you imagined what?” you ask with a frown.

He gestures towards you. “You, barging into my hotel room.”

“I—”

“Usually less clothes involved,” he interrupts with a chuckle as he walks toward the dresser and plucks the bottle off of there.

“Yeah, well…” you look down at yourself, at your sweatpants, the soft dark blue T-shirt you’re wearing, “I’m sorry this isn’t doing it for you, Jack.”

He looks up at you, cocks his head with a grin. “Oh, I didn’t say that, darlin’.”

You sigh. You’re used to this endless back and forth, the pet names, it’s what Jack does with everyone, but you’re no longer in the mood to play into his little game. “I’m not here to get you into bed, Jack.”

“Good,” he says, and he doesn’t miss a beat when he adds, “in my dreams we don’t make it to—”

“I’m here to give you one final chance to tell me what happened between you and Kingsman,” you say with a raised voice before he’s even finished.

He makes his way over to a glass table by the window where his tumbler is waiting for him, and he pours it half-full. “And what if I don’t?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. You don’t want to give him the chance to derail the conversation by hiding behind his wit. Or walking away. You’re serious, this is serious, and you want him to know it is. “If you don’t, then that means I can’t trust you.” This time, it’s you who doesn’t miss a beat when you add, “and Jack, if I can’t trust you, I can’t be your partner.” Maybe it’s a weak threat, but it’s the truth. This is your first mission together and he’s already keeping things from you. How could a partnership possibly work like this?

You’re surprised when he doesn’t immediately have a smart retort for you. Instead, your words make him freeze, and if you didn’t know better you swear it makes him sober up. You know that he can tell you’re not kidding around, can practically see the cogs turning in his head in what you assume is him making a quick list of pros and cons. After some time, he reaches for a second glass, pouring two fingers before simply asking, “Drink?”

“Depends.”

He thrusts the glass in your direction. “Take the drink and sit down.” He gestures towards one of the leather chairs next to the table, but you stand your ground, looking at his extended arm but not taking the drink from his hand. “Please,” he says, and with the way his voice slightly goes up at the end, it’s almost a question.

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, and your legs are walking you towards him before you’ve even really accepted his invitation. You take the glass from him and plop down in the chair with a huff. You still can’t really tell if he’s serious, so you wait for him to speak.

Jack brings the glass to his mouth, throwing its contents back with one big gulp before refilling it and taking a seat himself. His hand moves up to his face, two fingers rubbing along his moustache as he looks at you and gnaws at his lip. “I erm— It’s not—” Then he averts his gaze, and after a beat of silence he settles on, “It’s a long story, though.”

You’re taken aback, not used to seeing him like this. You’ve gotten to know Jack as charming, confident, cool, but while he is stuttering out his reply, the flush in his neck creeps up to his face, and his shell seems to be cracking. He is flustered, maybe even anxious, and you have a feeling that he’s not exaggerating when he says that it’s a long story.

You nip at your drink, the oaky taste with hints of vanilla settling pleasantly in your mouth before burning down your throat. “I have plenty of time to listen.”

And so you do. You listen to him explain how Kingman and Statesman worked together to stop Poppy Adams and take down her toxic drug empire. But that, somewhere along the mission, his personal feelings got in the way. After purposefully breaking a vial of the antidote they’d stolen from one of Poppy’s facilities on Mont Blanc, he had been shot in the head by Harry, who suspected him of being a traitor. Luckily, Eggsy had reacted quickly by using Alpha-Gel, effectively saving his life. (“Even got the battle scars to prove it,” he says, pointing at the scar on the side of his face). The next thing he remembered was waking up in Kentucky, where Ginger brought his memory back. He followed the Kingsman agents to Poppy’s hideout in Cambodia, where he nearly kept them from releasing the antidote worldwide, before they overpowered him and brought him back to the States in cuffs. Naturally, he was suspended indefinitely.

Throughout his story, you’re dead silent, hanging onto his every word as you sip your drink.

“Guess I kept this from you for so long ‘cause… I didn’t want this partnership to end before it properly began. But with you comin’ in here at two in the mornin’, demandin’ to know the truth or else, I figured…” He pauses with a sigh, face twisting into a something you can’t quite place. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

Your brain is failing to process all this information at once, and Jack takes your silence as a prompt to continue,

“And I hate it. ‘Cause for the first time in a long time, I was havin’ some fun again.” He nods at his own statement, then looks up at you, his eyes searching your face. “When we were training together and you picked up on everything I was doin’… You anticipatin’ all my moves made me wanna anticipate all o’your moves, to become attuned to you and your…your stupid little knives.” His smile falters, and there’s that look again. “I mean, we’re a good team, aren't we?”

Jack’s always chatty, but the way he’s talking right now he’s being downright loquacious. It’s probably on account of the whiskey, but it still makes you choose your words carefully, unable to be as blunt or demanding as you were earlier. “All of that training stuff,” you begin, “I think it means nothing if we can’t be honest with each other.” You pause, so your words can really land with him, before asking, “Can I trust you to do that?”

“After all that, can you trust me to do that?” He’s making that face again, and the flush on his cheeks is back and—

Oh.

You completely forget about his question because suddenly you can place the look on his face: He’s ashamed.

He’s ashamed and he thinks you’ll see him differently from this point on and that that’s why— Wait. Do you? The weight of his story is starting to catch up to you. Because holy shit, the Poppy Adams situation last year was intense. You remember the TV broadcastings, the utter chaos across the globe, but nothing about Cambodia that could have made you connect the dots previously. Had Jack succeeded when he went after Harry and Eggsy to stop them from releasing the antidote, millions of people would have died – literally millions. Which— Yeah, that’s a lot to process. Your partner almost played a key part in allowing that to happen…

Almost.

Because here he is, all the tell-tale signs of shame suddenly apparent; the way he’s turned away from you, how his eyes keep darting away from yours, the red splotches on his neck, his quivering Adam’s apple. However, you also know that feeling ashamed isn’t the same as feeling guilty. You can feel ashamed over something that you’ve done, freeze and feel your gut twist at the memory, but still feel like it was a necessary evil. Does he feel any remorse for what he’s done? Just like that, there’s only one thing that really matters, that you need to know.

“Do you regret it?” you ask. He’s silent, and as you watch his finger trace the rim of his glass with a frown, you can tell that wasn’t what he was expecting, so you elaborate, “Cambodia, I mean.”

It makes his frown ease up. “All the time.”

You can feel yourself sag into the leather in relief before taking another swig from your glass. The whiskey seems to make you lose-lipped as well, because before you can really debate if you should push this any further right now, you’re firing another question at him. “Then why did you do it?”

It doesn’t sound accusatory – or you don’t mean it that way, at least. It’s simply curious, but it still makes Jack twitch, the liquid in his glass sloshing around with it. And as flushed as he was before on account of his candour and the alcohol, your question seems to drain all the colour from his cheeks.

“No, don’t—” He cuts himself off and grimaces at his own sharp tone, quickly correcting himself to something softer, “I think that’s enough story time for tonight, alright?”

It’s not enough, not really, but still you find yourself nodding, setting your empty tumbler down on the glass table that separates you. “We should...get some sleep, be prepared for tomorrow,” you say, standing up from the chair, wincing when you take note of the clock.

Jack makes a noise that somehow sounds detached; it’s not agreement, but not disagreement either. He makes no haste to get up, so you simply look down at him from where you stand. “See you in the morning?”

“Sweet dreams, darlin’,” is what he offers with a lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

You return the sentiment with some words of your own, but have a feeling it’s in vain, that his bed will stay unkempt as it is, before you let yourself out of his room. And when the door closes behind you with a soft click, you’re left with your thoughts again, and you realize the conversation has done nothing to make you sleep easier either.

“Excellent, there you are.”

You’re fresh out of the car that has escorted you to a tailor shop in London. It was early. So fucking early. You hadn’t slept and can still taste hints of oak and vanilla in your throat every time you swallow. But now, inside, after passing through a secret door behind one of the changing rooms in the tailor shop, Harry’s voice is warm, dare you say pleased, when Jack and yourself report for duty, and something about his optimistic tone makes you forget about the early hour and the hotel whiskey. It makes your shoulders straighten and your head cock with interest.

And you’re clearly not the only one.

“Found anything?” Jack asks.

Harry leads you to a wall full of screens, where a Kingsman agent is frantically typing on the keyboard in front of him. “One of our agents found the stolen piece for sale on the black market.” One of the screens displays some sort of advertisement on what looked like the dark web; it had several marketplaces for illegal stolen goods.

“Son of a bitch is trying to get rid of it before the auction’s even started.” Jack scoffs.

You jerk your chin at the screen. “We need to ambush him, catch him red-handed.”

“Arrange a meeting,” Jack agrees.

“Precisely,” Harry nods.

“I’ll go,” Jack says instantly.

“Fuck no.” You hadn’t even noticed Eggsy until now. He’s leaning against one of the walls, then pushes himself off, making his way over with his arms crossed over his chest. “Absolutely not. I’ll go.”

“‘course you are” Jack scoffs. “Probably couldn’t tell the difference between a watercolour and an acrylic painting to save your life.” The statement is more of a murmur, but it sets Eggsy off all the same.

“What’s that?”

“You couldn’t sell the bit, Galahad!” Jack exclaims. “We ain’t got the time to fight about this while someone else steals the piece from right under our sorry noses. I’m the most competent man for the job and this bastard has been doing this for years now, so we really should be fixin’ to get ourselves this meeting.”

It’s Eggsy’s turn to scoff. “Oh, so you can excuse mass murder, but draw the fuckin’ line at art theft, Whiskey?” He all but spits out Jack’s codename, walking up to him until their toes almost touch.

Jack’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath, no doubt firing up to counter, but before he can even open his mouth, you raise your voice.

“Alright, stop puffing your chests out at each other, Christ.” Neither of them so much as bat an eye. “Obviously we both want this target, correct? You asked for a Statesman agent with art knowledge, and well, this is him. So, let’s just work on this together, be professionals, and then be fucking done with this assignment. We send Jack to the meet—”

“No—” Eggsy immediately interrupts.

“Jack is going to the meet,” you repeat louder, giving Eggsy a look. “He’s the least likely to be made because he actually possesses the art knowledge to make it convincing and…,” you pause for a second to swallow, and the taste of whiskey still prevalent in your mouth immediately takes you back to the night before, “…and I know you don’t trust him, but I do. I can vouch for him, hell, I’ll even go with him if it makes you all feel better, but Jack goes.”

You don’t miss the way Jack’s head whips around to you, but before you can turn to meet his gaze, Eggsy is speaking again. “He’ll make you right away.”

“You have a tech guy here, right?” You ignore his statement to continue explaining your plan. Your hands land on the shoulders of the man behind the keyboard. “Pretty sure he can put together some fake credentials and create the fake online presence of a pristine, wealthy art collector – a website, social media, news articles, the works. We’ll suggest a public place to meet up, like a restaurant, all to give the target some false sense of security… and then we take him in.”

No one says anything for a while, until Harry, who had been watching the scene before him silently, finally gives his verdict, “I think it sounds like a fine plan. Get to work,” he orders the Kingsman agent behind the keyboard.

“And what about you?” Eggsy asks you, clearly displeased.

You shrug. “I don’t know, I can pose as like… a waitress?”

You adjust your tie in the mirror or the restaurant bathroom, then fold the collar of your dress shirt into place and smooth your hands down over the apron you’re wearing; to play the part you have to look the part. Although… You’re pretty sure the average waiter doesn’t have knives and a gun hidden away in a thigh holster under their apron. You hadn’t been entirely serious, but you were nothing if not true to your word, playing the role you’d suggested. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror before exiting the restaurant bathroom to take your position.

As you enter the restaurant, you find it’s mostly empty, just like Kingsman has arranged it to be. Your eyes find Jack, tucked away into a corner close to the door, having also done his best to look the part. His hair is in its usual side part, but somewhat slicked back, and he’s wearing a navy suit that’s much fancier than the ones he usually wears. You pass his table quickly, your eyes meeting briefly, and he nods at you once as you take your place in front of the window across from his table.

Daytime is the perfect time at a restaurant to clean the windows, right?

Your supplies to really sell your performance are already waiting for you, and you reach down to dip a cloth into the warm water, wringing it out above the bucket before bringing it up to the window. Via the glass, you can see the reflection of the table Jack’s sitting at, and the look on his face makes you want to turn to him, to reassure him one last time—

“I’ve got eyes,” Harry’s voice suddenly informs you through your earpiece. “Target approaching on foot, alone.”

Behind you, Jack sits up at the message, face transforming, relaxing, visibly slipping into the role of rich art collector. You focus yourself back on your work, rubbing the cloth along the window as your eyes search for the target through the glass. And then you see him approaching the restaurant with quick, short steps. He’s even more slender in person, but has the same pair of round glasses perched on his nose. His short, blond hair dances in the wind, and he brings one hand up to smooth it back down onto his head while the other hand carries a black briefcase.

You bring your hand up to the side of your face and press the little button on the earpiece. “Target confirmed,” you say. “Permission to continue mission?”

“Message received,” comes Harry’s reply. “Continue mission. Good luck, agents.”

Nathan enters the restaurant shortly after, and you will yourself to focus on your fake task at hand. Leaning down to wet the cloth again before getting back to work, you hear Nathan and Jack making introductions, and in the reflection you see him take his place across from Jack, setting his briefcase down next to his chair.

“I must say I’m surprised about getting an offer so soon.” Nathan checks his watch. “The auction hasn’t yet ended and the piece we discussed is… at the auction.”

“Technically,” Jack replies.

The man chuckles at that. “Technically, indeed.” He pauses, narrows his eyes. “Tell me, how did you know?”

Jack folds his hands and places them on the table as he begins his story. “Given my… reputation, I was allowed to view the pieces ahead of the auction and I found myself… distressed, when I realized my personal favourite piece was, in fact, a forgery. You see, it was damn near perfect, but then I noticed the brushstrokes; the way they were angled. I know about your…” Jack pauses, searching for the right word, “methods, and I knew I had to get in contact. Figured I could get the piece for a much better price from you than I could at any auction.”

“And how would you know about my…,” Nathan pauses, mirroring Jack’s earlier intonation, “methods?”

Shit. There’s a slight hitch in your stroke of the cloth along the window. What if he just made Jack? In the reflection you can see your partner’s look of contemplation, how he’s almost calculating what to say next and how to do it. You drop the fabric from your hand to land into the bucket by your feet, and take the dishcloth that’s slung over your shoulder to wipe your hands dry as you listen.

“I’m simply an admirer. Of this work, o’course,” Jack says, gesturing towards the briefcase next to the chair. “But also of your work.” Jack leans in, speaks softly when he asks, “Is it true, about the Chinese gu?”

Nathan doesn’t answer definitively, but his lips purse in a pleased smile before he pushes his glasses farther up his nose. “You’ve done your homework.” He sounds impressed, and you can’t help but be amused at the way Jack’s feeding this guy exactly what he needs to hear right now.

Leaning back in the chair, Jack matches the other man’s expression and gives him a casual shrug. “Told you, I’m an admirer.” He pauses, eyes drifting down to the case next to the chair, then asks, “Can I see the piece?”

There’s a long moment where Nathan doesn’t answer, but then, without a word, he reaches for the briefcase, clicks it open and gives Jack a view of the artwork inside.

Jack whistles. “Gorgeous,” he says, looking up at Nathan with an impressed smile. “Your replica looks just like it.”

Nathan smiles proudly, and you know you’ve got him when you hear what he says next, “You won’t believe how easy it is, especially with these smaller pieces.” He seems to catch himself, too; cheeks flushing the slightest bit before he’s checking his watch again. “Listen, I hate to cut this short, but I have another appointment; let's wrap this up, shall we?”

Jack shifts, looking down as if he’s contemplating the question. “I don’t think so.” He reaches inside of his suit jacket, produces his gun from its holster and points it at Nathan under the table, removing the safety with a soft click. “You’re gonna come outside with me – calmly, quietly, no need to make a fuss – and we’re gonna make sure every bit of stolen artwork is gonna go back to their rightful owners.”

Across from him, Nathan moves fast – surprisingly fast. He pulls his own gun from his jacket, points it at Jack. “Do you think I’d come here unprepared? I’ll tell you how we’re gonna do this: You’re gonna let me walk—”

As he talks, you glance over your shoulder, take in their positions, guns out but hidden from view of the rest of the restaurant. You look at Jack, and he doesn’t look at you, but his head jerks in a short nod. You turn away again, hand slipping under your apron, fingers flitting over one of the smaller blades in the holster before slowly slipping it out of the leather.

“—I mean, what’s your plan, hmm?” Nathan asks. “To shoot me here? For everyone to see? Whether you’re law enforcement or not, I know you’re not gonna do that.”

Jack’s grip on his gun tightens. “And you are?”

You turn and bend down, and to the untrained eye it would look like you were about to tie your shoelaces. During your movement, you swing the knife and throw it towards the table in front of you. There’s a soft swoosh, and then the knife lands in Nathan’s thigh with a squelching sound. He yelps, reaches for his leg, and in the process, the gun drops from his hand. Jack catches it effortlessly before it can clatter to the ground, then kicks at the bottom of Nathan’s chair. It sends the man tumbling backwards, the wood hitting the floor with a thump. You’re back on your feet in no time, rushing over to shield the man from the view of the few people in the restaurant, shoulder to shoulder with your partner who had the same idea.

“Oh, sir! Are you okay?” you ask, kneeling down to pull the knife from his thigh. He keens in response as you hide the blade away in the pocket of your apron.

“Oof,” Jack says, making a face and holding the lapels of his jacket as he looks down at the squirming man at his feet. “Came clattering down harder than a screen door in a storm.”

“I know,” you say with faux-concern, taking a hold of Nathan’s hand and pressing it down over the wound with a wet sound. “That was quite a fall! Let’s get you up, we should get you some air. Come on.” He struggles against you, but with a firm grip on his arm, you still him, then haul him onto his feet. You look at Jack with a knowing grin. “Sir, can you help me get this man outside?”

You find yourself watching from below the overhang of the restaurant, sheltered from the London weather, as Jack escorts Nathan to Harry and Eggsy, who are waiting by a dark car. As Eggsy helps Nathan into the backseat, Harry sticks his hand out at Jack, who contemplates the gesture for a split-second before taking Harry’s hand and shaking it. They exchange some words, briefly look in your direction, but you’re too far away to really make out what they’re saying. Eggsy closes the car door and watches the two agents, seemingly contemplating if he’s going to follow his colleague’s example, and you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he does. Jack says his goodbyes in the form of a two-finger salute, then turns to make his way to you.

“Well?” you ask when he stands next to you, leaning back against the window as you both watch the car drive off. “Did we save the art world?”

“Close enough,” he says. “Harry said to thank you on Kingsman’s behalf, and that they’ll handle it from here on out. They just… want our mission reports within the week.”

You groan, eyes closing and shoulders dropping at the reminder. “That was the one thing I hadn’t missed about going on missions…”

Jack grunts softly, in agreement, you think, then says, “Think it was a successful first assignment together?”

“I’d say all the training’s paid off,” you say, shifting and knocking your shoulder against his. “Be sure to mention that in your mission report, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack chuckles shortly, then shuffles his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Been meanin’ to ask you… Did you mean what you said earlier? ‘Bout trustin’ me?”

You look at him, trying to determine whether he’s really asking or just being a dick, but he keeps looking straight ahead, his expression giving nothing away.

“I did.” You pause before adding, “I wouldn’t be much of a partner if I didn’t, right?”

He cracks, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, a slight hint of a smile appearing. He looks at you from the corner of his eye. “You are a good liar…”

You can’t help but match his expression, thinking back to how exasperated he looked in the red flickering lights of the training space days ago. “I’m not that good.”

He’s quiet after that, head tipping down to look at his shoes as his eyebrows knit together and his tongue comes out to wet his lips. It feels tense, suddenly, and you don’t know if it’s because you said something you shouldn’t have. Does he not believe you? Maybe it’s just your imagination. You think of something to say to break the tension, or to at least change the subject.

“It was my wife,” Jack suddenly says, head shooting up to look directly ahead again and straightening his back.

Your mouth opens, then closes, seriously doubting if you’ve heard him right. With a confused shake of your head, you ask him, “Sorry, what was that?”

He clears his throat. “My wife. She’s why I turned on the agency.”

You frown, even more confused than before. “You never told me you’re married.”

He’s pausing again and your heartbeat picks up, cheeks heating at the idea that he has mentioned his wife and that you simply forgot. It’s just that Jack… He didn’t seem to be the type to be in a serious relationship. You rack your brain, going over the interactions you’ve had with him and scanning for the word ‘wife’ or ‘spouse’ or—

“Was,” he corrects. “It was years ago and... she died.”

—oh.

There had been so much emotion in his voice, and it’s all so unexpected that he knocks the absolute wind out of you with it. He almost doesn’t look like himself when he finally looks at you. He takes a breath before he continues, “Two methamphetamine users killed her durin’ a robbery. She was pregnant with our son and… and I guess, in my fucked up mind, that justified—”

“Stop,” you say. “You were right earlier. It’s— You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me.”

“You were right,” he presses. “And I thought you oughta know it, ‘cause I—” He stops himself with a bitter chuckle before continuing, “Christ, this is gonna sound so fuckin’ cheesy, but… The whole thing in Cambodia, that’s not who I wanna be. I wanna be… better, y’know? Do the right thing, be a good agent, not be a shitty partner, the whole nine yards, and I… I’ve been thinking on it and I think it starts with trust.” He cocks his hip, hooks his fingers in his belt loops, and it might have been somewhat funny if he didn’t look so bashful when he peers up at you after. “And me workin’ on my communication skills and bein’ earnest, which I’m honest to God tryin’ my damnedest at right now,” he adds with a hint of a smile. “That sound acceptable to you?”

Blinking up at him, you let his words wash over you. You had truly meant it when you said you trusted him back in the hotel, and with the way he is standing across from you, all but wearing his heart on his sleeve, you trust him to be truthful and genuine with you now. There is only one answer you could give him.

“Yes.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman 2 #pedro pascal #cowboy like me fic #dani writing #(screaming) i can't believe its real and here!!!

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neonacity · 4 years ago

Text

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 3: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

TW: illegal activities, gunshot wound, mentions of blood

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Another bank was looted last night around 11PM, this time in the Geumchon district. This is the second bank that was broken into in the past week and the fourth that is rumored to be the doing of one of Seoul's organized criminal…."

I sighed and put down the pen that I have been using to scribble on a piece of napkin. A frown creased my forehead before I grabbed the offending piece of flimsy paper and crumpled it with my hand. Jeno, who was silently watching the news, looked up and shot me a curious look. He was leaning over the counter lazily, his cup of half finished hot cocoa beside him.

"You okay?"

I winced. "Yeah... Actually. Actually, no. I am not okay," I said finally as I threw the used napkin to the closest thrash. I have been scribbling all the things I have to pay for the coming month there and couldn't bear to take another look at it. Jeno grabbed his drink and silently took a sip of it, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

After my initial 'unplanned' meeting with Jaemin's friends, it has become more or less of their routine to drop by the cafe to hangout. Jaemin was initially against it at first, always scowling whenever he would see one of them already in the shop, though it seems like he has gotten used to it lately—or rather, he didn't have any other choice but to simply accept it. They would often sometimes come in groups—Jisung and Chenle are big fans of the pastries—but other times it's just one of them who would drop by to visit like Jeno now. My favorite is when all of them drops by to visit, not only because I've started getting closer to them too, but because customers would automatically flock into the shop whenever the "handsome gang" is there. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

"I'm a little bit short on money this month. I was supposed to get my monthly allowance from my scholarship but something happened so it will be delayed. I have lab things to buy and well—everything sucks."

Jeno nodded slowly, though I have a feeling he doesn't really understand my plight with money. Spending time with the seven of them has given me a better understanding of each boys' personalities. Jeno, for example, is definitely the calmer one of the bunch. While the others would cause chaos every now and then—Jaemin included, he would be on the side watching them usually with that adorable eye smile of his. He is different from Mark who would mostly jump in to join the fun before calming everyone once things get overboard, though both seem to share the same responsibility over the group. He also seems to be the closest to Jaemin, so by extension, I am also most comfortable around him.

"How much money do you need?"

I gave him a look as I reached out for a paper cup to make myself my own hot cocoa.

"I heard the same question from your best friend before. Are you also going to offer to be my sugar daddy?"

Jeno choked on his drink and hid his laughter behind his raised cup.

"Do you want Jaemin to kill me?"

That made me inappropriately blush.

"Sometimes I just want to bust out a bank like that group everyone is talking about."

Jeno didn't say anything and continued watching me from the brim of his drink.

"You think you can do it?"

"Do what?" I asked as I poured hot cocoa on my cup. I said that off-handedly, I almost forgot my words the moment they left my lips.

"Rob a bank. You know, do something illegal."

I leaned back against the counter and craned my head a little sideways as I thought the question over. I didn't actually think of that before so I had to listen to my moral compass a little bit before answering.

"It depends on the reason."

Jeno looked surprised by my reply. He was probably expecting a goody two shoes answer from me, which I don’t blame him for, to be honest. Even I am mildly shocked by what I said.

"The reason?"

"Yes. I mean, if the only reason I would steal is because I don't have money to support my studies, then no, I wouldn't do it. I have other options. I can work extra jobs or I can just drop out from uni. But if I didn't really have any other choice, if I had to do it for someone really close to me, for example, then I would do it."

"That is very…"

"Cliche, right? I know. But that's how it works, at least for me," I said with a laugh. "I do know what's good and bad, but I'm willing to jump the gun if I have to."

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard Jeno murmur something under his breath as I turned to get back to work.

"I bet Jaemin wouldn't like that."

-----

PRESENT DAY, a little over one month after the happenings in the first chapter.

They disappeared like bubbles. No, he disappeared in thin air, like smoke that was blown over by a strong gust of wind. After that night when Jaemin bust through my cafe door, hiding god knows what and asking for temporary shelter, he hasn't shown himself again, apparently leaving while I slipped into a light sleep. Even his friends stopped visiting the cafe which, for a few days, made me genuinely feel scared. Are they okay? What happened to him? Who was he running away from?

That worry slowly and gradually morphed into anger as the days lengthened. I know it was my way of coping with my emotions, but I couldn't help myself. I tried calling him, but the line was cut. It even came to the point that I had to call each of his friends, but it seems like the numbers they gave me were all temporary ones, too. I felt frustrated. I felt...abandoned.

Was it really easy for him to just cut off all contact with me?

Was it foolish of me to think that there is...something deeper here than just friendship?

It was the start of winter when the loud ringing of my phone woke me up from my nap. Eyes still heavy with sleep, my first instinct was to look at the clock by my table which registered 1:19AM. I frowned. I was in the middle of finishing a paper before I decided to take a nap but who could be calling me at such an ungodly hour?

I blearily reached out for my phone and barely looked at the unregistered number before hitting the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Noona?"

I froze. Just like that, I felt the sleepiness slowly melt away from my consciousness. I know that voice.

"Jisung?"

"Noona, we need your help."

I sat up on my seat after registering the panic in his voice. I heard another tone suddenly hiss at him from the background before a rustling sound overtook the speakers. It sounded like someone grabbed the phone from his grasp before he could even react.

"Jisung. What's happening—"

"Hello?" The new voice that spoke on the other line made my heart stop. I stared at my wall, wide-eyed.

"Jaemin."

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"

"Jaemin, we don’t really have any other choice but her, give me the phone," another one jumped in. It was Mark.

"No. Hyung—"

"We're losing him," my lips parted in shock at what I heard. His voice sounded clearer now and I could very much pick up the iciness on it. Mark has always been so friendly and warm that it threw me off guard.

"Give me the phone."

The authority he held made me assume that Jaemin did as he was told. Next thing I know, he was calling out my name from the speaker.

"Mark, yes, I'm listening."

"Hey. I'm really sorry about this, but we need your help. We really have no other choice, Haechan is in such a bad state—"

That made me stand up and push away from my desk.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean about Haechan?"

"I'll explain later. We're on our way to you now."

"Wait, what? You don't know my address."

"We'll be there in seven minutes."

That was all he said before he cut off the call, leaving me standing shell-shocked in the middle of my room.

---

They banged on my door not even five minutes after. I had barely pulled on a cardigan when loud knocks rang through my small one bedroom unit causing me to quickly run and grab my knob open.

I stood frozen at the sight of the seven boys crowding my doorway. Everyone was covered in some sort of soot, leaving them almost unrecognizable in their black outfits. Mark and Jeno were in the middle of the group, carrying a half-conscious Haechan between them. Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun brought the rear, their eyes moving wildly as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jaemin stood closest to me, his jaw tense and his eyes apologetic. My gaze snapped back to the center of the group when Mark called out my name.

That's when I saw it for the first time. I didn't notice it at first because of its dark color, but Jeno was holding a towel against Haechan's stomach. Except it isn't black, it was a deep dark red.

Blood.

"Oh my god."

"Please help us."

Maybe it was the shock, but I quickly stepped aside to let everyone in. I had barely slammed the door shut when I heard a crashing sound from my small dining area. Jeno pushed everything on top of my table to the ground as Mark and Jaemin gently guided Haechan on it.

"What—what is going on—"

"He's been shot. Thrice. We're not sure but I think two of the bullets are still there," Renjun answered me as he grabbed the soaked towel from Mark's hand and replaced it with a new one. Jisung and Chenle worked on closing all the shutters of my windows while Jaemin tore off a lamp from my living room to move it close to Haechan. He closed all other lights other than the ones on the dining area and the small lamp.

It was then when my training finally kicked in. I ran towards the table to peer at the wound, my shaking hands gently moving the new towel that is quickly getting soaked by blood again. Haechan gave a soft grunt of pain before slipping to unconsciousness again.

"I think there are still foreign objects there. It's what causing the severe bleeding."

"Can you take it out?"

My eyes shot to Jeno. The harsh lights from the lamp threw strong shadows on his stressed features.

"I'm not a licensed doctor."

"We don't need a licensed doctor right now, we need someone who can patch the hole in his stomach. Please."

I gritted my teeth. I have a ton of questions running through my head right now, but he's right. We need to act fast or else we will lose him. I rolled up my sleeves then and called out to whoever can act fast to my orders.

"Somebody get the black box under my bed. I have all my surgery practice tools there. I need hot water and lots of towels. Everyone move. Now."

As soon as I said my orders, each of the boys were moving in a flurry to get everything that I asked for. I was adjusting the small lamp directly over the wound to peer at it better when I felt a gentle hand circle around my arm. I looked up to see Jaemin staring at me.

"Thank you."

I didn't say anything at first. I don't know if it was the shadows playing over his features, but he looked different from the Jaemin I knew in that brief moment.

"Don't thank me yet. Say that once we're sure he survives."

---

I was stirred from my sleep by the light snoring of someone to my right. Turning my head, I was greeted by the sight of Jisung who was currently sprawled on my sofa, his legs so long that they were dangling on one end. Chenle was on the floor below him, his face covered by one of the pillows he probably fished from one of my love seats cradling Renjun's curled up form. Mark and Jeno were both sitting upright, the former close to Haechan and the other by the door like a sentinel. They seemed to be in deep sleep too, they're heads hanging low. Jaemin was on the floor next to my seat, his breathing slow and relaxed.

I blinked slowly as my gaze moved from boy to boy. It took me a painful two hours to do the impromptu surgery, first working on taking the bullets out before sewing everything back together. Haechan was lucky enough that the bullets didn't hit any vital organs or important vessels, and that the extreme bleeding was only caused by the wrong muscle being hit by the impact. He slipped from being conscious to unconscious throughout, and everyone had to work together to help me while I did my thing.

I couldn’t really blame any of them from crashing the moment we made sure that Haechan’s safe—for now.

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I tried to silently move from where I was curled on, careful not to stir anyone. I still have a ton of questions, but those can be taken care of later. I padded as carefully as I could towards the table where Haechan was still resting and peered at the IV that I had hooked on his arm to make sure everything was moving well.

They even have spare blood bags with them for emergency transfusions.

...As if this kind of thing normally happens.

"He's going to be okay, right?"

I hastily turned to see Jaemin staring at me. His voice was low and was only loud enough for me to hear.

I stared at him for a bit before looking away.

"Yes. He'll survive."

"Thank you so much."

I didn't answer. He also didn't say anything else, though I could still feel his gaze heavily on me. I braced myself before speaking again.

"We need to talk."

I didn't wait for him to reply. I simply walked towards my room, leaving my door open for him to follow. I only turned back to look at him when I finally heard it close softly behind him.

"Who are you?" I asked, before he could even say anything else. I watched as his jaw tightened and released, his eyes full of indecisiveness. I didn't waver. Not this time.

"You said…"

"That I will never ask questions? I did. But I can't do it anymore, Jaemin. You disappeared for a month without even saying goodbye then showed up on my door with your friends, one of them with a hole in their stomach. You have blood bags—freaking blood bags. What the hell is going on?"

I tried my hardest to control my voice, not wanting any part of this conversation to be heard outside. My legs felt weak at the moment but I tried my best to continue standing so I could hold his gaze.

The look in Jaemin's eyes, however, almost made me want to give up. I knew from the pain and hesitation there that I wouldn't like whatever it is he is about to say.

"I'm a criminal."

My stomach dropped.

I was expecting it, but hearing it straight from him didn't soften the impact and the shock.

"A…"

"We steal. We do illegal things. There is absolutely no good way for me to describe this, but yes, I am a runaway who was stupid enough to bring you into this mess," Jaemin said through gritted teeth as he tore his eyes away from me. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself.

"I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back and tried to befriend you after that order of coffee. I'm sorry I ran to you that night a month ago. I seriously thought I was going to die and I wanted you to be the one that I see for the last time. I'm sorry for today, or that I couldn't answer any of your questions back then. It was selfish of me to keep you in my life without giving you anything back," he stopped and forced himself to look at me again. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest when our gazes met.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't… couldn't say anything. One part of me had already expected this because it is the only reason that makes sense. Those vague answers, his detachment from normal society, the money, every clue seems to point to one direction, but that didn't spare me from my moral dilemma now. Because while I knew, I didn't exactly consider how it relates to me.

I was afraid to.

Because the truth is, I like Na Jaemin to the extent that I'm afraid of what I can do for him.

"Do you kill…" I asked in a whisper, my voice shaky. A frown passed his already stressed features before he answered.

"No. None of us do," he answered, and I knew then that he was telling the truth. Regardless of what he is or what he didn't tell me, I trust him to not lie to me.

"Am I—am I in danger?" I asked next. He firmly shook his head.

"No. I made sure of that. No one would dare—" he stopped, as if gauging what words he can use to not scare me even more. "You have always been under protection."

That’s when it clicked. The cafe visits from his friends. The random strangers who seem to spring out from nowhere every time I was out and about and needed sudden help.

My legs finally gave way and I collapsed on my bed behind me. My mind was trying its best to wrap around the situation, leaving my thoughts in a jumble. There are a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get a single one out at the moment.

Jaemin seemed to know what I was feeling at the very least because he simply stood there, silently watching me. I'm not sure how long the two of us stayed in that bubble of silence, but it was also him who brought me back to reality when I felt warmth cover my hands.

I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, both his hands gently enveloping my clasped ones. The look in his eyes made my heart lurch, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything still.

"I'm sorry if I was selfish… I promise, after this, you won't have to worry about anything else."

No.

"When I met you, I saw something that's so different from the life that I have. Believe me, I tried my best to leave you alone, but I wanted more of it—more of —you, so I kept coming back."

Are you going to leave me again?

"But you'll be safe now. I promise. You can go back to how it used to be before I… almost ruined it."

Please don't leave me.

Jaemin gave my hands one last squeeze and I felt him move to straighten himself. Before he let them go, however, another gentle warmth pressed against my forehead as he grazed it with his lips.

"Thank you."

My tears dropped the same time the doors closed behind him.

---

Chapter 4

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tommyspeakycap · 4 years ago

Text

New Beginnings

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2976

Summary - After the battle in Manhattan, a man who hates the idea of a doctor definitely needs one. A friend of Pepper Potts' lends a hand and consequently changes Steve's long-lived disposition for getting medical help.

a/n - set after the battle of New York in the avengers

Since Steve had woken up, or rather been woken up after he was found in the ice after 70 years, he had not once visited the doctor other than those at S.H.I.E.L.D when they had forced him to. For one, he didn’t ever get sick now and reason two would be that he just hates the concept. He spent a great deal of his time in doctors offices and speaking to specialists diagnosing him with all forms of new medical conditions from when he was in a child to before he was given the serum. It wasn’t somewhere he wanted to go now and those days weren’t exactly the ones he liked to remember even if he was the absolute picture of health now.

That didn’t so much apply however when he, Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce and Clint were finally able to stop after fighting for hours against unrelenting waves of aliens trying to take New York. They were all battered and bruised to some degree, some arguably more than others.

Steve looks around with a pounding heart. It never gets easier to think about the losses that are likely to mount up after a battle, the buildings that fell and the people who stood unable in the face of the large aliens with huge powerful guns. It only adds to the hurt that stems from seeing the city he loves reduced half to rubble with skyscrapers crumbled to the ground, flaming, flipped cars scattering the road and entire streets all but destroyed.

Before he does anything else, Steve wants to go down to the subway that he insisted the police put people in to ensure they all get out safely before he heads to meet up with the rest of the team back at Stark tower. There are more ambulances lining what’s left of the roads than he can even begin to count and he’s extremely glad they hadn’t destroyed any hospitals because they were going to need every bed that they had. He helped some people up out of the Subway with the officers and some people thanked him, some people gawked at him and some seemed too much in shock to even notice he was there. Steve stood just watching for longer than he would care to admit.

He supposes he would say he’s just taking everything in. It feels as though the world is quite the same as to when he lived in it at first. People still come together when they need to and there are still bad people who want to stand above the rest.

As his feet carry him back over crunching rubble in the direction of Stark tower to meet up with the rest, Steve can’t help but think about how he wishes his best friend could be with him for this battle. There wasn’t anyone Steve preferred to have on his side and he did tremendously miss his friend.

“No no no!” Steve hears yelling above the rest of the commotion,a noise which immediately diverts his train of thought. He turns his head to see if he can catch a glimpse of what was going on to see if there was anything he could do to help. “He has to go first, he’s got an ICH with a blown pupil. He won’t make it halfway to the hospital if he has to wait another twenty minutes!” Steve rounds the corner at a slow jog. He’s met with a woman with her hair tied back tightly out of her face, which was smeared with dirt and dust and it looked as though she had been climbing amongst the rubble to help recover the last of the people from that building. “Look ma’am, we have a kid in there.” The EMT tries to explain, but you just give him an incredulous look, “With a closed tib-fib fracture, he’ll live! This guy is bleeding into his brain, do you have one of those-” You lean closer to him, squinting your eyes and sweeping dust off of his badge, “Jack. Do you have a brain, Jack?” The EMT in front of you opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. “Yes ma’am.” He stutters. “Good,” you snip, “Then get the kid in a wheelchair for the next ambulance and bluelight this guy to the nearest hospital, now!”

The EMT scrambles to do as told and you push your hair back again with a heavy sigh as you walk away the second they get him in the stretcher and into the ambulance. Steve smiles slightly to himself. There’s nothing quite like a powerful woman in his eyes and no force like an angry one. He’d hate to be on that woman’s bad side and he knows now that he was wrong to think his help would be needed there. The super soldier simply walks away again with his shield held tightly in his hand. He bids a wordless respect to the woman who rolls up her sleeves again and cups her hands over her mouth, shouting out for anyone who might need help from her clearly medically experienced hands.

“Dear God, look at you lot!” Pepper exclaims as they walk in, immediately rushing to hug Tony tightly. “You all need to get checked over medically. Like now.” She says firmly, but each one shakes their heads. “The hospitals will be busy enough,” Bruce says, “I just saw a woman fighting for an ambulance. We’ll heal.” Steve agrees, folding his painful arms. “They’re right.” Tony nods. Pepper shakes her head, “I knew you’d say that, which is why Fury and I had a medical floor set up. There’s nurses there to patch you guys up and a doctor there if anybody needs one. All of you, go. Now.” Most want to protest, but opt not to at her stern words and instead follow the nurse who had come to greet them.

All but Steve.

“I’ll be fine.” He states, shaking his head and turning away. “Excuse me,” Pepper calls out to him, “Please, Steve. You really need to get seen.” She insists, but he keeps walking.

“(y/n), oh my god!” Pepper sighs heavily in relief, rushing towards you the second you walk out the revolving door that only had one glass panel left in it. “Thank God you're safe. This is one of them I was going to ask you to take a look at.” Once she releases you from the tight hug, she points after Steve who was still limping away towards the stairs. “Can’t get him to go to the med floor though.” She mutters to you beneath her breath. You shoot her a smile that says she needn't worry.

“Oi!” You call out, barely eliciting a turn of the head from the man in the blue suit. “Hey you!” You try again, you merely get him to stop walking. “Me?” He says, but still didn’t turn to look at you. He was trying to place where he had heard your voice, but his head was hurting too much to put a lot of thought into it. “Yeah, you. You better get America’s ass right back over here and march it right down to that med floor.”

Your tone makes him turn around immediately, his eyebrows slightly furrowed for a moment before he realised it hurt to do that too. He fought back a smile over those pink lips. “I thought I knew your voice.”

His response prompts your eyebrows to shoot up as you eyed him and then Pepper in confusion. “Have we met?” You ask, tilting your head slightly to the side. Steve shakes his head, “Oh no, sorry. I just saw you a while ago yelling at a paramedic over an ambulance about an ICH, whatever that means.” The blonde shrugs, offering you a slight smile. You chuckle at his words and shake your head. “Well then I’m sure you’ll do as I tell you. Save me doing anymore yelling today?”

Steve doesn’t have much more fight left in him for today and he would be lying if he said his body wasn’t aching. He could probably do with some pain killers and the cut on his arm would likely hurt a lot less, as well as be quicker to heal if he were to get it stitched up. He doesn’t say anything, but he does sigh and decides to follow you through the lobby and down a flight of stairs to the newly designated medical floor.

“Nice of you to join us, Cap!” Tony jests out, “And (y/n)!” He cheers. You only flip him off in response with a roll of your eyes as you lead the tall man behind you into one of the private rooms filled with medical supplies.

“Sit on the bed there.” You instruct, walking over to wash your hands, arms and face before you do anything else.

“I don’t think I need-”

“On the bed, Captain.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

You nod your head and turn to smile at him softly. Your smile is beautiful. It actually alleviates a little of his pain just to see it, and he truly is surprised by the softness and gentility of it in comparison to the attitude he had thus far witnessed from you in the short time he’s known you.

He groans and the medical bed creaks a little when he climbs on as you pull the latex gloves over your hands. He watches you very tentatively, attempting to eye the things that you gather from various boxes around the room and place onto the wheeled table. “Sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

Your softer voice makes him smile slightly again. “It’s alright,” Steve brushed off with a shrug, shifting himself so he could strip his suit off like you had told him to do just before you entered the room. He kind of awkwardly places the material of the suit over his boxers and the tops of his thighs. He doesn’t exactly want to sit basically naked in front of a woman he didn’t even really know. He still had a lot of his 1940’s mannerisms written into his behaviour. You turn back around to face him and don’t seem to take much notice of his huge, bare torso on the medical bed in front of you. Instead, your eyes scan his body for where to start on his injuries.

It seems as though you opt for cleaning his face first, which makes him feel slightly embarrassed to just sit and let you do it. You use a cloth and hot water for the dried blood, followed by an alcohol cloth that stings a surprising amount. You only place a steri strip over the gash on his forehead and then turn to the open cut on his shoulder. He knows that it’ll heal in less than 24 hours and he won’t have so much as a mark in its place. But it’ll heal a hell of a lot quicker if it’s closed and clean, so he allows you to begin working on it.

He hisses when you do, and you stop for a moment.

“Intracranial hemorrhage.” You say seemingly out of the blue. “What?” Steve asks, the pain in his arm dissipating. “Intracranial hemorrhage. ICH. What the guy you saw me fighting for the ambulance had. He got stuck under some rubble and it caused his brain to bleed. That increases the pressure in his head until you drill a hole to release it. Sometimes you have to take out a whole section of the skull and leave the head open until the swelling goes down around the brain. It’s super interesting.” Steve is entranced by your jabbering on, his eyes literally glued onto you as you work. Hands tentatively maneuvering a needle through his skin as gently as you can to pull the two separate sides back together.

You flick your eyes up to him to see the grin and his blue eyes shining in anticipation for your next words. “He was pretty bad considering the circumstances. A blown pupil- dilated pupil- is usually a huge warning sign that he needs treatment like, right away. He wasn’t responding to much physical stimuli, but you'd be amazed by the recovery that a lot of people with that type of injury can make within literally just a few days of the surgery. The brain is pretty cool.” You continue on. Steve doesn’t want you to ever stop talking. Your voice has apparently turned off all of the pain receptors in his body as he watches the focus pull your brows together ever so slightly and part your lips as you tie the knot at the end of his arm stitches, carefully wiping over it and placing a white gauze dressing over the wound. “Those should dissolve in your skin even if you are a super-healer or whatever.” You turn your attention next to a cut just above his kneecap.

“Sorry for the rambling, wild day. I’ll stitch that one up too then you should be good to get back to your superhero post-battle business.” Your tease makes him chuckle slightly as he watches you roll the wheeled table and your stool round to the other side of him to wipe down his knee before you start to stitch it. Steve had a tough day too, and he hadn’t yet learned how he would cope with those in modern day, but he had a hunch that listening to you might be the key. However, it comes across to him like your way was talking about things that weren’t as scary as the fact that aliens descended from the sky and destroyed half of New York City. “What about a closed TibFib then?” Steve asks softly with kindness swimming around in those sky blue eyes. “Tell me about that?”

After a further half hour finishing his stitching, cleaning him up properly and getting him some fresh clothes, you found yourself surprisingly sad to be leaving the company of the kind, attractive, super soldier you had newly become acquainted with. He seemed pretty solemn about it too, but you couldn’t tell if he was just exhausted from his day's worth of fighting. You had gotten to know each other through the short time you got to spend with him, and he was glad he had at first refused any form of medical treatment for if he hadn’t he probably wouldn’t have had you as his caregiver.

“Thank you for...all this.” He gestures to himself, referring to the stitches, his newly clean skin and clothes. “And for talking to me. It really means a lot.” Steve admits, his voice a little shy with the lightest dusting of pink flushing his cheeks. You smile without thought for the first time that day. “It’s a pleasure. Thank you for listening to me, and for not calling me a bossy bitch.” You breathe a chuckle of laughter as you turn your back to him to empty all the rubbish into the bin. So you don’t see the anger that passes through his eyes at the thought of someone ever calling you that, or the tilt of his head in irritation. You were so strong and a true powerhouse of a woman in his eyes. Clearly incredibly smart. He was pretty much smitten with you already.

“That would be incredibly rude.” Steve states firmly, “I just think you’re a very smart and a very beautiful woman. And you are incredible. Saved a lot of people today down in the rubble.”

You turn back around to see him, standing now much closer to you. “Says you, Mr Alien-slayer.” You grin back up at him. He isn’t the kind to go in for a kiss on the first date, never mind the first time ever meeting a woman, so he takes a gentle step back much to your disappointment. “I believe you called me America’s ass, earlier today.” He corrects lightly and you turn your eyes to the ground as your face flushes red with a giggle of embarrassment as he laughs with you. “Sorry about that, Steve.”

That was actually the first time you had said his name and God he loved how it sounded leaving your pretty lips. “It’s okay. Kinda liked it, suits me don’t you think?” He turns side on and twists his back to look down at his ass dramatically and you throw your head back laughing. It’s such music to his ears and he’s yet to hear another sound since he woke that brings such a great amount of joy and warmth straight to his heart.

“Well,” you hum softly as you pull out a piece of paper and scrawl some writing down on it with a pen from your scrubs breast pocket, “If America’s ass ever finds himself in need of a stitch up or a chat, anything really, then this is where to find me.” You tuck the little bit of ripped paper into his large hand and gently peck his cheek before opening the door and walking off through the medical floor. He looked down at that little bit of paper, reading over some numbers and your name.

“(y/n),” he says softly to himself, subconsciously smiling at the way your name feels so beautiful on his lips. “What you got there, Cap?” Natasha asks as she leans herself on the doorframe of the room he stands frozen in. Steve looks up at her in surprise, “Uh, nothing much.” He diffuses, shrugging his shoulders as he takes one more glance down at the paper. “You sure?” She presses. “Yeah.” He assures. She turns to walk away just as realisation hits him. “Oh wait,” he calls after her, a shy smile on his lips.

“You know anywhere I could get a phone?”

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #avengers #marvel imagine

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makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 303: And What, Pray Tell, Is a “One For All”

Previously on BnHA: The Todorokis (really just Enji) looked at their children and went “how can we screw up all four of them in uniquely different ways” and proceeded to do just that. Touya was all “just because practicing how to set myself on fire better hasn’t worked to win my dad’s affections YET doesn’t mean it will NEVER work”, because child logic. Turns out setting oneself on fire real hard isn’t so effective at winning affections, but is actually incredibly effective when it comes to burning oneself to death, so there’s that. Back in the present day, the Todorokis basked in their various misplaced (again, except for Enji) feelings of guilt, and were all “anyway but get over yourself already Enji, you still have to do something to stop this kid”, and Shouto was all “I’ll help too”, and Enji was all “(╥_╥)”, and Hawks and Jeanist were all “[surreptitiously listening in from outside the door]”, and that’s basically where we left off.

Today on BnHA: Hawks and Jeanist are all “mind if we join you on this family journey?” and proceed to stroll in uninvited with their puns and their perceptive insights. Hawks is all “so to sum everything up, we’re fucked, but at least you have us here to help you out! by the way, no clue why I’m the first person to ask this in three hundred chapters, but wtf is One For All.” We then cut to Deku, who’s still all “[(－－)]z”, and All Might, who is all “I’m just going to ignore the extremely loud racket going on right outside this room.” Which, btw, is happening on account of Bakugou, who is all “(╬◣Д◢)” as Satou, Tsuyu, and Mineta cart him away. Anyway so that’s a lot of antics, and also it looks like Hawks has gotten tired of the Todorokis refusing to put the pieces together on their own about OFA and so he is fast-tracking that shit. And meanwhile Deku is chatting it up with the Vestiges exactly like we all thought. And now we have to wait another whole week for updates on all of this. This really is not fair.

omfg lol

“our bad, we were kind of accidentally listening in on purpose.” like I said last week guys, no fuss. it’s a tradition

OMG

I am absolutely fucking floored. Hawks literally said that so casually that it’s impossible for me to rewrite it so as to be even more casual. that’s literally what I would write in the “today on bnha” section. in fact I probably will write that

(ETA: just for laughs I tried it and it really worked.)

a couple more things to point out about this panel:

“TOP 3” omg yes. more like “top only” at this point, honestly. interested to see how that goes

Hawks’s phone is freaking the fuck out about something, calm down there

I know this is a standard Jeanist hair-fixing gesture that he does all the time, but I can’t help but form hypotheses about this being a stress reaction because Hawks’s hair is making him internally freak out. Hawks, if this man tries to get you alone with him and some hairspray and a comb, please for the love of god do not listen to him. get out of there and call the authorities

omg Shouto’s face

okay confession, I wasn’t really sold on the whole “Shouto has a schoolboy crush on Hawks” thing until exactly now, when I became 100% sold on it. that is adorable

and heck with it, gotta show Enji and Rei’s reactions here as well because lol

“omg my son who’s not my son, and he just overheard everything about me being a terrible shitty father and person overall, oh and plus my actual-son set him on fire and called him out on a national broadcast. I’m just gonna stare at him baffledly.” versus Rei, who is all “hmm, who are these people”

so Hawks is all “I got released from the hospital after one day for some reason so I made Jeanist drive me around places while we talked about life” but uh, heyyyyy, what’s Rei doing

okay, uh

SO FUCKING FORMAL OMFG. “SORRY MY KID TRIED TO BURN YOU TO DEATH, APPARENTLY HE DOES THAT” REI NO IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT

HAWKS IS ALL “I’M JUST GONNA LAUGH SINCE THAT’S MY DEFAULT RESPONSE TO BEING PROFOUNDLY UNCOMFORTABLE”

let me tell you a secret Hawks, it’s my default response too. ahahahahahahaha oh thank god Jeanist is helping her up -- AND MAKING A JEANS PUN, OF COURSE. IT’S BEEN ALMOST THIRTY SECONDS. MY MAN WAS DYING

“WTF IS ILLEGAL DENIM” he’s talking ‘bout them counterfeit jeans, Rei. Antoine Bugleboy knows

THANK YOU JEANIST!! OUT HERE ASKING THE RELEVANT QUESTIONS

damn straight. we’re not gonna sit around waiting another 300 chapters for this information on this man’s watch

now Hawks is telling Endeavor he used to watch videos of him all the time, and calling him his “childhood obsession” I can’t

OH MY SWEET STARS AND MOONS

1000% CANON. “SO CLOSE...” ARE YOU SERIOUS. YOU REALLY PUT THAT THOUGHT BUBBLE THERE AND EVERYTHING. “GOOD MORNING EVERYONE, SO JUST IN CASE YOU WEREN’T ALREADY AWARE, TODOROKI SHOUTO IS NOT ACTUALLY STRAIGHT.” HORIKOSHI KOUHEI I AM LITERALLY DUMBFOUNDED. THIS IS AMAZING

and meanwhile that look on Hawks’s face while he casually-but-not-really-casually-at-all asks this question. that phone app better be using his actual voice. I’m not sure I could take this scene in the anime at this point if it was like Alexa talking or something

that look in his eyes is basically saying that so far, based on the information he has absorbed up until this point, Hawks is prepared to view his former childhood obsession as a flawed but changed man. however I get the distinct feeling that depending on Endeavor’s answer now, he would be willing to drastically shift some of his opinions on him

(ETA: this is maybe my favorite panel in the entire chapter. the fact that his question isn’t addressed to anyone in particular, but his eyes are zeroing on on Endeavor. and the way his leaning-on-Shouto pose manages to be simultaneously nonchalant and yet ever-so-slightly protective. there’s so much going on in this one question and gesture and I’m mildly obsessed with it.)

however, Rei is all “that was me” and ONCE AGAIN WITH THE FACES IN THIS CHAPTER holy shit

Hawks definitely did not see that one coming sob. it’s so fun watching him frantically recalculate his ideas about this family every two seconds

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI I UNDERSTOOD THE PARALLELS ALREADY, YOU REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO DO THIS

yes, Hawks, you get it. it’s not exactly the same, but it’s close enough. though unlike your shitty parents, Rei and Enji are at least trying

OKAY I SERIOUSLY CANNOT WITH ALL OF THIS

fljkdlaskfjlwkjl okay we’re doing the bullet-points breakdown here

first of all, the fact that poor little Shouto’s heart is still thumping away at this proximity and all he can think is “CLOSE” all intelligently as he stares at him with that face omg

and meanwhile Horikoshi has these STRATEGIC BANDAGES WRAPPED AROUND HIS CHEEKS TO HIDE ALL OF HIS SHOUJO BLUSHING omfg. SENPAI NOTICED YOU SWEETIE!!!

HAWKS YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY ZERO OBLIGATION TO WASTE ANOTHER SECOND OF YOUR LIFE WORRYING ABOUT THESE TWO ASSHOLES WHO NEVER SPARED YOU THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF REGARD OR CONCERN IN THEIR ENTIRE LIVES. THE NICEST THING YOUR MOM EVER DID FOR YOU WAS BUY YOU A $2 ENDEAVOR PLUSH FROM THE DISCOUNT BIN TO KEEP YOU QUIET, AND YOU WERE SO AWED BY THAT ONE ACT OF SORTA KINDA APPROXIMATE KINDNESS THAT YOU SHAPED YOUR ENTIRE WORLDVIEW AROUND IT. PLEASE LET ME PICK YOU UP IN A BIG HUG FOR JUST A SEC, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND YOU WERE ONE THOUSAND PERCENT JUSTIFIED IN LEAVING THEM IN THE DUST THE SECOND THAT YOU COULD

but all that said, he immediately recognizes that Shouto would also have had cause to do the same in his situation, and yet hasn’t. and so he has that much more admiration for him all of a sudden, which is just super sweet, and fully appropriate. Shouto does deserve props. I’m choosing to take this as an “it takes a lot of strength to be able to forgive, and people who choose to do that even though they’re not obligated to are really amazing" type of thing, as opposed to “people who don’t forgive other people who severely wronged them are bad.” and if I’m wrong and Hawks’s line here is meant to be seen as actual failing on his part, well then fuck that, but we’ll move on

SO NOW, DOWN TO BUSINESS!

I am so, so curious as to what kind of strategy Hawks has for this (if he even has any), so I’ll just be quiet now and read

so Hawks is summing up basically what we already knew -- that Tomura and his inner circle (curious that there’s no mention of AFO, because if Hawks doesn’t know about him, that implies almost no one does) are still on the lam with a few PLF stragglers and some High Ends; that a bunch of prisons have been “liberated” (I assume this means all of the inmates escaped, so if that’s the case then where’s Kurogiri??); that the HPSC is fucked; and that heroes are resigning all over the place, and so civilians are taking matters into their own hands

OH DAMN!?

does this mean we’ll actually see some international heroes?? I will LOSE MY DAMN SHIT omg

(ETA: apparently people who paid more attention to the first BnHA movie than I did recognized the silhouettes as belonging to some background characters from Two Heroes. so maybe they were just cameos and they’re not actually new characters who are soon to join us lol. oh well.)

anyway so Hawks agrees with the other Todorokis that Endeavor has no choice but to fight

awww

DON’T WORRY ENJI THEY’VE GOT YOUR BACK. WITH YOUR FLAMES, AND JEANIST’S PUNS, AND HAWKS’S BOYISHLY GOOD LOOKS, THE THREE OF YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU SET YOUR MINDS TO

so Enji is very pertinently asking why they’re standing by him in spite of the... [gestures vaguely to everything]

oh my lordy lord

Shouto you had better do something to combat this soon, or this man will sneak past you on my favorite character ranking after all. his face. his cheeky lil finger gun. the fact that he sums it up so fucking simply. “if someone is trying to do the right thing, I want to support them.” exactly. exactly

(ETA: and one last thing I love but forgot to mention, which is the fact that Hawks calls it a team-up despite the fact that he is clearly in charge.)

meanwhile Jeanist is all “as for me, at this point I just straight up don’t give a fuck”

I can’t handle how fucking cool this chapter is you guys

so Hawks is all “you good?” at Enji. and Enji...

if anyone needs me, I will be building myself a discourse-proof fort made entirely out of problematic characters. I don’t even care. I will go on living my life very happily in here

lol at Natsu being all “BUT DON’T THINK THIS MAKES US FRIENDS”

I’m living for this weird and no-doubt entirely unintended implication that Natsu and them all are gonna join in the fight with the rest of them. I mean, they do presumably all have very powerful ice quirks. and Natsu has medical training on top of that, and Fuyu is skilled at getting eight-year-olds to behave which could be a useful talent for dealing with Tomura hahaha I kid, but I’M JUST SAYING. who needs hero licenses anyway

OH SHIT FINALLY SOME DISCUSSION OF AN ACTUAL STRATEGY. even if it’s just a PR strategy

WHAKLHL

and now for some reason we’re flashing back to Natsu and Fuyu’s attempts to navigate through the media crowd outside the hospital

well I guess this is why I’m not the mangaka. if I were writing this I would have done something trite and predictable like using that “One for All” line as an excuse to cut to Deku!! as opposed to this entirely unrelated scene!!

seriously though why do we need to see this lol

no one in this crowd has ever heard of Alexander Dumas huh. or even the popular 2007 Disney Channel original movie, High School Musical 2

so now there’s an entire page of Hawks saying they need to know what One for All is, and Endeavor having one of those patented Todoroki WHOOSH realizations lmao look at this

just wait until this man figures out that one of the scrappy new interns he took on three months ago was actually the main character all along

SKDFIOHWIERLKSJGLWLK!!

NOW IS PROBABLY A GOOD TIME TO ASK MYSELF WHY I CHOSE THIS CHARACTER WHO KEEPS DISAPPEARING FOR SIX OR TWELVE OR FORTY CHAPTERS AT A TIME TO BE MY FUCKING FAVORITE. WELCOME BACK SON PLEASE DON’T SCREAM YOURSELF TO DEATH YOU STILL HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

(ETA: can we just take a moment to appreciate how Bakugou even got so close to Deku’s room in the first place though. in this giant hospital with no idea of where to even go. does he have Deku Radar or something.)

YOU SIX ARE OFFICIALLY ON MY HIT LIST!! SPARE ME YOUR GOOD INTENTIONS!! MY BAKUDEKU REUNION KEEPS GETTING POSTPONED WEEK AFTER WEEK!! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE HEROES WHERE IS YOUR CONCEPT OF MERCY

(ETA: btw just to be clear, I’m not actually angry lol; it makes total sense that they don’t want this rampaging feral toddler who was still in his own coma all of fifteen minutes ago to come and start screaming at the other coma child until he tears all his stitches out. if there’s anything we Bakugou fans should be familiar with by now, it’s being patient.)

also, Tsuyu wrapping her tongue around Bakugou’s still-healing torso wound absolutely can’t be hygienic at all. also wait is that Inko??

(ETA: pretty sure it is her. she got all of one line smdh.)

Iida is all “thank god Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight pulled through, I thought for sure he was a goner back there”

for the record this is actually really sweet to see how relieved he is. he’s one of the few people who saw the original injury close up, back when he was still at the battlefield and unconscious, so I imagine it really did freak him out quite a bit

JIROUUUUUU

“sometimes I just like to stand here and tug on my imaginary suspenders, what of it”

how come you guys get to loiter around Deku’s room but Kacchan doesn’t. god fucking dammit. AND WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN

I BET KACCHAN COULD WAKE HIM UP FROM HIS COMA WITH THE POWER OF RIVAL INTENSITY!! BUT NOOOOOOOO, [is dragged away back to my fort]

OH MY GOD!?!

"this seems to be an entirely normal and above-board situation that we have just stumbled onto”

I see Jeanist comes from the Iida Tenya school of respectfully using people’s full names

Jeanist becoming one of the main characters is the best thing to ever happen to this series

EXCUSE YOU, IIDA

BUT I’M SURE HE’D MAKE AN EXCEPTION FOR KACCHAN THOUGH!! [elbowing my way back out of the fort] HAWKS, PLEASE --

DON’T GO ALL OMINIOUSLY PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER ALL ON YOUR OWN GODDAMMIT

“there’s absolutely no way this angry wriggling shoulder burrito kid here could answer literally all of my questions, so I’ll just ignore him”

OH MY GOD WE’RE FINALLY CUTTING BACK TO HIM BUT THE CHAPTER IS ENDING

[jumps up, throws a folding chair at Iida and the rest of the gang, and then runs]

oh my god. actually this chapter was awesome. but I’m so fucking mad at this cliffhanger though lol

at least we got a couple of answers! and some hints and teases! poor Deku looks so worn out even though he’s asleep dlwkjl my little green baby. and is it just me or is his quirk activated?? All Might’s all “I can feel it” as if it isn’t obvious just looking at him, why are you trying to be all mysterious dude

anyway! so at least we finally have confirmation and a date for those vestige antics at long last. looking forward to meeting Mister The Fourth next week so we can finally ask him “hey dude, what the fuck”

#bnha 303 #takami keigo #hawks #todoroki shouto #todoroki enji #endeavor #best jeanist #todofam #bakugou katsuki #class 1-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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