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gb12d · 5 months

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Chapter 4

Smut warning

Thanks to @gingiesworld

3rd POV

Days passed by and Y/N’s nightmares only got more intense to the point that it was now hard for them to hide it from Jane. Y/N tried their best to ignore it because they tended to have those nightmares once in a while but to their bad luck, they were now daily and more dreadful memories were being replayed in their mind. As much as they tried to play it off as if everything was fine, the facade was close to breaking into pieces.

Jane had noticed that her lover was acting very differently. So one day after Jane arrived home from her job, she confronted them about it to which Y/N confessed to her that their job had them stressed out because things have changed and it was getting a bit difficult for him to adapt.

She felt bad and even apologized to Y/N because Jane felt that for forcing her full attention on the case and making it a personal matter, she was forgetting about the love of her life and in way abandoning them to fend of for themselves instead of taking care of them the way they had done for her every day after she arrives late from work.

So for today, Jane had a talk with her superiors to be able to leave work early and be at home before Y/N arrived from work. While the case was still a priority for her due to what it meant to her, she had put it aside for now to tend to the person who had always been there for her no matter the circumstances. To help Y/N anyway they needed and to remind them that nothing is above the love she has for them.

Jane arrived home early bringing with her some take out from the favorite restaurant you both enjoyed. She wanted to spoil them today. After she prepared the table knowing they would be home soon, she headed to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

Her plan was to distract your mind and hopefully make your stress go away. She picked up a black bag, smirking to herself, knowing that what was inside would help make tonight a good day for Y/N and also herself.

Some minutes passed and Y/N finally arrived. Looking defeated as they have the past days. Jane quickly arrived to his side to get the duffle bag out of his hand, starling them in the process. “Jane?” They were confused since she was never home this early. “What are you doing here? If you needed something, you could just have called me—.” “Relax, moose,” Jane cut them off. “I took an early day to have more time with my favorite person in the world.”

Y/N smiled hearing Jane’s words, thinking how they were lucky to have her in their life. “Thank you, Jane, But you didn’t have to,” They stopped speaking when Jane glared at them. “Sorry.” Y/N apologized as Jane dropped their duffle and got close to him. “If my moose is not doing well, I won’t be doing well either so let me take care of you today,” She planted a kiss on your lips. “No excuse.”

Jane grabbed their hand and led them to the dinner table, to eat. Y/N was loving her bossy tone today and was even managing to not think about his nightmares for now. They kept staring at Jane which even she noticed and was blushing trying her best to ignore it. “What is it, babe?” Jane questioned, even though she had an idea of what was going through Y/N’s mind. “Food can wait, I want you now.” They answered, desire lingering in their words.

They scooted their chair closer to Jane, gently grabbing her arm and planted a couple of kisses on it, flustering her. “Y-Y/N, wait.” They stopped their actions immediately as Jane reached for a bag and handed it to them. “What’s this?” They asked. “Open it and you’ll find out, silly moose.” She teased, as Y/N playfully rolled their eyes. They untied the black bag and to their surprise, it was a black leather collar with a leash? “This for me?” They were confused, making Jane smirk at them. “ I’m your pet now daddy” Jane barks, undressing herself and sits on her moose’s lap.

Y/N takes the collar, fastening it around her neck, a devilish smirk on his face as he admired her in her lingerie. He grips her jaw harshly, pulling her into a rough kiss, forcing his tongue into her mouth making her moan. He picked her up, his hands on her ass, keeping her safe and steady in his arms as he made his way to their bedroom.

“On your knees mutt.” He growled, watching as the agent submitted easily to his demand, her eyes watching his movements as he undone his trousers, pushing them down along with his boxers. His hand moved to grab a fistful of her golden locks. “Put that pretty mouth of yours to some good use.”

Her lips soon wrapped around his cock, her hands holding onto his thighs as she bobbed her head, taking him as deep as she could. Soon enough, he couldn’t handle it and took all control, using her mouth for his own gain.

“I’m going to cum.” He grunted as she squeezed his thighs, although he was being rough, being how she craved, he still cared for her and respected her. He soon moaned as he came, shooting his load down her throat, swallowing every drop before he pulled her to her feet. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He growled as he kissed her roughly, making quick work at removing her bra and underwear, soon enough gripping her jaw as he looked into her eyes, taking the lead with his other hand. “Are you going to be a good girl and do as I say mutt?”

“Yes.” She whimpered pathetically, making him smirk before he put the leash on her. He admired her naked form before pushing her onto the bed. His hand gripped her neck as he looked into her eyes.

“What’s the safe word?” He asked her softly, making her smile slightly.

“Red.” She confirmed as he smiled, his hand moving to roughly knead her breast.

“Good girl.” He husked out before he kissed her, swallowing her moans as he pinched her nipple. His other hand snaked between her legs as he applied light pressure against her clit. Not enough to satisfy the ache but enough to tease her and make her whine. “Tell me what you want?” He asked her, still painfully teasing her. With Jane being a strong and confident woman, she relented, she ignored him and soon regretted it as he pulled his hands away from her, tutting in disappointment. “You know the rules mutt.” He growled as he gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “All fours. Now.”

He moved away completely, watching as she soon moved to his command. He knelt behind her, massaging her ass cheeks before he removed his hand, bringing it back with a hard slap. She moaned at the sensation of the pain she felt, biting her lip as he repeated the action. He smirked as he could see her arousal dripping down her thighs, soon spreading her cheeks as he ran his hardened member through her folds, teasing her clit before he inserted his length roughly. The two moaned at the feeling, Jane clenching around him as he started to thrust hard and deep, his hands leaving bruises in his wake.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds.” He grunted as he went deeper and harder with each thrust. Jane found it near impossible to hold herself up as her arms started to falter, soon enough she found her head being pushed into the mattress, Y/N’s grip in her hair was painful but added to the pleasure. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried her hardest to hold in her orgasm.

“I’m going to cum.” She moaned as he continued to increase his speed.

“Beg for it.” He snarled as he pulled her up, her back flush against his front, his hand around her neck as he pounded into her.

“Please let me cum.” She whimpered. “I need to cum. I need to. Please.” He smirked as she begged and begged, seeing the tears fall from her eyes as she tried to hold her orgasm back.

“Cum for me mutt.” He whispered in her ear, biting the lobe as she came, he continued to chase his own high, causing Jane to squirt onto the bed, screaming as she felt such immense pleasure rush through her, soon slumping over as Y/N had calmed down himself. “I love you Jane.” He kissed her back as he pulled out of her. Turning her over before kissing her tenderly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, hearing as the tap was running and the tub was filling up with warm water.

“Stay.” She asked him as he placed her in the bath, sighing as the warm water covered her body. “Please.”

“Of course.” He smiled as he got in behind her, holding her close to him as the two relaxed, enjoying the closeness between the two.

#wind river #jane banner x reader #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #wanda maximoff #fbi agent #y/n #wandavision

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rendevok · 7 months

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Do you have headcanons for nrmt in 7yg? Like how would they communicate right after disbarment and during it?

7yg nrmt headcanons you say?

You have no idea the can of worms you just cracked open. 7yg is pretty much my favorite phase for them, and my hcs for that era feel endless. I’ll try to reel it in, but i’m extremely not normal about this topic.

Pertaining to whether or not they’re even talking: at the start of it, I definitely envision the scenario as Edgeworth being abroad for his legal studies, and Phoenix not really having the time, energy, or interest to make a call to deliver the news. Phoenix has to somehow secure meals for himself and a young girl, so telling people is probably low on his list of priorities. Still, I’m sure visits from friends would trickle in. He wouldn’t be opposed to seeing friends at first, but with each subsequent response to the news of his disbarment, he’d dread the inevitable (Edgeworth). I don’t think he would avoid Edgeworth entirely; he’d accept phone calls and maybe entertain a vague life update, partly to maintain a sense of normalcy for himself, but mostly because he wants to avoid whatever the hell Edgeworth would have to say about it all. However, he can only skirt around the truth for so long, and Edgeworth isn’t completely out of touch with social cues from a close friend like Phoenix to not realize he’s withholding something. Edgeworth being himself and this being about Phoenix… I don’t think he’d be in the dark for much longer after that.

After Edgeworth pays him his own in-person visit, things are tense between them. Phoenix is jaded, and Edgeworth is determined to uncover the truth (as well as help Phoenix in any way possible). They’d be at odds, and that tension would be drawn out until Phoenix himself starts to get a whiff of the foul play at hand. Only then would he begin to re-open that line of trust between him and Edgeworth again, and begin accepting Edgeworth’s offers to help. I don’t think Phoenix would handle years of knowing someone was out to get him very well without knowing he had someone he could trust.

I also like to imagine them (privately) leading a deeper investigation into the ever-evolving mystery surrounding Phoenix’s disbarment together, so in terms of literal choice of communication, they’d restrict sensitive conversations to being in-person only—a great excuse to visit Edgeworth many times overseas. :^))) Still, it’s a long form game and they couldn’t afford to do that all the time, so they settle for an annual visit at least (gay gay homosexual gay). Aside from that, it’s likely many long catch-up phone calls and godawful amounts of yearning for them, because they somehow manage to not act on their feelings despite outwardly looking like a couple to everyone around them.

TL;DR: at first they suck at communicating because of the circumstances and a semi-friendly disagreement on what to do about things, but in time their goals align and they figure out how to communicate homosexually (complex song and dance which results in not getting any*), and work together from a distance.

I hope this made some sense because tbqh I had to stop myself from just straight up attempting to write out the development of their relationship over the course of seven fucking years. They are corroding the hinges on my brain. ♡

#*….unless..?#I believe in pining 7yg nrmts despite basically being a family rights #i have a file dedicated to 7yg hcs and i live in fear of how large it will get someday #if i could write a fic? it would be about the 7yg #not even necessarily about nrmts tho they would be there obviously #asks #anonymous #i just realized i should probably tag these so uhhhh #hcs #7yg #narumitsu #aa

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bvannn · 4 months

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Weekly Update December 22, 2023

Still recovering from the semester, going very slowly. I’m trying to do stuff but mood and body are being volatile. Probably dread and anxiety leading up to the surgery next Tuesday, but I have been updated that most likely I will actually be able to leave on the same day after all because they moved it to 7:30 in the fucking morning. Convenient I guess but also going to be messed up that whole week probably.

I did a good few drawings yesterday. If I’m feeling up tonight I might do more. I’m trying to do more of the soft shading in addition to the hard shading, so the hard shading isn’t as harsh looking. Did it in my new pfp and it looks really good on the ghosts in particular. Has had more mixed results on the others but that’s probably due to my color choices.

Going to try fiddling with comic thumbnails as well, hoping it’ll be a larger project for next year. I’ve been drawing the characters for my secondary story a little more than I probably should so I’m going to hope inspiration hits for the O’Malley kids soon, since art block is kinda cropping up in that regard.

Music: the main song I’ve been working on is done instrumentally for now, soundfonts did in fact fix everything. Specifically the Touhou soundfont, because of course it was that one. I’m hoping if I get more energy tonight I can record pieces for the next song. I’ll still need to fiddle with outlining and lyrics for the first song, but I can’t progress much further on it until I manage to snag a vocaloid or utau (or synthV or cevio I guess, but idk or care much about those). Next couple ones I try to bite at are going to probably be instrumental. I might throw boards together for videos for them but that will be low priority until the songs are done done.

TRGA: so due to circumstance I haven’t really had as much chance to work on it as I thought. I did start cleaning up Tim 1-4, but not too much beyond that. Mostly because the time I set aside for it has been allotted to tending to my mood and body, so hopefully after some rest I can start taking bigger bites at it. If I get messed up on painkillers next week that is the project I will be most likely to work on, so I’ll try to get actual big bites out of it. If I get myself back to doing a schedule, I can probably get shots done faster than I have, which is good because admittedly I have been probably more proscrastinatey than I should be. Tonight I’ll try to continue on it, until I get Tim completely cleaned up, and potentially also get started on his face or hands.

Next week will be unpredictable, due to holiday and surgery. I’m hoping I’ll be able to get that computer I’ve been teased about so I can try to actually unload all my music making stuff, and get a good opportunity to reorganize my CSP brushes. I went a bit crazy on Black Friday this year since music software sites apparently just have 100% off sales on some of their cheaper items, and I got like $300 worth of stuff for free and then some. Haven’t been using it because of storage space. Whatever, bottom line is I can’t really predict next week but I can try to put a schedule together tonight and maybe abide by it as best I can. Whatever.

#weekly update

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dryemiddi · 1 year

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I won’t be able to do much here to celebrate the sendoff of 2022 and the coming of 2023, so a simple post like this will have to suffice: to think aloud for a moment. I’m already well prepared for 2023 to be one of the most challenging (or grueling for lack of a better word) years of my life. Lot’s of huge turning points will be coming up in a little over six months, some even sooner, so don’t be surprised if I’m a little more absent from this space, at least for a small while. M’ gonna be turning 18, learning to drive, finding my first job, applying to university and all that real fun, dreadful adult stuff. Not to mention 2023 is going to be a crucial year in me deciding where the trajectory of my life will be aimed. I know very well this year -and the handful of years following- are going to be extremely emotionally and mentally taxing-- and I want to prepare for that to the best of my ability. That means assessing and setting solid my new priorities. So naturally, I’m not going to concern myself over projects all that much. My big comic (and soon to be fic) IVIS will get the most attention-- if I want to prove to anyone that I’m capable of finishing what I start, it will be with that. Aside from the one, I’m not going to weigh myself down with too many projects like I so often have in the past; it’s simply not something I can really afford to do at this (very quickly) upcoming stage of my life. I think I just need to breathe, honestly. Most of what I’ll make here going forward will be sporadic and in service of indulging myself in the moment. I’m giving myself as much breathing room as possible with so much uncertainty looming over the near future. So... yeah. 2022 was not as disastrous as the two previous years, so I’ll count that as a win. Here’s hopes to 2023 being... manageable.

#drye rambles #new year #2023 #life update #update

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avalontypical · 3 months

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Hello. My name is Avalon I am 28 years old and it's been a minute. Don't worry, I can catch you up.

Career Catch Up

I got married in May of 2022. The day I got back from my honeymoon, my boss pulled me aside and told me it seemed like I was unhappy. He told me that my work was slipping, and he was starting to wonder if I wanted to be in production. This slammed me so hard I cried. Right there in front of him. It was dreadful and embarrassing. I spent months afterward so frustrated that in the moment I proved to him I was the stupid, soft girl who couldn't handle production. The whole meeting was a highlight reel of everything I had been afraid of; that I wasn't cut out for it, that I was failing my team. Brutal.

Jump forward to August, and they've posted a Supply Chain Engineer role. My boss brings the job description to me and asks me if I would be interested. Value engineering - what is that? I can see the writing on the wall so I interview for the position and get it. One week after they tell me I've got the role, I am moved to a cubicle. This timeliness is unheard of for production managers.

And then I am there. I have a manager who is soft-spoken, nearly whispers. I work only 8 hours. I am horribly antsy about this after working 9s and 10s for two years. It's laughable now because I was truly so wound up about this new role. Looking at it now I am so comfortable I can hardly picture myself then. But it was such a bug deal, the title change and the hours and all of it. But it has ended up being so right, a fantastic stepping stone. But the early days were tough, and not in a 'Hey, go tell your team mandatory OT tomorrow' tough but like a deep reflection and slow down and just sitting in my feelings and this big shift kind of tough. I agonized over everything.

For the next year, I became empowered to do whatever I found valuable for the business. I learned to fight through imposter syndrome and to manage my own time and priorities. For the next year, I set out to learn and grow and work on cross functional teams and support production in any way that I could. I learned to pick up projects that interested me. I conducted trainings and developed a quiet reputation for being able to get stuff done. (I adore this) Then in Septemeber 2023 the should-cost tool began to gain momentum, and I entered conversations about being one part SCA power user and one part NA VE lead. This is the most open ended role I've approached. Strategic in some ways, but I think it will be most potent if I can figure out how to tactically help other units, more to come on that. Anyway, talks lingered through to the new year and in January 2024 I accepted the position. Due to start in February.

And now you're all caught up.

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rhomsfanfic · 3 years

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“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard.”

[Prompt taken from here]

A little something where you convince your husband to finally go to bed with you instead of working.

Characters: Diluc x Reader

»»————-　♥　————-««

“Diluc.”

Your voice was enough to finally tear him out of the trance-like state he had been under. Not even once in his life had he complained about his work, but undeniably it has grown into a much more excessive part of his life, keeping him up on his legs all day, all night, and beyond into his dreams. If he wasn’t checking up on Angel’s Share or fighting under the cape of the night for Mondstadt’s safety, it was either paperwork or research that was keeping him awake. It would have been nice if it was only you keeping him busy.

“Love?” Diluc looked up, features softening as he saw you leaning against the door frame. Even if he looked just like the first day you met him, you slowly but surely had noticed the little signs of exhaustion that showed on his face. “It’s so late,” he instead pointed out, and you huffed, a tired smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “That’s what I should say.”

Moving closer, you circled the big table, a stunning piece of craftsmanship. But it was also the amenity you envied the most. “Sometimes I think you’re married to this table rather than me.”

Even though Diluc concealed the sigh, you knew exactly how to hurt him the most. So many things mattered to him, but you were high on his priorities. Having you point out the apparent faults he made wasn’t pleasant. Setting his quill aside, he brought his hands to his face, briefly rubbing out the tension that had built all night long, ever since he crawled into this nest, he called his office. “I know, I’m sorry,” is all that he could say and would say, and you had heard it at least a thousand times before.

Bringing your hand up to his head, you let your fingers run through the red strands of hair, something he always enjoyed. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and leaned into your palm, making you eager to comfort him. Where he was reluctant to get close to anyone, let alone have them touch him, around you, Diluc was willing to let his walls crumble at least a bit. You had known what kind of man he was when you agreed to marry him. He had asked you at least three times before the wedding if you were sure. If you were absolutely certain it should be him. Not even once had you hesitated with your answer. Not even once did you allow him to doubt your relationship.

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard.”

But was that asking too much? Was it selfish that you wished you could have him for at least one night out of seven in a week just to yourself? Head tilted back, his eyes opening, Diluc looked at you, but at the same time, he didn’t. You could see it in the light reflecting in his irises that he dreaded your statement, feared to continuously do things wrong even if he wanted to do everything right. “You have wrinkles here,” you pointed out, bringing your free hand up to his forehead, drawing over the lines in his skins. “And you can’t hide these bags under your eyes from me.”

Placing your palm over his cheek, you tenderly caressed his face, actually managing to draw a short chuckle from him before he leaned down to kiss the inside of your hand. For a while, you two just remained this intimately, and with his eyes almost closing again, you could guess just how tired he must feel now that you tore him out of his concentration.

“Come to bed with me,” you urged, and immediately he tensed again, eyes snapping open to look at the many papers waiting on his desk still. But you reacted almost as quickly, turning his head to you and make him face you. “At least tonight. Please don’t let me sleep alone again… It makes me lonely.”

Briefly, you two stared at each other before he nodded, sighing deeply. Kissing your wrist once more, Diluc brushed off your hands on him gently in favor of pushing back his chair and getting up. Watching him stand up after he had been sitting for hours, you couldn’t help but think it made him look pretty old, and you grinned at the thought of teasing him. Finally seeing eye to eye with him, you snaked your arms around his torso, embracing him tightly with your head settling against his chest.

Rarely did you have the right time and place to be affectionate with each other. Even if he held your hand in public or even gave you a kiss to your head when he said his farewells, you never truly had him all to yourself like you had now. When Diluc hugged you back, it wasn’t a tight squeeze, more like he held himself back, as if afraid he could hurt you. Even after all this time, he was still a little awkward and shy with his affections, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It was his way of caring for you, even if he only could do so much.

Instead, his head sunk to yours, resting on top, one of his hands gently dragging down your back. “I’m sorry for making you lonely. It wasn’t my intention.”

“I know,” you sighed, releasing him so you could look him in the face again. “Can’t you just let your employees handle some of the paperwork? So that when I wake up in the morning, the bed isn’t still freshly made next to me?”

This time it was his turn to comfort you. You saw him eyeing his gloves for a split second as he went to cup your face. Though you were prepared for the cool and soft feel of fabric, he changed his mind, instead pulling you forward into his chest again. “I will try. I’ll have them take some of the reports and try to see you more.”

“That’s all I ask for,” you smiled. You enjoyed having him show his thoughtfulness and tenderness, but you quickly realized that now wasn’t the time to bask in it. After all, he was still Diluc, owner of the dawn winery and angel’s share, Darknight Hero of Mondstadt, and your very, very tired husband.

“Let’s go,” you incited, taking his hand to walk him back to your shared bedroom. However, you stopped before leaving the office, raising your free hand to bring his face down to you a little. Surprising him with a kiss, Diluc caught on quickly enough, tempted by the softness of your lips and the love that was passed over from them. “I see now,” he mumbled solemnly as you took a break from the kiss. “What do you mean?”

“I was missing out on a lot,” he merely answered, kissing you, again and again, making you wish the sun would never rise so you could have him to yourself for just one more kiss.

#Diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc genshin impact #diluc genshin #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin writing #genshin scenario #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin headcanons #genshin oneshot

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calif0rnia-lovers · 3 years

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sweet as pie.

a/n: please join me in welcoming sam wilson to the page. first story dedicated to this classic man, surely not the last.

pairing: sam wilson x black!reader

rating: 💙

main masterlist | taglist | divider © @whimsicalrogers

sum: sam is home. although times have changed, his sister’s intentions for him have not. sarah would love for her brother to settle down, and she knows the perfect person to make him do it. but when sam gets caught up with work, he misses the date sarah has set up for him.

words: 2.3K

It’s funny how the human mind works.

How easily certain moments can slip through its cracks. Names, dates, songs, conversations, faces lost to the wind, never to be remembered again. In the same turn, how those same things can be retained, recited down to the last detail in perfection.

Sam Wilson has seen enough in his lifetime--more than most men. No one could condemn him for forgetting the smallest of details from time to time. Sometimes he does. He is human. But, strangely, he can never forget a single detail when it comes to you.

Sam can still remember the first time he saw you.

The coffee-colored, cardboard box you carried in your arms--'living room' written across the front panel in your mother’s flawless penmanship. The dark curls pineappled to rest atop the crown of your head--a last-ditch attempt of fighting the Louisiana heat. The oversized Purple Rain t-shirt faded from too many runs through the wash. The round, black sunglasses sliding down the brim of your nose as you paused to take note of the boy watching you from his front window. Down to the scuffed, worn high tops that could barely pass for white.

He even remembers the soft smile you gave him once he froze--too embarrassed to move from the window after being caught watching you for the third time--before turning to lug the box up the steps of your front porch.

It was the summer of ‘94, and Sam Wilson was running late. He was expected to be at the docks assisting his father. Instead, he was peeping around his mother’s powder blue curtains, attempting to score glimpses of his new neighbors. Primarily their teenage daughter.

It’s not every day that Delacroix welcomes a new resident--let alone an entire family. Later that night, over dinner, his mother shared that you were entering your senior year--same as him.

He still remembers the knotting of his stomach. The strange and unusual experience of being tongue-tied when he’d tripped over his name--his name for god’s sake--that morning, you opened your front door to find him and Sarah on the other side. The kindness of your dark brown eyes as they met his, the soft giggle you released as you ignored his sputtering to accept the chocolate chip cookies his mother sent her children to deliver.

He also remembers the vision of you in your wedding dress. The smile he had to keep plastered on his face the night he learned his skepticism, surrounding death by broken heart, faded. You’ve never felt pain until you’ve seen the woman you love marry another man.

Sam must admit. When he returned, he expected--hoped--that those feelings would have disappeared. That they would have been erased from his life. Only, the moment he returned home, Sam discovered those feelings remained--were stronger even.

Five years later, he found you in the same house. Your parents no lived there. After their return from the blip, they packed up their things. Suddenly, tackling their bucket list was their main priority. You still had your husband’s last name but no husband. He was gone, lost to a younger woman.

Five years later, and Sam Wilson finds himself still frozen by the sight of you.

The long-sleeved maroon shirt he’s tugged on is not his number one choice. It’s all he had in his bag. The time on his watch had forced him into an ultimatum. Either run home, shower, and change into the outfit Sarah helped him pick out and risk being five hours late. Or head straight to your house, and risk being four hours and forty-five minutes late.

Sam opted for the latter.

Flowers in hand, he stands in the gateway of your backyard. His eyes admire the glow of the string lights against your skin. The yard has been transformed. Several tables and chairs, enough to host the entire neighborhood, squeezed into its space. Filled with music and laughter a few hours before the backyard is now quiet. Only the sounds of crickets, and the rustle of the trash bag in your hand, can be heard over the racing of Sam’s heart.

“Hey.” Sam takes a step forward, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Late is an understatement.” You don’t bother looking up from the plates stacked in your hands. Dumping them into the black trash bag, you move towards the next table. “You missed the entire party.”

After dumping the trash, you realize that Sam is no longer in the backyard. You find him in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” You ask, coming to a stop in the doorway.

Sam glances up from the soap-covered glass in his hands. “Helping you clean up.”

You glance around the kitchen, only to find that he’s managed to wash nearly the entire stack of dishes you’ve been dreading the entire night.

“I didn’t realize you still did stuff like this,” you tease. “What with you running off to save the world. Figured you’d just hire someone to do it for you.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I got you to keep me humble,” he winks.

Sam dries his hands with the bumblebee printed hand towel, a satisfied grin on his lips as he takes in the spotless kitchen. He’s too busy admiring his handiwork to realize you’re standing alongside him.

He turns, the snarky comment he’s prepared lost in his throat as he takes you in.

You can’t deny him a smile as you watch his eyes widen, a boyish grin brightening his face as he takes in the plate you’re holding. On it rests a single slice of homemade apple pie, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and perfectly drizzled caramel.

“I think you’ve earned this.”

“You saved me a piece?”

“No,” you sigh, allowing your eyes to roll. “I actually saved it for me. But if I have to look at your pathetic attempt at puppy dog eyes one more second--”

“You were hoping I’d show up.” The grin on Sam’s face has morphed into a trademark smirk, the sight pulling a giggle from your lips. “You and I both know you don’t save, or share your pie with just anyone.”

Sam’s observation is spot on.

You don’t share your pie--or food, for that matter--with just anyone. In the chaos of hosting the neighborhood, you didn’t have a moment to stop and enjoy your own party. Let alone a slice of the apple pies you’d spent the previous night preparing.

Apple pies--specifically yours--were Sam Wilson’s true weakness.

The moment he sees you lugging home a bag full of granny smith and macintosh apples, he’s on full helicopter mode. You’re not sure how he knows, but he’s got a radar. One that somehow allows him to prophesize the exact moment the pies are out of the oven and set aside to cool.

He’ll show up, stopping by to say hi, or to see if you still need the drainpipe your ex-husband never got around to working on fixed, or to “pass along a message” from Sarah--as though your best friend couldn’t pick up the phone and call. Whatever the excuse Sam Wilson always manages to be the one to get the first slice of your apple pie. He’s smart enough to know that once the children of the neighborhood catch a whiff, they’ll show up on your doorstep. And as much as he loves the kids--Sam isn’t letting them steal his pie.

Sam’s words come out muffled through a mouthful of apples and crust. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Y/N. You should sell these. You'd make a killing.”

“And I’ve already told you, it’s just for fun,” you dismiss his advice, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “Besides, what do you expect me to do? Quit my good paying--although painstakingly boring--job in the hopes that enough people will like my baking to keep me afloat?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sam nods, a smile growing as he watches your eyes roll.

It’s a conversation the two of you have had for years. Here is the rundown of how it plays out--every single time.

Sam: suggests that you finally open up the bakery you’ve been talking about since your teenage years.

You: dismiss his words of advice, reminding Sam that most teenage dreams are foolish.

Sam: ends the conversation with, “I’d show up every day for a piece.”

You: spend the rest of the night wondering if he’s right, about taking the chance, only to psych yourself out before going to bed.

“I’m just saying,” Sam sighs, sliding the plate to the side. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned. Life is going to pass you by, regardless, no matter what you do. If you give it a shot, and it fails--which is never going to happen--your life isn’t going to end.”

You glance up from the table, a tiny smile on your lips as you take in his soft smile.

“Maybe you’re right,” you shrug. “If all else fails, I’ll just tell everyone it’s the Falcon’s favorite pie--”

“You’ll have people flooding in from across the country.”

“It’s settled,” you giggle. “I’m using you in my business model.”

“Hey,” Sam chuckles. “As long as I get a cut, I’m not complaining.”

A silence falls over the tiny kitchen as your gaze drops from his.

Sam lightly raps his knuckles against the table before pushing his chair back.

“Uh—I should probably head out. You’re probably tired. I just wanted to come by and apologize...again.”

“Wow,” the light laugh you release halts Sam’s act of standing up. “The second you get what you came for you hit the ground running?”

The response is automatic. The chance to tease him is one you never pass up.

Sam’s brow raises as he takes in your smile.

“That’s not what I came for,” he admits.

“What did you come for then?”

“To ask you over to my place for breakfast tomorrow.”

The proposition hangs in the air, Sam nearly squirming in his seat as you take your time studying his gaze. You let out a sigh, your shoulders shrugging lightly, once you finally speak.

“I don’t know, Sam” You shake your head. Picking up the plate, you stand and cross the kitchen to the sink. “You just have so many responsibilities, nowadays, running around trying to save the world--”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he’s quick with the reassurance. “Or any day, until we get through that date you promised me.”

You turn to face him, arms crossing over your chest as he comes to a stop before you.

“Say I show up. You have to promise me something.”

“Whatever you want.”

He knows that promise can end up being a slippery slope, depending on how hard you’re willing to make him work for it.

“If something comes up, in the future, you call me. And you tell me exactly why you can’t be here. Nobody gets to stand me up. Not the Falcon. And sure as hell, not Sam Wilson. Understood?”

Sam’s eyes drop to your interlaced fingers, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Standing on your toes, you place a kiss against his cheek. “Now, go get some sleep. You’re making me breakfast in the morning. I’m expecting waffles, bacon, freshly squeezed O.J.--the works.”

if at any point you would like to be removed from the taglist, just message me

sam wilson tags: @missroro @fangirl-swagg

main tags: @crowngold @cant-decide-at-this-moment @wiccanmetallicrose @themarkblues @gemini0410 @binooo98 @the-jer-bear @abbiesthings @trhett21 @trulysuccubus @leahnicole1219 @starrynite7114 @awkwardtayler @toni9 @queenbeered @kaystacks17 @thesandbeneathmytoes @richonne4life @cocotheclown @oscars-wifeyyy @jennisdirtyimagines @ughdontbeboring @myakai13 @linziland13 @sadeyesgf @brattyfics @sincerelykas @ladyofsoa @pearlkitten33 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @rosieposie0624 @appropriate-writers-name @demonquartz @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @beiroviski @chaneajoyyy @frostingguru @seize-the-droid @cutiebubbleboo @siempremamita @awkwardtayler @relaxing-najee @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @inyourbackpocketisbutterflies

#sorry its up late ya'll already know i had to watch the new episode of All American #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x black!reader #sam wilson imagine #the falcon x you #tfatws imagine #anthony mackie imagine

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bellakitse · 3 years

Text

Making friends in Life or Death situations

“No,” Nancy shakes her head quickly, tightening her hold on his face so he can focus on her. “You have to stay awake,” she continues, her voice cracking as fear grips her again. This is her friend, sure they don’t know each other that well, but Carlos is nice and sweet and the love of her partner’s life. He’s her friend, damn it, and she’s not going to lose him, not after losing Tim. “Please, stay awake.”

Carlos and Nancy are trapped together after a tornado hits the pharmacy they are in.

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 2: Emergencies/“Please, stay awake.”/Angst

Nancy Gillian walks into the Walgreens just as her phone rings out another tornado warning.

“Dear, we’re closing early, in 15 mins,” an older woman behind the counter says to her with a quick smile. “Because of the tornados.”

Nancy gives the woman a nod of acknowledgment and quickly makes her way down to the pet aisle. She wouldn’t even be out if it wasn’t for the fact that she realized she was down to her last can of cat food and with no time to make a Costco run for her new tabby. Looking through the limited selection, she picks a few of the chicken options, dropping them into her basket, and heads for the junk food aisle. Just some salt and vinegar Pringles to go with the leftover Easter chocolates she has back at her apartment, and she can head home and ride out the bad weather.

Turning the corner without looking in her rush to finish her shopping, she bumps face-first into a solid chest, bouncing right off it. She feels herself fall back and closes her eyes, bracing for the pain falling will cause, but it never comes. Instead, strong hands grab hold of her waist, keeping her upright.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry – Nancy?”

Nancy opens her eyes at the sound of her name, finding familiar brown eyes looking at her with concern.

“Officer Reyes!” she squeaks out, blushing when he raises an eyebrow at her. “I mean, Carlos – hi!”

Carlos gives her a friendly smile in return. “Hello, Nancy.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly, gesturing around them. “I was in a rush to get what I need before the tornados touch down and wasn’t looking.”

“Same,” Carlos says with a laugh. “TK sent me to get what we need to ride it out before we are eventually called into work when it’s over.”

Nancy peeks into his basket, her eyebrows going up when she finds condoms, lubricant, and ice cream in it. “The essentials for sure,” she says dryly, biting back a smirk when she sees him blush and start to stammer in response. “Relax, officer,” she continues, feeling bad for how red he’s turned. “We all know how nauseatingly in love you and my partner are. This is not shocking.”

“Maybe not shocking, but embarrassing for sure,” Carlos grumbles back, scowling at her when she lets out a snort.

She grins at him, pleased when he gives her a reluctant smile back. She doesn’t know Carlos all that well. She’s been to his place a handful of times now that TK has made it a point to invite her when the rest of the 126 meets up at their apartment. But Carlos is usually in the kitchen making sure everyone is well-fed, and afterwards, he seems to enjoy sitting back and watch their brassier friends interact. She understands the instinct, feeling they’re a lot alike, which is why she can’t help but feel comfortable around him even though they’re not super familiar with each other.

She opens her mouth to tease him some more when a piercing siren rings out and the lights in the establishment flicker seconds before the whole place starts to shake.

“Shit,” Carlos curses, already on the move as he drops his basket and takes her arm, moving her further back.

“The cashier – “ she starts to say, only for her voice to get lost under the howling winds. It’s so loud; it sounds like a freight train barreling straight for them. She blinks, once, maybe twice, less than a second of time, but it’s all that’s needed for the front of the place to disappear under collapsing walls and ceiling.

She feels strong arms go around her waist, and the next thing she knows, she’s rolling across a hard surface and landing on the floor. Carlos covers her as best he can with his body, trying to make them as small as possible as they cower under the counter desk of the pharmacy section of the Walgreens. She can’t hear much past the whirling winds and her racing heart, but somewhere in there, she hears a hard grunt. She looks up at Carlos, still hovering over her, doing his best to protect her, but she sees pain clouding his expression.

“Are you okay?” she shouts, worry spiking her pulse as she sees a trail of blood rolling down the side of his face.

“Something hit me in the head and my back,” he grits out as the winds begin to calm down. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine; you’re bleeding,” she points out, not sure if he’s noticed yet. Given the way his eyes widen when he touches his hairline, she doesn’t think he has. She goes to say more when the walls around them let out a loud groan followed by a series of bangs as more of the place falls down around them.

She closes her eyes, tucking her face into Carlos’ shoulder.

Carlos pulls her closer to him in return, and she’s thankful for the kindness as she hides in his frame. If this is the end, she realizes she doesn’t actually want to see it.

A few minutes pass like this as she waits for it to end, be it the disaster or her life, she’s not really sure, but slowly the howling lessens until it’s only a dull echo in her ears.

“Nance – it’s stopping,” Carlos says softly, giving her a slight shake, bringing her back to the present.

Slowly she pulls back, surprised she can still see, realizing that somehow the lights have managed to stay on, flickering, but on. She looks at Carlos to find him giving her a concerned look.

“Well,” she starts to say, licking her lips nervously. “That was terrifying.”

Carlos lets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a hiss.

“What, what is it?” she asks quickly as she watches his face go slightly grey.

“I – I think,” he stops, closing his eyes but not fast enough to hide the pain from her. “I think something is in my back?”

“What?” she squeaks out. She moves to her knees, her hands hovering over Carlos’ shoulders as he sits down on the floor with a heavy sigh. Going around him, she starts to probe him, stopping short when she feels something hard and jagged by the right side of his flank. She swallows a gasp as she realizes what it is.

“How bad?” he questions, his voice tight as the obvious pain starts to set in.

“It’s – it’s glass,” Nancy whispers with dread as she notices the patch of blood on his shirt is growing.

Carlos lets out a weary sigh. “Of course it is,” he mutters dryly. “TK is going to be so pissed.”

Nancy ignores his comment, starting to get up from under the desk counter. “Okay, we need to get you out of here,” she says, just for Carlos to let out a chuckle.

“Hate to burst your bubble, but I’m pretty sure the front of this place collapsed, trapping us back here,” Carlos says far more calmly than she feels the moment merits. “We are lucky the walls dividing the back of the pharmacy and the front held up – protecting us.”

Nancy looks through the counter’s window, where she would usually wait for her prescriptions to be filled, and realizes he’s right. Carlos pushing them behind the counter saved them, but now the whole front is a maze of rubble with no apparent way out.

“Fuck me,” she swears, feeling the frustration and panic build inside her. She lets it for a second before pushing it aside. She’s a trained paramedic, and right now, her main priority is making sure she stops Carlos’ from bleeding out. She looks behind her, letting out a relieved breath to see that the space they are in is relatively sound. If she’s going to be trapped with an injured person needing her care, there are worse places to be than a fully stocked pharmacy.

“Check your phone, Carlos,” she says to him, already on the move. “I’m going to get supplies to care for your injuries.”

She gets a grunt back from Carlos and takes it as an okay as she steps over the mess of pills and supplies on the floor and thanks whatever higher power might be watching over them when she finds bandages, alcohol, and even a pair of scissors in her search. She makes her way back to Carlos to find him hunched over, his expression dazed as he stares at his phone.

“Carlos?” she questions, repeating his name louder when he doesn’t answer right away. He blinks in her direction, and she can see he’s not all there with her. She ignores the trickle of fear that runs up her spine as a result. “Did you get through to anyone?”

Carlos shakes his head slowly. “The lines – they’re not – “

“Okay, that’s okay,” she rushes to reassure him as she comes to sit in front of him. She takes ahold of his face, feeling the tackiness of the drying blood on his head. Two injuries then, she makes a note. “We’ll try again after I bandage you up, okay?”

“I’m tired, Nance,” Carlos answers, his speech becoming slurred, and Nancy adds likely concussion to the list. “My side hurts, and my head.”

“I know, hon,” she answers with what she hopes is a comforting tone. “But I’m going to fix it, okay?”

Carlos blinks at her slowly. “Sleep.”

Carlos looks at her with wide eyes before slowly reaching up to touch her face, startling her as she realizes that it’s wet from tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “Don’t cry, Nance.”

“Then stay awake,” she answers back, letting out a shaky smile when he gives her a solemn nod in return with an ‘I promise.’

“Okay,” she says softly, letting go of his face to turn to his back. “I’m going to clean and pack the wound. We can’t take the glass out because you’ll probably bleed more, but we can secure it.”

“Okay,” Carlos answers, giving her permission.

“Sorry about your shirt,” she says quickly as she starts to cut it up the middle.

Carlos lets out a hiss as she pours the rubbing alcohol over the wound. It’s thankfully not as big as she initially thought, but she winces when Carlos lets out a shout as she starts to press the gauzes around it. She tries to think of a way to distract him from the pain, letting out a quick breath when it comes to her. “Talk to me about TK,” she instructs him, hoping it will achieve the goal.

“TK?” Carlos questions sluggishly.

“Yeah, tell me about him, about the two of you,” she says as she rolls out more bandages.

Carlos lets out a sigh. It has the same sappy sound that she hears when TK talks about Carlos or is on the phone with him. “I just love him so much,” he answers, and even though she can’t see his face, she knows he’s smiling through the pain. “He’s beautiful and kind, silly and sweet, and when he looks at me the way he does, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I’m so lucky he loves me back.”

Nancy smiles at the comment; she’s heard TK say the same exact thing. She tells Carlos as she makes a quick finish of securing his wound before moving to face him and deal with his head injury.

“He has?” Carlos questions her with a boyish grin, looking loopier, his eyes heavy. “That’s good. I bought him a ring; now I just have to work up the nerve to ask him to marry me.”

Nancy stares at Carlos for a moment, sure that he wouldn’t have revealed that if he was in all his five senses.

“Are you sure I can’t sleep?” he questions quietly, swaying towards her.

Nancy shakes her head at him, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Not when she can see that his eyes are rolling back, and she has just enough time to keep his face from meeting the floor as he slumps forward.

“Carlos!”

֎֎֎

Nancy has grown to hate the sounds and smells of hospitals. She thinks she’s lucky to not be a doctor or a nurse and not have to be in one every day, but she’s still in them enough because the people she cares about are danger magnets, and she hates it.

They get rescued not long after Carlos has passed out, but it still feels like eons to her. She rides in the ambulance with him, ignoring the paramedics that want to look her over in favor of holding Carlos’ hand. She doesn’t let go until she absolutely has to in order to allow the doctors to work, and she doesn’t break down until she sees TK walk through the hospital doors with a panic-stricken look on his face.

She cries on his shoulder, feeling horrible that he’s comforting her when it’s his boyfriend who is hurt. Fresh tears spring up when he hugs her tight, thanking her for saving the man he loves, and even though he tells her to go home, she waits until Carlos opens his eyes again.

She doesn’t have a home anyway; her neighbor left a message telling her the tornados destroyed her place, luckily he managed to get her cat out, watching over her until she can get back.

She sits in one of the uncomfortable but familiar chairs as the 126 and Carlos’ parents come and go in the later hours, all the while she remains next to TK as they wait for Carlos to wake up. It’s late at night, and TK has fallen asleep next to her when Carlos finally opens his eyes, and Nancy springs forward, rushing to his side, holding her breath as he slowly blinks to consciousness.

“Nancy,” he gets out roughly, and Nancy feels her eyes sting in return. “Are you okay?”

“You said you’d stay awake,” she accuses him as the tears roll down her face. “You promised.”

Carlos looks like he’s in pain, but it doesn’t stop him from giving her a kind look. He reaches out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I did. I’m sorry, Nancy.”

“You can keep calling me Nance,” she whispers, squeezing his hand back. “We’re friends now.”

Carlos smiles at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Very cool,” he says softly before looking past her at his sleeping boyfriend. “Is he okay?”

Nancy nods, giving TK a soft look of her own over her shoulder. “He’s strong, and he knew you were going to be just fine,” she says with a smile. “Let me wake him up.”

She starts to turn, only to be stopped when Carlos holds on to her hand. “What I told you – “ he begins, looking at her with those big brown eyes of his that endears him to everyone who meets him, herself included.

“I’m not going to ruin your surprise,” she assures him, chuckling when he lets out a breath.

“Thanks, Nance,” Carlos says, smiling once more.

Nancy returns it kindly. “Hey, what are friends for.”

#911 lone star #carlos reyes #nancy gillian #lonestarweekend #lsweekend2021 #tarlos fic #because they are still mention #even though this is a Nancy and Carlos friendship fic first #911 lone star fic #my writing

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alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

Text

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader IX

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Word Count: 6500+

[Chapter VIII] [Chapter X]

Summary: After somehow reconciling with Adler, Bell and the team are left to continue their pursuit of bringing down the undercover spy ring, but it proves to be more of a challenge as Bell struggles to move on from their Perseus-affiliated past.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, mention of drugs, straight up agony

Notes: Writing action is so hard.

January 21, 1984

The Pines Mall, New Jersey

Two hours.

That was the slim interval between Stitch's departure from the safehouse to Zenya and Adler's arrival to the mess left behind.

He missed you by two hours.

Thus, with each minute that passed, your chances of survivability lowered.

With these kinds of thoughts wracking around in Adler's brain, the plane ride to New Jersey was becoming more tense than it should have. He couldn't even rest during the flight, and instead just crossed his arms and looked out the window into darkness.

Not only was the lives of innocent people on his shoulders, but you were also part of the mix and taken hostage. If he were to ease up now, there was the chance of a slip up. Adler needed to concentrate, but without you there, it felt like a piece was missing— a big chunk gone from the whole.

He had but a few hours to assemble a team. A part of him didn't want to participate in the mission to the Pines Mall, but he was the one leading the squadron, so there was no other option available.

Thus, Adler dreaded at the thought of finding out what Stitch had in store for him. Simultaneously, though, he was itching for the encounter to release his pent up stress and project the anger. The last interaction he had with his nemesis was taking out his left eye, and the last thing he heard about him was that Kravchenko sent him to prison. But, as it turns out, you broke him out, and let the monster loose.

Did he blame you? No, not entirely, since he himself had a part to play in the end. Everything about you stemmed from him. Like Hudson said back then, if he only killed Perseus in Vietnam, they didn't have to deal with Greenlight. And if he just killed Stitch, you wouldn't be in this situation.

But if those events didn't happen, he would have never met you. It was bothersome to consider that the world worked in such a way.

A meeting was held right as he and Zenya got off the plane, and he had made the call ahead of time to assemble a small team consisting of himself, Zenya, Wyatt “Bulldozer” Jones, and Woods. Mason and Lazar were quick to volunteer the moment he broke the news to them earlier, but he couldn't let them on. Because Hudson wouldn't allow it.

"Bell's not a traitor."

It was taking Adler’s entire willpower not to blow off at him. And yet at the simple suggestion that you went rogue, he went ballistic. How ironic it was to hear someone else tell him the same excuse he told Lazar, Mason, Sims, and Woods after returning alone from the cliff. Even as stupid as it sounded, a lie that fell so easily off of one’s tongue can become a truth to many.

"I know that, Adler. Trust me, I’m not too keen on it either,” Hudson proclaims. “I don’t know what’s going on through Black’s mind. He wasn’t too eager to find out that the asset was taken off radar.”

"The asset you asked Bell to meet was a Perseus agent. How did that fly under the radar? Bell did what should have been done a long time ago."

Adler was seething, trying his utmost best to not storm out of the room.

"The orders are to execute any hostiles. And, unfortunately, that includes Bell. The mission comes first, I hope you remember that. Lives of thousands of civilians are at stake, and I don't need your personal agenda—"

"You made an exception for Mason. They shouldn't be any different."

"Mason is one of our own."

"And Bell isn't? You were at DEFCON 2, and even then you put your trust in Mason. Or are we just playing favorites now?"

Hudson pressed his lips in a thin line, unable to come up with an explanation or excuse. This scenario was too uncanny, almost like a replica of what they went through years ago. In Hudson’s place was Adler, as you were to Mason. As much as he hated to admit it, he had actually taken a liking to you. But, having to balance out the decisions made between him, Adler, and Black was crucial, and this was the best option to tackle the situation at play.

“Bell provided us the information we needed to even have this mission in the first place,” Adler continued to interpose, “We at least owe them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Look, Adler. I had enough trouble as is just trying to convince the higher ups to let you lead the team. This isn’t my call, or your call to make. It’s Black’s,” was all Hudson could respond with. “If you mess this up, then everything is done for.”

“We’ll see about that.”

As if on cue, Lazar, Woods, and Sims pile into the room. “So, what’s the game plan?” Woods inquires, his usual attitude shifting into a more pensive state.

“Priority is the gas and Stitch and his men. It’s up to us to find Bell after that’s taken care of.”

"That's not what I said, Adler," Hudson dictates. All eyes avert to him. "If Bell's considered hostile, then treat them as one."

"This is my team, Hudson, I tell them what I want them to hear. Worry about briefing your own squad." Hudson gives him a hard look before parting. Adler redirects his attention to Sims. "Did you get what I asked?"

His friend nods, plopping down a folder. "Right here." Skimming through the contents, he pulls out an intricate blueprint of the Pines mall, handing it over. "The surveillance cameras were sabotaged just a couple hours before you came back from Berlin, but I managed to restore a couple of them."

Still photos from said film were thrown into the mix of papers, Adler running his fingers down the edges. They had limited lighting, but judging from the context, it was Stitch's henchmen placing canisters around the mall.

No evidence of you.

"Is that all?"

"Just one more. Aerial pics. The canisters seemed to be focused at the middle of the place."

Woods joins in, asking the question Adler had been dying to ask: "Any signs of Bell?"

"One of the security guards reported that a couple of large semi-trucks were seen unloading at the back," Lazar chimes, "There's no camera in the storage area, but I'm guessing that's—"

"Don't worry about Bell. We can find them once we deactivate the bomb."

Lazar trails off as a disgruntled look appears on his face. It was the coldness in Adler's voice that stunned him the most. Considering that you and Adler managed to re-establish a relationship over the past few months was surprising on it's own, and to hear him just brush you off and infer that you were a liability was… shocking. "But—"

"If the bomb goes off, we're done for. And if we're all dead then what's the fucking point?" Adler rubs out the butt of his cigarette. "Eliminate all threats first, then once that's over we can look for [L/N]. That's the best outcome we can achieve."

“So you’re just telling me to ignore the fact that Hudson labeled Bell as an enemy?” Woods

"Black did, not Hudson," Adler corrects. As much as they weren’t seeing eye to eye, there was no reason to hold grudges. They were both in a tight spot, so he had to give some credit to him for sticking through it all. The guy managed to get him to lead the team, and that was all he could have asked for. "Don't heed any attention to it. Bell's going to be fine, so just focus on the mission. That's all I'm going to say on that matter, got it?"

He's met with nods and hushed agreement.

In contrast to his words, Adler felt his gut churn as he listened to himself. It was perfectly within reason to model the mission in such a way, and doing so would ensure the safest route of getting you, and everyone else, alive. He could only place blind trust in you to hold strong on your own while they finish their business. It hurt him enough trying to put the partition in the relationship to avoid clouding his judgement, but he needed everything to work out. For the sake of you and the general public.

With the few hours remaining, he couldn't sleep comfortably leading up to the operation. Adler spent most of the time checking up on equipment, making sure everything was working properly and that nothing was missing. From the attachments down to the amount of bullets in a magazine, he checked it all. How could he rest, knowing the fact that you were out there at the mercy of the enemy?

And he blamed himself for it. He should have brought you along. You were stuck in West Berlin for the majority of the time ever since they found you, and he couldn’t even give you the small opportunity to return to the states. How you were excited to go to Washington, only for him to break the news. The sheer look of disappointment on your face physically hurt. And because of his neglect, you were gone.

“I'm trusting you on this one Adler,” Lazar had told him. “We all are. Probably not the best thing to have on your shoulders, but it's for Bell's sake. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Despite the positive words, it was easy to detect the nervousness and worry wrapped between them. Everyone who came to know you could only suck up their emotional baggage and lock it up as the time to deploy neared.

So when the helicopter landed on the side of the mall, Adler tried his hardest to set his feelings aside. It was all part of this line of work; there was bound to be sacrifices. Losing teammates and friends was a price to pay. He's been doing this for years, and he should be used to it.

He takes a deep inhale before exhaling silently and exiting the vehicle.

The mission is priority.

Adler, Zenya, and Woods lined up against the wall, letting Bulldozer approach the doors with a sledgehammer. They were covered on the other side with metal platings, screwed in tightly with bolts.

“Oh, before we begin,” Woods speaks. All eyes turn towards him, and he makes sure to look at each of them. “I don't care about what Hudson or Black said. If I find any of our fucking bullets inside Bell, I’ll personally hunt you down and end you.”

He receives a disapproving glare from Adler, who shakes his head to himself. He wanted to side with Woods on this one and switch priorities, but it would only cause conflict and additional worries. And he didn’t need that.

He gives Bulldozer the greenlight. “Do it.”

Bulldozer’s efforts left deep dents in the metal platings as they fell. The interior of the premises was dark, leaving only their flashlights and the neon light strips to illuminate the small area around them. A distance away, a periodic beeping repeated itself. There were no Soviets or anyone to greet them upon their entry, leaving them to push further inside.

Families of cables were thrown about like vines, slithering across the floor and crawling upward on the walls. There was no purpose in trying to sort through it, as it all ran towards the same direction.

“Watch your step,” Zenya advises.

They followed the river of wires and rounded the corner of the arcade, passing by the bright and cheerful stores that were untouched by the supposed chaos the mall harbored. With the thick tension in the air, their footsteps echoed, calling out and resonating in their own ears.

“Any movement?”

“Not yet.”

At the center of the mall should have been a large fountain running on its own cycle. Instead they were met with the sight of exposed blue and white tiles, damp with whatever little remains of water. Placed right on top of it was the centerpiece— a collection of blue barrels, rigged with explosives. Compared to the photos they’ve seen earlier, there were way more than originally presented.

"What the hell?"

Focusing the flashlights on them reveal it to be the rumored Nova Six gas. Adler's nose wrinkled at the faint smell that filled his nose. It was the same one that was present back in Rebirth Island during the raid.

"The bastard's manufacturing Nova Six again."

Before he could investigate further, an enthusiastic chime comes from the elevator a few feet away. Upon arriving, the doors pull open automatically, letting the bright lights flood out into the darkness. Adler squints at the contrast as the white illuminates the silhouette of the person inside.

Within a blink, enemies emerge seemingly out of thin air, revealing themselves behind corners and on top of the balconies. A few bright red dots appear on Adler and the team's clothing as all weapons become trained onto their figures.

"Shit…”

Adler's watches the shadow that emerges from the elevator. Stitch was almost unrecognizable from the last time he saw him, but with recent photographs and that identifying scar, there was no doubt that he was the guy that he captured from Rebirth Island.

"Adler," his nemesis greets with a deep timbre.

Adler pulls his arms upwards, redirecting his focus directly at Stitch, gripping the gun handle with the force of a god as the stock digs into his shoulder. “Where are they?!” He ignores Zenya's plea to simmer down, heart pounding against his chest as he faces uncertainty.

Everything was supposed to go smoothly. Take out the hostiles, disengage the bomb, kill or capture Stitch, then find you. Yet there was already a grave miscalculation— There were way more enemies than they estimated. He already knew the second that elevator dinged that the plan was going to be scrapped. All that meticulous planning gone to shit.

"You'll be joining your beloved soon enough once I'm done with you," Stitch replies coldly. There was no time to react as he flags down his troops with a hand signal, closing his fist into the air as all hell breaks loose.

"Fuck, get down!" Woods instructs as he lets a smoke grenade drop to their feet.

The area became hot with gunfire, bullets ricocheting all over the place. Fumes of grey clouds flowed out from the ground, encasing the team as they dived for cover nearby. His earpiece began to fill with information from the rest of the team.

"What's the next step, Adler?" Zenya demands.

What the fuck could they do? Any subtle movement they made was met with a torrent of bullets. His eyes stung as the smoke continued to pour out, trying his best to make out the outlines of the rest of the team nearby. "Jones! Notify the Bravo team to move already!"

"—ETA about ten minutes!"

"What's the hold up?"

"Police barriers are preventing them from getting in."

"Well, tell them we're fuckin’ outgunned!" He needed to make a decision. Adler presses his lips in a thin line, recalling the layout of the mall. "Team, get to the arcade! We'll just have to hold them off until Hudson and the bomb squad arrives!"

All of them attempt to forge a path to the neon faculty. Woods and Bulldozer hid behind planter islands, providing suppressing fire as more and more enemy troops seemed to flood the entire area. As one body dropped another would soon take its place, much to their frustration. The once polished floor, sparkling clean, was now riddled with holes and covered in soot.

Stitch was nowhere to be found, abruptly disappearing the moment smoke filled the area.

Woods lets out a moan as a bullet grazes his shoulder. "Ugh, damn it! They're not letting up any fucking time soon! You'll guys have to go on ahead!"

Adler gives out a huff, looking in the opposite direction. "Zenya, on me!"

She returns a confirming nod.

"...Go!"

They both jump out from their spots, heading towards the fluorescent lights.

"RPG!"

The projectile shoots their way. All four of them scatter, jumping away from their hiding spots and diving for the closest cover. Adler forges ahead despite the danger, letting his legs carry him to the arcade.

Woods groans as he lands in an uncomfortable position, but pushes himself back up and pulls inward, a bullet narrowly missing his arm. The place he was crouched at moments before was now a gaping hole.

"Well, fuck," he grumbles under his breath. There wasn't even a chance to recover, a grenade lands near him.

He jolts up from his spot, running into the closest store and diving behind the counter. The shrapnel belts against the surface around him. "Give me a fucking break…" He peeks around the corner, taking one enemy out as they attempt to reposition closer to him.

Woods takes a brief second to gaze around the store he was in. Majority of the interior was brown, various electronic items and trinkets placed on the shelves and glass display cases. A stray round punctures a hole into one of them, a couple of shards landing on him. His eyes land on a lone door, just right at the corner.

Bulldozer's inconvenienced voice rings in his ear: "Woods! Need some help over here!"

"Hold on!"

He kicks the door open with brute force, and is met with a lone soldier jumping out from behind a collection of boxes. He whips them in the face, knocking them away before putting a couple of shots into their chest. They collide with the ground, a sickening crack coming from underneath them. "Thought you could sneak up on me, huh?"

"...Frank?"

Woods snaps his head towards the owner of the voice, just right inside the inventory space. There, he was met with a stomach churning sight.

You narrowed your eyes at him, only to ease up within the next instant as you flinch at the sting that came with the contortion of facial muscles. Woods' figure was hard to distinguish, just a blob of muted color, leaving the struggle of refocusing the image to your right eye.

"Holy fuck…" He rushes to your side at breakneck speed, undoing the straps that prevented you from collapsing onto the floor. Woods holds out a aiding arm and catches you as you stumble onto your feet. "What'd he do to you?"

"It's just a flesh wound." You take a few breaths, trying to recuperate your stamina. You didn't know how long you were out, but it was the sound of bullets colliding with the walls that struck you back awake, a wave of nausea hitting you. The gunfire didn't cease on your awakening, and Woods' radio continued to buzz with a multitude of chatter. "What's going on?"

"Tell you later, I just need you to pull yourself together. Can you do that?"

You nod. Woods' voice was full of worry and concern, but given the situation, there was no time to loiter around and lie down to wait for a certified medic. There was no rest for anyone, and peace was only granted where there was no onslaught of danger. Your attention is brought to the cart of red-stained instruments, Stitch's knife placed on top. With your good hand you grasp it and slip it into your belt.

Woods kicks the gun on the floor towards your direction, gesturing at it. "Go get the rifle. We're leaving."

"I… I can't."

Woods was about to inquire the reason for your objections, only to note that your left arm was limp at your side. He sends you a sympathetic look and hands you his sidearm instead, loading it up and preparing it for you. As you readied and stabilized your balance, he quickly wraps a roll of bandages tightly around the left side of your face, and you give him a feeble smile of thanks.

"Something tells me you've done this before."

"An old friend of mine— Weaver."

As he mentions the word friend, you think back to the post it note. "Wait. Mason... How's Mason?!"

Woods hurries out the room with you trailing along behind him. Every move felt sluggish, and you were just waiting for the adrenaline kick to come in. "Mason's not here, he's back home, remember?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Enough chit chat, Bell, there's no time. Save your energy and just concentrate on keeping conscious." He introduces you to the warzone just outside the Eighteen clothing outlet, the sound of turmoil and peril ringing in your ears. "Zenya! Sitrep!"

He pauses, listening to whatever is being relayed back.

“Well get to the fucking arcade already! Adler should be there—"

Bullets cascade in your direction, and Woods pushes down on your shoulder to get you under cover and courteously takes them out in your stead. He reloads his gun, giving out a frustrated groan, and you felt a little guilty, knowing that you were going to become a hindrance. You withheld an apology, knowing that he would just condemn your words.

Once done, Woods nudges you, pointing his chin towards the Galaxy-themed walls just right across from the shop. "Both legs are still working, right?"

You bow your head as confirmation. "Adler's at that arcade?"

"We're sitting ducks until Hudson's forces join us, so we can't stay in one place for too long." Woods adjusts his posture. "On my mark."

Taking a peek over the counter, you plot out a path, already coming to a rash decision. “You got my back, right?”

"Wh—"

He didn't even get a chance to countdown or answer as you break into a sprint with a small burst of energy that arose. Pain shot up your leg as your foot first made hard contact with the floor, but it quickly ceased to a burn as you focused on one thing, and one thing only.

"Bell, wait!"

--------

Adler manages his way to the arcade as a couple of soldiers try to prevent his efforts. Inside, he fights off the both of them, sending an array of rounds into their chest. Another tries to sneak up behind him, but he whips around and delivers a jab to their throat, managing to wrangle the rifle away from their hands and ending them with one to the head.

"Bell, wait!" Woods' voice screeched through the earpiece.

"Bell?" Adler repeats. A wave of relief washed over him momentarily, lowering his stance. He reaches up to his ear, about to confirm if he heard correctly, but wasn't given the opportunity to as Stitch sneaks up behind him and puts him into a choke hold.

His feet left the ground for a split second as Stitch tugged at him, arm tensing up and pulling tighter. Adler could feel his breath leaving him as he clawed at the arm around his neck, trying to pry it away. The rest of the squad were elsewhere, taking cover from gunfire while also taking out the enemy.

Spots danced in Adler's vision as his strength started to fade away. His throat was on the verge of being crushed, face changing into a bluish hue.

Right when he was about to give out, he heard the sound of a bullet ripping through flesh, and for a moment Adler thought he was the one that got shot. However, Stitch seemed to grimace at something, giving out a pained and irritated growl as the hold loosened.

Stitch's eyes narrowed towards the direction of the attack. A distance away, just right underneath the open entrance of the game room, a figure stood. Lighting was scarce, but he could make out your form from neon lights as you leaned against the wall with a pistol in hand aimed at them.

"You-"

Stitch wasn't given the opportunity to finish his sentence. Out of bullets, you dropped the gun and charged towards the both of them, tackling him off of Adler. The guy was a unit, but you managed to use your weight to pull it off. Adler collapsed, coughing violently and massaging his neck as you brought Stitch to the floor. He struggled to call out to you as you gave out a warcry.

"Someone just doesn't know how to listen, do they?"

Bringing out the Stitch's knife from your belt, you plunged it downward over his chest, but he holds out a hand, allowing the blade to pierce through it instead. He lets out a pained growl, but uses his other hand to grab a hold of your arm and push against you. Your expression was scrunched up in agony and animosity as your cut hands gripped the handle, opening them even further.

"I ought to put you down like the damn dog you are," Stitch beseeches.

"If I were to die, it wouldn't be through the likes of you."

The tip pierced through his vest. Just a bit more, you told yourself, putting every effort into it. You could see the cloth peeling away as the metal pierced the area. His grip on you was insanely tight as he tried to fight against you, you couldn't feel both your arms anymore. Left arm useless, you used it as a weight to further press against the hilt. Blood rushed to your head, and your ears were ringing. You only focused on the only objective in front of you— Kill Vikhor Kuzmin.

A surge of strength arises with him, and you could feel him regaining some stamina over you. You were already weakened and struggling to keep awake, adrenaline the only thing letting you move freely. Passing out wasn't an option, so you had to do something.

Even so, it wasn’t enough.

Stitch began to fight back, overwhelming you with strength you couldn't muster. He turns your hand towards yourself, the blade pointing at your front. Yet you glared daggers, refusing to back down. You tighten your jaw in the effort to resist, ignoring the burning sensation in the entire upper left side of your body. It was as if someone had laid a fresh bed of lava underneath.

"Bell!" Adler yells. He reaches out to a fallen rifle close by, aiming right down the iron sights and pulling the trigger.

He was met with the sound of continuous clicking as nothing came out from the end. There wasn't even time to think or breathe. Adler throws it to the side in frustration and pushes himself up, only for his vision to become tilted. His ear was ringing thanks to a busted eardrum from the RPG from earlier, and he struggled to maintain proper balance.

"Hudson's crew just arrived! The heli is right outside!" Bulldozer announces in his ear.

“Agh!”

Adler raises his head, only to see Stitch had sunk the knife into your stomach.

"You ought to choose your words carefully," Stitch leers, towering over your body.

"Bell!"

His voice cracked, and something inside Adler snaps. He zooms forward, giving it his all as he plows through, knocking Stitch off of you. The wind gets knocked out of him as they both fall onto the floor. A fist collides with Stitch’s mask, Adler following up with his knee full force into the stomach. He grasps at the ends of the black hoodie, pulling it towards him as he delivers a brutal headbutt.

Basic close combat training Adler learned through the years was thrown out the window. Rules couldn’t hold him back in this encounter, the only way to win would be to fight dirty. It was a boxing match without a referee. And considering what Stitch had just done, there was no point in following basic etiquette.

You could hear Adler’s cries of distress and efforts with each blow he received. Stitch somehow gets the upper hand, delivering a good jab, throwing him into a daze. Your consciousness was slipping away, pain surging from every part of your body if you even dared to move. Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes, knowing that you couldn’t do anything.

Their blurred figures fought mere feet away from you, and you could only play the dying casualty as Adler began to get pummeled, Stitch’s driving bringing his knee to his stomach and causing him to double over and gag. A well-timed hook connects to the right side of his jaw, sending him downward.

Adler!

You cursed yourself, balling your hands into fists. Digging your nails into the carpet, you try to roll onto your side in an effort to crawl, only to be met with excruciating pain. You gave out a whine at the sensation.

Why am I so damn weak?!

Darkness swarmed your vision. Adler was on the ground now, rendered useless. His pathetic attempts to get an advantage, whether it be through grabbing of the clothes or wrists, was easily thwarted as Stitch straddled on top of him and beat the living daylights out of him.

Both of you were going to die here, in some random New Jersey mall, both to the hands of a man you once worked alongside with. His vendetta against the both consisted of nothing but vengeance, and he was about to succeed.

You couldn't do shit. Drugged up, left eye slashed and your left arm broken, this was the worst state to be in. And now had an internal bleeding thanks to the metal serrated ends clawing into your insides. You blink slowly, about to let darkness take the remains of your sight. It was useless. Every effort was spent preventing Stitch from further harming Adler, but even then you couldn't prevail.

This is it.

Giving up wasn't easy, and you thought there would never be a day where you actually threw in the towel. Yet, with everything you have just experienced, and what was happening now, you were definitely dealt the short end of the stick. Perseus was going to win, and one of the biggest thorns that continued to prod at them was about to be wiped off the grid. The Nova Six gas was going to be released to the general public.

No.

Not yet.

You still had something to do. Just one thing left.

If someone were to make it out alive from this mess, it had to be Adler.

After all, you had a job to do.

Brows knit and vision filled with red, you grasped the handle of the knife protruding from your stomach. You grinded your molars together, taking a sharp intake of breath as you proceeded to pull it out.

Pain erupted without hesitation, and it took everything within your mental capacity to keep awake. It was a horrid feeling, and you whimpered with every miniscule movement. You could feel the metal lifting out, and blood began to splurt, staining your shirt. It hurt. Everything did. Death seemed like a great option.

Your mind was warning you, demanding you to stop. You wanted to, but you refused to yield.

If you were going to die, then so be it. You'll even take Death's damn hand if it means that Stitch would be coming along with you.

You held back a cry as the knife came free. It glistened underneath the neon lights of the arcade, stained with your own fresh blood. You took short, little breaths in an attempt to lessen the pain, only to no avail.

With a trembling hand, you flip the blade around, holding it from the tip. It was warm. You couldn't even see your own skin underneath the mass of blood that caked your fingers. Just how much did you lose for the sake of this man?

Not that it mattered. If Adler trusted his life to you, then you'll do whatever it takes to make sure he lived to see another day.

Pulling your arm back, your fingertips pressed against the metal as you readied yourself.

Mustering all remaining strength, you swing full force, chucking the weapon towards the duo's direction.

It cut through the air without a second thought, going into a nice arch.

You could see Stitch look up during the final moments as the knife struck him, embedding itself right in the middle of his forehead.

He didn't make a noise as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Time seemed to slow down as you watched the Russian fall onto his back, not even groaning as he collapsed.

It's over.

You let out a difficult exhale after holding your breath for so long, and set your head back down, staring up at the ceiling. Your arms fall to the side, eagle spread.

The lights of the arcade machines flickered and bounced around without a care in the world. Beeping and 16-bit noises played along in an attempt to veil the sounds of warfare just outside the doorway. There was a soothing vaporwave-like rhythm, luring you into a sense of numbness and peace.

The purplish blue was a nice shade, and it made you drowsy. A wave of tranquility washed over you as you watched the light show, and with each blink you took, your eyelids felt heavier and heavier. Sleep was calling out to you.

How many near-death experiences did you have? Trabzon Airport, Cuba, Solovetsky, the cliffside… The list went on.

Adler heaved violently nearby, using the back of his hand to wipe away the crimson that ran down his nose. The effort was useless, as more of it continued to streak downward over his lips and chin. It had taken a moment for him to register that Stitch ceased all movement, lying uselessly with arms splayed out. Horror-struck, his expression held itself frozen as his own knife stuck out from his forehead.

Bell.

Adler’s arms shook as he held himself up into a crawling position. He saw you lying there with a pool of red that was about to expand underneath you. He pushes himself to you with his elbows, holding out a hand to you. “[L/N]!” his voice quivers.

He was calling you.

Turning your head, you see Adler struggle to make his way over to you. You manage a shaky smile as he enters your view.

“Is that you, Russ?” you gurgle weakly, squinting trying to focus. The metallic taste in your mouth only seemed to strengthen, lathering your taste buds.

“Don’t talk!” His eyes darted from place to place trying to figure out where he should prioritize first aid, but his thoughts were racing and he couldn't concentrate, head rolling from the thorough beating Stitch had given him. "Shit, I–"

“Ah, it is." You gave him a soft smile. Albeit your altered vision, Adler's face managed to detail itself. The hat he had on previously lied on the floor a couple paces away, his hair instead ruffled and a mess. "I couldn’t recognize you. Stitch really did a number on you… And me."

The mere sight of you made Adler's stomach drop. A mix of black and red resided where your left eye should have been, covered with soiled bandages that felt like it didn't do much to help. You had several bruises as well, cuts decorating your skin. Old scars that you had were now covered with new wounds. Your shirt had dark stains on it as it clung to your body.

Adler's hands went towards your stomach, applying pressure and you winced underneath him. “You’re going to be okay Bell."

You try to laugh at his attempt to comfort you, only to choke up some blood. "C'mon, be truthful. How do I look?"

He couldn't respond, and with one hand he reached behind, shoving his hands forcibly underneath the covers of his satchel, trying to look for any medical supplies.

"I told Vikhor that… if he even touched you.. I'd kill him." Your eyes lingered on his. "C'mon don't make that face. Aren't you proud of me?"

He looked pitiful. Adler was biting the insides of his cheeks, just trying to keep himself together amongst this hell hole he was thrown into. But he couldn't hide it. He wasn't fucking proud— he was broken. Whether it was the mere image of your mutilated body, or the thought that you practically sacrificed yourself for him, he knew that he was the reason you did the shit you just did.

Adler didn't ask you to do it. So why, why, why, did you commit to such a selfless act? That valor he admired now became the reason for your recklessness and gave you reason to act so blindly. Why were you so fucking loyal? A month without your presence nearby and the first thing he sees upon contact was you bleeding out in front of him. It was like God, or whatever higher being up there, was testing his integrity of how much shit he can take before breaking.

The instant he felt his fingers rub against something inside his pack, he pulled the object out.

A flare.

No. No. Nonono—

Where was his medkit?

You placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of his eye. The gesture stings as he feels your finger brush against his puffed and bruised skin. He sees you shake your head slightly at the effort of his search for treatment, and his own heart just drops.

Stop.

Don't look at me like that. Why are you shaking your head?

"You need to leave me."

Don't say that! he yells internally. Adler feels his chest constrict at the thought he conjured up.

He gives out a shaky breath as he places his own hand over yours, ignoring the blood smearing against his scar. "Bell, I'm not going to leave you," he says slowly, trying to control his emotions. "We're getting out together."

"'Crying doesn't suit you',” you reiterate to him, but at that point you couldn't even interpret his own face out. Your eyes were half lidded, beginning to lose its shine as they trailed away from his face to focus on something above him. Terrified, Adler cups your cheek and makes you look back at him.

"Stay with me, [L/N]."

"I think… I need a rain check on that date of ours."

This wasn't happening.

Fuck, fuck!

“Of course. I'll take you wherever you want. Just… Just stay awake until we get to the hospital?” Adler clammers, clutching your hand tighter. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah. I'll try."

"You can sleep when we get th—"

"Mhm..."

No.

"Bell?"

Your eyes were closed, and despite everything you must have gone through, you gave off a serene expression, the corners of your mouth upturned slightly.

Adler feels your hand become heavy, losing its strength. He wasn't ready for this.

"Bell?" his voice cracks. "No, you can't— You can't fucking die on me Bell!"

He expected you to flinch at his tone, like you used to, but didn't budge. His heart dropped, desperation clawing at him. If there was one thing he feared the most, it was this.

What the fuck am I doing?

"Come on, c'mon…"

Adler swears profusely as he unbuckles his equipment in a rush, letting the orange scarf around his neck free. He rips it off and bundles it, pressing the mass against your stomach. You didn't even grimace. The bright orange turned dark as it absorbed whatever substance it could.

"Ossou!" Adler screams into his earpiece. "Where's the fucking medic?!"

They had to get you out. Away from the mall, into the hospital. They'll treat you there. You can get a blood transfusion. Fucking take his own blood if they had to— just ANYTHING to keep you alive.

There was still time...

Right?

#wow bell you really pulled a soap huh #i would have written the knife going to stitch's eye but then there's too much eye shit as is so that was just pushing it #call of duty x reader #russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #bo:cw #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #fanfic #bell #russell adler #abcd briefing #anyways this chapter took so fucking long to finish cause uhh yeah so much crap happened #text

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pokemonswshfics · 3 years

Text

hi! ofc anon, thank you for waiting so patiently <3 i hope i got these correct, have a good read everyone! ^-^ 💕

Milo/Gordie/Raihan × Reader || Angst/Fluff Headcanons (Sfw)

tw !! ptsd is mentioned in this post, please do not read if it can negatively affect you! take care! <3

headcanons under the cut!:)

Milo (Sfw)

He found out about your PTSD the hard way.

Milo had a meet scheduled outside his gym, which you would be attending in secret by wearing very casual clothing, and overall making it difficult to identify you.

You regretted going almost instantly.

Left and right, Milo had fans bombarding him with requests for photos or autographs, or both.

Each time you heard a request for photo or autograph, your heart seemed to pound faster.

Milo was calm throughout it, which only seemed to make it worse for you.

Once he noticed you were practically on the verge of tears, he stopped the greet and told fans he had a personal emergency.

After getting away from the meet, he demands to know what's wrong.

Although your hesitant to tell him, Milo's patience never faltered.

"Buttercup, tell me. You're safe now and you know I would never judge you."

After explaining how much you dislike meets, explaining the issues of certain incidents, he would be nothing but supportive.

Immediate reassurance that your emotions are valid.

"Hey.. You're okay now, alright? That fan won't get anywhere near you while I'm around. It's completely normal to feel this way."

"You don't have to attend my meets either, Buttercup. Really! Do you wanna go home now? We can have some us time, away from fans. I wanna make sure you're okay."

"And I know I'm just.. Milo but.. I'd do anything to keep you safe. Both physically and mentally. I love you, you being okay will always be my priority. Okay, flower?"

Gordie (Sfw) {mild cursing}

Gordie found out after he noticed you getting extremely nervous while he got ready to meet fans.

"You aren't excited, doll? What's up?"

When you insisted nothing was wrong, he stopped getting ready and was concerned at your state. Shaky, heavy breathing, overall dread at the thought of a crowd of fans.

"Listen to me, I know you. I can see there's something wrong. You can talk to me, anything you tell me now, it stays between us."

He stops what he's doing in the process of getting ready, and gives you his full attention while you explain yourself.

"Does that fan still bother you? I just wanna talk, doll. Promise."

"No but seriously, do they? No? Alright, well.."

Gordie would make sure to pull you close in his arms, his hugs are some of the best feelings. Nothing but warmth, love, and safety.

"You're okay, you don't have to go to my meets, you know.. I'll be fine without you there. I'm better off knowing you're here at home, okay, than with me, bothered."

"And I don't mean for that to sound wrong at all. I genuinely mean it when I say I want you to be okay."

If that moment in particular is bad, he calls into his management/gym to tell them he'll be late.

Kisses any tears away, prefers to have you in his lap while he calms you down.

"Let it all out, doll. I'm right here, I won't go anywhere until you're fine. Don't be ashamed of having feelings like these."

"I have to go soon, I love you, okay? But I promise, you're okay and you're safe. When I get back, I'm gonna love the shit out of you!" "G-Gordie-!"

Raihan (Sfw)

He would see your trigger happen firsthand.

You'd get recognized in public, disguise on and all, and get crowded around.

"Champion, look over here! Please, we want a photo with you!" "N-No, I'm sorry, I d-don't do photos." You'd already be on the verge of tears at the sound of a first request for photos or an autograph.

"Just one. Please? Come on, we aren't gonna do anything weird with your photos or autographs-"

Raihan would cut in, harshly. He doesn't show his mean side, but when he does..

It's sure as hell noticeable.

Depending on your fans sizes, he can usually tower over them and glare with ease.

"Are you hard of hearing or something? They said no, get out of here."

"One picture wouldn't hurt-"

"Do you wanna know what hurt is?" Raihan's threats would only increase, he'd most likely get physical.

"Raihan, please let's go. It's only giving them more attention!", You'd say, obviously distressed at both what had happened, and slightly at Raihan's actions.

When he sees, he immediately stops and begins to walk away with you from the fans, ignoring them.

Right after he tells the fan he had an altercation with that they "Got lucky."

If you're upset at him for making the scene a tad bit worse, he respects it and gives you space while you're walking together.

"Babe? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made a bigger scene.. They just wouldn't leave you alone. I wasn't just gonna stand aside.." "You should have."

If you snap at him, he doesn't get upset. Instead, he only gets soft.

"Hey. Stop walking for a second. C'mere."

Raihan would pull you into a tight hug, listening to you quietly cry.

"Why do you get like this with crowds, if I can ask?"

Raihan would then lead you to a quiet place to sit, most likely a secluded bench depending on where you two are.

He would listen while holding your hand, stroking it with his thumb.

Everytime your sobs or soft cries would escape you, he'd hold your hand tighter and wait patiently for you to collect yourself.

"First of all, come here again. You wanna go somewhere more private? We can, if you want to.", Raihan would whisper into your shoulder after he brings you in for a second hug.

If you try and push off his comfort and excuse your feelings as something that doesn't matter, his reassurance doesn't stop.

"If it doesn't matter, here's what does. You. Your health matters, okay, baby?" Raihan would pepper kisses on your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumb. "I just wish you had told me sooner about this.. I promise fans won't get near you now, alright?"

And he means it, instead of taking you to meets, he usually texts you during them.

"Hey, babe! Miss you lots, I hope you're doing good back home. Love you, see you later! ❤"

The message would always come with a signature selfie.

***

thank you so much for reading! have a good day/night ^-^ !! requests are always open, just might be a wait 💕 - 🥝

#pokemon #pokemon shield #gym leaders #pokemon gym leader #pokemon swsh #headcanons #pokemon headcanons #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon raihan #raihan headcanons #raihan x reader #raihan swsh #pokemon milo #milo pokemon #milo x reader #pokemon sword milo #milo swsh

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animemangasoul · 3 years

Text

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

[In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.]

Chapter: 5/10

He'd just finished eating and finally found the strength to open the very first box of many; fishing a familiar river stone from its depth when the door was once again being knocked.

Obi-Wan didn't have to open it to know exactly who was waiting for him on the other side, and the good mood he'd amassed from Master Billaba's visit drained away with each step he took towards the door. Instead being replaced by absolute dread. As the door slid open, Obi-Wan came face to face with his former Master and his heart sank.

"Master Qu--- Jinn," he said, mental shields slamming back down and emotions washing off his face. Show nothing, be nothing, don't let him hurt you anymore. "What brings you here?"

A flash of something flickered through his former Master's eyes, but it was gone too quickly for Obi-Wan to decipher. "Obi-Wan," Master Qui-Gon smiled; voice holding that gentle tone that had always carried his Padawan through their worst times. "May I come in?"

All Obi-Wan could do was step aside and let the man who'd crushed his soul walk past him and into his new home.

"Thank you, dear one," Master Qui-Gon whispered to him, hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder before making a beeline for the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. Appearing to be familiar enough with Master Windu's kitchen to go through his cabinets with expertise. "I trust you have eaten?"

Obi-Wan stared at his back, not quite able to wrap his head around what was going on.

Was his Mast---- Former Master really acting as if nothing had changed between them? Like he could just walk back into Obi-Wan's life and Obi-Wan would just let him back in?

'Haven't you already done that,' his inner voice mocked him. Gritting his teeth; faintly worried how the repeat action might have negative side effect on his molars, Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "What are you doing here, Master Jinn?"

Some of the frost he was feeling most have coated his tone, for Master Qui-Gon stiffened ever so slightly before turning around and meeting his eyes, Obi-Wan refused to look away. Not this time. "Well?"

Raising a single eyebrow, his former Master gave him a disapproving look, clearly displeased with his lack of respect. "Young Anakin encouraged me to come see you and I was inclined to follow his advice." Eyes softening significantly, Master Qui-Gon's lips stretched into a tentative smile. "I'm so relieved to see you well, Obi-Wan, you are…." And on and on he went, but whatever he was saying, Obi-Wan couldn't hear it anymore. Not after……

Anakin had told Qui-Gon to visit him.

Anakin had been…. He wouldn't have come without Anakin telling him to.

He…..

Why was he surprised?

Why did the very thought of this knowledge still manage to bruise his heart?

Qui-Gon had only come because of Anakin.

Of course he'd only come because of Anakin.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon sounded uncertain, clearly having trailed off as soon as he'd noticed his audience wasn't listening to him anymore. "Are you okay, dear one?"

Fingers digging into the river stone plastered to his palm, Obi-Wan tried desperately not to let his emotions leak out and expose him. "I'm fine, Master Jinn," he whispered hoarsely. "And now that you know, you can kindly leave."

His former Master's eyes narrowed, and it was all the auburn haired man could do not to shrink in on himself like usual. 'He's not the master of you,' he told himself; staring back at Qui-Gon evenly. 'Not anymore.' And oh if that fact still didn't hurt unbelievably so.

"I came to check up on you Padawan." The older said, pain flashing through his eyes. "I would appreciate your manners not leaping out the window as soon as you've left my care."

"Left your----" Obi-Wan took a deep breath. 'Don't, he hissed at himself. 'Master Qui-Gon is still a Master, don't lose it.' "I'm sorry Master Jinn," he forced out instead. "All I was trying to say is that I'm well and there is nothing for you to worry about anymore. I have healed."

Now Qui-Gon's concern was practically painted across his face, any previous annoyance at his disrespect forgotten. Clear and obvious worry danced through his gaze even as his force presence revealed nothing. "You should have never healed me like you did," he said finally, reproach hidden even beneath the concern. "You were once again reckless with your life." His voice broke (in anger, in concern?) and he quickly looked away.

Obi-Wan stared, and stared. "You," he said, pointing a shaky finger at his Master--- former Master. "You don't get to scold me for saving you," he said, bottom lip quivering. "You don't get to do that. Not anymore."

"Obi-Wan--" and there he went again, with that tone. That love, Obi-Wan couldn't deal with it. He shouldn't have to deal with it. Not when it hurt so much.

"Stop," he hissed. "Just stop. Please."

And there it was, the same agony reflected back at him through Master Qui-Gon's eyes.

They knew each other so well and yet, not well enough.

The whistle of the boiling water served as a break in their conversation, and as Qui-Gon turned away from him to prepare the tea, Obi-Wan allowed himself a brief moment to just breathe and center himself.

'Leave,' he thought desperately, finger digging into the stone. 'Please leave.'

But Qui-Gon didn't leave. And soon enough he was serving them both a cup and waving for Obi-Wan to take a seat across from him.

"I hear Mace has chosen to take you on as his Padawan learner--" his former Master started off their conversation, blowing gently at his tea before taking a sip. "That is a….. Surprise." There was a lilt of humour in his voice, almost as if he couldn't quite believe Obi-Wan had been chosen or as if he was trying to lighten the otherwise heavy mood in his usual way of making Obi-Wan smile, the auburn heard man was inclined to believe the former. After all, the gentle Master that made his priority to make him laugh and smile would have never repudiated him.

So he knew, Master Qui-Gon was finding humour with this revelation. Being surprised that Obi-Wan had even registered on Master Windu's radar. After all, if Obi-Wan couldn't make it as Master Qui-Gon's Padawan, what hope did he have to make it as the Master of the Order's Padawan?

A boiling anger suddenly and violently burst through his veins.

After what Master Qui--- Jinn had done to him. After publicly humiliating him, how dare he act as if Obi-Wan wasn't even worth the time of another Master. How could he act as if Obi-Wan's desperation, his fears were nothing more than amusement.

Did getting the chance to train the Chosen One steal any remaining sympathy the man might have had for him.

"I guess we have both upgraded our partnerships then," he therefore hissed back, not mincing his words in the slightest. "You with your Chosen One and I, with the Master of the Order. I suppose we both came out on the other side, victors in our own way."

This time Qui-Gon's hurt was palpable. The way he recoiled away from him practically telegraphing his pain and for a vicious second, Obi-Wan basked in it. Savored it because why should he be the only one to suffer from daggered words? Why should he be subjected to Qui-Gon's cruelty without once throwing a fist. But just as soon as the vindication flared up it was just as quickly consumed by guilt and Obi-Wan remorsefully released his negative emotions into the force, face flushed in embarrassment and horror. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "That was uncalled for…. I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon only nodded back, his eyes distant and his face just a little too pale. It only served to make Obi-Wan feel even more guilty.

A guilt that was replaced with uncertainty at his former Master's next question.

"It isn't yet official, is it?" he asked him quietly, fingers curled around his cup. "Mace hasn't declared you his Padawan in front of the council yet, has he?"

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. "No." He said, wanting to desperately change the topic. Old feelings of insecurity bubbling up. "Not yet. But Master Billaba has told me that Master Windu will do---"

"Then it isn't too late!"

The relief that slammed into Obi-Wan through the force nearly blew him out of his chair.

He gasped. "What?"

Master Qui-Gon's force signature was practically blazing in ill concealed excitement now. All barbed words forgotten for now. "It isn't official, which means it isn't too late." His former Master whispered, smile so painfully sincere it hurt. "I can still fix this, dear one."

"Fix it? Fix what?" Master Qui-Gon wasn't seriously talking about taking him back was he? He wasn't about to kick Anakin to the curb and take him back….was he?

Obi-Wan could imagine the sheer devastation the poor kid would go through if that happened, even as he secretly, guilty wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

"You can turn Mace down."

"Why?" Obi-Wan's hands were shaking now. "To go live in the Initiate dorms?"

As Master Qui-Goon shook his head, real, attainable hope started to blossom in Obi-Wan's chest. "Then what?"

"You can come live with us. Me and Ani until Master Yan comes back."

"……"

What?

"I've already formulated a plan to convince him to take you as his Padawan."

Wait… no. Wait.

"And he will officially be your Master and---

Wait!

"He doesn't even know me---" Obi-Wan cried out, horror striking down whatever hope that had traitorously clawed its way up his throat. "I don't know him!"

His former Master smiled, hope flaring in his eyes. "I'm counting on it, dear one."

What?

"He just needs to accept you as his Padawan as a favor to me, then you can live with us permanently and I can continue to train you alongside, Ani. It'll be like as if nothing's changed."

No.

He couldn't be……

'No, oh force no. Master Qui-Gon how could you ever think….'

Obi-Wan stumbled out of his chair, distantly registering his tea cup falling out of his hand, shattering on impact. Hot liquid spilling on his bare feet.

"I'm going to be sick," he whispered, hands coming up to cover his eyes. "Force I'm---"

"No, Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, listen to me. Please."

He shook his head frantically, backing away, hitting the corner of the chair, falling down with a thud. "I'm going to be sick."

This couldn't be happening.

After everything they'd been through. After everything they'd suffered through together. Master Qui-Gon couldn't….. How could he say this to his face.

What did he expect him to feel. Grateful? Happy?

'You're trying to force me on my Grandmaster,' he wanted to scream, even as his words died in his throat and his tongue felt three sizes too big. 'You're going to pawn me off and keep me around to make yourself feel better!'

Why, why why why?

"Obi-Wan?" A gentle touch to his elbow.

"Don't," he hissed, slapping him away, eyes blinking furiously to hold back the onslaught of tears. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"You need to calm down, Obi---"

"Don't touch me!" He screamed, chest heaving as he tried and failed to take in a deep breath. Black spots dancing across his vision. "Stay away from me. Stay away from me!"

He couldn’t see him anymore. Couldn't hear him. It was as if someone had stuffed cotton balls inside his ears and now all Obi-Wan could hear was the echoing sound of his own panic.

Why was he panicking? What was happening? Why couldn’t he breathe?

And suddenly, there was Maul. Yellow eyes and vengeful spirit. Suddenly he wasn't here anymore, he was there. Crouching over his dying Master, ignoring his own fatal wound as he begged the force to help him save the one man who'd saved him.

He was there, driving his blade through Maul's neck, watching as the Sith fell and fell and fell and wondering if he'd soon join him in the force.

And it burned.

"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, can you hear me!"

'I can't breathe,' he thought, tears springing in his eyes. 'Please, someone, anyone. I can't breathe.'

And he was there.

As if called up by his desperation, Master Windu was there. In his mind, filling up every corner with his presence. Tugging at their fledgling bond that Obi-Wan hadn't even known was there, let alone how it formed. 'I'm coming,' the worry said. 'You're not alone. I'm coming for you Obi-Wan.'

And as he slowly drifted away, he was distinctly aware of two hands curling around him and bringing him close. Pulling him to their chest in comfort. "Master Mace," he wheezed." "Master."

It felt like coming home.

"Qui-Gon, what have you done!"

Obi-Wan breathed out, and then, he knew nothing.

The End

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars prequels #qui gon a+ parenting #mace windu #mace windu fanfic #obi wan fanfic #padawan obi wan #fanfic #second chapter #yawowh chapter 5 #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Burden (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Anon asked: “yo so for some Todoroki angst, what about his gf breaking up with him because Endeavor had told her to because he didn't want her to get in the way of Todoroki's "purpose" (she does tell him this) which leads to a very depressed Todoroki left wondering what he did wrong and desperately trying to get her back? Could end happily if you want, up to u"

Genre: Angst to fluff

(Submission 2/3 of Todoroki angst from my post a few days ago)

Word count: 1,993

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: Legit I’m so tired I almost fell asleep in the middle of writing this, but I wanted to get this out for you guys before the night ended, so I banged it out. It’s not as intense as Name and it ends happily so I hope you guys enjoy and are left with some fuzzy feelings at the end :3

I wrote this kind of gender neutral soooo yeah, read it as you want to! Thanks again for the submission anon! I appreciate you!

It hurts to break Todo’s heart. He��s baby, I just love him so much I wanna protect him :(

Also question, do you guys care if there’s a pic at the top of every post or nah?

From the moment Aizawa told me Endeavor wanted to speak to me, I knew something would go utterly wrong.

"I want you out of my son's life," he ordered bluntly. "I have big plans for Shouto to become the top hero one day, he doesn't need to be sidetracked by high school romance."

Todoroki had warned me how pushy and controlling his father was, which is why he always kept our relationship somewhat secretive. I don't even know where or when his father saw us together. It's shocking, but I can't say I'm totally surprised he's saying it.

"Sir, with all due respect," I'm trying to be polite, but I want to give the man a piece of my mind after all the things Shouto's told me, "Shouto wouldn't appreciate you getting involved in his personal life. This was a decision he made without you, and I'd say he's happy with it."

Endeavor rolls his eyes and rests his hands on his desk. "Shouto doesn't know what's good for him. Besides, I'm sure he only agreed to be in a relationship with you just to rebel against me. He holds no true feelings for you."

I gape at his statement. Is he for real? "I don't know how you could possibly know that, I don't think Todoroki said anything to you about me or his feelings."

The man's turquoise eyes scan me uncomfortably. "I remember your performance from the Sports Festival. You barely even made it past the obstacle course round, and the only reason you advanced to the finals was because you happened to be on a winning team. You even lost your first battle. Your quirk and your abilities are nothing special."

I clench my fists, rage coursing through my blood. "Excuse me-"

"Which is why a weakling like you wouldn't be a good match for my son," he continues. "Think about it. My son's power is immense, he can stand on his own in a match. You probably need support from someone else. He'll eventually grow tired of you and he'll toss you aside for someone on the same level as him." Endeavor glances at the clock on his desk. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting planned." He rises from his chair and strolls out of the room. "Give it some thought and I'm sure you'll make the right choice."

I'm left in the middle of his office, shaking and seeing red with rage. I want to punch and scream in his face. I don't care if he's some big-shot pro hero, he can takes his words and shove it where the Sun doesn't shine. How can he talk that way to people so easily? Exasperated (and afraid I'll break something if I stay), I huff out of the room and back to the dorms, mumbling and cursing to myself about all the things I'd like to do to Todoroki's father.

And I hate to admit it, but what he said really gets to me. My quirk isn't a strong, elemental type like Shouto's. All I can do is heat things I touch until they melt or burn, including human skin. I couldn't do much in the Sports Festival except block my opponents by melting the ground beneath them or throwing flaming objects at them. I've always had a love-hate relationship with my quirk because it was always too destructive or too weak to be a hero's quirk, but I've always tried to use it in offensive ways to help me fight.

As I get off the train, I sigh, Endeavor's words swimming in my mind. I hate that he might actually be right. I'm pretty useless. I can't help Shouto improve himself when he has to worry about constantly building me up and supporting me. I'd just be a burden to him.

It breaks my heart to know that I'm actually considering going through with this. Damn it, I can't believe I let Endeavor win.

I trudge into the common room of the dorms. Everyone's watching TV, eating, or reading. Shouto turns around from his position near the wall, just observing everyone. As soon as he sees me, his blank face softens into a smile, making my heart sink. I hate to break his heart, but it's for the best.

"Hey, where were you? I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't come back before curfew." His eyes melt right into mine, displaying nothing but warmth.

My stomach churns. Aizawa had told me privately, so Todoroki doesn't know I just faced his father. "My parents needed me to go grocery shopping for them. They're both out of town, so they didn't get to go before they left." I bite my lip, dreading what's going to come next. "Can we...talk outside?"

The fondness stiffens into anxiety and I see his Adam's apple move as he gulps. "Okay."

Once we're outside, it gets more difficult for me to look him in the eyes because I'm afraid I'll cry, and I have to be the strong one. I take a deep breath to calm myself, feeling his eyes on me. Just rip it off like a band-aid. "I think we should break up."

At first I thought I'd said it too quickly for him to understand, but the way his face falls confirms he heard just fine. I feel like I've just kicked the most precious puppy in the world, I want to cry in his arms and confess everything that just happened, but I can't.

The confusion and despair mixes in his eyes as he stares at he ground, his eyes flickering back and forth. "Did I do something wrong? Please tell me, I'll fix it."

My throat threatens to close up, but I swallow hard. "It's nothing you did, Shouto. I just think we might've rushed into this. We let our feelings get in the way of why we're really here, and it wasn't to get into relationships." I muster up the courage to stare at him with a hardened look. "We should focus on our real priorities from now on. I'm sorry."

Shouto's crestfallen expression kept falling with every word I said and I can't take anymore. I calmly walk back inside the dorm and head upstairs to my room, about to explode into tears and I can't let anyone see it. As soon as I shut the door, I break into sobs and collapse onto my knees. The memory of his face right before I left remains behind my eyelids. I hate possibly seeing him cry or get angry. For both of our sake, I'm praying that he gets over it quickly. We only dated for a few months, he should get over it fairly quickly.

He didn't get over it.

Even after almost a week, Shouto never failed to get through a day without boring holes in the back of my head. He seemed so lost without me even when he's surrounded by his friends. It got to the point where I decided to start having my lunch in an empty classroom because I would feel like breaking down whenever I meet his heartbroken stare.

There were even a few times where he would come up to me in the halls while I stopped to talk to someone and tried to talk to me, but I had to politely smile and tell him I was busy with the person I was with and then walk away.

It hurts. It just hurts so much.

But if it means we can both benefit and get stronger without me burdening him, I have to stand my ground. I started throwing myself into intense training alone. I'm trying to focus my quirk on emitting heat to things so I don't have to touch them, but I'm not getting anywhere fast with it.

After a few days of frustrating myself, Shouto suddenly bangs the door open in the middle of my training. At first I want to politely ask him to leave, but the anger burning in his eyes stops me as he marches to stand right in front of me. I feel terribly small in his presence, I don't even want to meet his eyes. "What-"

"Why didn't you tell me my father asked to see you?" he asks, his voice dangerously low, like a time bomb waiting to explode.

I feel my face lose all color. How did he find out? "Who-?"

"Uraraka told me," he answers before I can finish, fists clenching at his sides. "I had a hunch there was something wrong. What did he tell you?"

I'm torn between answering and keeping my mouth shut, incapable of even looking him in the eyes for fear I might fall apart right here. "N-Nothing," I manage feebly.

"Tell me," the edge in his voice growing. The room gets hotter and colder at the same time as Shouto's quirk starts releasing out of his control.

I scrunch my eyes shut to hold back tears. "H-He told me you didn't actually have feelings for me and that you're only dating me to rebel against him," I sniff, "And then he said I'm too weak for you, that I'm nothing special, and you'll eventually get tired of me because I can't hold my own in a battle and you'd rather be with someone with the same ability level as you." The hot tears finally escape my eyes and run down my face. "And he's right, isn't he? I'm just a burden to you. I'm probably better suited to be someone's sidekick than a hero. I'm nowhere near the same level as you."

I reach up to wipe my face of my stupid tears when Shouto steps closer and gently wipes them away with his thumbs. His hands remain there, holding my head between his hands, the familiar gesture making me choke out a sob. Anger had melted away into understanding and sympathy. "I don't care about the strength of your quirk or how useful you are in battle. I care about you, as the person I love. And I'd never get tired of you."

He plants a soft kiss on my forehead and I collapse into his chest, my arms wrapping around him and gripping the back of his shirt as I let everything out. His comforting fresh scent calms me down as he pats my back.

"I'm sorry, Shouto," my sobs muffle into his clothes, "I let him get to me. I was too weak to tell you anything and I thought you wouldn't want me anymore. I'm sorry I put you through this."

The boy buries another kiss in my hair. "I knew you wouldn't think of this on your own, love. You know how much I care about you."

"I know," I sniff again separating from him and wiping my face, "I was stupid. I made both of us suffer for no reason."

Shouto cradles my cheek with his left hand and I lean into his warm, holding onto his wrist. "Can we get back together then? I miss you a lot." Those mismatched eyes hold more love in them than I can even fathom. They choke me up so much I can only nod.

His icy hand pulls me in by my waist before sealing our lips together in a sweet reunion kiss. We move against each other, familiar feelings burst out of us to express exactly how much we missed out on each other in the past couple weeks.

Shouto pulls away just far enough to keep our foreheads still pressed together. "If my father ever tries to meet you again, you're taking me with you. I'm not letting him disrespect you like that. He needs to know his place."

"Okay. don't get so worked up," I kiss his nose, to which he blushes and I giggle. "Now can you help me with my training now? I need to catch up with you."

#todoroki x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki angst #angst to fluff #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #anon #request #ask

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