#agh. i need to make a post. someone send me an ask about this and ill reply in about 10 hours give or take. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trainerbede · 12 days

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HOPE PLEASE TALK ABOUT P5R I need to know how you feel about akechi at the end yudkdkfk and I'd also just love to hear your thoughts about the game and the characters in general! also, just to make sure, do you know what you need to do to unlock the extra content at the end of the game? otherwise you might miss it.

WAIT WAIT I was answering your other ask and I never saw this one. what. tumblr straight up did not send me an ask notification 😭

CELE AND I DID ACTUALLY FINISH P5R A FEW WEEKS AGO AND I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS, we unlocked all the extra content too, so no worries. somehow on a first try we managed to do most things: every Mementos request, all of the confidants with some free time to spare, and about 80% of the compendium. it'll be hard to put all my thoughts in one post but I'll try and just touch on the main parts!

first of all. Akechi. lmao. I definitely went in expecting to like him, since I've had a lot of mutuals who were very big into shuake from the time I've been into saiou and v3 (I guess they're ship-in-laws of a sort). I wasn't disappointed, because I did like Akechi quite a lot by the end, but I was a bit surprised that he didn't quite give me brainworms the way I expected him to.

if I had to give a character ranking, I think Sumire would be my top fave, followed by Maruki, and then Yusuke. Akechi probably comes right after him, and then I have a harder time ranking the rest (it's probably either Ann or Haru though).

I'm really, really glad we played Royal bc I cannot imagine only playing the original and being satisfied with that. especially when the Shido parts were so frustrating and had some of the weaker writing compared to the rest of the game. the 3rd semester was just such a better way to wrap things up and did a world of good for Akechi's character and fleshing him out a bit.

I really do find the relationship between Akechi and the MC so interesting. like, while I don't think Akechi will ever be quite as high up on my list of characters the way someone like Ouma is, I do think he shines best when it's as a foil for the protagonist. all of that resentment and feeling like things could have been so different if only he'd had the same opportunities or friendships, the whole "two sides of the same coin" thing, I LOVE that sort of thing in my ships. I also really wound up attached to the idea of the royal trio as an ot3 where Sumire and Akechi both just share the MC most of the time, lmao.

everything with the 3rd semester bad ending... I love it so much, those kind of "ideal worlds where something is actually very off and unsatisfying" is right up my alley. I kind of wish the game had gone even further with making the rest of the phantom thieves resist leaving Maruki's world and even getting mad at being told to doubt their own happiness, which was something they apparently touched on in some of the discarded voice files, but then they sadly cut them out and everyone came around pretty easily :(

the main reason I put Yusuke in my top 3 earlier I think is bc he actually gave me more of what I was initially looking for in Akechi's relationship with Shido, but with Madarame instead. I really was expecting the game to touch a lot more on Shido manipulating Akechi or essentially forcing him to become an assassin, you know, really focusing on the whole "kids trapped in their role in society by rotten adults" theme that is so crucial in the game, but there really wasn't... much of that? Shido didn't even know Akechi was his son (other than maybe some suspicions according to his cognitive self, but those didn't ever amount to anything so it's kind of the same) so he barely ever interacted with him outside of an employer-employee context. and Akechi was the one to actually approach him with the idea of murdering people in the Metaverse, so it's like... fkskjdjs agh, everything with Shido just really does frustrate me, I feel like he's got such weak writing but he's also impossible to ignore bc he's such an important part of the game.

meanwhile Yusuke and Madarame's relationship was such a more believably complex picture of abuse and manipulation (it reminded me a lot of Bede and Rose from swsh, lmao). I was actually really shocked at how well everything about the Madarame arc aged; usually Persona games have a few parts of them that don't age well at all, but it was totally the opposite here.

I had kind of gone through the early parts of the game back when it first came out without finishing the whole thing, but I remember thinking at the time that the whole Madarame plagiarism thing felt heavy-handed and too on-the-nose. now, living in an era where topics like art theft and plagiarism and art as nothing more than a soulless means of spitting out money is more relevant than it was 7 years ago... yeah, the Madarame arc just felt surprisingly relevant overall, and Yusuke's conflicting feelings of love and obligation vs. his growing awareness that he's being taken advantage of and seen as a tool was just the icing on top. also his autistic swag. I love him.

as for Sumire and Maruki—the game is so much better for them being in it. Sumire has one of the strongest arcs in any of the 3 "modern" Persona games, not just in 5. I'm usually a firm advocate for "girl they added in the remake game" supremacy (Marie p4g got done so dirty by the fandom and I'll never forgive people, she's a good character), so I was so, so happy that Sumire had such an interesting backstory and complicated relationship with her sister. her identity issues, her struggle with self-confidence, the way she can empathize the best with Maruki's view of the world bc she has also wished to just bury her head in the sand and run away. I love her.

meanwhile Maruki truly is the game's saving grace as an antagonist. Shido was god-awful and Yaldabaoth was, hmm... fine but not quite as interesting or compelling as either Nyx Avatar or (redacted p4 antagonist names bc I don't know if you've played p4 yet), but Maruki wipes the floor with all the other p5 antagonists. his tragic motivations, his fucked-up "I know best" attitude that dismisses human free will and autonomy, I love it. I think something about Maruki altered me and Cele's brains forever, lmao. also the choice to have him as yet another foil to the MC, from their designs (glasses, messy hair, sort of slouched/nondescript posture) to their inability to leave someone in trouble alone without helping them... it's just so interesting. I love you Takuto Maruki you messed-up man with a savior complex.

ANYWAY these were most of my thoughts 😭 I could go on and on even more but I've already rambled a lot! I'm still so mad Tumblr never sent me the message notif for this, I just looked back at my inbox after answering the other one and I was like. WHAT. at some point I really should talk about all my thoughts on the other main phantom thieves too but there are so many of them and I've already written so much fksjsksjsj

#detectiveseapancake #ask #p5r spoilers

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musashi · 8 months

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person who voted other: i was going to click "likes to be cared for" because i think that's true generally, but (from my Parasocial Stranger standpoint) it also seems like you're averse to a lot of the common *methods* people use to express care e.g. accomodation or explaining a topic or so on. which isn't a bad thing but does throw a wrench in the works in terms of "how *should* i express care then" and a lot of Parasocial Internet People who don't know you as a friend stop there

like for instance if you ask for asks and someone goes onto your carrd and is like "oh no that's a lot of text i am now Scared of whether my ask will accidentally contain some of these things" and then the person just decides to not send an ask. cos your carrd is structured around what *not* to do, so it makes it easy to assume that Well since this person is so confident and self-assured (which is mentioned on your 'how to speak to me' page iirc) and *also* has so many boundaries, i guess they don't really like to be cared for then / their Care Needs are being met by their friends already

obviously i can only speak for myself here though, i don't know if this is a common perception or not. for me personally the mental block of "agh this person seems like they have such cool interesting things to say but what if i accidentally trip over a boundary" was solved very easily when your posts said you liked asks about your special interest, cos then i have A Specific Direction instead of a bunch of directions *not* to go in.

…if any of that makes sense?

anyway tldr i think reading your blog every day it's clear you want to be cared for but if someone just glanced at your carrd they'd probably come away with the impression you don't need it since you're so confident

woah thanks so much for sending such a long in depth response!!!

i just genuinely do not view those two examples you listed as care, i guess? like to me, assuming someone needs an accommodation when they haven't asked for one is just pure ableism. in my day job i work HR and we are given very explicit training on how that in itself is a literal microaggression. even the non-HR employees that i instruct are given a whole training on how being "overly helpful" towards disabled people is a fucked up and shitty thing to do, and ignoring all that--i am disabled. in my day-to-day, i hate it just as much. it seems incredibly rude--when you accommodate someone unprompted, you are assuming that you are more of an expert on their experience than they are. i absolutely HATE when people "talk around" my triggers or try to trigger warn things for me, because it implies that i am somehow incapable of existing without this one person doing this. in my daily life, i am exposed to the trigger, and there is not always some tumblr user in a flower crown to bark out 'UMMM TRIGGER WARNING!' as a herald to it. i have my own methods of processing and dealing with all that, and i don't appreciate the insinuation that i don't. i spend more time with my brain and my disability than literally any person walking the earth, and so to assume that anyone knows more about it than me is just pure fucking unfiltered and unapologetic ableism.

nothing about that reads as "care" by any definition. it's rude, it's self-righteous, it's entitled, and it shows an incredible lack of sensitivity or care.

unfortunate that people think my care needs are being met. narcissistic personality disorder, more often than not, develops as a result of severe neglect and mistreatment. narcissists are often completely alone and isolated from society, with no love or care being leveled toward them. personally, i developed NPD because i could not find a single crumb of support--no one would care for me, no one would compliment me, no one would be there for me when i was sad, i had nothing and no one. so my brain literally FORCED itself to be self-obsessed as a means to survive, because that kind of social isolation and severe loneliness is what makes people kill themselves. my brain did not want me to die.

nothing has really changed. i still do not get a lot of love, care, compliments, or positive reinforcement/support leveled toward me. only now, because i have a personality disorder, i need twice as much.

its very interesting to me that the general consensus seems to be opposite--that self confident people need "less" attention than people more visibly struggling. very unfortunate. the broken cup gets repaired, but the chipped cup stays chipped forever, i suppose.

in any case, thanks! this is all very important and valuable data.

#wendy answers #Anonymous

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bakugohoex · 3 years

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Ok ok hear me out: a sleepover with the class 1A girls and the fem reader, they all let loose eating, doing face masks, dancing in their tiny pjs or whatever and the boys hear about it and go spy on the girls. Bakugou goes because he’s curious to see what the reader is like when they’re not in school (as she seems mom friend ™️) turns out she’s like a big goofball and a dancing queen and Bakugou gets all blushy after realizing he has a fat crush on her. The guys get caught obviously 😂 ty sm!!💕

“she’s doing what?”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: language, kissing, fluff

word count: 1500+

a/n: umm hi, this is a request and i’m done for tonight i need to get on the grind again with revising so hopefully i’ll go back to posting once a day but i thought new year a little treat

summary: in which you’re seen as the mom of class 1a, the boys got to spy on the girls sleepover and what they didn’t expect was you to confess your crush but also for you to have hidden talents that makes bakugo realise he needs to have you

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

If you don’t think you have these boys in the palm of your hand then you’re lying to yourself.

They’re either scared of you telling them off or fearful of disappointing you.

Even Bakugo will refrain from his usual angry self around you,

It’s probably more due to his infatuation with you though.

This boy just wants to know what makes you tick.

How someone like you has the ability to be so caring to the class that even Mineta stops being a perv when you’re around.

He says he doesn’t care.

He does care.

This man just wants to know if you ever act like a normal teenager.

You literally worry about everything with the class.

Making sure Denki doesn’t overcharge himself and become well dumb.

Making sure Ururaka doesn’t use her quirk too much to make her puke.

Even making sure Deku’s injuries arent as bad as they really are.

This man follows the rest of the boys to the girls sleepover and is in shock.

Utter shock at the sights of you doing the Tiktok dance Mina had been begging you to do.

The facemasks and music played in the common area on the bottom floor, the tight shirts and shorts on all the girls. You all had been playing truth or dare with masks you and Mina had bought hours prior. Ready to peel off the masks and toss them in the bin hopefully feeling refreshed and rehydrated. The Saturday night sleepover had been a sacred ritual for months now, the boys being banned from even daring to step one-foot downstairs.

“Truth or dare, Y/n.” Ururaka giggled with the tea that Momo had made in her grasp.

You thought looking around the group, “truth.”

The boys had finally got the nerve to come crawling down. They hid in the kitchen listening in, Mineta being locked in his room due to him being well a pervert. Even Bakugo stood alongside the group of his own free will, they were all listening in, watching how you were waiting for the truth question.

His eyes perked upwards listening into round faces question, he didn’t care about the rest of the girls. He just wanted to see how you were outside the comfort of class and school, of course he had seen you in your less worrying state but this, your shorts shorter than normal. Your shirt peaking upwards towards your stomach, he waited and waited until the words dripped from round faces mouth.

“Out of all the boys in the class who would you date?” It was unexpected and he hoped he said you, it was a wish, knowing how close you were with Todoroki and Midoriya he didn’t expects his name to ever come from a question like that.

He watched you think, your eyes looked tired but still happy before you confessed, “100% Bakugo.”

“Y/n I cant believe you’re actually into the angry Pomeranian.” Momo spoke up.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, like he’s not that angry with me and he’s just I don’t know, I think he’d be an amazing boyfriend.” You confessed the truth, knowing Bakugo would never found out so you didn’t care, “also he’s so fucking attractive.”

They laugh as the truth and dare continued, the boys had looked at Bakugo, his face beet red and his eyes were a lot softer. “She…she likes me.” He whispers.

“Now you can ask her out.” Kirishima nudged him with his shark teeth grinned.

“Shut it.” He muttered allowed not to anyone in particular. You liked him, you saw more past the anger and thought he’d be a good boyfriend. Hell you ever called him attractive, it fuelled his ego and he wanted to see even more.

The boys continued to listen in, “this was a waste of time.” Tokoyami muttered having been dragged here. He left with some others, Bakugo hadn’t noticed but Midoriya stayed talking to Todoroki and Sero and Kirishima and Denki paid attention to the girls so Bakugo wouldn’t feel self-conscious about staying to here you speak. Well Denki mostly stayed thinking that a pillow fight would occur soon enough.

“Y/n, let’s make the Tiktok dance.” She gestured; this perked Bakugo’s ears but he was unable to move. You weren’t going to dance; you were too pristine and clean to dance to a Tiktok song.

“Woah Y/n’s a fucking good dancer.”

“She’s doing what?” He listened to the sound of oops! By yung gravy, it had been playing in Mina’s phone for the past week and Bakugo had gotten sick of it.

But clearly you had learnt the dance as you did it with ease with Mina, you both did the dance with a swing in your step, he watched in awe at how your body moved. Heavily attracted to you and enticed by your movement. He continued to stare, moving his body to lean against the wall in view of the girls as he watched you. He needed you, he craved you and most of all he didn’t care who knew about their spying at all.

“Agh.” Hagakure belched out, making you all stop. You noticed Bakugo’s eyes skim you up and down.

You looked at how the other boys fell out of the kitchen, silence occurred but Bakugo stayed leaning against the wall eyes directly facing you. “How long were you guys there?” You ask, “tell me.”

“Long enough.” Sero spoke to ease the tension.

You heard the noise of stomping down the corridor seeing an agitated Iida, “I told you all there would be consequences if you followed Kaminari.” The blame had shifted to the boy who jolted out of there Jirio and Tsu chasing after him.

Momo, Mina, Hagakure and Ururaka looked between you and Bakugo all knowing he had heard the words that had supposed to have been private. “Let’s go.” Kirishima muttered making the boys leave except Bakugo, the girls looked before collecting there things and scurrying away themselves.

Mina mouthed a sorry before you moved towards your discarded hoodie about to put it on, “leave it.”

It was a command rather than a suggestion and you obliged, tossing it with your things. Before sitting on the sofa, he sat beside you in silence, you looked down not wanting to meet his gaze, “Iida was right, you shouldn’t have been watching us.”

“Really you going to tell me off to avoid the real matter.” He pulled at his hair and action that made your stomach churn with butterflies.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied.

He laughs cocking his head back before meeting your gaze, “you’re the one who said I’d be an amazing boyfriend and called me fucking attractive.”

“I…” You couldn’t lie he had repeated the words, word for word.

He moved closer grabbing your jaw with his rough hands. “You could’ve just told me.” He spoke making your face move closer to his own. His lips brushing against your neck, his hot breath fanning your exposed skin.

“Bakugo.”

“Katsuki, you already think I’m fucking attractive, so call me Katsuki you brat.” You took in a sharp breath, his hand still on your jaw, your cheeks squished between his fingers. “I saw you do that Tiktok, showing yourself off like that to everybody, only I can see that, not those shitty extras, only me.”

You hummed in agreement feeling intoxicated by his voice waiting for him to continue, “you want to be mine, want to be my fucking girl don’t you.”

His thumb brushed against your lips, a soft moan of a “yes” erupted from your mouth. It was beauty to his ears, he felt you lick your lips brushing his thumb.

“Prove it then.” It was another command, he needed you to beg, needed you to prove that you wanted to be his. “Beg for me.”

He brushed his thumb across your cheek, you closed your eyes, “I want to…to kiss you.” It was torture to say, torture to admit that you craved his touch even more.

“That’s all I wanted to here baby girl.” He let go of your grabbing your waist and bringing you closer to him. “You’re a lot more than an irritating worrier than I thought.”

“Katsuki.” You pout, “I thought being nice would make people like me.”

“Be yourself idiot.” He spoke.

“O…” Before you could agree his lips smashed onto your own.

He spoke through the kiss as he nibbled on your bottom lip, “shut up.” You nodded wanting to feel his tongue inside of you, teeth banging together. His touch sending shivers down your spine, feeling him kiss you with such passion that drives you crazy.

His lips were exactly how you expected them to be, rough and able to bruise your own. Your lips felt sore, felt bitten and wary. You felt his tongue guide your own, you followed his movement, his hands in your hair pulling you closer.

He let go taking a breath, watching your dazed position on top of his lap. “Fuck, we should ugh…” He didn’t know how to speak your figure on him making his ears perk red. “…go out or something, I don’t care.”

“I’d love too Katsuki.” You smile, you hadn’t expected his next movement. His arms wrapping around your waist into a hug, the words you had said prior about being an amazing boyfriend. Had shot something inside of him, you believed he would be good at something, and maybe even maybe you believed he would be your amazing boyfriend.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @ukaisgratefulwhore

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fabulouspotatosister · 4 years

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just for a day

summary: What’s a little acting between friends? If friends was even the right word.

word count: (idk yet man lol ) 3,373

request: Hello! I just wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! If I may, could I request an 11 x reader where the reader’s friends keep bugging them to get a boyfriend, but they say they already do and they have to ask the Doctor to be their “boyfriend” (kind of like with Clara at the beginning of Time Of The Doctor) and eventually leads to feelings being spilt? If not, that’s perfectly fine!

a/n: this got WAYYY too long and for that i am so sorry lmao. i’m writing and posting this on the same day so if there are many mistakes or it doesn’t make sense that’s on me. anyway, i hope you enjoy this fic!

gif credit: @pavel-chekovs

“You’re back!”

You’d expected screaming. You’d expected yelling, and a fair dose of pterodactyl-esque screeching from the students in your advisory class, but what you weren’t expecting was crying. And lots of it. Nearly every fresh-faced elementary student was in tears, some sobbing quietly and some full-on bawling as soon as you walked through the door.

It was nice, cute even, but honestly a little disconcerting.

“Hi, everyone,” you said, shutting the door carefully behind you. The sight of their crying faces immediately activated your Parent Mode. “Are you all okay?”

“Perfectly fine!” Marih chirped, president of the class and therefore a little more levelheaded than the rest, which earned her a handful of disagreeing sighs. “What? Guys, you look ridiculous crying,” she continued, as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her palms and gave you a toothy grin. “We’re just happy you’re here again.”

You smiled at her, and reached out to pat the top of her head. “That’s great and all, but it’s like you guys haven’t seen me in ages.”

A heavy silence fell over the whole class. You saw students shift in their seats and look down at the floor, suddenly very interested in their black school shoes. Even Jaden, the class’s resident troublemaker, didn’t say a word. Marih cringed, ran a hand through her long dark hair, and smoothed the front of her checkered uniform.

“How long have I been gone?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Marih seemed to cringe away at the question. “I thought I was only travelling for a week!”

“Actually,” Marih said, stretching out the word, “you’ve been gone for three months?”

Your mouth fell open. You stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before you dug into your pocket and fished out your phone – she was right, it had been exactly three months and a week since you’d left the school to go travelling.

You groaned. “Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

By travelling, you meant time travelling and by him you meant the Doctor. The madman in a box that you’d run off with. You had let him turn your life upside down in the best way possible since he dragged you into the TARDIS, with his stupidly gorgeous smile and eyes and – you were getting off topic. Now you were plotting the murder of the man that you would consider to be the most incredible thing that had ever happened to you.

“Hey, ma’am?” came a soft voice from the front of the room. Karyll, with her tied-back hair and glasses, looked up at you from her seat. “Why are you looking like you’re going to kill someone?”

“’Cause I am,” you said cheerily, shoving your phone back into your pocket. Oh, you were going to have words with him, and they would most definitely not be nice ones. “Have I missed anything big? Were you nice to my substitute?”

A collective wave of disagreement swept over the class, and you couldn’t help but let a smile slip onto your face. These were your babies after all, and if you’d really been gone for three months then they were sorely missing their Second Mom.

Maybe the tears weren’t that much of a surprise after all.

“Okay, good morning everyone! Now, if we’re still on schedule, and I really hope we are, we should be talking about integers…”

The late afternoon sun drifted through the curtains of your classroom, filling the room with an almost hazy glow as you sat with your best friends in a haphazard circle of desks. Your kids had all gone home already, and a little pile of flowers and chocolates sat neatly on your shelves, right beside your lesson plan folders.

Denise leaned forward to look at them, her curly hair falling over her face. She was the elementary students’ science teacher, and was so well-organized it was almost inhuman. She would have liked the planet where everything was arranged alphabetically, you thought.

“I’m jealous, my students never give me gifts,” she said as she leaned away. “Sis, where have you even been?”

“Long story,” you replied, and it was. You weren’t sure if you could fit everything you’d been through – travelling through time, going to planets lightyears away, and of course all of the near-death experiences – into a story that you could tell in under an hour, and you weren’t going to try.

“And you’ve been travelling? By yourself?” Julianne, an arts teacher, raised her eyebrows at you from behind her laptop. “God, that’s lonely. Oh – unless…” Her calm expression morphed into something truly evil in your line of work – mischievousness. “Unless you had someone with you.”

“I mean –” Oh no, this was going to be hard to get out of. “I mean, I wasn’t alone,” you said, hoping the smile on your face was enough to mask your utter fear. You knew exactly where Julianne was going and you hated it. “I was with someone.”

“Ooh,” Julianne said, her grin growing so sly it was sending shivers up your spine. “You’ve been gone three months, has anything happened between you and your travel buddy?”

Heat rushed to your face. If you were a cartoon character steam would be pouring from your ears. “Why would you say something like that?”

Julianne shrugged. “We’ve been telling you to get a boyfriend for so long. You said you’d be gone a week, and then you disappear for three months… that kinda says something, don’t you think, Denise?”

“Definitely.” Denise grinned, and you shot her a helpless look.

“We’re doing this because we love you,” Julianne sang. The light from her laptop was enough to make her look absolutely menacing. “So? Travel buddy? Or more than that?”

The Doctor wasn’t just a travel buddy, and he was so much more than that – but you hadn’t found the words for what he meant to you, at least not yet. Companion was enough for you and him, but even then, there was a weight to that word. And there was definitely a weight to your partnership, but you wouldn’t call it… dating.

Julianne simply waggled her perfectly shaped eyebrows at you. You swallowed. You and the Doctor were a long story too, and Julianne wasn’t going to be happy with “maybe” for an answer.

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Fine, he’s my boyfriend!”

I want to crawl into a hole and die was your inner monologue, and your background music was Julianne and Denise’s raucous laughter. I want to crawl into a hole and never have to face the world ever again.

Smash cut to you, standing nervously in your bedroom, gripping your phone so tightly you were sure it was going to break. Your plans of killing the Doctor for dropping you off late would have to wait. The phone rung once, twice, and you chewed your lip. If he was in the Time Vortex, any version of him could answer the phone and you couldn’t deal with that on top of everything, not today at least –

“Hello?”

You heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of the Doctor, your Doctor’s voice. “Help?” you squeaked out.

“Help?” the Doctor repeated. There was a blaring noise, and then the sound of electricity crackling. Something fizzled and popped, and the Doctor shouted something that sounded like a swear. “Oh, shut it – you – sorry, sorry. You were saying?”

“Uh, where are you right now? Are you somewhere?” you asked.

“I’m not somewhere, I’m drifting! Right above Earth, approximately right where you are,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. It quelled your anxiety somewhat. “I’m doing maintenance. Agh – ow! I think I can see the roof of your house through the clouds, unless that’s someone else’s house. What color is your roof?”

You giggled. “It’s brown. You’re in the same time as me?”

“’Course I am,” the Doctor said. You heard the clanging sound of metal being dropped. “I never left.”

The Doctor liked to run off on his own when you were home and have his own mini-adventures. He liked to come back and say he’d spent his time with alien royalty, or something like that. But instead he was staying put, he was waiting, for you. It made the next part so much harder.

“I need you to be my boyfriend,” you said quickly, covering your burning face with your free hand.

“Oh,” the Doctor said simply. Another clang.

Oh? “Just for a day,” you coughed. “I kind of said that I had a boyfriend, and that he was my travel buddy, and now my friends kind of want to meet you. It’s my grade’s family day tomorrow, maybe you could, uh, show up?”

“And be your boyfriend,” the Doctor said.

You nodded, then, “And be my boyfriend. Just for the day. You never have to show up again.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a second you thought the Doctor was going to say no – he had every right to, of course, and you could just lie and say that he couldn’t show up – but the Doctor laughed, cheerful and warm. “Ding-dong! Okay! What time tomorrow? I have to study, I’m a bit rusty in places.”

Your mouth fell open for the second time in twenty-four hours. “You’re serious?”

“Very! Any pet name preferences?”

You groaned loudly, and the Doctor laughed again. “Shut up!”

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll have to do my own research.”

There was another moment of silence, and when the Doctor spoke again, it was much softer, much less playful. His voice almost sounded fond. “Goodnight?”

“Goodnight, Doctor,” you said softly, and the call cut off with a series of short beeps.

Was it a surprise that you barely slept at all? You had spent the whole night with your imagination running at full capacity, your mind latching onto every single thought and concept it could come up with. You slipped in and out of sleep, lying still in bed whenever a possibility popped into your head. To say you were nervous was the understatement of the year – but what was a little acting between friends?

If friends was the right word for it.

You waited for the Doctor behind the school, leaning against the concrete wall and watching the TARDIS fade into this plane. Wind blew into your face as the TARDIS groaned and wheezed, eventually materializing in front of you.

“I’m not late, am I?” the Doctor said, sticking his head out of the TARDIS doors. He grinned widely, his hair falling into his face. You grinned back at him and pushed yourself off the wall.

“You’re early, which is a first,” you said. The Doctor frowned at you, stepped carefully out of the TARDIS, and frowned some more. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I think I’ve earned the right to look at you however I’d like,” the Doctor huffed, adjusting his bowtie. He’d ditched the tweed for the day, it seemed, going with a long green coat that annoyingly complimented his eyes. The frown didn’t last very long, though, because he went right back to grinning brightly at you. He held out his elbow in your direction. “Shall we?”

“Here’s the lucky girl,” Julianne cooed as you walked into the empty canteen. All the tables were pushed aside to make space for all the games you’d be playing – in the corner of your eye, you saw the Doctor light up at the sight of all of the streamers and balloons. “And here’s the lucky boy – oh my god, Denise.”

“What?” Denise popped up from behind a large speaker, then blanched. “Oh, now I’m double jealous.”

The Doctor pulled away from you to lightly kiss both of Julianne’s cheeks in greeting. Julianne looked positively starstruck when he stepped back to stand beside you, quickly waving Denise over. Denise had her mouth hanging open, still clutching a microphone in her hands.

“Hi,” you said, gesturing at the Doctor, “here’s my boyfriend.”

The Doctor raised his hand and smiled. “Hello! I’m John Smith, lovely to meet you both. You’re my girlfriend’s girl friends, I assume?”

“Uh –” Denise blinked owlishly. “Yeah, we are.” Then, quietly and to herself, “Holy moly.”

You couldn’t help but grin at their flabbergasted faces. The Doctor rested his hand on the small of your back, and you leaned into his touch as if it was the most normal thing in the universe. That was enough to make Denise stumble into Julianne, who barely even reacted, as she was still staring wide-eyed at the both of you.

“I think we caught them off guard,” you said. The Doctor chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“You did when we met, sweetheart,” the Doctor said smoothly. Sweetheart echoed in your ears and bounced off the walls of your already racing mind. Your heart stuttered in your chest. That was bad.

“Oh, are we doing charm now?” you asked. “Are you trying to be charming?”

“I did say I would study,” the Doctor said.

“You guys are insufferable,” Denise said, but she was beaming at you. “If you could get your hands off of your travel buddy for just a few minutes, I need help with the mics, the families are gonna be here any minute…”

Her voice trailed off as she walked back to the speaker. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss the Doctor’s cheek, feeling his skin heat up underneath your lips. “See you later.”

“…See you,” the Doctor echoed, and bent down to kiss your cheek too. He turned on his heel and walked towards the decorations, softly muttering, “Ooh, balloons! Love a good balloon…”

You stared at him for longer than you should have, watching him poke and prod at the balloons lying on the tables. He put his face very close to one and smiled at his reflection in the plastic. Affection welled up in your chest, and a tiny smile slipped onto your face.

“Look at you, you’re smiling at him,” Julianne chimed, sidling up to you and nudging your side. “That’s disgusting.”

“Says the girl who said I needed to get a boyfriend,” you shot back.

The Doctor went still for a little bit and turned to face you, smiled and winked, then went right back to inspecting balloons. Julianne made a strangled noise, and you made one too. So he was doing charm, and you hated to admit that it was absolutely working on you.

“I meant to say disgustingly adorable,” Julianne said. “You’re so lucky.”

You gave him another glance as you walked away to help Denise with the mics – “help with the mics” was apparently code for “I’m going to tease you more about your new boyfriend” which wasn’t helped by the fact that every so often, the Doctor would look in your direction and just smile, which was enough to make you stumble over your own words and give Denise more teasing fodder.

The parents and their kids eventually filed into the canteen and you flipped into Teacher Mode. You stood next to your students, pinched their cheeks and then greeted all of the parents and got everyone ready for the program. (You didn’t notice how the Doctor mirrored you, standing a little far away and watching, a dumb smile on his face.)

Julianne and Denise were the emcees for the family day, big smiles on their faces as they rounded up everyone for the games. At the mere mention of games, the Doctor was back at your side at an instant, his eyes glittering with excitement.

“Please don’t destroy the kids,” you pleaded.

“No promises,” he replied, and then proceeded to destroy the kids in most of the games.

The first game had Julianne call out for whoever could bring an item of her choice to the table – the Doctor, with his coat that was surely bigger on the inside, had no trouble pulling out whatever was asked. Even when Julianne started to test the waters and ask for increasingly insane items, the Doctor just kept going. He jumped in joy like a little kid at the win, bounding up to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You’d just blushed and smiled, ignoring the butterflies that were multiplying in your stomach.

The Doctor holding your hand wasn’t new. The Doctor being close to you wasn’t new. The Doctor being affectionate with you wasn’t new. But now it was all under the guise of being your boyfriend. Of course it felt different, but to your surprise and growing horror, it didn’t feel bad.

The Doctor shouting your name snapped you out of your thoughts. He was standing on a piece of newspaper as Denise started to get music ready, waving his arms to beckon you over. His coat was gone, thrown onto a nearby table, and even without it he was dashing.

“I need you over here!” he yelled, still jumping excitedly. His hair bounced up and down with the movement. “I need a partner!”

You let your feet carry you to him, trying to ignore the stares pointed your way. The Doctor took your hand in his and pulled you onto the newspaper.

“Stay close,” the Doctor said. “I’ve got this.”

Loud, thumping music filled the air. The Doctor spun you around and you squealed in surprise, moving your feet clumsily to the music. Suddenly, it stopped, and the Doctor pulled you back onto the newspaper. It was a tight fit, and you had to press yourself against his body to even stay standing. The butterflies in your stomach went crazy at the contact, and once again you tried to ignore that, too.

“What did I say?” the Doctor breathed, his breath tickling your ear, his smile wide and manic. “Let’s dance!”

The paper got smaller and smaller, and the two of you got closer and closer. Sweat started to bead on your forehead, and the Doctor had rolled his sleeves up in the middle of all the chaos. In the end, it was just you and another pair of parents, tiptoeing on their own folded pieces of newspaper.

“I’ve got an idea,” the Doctor said, his voice loud over the music. “When the music stops, jump into my arms.”

“Seriously?!” you shouted, and the Doctor nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve got the balance of a drunk giraffe! You’ll drop me!”

“Do you trust me?” the Doctor asked.

There wasn’t any question. “I do!”

“Then jump!”

The music stopped, and in the split second where the Doctor stepped onto the now-tiny folded newspaper, you ran and leapt. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to catch you at all, and in your mind you could already see it – you crashing into him and sending you both tumbling to the floor.

The Doctor’s arms shot out and caught you. Cheers erupted from everyone in the canteen, and behind you your competitors both lost their balance and fell face-first onto the floor. You wrapped your arms around the Doctor’s neck to steady yourself in his arms, feeling him shake slightly as he kept you aloft.

“We won!” you gasped, still basking in all of the cheering. “As expected from my lovely boyfriend.”

The words left your mouth as easily as breathing. You smiled up at the Doctor, breathless from all of the dancing. His skin shone with sweat, his hair was a mess, and his bowtie was askew, but even that was enough to make you throw all caution to the wind – still in his arms, you pulled him down and kissed him.

Cheers erupted from everyone again, but you could care less. The room could be empty and nothing would have changed. As cliché as it sounded, all the mattered was the feeling of the Doctor’s lips against yours. Your hands found their way into his hair and he melted into your touch, pulling you closer to him.

“You know,” the Doctor breathed as he pulled away, “I don’t want this to be just for a day.”

“Good,” you replied. You leaned up to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Because I don’t either.”

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #eleventh doctor fanfiction #oh god i spend too long on the intro for this i'm so sorry

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amillionsmiles · 3 years

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in your bedroom after the war (Dick/Artemis)

Title: in your bedroom after the war Summary: As far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could be doing worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass. / Post-Invasion, pre-Outsiders. Rated M. A/N: I have one (1) agenda and that is messy grieving fuck buddies who are each other’s ride-or-dies. if you are not into fic that sits squarely in sad feral horny territory, then this is probably not your speed.

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| GOTHAM

| JANUARY 14, 2017; 12:05 AM EST

Artemis is a bit heavier than she was in her teenage years, but her feet land lightly on the fire escape by the window. An hour ago, she’d called her mom from Metropolis, promising she’d be home by midnight. Ever since her daughter faked her death a year ago, Paula Nguyen has become even more of a worrywart, and Artemis knows that the five minutes she’s running late are going to cause her to receive an earful.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in this neck of the woods.” A familiar figure drops from the roof above onto the rung below her.

“Nightwing.”

She’s not surprised that he’s been keeping tabs. Officially, he’s been on a leave of absence for the past six months, but Dick, like her, is vigilant in his grief.

She’d come back to Gotham because it put her closer to Metropolis and Beta Squad’s continued investigation of LexCorp, but the truth is that she could have Zeta-tubed from Palo Alto easily. Their—her—apartment had been no good though, not without Wally. So she’d left most of her things in storage to figure out later and moved back in with her mom. On days when Artemis can’t muster the energy to get out of bed, Paula wheels determinedly around the kitchen, ready to whip up some mì xào or a warm bowl of mì gói. They play card games and laugh about how bad Wally was at tiến lên the first time Paula tried to teach him. Your boy has no patience, he always wants to play his strongest cards right away, her mom had teased, and Wally had protested, I make it a rule to always put my best foot forward! and Artemis had loved him even more then.

Loved. Loves. She hates the past tense.

“I mean, were you ever going to ask me to grab coffee?”

She can see the bits of Wally in his cracks. In a room together, it was always easy to tell they were best friends from the way they riffed off each other. The acrobat and the speedster: all verbal gymnastics and fast-moving quips. But unlike Wally, who liked poking fun because he liked getting attention, Dick is at his wittiest when trying to avoid talking about himself.

Artemis reaches out and pulls him to sit down beside her. She makes a show of looking at her watch.

“How’s… 12:15 AM this Saturday?”

Dick pretends to check it against his mental schedule. If his is anything like hers, it probably goes: Wake up. Exercise (beating up bad guys counts). Mourn.

“Yeah, seems like I can swing it.”

“Perfect,” says Artemis, sliding up the glass panes to let them into her childhood bedroom. “I’ve got just the stuff.”

In the kitchen, Brucely stirs briefly from his dog bed to sniff the air and yip, then curls back asleep. Paula hands Dick a mug, waiting for him to take a sip before saying, “So you were the one who had the brilliant plan to have my daughter fake her death.”

Dick splutters; from the table, Artemis rises to his defense. “Mom,” she says. “Leave him be.”

Setting his cup down, Dick leans against the cabinets, bending his head slightly and rubbing the back of his neck. He does a good job of appearing chastised, and Artemis wants to roll her eyes, if only because she’s heard from Bette and Raquel that this pose is far too effective at convincing women to want to forgive him or try again.

“I’m not leading much of anything these days, if that’s at all a comfort to you.”

“Hmph.” Paula sniffs. “You live alone?”

“Yeah.” Dick shoots Artemis a questioning look over her mom’s head. Artemis shrugs.

“What do you do to fill the time?”

“A lot of reading. Gotham’s library system actually has a pretty good selection, believe it or not. I’ve also gotten really into meditating.”

“And you don’t sleep.”

Dick stiffens. For the first time, he looks exposed, a boy with too much guilt and too much time on his hands.

“I do. Tonight I was just… restless.”

Paula nods and backs up her wheelchair so she can sit by Artemis, curling her fingers over Artemis’s hand and squeezing. She raises her drink, Artemis and Dick following suit, the three of them toasting to invisible losses.

“Aren’t we all.”

Later, back on the fire escape, Dick taps his fingers against the railing, jittery. “I feel like I need to start doing jumping jacks. What was in that stuff?”

Artemis bites back a smile. “Yeah, Vietnamese coffee packs a hit. That’s my bad. Probably should have given you something non-caffeinated at this hour.”

“It’s fine. I’ll jog it out, or something.” He turns to go, but Artemis stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, listen—it was good seeing you tonight. And if you need someone to talk to…” What she really means is: it’d be nice to be around someone who’s hurting as much as I am. Not to say that the rest of the team wasn’t as torn up over Wally’s death, but she and Dick had been ground zero. Closest to the blast.

After a pause, Dick nods. “Yeah… I could use a sparring partner, actually. I’ll send you an address.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, Artemis withdraws her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

It feels like a start.

Dick’s directions lead Artemis to Wayne Manor; from there he takes her to the Bat Cave.

“I thought you were striking out on your own,” Artemis says, using her forearms to deflect a kick to her face. Dick grunts and recovers, throwing a punch to her stomach; she dances out of the way.

“I am. I just pop in here from time to time because Bruce has better equipment. Plus there’s less of a chance of me disturbing the neighbors.” He gestures to the eerily blue-lit stone walls around them.

Artemis feints and goes low, ducking under Dick’s guard. Two quick hits to Dick’s sternum pushes him back, before he gets a hand on her wrist and twists her around so that her back is pressed against his chest.

“Weren’t we supposed to be talking?”

Kicking his shin, Artemis breaks free. “All right, fine. I’ll start.” Jab. “I keep wanting a scapegoat.” Kick. “Like, one person to blame, instead of something as big as the Reach. But it’s not some giant revenge thing, and I know Wally wouldn’t want me to go down that sort of all-consuming rabbit hole even if it was, and that pisses. Me. Off.” On those last words, she manages to use Dick’s momentum against him and flips him over her shoulder.

For a minute, it’s so quiet between them she can hear the faint plip of water dripping from a stalactite into the water below the sparring dais. Still lying on the floor, Dick confesses, “I keep hearing him.”

“I make a joke to myself and he’s there, in my ear, with the punchline. And then…” He passes a hand over his face. “And then I realize that the real punchline is him being gone.”

Slowly, Artemis approaches him. She feels like she did when they were undercover at Haly’s circus so many years ago, that brief moment of hangtime before their hands connected in the air. She means to sit down next to him, pat his shoulder, she doesn’t know what, but instead Dick sweeps her legs out from under her and she goes down hard, the air whooshing out of her chest as she falls flat on her back.

“Agh!” The release sets something loose inside her. Next thing she knows, she’s yelling again, louder, just because.

Dick catches on and then it’s just the two of them shouting, their voices echoing through the cavern, threading around and piling atop each other like a flock of birds. After they’re done, Dick rolls so that they’re lying side by side.

“You know, when we were starting out—when we first became friends—I used to make fun of Wally that if he kept talking so much while running he was bound to swallow more bugs, or something. And he’d just shoot back like, ‘Nah dude, you think I’m not fast enough to see them and dodge them in the air?’ But you know how he was always so hungry after missions? One time I was so mad at him I put a bug in his sandwich. I’ve never forgotten the look on his face after he bit into it and I said, dodge that.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis gasps and covers her mouth, horrified, but she can see it so vividly: the colors draining from Wally’s face, making his freckles pop even more against his skin, the same greenish tint his cheeks took the time they went to Vietnam and he got food poisoning. He’d spent two days feverishly glaring up at the mosquito netting, and Artemis had draped cold hand towels over his forehead and promised she wasn’t going to leave him for the very obliging boy who kept bringing them ice.

“I did.” Dick is gleeful. “Really put the ‘rank’ in prank.”

Artemis snorts; the snort turns into a full-blown guffaw. Dick turns toward her, laughing too. His hair is matted with sweat but still soft; it brushes against her forehead.

It feels so good to be close to someone again, to be able to flip on a dime from sadness to frustration to anger to laughter and not have to explain herself. She can’t remember the last time she smiled and didn’t feel guilty about it, and she means it more affectionately than anything when she reaches over and brings Dick’s mouth to hers, like if she inhales whatever they’ve temporarily managed to create here between them, it’ll be enough to tide her over for the next few months. For a second, he’s warm and responsive, before his lips stiffen and he pulls back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, shouldn’t blame yourself for getting back in the game. Artemis is sick of people telling her how to deal, how it’s supposed to go. It’ll get better and then it doesn’t. People talk like there are guidebooks for this kind of shit, like it’s a marathon she just needs to pace herself through. And it’s the stupidest thing, but she misses being held.

She sits up and crosses her arms, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. “You didn’t do anything. I’ll go.”

“No, Artemis, wait, I don’t think you should go, I just want to understand what’s going on—”

“I want you to touch me, okay?” she explodes. “I want you to touch me because he’s never going to again and I know you loved him too and—and maybe if it’s you, I won’t feel so desperately alone.”

Dick looks stricken, and then, hesitantly, he reaches for her. His eyes are so blue, the kind of crushed eggshell you’d use to make a paint. “You’re not alone.”

“Prove it,” she says, vision blurring with tears—wanting, needing him closer, and then his hairline is up against hers again and his nose is at her cheek, his mouth at her jaw, soft but with a willingness to bruise. Don’t ask me what we’re about to do, Artemis silently begs, and Dick doesn’t.

Wally had been a restless lover. Always turning them over, switching positions. Artemis had taken it as a challenge, part of the ongoing competition that defined their relationship. Deep down, she’d known that Wally would be just as content if the rest of their sex life consisted solely of spooning gently on Sundays, which, if anything, was why she’d been so eager to experiment—because it felt like an easy gift she could give, not something she had to master to “maintain excitement” or make him stay.

She’s not sure what she expected from Dick. Maybe that’s a comfort—that she wasn’t fantasizing before they happened, wondering about all the mechanics of how it would go. Dick lets her call the shots, lets her ride him into the ground, the grip of his fingers around her thighs the only reminder she isn’t just angling toward oblivion. When he presses his thumb between her legs, it’s a weird sort of anchor—like hearing a voice pick up on a line you thought was dead. She has a body, and here’s someone on the other end of it, caring about her release. As soon as that thought hits, the relief shudders through her; she keeps rocking long enough to feel Dick follow, a stutter and a grunt, before she collapses boneless over him, the sweat of his skin a comforting stickiness against her cheek.

Internally, she apologizes to Bruce for desecrating his training space. Then again, they’re hardly the first of the Justice League to get handsy in less than appropriate places. She’s seen how Black Canary and Green Arrow act around each other.

Below her, Dick catches his breath. The rush of blood—his or hers—is loud in her ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…” Giving, she means to say, but it gets lost on her tongue. “I mean, Zatanna…” she trails off again.

If Dick’s embarrassed at the prospect of his ex-girlfriend having blabbed about the details of their sex life to Artemis, he doesn’t show it. His fingers find a snag in her hair; gently, he works it loose. The air smells hedonistic. He keeps combing. Nice is the only word she can think to describe it, and that makes her want to cry again, so she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his chest.

Dick pauses his ministrations. He flattens his palm against the base of her neck and just—holds her there.

“Don’t mention it.”

When she goes home that afternoon to shower, she runs the water on full blast for a long time.

Armed with Chinese food, she visits Dick’s place the next day intent on making amends. Dick doesn’t even act surprised; he just points to the glass coffee table where she can set the bag of chopsticks, napkins, and takeout.

“I’m trying to decide what to watch.”

There’s really no need for him to stand in front of the TV the way he does, one hand propped on his hip as he clicks through options with the remote. Artemis lets herself ogle, a bit. The surest way to blow past what happened between them yesterday is to be honest with herself, right? And as far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could have done worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass.

“Any preferences?”

“Between what?” asks Artemis, cracking open the carton of lo mein and settling back against the cushions. The Netflix suggestion algorithm onscreen paints a condemning picture of Dick’s tastes. “True crime or… true crime?”

Wally had been really into nature documentaries. One time during freshman year, when they were still living on Stanford’s campus, they’d gotten high in Wally’s dorm room and watched Blue Planet. Wally had cried when the seal got flung apart by killer whales.

“I’ll Be Gone in the Dark it is, then,” says Dick. He settles next to her on the couch, peeling back one of the orders and sniffing its contents. “What’s this one?”

“Salt and pepper ribs. They were today’s special.”

“Artemis.” Dick beams. “You really do care about me.”

Ten minutes into the episode begs a single question: “Isn’t it sort of depressing that you spend so much of your day fighting crime, and then you go home to unwind and just watch… more of it?”

Dick shrugs. “It keeps me sharp. And it’s nice seeing other people solve problems.”

“Well, if you ever feel like branching out, there’s a short film about Rubik’s cubes you might like.” Artemis nudges his side. “Remember when you were a scrawny math geek?”

Bringing both hands behind his head, Dick smirks. “Still a math geek. Just not scrawny.”

Artemis stares. That was just a bit of friendly showboating, right? Or was it a flirt? Not trusting herself, she whips her gaze back toward the TV. What feels like eons later, the credits roll.

“Artemis,” Dick says, too soft for having just finished a show about murder. He taps the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some food stuck.”

She wipes with the back of her hand; a breaded piece of orange chicken emerges as the culprit. Without thinking, she flicks it off, sending it flying somewhere onto Dick’s carpet.

“Oops.”

Chuckling, Dick shakes his head. “I need to vacuum tomorrow, anyways.”

The mention of tomorrow stirs her. “Right. I should head out.”

“Yeah.” Dick rises to help her clean up their mess, holding open the plastic bag so she can toss in the soiled napkins and other bits of trash. “Or—”

He hesitates, but the hesitation’s enough. It might as well be a hand on her wrist, with how it stops her in her tracks. All night, despite what she told herself, she’s been looking for proof: proof that his aloneness fits the shape of hers, that he needs her, too. This time, Dick makes the first move—cups her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep and full of heat. Some pepper from the food they ate still lingers on his lips, making her mouth tingle, and Artemis is dizzy and flat on her back on the couch before she knows it, giving in.

Not scrawny at all, she thinks, admiring the solidness of Dick’s knees on either side of her, the weight of his frame as they grind together. The sheer mechanics of it feel very horny-teenager-after-prom, but the way Dick sucks her bottom lip and swallows her breath down with it is decidedly adult. These days, Artemis practically lives in her sports bra, which doesn’t exactly grant easy access, but when Dick’s fingertips skim over the cotton covering her breasts the sensation zings all the way down her spine.

“Need… off…”

“Yeah,” Dick murmurs, humming as he moves down the column of her neck. “Gimme a sec, I’m working on it.”

She’d worn sweats because she figured their bagginess would keep her from sparring again and any potential… situations that could arise from that. Instead, all it means is Dick unties the drawstrings easily, sliding her pants down her legs. Cool air brushes across her as he shifts positions; she wants to sob in relief. His teeth graze her hip and then catch the edge of her panties and—oh. Fuck. The moan tears out of her and she scrabbles at the armrest, hips rising of their own accord. Next time, she is handcuffing Dick to a bed, because what he’s doing with his tongue and fingers should be illegal. She can feel him grinning, the bastard, and the only thing keeping her from crushing his head to a pulp between her thighs is the maneuver he pulls where he hooks her knees over his shoulders, so he can change the angle and plunge in deeper. Artemis shoves the edge of her T-shirt into her mouth at the last minute, only barely managing to muffle her cry.

Dick surfaces from his solo mission looking entirely too satisfied, mouth glistening. Trembling, still, from her orgasm, Artemis squints at him, possessed by some combination of unbridled lust and rage.

“Dick.”

“You calling, or asking?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She feels like a newborn foal, after what he just did to her, but the urge to dismantle him just as thoroughly sends her surging upward and pushing him back. Dick welcomes their reversed positions by peeling off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder, all while Artemis works furiously at his belt. It shouldn’t feel so good, to hear the metal clink against his button and watch the leather slide through the loops. To see the shadows the light of the TV casts on him—the lashes on his cheeks, the hollow of his throat. Artemis hadn’t paid much attention the first time, too desperate and caught up a bit in self-loathing, but now she’s actually enjoying this, savoring the flex of Dick’s abs as he pushes up to meet her, his skin pebbling at her touch.

“I’m going to take you apart,” she purrs.

Dick groans and bucks. The sensation sends a sharp spike of pleasure through her, and she clamps down on him tighter, refusing to yield.

“Try me, Tigress,” he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm so he can mouth at her collarbone. With his other hand, he pulls off her hairtie so her hair comes free of her ponytail, and this is going to be a thing with him, isn’t it, him wanting to fuck her while her hair swings loose around her face. She indulges him for a few minutes, claws his back and bites his shoulder for good measure, but then she’s pushing him back down and stretching out her body as languidly as possible to remind him who’s boss. Their pace slows. Dick keeps a hand fisted in her hair, so he can tug her head back in order to keep her neck exposed to his wanton mouth, but his grip gets less sure the closer she pushes him to the edge.

“Art—” says Dick, the single syllable like a painting pinned to the wall, fraught with desire, and then he just lets it drop, the tresses of her hair falling through his fingers. She wants to tell him that he’s beautiful, that he does look like a boy wonder, right then, in the midst of coming undone, chest flushed and hair mussed and pupils blown nearly wide enough to overtake the blue.

She doesn’t, but she stays the night, and that’s close enough.

High-functioning, Artemis’s therapist had called her, before Artemis moved back to Gotham. And it does feel like a high—the sneaking around, the after-hours meet-ups, the back-and-forth. There’s no one really keeping tabs on her, though Artemis has plenty of cover stories if anyone asks (new intel, side reconnaissance, etcetera, etcetera). Her mom eyes her and says, “As long as you’re not planning on staging your own death again, because I will find out and I will kill you this time,” and that’s that. Artemis nearly laughs. If anything, what she’s doing is the opposite, a small resurrection. An entire month and a half passes this way: day trips and dinners and movie nights and Dick and her in a bathtub, in the shower, against a wall. She even wears a gown and heels once, not because they have an actual event to attend, but because Dick has a fantasy that involves taking her from behind in the Wayne Manor library.

They’re in his apartment on a Sunday morning bathing in the afterglow, sheets tangled around their waists. Thank god Dick is one of those assholes that splurged on not only a nice mattress but also a solid bed frame. Artemis reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes. The black tuft on the back of his head that she likes grabbing is fluffed up like a duck's tail, and under the sunlight slanting through the windows, he looks angelic.

“Are you falling back asleep?”

Yawning, Dick snags her around the waist, dragging her to him. She should not delight this much in being manhandled.

“You wore me out,” he complains, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“They just don’t make them like they used to,” Artemis sighs. Dick growls a little at the dig, fingers tightening against her hip.

Well. If he’s going to nap, she is, too. Comfortably spooned, she snuggles back against him, prepared to drift off.

“Do you think Wally would have wanted…” Dick doesn’t finish the thought.

Artemis turns in his arms. Dick has long eyelashes, and he’s looking at her through them almost bashfully. She places a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat thump once, twice.

“I think he would want us to be happy.”

“Are you?” Dick’s voice fades out and he has to swallow hard to clear his throat. “Happy?”

“I’m not… miserable.”

Dick runs his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder. “Me neither.”

“You know, Wally and I thought…” She bites her lip, remembering a whoosh of air, Wally speeding to her side to kiss her and interrupting her report on the disabled Paris MFD. I know we promised each other we’d get out of this game, but maybe we can have our life together and play hero, too. “We thought we’d have everything.”

Dick’s response isn’t mournful; it’s matter-of-fact. “After my parents died, I never really convinced myself that I could have it all.”

“That sounds like something Batman would say.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Once upon a time, Artemis had stood before the team ready to lay bare her darkest secret, waiting to be kicked out. And Dick had shown his hand: he’d known from the beginning and hadn’t cared. You aren’t your family. You’re one of us. She knows he’s second-guessed himself over the years, wondering how fit he actually is to play leader. But for her, trust has always been the easiest thing about the two of them. It was why she’d said yes so easily to his deep cover mission—because she knew that he wouldn’t quit until he’d brought all of them home, that he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Taking his face in both her hands, she looks deep into his eyes. “You deserve good things, Dick Grayson.”

“Mm.” Dick smiles into her kiss, hooks his ankle over hers. “Keep telling me that. I’ll start to believe it.”

Jade abandons Will and Lian on a Tuesday, and Artemis’s carefully crafted equilibrium falls apart. At least this time she’s not the one directly being left, unlike when she was a teenager. Her expectations of her older sister had hardly been high, but if she’d plotted them on a graph they’d have trended upward. Now they’ve tanked.

“Did she leave any hint of where she was going?” Dick asks over the whir of his juicer. He’s gotten really into squeezing oranges lately; Artemis can’t complain because he always gives her the first glass.

“It’s Jade. She never wants to be found, and I hardly think she’s about to try an Eat Pray Love type thing.”

“Eat Slash Steal, maybe?” Dick offers, dropping two ice cubes into a drink and setting it in front of her.

Artemis sips, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him at the same time. “Watch it, that’s still my family you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry. How’s Will taking it?”

“As well as any dad trying to raise a two-year-old by himself would.”

“So, poorly.” Dick taps his finger against the table. “Are they coming here?”

Artemis looks at him blankly. “Why?”

“I figured they might want to be closer to you and your mom now that Jade’s gone. Gotham’s not so bad—you and I turned out fine. And Will probably needs to look into preschools and a babysitter for Lian soon. If you move in with me, you can bring her over whenever.”

The last piece of information slips in so casually she thinks she’s misheard. “What?”

“If you move in with me, you can bring Lian over whenever,” repeats Dick. “This place is as good as yours. You’re over here all the time anyway.”

Suddenly, she can’t breathe. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “W—Will’s home is in Star City. He’s not going to move.”

Slowly, Dick says, “Okay. But my offer doesn’t really depend on Will.��

Her stuff is still in boxes. She’s still paying for a storage unit almost 3,000 miles away. And Dick is waiting on her so intently it makes her chest hurt.

Artemis stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Dick’s eyebrows rise. Annoyance, or maybe anger, flickers across his face. “You wanna fill me in on what exactly it is we’re doing, according to you?”

“We’re not going to fight about this like we’re…” In a relationship. In love. In anything other than a messy configuration started by shared grief. She doesn’t say any of it out loud, but she doesn’t need to—Dick’s always been great at reading people, and he’s known all her tells from the start.

“Right.” The single syllable comes out as cold and pointed as an icicle. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. The clouds are rolling in, throwing shadows across his features. Even now, Artemis wants to kiss him, wants to be the one to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows away.

“Dick…”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Dick grabs his jacket from the hook by his door, shrugging it on. He pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Lock my door on the way out.”

That night, she lies alone in her bedroom next to the picture of her, Wally, and Brucely. Brucely snuffles at the foot of her bed and then leaps onto the covers, and this time she doesn’t shoo him off. Neither does she fall asleep.

There was a song Jade had liked to sing, passed down from their mother: a Vietnamese lullaby about a yellow butterfly, to the tune of “Frère Jacques.” The butterfly flies all over the sky. Come and see. Come and see. When it became clear that Artemis’s hair would grow in blond, not black, Jade started pulling it, making her giggle. You’re the yellow butterfly, see?

The taxicab she calls for the airport is bright yellow in the morning light. Plain old civilian travel for plain old civilian business. You don’t need to be a superhero to fly across the country and move in with your brother-in-law and your niece. She’ll sing silly little songs and wash Lian’s hair, and they’ll be a family same as anyone else’s: clumsy, incomplete.

“Artemis.” Dick coalesces out of the fog. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week, and she should be mad that he’s here because it probably means he’s been monitoring her web traffic and caught wind she’d bought plane tickets. Still, all she feels is relief.

Jade had laughed when Artemis had let slip what she was doing during one rare sisterly bonding moment. “Oh, darling sister, your thing with your little bird boy isn’t about moving on. You’re using him as a holding pattern. Try not to damage him too much, hm?” Rankled, Artemis had hung up the phone—what did Jade know about anything, besides shoving it under the rug and pretending it didn’t matter? Now, though, Artemis sees things more clearly. Jade did know something about bodies and what they could and couldn’t fix; after all, isn’t that why she ran?

She worries with the strap of her duffel bag, letting Dick approach.

“If this were a romcom, you would have waited until I got to the airport and then run through security.”

“If this were a romcom,” says Dick, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’d be trying to make you stay.”

She thinks he might be the one person left on this planet who knows her best. She thinks they could save each other, if they’d let themselves try. But they each have work to do on their own, first.

Setting down her bag, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Wherever else she goes, this spot will always feel like forgiveness. Nose buried in her hair, Dick squeezes her back.

The taxi driver rolls down his window. “Is this guy coming with us or not?”

Artemis pulls back, and there’s so much sky in Dick’s eyes.

“You know where to find me,” she says.

| STAR CITY

| JULY 29, 2018; 7:30 AM PST

“Who are you here to recruit this time?” Will asks, leaning against the doorframe, but Artemis doesn’t need an answer, doesn’t need any details but the black hair she can see just over Will’s shoulder, Dick’s voice at the end of a line.

He jumps, and she jumps with him. They’ll figure out everything else as they go.

Before Dick can respond, she says: “I’m in.”

#young justice #artemis crock #dick grayson #traught #dick x artemis #my writing #fanfiction #ff: yj

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barns imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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morganofthewildfire · 2 years

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i just finished reading the lucky one and you left me too stunned to talk right now but whatever.

i’m a bit ashamed to tell you i procrastinated this reading a lot only because sometimes you leave me FRIGHTENED, but in a good way. you’re one of the people i admire the most as a writer (in general, not only on ao3) and the ONLY reason it took me so long to read it was because i was AFRAID of the angst. really. but i decided it was time to put my big girl pants and read it for once.

now, as a person who HAS read it, the only thing I can say is HOLY. FUCK. WHAT WAS THAT????

the first thing i noticed is that i could feel myself completely immersed in this universe you created, everything is so natural and well tied together that the story felt real to me. i could very easily picture everything and really feel like i was there watching it develop, the setting and the storyline were so flawlessly created that it didn’t even feel fictional to me. if i didn’t know better, i’d be googling “celaena sardothien”, thinking it was a biography (i may have done it while reading the 7 husbands of evelyn hugo lol not one of my cleverest moments but if the names were different you would’ve tricked me as well)

but the fears i mentioned before were true because this story completely ruined me. there was a point in the narrative i had no idea where to find the strength to keep reading. SERIOUSLY. i just got through because never getting to the happy ending would be worse than reading this beautifully written but WRECKING story. i even procrastinated for a few hours at one point because my brain was subconsciously telling me: “bestie it’s only going downhill from here you’re in for a lot of hurt.” and it was right lmao but it was like a tattoo hurt, totally worth it. but an eye tattoo or something because it did hurt like hell but STILL SO FUVKING WORTH IT.

i think the reason it hits so bad is that there’s a lot of things happening at once, and progressively. slowly. if i were aelin and someone asked me what happened, i wouldn’t even know where to start. i thought i would find relief when she started making friends, but it was just one more thing arobynn used to wreck her more (and me lol), even though the group stayed friends after. the good thing is that i was destroyed to the last bit, but then the ending fluff healed me!! i’m a new person now lmao

but one think that made me really happy is that i was so invested in the story that my brain kept sending me songs out of nowhere while i was reading, and it’s been months since that happened to me!! i was so excited i even made a playlist to listen to now while i’m in a post great read haze and also for when i reread. but about music, the lucky one is song-inspired but i feel like it was made very organically (?), i’m not finding the proper words right now but it fits perfectly in a way that makes the reader feel like the song was made after the story, not the other way around.

the lucky one is perfect. characters, plot, EVERYTHING. seriously i’m in love with your story, i’m going to need at least 3 therapy sessions to be prepared for a reread but i’m here for it!! thank you thank you thank you

I don't even know what to say right now, there are no words to describe what this ask means to me 😭

Just thank you so much for all of your extremely kind words, i don't deserve them and you're too nice to me ❤️🥺

This ask has made my entire day, week, month, semester here at school and i just don't even know how to properly convey that besides just saying thank you over and over again. And the fact that you made a playlist for it! thats such a huge compliment and that's so freaking awesome, no one's ever done that for me before so that made me super emotional as well.

so just agh! thank you so much, you're too kind and you're a blessing to this earth

#ask #the lucky one

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

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Flock Together (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Appearances by Dabi, Shigaraki, and Mr. Compress

@dastfast678 requested: “Could you make a another LOV X child!reader, one where the hero's try to "recused" Y/N but they just tells them off?”

Genre: Slight angst

Word Count: 1,442

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

a/n: Thanks for the request! I’m sorry it took so long to do...

Yes, the title is akin to the "birds of a feather" saying. I will also tell you guys that in this universe, if the League ever got caught before things blew up to as big as they've gotten in the manga, the villains would have pulled a Gentle Criminal for the reader. You’ll see why I say that later.

This is still in the same continuity as my other LoV posts, but it can also be a different one as well. Not that I’m planning anything for it, but I think it’s just nice to keep a similar timeline between some of my posts I guess.

Funny how I always end up running when I'm faced with important milestones. I ran when I realized my parents were gone right into the hands of people I thought were going to kill me. And they turned out to be much better than I expected, I have to say.

My former classmate at UA had found me while I was out to get food for the League. They were really craving pizza today and now I have to run. I'm gonna get an earful from them later for coming back late.

They were gonna find me eventually, I should've been prepared. I never even thought of the excuse I was going to use when they inevitably did.

A hand catches my shoulder and I almost scream, only to turn around and see Kaminari. Damnit, I thought he hadn't seen me. When I caught him walking the opposite way as me, I'd hoped I could get away before he realized it was me.

He smiles naturally. "Hey, (Y/n)! I thought I saw you walking around here!" Before I can say anything he grips me into a tight hug. "Gosh, we were all worried about you! Where have you been all this time?"

I pry his grip off of me gently. "I've just...been here, you know, living my life."

For a moment, Kaminari hesitates before he whines out an exhale. "Agh, I can't do this. (Y/n), they kinda sent me to...rescue you, because we had the best relationship."

I furrow my eyebrows "Rescue me?" Should've known. At least they didn't send Midoriya.

"Yeah, sorry about this."

Kaminari suddenly drags me by the arm into the nearest alley. "What the hell-!?" Soon I'm faced with two other figures, both of of them I know very well also. Damnit, they did send Midoriya.

"Before you say anything, no one else knows we're here, it's just us," Midoriya blurts out.

"I'm surprised Todoroki isn't here," I respond lamely, sighing at the mini intervention. "It's usually the two of you acting on whims together."

"It was my idea this time," Kaminari admits as he rubs the back of his neck. "The school's officially taking you off the roster and we at least wanted to look for you one last time."

My fist clenches and I look down. "I didn't know I'd be so missed."

"We were very worried about you! It's not becoming of a young hero-in-training to miss class!" Iida chops at the air. It's nice to know he hasn't changed much.

"How did you guys even know I was here?"

"That's not important," Midoriya answers quickly and takes a step towards me. Concern fills his face. "(Y/n), please come back. We don't know why you left, but we can sort it out."

I'm silent, holding his pleading gaze with my own icy stare. "You guys said no one else knows you're here. Keep it that way and leave. No one else needs to know where I am or what I'm doing." I turn to walk away.

"Are you with the League?" Kaminari's voice sounds broken, a stark contrast from his usual upbeat, dorky tone.

I'm taken aback by how he could've known that, but I brush it off. "That's none of your business."

He forces out a nervous laugh. "I think I get it, you want to stay and gather intell-"

"No, I'm staying because I want to stay." My conviction is firm. There's no point in denying it.

Iida pushes up his glasses. "It looks like they've brainwashed you, (Y/n)-san, this isn't like you. You were always so quiet-"

"Yeah, but you had no idea why!" I close my eyes and breath. It's not worth it to blow up and tell them everything that's happened, it's in the past and I'm working on resolving it myself. "I don't need to be a hero anymore, it won't solve my problems like I thought before."

"So you'd rather be a villain?! Taking innocent lives?!"

"I don't do any of that!" I snarl back at him.

"But you will eventually!"

"And I'll figure it out when the time comes!" Their faces fall. "They may be villains, but they've helped me so much more than when I was in UA! I feel safe with them. They're my new family, and I'm staying with them."

"Well, that's touching."

The boys in front of me stiffen at the voice behind me. I turn to see Shigaraki, Dabi, and Mr. Compress approaching in the darkness of the alleyway.

"We were wondering what was taking you so long, so we had to come check," the masked man haughtily explains, dropping a hand on top of my head. My former classmates go pale at the sight. They probably think he was going to hurt me.

"We meet again, Midoriya Izuku." Shigaraki's cracked lips turn up into a crazed smirk and Midoriya gulps.

"UA kids all alone, huh," Dabi comments. "What was their big plan? To come kidnap you back to them? They would have to do through us first." His palm lights up with blue flames. "I'm sure Toga would've liked to see this boy again."

"I've been dying to try my new trick on someone!" Compress waves his hands dramatically, a few marbles appearing between his fingers. "I've got the props all ready right here!"

"Don't hurt them," I say blankly. I don't have much power over them, but I can at least give my opinion. "It's not worth getting into a struggle with them now."

"(Y/n)'s right," Shigaraki sighs and buries his hands in his pockets. "Besides, my stomach's eating itself I'm so hungry. We can settle this another day."

The three of them start exiting and I want to follow behind them, but Kaminari catches my shoulder. "Are you really going with them? You chose them over us?" His crestfallen expression tugs at a soft spot in my chest, but I've already reached a point where it doesn't sway me.

I shrug him off. "You're lucky you're getting out of here without struggle because of me." My voice and my glare are icy toward each of them before I turn and follow the rest out of the alley. "The next time we see each other, we'll be on different sides. I hope you'll be prepared to see me again when it happens."

There's a bitter taste in my mouth as we leave the alleyway. It's not like I feel nothing for them, they were my former classmates after all. The regret I sometimes feel is something more akin to curiosity than anything. If I hadn't run into the League, where would I be? Would I be content the same way as I am now? Am I content? Is this the best I could be doing?

Did I make the right choice?

"Listen kid." Dabi hangs back a little since I'm falling behind from the rest of them. "I don't have the right to tell you what decision you should've made in your life or ask why you decided to live with a bunch of raggedy good-for-nothings like us," he looks up at the other two and leans over, "But if you wanted to walk away from all of this, you still can."

My eyes widen, and for a moment, all the memories of my time in the League come rushing back. All the laughs we shared, the late nights they helped me get through, playing games with them, the take out nights like these. They aren't my family, but it's the closest thing I have to something like that. Even the thought of leaving them leaves a devastating sinking feeling in my chest. "Never," I gasp, breath taken from me at the suggestion.

The man scans me, cocking an eyebrow. "You'd really rather be associated with lawbreakers just because we took you in?"

My face falls. "Is that a bad thing?"

He pauses, not having anything to say to that, and there's a trace of shock in his features. His face relaxes and he clasps his hands behind his neck casually. "I guess you really do fit with us, you've got issues."

I can't help but smile at his words; it's the closest I'll get to him explicitly admitting his appreciation for me. "I don't think it's the issues, it's the broken-ness."

"No kid, you're just weird." His large, burnt hand plops on top of my head as he sighs. "Ah, we're gonna have to move hideouts again. I was actually liking this place."

"The pizza here is most delicious!" Compress pipes up in agreement.

"Ugh, this is why we can't have nice things, you guys always ruin it," Shiguraki groans. "Goodbye, delicious and crunchy thin crust pizza..."

"Oh, don't be a drama queen," Dabi rolls his eyes.

Well, regardless of if this was a correct decision, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. All this might be worth all the trouble I'll get into in the future.

#league of villians x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi #shigaraki tomura #mr compress #request #slight angst #platonic #gender neutral reader #league of villains imagine #league of villains scenario #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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raven-moon33 · 3 years

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Agh, sorry this is so late! I was planning on posting at least two more stories for #jttwfestival2020, so naturally my computer decided to break down the last few weeks of December. ;;

So, here is my exceedingly late contribution for Day #6: Make Your Own Bizarre AU! I will be cross-posting this on my AO3 profile, RavenMoon33, so feel free to check it out there as well.

This is a superhero AU (because I’m just a sucker for those tbh), so for some basic information:

Guanyin is a director/supervisor (think Nick Fury but better) working for the Lotus Syndicate (superhero agency) who goes under the codename Bodhisattva, Sanzang is one of her tech guys (think Q) whose codename is Monk, while the rest of the pilgrims are miscellaneous superheroes put together to be one of the Lotus Syndicates best superhero teams.

I’m already building up a bigger story and world for this (because I can’t seem to help myself apparently) and I do plan on continuing it with at least a few more parts/chapters. I’m not sure yet if I’ll be posting subsequent parts on Tumblr or if I’ll just keep them all on AO3 in a single story/series (purely out of laziness lmao) so keep an eye out for updates there if you like it.

Alright, ramble over. Please enjoy and let me know what you guys think!

“Monk, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please, take a seat.” Sanzang took a deep breath to hide his nerves and did as Guanyin bid him, sinking into the comfortable cushioned chair opposite her desk as well as he could with prickles of anxiety keeping his body tense and alert. He kept his briefcase clutched tightly to his chest as if it could be a barrier between them.

“There’s no need to be so anxious,” she laughed, “I promise I didn’t call you here for anything bad.” He gave a pointed look to the tea set and trays of cookies and sweets positioned strategically on the desk, an obvious bribe if ever he saw one.

“Bodhisattva, the last time you called me in here like this you assigned me to the Five Finger Mountain case.”

“Which turned out well, didn’t it?” She replied, sipping serenely at her tea. He blinked at her, flabbergasted, for a moment.

“I nearly died at least three times, nearly got fired, and spent a full month surviving in the woods on my own!” He stood up angrily when she just continued to stir her tea, pointing an accusing finger at her. “I’m just a tech guy, I wasn’t even supposed to be out on the field! What part of that is good?”

“The part where you rooted out dozens of spies in our network, exposed one of our highest-ranking members for corruption, and got half a dozen of our operatives out of enemy territory after they’d been held prisoner for years, all from your computer in the middle of a run-down shack in the woods?”

He opened his mouth to protest, he had just been doing his job after all, but she cut him off before he could even start.

“Or perhaps before that, when you helped save countless civilian lives by actively going out to the mountain site yourself and manually disabling the satellite gun before it could wipe out a quarter of the population, because no one else would listen to you and I was busy being framed for everything going wrong?” He sheepishly sunk down into his seat at her firm look, fighting the urge to hide his very red face in his hands.

He couldn’t exactly brush the whole thing off as nothing with her sitting right there in front of him, knowing more about what exactly those two months had been like for him than anyone else did. She didn’t seem angry at least, the same as she had when he refused a promotion and the rewarded recognition the higher-ups offered him after it was all said and done.

(He didn’t want the glory of being the person who wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough to save the seventeen people who died between the time he figured out what was really going on and the time he finally gave up on The Lotus Syndicate getting anything done and going rogue. Three days, seventeen people- he should’ve been better. He didn’t want the operatives who made it out of there trying to thank him when they’d been stuck in a dark basement for months, some years, while he’d been off doing who knows what. He should’ve been better. He didn’t want the glory).

But she at least understood, later, when he explained it to her, so she wasn’t angry anymore. He still couldn’t bear to meet her eyes though. Eventually, she took pity on him, handing him a steaming cup of tea. An olive branch.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I was just doing my job.” He muttered at last, sullenly stirring sugar into his tea, accepting the silent apology for what it was. Neither of them liked to think too deeply about that time. She smiled gently at him, the warmth of it easing the tension out of his muscles. The tense air around them cleared.

“And you performed admirably. You are one of the best tech operatives in the business after all, if not the best.” He shook his head slightly, but didn’t try to protest. Questionable heroics aside, he was good at what he did, and they both knew it. “Which is why I’ve called you in here today. I have a new assignment for you.”

He perked up when she placed a folder on the desk between them, eager to leave the shadowy confines of the past behind. Besides, he’d been stuck on filing duty for the past month thanks to Guanyin’s momentary absence and his temporary supervisor hating his guts for whatever reason, and he was bored.

“What is it?” He asked, even as he reached forward and plucked the folder off the desk.

“Have you heard of the Nomads?” He snorted and gave her a disbelieving look.

“No,” he drawled sarcastically, “I can’t say I’ve heard of our most powerful superhero team, the ones who have racked up almost half a trillion dollars in damages in the last year alone and who have single handedly caused the PR department to go on strike no less than three times in the last two years.” Her mouth twisted into a wry yet fond smile.

“They are a handful, but their results more than make up for their more… unique methods.”

“Reckless methods, more like it.” He muttered, starting to flip through the file when she only nodded serenely at him. “What about them?”

“I want you to be their new tech.” He nearly choked on his tea.

“You want me to what?!”

“Be their new tech.” She repeated firmly, setting down her teacup and fixing him with the no-nonsense look he knew better than to ignore. “They’ve become one of our most powerful assets in only two years, but any team without a good tech is basically flying blind. They’ve been doing good out on the field, but they’re not as new as they used to be. The enemy will start to figure out their weaknesses soon, and without a good operative they can trust to lead them well when they’re in dangerous situations, they have a pretty glaring one.”

“You’re not telling me they’ve been operating for two years without a tech?!” He asked incredulously.

“Of course not! I make sure they have a tech for every mission, but,” here she sighed and rubbed at her temple, and she must’ve been exceedingly stressed out if she was actually showing physical signs of it, “they’ve also managed to drive away every tech I’ve assigned to them within a month or flat out refuse to work with the ones who don’t run. They need a good operative, someone competent who won’t run away when the going gets tough, until I can find a more permanent replacement. The pickings are slim, and I want to avoid having to start poaching techs from other departments if I can help it.”

She looked at him then, her eyes beseeching him in the way they only did when she was asking for a favor as a friend, and not as his boss.

“You’re the best pick for the job, because you know what you’re doing and I know I can count on you to do it well.” He could feel himself wavering now, and he could tell she knew it too. “Please Sanzang, you’re the only person I can trust with this right now.” He sighed and slumped back in his chair, defeated.

“How long do you want me on this then?”

“Seventeen months.”

“Seventeen-?!”

“Just until my assistant, Novice, gets back from his mission with the Jade Apprentices,” she interrupted, a hand raised in a plea for civility, “then you can have any position or assignment you want as thanks for taking this one on.”

He paused, considering.

“Even at Thunderclap? You know I don’t like working on the field.” And a position at Thunderclap would practically guarantee he’d never have to go on the field again.

“Yes,” she nodded after a significant pause, though she didn’t seem particularly happy about it, “even at Thunderclap. You’ve more than earned it, if that’s what you truly want.” He sighed in relief and nodded.

“Alright then. Seventeen months.”

“Seventeen months.” She agreed. “You can have the rest of today off, but you’ll be flying out to their main base in Beijing tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the relevant details tonight, but until then try to get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Sanzang did not rest. Once he got home (or rather, the hotel room he’d been living out of for the past few weeks- staying in the same place for too long made him nervous nowadays) he hunkered down in front of his computer monitors and spent the night doing research on the group he’d be spending the next year and a half babysitting.

The Nomads were made up of four members, each more powerful and dangerous than the next.

Freefall, Red Sand, Nine-Toothed Boar, and last but certainly not least, their leader Great Sage.

With the notable exception of Great Sage, each member of the group had been employed by the Lotus Syndicate for at least a few years before falling out of grace in one way or another, whether through an excessive amount of public damage getting them demoted to less than stellar positions in the Syndicate (Freefall and Red Sand) or the sheer amount of HR complaints getting them flat-out fired (Nine-Toothed Boar).

The three of them were only reinstated as high-ranking superheroes after the Five Finger Mountain incident revealed a distressing amount of Lotus’ heroes to be corrupt, severely depleting the Syndicate’s fighting force and requiring many previously fired or demoted heroes to be reinstated (even if only temporarily).

The three were put on a team with one of the Syndicate’s newest and most powerful superheroes (Great Sage, who as far as Sanzang could tell seemed to have popped up out of nowhere) both as a PR stunt (public damage and HR complaints or not, the three were still public favorites and no one was more popular in the public eye than the Great Sage himself) and as a way to keep a close eye on all of them, just in case.

Regardless of their rocky relationship with the Lotus Syndicate however, no one could deny they did amazing work.

It seemed every week there was a new story popping up in headlines about their latest accomplishment in making the world a safer place; stopping bank robberies, rescuing hostages, uncovering shady gang operations, saving the entire world from some type of otherworldly threat, fetching cats stuck in trees- you name it, they’ve done it at least twice in the past six months alone.

Sanzang couldn’t deny they did a lot of good, helped a lot of people, but even just looking at the reports on the damages left over from their altercations with criminals made a headache start throbbing behind his eyes. And he wasn’t even technically responsible for them yet!

He sighed and started compiling folders on all four of them; their powers, their personalities, their greatest successes, their worst failures, every scrap of a clue to each one’s backstory.

Forewarned is forearmed after all, and dammit, Sanzang was nothing if not prepared.

(Sanzang would soon come to learn that when it came to dealing with the Nomads, there was, in fact, no way to be prepared.)

#jttwfestival2020 #jttw #journey to the west #sun wukong #Tang Sanzang #Bodhisattva Guanyin #My writing #yes I had way too much fun coming up with all the names #even though it should've taken me like #five minutes max #but we're going to ignore that because #SECRET IDENTITIES AND MISUNDERSTANDINGS ARE MY BREAD AND BUTTER #bring all the wacky hijinks and hilarious miscommunication #it shall be amazingly cringe don't worry guys

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whump-town · 3 years

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Alright

So, I’m bored but my writer’s block is intense and I haven’t been able to put more than a few words on the page so I’ve decided to comment and be kind to some of my favorite blogs because someone needs to pat you people on the back for being literal angels.

@genevievedarcygranger: you’re a gift. I’m pretty sure you reblog/like everything that I post. I would be lying if I said I didn’t rely on that. I’ll sit and refresh my feed until I get a notification that you’ve seen it because then I can find peace. “Good, she likes it!!” I also love your writing. I’ve commented and reblogged on some of your stuff but like I don’t think you’ve got enough hype. You’re a legend. I don’t deserve you always checking in on me

@clockedstar: you helped me with my stats and read a book bc I recommended it like?? You’re the best kind of person. Always so kind and yet very cool. You’ve made me into not only a Taylor Swift fan but also a Phoebe Bridges fan now too?? Not to mention, I’d probably never finish any HOtchniss fic if you weren’t around to check in on it. I totally owe you an ending to Casualty to the Job and Shattered Heart Fractured Lungs...

@whoreforthebauteam: you deserve everything. I’m not sure how to deliver but if I could I would. Thanks for always checking in on me and listening to my madness. Also for reading my Hotchniss fics even though you don’t even like that ship. Or listening to me talk about them

@davidrossi-ismydad: my dude... I never know what you’re doing when I get on here but you are so unhinged and just wild I love it. I just... I am constantly bewildered by you. As soon as I feel like I understand the vibes, no I don’t. Keep doing what you’re doing because it’s just amazing and I love it

@ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety: #morehotchcontent2020 was the best thing to ever happen to me and I love you for that. We don’t talk but you’re always very, very kind when I see you interacting with other people.

@yourlocalheartbreaker: AGH. You hurt me all the time. Every time we talk you’re like a cat dragging in a dead mouse and I’m stuck dealing with the emotional trauma of what you’ve done to poor hotch this time. You also give me some big old golden retriever vibes. You’re a blessing and never stop writing because we need all the hurt Hotch we can get (even if it really does hurt)

@criminalmindsgonewrong: I don’t even know what to say to you. I’m star struck whenever we engage even the smallest interactions. I’m blushing right now just thinking about you seeing this. It’s like... i don’t know how to explain it. You’re a goddess. I love you. Keep doing what you’re doing because you’re amazing and I love you

@thestrawberrygirl: I’d kill for you. Just say the word. I’ll literally protect you with my dying breath. You’re an angel. (If I meet that little shit making the Reid x reader comments on your fic I will literally cut them. you’re idea is brilliant and they’re a twat)

@laiba-the-person: NOTHING, NOTHING makes my day like when you leave whole ass paragraphs on my fics. I’d give you my heart if you asked. I’m not even sure you’d have to ask

@criminalminds-world: whenever you send me a message I just grin and shake my head. “My child lives” and I love our little interactions. You’re a gem and you deserve so much better pal.

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ejzah · 3 years

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A/N: I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this, but here’s yesterday’s Whumptober post since ff.net is still having issues off and on. Sorry for clogging up your feeds with all my posts about this.

***

“Deeks, sit rep!” Callen shouted over comms as Deeks grunted loudly in pain. It wasn’t the first time he’d requested an update. Deeks punched one of the two gunmen trying to corner him, slamming the guy into the concrete wall and managed a breathless,

“Oh, I’m fantastic.” The other guy, who had a severe buzz cut and three inches on Deeks, stalked closer while he surveyed the situation. He’d lost his gun fighting the first gunman; it had flown somewhere across the room. It was too far away for Deeks to make a run for it and he was only armed with his knife now. “Actually, some back up might be nice,” he decided.

“Ok, we’re on our way.” As he dropped into a crouch to avoid his opponent’s roundhouse kick, Deeks hoped they came quickly.

***

“Stay down!” Deeks shouted, digging his knee into his opponent’s back. The guy kept jerking, nearly dislodging Deeks’ hold. It was taking all his strength to keep him down.

He panted as he leaned over the man. A couple of drops of blood fell from his nose, landing on the guy’s shirt, and spread into oblong dots.

The man underneath him roared and flipped onto his back, using the force to slam Deeks into the ground. His head made a sharp crack as it hit the concrete and Deeks instantly lost his grip, all his attention now focused on staying conscious.

He didn’t even see the first kick coming, but he certainly felt it. The breath rushed from his lungs and he gasped, curling into the fetal position for a second.

The guy must have been wearing steel-toed boots, because every kick felt like it was pulverizing Deeks’ insides. Deeks let his body go limp, not needing to fake his labored breathing.

He kicked Deeks in the stomach a couple more time, apparently just for the fun of it. Deeks didn’t move, letting his head fall back. His opponent looked over him and grinned, pulling out a sharp looking knife. As he bent forward, Deeks thrust himself forward and used the momentum to ram the man straight into a concrete pillar.

It was enough to stun him and Deeks dove for his gun, grasping the handle and rolling onto his back just as the door to the floor burst open and Sam rushed in, immediately followed by Callen and Kensi.

“On your knees!” Sam shouted, aiming his automatic rifle at Deeks’ opponent, who was just stumbling to his feet. He snarled, but dropped to his knees without a fight.

“Oh, sure. Now you come after I do all the work,” Deeks muttered breathlessly, wincing as he tried to sit up. Kensi rushed to his side, her hands quickly running over his torso as she eyed him with concerned.

“Deeks, are you ok? No, don’t get up,” she said, pressing on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. His head felt like someone had, well, shoved it into a wall and his ribs were on fire, but he didn’t think it was any worse than he’d had before.

“It sounded like he was knocking the crap out of you,” Callen commented, offering Deeks a hand.

“I, agh,” He gasped as his abdomen protested the sudden movement and stood in a hunched position for a minute, waiting for the pain to subside while Kensi hovered over him. “I was just, uh, lulling him into a false sense of security.”

“Sure you were,” Sam said as he finished handcuffing the Deeks’ opponent and jerked him to his feet. He glared at Deeks again, baring his teeth. Deeks winked at him and grinned, knowing that his teeth, coated with blood, would be a nasty sight.

“Kens, you take Deeks to the emergency. We’ll handle these two guys.”

As Kensi wrapped her arm around his waist, he tried not stumble.

***

Deeks shifted uncomfortably, stretching his torso to relieve some of the pressure. His trip to the ER had been uneventful with a diagnosis of bruised ribs, as he’d expected, and a couple stitches to his bottom lip.

The attending doctor, an overworked looking man who could have been anywhere between 30 and 40, had given him a script for prescription strength Tylenol. So far the three pills he’d taken hadn’t soaked in.

“You almost finished?” Kensi asked, coming up behind him and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I just need to send my after case, incident, and my injury reports to LAPD,” he said.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to fill out reports for two agencies.”

“Your sense of sympathy is remarkable,” Deeks drawled with a grin. He tilted his head back for a kiss and then turned back to his work.

It was after 8 by the time they got home and Deeks was absolutely wiped. It felt like every part of his body had been pummeled with a meat tenderizer. He gingerly tugged off his jacket, which reignited the fiery pain in his lower abdomen.

Kensi flipped on a few lights, took Monty for a quick bathroom trip, and then started rooting around in the fridge and cupboards.

“Ok, your choices are leftover Pho or my famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“I think I’ll pass on dinner,” he said, shuffling to the stairs. Kensi paused in the process of filling two bowls with soup, already having guessed his normal preference.

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I really just want to sleep.” He was exhausted and laying down sounded blissful.

Kensi frowned, but didn’t push any further and dumped one of the bowls back into the takeout container. She joined him at the foot of the stairs and gently wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

“Ok. I’ll be up in a little bit,” she told him, punctuating her words with a kiss. Deeks grinned for the first time in several hours. If he wasn’t so sore and tired, he would seriously consider starting something.

He ran his nose along the length of Kensi’s jaw and across her cheek. Kensi made an incredibly sexy sound in the back of her throat as he teased her lips apart. Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her thoroughly. Kensi’s arms came around him again, pulling him against her. He yelped at the sudden pain the slight pressure had caused in his entire abdomen.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insisted as Kensi instantly jerked away, her hands fluttering over him once again. “It’s just my ribs.”

“That’s not good, babe,” Kensi said with a frown. “If it still hurts this much tomorrow, I’m taking you back to the doctor.”

“I’ll feel better once I lay down.”

***

An hour or so later, Kensi had finished dinner, taken Monty for a quick walk, and paid a couple bills. She hadn’t heard any sound since Deeks went upstairs. When she checked their room, she found him laying on his back amid a nest of pillows.

She was reassured to see him sound asleep. Careful not to wake him, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm and smelled faintly of sweat and blood. He must have been extremely tired to forego a shower.

She changed and slipped into bed beside him, resting a hand on his chest. Deeks sighed a little in his sleep, but didn’t move.

Kensi woke up suddenly, blinking in the darkness. She automatically swept her hand over Deeks’ side of the bed and found it empty.

Frowning, she sat up and glanced around the room, noticing the stream of light coming from under the bathroom door. There was nothing unusual about Deeks using the bathroom in the middle of the night, but her stomach clenched with unexpected foreboding as she approached the door.

“Babe, you ok in there?” she asked quietly, tapping on the door. He didn’t answer so she tapped again and heard the unmistakable sound of retching. She yanked the door open without and gasped as she saw him bent over the toilet. “Deeks,” she murmured, rushing to his side.

He weakly turned his head, his eyes glassy and skin visibly sweaty. Kensi brushed his damp hair back from his forehead, her concern mounting as she felt his burning skin. She didn’t need a thermometer to know he had a fever.

“I don’t feel very good,” he mumbled hoarsely, flinching as he shifted minutely.

“How bad does your stomach hurt?”

“It’s killing me. I took some antacids, but it just made it worse.” His words were becoming more slurred and his head drooped. “Feels like something’s gonna explode.”

Kensi wrapped her arms around his torso, easing him back against her chest. He still whimpered, his entire body shaking with the effort to support himself at all. This was definitely more than just bruised ribs.

She lifted his damp shirt, revealing his stomach and upper chest.

“Oh my god,” she murmured. Dark, almost black bruises covered the majority of his abdomen. They were the worst on his right, lower side. “Ok, we need to get to the hospital now.”

“Ok,” he muttered, not questioning her. His face drained of color as he pushed himself up on shaking arms and for a moment Kensi was worried he was going to pass out.

She helped him sit on the bed, reluctant to leave him alone. He seemed unaware of her worry, consumed with holding himself upright, one arm loosely wrapped around his middle.

“I’m going to grab your shoes and the keys. Don’t move.”

By the time they were on their way to the hospital, Kensi could tell that the pain was getting worse. She sped down the quiet streets of their neighborhood, praying that an unsuspecting police officer wouldn’t try to pull them over.

“Ok, baby, we’re almost there,” she told him, more for her own sake than his, as she parked haphazardly in front of the emergency entrance. Deeks made it through the door on his own, but Kensi knew the effort had cost him. She got him situated in a chair in the waiting area and he groaned again, curling in on himself.

There was one nurse on duty behind the front desk, paging through a file. She didn’t look up as Kensi approached, consumed with her task. Kensi smacked her hand against the top of the counter and the nurse looked up in dismay and then annoyance.

“My husband needs to be checked out immediately,” Kensi said, gesturing to where Deeks was stretched into an awkward position in an attempt to find some relief. “He was kicked in the stomach earlier today and now he has severe bruising and stomach pain.”

Picking up on the urgency in her tone, the nurse pulled a stethoscope from around her neck and hurried towards Deeks.

“When did you say he was kicked?” she asked. Deeks didn’t resist when she lifted his shirt and pressed the chest piece to his lower abdomen. He jerked reflexively when she pushed a little harder, gripping the arm of the chair so tightly his nails bit into the fabric.

“Um, about 12 hours ago.”

“Any other symptoms?”

“He has a fever and nausea. He threw up earlier. We went to the ER and the doctor said it was just bruised ribs, but I think it’s something else,” Kensi explained, feeling helpless as the nurse gave Deeks a cursory examination.

“Does it hurt when I push here?” She directed this question to Deeks, who hissed loudly when she lightly palpitated the most bruised area.

“Son-of-a,” he muttered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said grimly, turning back to Kensi. “I’ll have someone bring a wheelchair and get a doctor to see your husband as soon as possible. You can fill out his paperwork while we wait.”

***

Kensi walked down the hall, chewing on her bottom lip as she clutched Deeks’ phone to her chest. A doctor had come to evaluate Deeks about 20 minutes after they arrived and after another brief examination and a few questions, ordered a CT scan.

The doctor hadn’t seemed overly concerned until the results had come back. Then all hell broke loose. Suddenly Deeks was transferred to a gurney while the doctor pulled her aside and quickly explained that he thought Deeks was suffering from internal bleeding or a ruptured organ. She’d barely had time to kiss Deeks before he was wheeled off for emergency surgery.

Kensi had been pacing ever since; she was exhausted, but if she sat down, she knew the fear would overwhelm her. God, she hadn’t even had the chance to say “I love you” and her mind was filled with the image of his sweaty, pained face.

“Mrs. Deeks?” She spun around, rushing over to the doctor who performed Deeks’ surgery.

“Dr. Andrews, is he alright?” she demanded.

“We had to remove his appendix, but the surgery went well.”

“His appendix,” Kensi repeated and Dr. Andrews nodded.

“The trauma he received inflamed his appendix and over the course of the day, the organ became infected, causing acute appendicitis,” he explained, handing her a image from the CT scan and indicating the spot where his appendix had been. It was a darkened mass that Kensi, even with her limited knowledge, knew should not be there.

“Oh my god.” She could only imagine the force Deeks was kicked with to cause that type of damage and she felt slightly nauseous.

“Some of the surrounding tissue and other organs sustained fairly significant inflammation as well, so we will want to monitor him for a couple days.”

“So he could need more surgery?” she asked a little faintly.

“In my professional opinion, it’s unlikely. We just want to be sure.” When Kensi continued to look worried, he touched her shoulder, his expression kindly. “Your husband is going to be fine,” he assured her. “You can go in and see him now if you’d like.”

He was still unconscious when she entered his room, attached to several IV’s and a heart monitor, with an oxygen mask over his face.

She stepped right up to the bed, but hesitated to touch him. He looked so fragile with all the wires trailing from his body and a large white bandage covering a good portion of his midsection. She contented herself with running her fingers through his hair.

His eyes fluttered at her touch, opening completely when she gently cupped his cheek. Slowly Deeks opened his eyes completely, glancing around the room in mild confusion before he landed on her.

“Hey,” he murmured hoarsely. He frowned at the oxygen mask and clumsily took it off.

“Hey, baby. How’re you feeling?” she asked, tugging a chair towards the bed and sitting down.

“Like someone pulled my insides out and stuffed them back in.”

“Well, I guess they kind of did. They had to take your appendix out.”

“Huh.” He glanced down at his bare torso, poking at the bandage. “I wonder if I’ll have a big scar,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re going to be alright,” she said. Deeks gave her a lazy grin.

“But just think of my beautiful golden skin, marred by a big, nasty scar. The women will be mourning in the streets.”

“Oh my god, you are so stupid.” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his and rested her hand over the center of his chest, reassured by the steady beat of his heart. His skin was still a little warmer than normal. “I was really scared,” she whispered.

He laid his hand over hers, applying gentle pressure.

“Me too,” he admitted. “But I’m ok.” He shifted his head slightly and kissed her. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t explode.”

Kensi laughed wetly, cupping his cheek.

“Anytime.” They stayed like that for several minutes until Deeks started to blink sleepily. “Do you need anything?” she asked.

“I’m a little chilly.”

“I’ll see if there’s an extra blanket.” Deeks grabbed her hand a little tighter, tugging lightly.

“Or we could snuggle,” he suggested with an impish smirk. Kensi eyed his bandages, reluctant to risk hurting him. “Are you really going to let me lay here and freeze.” He lifted the edge of his blanket in a clear invitation. Rolling her eyes, Kensi crawled in beside him, carefully arranging her arms around him. When they were settled, Deeks sighed, pressing his nose into her hair.

It was hardly comfortable, with the safety bar digging into her back and the constant beeping, but Kensi was content to lie there all night. She’d nearly lost Deeks again and she wasn’t about to stray too far.

***

A/N: Am I playing fast and loose with science and medicine again? Why yes I am. While rare, blunt abdominal trauma has been known to cause appendicitis on occasion.

I also based Deeks’ symptoms on my own experience with a twisted ovary, which was originally misdiagnosed as appendicitis and a couple cousins who actually did have acute appendicitis and required surgery.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #sam hanna #g callen #but just in the beginning #deeks whump #hurt comfort #Whumptober #ejzah fanfiction

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dreamcatcherfication · 4 years

Text

The Girl Who Cried Wolf

Another requested fic! Anon asked “Anne loves her fun/carefree/’gremlin’ reputation - but what happens when people just stop taking her seriously?” I feel like this is awfully accurate for a April Fools Post... I’m not sure what happened with this one, but I hope it has a coherent plot, my brain feels like scrambled eggs right now. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors my brain feels like - well - scrambled eggs right now.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas (now featuring random asks). If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Random Asks

Trigger Warnings: Blood, vomit, hospitals, stomach sicknesses

“AGH! Help me!” Anne called, clutching her stomach in pain. “I’m - I’m -”

Kat was immediately at Anne’s side, holding the prone girl in her arms. “Annie, Annie what’s wrong!” she cried, clearly in distress by Anne’s pain.

Anne wailed and rolled into a ball. The other queens circled her, all of them silent and terrified of whatever was hurting Anne. “You have to help me,” Anne gasped, grabbing Kat’s hand.

“I will Annie!” Kat promised her cousin, pulling her closer.

Mumbling, Anne motioned for Kat to come closer. When she was close enough, Anne whispered, “My stomach.”

Frantically moving her attention down to Anne’s stomach, Kat bit her lip. Anne had her hands covering her stomach, making it impossible for Kat to see what was wrong. Leaning forward, she noticed a tinge of red around Anne’s hand. Gasping, Kat lifted Anne’s hands to see the wound.

Squeaking in surprise, Kat jerked back when Anne threw her hands forward and splashed blood all over Kat. The blood went everywhere and Anne started laughing at Kat’s shocked face. Sitting up, Anne wiped her bloody hands on her shirt, perfectly fine. “Oh, you should’ve seen your face,” she continued to laugh.

Kat’s head was down as she tried to hide tears in her eyes. “Annie?”

“What the hell was that, Anne?” Aragon demanded from behind the girl.

“Paint!” Anne held up her red hands. “Totally worth it too.”

Frowning, Jane disappointingly shook her head. “That was uncalled for, Anne.”

“Whaddya mean?” Anne smirked, standing up and going to the kitchen sink to wash off the paint.

“You scared Kat half to death,” Anna accused, kneeling down next to her best friend.

Anne didn’t quite grasp why they were all so upset. To her it was just a prank, not a big deal. “You guys aren’t actually mad, are you?” Anne gestured about incredulously.

“Yes, Anne.” The beheaded queen could almost swear Cathy looked disgusted with her. “I would think you of all people would know not to go too far, especially with blood.”

There was a moment of silence before Anne realized what she had done. “Oh, KitKat, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine Anne,” the girl mumbled, still staring at the floor.

Part of Anne wanted to continue and try to apologize to her cousin, but the unimpressed glares of all the other queens kept her from it. “Alright. I’ll um, I’ll be in my room.” Bolting away from the scene, Anne ran up to her room in the attic. Shutting the door, she flopped onto her bed. God, had she ruined another good thing? Would the others ever forgive her? Sure, they had forgiven her in the past, but what if she’d pushed it too far?

Unable to find the courage to reconcile with them, Anne stayed in her room for the rest of the night and the following day. She snuck down at midnight to eat some dinner (frozen cookie dough is fine, right?) before returning to her room silently. That’s the way it continued for the next few days, none of the queens willing to talk to Anne after her poorly planned prank.

It seemed to be working pretty well until Anne woke up with a serious pain in her stomach. There was a churning that made her feel absolutely terrible and nauseous. She knew period and gas cramps, but this was neither. She felt like irons were stabbing into her stomach at every movement. Laying in bed, Anne stared at the ceiling, trying to distract herself. But the pain was so overwhelming that there was no way to even fathom thinking of anything else.

Debating her options, Anne decided it was best to go and get help. Even if the other queens were mad at her, they had always been caring, sometimes overly so. Stumbling down the stairs, Anne had a hand on the railing and another clutching her stomach. “Anne?” Jane called, seeing the pale girl. Then her eyes fell upon the hand covering Anne’s stomach, and her expression dropped. “Really? Again so soon? Didn’t you learn your lesson last time.”

Aragon looked up from her newspaper and glared at Anne. “No, it’s for real this time,” Anne grunted.

“Sure, like it was real last time,” Aragon spit and turned back to her paper.

Shocked, Anne stopped on her way down the stairs. They didn’t believe her? Why wouldn’t they believe her? Couldn’t they see she was in pain? “What?” Anne groaned out.

Neither Jane nor Aragon were convinced, and they refused to pay Anne any attention. Feeling someone pass her on the stairs, Anne turned and made eye contact with Cathy. “Cathy, you’ll help me, right?”

Raising an eyebrow, Cathy glanced down at Anne’s hand cautiously. “And get what, fake vomit all over me? I think I’ll pass, Anne.”

Reaching a hand out, the beheaded queen tried to stop Cathy before she joined the other two queens downstairs. Apparently, Anne was out of luck, and she was ignored by her fellow queens. Grunting, Anne turned around and made her way back up the stairs. If they wouldn’t help her, she would help herself. Starting with some rest. Anne was feeling very, very tired.

So very tired, now that she thought about it. Barely making it to her room, Anne fumbled with the doorknob. She pushed her body weight against the door and collapsed on the ground. Slowly, everything around her started to fade to black as the world spun and spun and spun. The last thing she heard was her door clicking closed behind her.

Downstairs, Kat had just come out of the bathroom and was surprised to see the disgruntled faces of all the other queens. Anna was laying on the couch, mindlessly flipping through television channels, but Aragon, Jane, and Cathy kept sharing annoyed faces with each other. “What’s wrong?” Kat asked, making her way over to the kitchen table.

“Nothing to worry about, dear,” Jane covered up, pretending as if she had been smiling.

Unconvinced, Kat turned to Cathy. “What’s wrong?” she asked again.

“Anne came down asking for help while holding her stomach,” Cathy deadpanned.

Kat bit her lip and anxiously scuffed her foot on the ground. “We should check up on her.”

“And risk what happened last time?” Aragon scoffed. “No way.”

Anna called from over on the couch, “It’s not worth it liebling. She’ll realize sooner or later that her pranks aren’t funny.”

Still, Kat couldn’t help but worry that maybe, just maybe her cousin wasn’t lying this time. Even if she was constantly the target of Anne’s pranks, Kat knew it was because she was the easiest to trick. But her conscience wouldn’t let her rest until she knew Anne was safe, even if it meant getting pranked again. Kat ignored the calls of the other queens as she made her way up to Anne’s room.

Knocking on the door, Kat received no response. Of course she knew this was the start to every horror movie, and she was the ditzy cheerleader about to get murdered, but Kat pushed open Anne’s door anyway. Yelping when she almost tripped over something, Kat screamed for help when she saw what it was.

Unconscious on the floor was Anne, bloody vomit dribbling out of her mouth. Kat dropped down next to her, checking to see if Anne was breathing. A nagging in the back of her mind that sounded vaguely like the other queens told her it was an elaborate prank, but Kat’s own mind didn’t agree. Anne looked terribly pale and sick, her skin sweaty and her body shivering.

Anna burst through the door first, expecting to find more blood on Kat, but was instead surprised to see Anne actually sick. “I’ll call an ambulance,” Anna mumbled out, embarrassed that she had allowed Anne’s pain to be dismissed.

The last three queens came up together, standing at the door in guilty shock. “What did we do?” Jane asked quietly, her eyes wide as saucers.

“Anne will be okay,” Aragon assured her, putting a hand on her back. She held out her other arm and pulled Cathy into her hug, the final queen unable to speak as she watched Kat huddle with her cousin.

Rushing back into the room with a phone in her hand, Anna nodded at the others. “Ambulance is outside. They’re gonna take care of her.”

The ride to the hospital was grueling for Kat who had to watch her cousin fade in and out of consciousness. Anne seemed to have no coherent sense of what was happening, her fever running high and her mind delirious. As soon as they reached the hospital, Anne was carted off to some doctor while Kat met up with the other queens who had driven behind the ambulance. “Do you have any idea what’s wrong with her?” Jane asked as soon as Kat was within earshot.

Shrugging, Kat crossed her arms around her chest. “They said it was probably a stomach illness. Something she ate.”

The queens all shared knowing looks. “Of course if she’s left alone to eat, Anne’s going to choose something that’ll get her sick,” Aragon rolled her eyes, covering up the panic she felt when thinking about Anne’s safety.

In one big huddle, they sat together in the waiting area, hoping to get any news on Anne soon. It didn’t take long, and one of the white-jacket doctors came out. “Family of Anne Boleyn?”

“That’s us!” Cathy claimed, sticking her hand in the air.

The doctor frowned but made his way over to them. “You’re all related to her?” he asked in disbelief.

“I’m her cousin,” Kat explained.

“But we’re all her family,” Anna insisted.

The doctor shrugged but didn’t push any further. “Well she’s right down the hall if you want to visit her. One at a time,” he made sure they were clear. “She’ll be fine. Just a really bad cause of the stomach flu it seems. Miss Boleyn will be released within the next couple days.” Almost in unison, all the queens let out a sigh of relief. Anne was okay.

Anne was going to be okay.

Silently, it was agreed upon that Kat would be the one to visit Anne first. She followed the doctor to Anne’s room and thanked him when he left her alone with her cousin. “Hey Anne,” Kat greeted quietly from the doorway. “Can I come in?”

Anne was still a little bit woozy, but she nodded, wanting Kat with her. “Yeah, you can come in. Although I hear the chairs are really uncomfortable.”

Standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, Kat fiddled with her hands. “I’m sorry we didn’t believe you,” she blurted out. “You needed help and we didn’t help you.”

Chuckling humorlessly, Anne did her best to ease her cousin’s worries. “It’s fine. It’s my fault you didn’t believe me, and it’s my fault I got sick. Besides, you found me and called for help.”

Still unsure, Kat took a step closer to Anne’s bed. “I was so worried. I almost didn’t check on you because I thought it was another prank -”

“I don’t blame you,” Anne sighed. She patted her bed, urging Kat to sit with her. The younger girl complied, sitting at Anne’s feet. “I pulled a really insensitive prank, and I took it too far. Believe it or not, but I get it. If I were you, I wouldn’t take me seriously either. So don’t even think about blaming yourself for any of this.”

There was hesitation on Kat’s face, but she nodded. “If I don’t blame myself, then you have to promise me one thing.”

“Sure, Kat.”

“You can’t blame yourself either.” Kat grabbed Anne’s hand and pleaded with her. “It’s no one’s fault but that stupid virus.”

Laughing, Anne agreed. “Things must really suck for us then, huh KitKat?”

“Yeah, we do have a pretty bad history with luck.” The two cousins shared a grin. “But are you going to pull another prank like that?”

Mulling it over, Anne let out a noncommittal noise. “I can’t make promises for future Anne,” she offered cheekily.

“Fair, fair,” Kat put her hands up in surrender.

The two cousins shared a look and smiled softly, just glad they could be in each others’ company. “It’s no one’s fault,” Anne repeated, squeezing Kat’s hand. “And that goes for you too!” She shouted, peeking around Kat. “I know you’re listening.”

Shamefully, the other four queens revealed themselves in the doorway after their failed attempt at spying. “We’re glad you’re okay Anne,” Jane smiled, worry draining from her features.

“I’m glad I’m okay too.” And they all laughed together.

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

@annabanana2401

@boleynhowards

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #sixfic #anon request #anne boleyn centric #katherine howard is pretty big too #beheaded cousins #the others are there too #tw: blood #but not that much #tw: vomit #tw: stomach sickness #anne goes too far #i am so sleep deprived it's not even funny #the bags under my eyes are the size of my eyes

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jae-canikeepyou · 4 years

Text

| bad boy | j.jh | sequel

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader genre: au t/w: slight violence and blood. a/n: a sequel was requested for this scenario & to be very honest i thought it’s best to leave as it was.. but who am i to turn down my lovely readers? 🥰 as promised, here it is! blame my lazy butt for procrastinating to post it. it’s not proof read too woohoo! 😂 anyway, enjoy! :3 ~j

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“...i’ll be happy to see you again.”

it was the only sentence that stuck into the back of your mind. a similar feeling to when you liked someone and his very existence wouldn’t just leave you alone. you thought you might go insane because every time you think of nothing at all, that dimpled smile of his reappears and your brain immediately sends all kinds of signals that maybe science couldn’t explain, let alone you.

the students who walked pass you and him had questionable stares. you were well aware that jaehyun was fresh from returning back to town; though according to him it only had been two years. even the faces of the neighbourhood gave scoffs and looks of disbelief; unconvinced that he had changed for ‘the better’. honestly people still avoided him— maybe it was due to the fact he wasn’t seen as often by day, only at dusk.. doing stuff that jaehyun himself chose not to remember.

coming out of the university, an annoying tug on the shoulder caused you to turn around to identify the doer, jolting you back to reality from your thoughts. however the tug was too familiar that you already knew who it was, even with eyes closed. he bugged you during training— though it was not in a bad way.

the regretful look on his face made you pinch his cheeks with his dimples as the support. he was one good-looking lad with now good intentions to help people. ever since that encounter with him at the alley, he never really left your side; stuck with you like glue. your parents joked about how he was as loyal as a golden retriever would be to his owner. he followed you everywhere and even if you didn’t mind, you had to remind him about boundaries.

and boundaries meant when he accidentally followed you to the toilet that one time.

leaving that aside, jaehyun smiled and this adorable puppy with chocolate eyes made you snap your fingers. “jaehyun, i told you not to stare at me like that.”

“why can’t i? i already told you you’re pretty.” he smirked, nudging a tease with his brows. “it’s worth staring at, even for a whole day.”

“uh-huh.” you hum in faux agreement. “and you told me that a month ago, which was after your friends broke my door. you’ve been calling me that nonstop.”

“it’ll approximately be thirty two- no, thirty three times i complimented you, today included.” jaehyun took your bag with him. as gentleman as it sounds, your own friends once had to pull your stuff away from him when he did the kind gesture the first time.

“hey, give it.” you attempted to retrieve it back when he raised it higher.

“maybe i’ll consider if you give me a kiss.” he poked his cheek, leaning into your face. you gave him a disgusted look before it turned out to be more so when he pointed his lips instead.

“in your dreams jaehyun.” you rolled your eyes, nudging him to leave the training centre.

you both spent the next two hours chilling at a local coffee shop, doing some recaps of what you learnt earlier. to your surprise, jaehyun was actually quite studious. it was a little difficult to approach him whenever you had questions. who knew that behind the acronym the townspeople gave him, ‘bad boy’, was a very hardworking and intelligent guy. sometimes you would think he was a real-life manhwa character, where he’d ace a test despite worrying over whether he’d flunk it.

on the bright side of jaehyun’s reputation to everyone, some students would arrive in crowds after your training; which was, how you’d call it, fanbase. they’d usually giggle to themselves and ask for a picture, but jaehyun declined their requests.

whilst at the café with chill jazz music playing, and despite feeling uneasy and worried for no reason at all, jaehyun sighed deeply, indirectly asking to call it a day— it was already 10 pm. every friday night, he’d go with you to the orphanage to read books to the children; or go along with them to give medical care with a stethoscope just to satisfy the curiosity of the kids.

jaehyun fumbled his bag to look for his keys. you waited for the lad, skimming through the university’s fountain and statue. you looked at the far distance, and the unease came back just when you thought it went away. “okay i got them. let’s go.” he tapped to us shoulders.

you soon hopped onto his car, fastening your seatbelt as you propped your arm onto the edge of the window rest. “tired? me too.” you heard jaehyun ask, his car keys clashing towards each other before being put onto its place.

“yeah i kinda am.” you lied, still having that uneasiness stuck in your chest. at the night you met jaehyun, you would say that the encounter with the screwed-up man traumatised you; the sound of gunfire rang in your ears, the man’s grip onto your wrists left a bruise, jaehyun’s flirtatious moves to his favourite couple’s daughter.

“well, we can go to the riverside if that’s what you’re looking for. tell your parents we’ll visit the kids next week and that you’re on a date with me.” he started the engine, rubbing your head with the other hand as he began to drive.

“a date with you? i’ve got other priorities.” you eyed him with a grin.

“change it then. put me on your top 5 or something.” his proud giggles put a confused look on your face and his lips flattened quickly at your response. jaehyun hoped you at least felt butterflies, but maybe it hasn’t developed yet. “what? i gotta be on your list somehow.”

“oh wow jaehyun you’re really determined.” you soothed your temples and he just laughed. “fine, uh. top 10?”

“agh man i gotta work nine bars higher to be your top 1.” he faked a hiss, earning an airy scoff from you.

“you’re not gonna be my top 1. my mom and dad are. education’s second.”

“then third?”

“no. that’s my bunny’s place.”

“ugh bunbun’s before me.” he whined. “anyway i’m gonna be part of your top 5.”

the car turned to a much narrower road. jaehyun insisted it was the shortcut and that the longer way was going to take minutes. not like you wanted to assume highly of how he knew some paths, but maybe he had dealings or encounters before at 17 years of age. heck that was him in the past. he was different now.

he reached out to the stereo and made a few taps onto the touch screen, sliding his fingers to the side to maximise the volume. it was a playlist full of jazzy, chilling instrumental tracks to hype up the mood and taking your heads off of studying. you never really heard him sing before, but you knew he was a good one in just humming.

as you listened with the playlist he tuned in, your eyes stayed on the road for a good minute before the car’s side view mirror flickered with lights, catching your attention. to be exact, they were red laser lights.

was something there? or were you just tired?

you brushed it off, telling yourself continuously that it was a result of staying behind the laptop screen too long. jaehyun didn’t seem to notice so maybe it was really just you. the car finally reached a stoplight, you sighed heavily at its disappearance when you looked at the mirror of your side.

but then it flashed again.

as if you both were being followed.

jaehyun spotted your discomposure and the frequent shuffles in positions to find comfort of the seat. “y/n, need a break? wait a little because we’re almost there-”

“i- i think we’re being followed.” you find your palms clenching the sides of the seat, avoiding to look at the mirror again. the feeling you had that night at the dark alley came back; chest pounding and breaths so uneven. you didn’t tell jaehyun what you felt that night and kept it to yourself so of course he wouldn’t know of your situation now.

jaehyun’s brows creased inquisitionly, his pupils shifted to his side of the mirror in an instant. they grew wider at the sight of a familiar vehicle and logo that was overlapping the car brand. he thought he’d never see them once more, but unluckily he did tonight. he cursed in whispers and although he said it softly, those alone made your worries shoot up like rockets. the circular light emitted green. you felt your body being pressed back against the seat at the force and speed jaehyun drove. “we’re gonna have to skip the date and rush home, okay?”

he tapped the stereo’s touchscreen to mute the track that coincidentally matched the tension you both were feeling now. “you’re driving fast~” you said with your sarcastic singing. a hum from him raised a tad more worry. “why are you driving fast~”

he only chuckled.

“jaehyun, the only time you drive fast is when we receive an medical emergency!” you panicked in all high pitches your voice could ever give.

“uh- this is kind of an emergency y/n!” he still gave a giggle despite being in a frenzy.

“it’s not medical! we’re not in the ambo!” you huffed in excessive breaths to attempt to calm yourself.

“i know but-”

gunshot.

it wasn’t once.

it was five times at most.

you gasped then squealed, unsure whether to cover yourself with your forearms or still hold onto the seat. jaehyun pulled over the car to a stop, making you shiver and the feeling went down to your spine then palms while your grip tightened onto the seatbelt. you let the window on your side lower for some air. it might seemed strange to some people passing by, but you were muttering words as if you were enchanting a spell to summon the supernatural; where as in fact you were really, really scared.

at times like these, all you wanted to do was to head home and forget that this ever happened.

“why did you stop?” you asked, sounding panicky and jaehyun didn’t seem to do the same. “we’re being chased and you decide to-”

the scratch of the tire from the vehicle following you hit from behind, plunging both of your torsos to the front and stretched the seatbelts. your eyes blurred for second and as the clear began to come in, jaehyun signalled you to bend low. when you obliged and cowered down, he took off his jacket and placed it above you. “y/n, don’t get off the car. i got this.” you felt that he grabbed something from the drawer in front of him, later putting it in his pockets.

you hitched a breath. “w-why? where are you going?!”

“shhh.. if you did, i won’t forgive you.” he warned and closed the door.

“stop cutting me off!” you gave a little tantrum that you hit your head onto the pull-out drawer. “stupid jaehyun!”

you heard mumbles of exchanged dialogues between jaehyun and two late twenties men. the patience you’ve always had had run out and carefully your fingers pulled the door handle to head out. soon you found yourself tiptoeing and crouching all at the same time; just like how you used to sneak to the kitchen at midnight to grab some snacks. the air was cool, much to your surprise jaehyun and the two men were just, talking.

in the two weeks since knowing jaehyun, you hesitated in asking more of his past. not that you couldn’t tolerate the endless stares and whispers from the public, but you were just curious about the man who evolved to b.a.d boy.

“jaehyun.” you whisper-yelled but there was no response from him. he had his hands behind him. though relaxed, there was tension shown in them. based on his gestures he knew of your presence. his hands formed to a ‘thumbs up’; turning sideways, telling you to head back into the car.

you had your palms onto the door handle when the conversation became clear to you.

“what're you both doing here?” he asked the two men, later their surnames revealed to be park and jang. “i thought i said i’m resigning.”

“you resigned before boss made his decision. he wants you back in the group.” park said, handing him an envelope. “accept this and you’ll get all you asked for; your own room at the base, the money from-”

jaehyun took the envelope and tore them to pieces. “i’m not going back to that life ever. knowing you lot, pisses me off up until now, you tried luring me into dirty money.”

it wasn’t like you wanted to get involved with jaehyun. it just seemed you were just caught in the wrong time and in the wrong moment. even that night in the dark alley. you mumbled and grumbled to yourself, profanities spoken internally that maybe you shouldn’t have heard something so private-

“then i could just guess you’re now using her for dirty money?” jang caught your collar and pulled you from behind the car. “you really think you could earn money without our help huh.”

“y/n, i told you not to come out.” he turned around so quickly that the scowl from his lips made you regret breaking that order.

“who do we have here? jaehyun you seem to get yourself a hottie-” park walked closer to where you were.

“let me go.” you spat him, disgusted at their assumption.

“let y/n go, she has nothing to do with this.” jaehyun grabbed your arm, putting you behind his large, broad frame.

“sure will, jung. but she has something to do with you.” park laughed, his hands reached for his pocket. jaehyun didn’t seem to see that, but you were aware where this might escalate to. you plunged forward that you were in front him, hugging him fully before your friend realized the frightful action.

bang. bang.

the tightness and uneasiness in your chest wasn’t the car chase nor the two men, nor the fired gunshots.

it was the men’s bloodlust for jaehyun.

they cursed and yelled as they left the scene, saying that they meant to shoot him, not you. it took a while for jaehyun to process what had happened. he looked down at your collapsing body, blood dampening his hands as he touched the wound to stop it from bleeding further. “y/n?.. y/n! stay with me, okay? don’t you dare close your eyes on me!”

he saw you attempting to caress his cheek with a pained smile before it turned emotionless.

“y/n!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it had been exactly a week since you were shot, because of that jaehyun avoided you. people looked at ease when they saw you alone and you weren’t used to it. he would always be there every second of the day, either already buying you lunch or carrying your bag. not even your parents heard of him when after jaehyun brought you to your apartment. having parents work in the medical field sure was convenient.

the morning’s sun shone your room and you stood in front of your mirror, still in your pj’s. turning slightly to the side, you lifted the fabric to see the two sets of stitches just below the bra strap line. your mom knocked onto your door, smiling in relief at the sight of recovery. “breakfast’s ready.”

you smiled back, remembering the worries plastered on their faces. in most cases, a patient would want to see their parents once they came into the conscious. for you however, wanted to see jaehyun. “yeah i’ll be down soon.”

the smell of toast and hot chocolate smacked you in the nose and you started walking slowly down the stairs. your groggy eyes caught sight of the one you didn’t want to see. “ah, she’s awake.” your dad nudged the male. jaehyun looked up at the loft, his ears shading from pink to red.

he gulped, and your dad laughed. “wow that was loud. chill jae, she’s walking down the stairs, not the aisle.”

“i didn’t think of that, sir.”

jaehyun got up from the dinning area to help you. his fingers felt the bandage wrapped around your torso and immediate guilt flushed his body. “y/n i-”

“don’t apologize. it wasn’t your fault.” you smiled and he flattened his lips, surprised that you knew what he was about to say. as you sat down, your parents were all dressed and ready for work. “i just got here and you’re leaving me alone?”

“that’s why we called jaehyun here. he lives just across the street. we’ll see you tonight sweetheart.”

silence consumed the house once the door shut to a close. jaehyun rested comfortably on the chair with his arms behind his head. hungry as you were, you began to eat, cautious and carefully. you told yourself you should be used to having him around. however, it was today that you felt nervous. even his exhales got you on the edge. you tried to look at him, only to avert your eyes immediately when he caught you. “how’s the wound?” he asked.

“well i never thought i’d experience it myself before i’d treat actual patients.” you said, soon grasping the situation that you didn’t mean to put it directly at him. “ah i’m not saying this because i blame you for what happened-”

“i know, but.. you did treat me when i was shot.” jaehyun took a sip of his cup. “so your answer’s invalid.”

“you asked the damned question jaehyun!” you scoffed and slight stood from your chair.

jaehyun saw a brief shade of pale onto your lips and went beside you. you looked up to see him with eyebrows narrowed. “get up, i’m checking your wound.”

“my wounds are perfectly fine! mom just fixed it.” you angrily munched on your toast when he suddenly knelt on the floor, back facing you. “what the heck are doing?”

“i’m giving you a piggyback ride.” his hands gestured you to get on.

“what am i, five?” you ignored his offer.

“what are you, ms. stubborn? if you move now, you’ll widen the already opened incision.” he finally turned around to carry you and when he placed you on the sofa, he grabbed the first aid.

“this is so awkward.” you sat in front of jaehyun as you lifted your shirt.

“not at all. i’m treating a stubborn patient who apparently is very cranky early in the morning.” he carefully cut the surgical tape and held his breath when he saw the two stitches from gunshot wounds onto your flesh. “look about this..”

you waited for him to speak, but he didn’t continue further and treated the wounds. “why are you blaming yourself?”

“because you got hurt.” he gently dabbed with a cotton. “when it was supposed to be me. i didn’t see that he already got it out and before i know it, blood was spilled.”

“but you didn’t pull the trigger.” you bent your head down.

“but i’m the cause why it triggered, okay?!” he raised his voice, making you flinch at his tone from behind. “i ran away from my past so that i could live a good one! yet it still haunts me and every where i go, i’m always caught in their web! it’s been like this! then when i met you, i was afraid and i knew that i’ll eventually put you in harm’s way. deep inside me, i saw it as a sign that being with you might protect me, that they wouldn’t do anything to me when you’re with me. then when the gun fired, there you were saving me from my mistakes and-”

you felt a heavy weight onto your head, teardrops dampening the nape of your neck. “i’m so sorry y/n..”

“you really *coughs* are a bad boy.” you said so suddenly that jaehyun shot up. your coughs made him to kneel in front of you, checking if you were alright.

“what?” he asked.

“a baby and dumb boy.” you giggled through breaths and though it got him taken aback, he was assured, somehow. “did i ever blame you for the gunshots? did i say it was you who hurt me? i never thought of you as the guy everyone thought they saw two years ago. so why are you still sticking with the fact that i might change after that night? i know you grabbed a gun too, but you didn’t bring it out. if you ran away from the past that just means you’re willing move forward to the new. if you’re afraid of ever hurting me, i know fully that you’ll never do that.”

he sat onto the carpet waiting for your next words; like a golden retriever, you told yourself. “i was looking for you when i woke up and besides, when i took the bullet.. it’s kind of..” you paused. “..returning the favor for saving me too? if you were shot, it might ease the people who were judgmental of you but.. not me. i wouldn’t be able to sleep if that happened you know? like-”

you saw his torso moving closer to yours. it was brief, but you saw the warmest smile from his lips before he hugged you. his hands caressed your head as if he was doing it to a child. “ah.. so i topped first?”

“ha?”

“i was your top 1 after all.” he smiled that his cheeks formed those damned dimples. “you thought of me before your parents and bunbun.”

“n-no! i mean i-it’s normal, right? the last person i saw before fainting was you so i-”

jaehyun rather than listening to your excuses longer, he preferred to hug you before you catch his ear turning redder. when he let go of you, his eyes twinkled as if a shooting star reflected in them.

“y/n, do you know you’re extra pretty when you’re flustered?” he teased, going back to treating your wound.

dumbfounded, you scoffed at his easy-goingness. “do you know you’re extra flirty when you think i like you?”

“you don't like me?” he whimpered how a puppy would do.

“i don’t.” you replied so proudly.

“that’s so mean.” he began to take the scissors to trim off the extra strand of tape. “i compliment you all-”

you closed the gap in between. “i love you.” you closed your eyes as you said the three words you planned not to tell him.

jaehyun gasped but he smiled afterwards. “my dream’s granted already?”

“urgh don’t make me more embarrassed than i already am jaehyun! i hate it when you’re always having fun and-”

“i love you too.”

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