#little too teasing. a little too affectionate and with far too many hidden implications under it for Genos to process

[jaijaitbinks]

Been thinking of an au idea because all day I've been wanting to sing but couldn't cuz of classes. The AU can basically be summarized as "Saitama: Hero by day, Singer by night"

He has his heroing hobby—he loves it, even if it's not as fun as it used to be. But sometimes, when he comes home to his monster-infested, abandoned little neighborhood on the outskirts of Z City, it's too quiet. Desolate. He likes the silence, the lack of cars and people and crimes and noise. But late at night, when the streets are dark and only every other street lamp is on, he feels like he's just sitting in a void. And he fears that void will consume him someday.

Also, the empty streets give a sligh echo and it sounds nice. So, at night, he just sits on the ledge of his balcony and sings. Sometimes it's old songs he wrote back in high school, sometimes it's covers. Sometimes it's a capella, sometimes he grabs his 6-year old guitar and plays along.

In the quiet, hidden away behind wreckage and isolated buildings, monsters come out to listen. Some out of curiosity, some because they like his voice (although he doesn't get why). He doesn't mind them cuz they don't do anything—just hide away during the day, and listen to him during the night.

One day, Genos learns of a monster-infested town on the edge of Z-City. As a bringer of justice and protector of the people (not officially), he goes there. He hopes to find traces of the Mad Cyborg in such a place. He walks for hours through the streets, watching as they go from brightly lit to dark, impossible to navigate through if he hadn't had the ability to see in the dark (and the occasional street lamps). Watches as shopping districts become broken down or abandoned homes and once-quaint shops. Eventually, he starts to hear a voice. He hears singing.

Of course, his immediate thought is that it might be a monster. Some kind of monster that uses singing as a weapon, maybe?

So he takes care to approach the source slowly, slow and quiet and cautious. In the corner of his eyes he sees creatures skittering, more and more of them showing and disappearing the closer he gets. He knows most, if not all of them are not normal animals, but his priority is the being making music. He has a passing thought that it might be having an influence on him, because as it continues, he begins to thinks of how beautiful it sounds.

When he reaches the source, hiding behind another apartment building wall, he sees that it's not a monster, but a man. A bald man, sitting up on a balcony and singing into the empty streets solemnly. He looks saddened, but his voice, easily carried into the night, projects evenly—perfectly.

The curiosity sparked from such an odd sight makes him step out and call to him.

#i was also thinking of them eventually becoming friends #the playful kind that jokingly flirt with one another #and they have a scene or a moment when Genos comes to see him late at night again and Saitama—when he sees him—makes a joke about how #it's usually the person on the street serenading the person on the balcony #which prompts a scene where Genos sings to him. his voice is that perfect kind of low. the kind that doesn't over do it but it compliments #any other key wonderfully #and saitama makes the comment of 'I can't tell if you were courting me or seducing me with that'. but he says it with a smile thats just a #little too teasing. a little too affectionate and with far too many hidden implications under it for Genos to process #and then he invites him up into his apartment #one punch man #opm #saitama #genos #saigenos #genosai #opm au #one punch man au #au

[thebeethathums]

Home - 9

Pairing: John Watson x HolmesTwin!Reader

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts mentioned very vaguely. The reader in this fic is a TWIN to Sherlock Holmes and as such shares some physical features to him. Please read at your own discretion with this in mind. 

A/N: Bolded text indicates John’s Blog Posts

You got up early, or rather just got ready early; you’d become a bit of an insomniac, so there was not really any getting up involved. It had been four days since you’d saved John and you had talked to him briefly the day before so he would quit worrying. Such a worrier that man… you could practically feel him doing so through the walls and door.

So you’d put on your best face for him until you were sure he was satisfied and then locked yourself back in Sherlock’s room to think. He’d said maybe you should visit Sherlock’s grave. At first, you’d hated the idea but anything was better than just staring at the ceiling, so here you were- fully dressed yet entirely disheveled, walking up a grassy hill as the sun barely peeked over the horizon. You yawned as you came to your destination, plopping down in front of the stone marker to trace the letters of his name with shaky fingers.

Sherlock froze when he saw you there, quietly crying in front of his empty grave, before ducking behind a nearby tree. He was supposed to meet Mycroft here for his weekly update in a few hours but he’d come early because he was bored and tired of being cooped up. The last person he’d ever expected to see was you. You weren’t even supposed to be in London… when had you gotten back? And why?

He shifted closer so he could get a better look at you, careful to remain hidden even though every fiber of his being told him to go to you. He needed to keep you safe- especially if you were back in London for good. He frowned at your appearance. You looked as much of a mess as you felt, with your short hair sticking out in all directions and your clothes wrinkled and slightly off-kilter, and your face was sullen and haggard from lack of sleep. He wondered how long it had been since you’d slept… how long had you been home to look the way you did.

Wiping the tears from your eyes as you breathed deeply to keep more from escaping, you let out a heavy huff, “John said I should come here. I told him it was an idiotic idea- why should I talk to a slab of stone and a pile of worm food… yet here I am. Like an idiot.”

You rubbed at your temple and sighed, “He’s nice- your friend- and he misses you… I suppose my presence doesn’t really help with that does it? But I like him and he was good for you… perhaps he’ll be good for me too. We are- ...were similar after all.”  

It was quiet for a moment and your voice switched to a pained whisper, “I miss you, Sherly. I keep thinking I see you or hear you- I’ve never hated my mind more.”

Sherlock’s chest wrenched and he sank down to sit with his back against the tree as you shifted to sit against his grave marker, leaning your head back on it, “Do you remember our first day of school? The teacher had to phone home because we wouldn’t let go of each other’s hands and the other children thought we were strange... but neither of us cared because we had each other… I suppose we were freaks from the beginning.”

It was true. You’d always been considered freaks but, no matter how much the comments that came later hurt or how many people shunned the two of you, at the end of the day it didn’t matter- he had you and you had him. Who needed friends when you had each other?

He stifled a small chuckle at the memory and you hummed with amusement, “Or what about the time we were playing pirates and you refused to let me be captain? I was so cross with you that I built a working cannon and shot a giant hole through our ship as well as the shed behind it. Mother was so miffed… I can still see her face.”

You laughed weakly, a tear trickling down your face, “You, on the other hand, were beyond proud and named me Pirate Queen- far better than captain you claimed- and we fixed our ship to include the cannon.”

Sherlock smirked and ruffled a hand through his hair, remembering the incident clearly. You had made a fantastic Pirate Queen and after the two of you had fixed the ship you’d worked together to steal Mycroft’s briefcase, forcing him to fence with you to get it back. It was a good memory. He was brought back to the present when you let out the heaviest sigh he’d ever heard from you and he could feel your sadness. He’d always denied that you two had a ‘twin connection,’ as to him that was absurd hogwash, but now he was beginning to think that maybe you did. It would explain the pains in his chest he’d been feeling lately.

Remembering where you were and exactly what you were doing, you rolled your eyes, “This is bloody pointless. You can’t hear me and if you can, then you're probably teasing me for behaving like a drivel-minded idiot. Still…”

Resting your chin on your knees, you took a deep breath, “If you can- I’m sorry. All those things I said before I left were such lies… terrible, awful lies… I need you. I will always need you. I-I shouldn’t have gone…”

Your voice turned angry as you practically yelled up to the sky, “But you were supposed to be here when I got back, you cock. Sure, I left, but it was hardly permanent- there was not a chance in hell I wasn’t coming home. So why did you have to go and leave me forever? I thought we agreed that one-upping each other was a pointless waste of time and energy.”  

He clenched his fists in frustration, wanting to tell you everything so badly, and then tilted his head back against the tree when you started to cry, “I don’t know how much more of this I can endure, Sherlock. I hate being alone. It’s awful and horrid and… exhausting. I just want to sleep forever, but for some reason, I can’t sleep at all. I wish I’d died in that bloody desert… a whole lot of nothing and unending darkness has to be better than this. At least maybe then I could get some peace.”

There was a long period of silence after that and he let everything that you’d said sink in- you’d rather be dead than live without him… it made his chest hurt unbearably because he felt the same way. He would have to make sure you didn’t do something drastic before it was safe for him to come back. He got up, thinking you’d gone, but instead found that you’d fallen asleep curled up against his tombstone, your tear-stained cheek resting against your knee. He frowned deeply and texted Mycroft that he needed to get there as soon as humanly possible before sitting down on the grass next to you, certain that as long as he didn’t touch you, you’d stay asleep.

Mycroft uttered a soft curse under his breath when he arrived and saw the two of you sitting there and Sherlock was up in a flash, dragging his brother roughly out of earshot before seething, “Why did you not tell me she had returned?”

“You did not need to know.”

“Didn’t need to know? She’s miserable. I never intended for her to be a part of this.”

“All the more reason for me to keep it from you. There are those who would use her against you. You can’t put her in danger, Sherlock.”

Your twin fell quiet, knowing that Mycroft was right, and then huffed, “Take her home. She can’t sleep here… and tell John to keep a close eye. Her thoughts are muddled.”

Mycroft paled slightly, aware of the implications in his brother’s words, and then nodded stiffly, “I will inform him.”

Fully intending to chew out his brother later, Sherlock strode away before he could do something stupid or his emotions got the better of him and Mycroft stepped over to you, gently running his fingers through the top of your hair as he hummed, “(F/n), dear… This a poor choice of a place to sleep.”

You stirred to blink up at him sleepily, “HmmMy? What are you…”

You fell silent as you realized where you were and he sighed, “Come on. I’ll take you home before John begins to worry.”

He rolled his eyes when you reached your arms up lazily, knowing exactly what you wanted, and bent to pull you to his chest. You wound your arms around your brother’s neck with a small yawn and despite the fact he was slightly annoyed and a little strained over having to carry you, he still gave a small fond smile- the kind he reserved for you and only you. He started on his way back to the car, worrying a little when he realized you were lighter than he’d expected, and you nuzzled into his shoulder, “I missed you, Mymy.”

“And I you, (F/n),” he sighed, slipping into the car with you still in his arms since he knew you weren’t about to let go.

You yawned again and fiddled with his tie before looking up at him, the childlike expression on your face reminding him of when you were younger and you’d crawl into his lap with a book you wanted him to read or just to give him a hug. You’d always been so annoyingly affectionate but he could never bring himself to stop you or push you away. You turned your attention back to his tie and mumbled, “If you aren’t too busy… would you come call on me more often?”

The corner of his lips turned up in a sad smile as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, “Of course, my dear. Of course.”

An Unexpected Arrival  

Will my life ever be normal? Then again… Do I even want it to be normal? The mysterious Mycroft Holmes showed up this morning just as I was frying an egg for breakfast, his arm wrapped around a very exhausted looking (F/n). I didn’t even realize she’d gone out but apparently, he’d found her at Sherlock’s grave- asleep against the marker. I knew she hadn’t been sleeping but I didn’t think it was this bad. She’s asleep on the couch now but it took a while for Mycroft to get her to stop clinging to him in her sleep so he could leave. I’ve never seen him like that. It was like he softened a little despite being totally annoyed. He’s worried about her, as am I after he told me to keep a close eye out for any signs she’s thinking about hurting herself. That was a tad sobering. Even sad, I’ve never seen her as anything but strong and independent but looking at her now, curled up on the couch completely exhausted and so upset, she seems terribly fragile and small. Entirely unlike the woman who saved my life a few days ago.

After her brother left, I got to thinking… maybe this was meant to be. The universe dumped her in my lap because we both needed each other- I needed some of him back in my life and she… she needs me to keep her from being alone in the world. I have try harder to do that and as such, I have removed the door from her room. She’s going to hate it, I know, but if she can’t just revert to shutting herself away, maybe we can get somewhere. If I stop updating send someone to check she hasn’t torn me to bits…

#John Watson x reader #John x reader #BBC Sherlock #reader insert #Holmes!Reader #Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #John Watson #mycroft Holmes #twin!reader #Sibling!reader #SADDD #VERY SAD #Slowish burn #John's blog #x reader #fanfic #fan fiction #thebeethathums #Home