#tonight slash today has just been exhausting

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vi.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"You know you shouldn’t lead him on like that," Mindy muses from your bed, her eyes not lifting from the Stephen King novel she’s engrossed in. 

You place your phone above the vanity drawer after hanging up. You just decided on another study meetup with Ethan. 

It’s been a few weeks since he began tutoring you. There’s been a sharp improvement in your grades and you’re starting to believe that maybe you’ll be able to graduate just like the rest of your friends. 

Before, all those things felt as unreachable as the stars in the sky. But Ethan, with his kindness and unlimited supply of patience, made it a reality. 

Sure, you won’t be a top student anytime soon, but at least now there’s hope of you not failing the course and falling behind. 

"What? I’m not leading him on. Ethan and I are just friends," you defend, puckering your lips as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup before the big game. Your gaze keeps bouncing to the clock. The playoffs begin in a little less than an hour. 

Tensions are high tonight. This is no regular game as whichever team wins will go on to compete in the national championship. 

It’s one of the reasons Chad and most of the guys on the team have been in a weird mood all week. 

Besides, honor’s at stake when a team plays on their own turf. 

The pressure’s been off the charts for the cheer squad too, Alana having run the team into the ground to perform well today and not miss a single step. 

Despite how exhausted you are, you’re almost thankful for that. Focusing on cheerleading has helped you file away that god awful night. 

The humiliation you experienced still burns a hole inside you whenever you remember it.

While you can’t quite shake the lingering sensation of being watched, you can at least try to reclaim a semblance of normalcy. 

Hopefully Ghostface had his fill of tormenting you and won’t do anything like that ever again. 

Mindy arches her brow and scoffs, "It’s pretty obvious he’s got some desperate puppy crush on you." Under her breath, she mumbles, "...And I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not Ghostface."

You pause, the tip of your lipstick almost snapping as you press it tight against your mouth. You unleash a heavy sigh and whirl to her, brows drawing together.

"Mindy, please. Not that again," you plead. 

It's not the first time your best friend has shared her doubts regarding Ethan and you wager it won't be the last.

Every time she catches you texting him or hanging out, disapproval paints her features. She also squints and gestures at him that she’s watching him whenever she crosses paths with him. 

It saddens you that she can’t get along with him and won’t relent regarding her suspicions. 

Ethan’s helped you so much. It’s unfair that your best friend keeps claiming he’s a murderer without any evidence to back it up. 

And outside of tutoring, he’s been a great friend to you, always here to wipe your tears and listen to you talk about anything, however trivial. Every time you ramble on about cartoons, your collection of stuffed animals and how you’d love to get more, clothes or anything really…Ethan wears that same fond smile on his face. 

Outside of Chad, you never had a guy best friend. Unfortunately since getting into college, you haven’t seen much of him since he’s so well liked and has developed such a large circle of friends. 

So Ethan’s a breath of fresh air. 

You relish the ability to talk without fear of judgment or being belittled for the things you pluck joy from or how forgetful and absentminded you can be sometimes. 

Ethan has not made fun of you once for misremembering a word or your tendency to get lost around campus. Instead, he escorted you to class and promised to be with you more often so it doesn’t happen. He also agreed with you that it’s not your fault because every building looks the same, which everyone in your friend group laughed at you for mentioning before.

Mindy leaps from the bed, exclaiming, "Come on, Ethan? Shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Maybe he went all 'if I can’t have you, no one can' and decided to get rid of the competition…permanently."

Your eyes roll as she concludes her theory with a repeated stabbing motion towards her throat.  

"You’re ridiculous." You get back to gauging your reflection. As you adjust the pink bow in your hair, you add, "Ethan’s cool. And I can actually understand some of the stuff Professor Atkins says in class now thanks to him."

In the mirror, you watch a sullen Mindy fold her arms behind you. 

"I still don’t trust him." She flicks her hands skyward and exhales in defeat. "But I can’t tell you who to hang out with."

You step away from the vanity to make your way to your pouting best friend. She accepts your hug, a deep scowl still etched on her face. 

"Let’s just drop it, okay?" you offer. "I hate arguing with you."

Mindy sighs against your shoulder.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Leaning back, you squeeze her shoulders and smile. 

"I know, and I love you for it…but you gotta ease off him, Min." She groans at that, tossing herself back onto your bed with her arms spread. As she glowers at the ceiling, you maintain, "Ethan’s been an amazing friend to me."

More curses are grumbled under her breath. Shoulders slumping, you elect to give it a rest and stop trying to convince her. 

You know how stubborn Mindy can be. There will be no changing her mind tonight, or anytime soon. 

Casting the upsetting topic aside, you hop to the center of the room and spin in your cheerleader outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Like a fembot specifically designed to appeal to the male gaze," Mindy deadpans. 

You angle your head sideways. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

She chuckles and smiles at you before elaborating, "You look smoking hot, babe." The befuddled frown on your face vanishes, an elated grin supplanting it. Mindy returns to her reading and gives you a thumbs-up. "Break a leg."

Grimacing, you grab your pom-poms from underneath your bed and head for the door. 

"Hopefully not or Alana will kill me."

You’re on your way to meet up with your squad when you stumble upon Ethan in the hallway. As usual, he’s dressed simply in a blue button-up and dark slacks, damp locks of his curly mane kissing his forehead. 

He greets you in that bashful way he does while you beam at him, shaking your pom-poms. 

You jog in his direction with a bounce in each step.

"Ethan, hey!"

His gaze widens as it roams over you, pink dusting his cheeks. 

"Wow, you look…"

Placing a hand on your hip while the other lifts your pom-pom above your head, you adopt a cheerful pose. 

"Cute?" you suggest. 

Ethan’s throat ripples as he gapes at you. 

For a while, he only does that, stare at you open-mouthed. 

His face then turns an even brighter shade than before as he dips his head down momentarily. 

"Y-Yeah. Something like that," he stammers. 

His reaction drags an amused chortle out of you. You surmise it’s the first time you’ve addressed him in your full cheerleader getup and he must be somewhat taken aback. 

"I didn’t know you liked sports," you observe.

He shrugs.

"Not particularly but everyone is going and Chad’s my roommate." He points at the camera hanging from his neck. "I also kind of got roped into taking pictures for the school paper."

Some of the other cheerleaders wave at you as they’re running out to the field. The impatient clamor of the crowd already swells from the bleachers, loud enough to be heard even from the corridor. 

One of the girls from the squad, Lisa, stops as she catches sight of you and Ethan. A quiet conversation flows between the two of you, an inquiry swaying in her hopeful blue orbs. 

You give her an imperceptible nod and she smiles at you, quickly averting her gaze and striding away when Ethan glances from her to you with a look of utter confusion on his face. 

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, thick brows drawing together.

"About that…It’s good that I ran into you because there's something I meant to tell you, hm, more like ask you."

He inches closer, his eyes on you wide and alert. 

"Ask me what?"

A sliver of hesitation zips through you but you remember the promise you made just a few hours ago at cheer practice. 

You can’t back down. 

You swallow a lungful of nerve and reveal, "So…one of the girls in my squad sort of has a massive crush on you."

"Oh," he exhales, his shoulders sagging. His smile fades, understanding seeming to dawn on him. "You mean that girl I just saw?"

You nod and explain,  "Her name’s Lisa." He considers you blankly. You wave your hands in front of yourself. Words rush out of your mouth in an apprehensive string. "I know. I know. Trying to set up your friends is so cringe but she noticed you since the beginning of the year. The thing is she’s shy and doesn't know how to approach you. I promised her to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime." You twiddle your thumbs and mumble, "She’s super pretty and so nice, and she’s even into that same board game you told me about the other day…" You trail off, forehead creasing as you try to remember the name. 

Ethan tonelessly corrects you when you misspell the name of the game. 

You perk up and giggle, "Right. She just told me. I don't know how I forgot."

Ethan studies you long enough that it becomes unnerving and you start fidgeting under his sizzling focus. 

You grow nervous, wondering what he’s thinking. Usually, you wouldn’t meddle with anyone’s love life. But Ethan’s done so much for you. If possible, you want to do something for him too.

You just don’t know what you could do to thank him. 

Setting him up with someone from your squad seemed like a good idea, especially since you’re pretty sure Ethan’s single. You haven’t seen him hang around any other girl besides you. 

A heavy sigh drops from Ethan’s chest as his lips lift into a small half-smile. 

"The thing is, I already like someone," he confesses, patting his camera.

Your eyes bulge as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

"You do? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize." You blink up at him in curiosity. "Who is she? Does she know?"

He chuckles. "She doesn’t know anything."

You approach him and squeeze his arm encouragingly. 

"Well you’re awesome so if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, you’re allowed to move on."

Ethan lets out another wry laugh. 

"If only it were that simple."

Your brows knit. "What do you mean?"

He runs his hand through his thick curls and exhales a long, weary breath. 

"She’s all I can think about. Literally." He pauses, his gaze corralling yours. "Every hour of every day, I think about her."

"Wow, that’s intense." You rub his forearm and send a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like it’s more than just a crush. Sounds like you’re in love with her."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Silly me, huh?"

"Don’t say that. I’m sure things will work out in the end. You deserve to be happy, Ethan."

His attention on you sharpens before a slow smile unfurls on his lips. 

"You know what? I think I do."

"Of course you do."

Your answer makes him smile wider. 

The moment is shattered when one of the players wedges himself between you and Ethan and steals an ephemeral, chaste kiss from you. 

The buff brunette quarterback flashes you a pearly grin.

"A kiss for good luck?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh, sure," you reply shyly, butterflies swarming your belly. 

He smiles at you one last time before jogging towards the stadium. 

"Who’s this guy?"

You blink, Ethan’s deep, blunt voice startling you. 

Pivoting back to him, you explain, "Oh. Tyler and I met at the boba shop the other day. It’s too early for anything serious but he’s cute and has been super nice to me."

It’s been pleasant to bask in some sense of normalcy again after what happened last month. You craved it. Tyler’s easygoing, fun to be around and he’s never pressured you to do anything once. 

Ethan’s jaw clenches as he scoffs, "Do you just go for every guy who buys you candy or gives you some half-assed compliment?"

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Ethan? What do you mean?" 

He scrutinizes you for a few seconds before sighing and moving to walk away. 

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

The hand you wrap around his wrist stops him, Ethan halting in his tracks. You tug him back with a contrite pout, your concerned gaze rising to meet his. 

"I am going to worry about it. Ethan… Did I say something upsetting? I feel like maybe I did. I'm sorry about Lisa. I thought she'd be your type. She's everyone's type."

"Well, she isn't mine," he replies icily. 

Budding tears tickle the back of your eyes but you repress them. It’s not the time to weep. The game’s about to start. 

So you swallow them with ease, deciding you’ll give Ethan a proper apology later on. 

Instead you give a sunny smile and ask, "Are you coming to hang out with everyone after the game? We all decided to meet up for chili fries and beers whatever the outcome is."

Ethan’s eyes fall on your hand wrapped around his wrist. He shifts your grip so your small hand rests in his larger one. He studies your twined hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours. 

When he looks at you again, a glint dances in his chestnut orbs. 

"Thanks but I’m gonna be busy actually." He flashes you a broad grin. "I just remembered I have some trash I need to take out."

~

#ethan landry x reader #scream fanfic #bimbo!reader #scream 6 #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #scream #dark!ethan landry #ethan landry x bimbo!reader

[obsessive-ego]

Slumber party panic

Reader x musical Beetlejuice

Nsft

Reader has a vagina

Fic where a bunch of teens summon beetlejuice moments before the two of you are intimate

This has been in my drafts forever

...

It's been a long hard week, coworkers have been calling in sick back to back to back, leaving you to cover, so that ment longer shifts, and rougher days but such was retail, you tried not to let it get to you, and kept telling yourself the you'll treat yourself on payday.

Mentally you were fine, but it DID take a toll on you physically, you'd stumble home after a nine hour shift, being the only competent employee on that day, drop your bag, sit on the couch and just stare into space exhausted, leaving your coat on, for about an hour before you'd force yourself up and put something together to eat, at least that was how you'd spend time after work on the days you were alone.

On days beetlejuice 'graced you with his presence', the moment you stumble exhausted into your home the ghoul was already on you, with a summoned clone or two to help take away your coat and bag, and eagerly bringing you to the kitchen where a hot and ready meal was waiting for you, it was so sweet, and honestly the first time he did this for you, you cried, for a demon he was such a sweet boyfriend.

Which brings us to today, another week in the books, you had the next day off and were really looking forward to resting

"Ya know babes, it's been awhile since we made the sheets sing" beetlejuice pulled into his side as the two of you sat together on the couch ignoring the gameshow that had been providing background noise

"I know" you yawn

"So how bout I remind ya why you're with me to begin with?" He snorts out a laugh, pink hues beginning to pop in his hair

You chuckle "I'm not just dating you for your dick beej-"

"I know toots, you're hear for my rear too♡" he pushes nuzzling into you neck, a hand moving to your upper thigh, you give a soft laugh feeling the bubble of excitement begin to start up, but then you yawn again

"Am I boring you?" Beetlejuice chuckles, knowing damn well the week you've just survived

"Sorry Bee-" you start

"Forgetta bout it, why don't you let ol' mister beebleboose do all the work tonight? You deserve a treat for being such a big strong working breather, and come on babes, I gotta fulfill my end of the bargain, since I'm your trophy husband♡"

You give the ghoul a playful push, moving him off you "we're not married beej-"

Beetlejuice crawls up onto your lap, trapping you between him and the couch "not yet♡"

The idea of getting married to beetlejuice always gave you butterflies, you knew the drill with him, the dead marrying the living gave them another, or in Beetlejuice's case, his first shot at life.

"Well?" The demon snaps you out of your thoughts

"Well what?"

"Do you wanna be my pillow princess tonight?♡" he snickered knowing how you weren't too keen on the nickname

"I don't know beej, being called 'princess' isn't really a turn on-"

"Alright my pillow prince♡" he coos, pinching your cheek

You swat his hand away "I do miss being intimate with you-"

"Then its settled!" Beetlejuice scoops you up, his hair now magneta, buzzing with excitement "call me old fashioned toots, but as much as I love railing ya on the couch, I'd rather tonight we take it to the boudoir♡" The ghoul quickly carried you over his shoulder to your room, making sure to give your bum a pinch before dropping you on the bed.

"God slash satan I've been waiting all week for this" beetlejuice purrs, crawling up on the bed and leaning over you, his magenta hair buzzing and giving the room a romantic glow

"Me too" you sigh leaning up giving the demon a soft kiss, it's been a rough week, and to be honest you've been feeling guilty saying no to him every night, you wanted to as well, you just wanted sleep more.

Beetlejuice pushes you back down on the bed, breaking the kiss, not like him, normally you'd have to remind him you need air to live, but whatever

"You're wearing too much clothes, here, allow me♡" he chuckles before snapping his fingers, your clothes vanishing in thin air, aside from a simple pair of black panties.

The ghoul leans back taking a good look at your mostly naked form, even though he's seen you like this so many times, his lecherous stare always made you a tad shy.

"It's been too long" he groans loosing his tie

"It's only been a week" you try to sit up only to have the ghoul push you back down

"Time works different when you're dead, now close your eyes and give daddy some sugar" beetlejuice purrs leaning forward, his long striped tongue leading the way

You do as instructed, having no desire to be what some would call a brat, you close your eyes and lightly part your lips ready to start a much desired night of passion.

You waited for a second or two, yet nothing, you knew beetlejuice as an inpatient guy, especially when it came to being intimate, so you peak.

He was gone

"Beetlejuice?"

Nothing

"Beetlejuice?"

Still nothing

"Beetle-?" You stop half way, knowing he'd normally stop you before you got all three B words out, but he didn't come

Oh, he was messing with you

"Okay" you start breaking the B word chain, then it hits you, maybe he's gonna try that thing the two of you were talking about, awhile ago you mentioned to beetlejuice you thought the idea of being 'railed' or 'taken advantage of' by an invisible entity is incredibly hot and if he was up to it, you'd very much like to try it with him, and by God, the demon was foaming at the mouth, and practically vibrating with excitement when you asked him that.

As that thought crossed your mind you eagerly lay back down against the pillows, sliding your panties downs leaving them hanging on your ankle, and spreading your legs. You lay there beaming with excitement waiting for the shoe to drop, but as 5 minutes pass your feelings fade to disappointment

Maybe this is beej's way if telling you he didn't really want to have sex with you tonight, maybe when he asked you earlier he was hoping you'd turn him down again, your heart squeezed at the thought and the humiliation you put yourself through, laying there like an idiot, was he getting back at you for turning him down ever night this week?

"If you didn't want to have sex you should have said something you ass" you cry getting off the bed and beginning to find something more comfortable and cozy to go to sleep in.

"You can forget sharing the bed tonight too" You couldnt help but tear up, he made you look like a fool, waiting for him laying there naked for almost an hour, he's probably in this room laughing at you, enjoying his shitty revenge game.

You plug your phone in and crawl under the covers of your bed, already warm from you laying there like a dumbass, you wanted to cry until you couldnt breath, this had to be the meanest thing ANYONE, let alone your partner, have ever done to you, just as you turn over ready to cry yourself to sleep, your phone rings.

You grab your phone off the night stand, wipe your eyes and awnser a shaky "hello?" Assuming it was a coworker calling last minute to ruin your day off tomorrow.

"Hey, babes? Call me back asap!"

"Beetlejuice?" What did he mean call him back? Wasn't he here?

"Two more doll, hurry up!"

He sounded alittle upset

"Where are you?"

He groans "just call me back and I'll explain" you could hear young girls crying in the background "I'll just be a minute" he shouts away from the phone, but still is herd by you

"Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice" you get it over with tired of this back and forth, you hear the clunk of the phone he was holding hit the floor then the disconnect tone.

In a puff of green smoke he was back, the magneta in his hair now gone, replaced with an awful mix of purple and red, the pink that graced his suit moments before his disappearance? Now the same awful mix as his hair, though the colours quickly fade back to pink when he sees you

"BABES!" He lunges at you, the bed creaks when he makes contact with the mattress, the demon was quick to wrap his arms around you and nuzzle in, to which you push away

"What happened?" Your voice was stern and demanding, you wanted answers and wanted them now.

"Aw babes" beetlejuice starts rubbing the back of his neck "it was rough, apparently some kids at Lydia's school herd her summon me, so they did it too, ya know, a bloody Mary party game situation"

He was pulled away, he was pulled away against his will, he didn't snub you, god this made your gut turn, you were upset for nothing.

"Thank whoever I was still fully clothed when it happened huh babes?" The ghoul gives you a nudge "let me set the scene for ya toots" Beetlejuice crawls up against the headboard with you, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in

...

"Give daddy some sugar♡" was the last thing he said to you before being pulled from your bed.

Lips still puckered leaning forward, an unfamiliar scream breaks the mood

Opening his eyes, before him sat 3 teenage girls

The room was dimly light by a hand full of led candles

It took the ghoul merely a moment to adjust to the situation, adjusting his tie, and smoothing his hair back, no longer magneta, but now red, these little brats ruining the night he's been craving all week.

"I cant believe it worked"

"A real live ghost"

"This is so cool"

"What have we done?! He's totally gonna kill us"

The chatter amongst themselves as of this was all a silly game

Beetlejuice clears his throat to stop noise and gain the kids attention

"Alright-" he starts

"Okay mister ghost, we summoned you so you have to do as we say, just like you did for that creepy lydia girl" what beetlejuice could only assume was the ringleader in this pack of teens, stood up straight poking him in the chest, the ghoul cringes at the mention of Lydia, guess Babs was right, maybe the two of em should be more careful in public spaces, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna to spread it around he got caught and summoned. Beetlejuice pushes the thought of a lecture out of his mind, he had bigger fish to fry, meaning to get home and rail you, you must be worried sick, you poor vagina drying up in his absence.

"First off we want you to-" the kid's voice snapped him from his musing back to the current problem

"Alright kid, I'm gonna stop ya right there, this isn't a 3 wishes genie situation, I'm a demon, ya know, from hell, and you 3 pulled me away from some serious demon business, I should eat the lot of you for it"

As Beetlejuice ranted his form changed, becoming more monstrous, his teeth shapper, his claws more prominent, his eyes more snake like, all around more intimidating.

The teens huddle together in fear pleading for their safety and passing around the blame of who's idea to summon him was.

"But I won't" at those words the demon features fade and he returns to his default look, although still red "if you kids do something for me"

At this point the girls were sobbing, noses running, babbling unintelligible sounds, and clinging together for dear life

"Can I use your phone?"

...

"Wow" was all you could say

"I know, I know, I've been through alot tonight, I could really use some comfort, so how bout we~" he leans into you nuzzling his beard into you neck, you gasp at the sensation, feeling his tongue lick the stripe up your neck.

"Oh Bj♡" You let out a soft moan

"I know toots♡" he groans guiding you back to laying beneath him "now where were we?♡"

...

.....

Bonus

Lydia: hey so that girl who's been being mean to me hasn't done anything to me in awhile

Beej: ....haha weird....

Y/n: ...yeah weird

#beetlejuice x reader #rambling #muscial beetlejuice x reader #nsft

[my-cabbages-gorl]

Delicate by @my-cabbages-gorl

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Romance Rating: Teen audiences & up

Some tags: Zukaang, one-shot, aged-up (Aang is 24 & Zuko is 27), just two men in love being messy as hell, fellas is it gay to find solace in the lips of the man who betrayed you and lead you to you your death

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt Broken Moonlight

Read below or on Ao3

~

The dusty purple curtain of evening settles over the sandstone roofs of Ba Sing Se. From their balcony in the Earth Kingdom palace, the night hums at a placid, noiseless distance. Aang used to dread this yearly week of pacifying nobles and politicians. By the eighth annual summit, after the dam broke and the Firelord now shared his bed, that—along with almost everything else—changed. 

By now, the frenzied, diplomatic commotion of the annual Four Nation Summit has become somewhat of a predictable routine. But this year, even in the quiet of the usual sanctuary of their shared chambers at the end of an exhausting day, something ticks uncomfortably behind Aang’s dark grey eyes as they trace the golden alleys, glittering with life, slashing across the night in Ba Sing Se. 

Channeling his seismic sense, he notices a stammering hitch in Zuko’s breathing as he enters silently through the heavy stone doors and bends flames alive to light the torches lining the room. Without turning to see whatever practiced, placated expression he wears on his face, Aang can feel there is more than broken moonlight hanging between them. 

“You were excellent today, your highness,” he offers over his shoulder with his arms crossed and back still to Zuko. Amusement that usually soothes somehow prickles Zuko uncomfortably. 

“As were you, Avatar Aang,” his hot breath and scarred hands closing around him—joining him to watch the distant vibrance humming below the palace in the dark. The severe set in Aang’s shoulder stiffens at Zuko’s touch. 

In the last two years of their new relationship, it’s been Aang who finds a stoic and cold Zuko alone in their chambers and works to pry him open, offering his love as a tether to rescue him from the depths of himself. Tonight is different. Zuko tries to remind himself what Aang would say in these moments. 

“You seemed distant today. Is everything—are you...” his voice trails off into the deep blue of the night, intertwining with the static buzzing between them. 

A steadying breath rakes through Aang as his eyes shift sidelong to take in Zuko’s knit brow. “Yes. I mean, no. It’s... complicated.” his voice shakes in the way it does when he’s pretending that he isn’t about to cry. 

“Aang, talk to me.” Zuko’s softness washes over Aang as he steps around him to look up into his eyes. Lavendar moonlight smoothes the exasperated lines of Aang’s face. His palms find Aang’s cheeks—thumbing away the moisture beginning to sting the corner of his eyes. 

“I don't know what I can say, Zuko,” his head shaking gently into Zuko’s touch, a gentle sob shuttering his shoulders as his grey meets Zuko's’ gold. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I-,” another shake in his frame lurches him forward and deeper into Zuko’s touch. 

“Aang,” there’s a sternness in his gilded eyes, filtering through his whisper, “I love you. I’m here. I can take it, whatever it is.” 

“Being here in the Earth Kingdom palace, with you, now,” there’s a hitch in his breath, his words taste strange in his mouth, he’s not sure the rest is worth saying. But he wanted to try, "I was dead, Zuko.” 

The truth and darkness of his words slam down over them like a slab of concrete. Every point of contact between their bodies feels like it's frozen, but somehow—burning. 

“I hated you so much,” he manages between the gasping, sobbing breaths that are coming now. He slams a fist against Zuko’s chest, but he doesn’t flinch. He just nods, tears forming in his eyes. 

“I hated you, Zuko, I hated you,” his cries choke him as Zuko wraps his arms around him, holding him through every wave. 

They remain this way for moments that stretch on into minutes. Whispering I’m sorry and I love you like the words to a hauntingly familiar song. Two lovers, alight with the tortured work of forgiveness in the dead of night. 

When they pull apart, this time it’s Aang's hands that find Zuko’s jaw and pull his tear-stained face up to his. His eyes taking in the pained set of Zuko’s brow before crushing their lips together—moving his mouth against Zuko’s in a wild, desperate erraticism. 

“Aang,” Zuko pants through the thick haze of desire overwhelming him as Aang’s fingers rake through his hair and he feels his hands prying open his robes, “I’m sorry,” his breathing growing heavier with every frantic kiss. “I’m so sorry” The sound of his moans mingling with shame slows the motion in Aang’s body. He pulls his face away, the sight of Zuko’s untied robes, his bright pink lips, and disheveled topknot stabbing him with remorse. 

“I- sorry, I shouldn’t have,” his stormy eyes, purple and flush with need in the moonlight, fall towards the ground as his hands slump down to Zuko’s waist. 

“It’s okay, Aang,” his fingers finding Aang's, "I’m the one who should be... sorry,” he looks down at their bodies still pressed together. Sorry feels pointless. Sorry will never be enough.

“You've been apologizing for ten years. When will I just,” a breath he didn’t know he was holding puffs through his lips impatiently, “...get over it?” he sounded exhausted. 

“No one’s asking you to get over it, Aang,” the silence stretches on between them, but it’s not uncomfortable. Zuko fills his lungs with the evening air before saying, “I’m not asking you to get over it,” their eyes meet again in the anguished purple of the darkness, something sanguine and unspoken settling over them. 

Before he can say anything else, Zuko pulls Aang into his arms, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and curling his head into his chest. His lips rest on the blue of Aang’s arrow, breathing in the sweet sandalwood of his skin like a healing tonic. 

And there, in the dusty indigo of the night, for what feels like the millionth time, he prays a prayer of thanksgiving to Agni that the man in his arms is still breathing. And that after everything, he’s still his.  ~ This is my first @flashfictionfridayofficial submission, and I had SO much fun writing it. Shoutout to @theavatarandthefirelord for being my inspiration to write fff and to write more Zukaang in general. Generally leaning way more into angsty as hell and messy as hell Zukaang - hope ya'll enjoy!

#zukaang #my fic #zuko #aang #atla fic #atla #flash fic friday #flash fiction #fff240 #writeblr #writing community #writing prompt #writers of tumblr

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Sorry I'm Late, Sweetheart.

Eddie Munson X Reader

When your four friends decide on their plan to defeat Vecna, you're instantly aware of how dangerous this mission will be. It's more difficult than slashing a Demogorgon or hiding from the Mind Flayer and you're unsure whether you'll get out safely. After Nancy is taken, the only thing you can do is lay your life on the line.....and play the most badass rock show the world has ever known.

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, blood and gore⚠️

The cold dark air rushed all around the five of you, snagging at your clothes and brushing your hair every which way. The ashen sky fell with literal ash and painted your clothes with the grey color, almost as a warning of how intertwined with the universe you were to be as you continued on with your weapons in hand. Your shoes scuffed up the ground of the once familiar Hawkins and the vines at your feet made it difficult to navigate without the fear of falling or becoming entangled in them. It was a dark day indeed, and everyone knew it. No one had the comfort of knowing they would make it out of this alive and that resonated with the silence that hung in the air and clawed at your skin; your bones becoming heavier and heavier as you trudged on with tears starting to form in your eyes- wondering if this was the last moment the five of you would share.

Your clothes and everyone else's had been tattered with the previous encounter of Demobats: pesky little things that would be the equivalent of a small demon dog. It had bit Eddie and Robin before they had been slashed by Steve and his axe which he had brought along with him in preparation for this fight. Steve had saved you guys many times, tonight wasn't an exception. He looked older now, a stark contrast from when he was the seventeen-year-old you had first met with his cute haircut and bright eyes. Now, he was filled with a sadness that seeped through his skin and wore out his features, his face a permanent expression of exhaustion and worry. Nancy wasn't too far behind, her face had worn itself out as well and bags were starting to form under her eyes. She was worried about the outcome of today and about Jonathan whom's safety she was always unsure of. Robin's lips were formed into a permanent frown and Eddie....Eddie was the most determined one out of all of you. Lines on his face creased with nervousness and fear as to what came next, but his eyes shone with a passion you had never seen in your life. He was ready. Ready to defend himself and his friends.

You slowly progressed up to where Eddie was walking leading the group and slipped your cold hand in his warm one. He didn't turn to look at you for fear that he would burst into tears at the idea of losing you, but he gave your hand a squeeze to which you did back to him. It was a calming gesture of sorts, and you could feel the confidence slowly coming back to you with having him by your side. His Hellfire shirt seemed like a tease at a life you missed so much: one that was filled with friends and mysticism that only existed in board games. You craved to have that sense of normalcy back; a time where you weren't forced to be a hero.

"Everything will be okay." You whispered, enough for him to hear you. His hair swayed softly with the wind and he chewed on his bottom lip.

"In case it isn't," he began, finally turning to you and you could see a single tear falling from his eyes, "I love you."

You felt your heart shatter. You were just a bunch of kids trying to make it in this world. It wasn't fair for your youth to be stripped away.

And suddenly, everything that was slightly calming about the situation completely evaporated the minute you turned around to check on everyone else. Eyes rolled back into her head and feet floating off the ground, Nancy was staring up at the cursed sky with her mouth slightly agape.

"Nancy!" You yelled, catching the attention of everyone else around you. Steve was the first to react by rushing over to Nancy and trying his best to bring her back down to the earth. Robin followed suit and grabbed one of her legs as she continued to ascend into the air. You and Eddie were at a loss for words or action. Steve had looked at you and almost in slow motion, he gave you the look of a panicked boyfriend even though him and Nancy had broken up long ago. He was terrified. And to make matters worse, there was no Walkman in sight.

"Music! What's her favorite song?!" You yelled, turning to Eddie for help only to realize that where he once stood was empty and he was rushing in the opposite direction. "Eddie!"

Eddie screamed out "I'm getting my guitar!"

With his shoes kicking up the strange otherworldly dirt and nearly tripping over seven vines, he ran faster than he ever had towards the trailer park in which him and his uncle lived. It seemed like a millennia ago, waiting for his uncle to come home from work and listen to Ozzy with him on the record player they shared. It was a fond memory, one of the only ones he had of his uncle that he liked to look back on, but he found this memory to be what continued to push him towards his house and to his guitar. Starting to sweat as he dawned the familiar woods that he used to smoke weed and hang out with you in, he threw off his denim jacket and pushed up his sleeves getting closer and closer to his fated destiny.

He threw open the door and practically fell into the trailer, slipping on the carpet that his uncle had insisted on keeping by the door so as not to track mud into his place. If only his uncle could see the mess now.

Eddie could see the portal back to his universe on the ceiling from where Chrissy had been taken. The vines surrounding the hole overgrown and cascading down all sides of the small living room and through to the bedroom and kitchen. They almost seemed to breathe, as if the entire trailer was alive rather than teeming with life. It was definitely a spectacle. The metal head thought to himself for a moment as he contemplated what it would be like to just jump back through the portal and be far away from here. To rid himself of anything Hawkins related and to relocate somewhere where he would never be found. It would be so much easier just to run away, to not have to be the hero everyone counted on him being.

But then he thought to you. And he quickly recollected himself.

Running to the bedroom, he saw his prized possession hanging up in front of his bedroom mirror, the only thing that wasn't touched by the strangeness of the Upside Down. The cheetah print red shine of the body called out to him and gave him a sense of purpose and time. The familiar strings he had played so many times brushed under his fingers and let out the softest hum of music. It was in tune. Just as he had left it.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart." He said, thinking back to the same words he had said when Chrissy was in his presence. He would've loved to be friends with her.

He grabbed the guitar and swung it over his shoulder, quickly finding the amps and power cords he had around his room. It was no easy task, but he moved everything to the roof of the trailer where he knew he would be able to play. He never imagined his first gig since leaving Corroded Coffin to be in another dimension, but he was totally digging the vibe. Cords, cords, and more cords were plugged in as he prepared himself to do the only thing he knew best.

Play music.

....

Nancy didn't have much time. The red sky loomed overhead which was a complete contrast from the familiar blue that she had just left. Everything that wasn't touched by the unsettling blood color was black. The vines, the trees, the ground. Victor Creel's house.

The mansion stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the chaos of floating rubble. Its towers reached the sky, scraping it with its haphazard rooftops and shingles. The attic window was brightly lit while the rest of the house was pitch black, signifying where Vecna committed his acts of violence: terrorizing the town and dooming young teens to their deaths for what, Nancy wasn't certain. She remembers the lifeless corpse of Fred with his eyes sunken in and his limbs bent every which way. His scar was like a warning as it marked his face and his fate.

Nancy did a once-over and made sure she was okay. Her ribs hurt but it was presumably the fall that led to it. Her eyes burned and her veins jolted with the fear she felt in her entire body, matched by the adrenaline of the fight.

Suddenly, a figure loomed to her left as it joined her in staring at the front of the house. She didn't bother to look at it; to let it know that she was frightened. She wanted to put on a brave front. The figure was almost a foot taller than she was and she could feel the vines pushing out of the way for this being to walk. It's hot breath met her ear.

"It was such a lovely house." It said, making itself known. Nancy gulped back some of the fear she felt and allowed her fingers to nervously drum against the sides of her thighs. It was torturous just to be in the presence of Vecna as she knew how it was going to play out if the others didn't save her. Her body joining Fred and Chrissy, six feet under with a torso so bent out of shape they would have to create a custom coffin. The very thought chilled her to the bone.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, sounding more scared than she meant to.

Vecna turned to look at her and moved towards the front of the stairs, backing her into a corner. It was such an odd juxtaposition; an evil entity with all the power in the world being so calm towards her, as if this wasn't her death he was about to bring onto her.

"I will end all your suffering." He said, slowly lifting up his arm which was adorned with long claws attached to even longer fingers, moving to touch her face ever so gently but piercing into her skin. She closed her eyes and thought back to the night she was at Jonathan's house.

The alphabet was horribly drawn into the yellowing wallpaper, Christmas lights surrounding the entirety of the house and illuminating the living room and writing. The lights were going off one by one as Will tried to contact them, using the letters to form short words and sentences. Steve had been there too, a bat with nails in it and a black eye from his fight with Jonathan. The two boys looked at each other and then at her as they awaited what was to happen next. Nancy held the weight of a gun in her hands.

When the wall broke in and a Demogorgon appeared, it had been Steve that had acted first. With his bat in hand and baseball stance, he had struck the demon over and over again, watching it bleed out into the ground from whence it came. Even then, he continued to strike the beast over and over just in an attempt to protect Nancy.

He had saved her then, and he would save her now. Nancy was sure of it.

"It's the final countdown."

All of a sudden, her thoughts were interrupted by a song that was so familiar and overplayed she wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness and throw up with the fear at the same time. Her mouth contorted into something of a smile as Vecna released his grip on her skull, forcing Nancy to the ground as she looked towards the red sky that was now blue towards the far right of the house.

Turning back on the ground and taking one last glance at Vecna, she locked eyes with the creature that looked more angry than anything else.

"Fuck you." She said, and started running towards the blue light.

The ground felt like water as she tried to run the fastest she could away from Vecna. The floating debris of the house started raining down on her, trying to stray her from her path. One from the right and then one from the left, sending her onto the ground only for her to get right back up again and run even faster than before.

"We're heading for Venus..."

Nancy followed the song and followed the light, losing her slip on shoes in the process. Barefoot, she raced towards the end of this nightmarish hell, bracing herself for impact if she were to fall again. Catching a quick glimpse from behind her, she saw the beast wasn't too far behind.

"And still we stand tall..."

The silly tune guided her to the end of the light where she finally made out of the red portal and back into her body. Feeling a surge of motion sickness, she felt herself fill her body once again, feeling like the little pills with sponge dinosaurs once they hit water.

Dropping from the sky, she fell back into the arms of Steve, who was ready to catch her from the beginning. He held her closely, brushing stray strands of hair from her face and taking in her frazzled state. She was covered in dirt and there were scratches on the sides of her face that he swore hadn't been there before.

"Cause maybe they've seen us...and welcome us all, yeah..."

Eddie's music blared on from the woods, louder than anything they've ever heard. The Demobats started to fill the sky in search of the sound, rushing through the sky and towards the trees. You stood frozen in place as you watched them head towards your boyfriend. Looking towards Robin, she gave you a smile and tilted her head in Eddie's direction.

"Go save him." She said with absolute certainty and you felt yourself running towards your boyfriend before she even finished getting the words out. Your shoes made heavy stomping noises as you ran faster than you ever had in your life in hopes of making it in time to warn Eddie and beat the swarm together.

As you neared the woods, you saw his jacket lying on the ground and you picked it up, throwing it over your shoulders and running up to his residence, seeing him shredding his guitar and head banging like you had so many times when seeing him play for Corroded Coffin.

"Eddie!" You screamed, jumping up the ladder and racing to his side. He was so lost in the song, he didn't even notice you had joined him up on the roof until you grabbed one of the other guitars he had brought up there.

"Hey! What are you planning on doing with that?!" He asked over the music.

"Oh shut up! You have another one at home!" You said, preparing the guitar like a bat.

"You're such a badass!" He said as he finally gave you a smile since getting mixed up in the affairs of the Upside Down. The Final Countdown ended and Eddie took a look at his guitar, his most precious thing in the universe after you, of course. Giving a swift kiss to the body, he held it out in front of him and mumbled an "I love you" before he readied it like a baseball bat, same as you.

"Here they come!" You said, watching the Demobats fill the night sky and coming rushing down towards the two of you.

"This is the most heavy metal thing I've ever done!" Eddie yelled and then the two of you started beating the bats with the guitars, throwing them down onto the ground and the roof as you hit them over and over and stabbed them with the broken pieces. Eddie dropped his guitar and bit off the head of one, watching the blood spurt out onto the equipment that was now useless. You crushed one of the bats in between two of the amps and watched the blood spurt out and fly everywhere, coating your clothes in it. It would be a miracle if Eddie would be able to wear his Hellfire Club shirt again after this. Just then, two more bats came your way at full speed.

Eddie moved in towards you after finishing with his bat and pushed you off the trailer, holding you in his arms to stop the fall. He watched the bats get confused and continue to fly forwards in search of you as he pulled you up off the ground and rushed you into his house.

Locking the door and barricading it with everything in his sight, you both sat on the ground next to the couch to keep out of sight from the windows and to catch your breaths. Everything happened so fast, it was surprising that you two had made it out of that situation alive. Looking at your boyfriend you saw a couple cuts along his face and arms and you grazed his skin gently.

"Eddie. I saw you bit the head off a bat. You totally had your Ozzy Osbourne moment." You said, giggling slightly.

"(Y/N). That was singlehandedly the coolest moment of my life." He said.

The two of you made out on the floor of course.

#fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson my beloved #hobisfavoritespritecan

[shamelesshussythoughts]

I am so tired.

I'm so tired of trying.

I asked CD when to know when it's time to just throw your hands up and quit. His well thought out and intentioned advice was when you've tried everything and nothing has worked. Problem is, I am SO FUCKING TIRED of trying. I also, don't ever know when to quit.

I'm just so exhausted from it all.

Is it too much to ask to be loved or cared for by someone?

I'm watching all my friends who have been through the shits and they're getting married, dating, having kids with their new partners, they're all SO FUCKING HAPPY. They all are finally coming out the other side and I'm still lost in the middle without a flashlight.

I'm happy for everyone. JL is having a spooky little Halloween baby with her boyfriend, CD met someone, other people on my feeds are getting married and engaged, they're going places and taking pictures with these genuinely happy faces, arms linked, kissing, laughing, having the time of their lives with someone who cares. I know what I see isn't the whole story. But what I see is what I want, even if there are squabbles and obstacles behind the scenes, at least they all like each other.

I am just so tired of trying.

Twice in less than a month I have ended up with migraines so bad I've been nauseous. The first was a week or two ago. I had to leave work early and it was the most terrifying drive of my life. Every time I moved my eyes I wanted to vomit, every time I blinked I was afraid my body would decide it was time to nap and I'd doze off. I didn't know what was wrong at first, I've never had a migraine that bad. I picked up headache medicine and tums on my break and they didn't help. I was dry heaving off and on the rest of the afternoon until I finally was able to leave.

Yesterday I felt the tension headache coming on but I made it through the day somehow. By the time I got home I was nauseous, feverish, and in so much pain. Some time after 5:00 when I had dry heaved as much as I could I was able to finally drift off until about 7:00 when I finally felt a little more human.

The stress of this marriage is affecting my physical health now. I cannot and will not live like that. I have to protect myself and my health. I still have a tight neck and lingering head pain. It felt like I was being kicked in the forehead yesterday. Today it's more an occasional rap on the top of my skull.

I'm so tired of the half assed, apologetic lies I get. All the bullshit that is supposed to be said gets said. I mention his drinking is out of control, he says he'll stop next week. Of course, my bitter self scoffed at that. How many weeks ago did he first say next week? It's always next week and never today. I'm tired of waiting for next week, whenever that happens to be. I'm tired of the fighting, I'm tired of the bullshit, I'm tired of the meaningless truce that gets made each time. I'm tired of pretending I've not just been through an emotional paper shredder that is starting to leave more and more frayed nerves behind. I'm tired of crying.

I'm tired of feeling like the only way to make it stop is to hurt myself. I did it a couple weeks ago, I did it again yesterday. If, by some strange chance, anyone sees it, I guess I'll give whatever answer fits best. It hurt so much I had to hurt myself to make what I felt inside quiet down. I kept having these terrible thoughts of slashing my arms to ribbons but I'm not trying to die. I just want the pain to stop. No one knows about this. I can't tell anyone, they'll ask too many questions and maybe attempt to intervene in some way. I don't need a damn intervention. I need someone to hold me while I cry and tell me it's going to be okay until I stop. I need a fucking sincere hug from someone who actually cares.

My hand hurts from punching the wall last night. I think I jammed my middle finger.

What the hell am I going to do tonight?

#marriage #mental health #stress #migraine #relationships

[sanzu-sanzu-sanzu]

leave the front porch light on

Haitani Ran X Fem!Reader / one-shot

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/ bonten!ran, established relationship, angst with comfort

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Ran stands at the front door, his patience wearing thin. Just a minute, he’d heard your faint voice from the other side over a minute ago, and right now he’s this close to sidestepping the doorbell and just start banging with his fist just to ease his annoyance. Instead, he decides to give you twenty seconds more. He flinches at the softness that has slunk around his ankle, hears the purr before he spots the stray cat in the dim light, and he has half a mind to keep himself from kicking it away. Not now, he grumbles under his breath, as he stares hard at the cat that keeps coming back thanks to your constant feeding. Not now when he’s starving and it’s late and angry at the lateness of the hour; angry at the week-long logistics dilemma Bonten’s Roppongi shipments have been facing; angry at the fact he left his keys in his half-drowsy state when he left the house before dawn this morning. Angry, now, at the fact it’s taking you too damn long to get to the door.

The cat scurries away without his having to say anything.

He raises a hand to bang his fist but manages to stop himself the moment your face emerges from behind the door. The frown on his face is still etched deeply, ready to demand What took you so long? or I almost hit you, before you latch both hands on his shoulders for support as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Welcome back,” you say softly into his ear.

The leverage you place on his shoulders feels heavy, he thinks, and he peers down to see the bandages trailing from your left ankle. There’s several things he isn’t so happy about at this moment but his words come out involuntarily:

“What happened to you?” He right away regrets the harsh edge coating his words before he even sees your wincing, but then the chuckle you let out to dull the bite is also just as quick.

“Oh, it’s,” a small frown, your eyebrows meeting as you eventually wave a hand away—a tell he doesn’t recognize. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid, really.” Ran raises an eyebrow. I bet it was, he could’ve said with an affectionate smile, as he always had at all the little accidents you somehow always would get yourself into. He would’ve smiled stupid at your pouting lips that he’d always catch with his, before another kiss on the forehead he’s known you always liked, and then another on the would-be bandaged bruise to kiss the hurt away.

Tonight, however, he’s exhausted. He knows there isn’t food yet in the kitchen (and it’s your turn to cook today), he’s hungry and he has no time to listen to a silly story or two. He simply sighs as he offers you his elbow, which you gingerly take after a moment of hesitation.

His phone blares in his pocket, sharper than his exhausted sigh, and you automatically uncoil your fingers from his biceps. “Go get your call first,” you tell him, “I’ll fix this real quick then get to cooking, alright?” and then you’re off, one arm leaning heavily against the wall as you start walking back the way you came out before he can even protest.

The caller is one of the hostesses slash informants from last week’s meeting, the pretty one that Sanzu and Rindou had been eyeing the whole time, but whom, they all knew, really had eyes only for him. Who kept playing footsies with him underneath the table, whose big toe he must’ve accidentally stubbed at least once, and not by accident at least twice—though, really, could she have known or would she have cared about the difference?—and whose invitations for ‘a friendly drink’ he’s already declined on two separate occasions. A woman he has no business taking casual drinks with, but also a woman they have to keep distracted and wanting for the meantime for illegal reasons; so it’s a little tightrope he knows he’s gotta play, a little game he learns to dangle and distract himself with.

The woman purrs a greeting, a suggestion of a rendezvous at midnight, if he so wants, which he easily deflects, but also entertains enough to keep her wanting.

When he leans back against the table, he almost nudges a can of olives over but which he’s quick to catch with one hand. He tilts his head and is met with the still packed groceries on the counter; ingredients, he right away recognizes, of his favorite dish. His heart twinges as he fishes out the familiar cans one-by-one, his breath catching in his throat at the gradual realization, at the sudden, groggy memory of you whispering Goodnight into his face last night, I’m gonna make you your favorite dish tomorrow, you promised, a kiss on his cheek to seal the words you mumbled in your half-asleep state.

He spots your small, crouching form through the space between the cabinets, the way you’re seated on the carpeted floor so as not to leave bloodstains on the sofa, one bright-red knee pressed against your chest, as your hands fiddle with the bandages on your ankle, and his stomach sinks with the weight of his guilt.

What had he been doing? Why is he letting his wife get hurt? Why is he letting you tend to your own wounds when he should be the one kissing your hurt away, much less allow them to touch you in the first place?

You still there? he hears the chuckle in the woman’s voice and his attention refocuses. Without taking his eyes off you, he maneuvers his phone between his shoulder and ear, places his hands over the sink and under the running water.

Sorry, urgent matters. A click to end the call, a towel to dry up his now clean hands. He leaves the kitchen untouched, proceeds to walk over to where you’re at.

You blink in surprise as Ran wordlessly settles down right in front of you, shuffling his long legs to get into a comfortable position before taking your ankle to affix your poor attempt at a bandage. He’s learned to do it better because of you—first aid measures both simple and complex from all the nights he’s come home to you bloodied and bruised, and sometimes a little worse than the injuries you’d struggled to not cry over (and you never had) from his pre-Bonten days—and yet, somehow, you can never quite fix yours properly.

“Sorry, I’ll get your food prepared right away after this.” He hears you sigh, but you also throw in a small, familiar smile, the way you know he likes it whenever he gets home after a long day. “I’ve learned to cook faster now, you know?”

Ran only shakes his head, tries his best to maintain a stern facade as he busies his hands with your first aid kit. “No need to rush with the cooking next time. Actually, please don’t try to do it ever.” His resolve crumbles, however, at the sound of your chuckling, a sound he never realized how much he’s missed.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Promise, I won’t burn the house down.”

He peers at you from underneath the hood of his eyes, your chimes of laughter settling into a soft smile on your lips. “I don’t care about the house. I just don’t want you getting hurt, alright? And don’t worry about it; I’ll make us something.”

There’s still humor in your eyes but he’s quick to spot the second guilt starts coloring your expression.

“On second thought, why don’t we just order take outs tonight, hm?” he says, attempting at nonchalance. “I can’t cook as well as you, anyway.”

The gasp you let out lights up your eyes and stirs up warmth inside him, as you clap both hands over your mouth in genuine delight. “You think my cooking is good?”

He grins from ear to ear, makes a mental note to let you know just how much he appreciates your cooking much more often from now on. “Slow down, I only said you cook better than me, and everyone cooks better than me.” He laughs at the roll of your eyes.

You’ve always been so shitty at fixing your bandages yet, somehow, you’ve always done the best job at fixing his. You’ve never enjoyed cooking much too and would burn yourself all the time it’s astonishing, and yet you still would go out of your way to learn and make him all his favorites. He’s always known you were never the stay-at-home type, the wait for your husband wife; you were always the girl with the raft on your back and the wonder in your eyes, the spring in your steps and the fearlessness in your laughter, and yet, somehow, you’ve decided on a life where you spend way more time making sure he gets to live his adventures; a life that has you staying up so late on so many nights more than he’s comfortable thinking about making sure he’s right there, beside you, on your warm bed.

With him. A life that you chose with him.

And so he renews all his promises, the unofficial, personal vows he’d never put into actual words so much as chiseled on the skin of your hips, hung over your lashes, pursed on your lips, with the tips of his fingers and the curves of his mouth, as you laid asleep on his arms on the night you’ve made him yours and you his—silently, this time with his mirth-filled eyes, as he watches you talk with your hands about your old lady neighbor who caught you placing the bouquet of roses at her door last week; as you told him about the little girl at the supermarket yesterday who’d tugged at your braids and shouted ‘Tiger Lily!’ at you over the noisy, crowded hubbub of the checkout lane; about the new bakeshop down the street that handed free coffee to the first customer of the day (and no wonder you started waking up so early Mondays nowadays); about the meal you planned on cooking for him tonight and wanted to perfect the way he always likes it…all your little feats and domestic exploits just as meaningful and stirring as you would see them through eyes that always saw the good in things; all your words excited and fearless, like beautiful fluttery things you’ve let bloom inside you and now are set free just for him, your face the brightest, the happiest he’s seen in how long—he promises, now, that any way it goes, Ran would swear to come home with as little bruises as possible for you to help fix each night; he would still happily devour any and he means any meal you work hard for him to prepare and place on the table; and he still would do anything to give you all the things you deserve in the world and so much more.

He piles away the few remaining cotton balls, keeps his hand on your thigh as he looks up at the tired, silly grin on your face with familiar fondness, and he thinks how beautiful, how singular, your smiles have always been. “I should take you somewhere nice this weekend, you know. Get you something nice. Anything you want.”

A funny expression plays across your face, curiosity and then a little bit of guilt, a crack of an embarrassed smile as you let two fingers drum idly on your bottom lip—a habit when you’re thrown in a loop. “Wait, what’s happening this weekend. It’s not our anniversary, is it?”

He laughs as he takes your hand into his, pries them away from your lips to press against his, planting chaste kisses on your knuckles—his reflex response always, always. “‘Course not. Nothing of the sort. I just wanna spend time with you, that’s all. Please?”

You smile like a silly girl, this time taking his hand around yours to guide towards you, letting his long fingers engulf half of your face the way you know he likes to do. “I don’t mind just staying home with you. Make me your favorite dish, or something. So long as you’re here.”

“Yours, then.” He half-whispers, as soft as the thumb he grazes along the apple of your cheek. “I’ll make you your favorite, how about it?”

“It’s a deal.”

He makes you laugh once more when he tells you a thing or two from work today, a brief moment of hilarity between Sanzu and his brother, before he decides to ask about your broken ankle and the accompanying bruises.

“What was it that made it so stupid? Tell me.”

You shake your head, red gradually tinting your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing, Ran, but also it’s a long story; I’m not sure I wanna tell you.”

He insists. Insists on not letting this be a hurt you never tell him about, but then you laugh in a way that easily melts his worries. You cup his cheeks with both hands.

“Fine, fine, but get your phone and start ordering our food, then I’ll let you know. This is gonna be a long story, I’m telling you.”

He steals another kiss, and then another, on either corners of your lips, before he pulls back to tease you with a helpless grin. The light in your eyes flickers once and then lingers, guiding his way home.

@sanzu-sanzu-sanzu 🕷

#ran #ran haitani #haitani ran #haitani #haitani brothers #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x you #ran haitani x y/n #haitani ran x reader #haitani ran x you #haitani ran x y/n #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #tr x you #tr x y/n #tr x reader #ran x you #ran x reader #ran x y/n #bonten #bonten arc #bonten gang #bonten ran #bonten ran haitani #bonten x you #bonten x y/n #bonten x reader

[reidslibrarybook]

I'm Goin' Your Way

Couple - Spencer x fem!reader

Warnings - Language, allusions to sex

Summary - Based on the episode Reflection of Desire (6x8) and the iconic line— “IQ of 187 slashed to 60”. This oneshot basically extends the episode and continues on from the interaction.

Category - fluff

Word Count - 2.7k

A/N - I don’t really know what I was doing with this one and we can just pretend the timeline isn’t messed up. There are also pics for reference. :)

masterlist

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—————————————-

Derek approached the lanky doctor twirling around in his chair, “Kid, we’re going out tonight.”

“Mmm, no Derek. I think you mean you’re going out tonight. This case wasn’t exactly easy and I think I’d rather spend the night in my room reading than going out to a germ-infested bar and drinking.” Spencer didn’t bother looking up as he flipped through the pages of his new book detailing the quantum physics related to consciousness.

Derek stalked towards him and plucked the book out of his hand. “You know, Prentiss told me that you were gawking at a pretty lady today at the station,” he teased.

Spencer sat up and walked to pick up his messenger bag, trying to leave the station without being roped in to drink with the rest of the team. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and just go without me. You know I don’t particularly enjoy drinking and I hate bars.”

“Well, lucky for you… we’re not going to a bar and you can drink club soda.”

Spencer sighed and gave Derek a look of warning not to push it any further, “Derek-”

“Kid, it’s been a while since the whole team has gone out together. There’s this 1950s-themed club that Penelope found when she was driving to the precinct. The whole team is gonna dress up and have fun, Reid. Look, if you really don’t want to go then fine, but it’s going to be a chance for all of us to de-stress and bond.”

“That’s ironic since this case was about a man who was operating under a hallucination which took place in the 1950s. I don’t think I’m in the mood to be kidnapped and held hostage again.” Spencer rolled his eyes and turned away from him, feeling some residual guilt from that last statement. He stayed quiet as he started to pack his things up.

Derek exhaled loudly and put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “It’s up to you, kid. I’ll send you the address just in case you change your mind.”

Derek left the station with the rest of the team, leaving Spencer to pack up the rest of his belongings alone. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, it’s just that large social settings aren’t his scene. Especially not when he’s surrounded by his friends that could all pass off as models.

He drove to the hotel and went up to his room tossing his satchel onto the lounge chair situated in the corner of the room. He loosened his tie and took off his cardigan. He was unpacking his bag when he heard a ding emmit from his phone.

Fruity King 👑🍆💦

1184 Passaic Street, Georgetown, Washington DC 20005

Spencer chuckled lightly when he saw the contact name, Derek and the rest of the team had insisted that they enter their own contact name when Spencer bought a new phone.

He moved to sit on his bed and set his phone down on the nightstand. He sighed, exhausted from apprehending the unsub earlier tonight. His mind was racing from all the events from today, so he opened his book to ease his mind. As he read through the book, he couldn’t stop thinking about Derek’s offer. For some reason, he felt guilty for not going out with the team. Because of his insecurities, he avoids going out with them whenever he can. He didn’t want them to think that he didn’t enjoy their company, it’s just that his own festering self-doubt held him back.

He loved having Derek as his friend but hated standing next to him whenever they were around women. It just served as a reminder that he would never be chosen if it came down to looks. Sure, he had a brilliant mind, but how many people judge a book by its content and not its cover? He was tired of feeling like he was always second best and being cut off when he was rambling about anything, so he stopped interacting with people in general.

He would often retreat into his shell and leave all the talking to Derek unless the team needed him to spout facts about a certain topic. Any interaction that wasn’t about work or a case always left him hurt because he was always overlooked and ignored.

Spencer sighed, frustrated with his lack of concentration. He set his book down the moment he realized that he wouldn’t be able to read for the rest of the night. He knew no one on the team meant to cut him off and they surely couldn’t control their appearance. He realized that his reasons for not going were irrational— he wanted to have fun and spend time with his family.

He walked to his duffel bag and pulled out a black suit that he always brought with him no matter the case, he never knew what he needed whenever they were called out. He remembered Derek mentioning that the club is 1950s-themed, so he slicked his hair back in order to fit in with the rest of the people there. Before he left the room, he took a quick glance in the mirror and was satisfied with how he looked. He grabbed the keys to the SUV and drove to the club.

It was a quiet ride, peaceful enough for Spencer to come to terms with his insecurities. All he wanted to do that night was to have fun and enjoy the time with his team. His mother always gave him advice whenever he visited her, she told him that if someone liked him, they would appreciate him for his mind not how he looked— maybe it was time for him to take her words of wisdom.

By the time he got to the club and walked in, it was full of people dressed in 1950s-style clothing. Men in black suits, similar to the one he was wearing, and women in elegant dresses belonging to the time period. As he scanned the interior, his eyes caught Emily’s.

She stood up and waved in his direction, “Reid! We’re over here.”

Spencer smiled and walked towards the table in the center of the club.

“Right on, kid. You look great! I was just about to get everyone their drinks, club soda for you?”

He nodded his head at Derek as he left the table and headed towards the bar.

Penelope leaned forward, “So, what made you change your mind, boy genius?” With her question, everyone looked over to Spencer, curiously awaiting his answer.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. I just figured that I haven’t been out with you guys in a while and I should take advantage of the time we have off.”

Emily, who sat right next to him, nudged his arm lightly, ��Glad you came.”

“Me too.”

Derek eventually came back with all of their drinks and the night went on. It was filled with laughter and happiness— Spencer was glad that he came. The conversation was abruptly stopped as a man walked towards the center of the stage and turned on the microphone on its stand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to our infamous singer, Y/N Y/L/N.”

You walked out onto the stage dressed in a gorgeous silver dress that made you shine brighter than anyone else in the club. Spencer squinted his eyes, trying to figure out where he had seen you before.

“Reid, isn’t that the girl you were staring at earlier today in the station?” Hotch asked with a small grin on his face. Spencer looked at Hotch and realized he was right, you were the beautiful woman he couldn’t take his eyes off at the station earlier this afternoon.

“Oh my god, it is,” Emily teased with her ever-present smirk on her face.

As the beginning notes of Moon River played from the piano in the corner of the stage, your voice filled the club ever so sweetly. Spencer looked towards the platform, practically ogling you.

Moon River, wider than a mile

I'm crossing you in style someday

He was enraptured by your presence, the light from the stage illuminating your features. The dress hugged every curve perfectly as the deep v cut of the dress accentuated your breasts.

Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker

Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way

After you sang that line, Spencer had caught your eye— the two of you staring intently at the other. You gave him a knowing look and sent a smirk his way.

Two drifters, off to see the world

There's such a lot of world to see

We're after the same rainbow's end

The team was clearly amused by Spencer’s reaction to seeing you again on stage. Penelope even managed to snap a picture of the good doctor’s mouth wide open, drool threatening to drip from the side.

Waitin' 'round the bend

My huckleberry friend

Moon River and me

After the song ended, another one rolled on right after. Your sickeningly sweet voice filled his mind and your subtle glances forever engrained in his memory. He couldn’t peel his eyes off you all night, at one point, everyone on the table left without the genius noticing. They had moved to another table in hopes of you coming over after you were done singing.

As the music faded you stepped down the stairs off the stage, making your way over to Spencer. He panicked and unexpectedly pushed his chair out and left to get another drink from the bar. Your slight grin turned into a frown, thinking that he wasn’t interested in talking. You walked away to converse with others, hoping that receiving compliments would help ease the sting in your heart. The team witnessed the whole exchange, disappointed in his cowardice.

He wasn’t ready to talk to you, he hadn’t prepared any conversation starters. He saw your gleaming smile fade and knew that he had royally fucked up. He tried to validate his timid behavior by repeating that you were too good for him and he was doing you a favor in his head.

“Kid, what the hell was that?” Spencer was startled by Derek’s smack on his shoulder.

“Nothing, it was nothing.”

“She was trying to talk to you and you just got up and left?”

“I- I’m scared, Derek. She’s so pretty and I’m sure you heard what Emily said at the station. Whenever I’m around beautiful women my ‘IQ of 187 is slashed to 60’,” Spencer shook his head in shame, “I can’t talk to her. I would ruin any chance I have of getting her number. She’d probably talk to me for all of 5 seconds and decide that I’m too weird or nerdy or skinny or-”

“Stop. You need to give yourself more credit, kid. You look great and, yeah, maybe you need to work on talking to girls but you need to at least, try. If she doesn’t like you, then her loss.”

“I don’t know, Derek,” he looked up to see you looking at him. As soon as the two of you made eye contact, you looked away and took a sip of your drink.

“See. She’s still interested, now go and make me proud, kid.” Derek gave him an encouraging slap on the back and lightly pushed him towards her. He awkwardly walked over, you were well aware of his presence and acted oblivious to his approach.

He stopped and took a deep breath before speaking, “H- hi.”

You turned around and took a sip of your Gibson, “Hi.”

“L- look, I’m really sorry for my reaction earlier. I was nervous and you’re really pretty and I didn’t want to screw things up which I probably already-”

You interrupted him by holding your gloved hand over your mouth and laughing, “It’s alright, really. It was jarring but I don’t mind talking to you now?”

Spencer smiled as he committed your loud giggle to memory, “Yeah. Umm, do you… um, remember me by any chance?”

“Yea, you were the guy with the gun strapped to his belt at the station staring at my ass right?”

His eyes widened as you giggled, “Oh, no. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I- I wasn’t trying to stare. Oh god, I- I’m so so sorry.”

You placed your hand on his arm to calm him down, sending waves of heat up to his cheeks. “I was just kidding, kinda. I was upset until I looked back and realized how cute you were.”

He laughed softly, “You have a really great voice, do you sing here every night?”

“No, whenever I have free time. I have a busy job and singing here at the club is one of the ways I manage my stress.”

“What do you do?”

You sipped your drink, “I’m an aerospace engineer.”

“Wow, that’s… really cool.”

“You?”

“I’m a profiler for the Behavioral Analyses Unit of the FBI.”

“Oh, you’re here investigating those murders right?”

“Yeah, we just solved it a couple of hours ago.”

“Those poor women, it’s horrible.”

Spencer nodded as he ordered a drink from the bartender.

“So, are you a genius or something?”

“Sorry?”

“That woman over there,” you motioned your head toward Emily, “She mentioned that you have an IQ of 187 that drops whenever you’re around women?”

“Oh, um, yea I do have an IQ of 187.”

“Handsome, smart, and successful. I don’t think you realize that you’re a complete package.”

“T- thank you.”

The rest of the night was filled with mutual flirting and risqué touches between the two of you. Spencer’s team eventually left the club, leaving the genius to converse with you. You both talked about physics, facts about the 1950s, conspiracy theories surrounding Monroe’s death, and so much more. He had never had so much fun talking to someone he had just met. Throughout your conversation, he realized that you weren’t weirded out by his rambling or when he blurted out facts, you actually enjoyed them and listened when he was talking. It was refreshing.

As the club started to get ready to close, Spencer escorted you out to your car. You tugged the lapels of his jacket to pull him toward you, “I had a lot of fun tonight, Doctor.”

Spencer, flustered and blushing, agreed, “I did too.” His eyes flicked between your eyes and lips, signaling his next move. You helped him along by moving your face closer to his, leaning to the side, allowing him access. Your lips met in a passionate, fiery kiss. After about 5 minutes of the two of you sucking each other’s face off, you pulled away while the two of you panted, gasping for air.

You opened your car door and handed him your card, “Call me.”

“I will,” he said as he took your card in his hand and leaned down to give you one more kiss. He stood there as you got into your car and drove away. He smiled at your card, his thumb brushing over the red lipstick stain on the back.

He got back into his car and drove back to the hotel. Walking back up into his room, he pulled out his phone to see numerous text messages from the team on the group chat.

Fruity King 👑🍆💦

Pretty boy’s gettin’ some lovin’ ❤️😏

Pan Princess 👑✨🎀

I’m so happy for you, Spencer

Tell me when I should start planning the wedding

You two look so good together 😆

Definitely not in love with Prentiss 💓💜💙

Awww

Raging Lesbian 😈✨🏳️‍🌈

You better ask for her number 😡

Boy Genius 🤓📚🧠

Emily, I did.

Fruity King 👑🍆💦

Remember to use protection 🤪

Boss Man 😑

Please use this chat for professional reasons only.

Also, congratulations, Reid.

Papa Pasta 🍝

Oh, lighten up, Aaron

As Spencer got ready for bed, he couldn’t help but think about you. Images of you were on replay inside his mind, reminding him of his feelings for you. He thought about his mother’s words and knew that you were the one— because you liked him for him, inside and out.

—————————————————-

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#spencer x reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series #dr spencer reid #spencerreid #drspencerreid #spencer reid one shots #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid reader insert #spencer x bau!reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid hurt/comfort

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Karl Heisenberg x Reader Pt. 2

You could read this as a stand-alone fic, but there’s some more context of the situation on the first one.

Usertags: @fandomtrashgoddess

Synopsis: Some fluff/hurt slash comfort after and escape attempt. tw:kidnapping (implied) tw:physical abuse (implied)

             You sat on in the bathtub, facing the wall, head leaned back, while Heisenberg sat on the toilet seat behind you. You counted the little dots and indentations in the ceiling while he repaired your injuries.

             You tried not to hiss when he poked around your face, checking your wounds and scratches for any metal debris or splinters. Your eyes watered when he would pull one out, no matter how gently he did it (or tried to), it made your eyes water. You pretended to be strong.

             After a little bit you feel a warm, damp cloth pat your skin. It doesn’t sting as much, and if anything soothes the burn.

             “I told you not to try and escape,” he mutters, “look at what you did to yourself… You’re lucky I found you when I did.”

             “Who was the one that set up the traps that almost killed me?” Your voice was hoarse, dry, and tired from screaming, and your body was sore from running and kicking and screaming. You lost the fight in you an hour or so ago, and here you were being cleaned up from the mess that was made. The mess that you made.

             “I wouldn’t have to set up traps like that if you stopped trying to escape.” He takes a cotton pad with saline solution on it and lightly dabs at the cuts all across your face. “These are going scar, sweetie.” You can feel the sarcasm and hostility at the end but chose to ignore it. “You’ll be beautiful no matter what, of course, but you get them through pain, and I can’t stand the thought you ever being hurt.”

             “Okay boomer.”

             “What the ever-living fuck is a boomer?”

             “Google it.”

             “How did you even get wifi here?”

             “Not telling.”

             He sighs and begins to gently apply aloe to the cuts. You’d never use those words to describe Heisenberg. He’s big, bulky, strong, and intimidating, but for some reason his rough and callous covered hands managed to be so nimble and delicate on top of being bulky and strong. It has to do with his tinkering and building, you suppose.

             He places a kiss on your forehead, above one of the bigger gashes and leans your head off of his lap. “Alright, I think that’s the last of them.”

             You still sit in the tub, covering yourself with your left, covered in gauze and bandages. The other one in a sling with ice inside. It hurt terribly, some of the worst pain you’ve ever felt. You remind yourself to NOT dislocate your elbow.

             You felt so exposed, in nothing but an oversized tank-top and your underwear. He had put you in one of his shirts to have easier access to your arms and such. You were exhausted, and just needed sleep. But you knew that you had a punishment ahead of you, and that you needed to endure a little longer.

             He tilts your head up, to look him in the eyes. There was so much more emotion than you could comprehend: anger, sadness, betrayal, love, there were too many and he was clearly conflicted on what to do.

             He scoops you up bridal style, easily, and holds you close. “I think you’ve learned your lesson for now, being chased by propeller man is more than enough excitement for today, we’ll worry about the consequences tommorow.”

             You just nod your head. “Thank you, Dr. Doofenshmirtz.” It’s a quiet statement, and despite the exhaustion, you still are able to maintain a bit of snark. You refuse to be fully submissive, and in moments where you don’t have the energy to fight physically or battle it out with yelling insults or witty comebacks, you have to resort to statements like these.

             “I told you to call me Karl.”

             You pretend to consider it for a moment. “Hm… no.”

             “I might change my mind and spank you now.”

             You yawn. “You don’t have the nerve.”

             Still, he carries you gently into the shared bedroom. The kink-sized bed with beige sheets and a comforter folded at the end of the bed. It was yours mostly because it’s always cold at night. Heisenberg always found his way under it or wrapped around it somehow, and by morning he was either dead asleep with no way to escape or in the workshop, waiting for you to come visit him in your pajamas.

             “You’re not going to be able to change tonight by yourself.”

             “I’d like to try.”

             “Well, you won’t.”

             “Don’t act so tough, Schwarzenegger.” All of this snark is tiring you out, but you refuse to give up what little control you have left: freedom of speech. Thank God for being an American because lord do you know how to use it.

             “I’d imagine you’d learn to shut your mouth after all the times I’ve gagged you but apparently not.” He sits you down on the poorly made bed and slips his shirt off you. The cold nips at your skin and perks your nipples, which he ogles at for several moments before going to the shared dresser.

             He doesn’t ask how cold you are, just grabs the short-sleeved slip-on night gown from its place in the draw and a pair of underwear. He lifts your legs and slips off your current pair. It’s been a while since you last shaved, but he shows no disgust or even disinterest. He wants to lean closer, smell you, taste you, feel you, but he restrains himself. Your shaken and tired enough as is, no need to worsen that. He slides the new pair back up, lifting your ass with his hands while he pulls the briefs up to the small of your back.

             He slides the sling off your arm, and carefully maneuvers it through the arm hole. “Keep it still, okay.” His voice is soft and gruff, and for a moment, you melt, before you remembered he kidnapped you. You’ve had more domestic moments, ruined by the circumstance in which they came, but for some reason, you feel his caring nature come through more.

             He slides your other arm through the arm hole and tugs the dress down over your head. It’s bunched at your hips from you sitting, but there’s not much he can do about it besides move you, which he doesn’t plan on doing.

             “Heisenberg?” You call out softly, pulling him out of his train of thoughts, “I’d like to go to bed now.” Why the hell do you have to ask for his permission? But you do anyhow. He pushes you back onto your side of the bed, and rests your head on the pillow, that’s almost flat enough to be replaced. Almost. He pulls the covers from under you, and tucks you in up to your chin, just like how you would a child. You see him walk to the end of the bed, his coat moving behind him as he pulls the comforter up. He leans down, and you look in his eyes a moment before kissing you on the forehead.

             “Goodnight pumpkin.”

             “Goodnight Zoidberg.”

             “Goddamn it.”

#yandere #yandere resident evil #yandere karl heisenberg #yandere karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil x reader #tw: kidnapping #tw: physical abuse #not beta read #resident evil village #resident evil 8

[creweemmaeec11]

My Demonic Lullaby

A hero x demon snippet partly inspired by both @the-modern-typewriter and @amethystpath-writes hero and demon snippets. This idea actually predates my sleep paralysis snippet, but I never got around to writing it till their snippets got me back on the hero x demon train 😂 Next part to follow soon hopefully!

Insomnia really sucked, Ellory decided. He was already *exhausted* from the fight with one of the cities top villains earlier that day. He was aching all over, his head was throbbing, it was already 3am and yet he *still* couldn't fall asleep.

The hero rolled over onto his back with a groan, both from annoyance and the pain of moving. His ribs ached, still, open cuts stung. His hands came up to rub his face and eyes.

"What I wouldn't give to be able to sleep like a normal person," Ellory mumbled under his breath.

He closed his eyes, flipped his pillow for the * fourth* time that night, and thunked his head back down to the bed.

"Seriously," he muttered to the empty air, "what is it going to cost for me to sleep?"

Ellory had asked the question more to himself, as if asking his brain what he had to do to finally get the rest he so desperately craved.

He wasn't expecting an *actual* answer.

"Need some help?" a low and smooth voice asked from what sounded like the corner of the room.

Ellory tried to snap his head in the direction of the voice, only to be unimpressed by the fact he couldn't move.

"*Oh you have GOT to be kidding me*" Ellory mentally groaned, "*I ask to sleep and what do I get? Sleep paralysis, and even a disembodied voice hallucination to go with it!*"

Suddenly the voice chuckled, "Not quite,"

Now, the hero wasn't new to sleep paralysis. He didn't get it often, but every now and then it would creep its way in. This was the first time it had ever happened *before* going to sleep though. It was also the first time he'd ever hallucinated.

Ellory knew that there were others who had crazy hallucinations, even knew one hero who said they got them almost every night. (Even though they gave Ellory a weird look when they said they'd been getting better recently) Luckily for him though, prior to tonight, the worst he'd ever seen was a shadow or two.

His eyes turned, glancing over as best he could to the corner of his room. Despite the darkness, he could see some vaguely human-shaped swirling shadow. The only way he could make it out at all was because it was somehow even *darker* than the shadows around it.

Luckily, the shadow was just kind of standing there, and despite what his other hero friend had said, it didn't look very scary...

The hero mentally sighed again, letting his eyes slip closed. He was *so* tired. Why couldn't he just sleep?!

"That would probably be the insomnia," the voice stated sarcastically.

"*Thank you captain obvious,*" the hero mentally retorted, before stopping, "*great, now I am literally having a conversation with myself. Maybe villain DID hit me in the head too hard today,"*

The disembodied voice snickered again. Though highly amused, it wasn't mocking or unkind.

"No, you're head is fine. But you never answered my question," the shadow-thing said, its vague shape shifting over, more into Ellory's sight.

Whatever hallucination his brain had come up with didn't seem to be going away any time soon.

"*And that was?*" the hero replied. He had nothing better to do than to just amuse... well, himself; he supposed.

"Would you like some help sleeping?"

"*I would LIKE to be asleep already! And real sleeping, not this nonsense,*"

"I can help," the voice offered, seemingly as the shape took a step forward.

"*Oh I'm sure you can*" the hero replied sarcastically, "*If so, then why aren't you?*"

"You need to say yes for us to make a deal,"

Whatever hallucination Ellorys brain had decided to come up with, it certainly picked... an interesting voice. There wasn't anything wrong with the voice itself, in fact, it was quite pleasant to listen to. It sounded slightly masculine, low and gentle, yet not raspy in the slightest, like whatever this illusion was had never had a sore throat in their life. The weird thing, was it sounded confident and in control, but *wasn't*. The hero had been around villains enough to detect when a false bravado was just that; fake.

Especially with nothing else to do but listen, Ellory was able to easily pick up on the slight hesitations, the shaky undertones, and even the way the tones shifted, despite his sleep-deprived state.

Why would his brain come up with such a random yet weirdly detailed hallucination?

Maybe he *had* hit his head more than once.

"*A deal?*" the hero groaned again, "*Just sleep already!*"

"I can ensure you get a good night's rest every night, if you'd like...just tell me; do I have your permission to help you sleep?"

"*Yes! Please!*" Ellory internally cried. He was arguing - no, *begging* - his own hallucination. That's what tonight has devolved to.

"Very well then," the disembodied voice hummed. The last thing the hero remembered was opening his eyes to see the shadow move closer before things went black.

The next thing Ellory knew, he awoke the next morning, feeling shockingly well-rested.

What a weird dream he'd had last night.

The hero moved to get up, before remembering he was injured and braced for the wave of pain... only for nothing to come.

He looked down, lifting up his shirt to examine his abdomen and... what the hell?

What had previously been a sprawling mess of deep slashes, purplish-black bruises and swelling was now nothing more than a few scrapes, small cuts and the occasional tender spot.

Ellory skimmed his fingers across the surface of his skin, baffled.

Had it just looked worse in the dark? That made no sense.

Regardless, he wasn't about to complain, and he didn't have time to dwell on it. Being a hero meant busy days.

Unfortunately, as the week progressed, the strange occurrences only escalated.

While walking down the stairs the following day, Ellory tripped, nearly going head over heels, before something seemed to suddenly catch him, turning him in the air and standing him upright again.

It had happened so fast. Maybe his reaction times were better than he'd thought? Regardless, Ellory just brushed it off.

But then the following day, one of the cities villains threw a knife at him. He would have reacted to it too slowly if the knife hadn't suddenly stopped in the air mere millimetres in front of him before dropping to the ground with a clatter.

Now he was officially a little weirded out.

But the events just kept happening.

Doors were opening in front of him, only to close when he walked through. He'd knocked a glass of water off the counter, only to look down and see it had landed perfectly, not a drop spilt. His mail from the apartment mailboxes had appeared on his kitchen table when he didn't remember going to get it. Lights were flicking on and off when he'd enter or leave a room. One night he'd even realized he felt a bit chilly, only to hear the heater turn on seconds later.

One night, he fell asleep on the couch, only to wake up with a blanket over him he *swore* wasn't there when he fell asleep.

And yet, the hero had also been getting a great rest every night, drifting off almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

It wasn't until today, however, that Ellory really began to panic.

The hero had been on the rooftop of an office building, with a villain *on top* of him. (These events had really throw Ellory off his game)

This specific villain, however, wasn't particularly nasty, and Ellory had successfully reasoned with them before, and so despite the knife to their throat, they weren't quite panicked yet.

Said knife was still being held a couple inches away from their throat, more of a warning to stay down than an actual threat of "I'm one word away from slitting your windpipe open,"

"You, are becoming an increasing pain in the ass,"

The hero gave a small smile, "trust me, the feeling is mutual, but you know I can't let you do this,-"

He was cut off by the villain thrusting the knife much closer, "I wasn't aware you-"

Suddenly, without warning, the villain was launched back into the air, catapulted off him. Ellory watched them skid across the roof where they landed a couple meters away.

Whatever the villain saw when they looked back up made the colour drain from their face. They immediately pushed themselves up to their feet, staggered back a few steps, eyes wide, before they turned tail and fled.

The hero was frozen.

*What the hell?!*

Ellory looked down at his shaking hands.

*What the hell just happened?!*

Quickly, the hero got to his feet and took off home, completely panicked. He ran as fast as he could, as if something was chasing on his heels, breathing down his neck. It felt like his own shadow wanted to catch him.

*Something was wrong* *Something was really wrong*

As soon as he made it into his apartment, Ellory ran into his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror.

He looked normal, though slightly red, which was just the consequence of being so out of breath. He was panting, breathing heavily and shaking. His hair was also a mess, a combination of both the frantic running and previous fight.

He could hear the frantic drumming of his heart in his ears.

Ellory took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. Grip tightening on the counter's edge.

Bending down into the sink, he splashed his face with cold water.

He was patting his face dry with a towel when a voice behind him startled him.

"I'm sorry...."

Ellory's head shot up. In the mirror, he could see a dark shadowy figure in the corner of the bathroom behind him.

The hero immediately whirled around, but was greeted by nothing more than an empty bathroom. His eyes wandered around warily, but not a thing seemed out of place.

Great, was he hallucinating now too?

He sighed, relaxing from the scare before turning back to the mirror and-

Ellory froze.

There in the mirror, in the same spot as before, was the shadowy figure.

He glanced back and forth between the mirror and back corner, but the dark humanoid shape was only visible in the reflection.

There was a few moments of silence as the hero simply stared, brain reeling, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

The shape was in constant motion, shadows swirling gently, like a foggy aura surrounding a much darker silhouette. The constant movement made it near impossible for the eye to focus on any one part of it, as if trying to see the individual particles in a stream of smoke.

The silhouette inside the aura was a bit more defined, at least around the head and shoulders. Apart from the clearly humanoid shape, the darker mass had no other identifiable features; except for its eyes, which were like two white voids, with a slightly darker pupil in the center.

Said eyes met Ellory's momentarily, before being cast downwards almost sheepishly.

That's when it clicked. The sheepish posture. This was the same shadowy figure from nearly a week ago.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He couldn't think of anything to say.

The figure seemed to take the action to mean he'd had enough time to process.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," they apologized, sounding genuine.

The hero blinked.

*This was really happening*

"What..." the hero managed, barely getting the words out of his mouth. His brain had stalled.

"I was only trying to help," the shadow went on to explain sheepishly.

Something in the hero's stomach seemed to drop, "What... what are you?" He asked nervously.

"I think you know what I am," the demon replied quietly.

Ellory swallowed.

"Why can I only see you in the mirror now when I could see you fine last time?" He asked as if that was the most pressing question at the moment. Perhaps it was the only question he could handle the answer to right now.

"You may want to change your definition of 'fine', you were experiencing sleep paralysis last time,"

Finally, Ellory's brain seemed to catch up, "Why are you here again?"

The shadow in the corner seemed to still slightly, "I'm here because we made a deal,"

Deal...? They didn't make any... wait-

"You tricked me?!"

"Hey!" The demon snapped indignantly, posture suddenly defensive, "Not entirely! I've kept up my end of the deal! You haven't had any trouble sleeping this week have you‽"

Well, no... but...

The hero couldn't help but swallow nervously again, "so then what's *my* end of the deal?"

The shadow's posture instantly deflated again, "just let me hang around, basically..."

Hang around what? His house? Surely not because the demon had been there when he was fighting the villain so clearly-

"You possessed me!?" Ellory realized, eyes widening.

"No!" They replied, sounding almost horrified at the idea, "possession would be taking over control entirely! I'm just... taking up residence in the back corner?"

"What!?"

"Please don't send me back!" The demon pleaded. Their voice was suddenly so *desperate* sounding. The hero could even see the desperation in their white eyes. "I'll do whatever you want I promise! I'll go back into hiding and won't do anything! You won't even know I'm here I swear! I-"

The shadow was full-on rambling now, sounding more and more desperate with every word.

It was probably absurd that his heroic instincts flared, but he couldn't help it! This... being(?) really sounded like they were in trouble. Like they were genuinely scared.

"Hey, hey, it's okay-" Ellory interrupted, holding his hands up and taking a step forward. His heart sank when the figure flinched back, sinking in on itself and pinning its eyes closed as if bracing for something.

When nothing happened after a moment, the demon risked opening their eyes again. Still, they never said anything, just sheepishly stood in the corner as if waiting for a verdict, looking like they wanted nothing more than to hide in their own shadow.

Ellory took a deep breath, surveying the situation. The creature in front of him certainly didn't seem dangerous... and he hadn't tried to hurt the hero at all. Being able to sleep without any problems was also a nice bonus...

"so your... not... going to hurt me or anything?"

The shadow shook its head almost frantically.

"Ok..." Ellory took another deep breath, "As long as you don't hurt me, and don't do anything unless I tell you to, you can stay, okay?"

The demon in the corner immediately perked up, eyes brightening, "r-really?!"

The hero nodded.

"Thank you!" The shadow cheered, and Ellory would swear he could almost see a smile, "Thank you so much! You won't regret it I promise!"

And then just like that, there was a poof of smoke and the demon's reflection vanished, leaving a confused hero that still had a million questions alone in the bathroom.

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#writing #snippet #ficlet #short story #snippets #my writing #my work #creative writing #Crewes writing #writers on tumblr #writblr #drabble #story #writer #writers of tumblr #stories #Hero x villain #villain x hero #Heros and villains #heroes and villains #hero x villain snippet #Kind of #Hero x demon #Heros and demons

[airplanned]

Yiga!Zelda chunk time

First section of chapter 1.  In which Link has a terrible time, but at least Aryll is sweet.

Link had a grueling day of standing absolutely still along the sides of rooms, protecting twelve-year-old Lady Aryll, Duchess of Faron.  When he first greeted her, she wished him good morning, but he simply nodded to her as he fell into place three steps behind her.  Today she decided to tell him everything she knew about crows, which was her latest obsession.  She tried to convince everyone who would listen that she should have a flock of pet crows, and surely someone could make that happen.  She had an awkward breakfast with the king, who did not want to hear about crows and emphasized the vital importance of her studies. The duchess' smile did not slip as she ate her toast, but Link felt the insistence on perfection like a punch to his gut. 

She went to boring lessons in the morning, where she excelled--bright as she was--and kept trying to bring the conversation back around to corvids.  Link prayed that they would discuss something interesting since he was not allowed to zone out without putting her life at risk. 

On the way to her prayers, she asked, "Sir Link, what do you call a group of five crows and ten cuccos?" 

Answering was unnecessary.

"A murder most fowl!  Ha!"

He snorted, and she grinned, proud of herself for breaking through his stoicism.  

For the next three hours, she sat on her knees before the Goddess statue until Link approached her.  "Your Grace, you must prepare for tea."  She rose slowly, taking his hand when he offered it.  He escorted her back to her room to refresh herself, slipping her a vial of peppermint oil for her sore knees, and then escorted her to the solarium, where he had to listen intently to court gossip as he watched the fine ladies like a hawk should any of them pull a knife and lunge for his charge, should any of them slip something into her tea.  The ladies thought that crows were not at all suitable pets, but perhaps ravens would be better.  Gears began to turn in the duchess' head.

"Who is Lady Pelta?" she hissed as they made their way to dinner.  The lady had been the subject of much conversation that afternoon.

"The one with the ferret," he murmured. 

"Ohhh!  Yes, that makes more sense." 

And then there was an awkward dinner with the king and some painfully blunt lords who quizzed her on the details of her studies and then talked past her as they discussed how her prayer regimen could be altered for better results.  

Link imagined how he would punch the first lord in the face, spin to smash the next lord's head into the table, and finish the turn with another punch to a third lord's throat before he pulled himself from his fantasy and reminded himself to be on guard.

The duchess was still at an age where she wanted to stay up late, and did not want to admit that she was exhausted by nine o'clock, so it was Link's job to approach her.  "Your Grace, you have a busy day tomorrow."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he gave her a blank stare.  "If you insist," she said, daintily removing her napkin from her lap.  Link bit back a smile.

As she entered her room with her handmaids, she said, "Goodnight, sir knight," as she always did because she liked the rhyme.

He bowed.  "Goodnight, Your Grace."

He nodded to the guard stationed at her door, handing off his protective duties, and then the rest of the evening was his.

And the only thing he wanted more than passing out and sleeping for twelve hours was to kick the crap out of something or have a really good spar.  Get his blood moving from where it sagged in his veins.  Remind his muscles what they were for, remind himself what he was capable of and why he was chosen for the honor of personal guard to the royal heir, why he was chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness, which was tragically quiet on his back.

So he went down to the guard's training area, where everyone gave him dirty looks, finishing up their own training abruptly and leaving.

Alone on the training floor, he allowed himself to sigh.

The sword sang as he pulled it from its scabbard.  Just the two of them then tonight.  Like always.

He'd spoken less than two dozen words today.

He set his feet and stared at his imaginary opponent, holding the defensive posture for several long beats to stretch the muscles awakening with the sword.  The first few forms were to stretch, but as the tension rolled from his shoulders the swings picked up speed, his pulse quickened and sweat raised along his hairline.

He reminded himself that the royal guard didn't hate him.  They hated the sword and how it represented the coming Calamity.  They hated the symbol.  But the sword was a part of him, and his life was a symbol, so that didn't really help.

Slash and parry and slash and stab.

They were just intimidated and jealous that he was so much more skilled than they were.  That wasn't a brag.  It was true.  There were only three royal guards who could hold their own against Link for more than a minute, and they were all ranked so high that they were too busy to spar with him and had no interest in being soundly beaten by a teenager in front of their subordinates.  Every now and then, the guards would get so ticked at him that they would come at him as a group.  That would get his blood pumping.  The problem was that when they did that, they meant it, and he actually did have to incapacitate everyone to get out unscathed and then he would get a stern lecture from one of the generals.

Slash and parry and slash and stab.

Why didn't any of them want to work on improving themselves?  Link was getting stale here with nothing to challenge him, and maybe teaching could be that challenge, maybe teaching would raise the entire level of competence among the guard.  Link was half tempted to put a sword in the duchess' hand until she improved and he would have someone to spar with.  He was half tempted to beg one of the champions to come visit or for Mipha or Urbosa to send a diplomatic entourage for no reason along with a bunch or warriors he could battle.  If not for the duchess, he would beg for a transfer.

Slash, parry, slash, stab.

"Have you ever thought of joining the Yiga?"

He spun before the words sunk in.  He'd thought he was alone

The rest of the guard had left when he came in.

And then he was facing a Yiga foot soldier, leaning against the banister at the bottom of the stairs, their arms crossed and a sickle hanging from each hand.  Their faceless head was tilted as if inspecting him.  "I think you'd do well there."

He lunged.  Just before his blade skewered them, they teleported in a puff of smoke and a flutter of red tickets.  He spun, and his sword caught against their sickles.

"You’re fast.  The Yiga appreciate speed."

The Yiga's voice was light and lyrical.  A woman.

He shoved, pushing her back and back and back, quick footwork and his sword working double time to block and push.  She alternated slashing her sickles in quick twists of her wrist and in full body swings with more power than he would expect of her small frame behind them.  He had to duck and dodge and dart, the length of his reach made null when she pushed in close, and then immediately necessary again when he won another step of ground.  He pushed all the way until she was a single step from the wall and his blade was at her throat, caught an inch from her skin by both her sickles.

They wrestled and he glared, his sword caught, the muscles of his arm straining, just an inch away from ending her.  Just.  One.  Inch.  The sickles trembled as she pushed back, and he allowed himself a small smile of victory.

But then the trembling stopped.  She leaned forward as if there was no strain at all in her arms and shoulders and core.  As if she'd been putting on a show of a struggle and now she was bored.  "You're strong too.  We could have a lot of fun together.”

He didn't let his surprise show.  He threw a punch at her gut with his free hand, but she poofed away and he stumbled forward before spinning, ready for the next attack.

She whispered in his ear, "So grumpy."

He hissed and twisted, and she caught his blade against her own, twisting and locking, and suddenly she had the sword locked between both sickles in one hand.  With her free hand, she reached out and dragged a gloved finger from his forehead to the tip of his nose.

He twisted the sword free, scattering her sickles across the floor, and the sword spun in an arc to slam against her side, caught at the last minute by a knife. 

She laughed and leaned in.   "Think about it."

He stumbled as she vanished.

Link stood at the ready for a stressed minute, his eyes darting about the room, waiting for her next attack. Then he dashed up the stairs, but there was no sign of her there or in the hallway beyond.  An then he was running for the general's office, praying he was still around and could sound the alarm.

#Zelda #my fic #Yiga!Zelda

[katsukikitten]

Part one, no real warnings yet. Enjoy!

Bakugou's personal phone rings from the pocket of his hero costume for the umpteenth causing his skin to pop. All the while Kirishima allows his ruby gaze to fall over the hot head, having a good guess about just who is blowing up his phone. Worry snatches at Kirishima's heart for a moment forcing the question from his lips, even if it meant regretting it. 

"Are you sure your mom is okay?" Bakugou freezes in his step, inclining his head to fix a garnet glare at his so called friend. He sucks in a breath to yell, body tense and in a fighting stance before his phone blares again.

"FUCK!" He shouts into the night with only Kirishima and the moon to hear. The trees swallow his frustration as he rips his phone from his pocket, answering it so harshly the LCD beneath the screen ruptures. 

"What?! What the fuck do you want you God Damn hag?! I'm WORKING! Saving LIVES!" It had been a long time since he had called his mother hag, long enough there was silence on the other line for a moment. 

Then much like her son she takes a deep breath and now Kirishima, the moon and the trees know why Mitsuki was calling at such a late hour. Kirishima sighs with relief nothing is so dire as life and death, although for Mitsuki it is. 

"IF YOU DON'T BRING THIS GHOST OF A GIRLFRIEND OF YOURS I SWEAR TO KAMISAMI THERE WILL BE NO MORE NUMBER ONE HERO WHEN IM THROUGH WITH YOU. IM GETTING OLD I NEED FUCKING GRANDKIDS. THINK OF YOUR SWEET OLD FATHER HE AIN'T GETTING ANY FUCKING YOUNGER!" 

"That's what this was about?! Ma for the last fucking time I don't-" 

"You don't what? One of those hoes you sleep with has to like even your rude ass. Bring a decent one home." And with that Bakugou is left with the sound of three tones and a ringing in his ear. He grips the bridge of his nose, having no earthly idea of how to get his mother off of his back, let alone find a woman. The phone rings in his hand again, the screen filled with dead pixels and rainbow lines causing him hot to be able to see. Somehow it registers his touch as he goes from memory to answer. 

"What you fucking hag?!" He screams into the receiver. 

"Wow. Rude." You reply with a bite, "Just calling to tell you boss that I'm clocking out, dickhead." 

"I-I thought you were my mom." 

"Oh and that makes it better?" What an ass! 

"Fuck you." He growls, looking at Kirishima's watch, "You're clocking out way too early." 

"No, fuck you. I requested to be off by this time MONTHS ago. You can ask Eijirou-san, you approved it so he made the schedule accordingly." You quip, twirling one of your knives in your hands, "Besides I've been working waaay too long today. Oh and I found that perp hours ago." 

"What the fuck?! Why didn't you tell me hours ago?" 

"I fucking tried, you ignored my call. This was my third attempt." You slam the knife through the paperwork on your desk wishing it were the hot head's thigh. You rise as your eyes glance over the clock. If you didn't hurry this stupid phone call up, you were going to be late. You needed to sneak in before midnight. 

"Still too early for you. Normally you want the OT." He bites, causing you to roll your eyes. 

Gods you hated this guy. 

"Yea, well tonight is different." You'd pay in the long run for leaving so soon but tonight was special. She asked you to be there the last time you saw her and you promised. 

You never break a fucking promise. 

"Some subordinate you are bitch face." He growls then an idea pops into his head. 

Subordinate. 

As in you reported to him, as in Bakugou Katsuki was your boss. And well you had to listen to your boss to some extent and he knew you needed money, you tell him day in and day out it's the only  reason you would even dream to work with him. 

Although he has no idea why you are so hard out for cash. 

So he sets the bait, offering you a deal you can't refuse. 

"Tomorrow is your planned day off right?" 

"Yea what fucking of it?!" 

"I've got a special mission for you-" 

"No." You interrupt, already feeling the exhaustion of your seventy hour work week stacking up. 

"You didn't even let me finish you ungrateful brat. It will be three times your pay for half a day's work. Cold hard cash." The other side of the line goes silent. Licking your lips you think over his offer, fuck, that would actually help get your head above water. 

The light at the end of the tunnel. 

If only you knew how dark this tunnel was going to be. 

"Fine. I'll take your stupid fucking offer." 

"Promise?" His voice sounds a bit different, a little bit of a tease to it, as if he knows something you don't. 

"What are we in kindergarten. Yea I promise, fucking headass." With that you hang up, rushing down the steps of the agency building and into the cold air. 

Your phone buzzes with a text 

BakaBoss: Meet me at the agency, 11am sharp.

You roll your eyes, turning your phone to silent as you watch the nightly set of nurses do their normal routine. Barely making it in time for the security guard and head nurse to make their way outside by the one way back door for a smoke. Both too lazy to walk around to the front of the hospital, sticking a thin splintering wood block between the jam and the door, giving you easy access to the stairwell. When they were far enough away you slip into the door, sure to place the wood where they left it before climbing the stairs two at a time, racing the clock at the top half of the 11th hour. The janitor would have already mopped her floor and the only nurse on floor six was currently on the ground level half way through the small tobacco stick, she wouldn't be sticking her head into room 609 anytime soon. 

You draw in a deep breath, collecting yourself and forcing back the tears as you picked the lock, a skill set that not only were you amazing at but the very same skill that landed you here. 

And by here you mean stupid ass hero work all thanks to some "reforming" program by Izuku Miydoria. Still it was better than having to break out of jail in order to make cash, her bills weren't going to pay themself. 

You stick a stolen credit card in between the door jab and the door, right at the locking mechanism, although you could break out of just about anywhere, this would be the faster method of escape. 

"Hey, sis, I made it!" You say softly but with excitement, watching as she keeps her back to you. Her eyes wide from a mixed cocktail of chemicals and trauma, she stares out into the sky, counting the stars. 

It would be one of those nights where she was too warped to tell you were there. With a sigh you sink onto her mattress. If you could even fucking call it that. It was more like a box spring with a fitted sheet over top of it, you were still figuring out how you could sneak a mattress in. 

"I got you something." You say crawling to sit next to her cross legged, she turns to you and it's like looking in a mirror. Except one of you is covered in visible scars and the other is not. Hers are more than skin deep. Seeing her dull gaze never gets any easier, she stares through you for a long time before she does as she always does. 

Lifting her hand gently to cup your cheek so her thumb can slide over your scar. 

"How'd you get this?" Her voice is barely hers and it grabs a fist full of your guts pulling them downward. Everytime she asks that question you see the shine of a blade, a swipe of a strong hand and vision filled with blood.

Yours, there's but never hers. You like to tell yourself that's what counts but maybe you had a hand in breaking her. 

You clear your throat, pulling a bag onto your lap. 

"Nevermind that." You gently guide her hand away from your cheek and to her lap. When she makes no motion for the gift bag you force a smile as icy guilt collects in your chest. 

"It's for our birthday silly! Can you believe we are 26 today?" You place the pillow on her lap and her hands slowly go to the plush material. 

For a moment she has returned, flashing you a smile as she pushing into the soft material before she flickers out again. Like a light with just enough current to wink in and out of existence. 

Time passes and the clock strikes midnight, white clad shoes stomp against the polished floor signaling it was time to leave. 

"I'll try to see you soon okay?" You lean over kissing her hairline before grabbing at the old, flat pillow. Shoving it into the gift bag as you silently bound the room. Pushing the door open slightly as you slip the stolen card into the back pocket of your black jeans.  With that you are down the hall and through the backdoor without raising any sort of alarm as usual. 

Suddenly your phone weighs heavy in your pocket as you think of what kind of stupid errand that asshole was going to put you on. The stolen card sings in your pocket, begging to be used. So you slip into a bar to give it a good use. 

&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

A blaring alarm yanks you from the bed in a sweating panic. Knife instinctively slashing the air before you send the blade into yet another digital alarm clock. Falling back into the mattress for just a moment's peace.

That peace doesn't last long once you show up at the agency. If anything is sours as you see Bakugou leaning against the bright white brick and in civilian clothes no less. 

"What's this?" You pick at his black dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his banded forearms.  He's paired it with a pair of black jeans, one knee ripped. Oddly it looks good together. Not overly dressed nor too dressed down. His vermilion eyes glide over your figure in your black body con hero suit. He sucks his teeth, hating this next part. 

"Called clothes dumbass. Speaking of we need to get you something fitting."

"For what? What exactly is this 'mission'?" 

"I'll debrief you later. Right now we need to get you new clothes." You laugh in his face before your rich expression turns deadly 

"With what money?" 

"Calm down, it's my treat Princess." He says with satire, the name sits odd on his tongue and even more odd in your stomach. He snatches at your wrist, "Come on before the stores get crowded and we get noticed." 

You find yourself in a shop filled with dresses and fancy blouses. All of which you hate. Bakugou seems to hate them too, too guady for his taste. Still he shifts through the soft silks because he knows his mother will love it. 

"Oi, you can't find a single decent thing here? I thought women loved shopping." 

"Yea for shit we like asshole." You hiss to him, having only found a pair of dark blue jean's. 

"Heh." He scoffs, rolling his eyes until he finds the perfect top. It looks decent and it could be your style. The one thing he learned about being undercover was to not stray too far from what looked natural or from the truth. 

"Put this on. While I find a necklace." He shoves the silky top into your hands and you look at the price tag. Suddenly anxiety burns in the soles of your feet soaring up to close your throat. 

"Bakugou. This is too much." Katsuki stops to glance over his shoulder, this is the first time you've used his name since he hired you three years ago. He sees your hand gripping at your bicep and he watches the rare tell sign that you're nervous as you chew on one of the scars that creeps onto your lip. He comes up to you, closer than he ever has been before, your senses flood with spiced caramel. 

"Oi." His voice is smooth, almost soft as he touches a ringed index finger to your forearm. You fixate on the shining black ring and your old habits have you thinking of six different ways to get it off of his finger. The thought soothes you as much as his voice surprisingly does. 

"I said I'm buying, remember you brat?" The teasing returns back to his voice before it turns gruff, "Now go change to make sure I like it. I'll be back in a second." 

A woman unlocks a small dressing room for you and once inside you hold your breath. Counting as you remind yourself that you cannot and will not steal anything of value while your boss was here. 

If you were any other person you would tap this Prohero's account dry, really rack up that platinum card you know sat in his wallet and sell the clothes marked up for a profit later. 

But even as much as you hated Bakugou, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

Instead you slip into the the outfit adjusting yourself this way in that as the neckline says enough without saying too much. The jeans curving against your figure in such a way doing as good as a job as your hero suit. You keep your steel toed boots as you step into the small hall with the three mirrors. As you turn this way and that Bakugou appears behind you, almost earning a knife to his gut. He forces the silver blade away before pulling out a necklace from a bag he just bought.  The gold chain is dainty, going through the top of the garnet making it seen as if it were a suspended droplet of blood. 

It marches the eyes that roll over you as he takes a step back before his harsh mouth breathes out a word. 

"Fuck."

Instantly it kills your mood as your lip pulls back over sharp teeth.

"Tsk. It's not that bad, God how do you get any pussy." You grumble, smoothing down the black blouse. 

"No, dumbass. You look...you look perfect." He stares into your eyes through the mirror, his smile growing wider as they wander over your scars and finally land onto that minimalistic drop pendant necklace. 

Over something you've never been able to have, something you always had to swipe from an unsuspecting neck and then pawn. 

"Now. I'm going to tell you here, in this store of crowded people so you don't cause a scene." 

"What?!" Anger already begins to bubble in your blood. The blades that kiss your flesh start to scream for relief. 

"From now on you have to pretend to be my girlfriend. Paparazzi are starting to swarm outside of this fucking boutique and my mom follows this particular trash tabloid since they love to use me as click bait. You just have to make it through dinner tonight and if shit goes south I'll pay you even more." 

#bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha au #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you

[miracle-sham]

Crack Your Bones and Say Those Lies.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 3: And They Were Roommates} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |

———

| After getting roped into the Vigilante life by Chat Noir, her friend and partner in crime, Maladroit tries her best to help fight crime to make the city a better place, if only Red Hood and his gang would stop causing problems. |

| Or alternatively, Marinette and Jason are roommates with secrets. Both have huge crushes on each other but more importantly, both are trying to juggle moonlighting as their secret identities. However, when watching the nightly news together, everything changes. |

| Word Count: 5,014. |

| Warnings/Tags: No Miraculous/Different Powers Au, Roommates, minor gang mentions/Red Hood is a gang lord, gun violence, Vigilantism, Identity Shenanigans/Mistakes, Miscommunication, some emotional hurt, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, and Domestic fluff. Also Oblivious, Protective, & Mutually Pining Marinette and Jason. |

———

| A/N: Hey! Sorry this is nearly a week late but where I live got hit with a nasty heatwave and I was barely able to write from sheer exhaustion from the heat. But on a happier note, I'm so glad I've finally been able to write and post a proper Vigilantes au (as in like Spidey style vigilantism with homemade gear and all!) Because that kinda Vigilante au especially combined with roommates is my favourite trope ever! Well maybe joint with Dragonrider AUs, but still! I've had multiple Vigilante Aus sitting in my notes and drafts so it's brilliant to finally release one into the wild! Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's Friday night, and Maladroit and Chat Noir are midway through their usual patrol of their slice of territory in the city.

“Race you to the billboard!” Chat Noir calls out, snickering in an almost cat-like-chitter as he launches himself forwards. Swinging over Maladroit's head with his grapple, he lands on the next roof ahead, in a perfect three-point landing.

Maladroit giggles, “Oh, you're so on!” She grabs her grapple and shoots. Swinging after him and onto the same roof. She instead, dive forward rolls for her landing and uses the momentum to propel her into a run.

Losing his lead due to the momentum loss of the three-point landing, Chat Noir vaults over a roof vent.

Forced to swerve to the side, Maladroit barely dodges a massive puddle of rainwater on her side of the roof.

Neck and Neck, the two raced across the rooftop. Closer and closer to the billboard they raced.

Nearly there! She thinks, c'mon! Reaching an arm out to slap the billboard—

Bzzt!

“Eep!” She yelps, startled by the buzzing crackle of her earring-comms. Unintentionally, she accidentally veers to the side and crashes straight into Chat Noir's side.

They collide with a loud thud, and two of them crumple into a pile.

“Graceful as ever, Mal.” A voice teases over her earring-comms. “Joking aside, didn't mean to spook you, sorry!”

Maladroit groans, “thanks,” and gingerly extracts herself from the vigilante limb pile.

“Gamer!” Chat Noir cheers, having heard him through his own disguised comms. “Got any crimes for us to fight tonight?”

There's a chuckle over the line, “Lucky you should ask, Chat, I do happen to have found some villainous plans for you to thwart.”

Chat Noir cracks his knuckles and stretches. “Oh? What are they?”

“Two which are time-sensitive.” Gamer adds.

Maladroit stifles a squawk, “Two! That are time-sensitive?” Her voice goes up a pitch on the last word, making it sound like a question.

“Uh-huh.” He confirms. “Chat Noir, there's a break-in at a jewellery store two blocks over from you. I'm sending you the directions now to your phone.”

Chat Noir does a two-fingered salute to the nearest security camera. “Got it, G! Detective Noir is on the case!”

“And Maladroit, we've got reports of sightings of Red Hood outside his usual area. By the Warehouses on fourth. There are no security cams around there so I've got nothing but rumours to go on. See if you can check it out and find out what he's up to.” Gamer informs her, sounding slightly irritated at the fact he's got little information to give her.

Maladroit nods, grumbling slightly. “When isn't he up to something.”

Slinging an arm around her shoulder, Chat Noir grins like the Cheshire Cat. “C'mon, Mal! It'll be a quick sweep and nothing will turn up like the last twenty times we've gotten this kinda tip-off!”

“You owe me ice cream from André's when we're in civvies tomorrow!” She huffs. “I made us macarons last time!”

“I haven't forgotten!” Chat Noir protests. “Anyway, see you tomorrow if we don't catch each other for the end of the patrol?”

Maladroit nods. “Yep! See ya later Minou!”

The two split. Chat Noir dashing after the directions, and Maladroit swinging towards the warehouses on fourth.

———

Breathe, Maladroit—reminds herself, perched on the rafters in one of the warehouses on fourth. Staring at the blood-red glowing mask of the red hooded villain, who happens to be oh so creatively named the 'Red Hood', leaning on the balcony railing on the opposite side of the warehouse to her rafter, and presumably glaring up at her.

“It's you again, Maladroit.” He growls, distorted by whatever voice modifier he's got wired into his mask.

She can't help but wince at the reminder of the word she had accidentally said the first time she had ever helped Chat Noir fight crime. Which irritatingly enough, stuck as her vigilante name. Especially since her second attempt at a name, Ladybug, didn't stick. She frowns beneath the black and red spotted bandana covering her mouth, and tightly grips her bladed yo-yo—with piano wire instead of string—of the same colour scheme.

“What are you planning, Red Hood?” She spits out, voice also modified by her bandana, a tad too grumpy and bitterly for the awkward-but-smiley "persona" she's supposed to act like (although it's not so much of a persona when that's just how she is almost all the time). But in her defence, she's had a rough day at uni, things have been awkward at home because of her crush on her roomie lately, and more importantly, Red Hood's lackeys have been a pain in the neck for the past week, so her reaction is more than warranted.

He has the audacity to laugh. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Pipsqueak?”

“Well,” Maladroit huffs, “I was hoping you were feeling considerate.”

Red Hood shifts his shoulders. “Aww, sorry Pipsqueak. I'm not feeling particularly considerate today.” In a split second, he slips both guns from his holsters, spins them, and shoots.

Maladroit squeaks, instinctively tugging on her power, and dives off the rafter to dodge the shot. “Rude!”

She's just able to shoot her grapple off and swing up to another metal beam.

“How the fuck do you keep dodging my shots?” He snarls, gesturing at her with his guns in short angry-looking motions.

In response, she throws her yo-yo at him, tugging on her power again. The yo-yo spins through the air, slashing through the Red Hood's jacket sleeve and slicing a deep groove into the gun, then rewinds on the wire back to her. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Bullet Boy!” She parrots back, cheekily.

“Hey!” Red Hood snaps, aiming another shot at her.

Tugging on her powers once more, Maladroit yelps as she swings to yet another metal rafter beam in order to avoid the shot. “Your aim sucks!”

“Fuck you!” He retorts, firing off four more shots aimed at her head.

There's a horrifying moment as she barely manages to tug on her powers in time. The bullets barely skimming past her hood, one even tearing the fabric slightly.

“Mal!” Comes Gamer's terrified voice over her earring-comms, “I need you to pull back immediately! Red Hood and his gang have been spotted nearby and Chat can't get to you in time to back you up if you do get into a fight!”

She raises a hand to her earrings and quietly laughs hysterically. “Little too late for that, G! I'm uh currently staring… face to gun to him”

“Oh, fuck!” Gamer responds, voice going up a pitch. “I'm contacting Chat now. Try and get out if you can but prioritise not getting yourself killed, please!”

Red Hood fires his guns again. “Eyes and ears on me, Pipsqueak.”

Squeaking yet again, Maladroit desperately tugs on her power once more and swings to another rafter. Her heart thunders in her chest as loudly as his gunfire. She spits out a frantic, “no promises!” to both of them.

“I've informed him, your backup is on the way.” Gamer tells her.

The main warehouse doors clatter open with a resounding slam! Followed by the stomping of multiple pairs of boots storming inside.

Maladroit waves at Red Hood, the quiet terrified hysterical laughter practically bubbling out of her mouth. “Haha, well I'm afraid that's my cue to Bug Out!”

“Oh, I don't think so, Pipsqueak.” Red Hood taunts, shooting six bullets at her, rapid-fire. “I ain't finished with our convo yet.”

Squeaking for the umpteenth time, and really just giving him even more reason to keep giving her that stupid pipsqueak nickname, she riskily shoots her grapple, aiming and swinging towards the warehouse's large balcony windows.

“Get the fuck back here!” He snarls, voice deepening with fury. Pausing to reload before firing off more shots at her with abandon.

Maladroit wriggles midair, tugging on her powers to try and dodge the shots. She curls into a dive forward roll as the grapple forces her to land onto the balcony. The same one that Red Hood has been stood on this entire time. Oh, help me! She thinks, eyes widening behind her makeshift red with black tinted lenses, goggles-slash-domino mask.

He aims his gun at her once more. “Move and you fucking die, pipsqueak.”

Putting her hands in the air, she swallows a gulp of air. Her body armour is padded beneath her red, and black spotted, hoodie but it isn't bulletproof. And she can feel the straining exhaustion of overusing her powers clawing at her.

They're at a standoff. Still as statues, the both of them. It's almost poetic how they parallel each other. He's got his gun aimed at her, whilst she's desperately clutching at her grappling hook gun in one of her raised hands. Both donned in red. Both committing crimes in the eyes of the law. Two sides of the same coin, one and the same.

Maladroit feels sick to her stomach, staring down the barrels of his guns. Ever so slowly, she tugs on her powers. The window a little bit behind her creaks quietly enough that Red Hood doesn't seem to notice beneath the clamour of his gang doing whatever it is they're doing below.

She counts her breath and tugs on her power. A minute passes with no movement, no words, nothing happening on the balcony. Out of the corner of her eye, she can just see that it's now open enough that she should be able to make it out unscathed. Or at least mostly unscathed.

Closing her eyes, not that he can see, her power snaps. Instinctively she doubles over and slaps a hand over her mouth. Barely in time as a stifled scream is yanked from her throat, leaving her panting for breath. Her knees crash onto the balcony flooring. A bullet whizzes past her neck.

“Shit. What the fuck was that?” Red Hood grumbles, sounding genuinely concerned. He storms across the balcony towards her.

Maladroit can't help but flinch, bodily throwing herself back as far away from him as she can. Mind racing in panic.

He stows one gun back into a holster then reaches a hand towards her. “Hey, hey, hey. Calm down.”

“Gotta go! Bug-bye!” She squeaks out, wrenching on her power with all her remaining strength, and bolting for the window.

“I think the fuck not! Fucking pretending to be hurt.” Red Hood barks, ripping the gun back out of its holster.

Narrowly dodging the spray of bullets shot at her, Maladroit dives through the window and fires off her grapple. Safely swinging far away from the warehouse.

———

Carefully Maladroit drops with the ease of far too many nights of practise, onto the fire escape outside her bedroom window. She crouches and lets the shadows of the night hide her form. Creeping closer, she checks the windowsill for any marks or signs of tampering but it all comes away untouched. Content with her quick security check, she fumbles for the disguised piece of string wedging the window ajar in a way that's barely visible unless you know where to look for it. Got it! She thinks to herself, grabbing ahold of it and prying it, and the window above it, up and open.

Slipping through the open window, she sits on the sill to rip her thankfully not-too-dirty studded steel-toed boots off. Picking them up in one hand, she wiggles the rest of the way into her room and immediately resets the security measures, yanking the curtain down for privacy.

Maladroit then shuffles over to her bed. Tikki—her gorgeous fluffy red and dark brown miniature dachshund—blinks sleepily up at her, from the dog bed next to it. The puppy yaps in greeting before snuffling and curling back up to sleep.

She coos at the cuteness before continuing on. With the other hand not carrying the boots, she pries the blanket covered duffel bag out from underneath. Wrestling to unzip it in one janky and awkward motion, grunting slightly at the exertion. The metal of the zip digs in but the discomfort is mostly mitigated by the padded gloves and wrist guards she's wearing. The easy to clean plastic bag designated for temporary storing of her boots is dragged out of the bag and said boots are tossed in without a second glance.

Huffing, she starts to take the rest of her cross between mostly homemade and refashioned sports kit vigilante gear off. First, tugging down the hood of her hoodie and unclipping the black scrum cap hidden under it. It's dumped unceremoniously into a secondary plastic bag in the open duffel bag. After that, Maladroit removes the black neck guard and pulls her makeshift goggles-slash-domino mask over her head. Those too, are dumped into the other plastic bag. Then she unties the bandana with the nose guard underneath, from around her mouth and nose. Unsurprisingly, they're also dumped in the bag.

Next, she undoes the velcros on her red and black padded gloves, black wrist guards, as well as black elbow, knee, and shin pads. Also dumped into the other bag. With the outer protective wear removed, Maladroit pulls her hoodie over her head. Continuing on, she peels the padded rugby body armour and shorts off, and then the thermal under-armour. All dumped into the third and final plastic bag. “I swear,” Maladroit mumbles to herself, “getting changed out my gear never gets easier. And to think back when I had my last P.E. lesson at school, I thought I'd never have to touch this kinda kit ever again. Rip me.”

Lastly, Marinette—no longer Maladroit seeing as she is no longer in her vigilante gear—throws on her running-to-the-bathroom spare bathrobe to cover herself. She hastily shoves the three plastic bags into the duffel bag and kicks it under her bed. Purposefully leaving it unzipped but quickly fixing the blanket covering the bag, so that she can more easily grab her kit to clean everything later, whilst keeping it sufficiently hidden.

With that mostly taken care of, she nabs the mouthguard case, some clean pyjamas, and dashes out of her room—clinging awkwardly to the bathrobe. She hops in the apartment's shared bathroom, the rest of the place is silent, meaning her roomie, Jason, must have gone out. Still, Marinette locks the door regardless. If there's one thing she's learnt in her foray into the nightly masked vigilantism, is that one can never be too careful.

“Shit! Nearly forgot to take this out.” She grumbles to herself, just as she was stepping into the shower. Prying the mouthguard out of her mouth as she shuffles over to the sink, she gives it a quick rinse under the tap. Followed by a thorough scrubbing with her toothbrush and glob of toothpaste. She pops it into the mouthguard case and leaves it on the side of the sink for now.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Marinette finally allows herself to indulge in a good half an hour-long hot shower to get the grime from a night of crime-fighting off of herself.

She's only just drying off her hair, having already changed into her pyjamas, when the blare of the TV echoes through the apartment. Tensing up, her anxiety runs wild. It's what they get for living in the cheaper but slightly dodgy apartments where the walls are thin and the doors are thinner. Grabbing the mouthguard case, she wraps it up in the bathrobe and peeks out the bathroom door and looks down the hall into the open plan kitchen lounge. Jason's back, he's sitting on the sofa watching the TV.

Shoulders untensing, she finished drying her hair and heads out into the hallway. In place of a greeting, she exclaims, “oh! Jason, you're back!”

Jason flinches slightly and looks over his shoulder back at her. “Yeah, a friend had an emergency so, y'know.”

Immediately, concern wrenches at Marinette's heart, “oh no, I'm sorry. Are they… okay?”

He waves a hand in a so-so gesture and clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. They're fine now.”

“That's good!” She says, nodding, as she makes her way fully into the lounge and the TV catches her attention. “Oh is it nearly the eleven o'clock news already? I need to watch this! Alya texted me earlier saying I have to, and she sounded really excited!” Glancing down at the bundle in her arms and flushes red. “Actually, I'll be back in a second!”

“I'll yell as soon as it actually starts.” Jason offers, smiling warmly at her.

Marinette just misses the smile, rushing back to her room, and throwing a quick, “thanks,” over her shoulder back at him.

Also missing his smile turn fond and the good-natured roll of his eyes at her antics.

Barely half a minute passes before she's bounding back into the lounge, with a sleepy Tikki at her heels. She plops herself down on the sofa next to him and hopes the blush on her face could simply be mistaken for the flush of running about like a mad thing instead. Tikki whines until Marionette picks her up and lets her on the sofa with them, padding over to the furthest corner to curl up in.

Jason points to the pink floral steaming mug on the coffee table, right next to his Pride Prejudice and Zombies themed mug. “Whilst you were in the shower, I made us both hot chocolates with marshmallows, my granddad Alfie's recipe.”

“Oh!” Marinette responds in pleasant surprise. She turns to him and positively beams, eyes shining with happiness. “Thank you so much, Jason! You're always so thoughtful!”

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, well, I thought it's only fair since you normally make 'em. And I visited Alfie recently, and I promised to get you his recipe to try, so I thought it'd be a nice surprise for once!” He pauses and points at the big bowl also on the coffee table, “also I cooked us some popcorn.”

“Aw! Thank you again! I really appreciate this!” She scoops up the hot chocolate with slight reverence and takes a sip. Immediately her face lights up even more in joy. “Oh, this is delicious!”

Jason chuckles, “isn't it the best! I'll pass that onto Alfie though, he'll be glad to know you like it so much. Speaking of which, he's gonna give making them a try next time I'm up since I wasn't there long enough this time. Would you fancy coming with me to see him, then?”

Her eyes widen and her heart stutters in her chest, feeling close to bursting from happiness. “I'd love to! Do you have a date when you're thinking of going up?”

He nods. “Yeah, maybe around—”

But he's interrupted by the starting audio of the eleven o'clock news.

They both immediately shut up and watch the screen intently as the news anchors appear on the show. The starting discussion is somewhat boring, talking about the local billionaire Wayne-or-something business and a related upcoming charity event of some sort.

Marinette doesn't pay attention to it, but she does catch Jason wrinkling his nose and scowling at the conversation.

Luckily, the topic shifts quickly enough. “And now, over to our newest reporter, Alya. We hear there's been some rumblings regarding the conflict between local vigilante Chat Noir, his sidekick Maladroit, and the gang controlled by the infamous Red Hood himself.”

“That's stupid,” Jason grumbles, “Maladroit is a fully-fledged vigilante in her own right and not just the catboy's sidekick. That's like saying Nightwing is Batman's sidekick!”

Marinette frowns, very touched by his words and trying her damnedest to appear nonchalant. “I don't know… from all the-uh news clips, Maladroit seems like Chat Noir's sidekick to me. She's always hovering nervously near him like a strong wind would spook her.”

“C'mon! She's been reported to have held her own against Red Hood on multiple occasions, alone!” He argues, sounding rather offended on her alter egos behalf.

Scoffing, she shakes her head. “Clearly that's because he's going easy on her! He's never directly shot her, according to the reports clearly, he's soft on her!” The lies taste bitter on her tongue.

Jason splutters and flushes bright red, turning away from her slightly. “W-well that's obviously a testament to her skill and not Red Hood's mercy! He's always reported as being a merciless killer, why'd he be soft on her!”

“I don't know!” She makes a dying-choking noise as she flushes even more red than earlier. Shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth to avoid having to respond any further.

Luckily, the news shows pans over to Alya standing in front of a screen showing a recorded feed of a warehouse. Not just any warehouse, but specifically the one on fourth that Maladroit had faced Red Hood in less than an hour ago.

Marinette feels her pulse quicken at the reminder of the close shave she'd had.

“Hey wait a second, those warehouses don't have security cameras at all? How'd they get this footage?” Jason complains, eyes narrowed at the TV.

It feels as though ice has been poured down her spine at his words. She freezes, body stiffening in shock. He's right… G said there's none because that's why he asked me to check things out. The only people who'd know this are Chat, Gamer, myself, and Red Hood and his gang. She swallows thickly and tries to subtly side-eye Jason. Oh no. I've been crushing on my roommate who works for Red Hood's gang? Oh god! The friend with the emergency was referring to Red Hood calling him into work!

She can't help but inhale a shallow panicked breath. He could've been one of the lackeys shooting at me and Chat this past week. Or, or I could've hurt him with my yo-yo. Or—

Jason turns to fully face, clearly registering the blatant panic on her face. “Hey, hey, hey, Marinette, you're okay, you're safe. What's wrong?”

“Are you working for Red Hood?” Marinette blurts out, accidentally, the words pouring out in an unintentional panicked rush. “Are you in his gang?”

He jerks back, fear, confusion, and hurt crosses his face. “Wh-what? What makes you think that?”

“His gang was just in that warehouse, and you were out on an emergency for a "friend". And how would you have known unless you were there tonight and working for his gang?” She chews her lip forcefully and winces as the taste of iron floods her mouth.

He reaches towards her, eyes widening concern.

She flinches back, suddenly reminded of how similar this is to that moment with Red Hood on the warehouse balcony.

Jason jerks back as if her flinching burnt him. Raising his hands, he leans away from her to give her some semblance of space. “Fuck. Look, I'm not going to hurt you! Have I ever hurt you whilst we've been roomies?”

Nervously, she shakes her head.

“I really care about you, Marinette. Hell, we've lived together for nearly a year now. I would never hurt you, okay! I promise.” Tears prick in his eyes, and he grimaces slightly, lowering his hands to rest on his lap. “Yeah, I uh, I'm working for him. But I do everything I can to keep work from following me home. I didn't tell you because I never wanted to scare you.”

Guilt gnaws at her. “I'm sorry! I shouldn't have judged. I—” She takes a shaky breath, “I really really care about you too. I'm just worried, what if Red Hood, or even Maladroit, or any of the other vigilantes hurt you? What if you get hurt in one of those gang wars?” Her words aren't lies but they're not the full truth either.

He sighs, “I can't promise I won't ever get hurt on the job. Maladroit and the other vigilantes do a lot of good but Maladroit especially is far too nice to hurt any of us. I've uh, seen her fight some of the others gang members, and been fought by her too. And out of everyone against the gang, she's the one who leaves us with barely more than a scratch at worst.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Most in the gang really respect her for that, y'know.”

Marinette's brain feels like the windows shutting down sound. “Oh. Oh.”

Sheepishly, he smiles half-heartedly at her. “Yeah.”

“So, is that why you were so adamant she's a fully-fledged vigilante in her right?” She asks, feeling bashful yet honoured whilst completely surprised.

Jason clears his throat and glances away. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” Her brain rewinds a moment. She splutters for a second, desperation racing through her. “Wait, she's fought you!?”

Full-on grimacing, he nervously laughs. “Left but a scratch!”

“Are you misquoting Monty Python right now? Oh good gods, that's the knight who says that after getting his limbs chopped off!” Marinette exclaims, looking every bit as horrified as her tone of voice conveys.

“Seriously, I've never gotten worse than a couple of minor cuts and bruises, I'm fine!” Jason reiterates.

She frowns and gingerly shuffles across the sofa closer to him. He keeps leaning back away, so she physically throws herself at him, pulling him into a tight hug. Incidentally burying her face in his shirt. “Okay, okay. Just, please let me know next time you get hurt. I've a friend who lived in a bad situation before, so I know how to help patch up minor injuries. Promise?”

Jason stiffens at the hug and slowly moves one hand to cup the back of her head whilst wrapping the other around her back. He shuts his eyes, cocking his head back and sighs. “Alright. I promise I'll tell you. And I'm sorry for keeping something this big from you. As I said, I was worried you'd be scared of me or that you'd get dragged into gang-related shit because of it.”

“You don't need to apologise.” Marinette mumbles in response, “I get it. I really do understand.” She bites at her sore bleeding lips again in guilt, her secret identity left unspoken on her tongue.

He shrugs, “so uh. I'm guessing you're still happy to stay roomies then, right?”

“Of course!” She responds without missing a beat hugging him even tighter.

Eventually, they release each other from the embrace to finish their now lukewarm hot chocolates and popcorn. The news continues playing, no longer forgotten in the background as the two try to act as if nothing has changed.

———

Jason collapses onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his phone and rings a number on autopilot.

The dial tone plays as the line connects. “Hey, whaddup Jay?”

“Holy fucking shit balls, man.” Jason groans. “I fucked up.”

Roy hums, “like need help burying a body fucked up or what?”

Jason groans even louder, smushing his face into his bed covers. “My roomie is smart, right. I accidentally let a tiny detail slip when we were chatting whilst watching the eleven o'clock news as usual. And she now thinks that I'm in Red Hood's gang.”

There's a long pause, before Roy bursts into raucous laughter. “Holy shit, I'm dying! She's not wrong!”

“Yeah. I know. She ain't right either though.” He grumbles in response. “She was absolutely terrified when she realised. Nearly had a full-on panic attack and everything.”

“Oh fuck.” Roy helpfully says.

Jason grunts in agreement. “She was also real concerned that Red Hood or the vigilantes have hurt me.”

“Well, that's better?” Roy offers, sounding rather unsure of his own words.

“Yeah but she's taken thinking I'm some low-level member of my gang this badly, how the fuck d'ya think she's gonna take finding out I'm the big bad Red Hood himself?” Jason sighs. “I don't want to ask her out without her knowing this, 'cause it could endanger her.”

Roy hums again, “well, you've been roommates this long already and she's been completely safe from the Vigilante-Gang life so far.”

There's a gentle thump as Jason lifts his head and throws it into the sheets again out of sheer frustration. He relents, reluctantly. “That's true…”

“See. And since it sounds like she's not planning on moving out, clearly she doesn't mind living with you. Just ask her out to dinner already.” Roy adds, cheerfully.

Huffing, he rolls over on the bed. “I'm starting to feel like those weird girl slumber party ads with the creepy phone-a-boy games.”

Roy wheezes, followed by a thudding noise and the distant sound of his cackling.

“Wow. And to think I called you for help. I'm offended.” Jason goads with no bite, waiting a few seconds to hear Roy's response but it's just more laughter.

He rolls his eyes and ends the call, not like Roy will mind. Throwing an arm over his face, Jason barely refrains from grabbing his pillow to scream into. He doesn't, obviously. Because the walls are thin enough that Marinette might hear him and he's worried her enough this night as is.

Sighing like a lovesick protagonist in a period romance novel, Jason moves his arm to run his fingers through his own hair. A date. Just gotta ask her at some point, to dinner at a fancy-ish restaurant. It'll be fine, what's the worst that can happen?

Her terrified reaction on the sofa flashes through his mind, followed by the reminder of how small and scared Maladroit had seemed when she had fallen to her knees on the warehouse balcony. There was no way that she was faking the pain, like he'd initially thought. She had practically staggered in her mad dash to escape. And there's no way for me to find out whether she got to somewhere safe afterwards. God, she could be lying dead in some dank alleyway for all I know right now. Fuck, I hope she's okay...

He groans in distress and shifts in place. Already feeling like he really won't be getting any sleep at all tonight at this rate, thanks to his concern for those two.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are much appreciated! |

| I decided to go close to canon for names this time, hence why Chat Noir remains unchanged but Max is Gamer (because A. that was his Akuma name, and B. he's like Player from Carmen Sandiego in this, couldn't help myself), and Marinette is Maladroit (from the first thing she calls herself in Origins). |

| Oh, also whilst it's not explicitly stated in the text; Marinette/Maladroit's has the power of luck/being lucky, Chat Noir has the power of being unlucky, and Red Hood has "Perfect Aim" aka he's a hitscan. Which is why Maladroit is able to dodge his bullets by making herself "lucky enough" to dodge in time. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Saturday Challenge #Jasonette July And They Were Roommates #Crack Your Bones and Say Those Lies #CYBaSTL #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

[supercxrpschild]

hearts to heal

hi, please read this prior to reading the piece !

so, i wrote this over the last few days. I was not in a good place, and I needed to write something cathartic. I wrote this because I feel so utterly alone and to have not one, but 4 people care so deeply about you, to hold you, to comfort you, take care of you - I crave it more than anything. 

there is a trigger warning for self-harm. it is not romanticed, this isn’t a story of giving up. it’s a story of family and hope - but please do be aware that there is scenes depicting it. there is also mentions of OCD, anxiety and depression. 

please be kind about this work, as i wasn’t sure whether or not to share it. 

Word Count: 2146 (i think my longest yet? it kinda got away from me...)

Alex frowned at the text she just received. It was from your school alerting her that you had not turned up to your first class.

“Something the matter, Director?” Brainy queries, leaning across the desk.

Alex looks up, “hm?”

“Your face has contorted into a displeased expression.”

“Oh, sorry Brainy. It’s all good, it’s just y/n. She didn’t turn up at school.”

Brainy furrows his brows, “That would make it day number 4, wouldn’t it, Director Danvers?”

Alex thought for a minute - he was right. She had been so wrapped up in work that she couldn’t keep track of days. She didn’t realise this was the fourth day within a week that she had been alerted by the High School of your non-attendance. What else hadn’t she noticed?

“Dammit. Brainy, I’ve gotta go. Do you think you could cover for me today? I know we have a lot of stuff going on but-”

“I will be happy to assume your duties for today, Director.” Alex smiles gratefully as she moves to go grab her stuff and head home,

“Thank you Brainy, I owe you.”

Alex rushed to her car, bumping into Kara on the way.

“Alex? Where are you going?”

“Shit, I’m sorry Kara, I forgot about our lunch today.” Kara shook her head and held her sister’s wrist, “Don’t worry about that, what’s up?”

“It’s y/n, she hasn’t been going to school and I just, I’ve been so busy here and we’ve barely even caught each other. I’m going home to check on her, I’m just so worried Kara, what if something’s really wrong and I just never noticed?” Kara moved her hand, so it was now holding Alex’s, trying to ground her some.

“Hey, whatever’s going on, it’ll be okay. You had a lot on this week, with the President visiting and then those alien’s taking hostages downtown. Y/n and you have an understanding for when work becomes like this. It’ll be okay.” Alex nods, rubbing her free hand across her face. “Now go get home to your girl, okay? And call me if you need anything. I’m with Lena tonight, but we can both come if need be.”

Alex thanked her sister again and then drove home, her heart beating out of her chest as she climbed the stairs to both of your apartment.

“Y/n?! Y/n, honey I got a text from the school – they said you weren’t there.” Alex called out as she dropped her bags.

“Y/n?” Alex looked around, everything was off and untouched.

As she walked around the apartment, she ran her hand through her hair, messing it from the slicked back style she had put it in a few hours before.

She walked into your room, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw your curled up in bed asleep. She debated for a moment on whether to wake you up or not, eventually going over and sitting by you, rubbing your arm softly.

“Mom?” you mumbled sleepily,

“Yeah honey.” You blinked the sleep out of your eyes,

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Alex said, her hand now moving the brush the hair from your face.

You shifted uncomfortably. It had been a good week of being able to hide everything from your mom, but it was never going to last forever.

“Y/n?, you wanna tell me why you haven’t been going to school?” You shook your head and tried to snuggle back down into your covers.

Alex moved so you were facing her again after turning away,

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here. But I’m here now and I need you to tell me what’s going on.” Your mom’s gentle hand threaded through your hair, though she chose not to comment on the state of it.

“I’m fine mom.” Alex used her free hand to move your face towards her. Your eyes were sunken in, dark circles under them. Your face was red and splotchy, and you looked exhausted.

“Baby, I can tell right now that you are not fine, so out with it.”

Tears began welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t break now, not after hiding things for months and months. What would she do when she finds out? Probably send you away, probably hate you.

You pushed the tears away, swiping at them furiously. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I know you don’t want to, y/n.”

“Then why won’t you leave me alone?!” Alex sat shocked; you had never raised your voice at her.

“Y/n- ”

“No! I don’t want help; I don’t need help. I am FINE.” You huffed and turned away.

Alex decided to give you a moment. A moment so she could think about what to do next. She didn’t want to force you to open up to her, because then it would lack genuineness and could damage the trust between you both. But she was so damn worried about you.

Within that minute that Alex had left you alone for, you managed to get past her and lock yourself in the bathroom – Alex only becoming aware when she heard the door shut.

“Dammit y/n.” She whispered to herself before knocking on the door.

“What mom!? Am I not allowed to pee alone anymore?!” You and her both knew that wasn’t what you were doing; and knowing your mom – a badass DEO agent – you had very limited time before the door was busted open.

You felt below the sink, pulling the blade from where you’d hidden it. Wasting no time, you slashed at your thighs, the relief immediate.

Right on time, Alex forced the door open.

“Oh baby.” You looked up at her, begging her not to get any closer. “Let’s put that down, alright y/n? Then we can get you cleaned up and talk.” You shook your head, feeling yourself become unwound.

“No, please. I just, I just need to do it two more times. It doesn’t work if its only once, please mom please.” Alex cringed slightly, how didn’t she notice that you had been on a downward spiral? That your OCD was coming back full force? That your eating habits changed, that your anxiety and depression were spiking again – how didn’t she realise?

“Y/n, please put it down.” You scooted across the floor, putting as much distance between you both as you could.

“I need it mom, please.” Tears rolled down your cheeks with no sign of stopping. Alex was doing the most to keep hers at bay. She couldn’t do this.

You look down at your thigh, blood dripping. You didn’t notice your mom flipping open her watch and pressing the button that had your aunt rushing through the door within the minute.

“Kara, please, I can’t – I don’t wanna hurt her. I don’t know how to stop her.” Kara took over, seeing her sister’s frantic state and pulled you into her lap, shushing you softly. You were no match for her kryptonian strength as she threw the blade towards your mom, who then flushed it.

You wailed and wailed, trying desperately to get out of Kara’s grip. She never wavered, just calmly whispering to you. Eventually, Alex pulled herself together and sat down on the bathroom floor with you both, noticing you beginning to stop fighting.

“My sweet, sweet girl.” She whispered, holding your face in her hands, kissing away the tears of anguish and suffering.

“Mommy.” You reached out from your Auntie Kara’s grip, latching onto Alex. “’m sorry mommy, ‘m sorry.”

“Shhh, shhh honey. It’s all okay. I’ve got you.” Alex paid no attention to the blood that was getting over her clothes. All she cared about was holding you tight.

Kara sat quietly, watching her niece and her sister who were both clearly in pain and scared. Alex usually always had control of situations, so when Kara came in to see her frozen and desperate it scared her.

“Hey, I think we should have a look at your leg, y/n.” Kara said softly, not wanting to break up the mother-daughter moment; but being the only one who got a good look at your thigh, she knew the depth of the wounds.

Alex tried to ease you off her, coaxing you until you eventually let go. She didn’t realise the damage you’d done. Not only the new, deep cuts; but the hundreds of scars covering your skin. She felt like she’d failed.

“Baby, I think you need stitches for a couple of these.” Alex said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I’m not getting stitches. It’s fine, Mom.” Kara interjected,

“They’re pretty bad sweetheart.”

You shook your head. “I’m not going to a hospital. You can’t make me.”

Kara looked at Alex, trying to see if they were on the same page.

“We could call Lena, then her and I can do it.” Your mom says, nodding to Kara who pulls out her phone.

Kara lifted you onto the bathroom counter. There were some perks to having two people trained in some sort of medicine in your chosen family, you guessed. They could perform small things like this. But sometimes, like today, it just didn’t make things any easier. Your Aunt Kara tried to talk to you, keeping your eyes on her as her sister and girlfriend cleaned your wounds and stitched them up. You had tears of pain dripping down your face, but your bared it. Just.

“We’re done, y/n. You did so well darling.” You blushed slightly at Lena’s praise. Reaching for your mom, she had no hesitation in pulling you into her arms, albeit struggling a little.

There was a knock at the door, and given you wouldn’t let your mom go, Kara went and answered it.

It was Kelly, who had brought over homemade soup, bread and some ice-cream.

With you still attached to her hip, Alex kissed her girlfriend and whispered a small thank-you. Kelly smiled knowingly and rubbed your shoulder.

The four older women would do anything to make sure the youngest of their family was okay, and seeing you so obviously not, was painful.

“Should we eat something bub?” Alex asked gently, you shook your head. “Kelly brought your favourites.” You shook your head again,

“Don’t wanna eat.” Alex sighed. You’d truly slipped so far backwards.

She tried to put you down on the couch, eventually compromising so you were sitting on her lap. It was a long hour of persuading and encouragement from all four women, but you ended up eating something.

Kara tried to lighten the mood, talking about anything and everything to keep your mind off the food. It worked for the most part, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about how utterly fat you were. You shouldn’t need to eat.

It felt like you were just a lifeless sack, being passed from one person to another; your brain having difficulty processing what was going on until it was happening. Your mom placed you into a full tub, scrubbing your dirty hair and body. There was faint commotion somewhere else in the apartment, but you couldn’t focus long enough to figure out what it was.

Kara and Lena worked on changing your bed, giving you fresh sheets and blankets. Kelly called a couple contacts she had that were good at working with adolescents. It would be hard to bring up the fact that you have to go back to therapy; you weren’t too fond of it. But Kelly was happy to help make it as comfortable as it can be, even looking for someone who was in the same building as her so she could be there if need be.

Lena offered to braid your hair while your mom, aunt Kara and Kelly talked outside. You welcomed the attention and began to drop off as nimble fingers threaded through your freshly washed hair, despite it only being the afternoon.

“You can go to sleep darling, it’s okay.” Lena said gently as she finished the second braid. You surprised her by turning into her and nuzzling her neck; desperate for the comfort wherever you could find it after isolating yourself for so long.

Alex walked in, telling Lena that both Kara and Kelly had to go back to work, at least for an hour or two.

“I’m happy to stay if you both need someone here?” Lena replies, smoothing your hair as you get nearer to sleep.

“Thank you, Lena. But we’ll be alright; plus, I’m pretty sure the other two are coming back tonight, if you want to come too. They’re worried about her.” Lena nods,

“I am too.” Alex realises how much you mean to all four of them. This little girl, who was maybe not so little, had such a huge part of their hearts – hearts that now ached alongside yours. Though, hopefully, they would be hearts to help heal yours, too.

#alex danvers x daughter #alex danvers #alex danvers daughter #alexdanvers #alex danvers x reader #alexdanvers x daughter!reader #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #karadanvers #lena luthor x kara danvers #karadanvers x reader #lena luthor #lenaluthor #lenaluthor x reader #lena luthor x reader #kelly olsen x reader #kelly olsen #kellyolsen #alex danvers x kelly olsen #supercxrpschild

[emcon-imagines]

Finally Okay, Pt. 3

part 1, part 2

gif

characters: Wanda Maximoff x reader words: 2194 summary: reader and Wanda are close friends, one joining the Avengers and one going rogue after Sokovia. But after one terrible night, Wanda is forced to face the reality of your mission for revenge. a/n: ahhh fingers crossed please don’t let this flop lmao I worked real hard on this part and you can catch up if you haven’t read parts 1 + 2 yet!!! but anyways surprise and merry christmas!!!!! it’s like a little additional gift to you guys and the conclusion to this trilogy. tagging: @moonlit-imagines​ and @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​, who both expressed interest in a part 3!

You sat with Wanda for a long time in containment, saying nothing, but her familiar presence calming you down enough that your stomach started to churn less and less, and the shaky, panicky feel began to dissipate into exhaustion.

“You still with me?” Wanda murmured as you laid into her, head resting against her shoulder. She squeezed your hand again, trying to get a read on where your mind was. “You seem better.”

You lifted your head up as the door opened, simultaneous with the mechanical beeping of it unlocking. Wanda seemed to sense you tense and she didn’t let go of your hand, even as you clenched hers harder.

“Y/N?” one of the SHIELD agents in the doorway asked. “We’re going to have you stop by the lab to get checked out one more time, and then someplace more permanent for you to sleep tonight.”

You looked at Wanda, uncertainty etched across your face, as you mouthed the word “lab?” with the fear unmistakable in your eyes.

“They’re gentle,” Wanda said. “They’re not going to hurt you. Probably just make sure...” she nodded at the bandage on your stomach. “Well, you really tore yourself up there,” she said, almost ruefully.

You considered her words and finally nodded, sliding off the cot and wincing at the muted stab in your side, still hugging the shawl over your shoulders, as if it could offer some sort of protection from the unknown. When you got to the door, the SHIELD agent waved over to Wanda, who had gotten up as well, but was still standing on the other side of the room.

“Coulson asked if you could stay with y/n,” the agent said. “It’s better than...” he trailed off, glancing down at you and then back at Wanda, who was glaring at him.

“Sedating them again?” Wanda asked. She stepped over. “That’s what HYDRA used to do. You scared them, working on them while they were asleep.”

“That wasn’t my call,” the agent said, quietly. “But... I’ll let Coulson know.”

“It won’t happen again,” Wanda said, and you weren’t sure if she was talking to you or the agent.

The journey to the lab was quick, though you couldn’t ignore the stares from other agents, and the way many of them stopped walking completely to let the five of you, the main agent accompanied by two others, pass. You tried to look braver than you felt, standing up straight, putting up the same mask of anger that had helped you survive for so many years with HYDRA, your eyes dark and your eyebrows furrowed, mouth in a hard slash.

It was clear that Wanda wasn’t comfortable around the agents either, perhaps she would have preferred Natasha or Clint be the liaison instead, but if she did feel that way, she didn’t say anything about it. She’s here, isn’t she? Not her hero friends. Wanda came.

There were only two people in the lab when you arrived, but it seemed busy enough for ten times that amount of people. Not like any of the labs you had seen before. It was well-kept, though lived-in, a mug of tea here, a sweatshirt tossed over a chair there. Work covered the lab benches; you could only begin to guess what SHIELD was working on.

“Hi,” the new woman said, and gestured to a medical station set up behind a glass partition. “You can sit right over there, I’m just finishing something up first.” The others agents stopped at the door, not going any further, and you stepped into the lab cautiously, as if breathing could break something.

“Fitz, where did you put my notes when you moved them?” the woman asked. “Was two tables not enough space?”

“I put them over there,” Fitz said, pointing to where you had been directed to sit.

“Oh.”

You said down on the edge of the cot just as the woman, who you realized must have fixed you up earlier, joined you, finding her notes. “Sorry about that,” she said. “We’re all over the place today, Fitz is trying to build a... well... never mind, that’s a whole other thing.” She pulled a tool off a shelf, something that looked like a gun and you flinched. “Mind if I take your temperature again?” she asked. “I want to see if it’s gone down at all.”

You relaxed and nodded, picking at the paper unrolled on the cot underneath you. She held the thermometer up to your head and read it when it beeped.

“Hmm. You’re still a bit warm. How are you feeling?”

“Y/N runs warm,” Wanda interrupted, and you looked over to see her leaning against one of the lab benches, her arms crossed. “Something to do with their powers. It’s why they’re always cold, too.”

“So, you radiate it all out?” Simmons asked. “And so it’s like you leave none for yourself?” She smiled a little as she put the thermometer away and scribbled a note down. “That’s neat.” She glanced back at you. “I mean, it’s just interesting is all.”

“Thanks.”

Simmons raised an eyebrow at Wanda, they talk?, before picking up her notes and writing something else down. “When was the last time you had a doctor’s appointment?” she asked. “I mean, a real one.”

“Um...” you glanced down at your feet. “Never?” You had managed to avoid doctor’s all these years, even the time you had the flu, or the time you nearly cut your own finger off trying to cook. Glancing at the nasty scar on your thumb, you began to think that maybe that was a mistake. From the other side of the room, you heard Wanda’s exasperated sigh.

“Right, okay,” Simmons said. “Well, I’m going to try to make this as painless as possible, as long as... well... you’re going to have to promise to help me out here. Have you eaten yet? I can send Fitz to the cafeteria to get you something to eat while we talk. What do you like?”

“I’m a bit occupied at the moment,” Fitz said from the other side of the lab, earning a hard look from Simmons, under which he finally relented. “Sorry, what do they like?”

Simmons kept her promise, which surprised you, and you kept yours, which maybe surprised you even more. She checked on your wounds and changed your bandages, tried to find out if anything else hurt that she had missed when you arrived, and only gave you one shot-- a flu shot-- of all things. And you finally ate, picking at the layers of the sandwich Fitz brought, eating one ingredient at a time, swatting Wanda’s hand away when she tried to steal one of the apple slices Fitz brought as well.

“You’re not going to share?” she asked, nudging you and giggling.

“No.”

“Brat,” she said, but she was still smiling. “After all this, you won’t even share one?” You saw red magic light up around her fingers and you clutched the bag of cut apples closer to you, knowing what she would try. “What if I--”

“Nope.”

Simmons’ exam ended shortly after that, and the SHIELD agents returned to escort you to your next destination, which the scientists had referred to holding. It was a stark white room, the walls made up of the same material your original containment cell had been made of, but this room was warmly lit, with a real bed, couches, a desk, and even a television screen. There were clean clothes laid out on the bed, grey sweatpants, socks, and a grey SHIELD sweatshirt, heavier than you expected. Warmer. There was a bathroom, too, already stocked with tiny soaps and shampoos, and you finally got to scrub the blood and soot off of yourself, turning the water as hot as possible and watching the grit run down the drain.

“Better?” Wanda asked, when you got out of the shower, examining the sweatshirt you had changed into. “You look better.”

You nodded, flopping onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling, just as the door opened again, and Wanda stood up from the couch to see who was there. “Hey, how are you?” Phil Coulson asked, stepping through the doorway, tablet in hand. You looked at Wanda, who gestured back to Coulson.

“He asked you, not me.”

“Tired,” you said. “Um... but all right.”

“I’ll take that as a good thing,” Phil said sitting down on the couch. He turned to Wanda. “Natasha dropped some things off for you if you want to grab them and clean up as well.”

You realized that Wanda still had blood, your blood, under her fingernails, and that she had been there the entire time you had. Did she not even leave this place once? When Wanda did step out, you sat on the edge of the bed, eying Coulson, still trying to figure him out. Is this someone I can trust?

“This won’t be too long,” he said. “I’m going to let you rest. I just wanted to talk with you a little more. Is that all right?” When you didn’t respond, he went ahead, glancing down at something on the tablet. “So, Simmons mentioned something in her notes here about your temperature readings. I’m assuming that has something to do with your abilities? Can you walk me though that?”

You paused, staring at your hands. “Um. They said I run hot. I heat things up with my hands... usually.... but sometimes without even touching them.”

“Is that how the fire started?” he asked softly, and you nodded.

“I didn’t want that to happen,” you said. “No one was supposed to be there.”

“I know you didn’t,” Coulson said, and you blinked, surprised. “Powers can be unpredictable. Scary, if you’re new to them, or if you were never trained.”

“I was trained to burn things,” you said. You remembered the trials, trial after trial, leaving you colder and weaker each time, unable to stop shivering, curled up against the glass wall of your cell, where a heat from the lab had warmed the glass enough for you to sleep.

“Wanda told me,” Coulson said. “I’m sorry for what you went through there.” He took another read through of his notes. “We’re going to bring someone else in to do a psych eval tomorrow morning. He’s one of the best, even helped our own. I think you’ll benefit from talking to him. And we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

You nodded once, and Coulson stood back up, adjusting his suit as he looked around the room. “Get some rest for tonight. Simmons might be by a few times to check on you, and if you need anything in the meantime--” he pointed at a button under the screen “--call button is right there.” Just as he prepared to leave, the door unlocked and opened again, Wanda stepping back in, having cleaned up and changed herself, dropping a duffle bag by the door. She and Coulson nodded at each other as he left, the lights in the room dimming in his wake, something more suitable for sleeping.

You leaned back on the bed, sinking into the pillows, though the constant undercurrent of anxiety prevented you from relaxing completely. “Can you stay?” you mumbled, not daring to ask the question any louder, afraid of the answer. “Just until I fall asleep.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up, too,” Wanda said, crossing the room and sitting down on the other side of the bed. “Okay?” You had pulled her shawl over yourself again and she reached over to tuck it tighter around you, you pulling away for a moment.

Oh.

It was love. All of it, all around you, you realized, was love. Something you had been certain you didn’t deserve, especially in places when there was so little to go around, acts of kindness existing only in mercy. 

Wanda paused, waiting for you, as your heart beat a little faster. It was too much, sometimes, overwhelming to think about, these people with so much love to give, relentless until you were ready to accept that perhaps you deserved some peace after all. Not despite your past, but because of it.

Finally, you laid back down on the bed, leaning into her, tucking yourself in close to her warmth, sighing as a burden was lifted off of you. “There you are,” Wanda said, her hand rubbing your back as she pulled you in closer, and this time, you didn’t feel like you had to escape. It was okay. You were okay.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shutting your eyes, already drifting off.

Wanda planted a kiss on your forehead and you smiled in response, the first smile she had seen in a long time from you. It was safe to sleep here. There was enough warmth to go around. Your head rested in the crook between her arm and her chest as she laid back as well, her hoping maybe you finally would sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.

“I’ll be right here in the morning,” she repeated again, the last thing you heard before you finally rested, finally okay at last.

#writing challenge #mcu #marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff one shot #scarlet witch one shot #marvel one shot #mcu one shot #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel reader insert #mcu reader insert #phil coulson #agents of shield #aos #agents of shield imagine #aos imagine #jemma simmons #leo fitz #phil coulson x reader #jemma simmons x reader #leo fitz x reader

[thegreatestofheck]

breathe again |Derek Morgan|

word count - 5850 warnings - mentions of blood, kidnapping, physical assault, panic attacks, death, ptsd, and it’s unedited pairings - derek morgan x fem!reader (3rd persion)  synopsis - he saved her life and now she has to deal with the aftermath. he’s there to help her every step of the way.  a/n - so i’ve been MIA. college was kicking my booty hind, I was lacking any and all inspiration, and i’ve just been mentally not well. This week was kinda horrible in that my abuser died on sunday, my birthday was on tuesday (not my favorite day of the year), and I spent 16 hours in the car with my family so I am mentally and emotionally exhausted. this fic is mostly for me, just a healing fic revolving around one my my favorite men. if no one reads it, that’s gucci. be on the look out for a reid one too because your girl is sad. thank you all for being so patient with me. and i’m so sorry to everyone i’ve disappointed while i’ve been away. hopefully i’ll have some routledge!readers out soon. 

______

A quiet whimper came from her mouth, but her eyes remained shut. 

When Agent Spencer Reid opened the door, his gun out and cocked, he shouldn’t have been so shocked as he was. He had seen the other girls, how they had been cut up before they were killed, how there wasn’t a place on their body that hadn’t been slashed. But something about seeing the woman strapped to the table, bleeding from almost every inch of her body, made a shiver go up his spine.

At the sound of the door opening, her weary eyes opened. She thought it was him, but she was surprised to see the agent standing there all the same. For a few seconds, she thought she was imagining it. She had been seeing people for days, but she could always blink them away. When she closed her eyes and opened them again, he was still standing there. Maybe the blood loss was finally getting to her. 

She closed her eyes again and turned her head to the side, refusing to get her hopes up again. He wasn’t real, he wasn’t there. 

She was going to die. 

Spencer Reid shook away the shock that held him in place. Stepping into the room, he holstered his gun and walked toward the woman. 

“Morgan,” he said into his walkie talkie. “Morgan, I found her. Back room.” 

“Good job, kid.” 

At the sound of his voice, the woman opened her eyes up again, blinking slowly. He reached her, immediately fiddling with the straps that kept her tied to the bed. 

“Are you real?” She asked, her voice broken and quiet. 

“My name is Spencer Reid,” he said. His voice was kindly and warm, but worried. “I’m going to get you out of here.” 

She nodded her head slowly. She let out a gasp of relief when the first of the straps released her. Spencer ran around to the other side and started to work on the other strap. As soon as her other wrist was freed, she brought both hands up to her chest. Wearing nothing but her undergarments was one thing in front of a deranged serial killer. It was another thing completely in front of a Federal Agent. 

Spencer started to work on the straps on her ankles, but before he could unlatch her, the man who had taken her appeared behind him and smacked him across the head with a pipe. 

The woman felt fear run through her veins, not even able to cry out as the agent crumpled to the side. Now the man stood above her, seething like a rabid dog. 

“You are never getting out of here,” he said. 

He plucked a knife up off of the table beside her. The woman refused to close her eyes. If he was going to kill her, he was going to be haunted by her eyes for the rest of his damned life. He lifted the knife into the air and the woman didn’t flinch. Before he could bring down the knife to kill her, someone ran into him from the side, knocking him off of his feet. 

The woman couldn’t see who it was who tackled him, but at the moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of the straps. Her hands were shaking, but she did what she could. She could hear the two men fighting, things breaking, grunts of pain. All she could do was get herself unstrapped. 

Once both of her ankles were free, the woman rolled off of the table, landing painfully on the ground. The cuts across her body pulled, blood running down her skin. She crawled over to Agent Reid, who was out cold on the ground. Clutching a pulsing arm to her chest, the woman grabbed hold of Reid’s arm and tried to pull him out of the way of the fight. She lay his head in her lap, placing her blood hands on the sides of his face. 

“Wake up,” she whispered. “Please don’t be dead.” 

The agent let out a quiet groan, letting her know that he was at least alive. Her kidnapper had managed to pin the other agent to the ground, picking up the knife from the ground. 

“No,” the woman breathed. 

She slid herself out from underneath Spencer, wincing against the pain of her stretching cuts. She plucked up the pipe of the ground and swung at his head with every ounce of strength that she had in her body. She heard the crack of his skull and he fell to the side. The agent on the ground breathed heavily, staring up at her. There was a cut on his cheek, but he didn’t seem to care much about it. 

The woman let the pipe fall from her hand, all the strength that adrenaline had given her fading. Her knees gave out underneath her and she started to fall. Luckily, the agent was fast. He sat up and caught her before she hit the ground. Her body began to shake, maybe from the pain, maybe from the cold, maybe from the weakness in her limbs. 

“You’re okay,” he said. “It’s over.” 

“It’s over?” 

“Yeah. You’re safe.” She noted how kind his smile was. “What’s your name?” 

“Y/N.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Derek Morgan and I’m going to keep you safe.” 

Y/N nodded her head as her eyes began to flutter shut. She could hear him call out quietly for Spencer and that was it before she was consumed by unconsciousness. 

****

Y/N sat in her apartment, consumed by the darkness around her. Her hands shook as she wiped away tears that fell from her eyes. It was just one of those days when all she could remember was the face of the man who had carved into her like she was a slab of meat, when she looked at her body, all she could see was the puckered scars that covered her skin. These were the days when she would pick up her phone and call Morgan, though she tried to avoid it. He had given her his number after she left the hospital for a reason, but she knew that his job was taxing, that she couldn’t just pour all of her problems onto him. 

But tonight she just needed to hear his voice, just to have him remind her that she’s okay, that she’s safe and alive and still human. 

She picked up her phone, searching through her contacts through blurry eyes. A few tears dropped from her eyelashes as she held the phone to her ear. It rang only twice before she hung up and threw her phone to the other side of the couch. She was a burden to him, she just knew it. And therapy wasn’t helping, it just made her feel like a helpless victim who was forever going to be stuck where she was. 

She curled her legs up to her chest, tucking her face between her knees. She tried to stop the sobs from shaking through her body, but the more she tried to stop them from coming, the faster and harder they came. 

Her phone started buzzing, making her lift up her head. Y/N wiped away a few tears, crawling across the couch toward her phone. She picked it up, sniffling. Morgan was calling her back. She let out a sigh before pressing the green answer button and putting the phone to her ear. 

“Hi,” she said, clutching a pillow to her chest. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

“Hi.” 

“How are you doing?” He asked, knowing full well that the answer would be ‘not good’. 

“I’m doing fine,” she lied, gnawing on her fingernail. 

“Y/N, talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to bother you,” she said, her voice going quiet. “You’ve got all your own things to deal with and I-” 

“The team and I are going out to eat. Come with us.” 

“Did you just come back from a case?” She asked. 

This was why she didn’t want to call. He had so much on his plate, who was she to add all of her problems too. 

“We did and now we’re going to celebrate. But I want you to come out with us.” 

“Derek, I….I can’t. It’s time with your friends.” 

“I’ll pick you up in thirty. It’ll be good for you and I promise you, you won’t be bothering anybody. They all want to know how you’re doing anyway.” 

Y/N breathed in deeply through her nose before nodding, even though he couldn’t see. 

“I’ll be ready.” 

“Good. And turn your lights on. The dark will just make you more sad.” 

She smiled. For as little as the two of them spoke since he and Reid saved her life, he seemed to know her better than anyone she had ever known. 

“Will do.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

“See you.” 

She hung up, setting her phone face down on the couch. She stayed where she was for a few moments, giving herself time to breathe. Once her tears had dried, Y/N pushed herself off the couch and made for her room. 

****

“How was your case?” Y/N asked as she and Morgan walked down the street toward the pub. 

“It went better than most,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets to protect them against the cold wind. “Saved a few lives.” 

“That’s good.” She smiled down at her feet.

“How are you doing?” 

She breathed out heavily, her frosty breath billowing out in front of her. 

“I’m good.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously! Today was good. I started teaching the kids their choreography for the spring show and it seems like they like it.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

There was a moment of silence as Morgan waited for her to finish. 

“But,” she carried on, like she knew he wanted her to. “I went on a date earlier today. It didn’t go well. You know how it is.” 

“I know.” He was quiet again for a few moments. “Tell me about your class. How are the kids?” 

“We don’t have to talk about me the whole time,” she told him, her cheeks burning ever so slightly. 

“I want to. Makes me feel better.” 

Y/N smiled and tried to hide her blush in her scarf. But she started talking anyway. Morgan listened, as he always did. He asked a few questions here and there to keep her talking and laughed when she said something funny. As she walked beside him, Y/N realized that maybe having her talk about her normal day wasn’t really to help her, but because it helped him. 

When they made it to the pub, she slowed to a stop. Morgan didn’t realize she stopped for a few paces, but once he noticed her absence, he turned around to look at her. She was looking up at the name of the pub, the lights reflecting in her eyes. He walked back toward her and put a gentle hand against her elbow. 

“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “They’ll love you.” 

She tore her gaze away from the sign and met his dark eyes, feeling her heart pound within her chest. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” 

She smiled again, feeling a burst of confidence. She nodded her head and took a step toward the front door. Morgan smiled as he followed in after her. It wasn’t that hard to find Morgan’s team, sitting around a table together and laughing. Fear struck at her again. She hadn’t been out much in the months since she had come back from the trial. She didn’t really hang with very many people before she’d been taken anyway. 

She didn’t have much of a chance to hesitate before Penelope Garcia, the computer whiz who had been the first one to make her laugh after she’d been saved. 

“Y/N!” she cried, lifting her glass of wine into the air. 

The others promptly turned around, calling out in each their own way. 

“Hi,” she said to them as she walked over, Morgan right behind her. 

She could feel one of his arms brush against her shoulder and it gave her enough strength to smile. 

“How are you?” Emily asked as Y/N slid into a chair next to her. 

“Good!” she replied, feeling her grin become something more real. “It’s been a long few weeks, but things are going well.” 

“Your apartment treating you nicely?” Rossi took a sip of red wine from his glass. 

“I love it,” she told him. “I don’t think I could ever thank you enough for helping me pay for it.” 

There was a glint in Rossi’s eye that told her she never had to say thank you again. Morgan slid into the seat next to her, draping his arm over her chair. Him being so close gave her a little bit of strength. 

The night carried on with drinks and food and laughter. Even Aaron Hotchner, who had intimidated Y/N all the way through her trial, was smiling along with the rest of them. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to look at Spencer, for whatever reason. Every time she saw him, all she could see was the bloody hand prints she left on his face that stained his skin for days. Emily and Penelope and JJ made Y/N feel like she had been friends with them for as long as they had been friends with each other. 

Things were going well until she made direct eye contact with Spencer. Her heart jumped up into her throat and she felt suddenly like she couldn’t breathe. She mumbled something about going to the bathroom before shimmying past Morgan and making a break for the restroom. 

She burst into the bathroom already breathing heavily, tears stinging in her eyes. She closed them and saw the blood all over again, felt the tearing of her skin, the sting of the blade. Bile rose in her throat and she gagged, slapping a hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting in the sink. Her head swam and her nose stung and her knees felt weak. 

There was a knock at the bathroom door and Y/N looked up, eyes still swimming with tears. She expected it to be one of the girls walking in to check on her, but when she opened her door, she found herself face to face with Spencer Reid. 

“Oh, hey, Spencer,” she said, furiously wiping away the tears with the back of her long sleeve. 

“Y/N,” he replied. “Morgan told me to find you.” 

“Did he?” She asked, her jaw clenched. 

“You wouldn’t look at me and when you did, you ran away. I may not understand a lot of social cues, but I think that means I did something wrong.” 

She shook her head quickly, still not able to meet his eyes. 

“No, you didn’t do anything. It’s just me.” Spencer was silent, as if waiting for her to elaborate. With a heavy sigh, she finally looked up at his face. “It’s my fault you got that concussion, Spencer. He wouldn’t have targeted you if you hadn’t been trying to save me. And I look at you and I see my blood on your face and it just….”

“Post traumatic stress is common in victims of attempted murder, especially in a case so bad as yours,” he said. “Hallucinations, nightmares, trouble breathing, all of that is common signs of PTSD so what you’re experiencing isn’t just you.” 

Y/N let her eyes flutter shut as she clamped down another vicious round of nausea. 

“But that’s not helpful,” Spencer said after clearing his throat. “It’s not your fault, what happened to me or what happened to you.” 

“It just feels like every second that I’m still affected by what he did, he wins. That it proves I’m not strong enough,” she told him.

She wasn’t really sure why she felt like she could talk to him so openly.

“Well, I can’t convince your brain of anything but I can tell you that I’ve saved a lot of people and most of them would have seen that open door and ran. But you stayed. You were bleeding out and you stayed to help me and Morgan. You probably saved both of our lives. That sounds like strength to me.” 

She blinked a few times, taken back by his words. She hadn’t even considered it. When she had gotten out of the restraints, she had seen the open door, but it had never occurred to her to run away. She scowled, glancing down at his feet. 

“I’ll leave you to your, uh, bathroom.” 

With that, Spencer left the doorway, walking back toward the others. Y/N let the bathroom door close, standing in front of the sink to stare at her reflection in the mirror. For so long, she had only seen the weakness in what she had done. She thought about how often she cried, how loud she screamed, how she had begged. She had convinced herself a strong person wouldn’t have done that. A strong person would have fought back, made his life as much hell as he made hers. A strong person wouldn’t have cried on the stand, wouldn’t have panic attacks every time something mildly inconvenient happened. 

But maybe she had been wrong. Maybe her strength had nothing to do with what she did in the moment, but in the surviving afterward. Every second that she breathed free air was a victory, every second that she lived longer than the man who had hurt her was a sign of strength and not weakness, no matter how ugly those seconds were.

Breathing in deeply, Y/N left her place at the sink and abandoned the bathroom to rejoin her friends. Morgan greeted her with a smile as she returned, but the others carried on their conversation as she took her seat. 

She spent the rest of the night smiling. She could look at Spencer and maybe she still saw the blood stains, but she could look past them and see the man underneath, the man who had saved her life. And Morgan kept his arm behind her back, just close enough that she knew that he was there. 

He walked her back to her apartment that night once everyone else had left. 

“You talk to Reid?” 

Y/N could tell that this was a question that Morgan had been waiting to ask since she came back from the bathroom. 

“I did,” she said, watching the sidewalk beneath her feet. 

“And?” 

“And it was good. He’s a good kid.” 

“Yeah, he is.” 

They were quiet again. He could tell by her change in demeanor alone that the short conversation with Spencer had done a lot for her. 

“You want to tell me about that date you went on?” He asked. 

She was startled by his question, not because it was beyond him to ask, but because she had forgotten about the date altogether. 

“Oh, um….” She scowled, trying to recall. “There was nothing wrong with the guy...I actually never met him. I got stuck getting dressed. We were going out to dinner and then we were going to see an opera, so I wanted to look nice, but I couldn’t find a single formal dress that would cover up all of my scars and I cancelled on him. I didn’t want him to see all the ugly, I guess.” 

Morgan let out a sigh, but she knew that it wasn’t a sound of disappointment. She glanced up at him and saw that he was thinking, his jaw tightening and relaxing. He didn’t say anything else as he walked her back to her apartment building, all the way up the stairs and to her front door. 

“Thank you for walking me back,” she said, unlocking her door and dropping the key into her pocket. 

“I think he would have loved to meet you,” Morgan said, looking down at his feet, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. 

“What?” 

“Your date tonight. I think he would have loved to meet you, no matter what you wore.” 

“Derek-” 

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.” 

She froze, her breath stopping in her throat. After spending hours every morning staring at her closet and the mirror, hoping to find something that would cover every single scar on her body, which was impossible. Morgan lifted a hand from his pocket and brushed his thumb over the scar that ran along her jaw, the one she was never able to cover. Y/N’s eyes closed at his touch, the heat from his hand spread warmth throughout her chilled body. He rested his hand against her cheek. 

They both knew that he should have taken his hand back, shoved it back into his pocket, and walked away. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down toward her. Her heart skipped a beat as his lips grazed against hers. She wanted to open her eyes, to make sure that she wasn’t imagining it. But even if the kiss was all in her mind, she didn’t want to know it. 

When he pulled back, Y/N kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, trying to hold on to the barest hint of warmth that he left her with. 

She opened her eyes finally only to see that he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes fixed on the ground again. She thought that he was ashamed of kissing her or maybe she didn’t live up to what he had thought. Still, she wanted to kiss him again, if he would let her. He slid his hand from her cheek and let it fall back to his side.

“Do you...want to come inside?” she asked. 

It wasn’t until he looked at her that she realized why he had refused to meet her gaze. It wasn’t shame or regret, but something deeper, something that he had been trying to fight since he first got to know her. 

She didn’t need to ask him again because his answer was already there in the deepness of his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her again, not as timid as before and with more force. He brought his hands up to her face again, his palms against her jaw. His momentum sent her backward into the door and a quiet gasp came from her. 

She searched for the doorknob with her hand, but her mind was elsewhere. With Morgan’s lips against hers, that was all she could think about. She finally got the doorknob twisted as Morgan pulled the scarf from around her neck. They collapsed into the dark apartment, one of his hands now on her waist and her fist curled around the collar of his shirt. 

With the door shut, Morgan pulled off his coat and discarded it onto the ground. Y/N followed suit. He reached out for her and took her by the waist as if any second apart from her was a second wasted, as if he couldn’t stand not touching her. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck just as desperately. 

Morgan hoisted her upward just as they reached the back wall and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He kept her pinned against the wall so even when he pulled away from the kiss she wouldn’t fall. 

“Is this okay?” He asked her. 

“God, yes,” she breathed, almost embarrassed by how relieved she sounded. 

A smile stretched across Morgan’s face as his hands found the bottom of her shirt, pulling it off over her head. Y/N’s first instinct was to cover herself with her arms, but Morgan pushed himself forward to kiss her again before she could even try. 

His kisses trailed away from her lips, his lips and teeth finding the skin of her jaw. He nipped his way down her neck, finding the soft of her skin that made her squirm. Any thought of all the scars that he could see was gone. All she could think about was his warm hands against her cold skin, his lips against her neck. She helped him remove his shirt, keeping her hands on his shoulders so she could admire the lines of his muscles, the smooth of his skin. 

Morgan moved back, away from the wall, one hand on the small of her back and the other on her thigh to keep her steady. She kept her lips locked with his, his tongue flicking across her bottom lip. Y/N pushed her bedroom door open and it was only a few more steps to her bed. Morgan laid her down gently against the soft blankets. 

She stared up at him, breathing heavily. His eyes were dark and full of desire and she imagined that hers looked no different. 

His hands rested on either side of her, but not touching her. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, his voice quiet. She nodded her head, sucking on the inside of her lower lip to keep herself quiet. “I need to hear you say it, baby.” 

“Yes, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Are you?” 

“I’m sure of nothing else.” 

He lifted a hand to hook a finger under her chin, tilting her head back so he could capture her lips again. Almost in sync, the two of them crawled further onto the bed until her head rested against her pillow. He unhooked the button of her pants and Y/N felt her heart rate spike through the roof. She was pretty sure she blacked out the entire time he was taking off her pants. By the time she found herself again, he was kneeling in front of her, just staring.

She had been this exposed in front of him only once before, but under completely different circumstances. He had been holding her in his lap, his voice the only thing that she could cling to as she fought to keep herself alive. Not only that, but she had been covered in blood. Once again, she felt the need to cover herself up again. This time though, Morgan grabbed her wrists and pinned them beside her head. 

“You are beautiful,” he said again, his eyes tracing her body before finding her gaze once again. “All of you.” 

Y/N fought the urge to cry. It wasn’t grief that brought tears to her eyes but the fact that the sincerity behind his words almost made her believe him. 

“Derek.”

She stretched upward to kiss him gently, a single tear sliding out of her eye. 

And once that moment of calm had passed, there wasn’t a second more. She needed no more reassurance and he needed no more affirmation that she knew what she wanted. There was no holding back for either of them. 

By the time that Y/N woke up the next morning, her body ached, but it was the kind of ache that felt good, that reminded her what she had done. Light flitted in through the window as she rolled onto her back, tangled up in her own bedsheets, a smile on her face. 

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the pleasant smell of cooking bacon. She shot upward, looking over to find that her bed was empty aside from herself. Sliding out of the bed, she pulled on the flannel that was by her bed and shuffled out to the main bulk of her apartment, where the living room and kitchen was. 

Her cheeks burned hot at the sight of half of her clothes discarded on the ground leading to her bedroom. She lifted a hand to cover her smile as the memory played through her mind. 

“Morning.” 

Y/N spun toward the kitchen, where Morgan was standing, fully clothed, by the stove. Y/N pulled at the bottom of her shirt, suddenly conscious of how short it was. 

“Hi,” she replied, walking toward him. “Smells good.” 

“I hope you don’t mind me raiding your cupboards,” he told her, opening an arm up for her. She settled in next to him, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. 

“I don’t mind,” she said before breathing in deeply again. “How did you sleep?” 

“For as little sleep as we did get?” Y/N’s cheeks burned again at the thought of it. “Slept good. How about you?” 

“The soundest I have in a long while.” 

Morgan’s phone ran from the counter top. Y/N took the spatula from his hand while he went toward his phone. 

“Agent Morgan,” he said. 

Y/N found herself smiling. She loved the way he said his own name, almost as much as she loved the way he said hers. 

“Got it. I’ll be there soon.” Morgan flipped his phone shut and looked up at Y/N, an apology already forming in his eyebrows. 

“Don’t worry about me,” she told him before he could even say anything. “It’s your job. I’ll be fine.” 

“Thank you for understanding.” 

He walked back toward her to press one final kiss against her forehead. 

“Take some bacon,” she told him, which he obliged to willingly. “Stay safe.” 

Morgan smiled back at her one last time, swiping his jacket off the ground, before disappearing through her front door. 

****

A week later, Y/N was sitting on her couch in the dark, not because she was sad, but because the TV was on and she liked it dark when she watched TV. With a bowl of popcorn in her lap, she watched the figures on the screen move about. She was watching a documentary about a newly found tomb in Egypt. She had never been interested in any kind of documentaries until all of her favorite shows began reminding her about everything she hated about the world. Maybe one day she would be able to watch them again, but for now, she was satisfied with learning. 

A knock came to her door. Y/N’s heart leaped. She hadn’t been expecting anyone and any time anything unexpected happened, she found herself scared all over again. She set her popcorn off to the side and shut off the TV, sitting quietly where she was as she waited from her breathing to find a steady rhythm again. 

Once she could no longer hear her heart pounding in her ears, Y/N stood from the couch, shuffling toward the front door. She was already in her pajamas, an old t-shirt and pair of shorts, so she was really hoping that it was not a delivery guy, even though she hadn’t ordered anything. 

She pulled the door open, allowing for one more deep breath. 

But it wasn’t a delivery guy and it wasn’t a stranger coming to take her again. It was just Derek Morgan. 

She almost smiled at the sight of him, but when she saw the look on his face, her eyebrows knit together instead. 

“Derek-” 

“Can I come in?” 

She nodded her head, pushing the door open even wider. 

“Of course.” 

She reached out and took his hand leading him into her apartment, shutting the door behind him. 

“It’s dark in here,” he said, looking up absently at the lights. 

“I was watching TV,” she assured him. “Come sit with me.” 

He followed her, almost dragging his feet as she led him to her room. She kept the lights off and he didn’t complain. She sat on the edge of the bed and so did he. Never once did she let go of his hand. 

“What happened?” she asked in a hushed tone. 

Almost as soon as she spoke, Morgan fell apart. His face crumpled and tears squeezed out of his eyes. He pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes as he tried to control his breathing. Y/N felt her own heart break inside her chest, pressing her forehead against the side of his head. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe here.” 

Morgan turned toward her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her toward him. She was startled by his sudden motion, but as soon as she recovered, she wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. 

“It’s okay,” she said again. “I’m going to keep you safe.” 

His words had played in her head all throughout her surgeries and trial. Every time she thought she was going to die, every time she wanted to give in, she heard his words, kind words for a stranger he had never met before.

She held him in the dark as he cried, grazing her nails across his back until his sobs began to quiet, until his breathing became steady again. He pulled away from her and she took his hand again. She closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss against her forehead. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” She asked him. 

Morgan sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“A lot of people died today,” he told her, his voice hoarse. “Even the guy who did it. All those lives lost and I….” 

He choked and she saw a tear glint in the barest light of the moon. She put her hand on his cheek and turned his face to look at her. 

“How many lives?” She asked him. 

“What?” 

“How many people died?” 

“Six.” 

“And how many people did you save?” 

Morgan’s eyebrows pinched together. His eyes left hers and she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone. 

“I...I don’t know,” he said finally. 

“I can’t imagine how it must feel thinking you have to carry the lives of all those people on your back. But I can tell you how much it means to those who survive that you do the job you do. You saved lives, Derek Morgan. You did good.” 

Morgan let out a shaky sigh. 

“And you don’t have to carry anything alone anymore,” she continued. “I’m here now and I will help you every step of the way, anyway you need me to.” 

Without saying another word, Morgan leaned forward and pressed a teary kiss to her lips. 

“Can you just hold me?” He asked, his forehead resting against hers. 

“Of course.” 

She lay back against her pillow and he leaned his head against her chest. He draped an arm over her stomach and tucked his hand underneath her back. Y/N let her fingers trail up and down the back of his neck. He shifted a few times before settling, letting the beating of her heart sing him to sleep like a lullaby. 

Even after he fell asleep, Y/N stayed awake, staring up at the ceiling. She was overwhelmed with a feeling that she couldn’t quite explain. It filled her chest, stretched out through her limbs, bounced around her mind. She tried to put a thought to the feeling, but she couldn’t. All she could do was let it consume her. 

And after months of pain and misery and fearing every shadow, Y/N finally felt like she could breathe again. 

#criminal minds #derek morgan #ssa derek morgan #criminal minds fic #derek morgan x reader #morgan x reader #reader insert #morgan x y/n

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 25~Part 1

I really feel like this game was suppose to be a yaoi but in the end they changed it!

Warning!! Kurama is too cute from here onwards!!!

Chapter 24

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--------Part 1-------

Kurama: “I suppose, when you know someone for a long time, you can sense him acting different.”

(Kurama...?)

Before long, the heat smoldering in the depths of Kurama’s eyes made my heart beat wildly.

His face slowly approaches------

Kurama: “Yoshino, what the hell did you do in front of that man?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Nothing special that I can think of (+4/+4)

2. I don’t remember.

3. You’re overthinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: “:....Nothing special that I can think of.”

Kurama: “You have a habit of playing with men without being aware of it. I don’t trust you.”

I look away, as Kurama stares at me suspiciously.

(Nn....)

Kurama: “Tch, whatever.”

After a small click of his tongue, Kurama turned again to Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san.

Kurama: “Anyway, let me give you my opinion on the war against the Court.”

(I can’t believe Kurama has an opinion on human warfare....)

Yoritomo: “I’m all ears.”

We all gulped and listened to Kurama’s opinion.

And an hour or so later, our meeting comes to an end....

Kagetoki: “Then the plan is that way. I’ll get on with the preparations.”

Yoritomo: “I’ll leave that to you. Yoshino. I know you’re tired but you’re going to have to work some more.”

Yoshino: “Yes. I’m ready. I know I attacked some of the Shogunate and the Rebels soldiers...I’m ready to make up for that.”

Kagetoki: “No one has died. It’s a waste of time to think of imaginary atonements.”

Yoritomo: “The soldiers who witnessed it knew that you were shouting at them not to come closer. They might have been frightened, but that will eventually go away when they see you in your usual self. We just have to wait patiently.”

(Kagetoki-san, Yoritomo-sama....)

Kurama: “It’s not your fault if you hurt someone. Rather, I’m amazed you were able to endure that horrible spell.”

Yoshino: “When I was at my limit, Kurama came to me. That’s why.”

Kurama: “.......”

Our gazes intertwined and I looked away, feeling embarrassed.

Kurama: “Hey, why are you looking away?”

Yoshino: “Mm...nothing....”

(Don’t ask me that...)

Kagetoki: “The air around them feels warm, right?”

Yoritomo: “Yeah. I was surprised when Kurama asked me to help him. So this was the reason.”

(Don’t tell me they already know!?)

Kurama: “What are you talking about?”

Yoritomo: “We are talking about your illicit love affair with our Yoshino.”

Kurama: “Oh that, there’s nothing illicit about it. It’s called ‘Mutual love’. I just discovered earlier today.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Wait!!!”

(We were supposed to be talking about something serious, but how did we end up talking this!?)

....And after telling our story, we each prepared for the final battle.

..................

Meanwhile--------

At the main camp of the Imperial Court, Yasuchika, sitting facing Ibuki and Akihito.

Yasuchika: “....This was not supposed to happen.”

Ibuki: “You can’t deny that it happened. Is there something wrong?”

Yasuchika: “You’ve seen it. It was perfect. It’s not something that can be solved by the willpower alone. To read the wavelengths of human is perfectly impossible even for Tamamo, who is skilled in the art of conjuring.”

Akihito: “Maybe Kurama or Yoshino underwent a big change.”

------Part 2-------

Akihito: “Maybe Kurama or Yoshino underwent a big change.”

Ibuki: “Big change, huh? Anyway, the only thing left to do would be a night raid.”

Ibuki shrugs uninterestingly.

Ibuki: “I don’t think he’s got much left in his tank. We should not wait for him to recover, we should fold him up. Also, the little fox is useless when she’s exhausted. The trouble is, they know what we’re going to do anyway.”

As if he had expected Ibuki’s answer, Akihito smiled softly.

Akihito: “Well then, we have to try harder, even though it’s a muddy way.”

Yasuchika: “......................”

................

(The time has finally come.)

Kurama: “I knew you’d be waiting for me anyway.”

Ibuki: “It’s a pleasure to live up to your expectations. Yoshino, nice to see you too.”

Yoshino: “......Ibuki.”

While the Shogunate intercepted the night raids of the Imperial Court’s soldiers.

Kurama and I were out of the party and were approaching the main camp of the Imperial Court.

(To be honest, I still shudder at the thought of fighting Ibuki. But...)

(We can’t lose for the sake of everyone who’s fighting right now!)

Ibuki: “You’re surprisingly a great woman for not falling in despair at my tricks, you know? Apparently, I lost our game.”

Yoshino: “That’s because I had Kurama help me.”

Ibuki: “I’m jealous of that.”

After muttering in a tone of voice that could be a joke or serious, Ibuki pulls out the greatsword on his back.

Ibuki: “Are we playing the same game again? Didn’t you two learn that your duo can’t beat me at all?”

Kurama: “You talk a lot. Why don’t you think it's because of that pride that Yoshino and I are standing here now?”

Ibuki: “I always enjoy playing seriously. No matter what the consequences.”

(It’s coming!)

Kurama’s fan splits the wind and Ibuki stabs the tip of his swords into the ground at the same time.

There was a crack in the ground and Kurama lifted me up softly and flew away.

Ibuki: “Thanks for the breeze.”

As Ibuki narrowly avoids the attack, Kurama stays in the air and creates countless blades of wind again.

Ibuki: “I knew it. You’re powerless.”

With those words, the blue light of thunderbolt approaches us-------

Kurama: “Yoshino.”

Yoshino: “Yes!”

(Lend me the power of the nine-tail fox.)

As soon as Kurama flapped his wings and deflected the light from its path, I held up my hand like he told me to.

Ibuki: “And? What are you doing there?”

(Nn....)

The golden dew rises at a slower rate than before.

(I’m worn out from using too many different powers.)

A second flash of light comes from Ibuki’s fingertips as he grips his sword.

Kurama struck it back with a spell-cast iron fan, but----

In no time at all, a third shot ripped through the pale night.

Ibuki: “You can’t start anything if keep preventing it.”

Tamamo: “That’s why I’m here.”

Ibuki: “.......!”

Without a sound, Tamamo appears behind Ibuki and thrusts a silver ornamental sword at his back.

(Yayy....?)

Tamamo: “Sand....”

A small shield of sand blocked the cut that was meant to pierce his back.

 Kurama: “Get away!”

--------Part 3--------

Kurama: “Get away!”

Ibuki appears again, just barely slashing Tamamo, who jumped backward on his hind legs.

Tamamo: “I used to be good at disguising signs and mirages.”

Ibuki: “It’s still hard to tell, but if you know it’s coming, you can predict it. With Yoshino’s help, you restored some of your power back. I thought this would be a perfect time destroy both Kurama and Yoshino.”

(I can’t believe you’ve read that much....)

Kurama: “Don’t hold back unless you want to fall prey to Ibuki’s attacks.”

Tamamo: “My my.”

Tamamo and Kurama simultaneously create a foxfire and a blade of wind to pin Ibuki down.

Ibuki: “Well well, it’s getting exciting, isn’t it?”

A breathless exchange of slashes and spells.

(Kurama’s guidance is all I can manage to take away from the spell.....)

Ibuki: “How long can the stalemate last?”

Tamamo: “The more Yoshino takes away your power, the more power I have. In that sense, the balance will be broken sooner or later, won’t it?”

Ibuki: “Can Yoshino and Kurama even hold it that long? I think not.”

Yoshitsune: “----I disagree with that.”

Ibuki: “!!”

A figure gallops in on a horse, kicks the back of the horse vigorously, and rushes at Ibuki with the force of his landing.

(Yoshitsune-sama!)

Before I knew it, the sword had been pulled out and was glittering in the moonlight, creating a wind blade.

Yoshitsune: “Kurama!”

Kurama: “Don’t rush. I don’t need to be told what to do.”

As he says this, Kurama is already waving his iron fan.

Ibuki: “....................”

Annoyed, Ibuki jumped back and avoided the wind blade from the both of them.

He was distracted by a foxfire which he had just avoided, and a transparent vortex tore Ibuki’s kimono thinly.

(Wow! We did it without any meetings!)

Kurama: “Faster than I expected, Yoshitsune.”

Yoshitsune: “That’s why I came quickly.”

Ibuki asks suspiciously keeping his distance.

Ibuki: “Have you been in touch with Yoshitsune tonight? The main body of the Rebel army must pass close to the Imperial Court from here. It must be difficult to even get messengers back and forth.”

Yoshitsune: “I didn’t get any message from Kurama asking for me. I’m only here on my own because I can’t move my troops behind the Court’s eyes.”

Yoshitsune-sama points his sword at Ibuki while talking with an expressionless face.

Ibuki: “So why did you come here?”

Yoshitsune: “I felt like Kurama was hurt.”

Kurama: “.................”

Yoshitsune takes one look at Kurama and see how badly he is hurt.

The amethyst eyes turned to Ibuki with a murderous glint.

Yoshitsune: “At last we finally meet, Shuten Doji. It seems you have taken care of my friend really well.”

Ibuki: “Friend?”

Tamamo: “You underestimated Kurama, Ibuki. Did you think he wouldn’t have friends? While you’ve been treating him like a baby, Kurama has been going his own way.”

(I was surprised when the name of Yoshitsune-sama came up in Kurama’s plan...)

Memories of our conversations in the main camp of the Shogunate were revived.

--------FLASHBACK---------

Kurama: “Even if I don’t call him, Yoshitsune will come to me. His soul is closer to that of a demon. He’ll surely be able to trace the familiar traces of my magic.”

Kagetoki: “What if he doesn’t?”

Kurama: “I’ll do the opposite.”

------FLASHBACK ENDS------

 (It happened exactly how Kurama told us.)

Without looking at Yoshitsune-sama, Kurama opens his mouth.

Kurama: “Do you know what I’m thinking now, Yoshitsune?”

Part 2

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen mc #ikemen genjiden kurama #main story translations #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome