Tsugoku Genya x AFAB Hashira Reader w/ hints of jealous Sanemi
Premise: Since Genya lacks the ability to use a breathing style, he isn’t able to officially become Gyomei’s Tsugoku. Gyomei looked to you for help, since you use your own breathing style and have mastered a very bizarre technique… the ability to transform into a demon for a short period of time.
Warning, the full version of this story will include: aged up Genya, aged up Sanemi, essentially everyone in the story is aged about 3+ years. Tension between Sanemi and the reader, tension between Genya and the reader, awkward/shy/virgin Genya. Other smut related things :)
“Shinazugawa has a little brother?” You’re peering upwards, head tilted nearly all the way back at the towering man before you. Sometimes you really forgot how intimidating Gyomei could be. “Yes, a little brother who is five years his junior.” You nodded, finding out information on the withdrawn and crude wind pillar was always intriguing to you. “So his little brother is 19, looking to become a hashira but he can’t master any breathing styles.” You fold your arms, mulling over the possibilities as to why Gyomei had summoned you. “Precisely. The boy has strength and talent but I am unable to take him in as my tsugoku for that very reason. Which is why I need help.”
“You want me to help you train him? Gyomei you’re the strongest… if you can’t do it I don’t think anyone can.” You watch the towering man shake his head. “You seem to forget your past, y/n.” Your lip parted at that, finally understanding why he had summoned you here. “Gyomei… you can’t be serious.” Your breathing style was your own creation, you had never thought of trying to teach someone else how to do it… nevermind a guy who couldn’t even master something basic like water breathing. “I am, young Shinazugawa has talent, if anyone can learn the breathing style you created, it’s him.” The guy must be good if he has the strongest pillar backing him.
“A-alright then, I’ll happily give it a shot. However, you owe me protection from Sanemi. He can’t stand me as it is, now you have me training his little brother to potentially be my tsugoku? He’ll burn me at the stake, corps rules be damned.” Gyomei chuckled softly, or as softly as a man with a voice that deep could. “I’ll be with you every time you train young Genya. Though the two have a very strained relationship, I can’t see Sanemi coming around to see how his brother is doing.” You sighed, shifting from foot to foot before finally agreeing. “Alright, it’s a deal.” Gyomei thanked you profusely, instructing you to meet him at his training grounds the following night.
“Well… I see the resemblance.” You crossed your arms, hand resting on your cheek as you looked him over. “I’m y/n by the way, Gyomei has told me a bit about you Genya.” The man said nothing, face turning bright red as Gyomei’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Genya, it’s impolite to ignore.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, Gyomei couldn’t see the look on Genya’s face to understand the man’s silence. “No need to be nervous around me, you’re in good hands with Gyomei and I.” You teased softly, watching his eyes shift from your face to the ground and back again. He was far different from his brother, despite their obvious resemblance.
“I’m sure Gyomei had told you, but today I’m going to be teaching you my breathing style and techniques. We both think you’ll be able to master the skill.” With the attention on his skills rather than himself, Genya seemed to focus again. “Do you really think I’ll be able to use this breathing style?” You smiled, setting your supplies down “Absolutely, Genya. You’re related to Sanemi, you’re just as crazy…” you paused, unsheathing your blade before continuing. “Trust me, you need to be crazy to use this technique.” You laughed a bit to yourself, quickly setting the blade back in its holder. “Gyomei, I can handle him for now.” Genya was turning red again at the use of the word “handle”. You’d have fun training him
Gyomei nodded, moving to sit on one of the many stone benches he had spread throughout his estate. “So, Genya, why don’t you tell me about yourself.” You dropped to a crouch, rummaging through your bag to make sure you had everything necessary. “Uh…well. I don’t have much I’m willing to uh…share.” He was tripping over his words, making your suspicions clear. Genya was shy around women, how cute. “That’s fine, don’t worry about it. We only just met, after all.” You stood with a container in your hand. “Let’s just jump right into it, shall we?” Genya nodded, eyeing the container in your hand suspiciously before refocusing his attention. “My breathing style is derived from water breathing. I’ve given it the name blood breathing. I think it fits well with the technique…”
You opened the container, pulling out a piece of flesh. “If I eat this piece of demon flesh, I am able to gain the demon’s abilities for a short period of time. Gyomei and I think that you will be able to master this ability, with my help of course. So…do you think you can handle it, Genya?” After a moment of hesitation, Genya nodded. “Yes…Whatever it takes, I’ll do whatever it takes to become a Hashira.”
The next day you continued on as if all was normal. You spoke with Isaac, smile wide on your face, but when he grabbed your hand to walk you to your locker, it seemed different. He kept looking down at you, watching you with something you had never seen against his eyes, and when you caught him staring, he would glance quickly away. He almost seemed constrained, and you couldn't understand why. You wanted to ask him about it, why there was sudden change in his confident demeanour, but you were afraid of the answer you might receive. So instead, you kept all conversation about Allison. About the plan.
-
Isaac couldn't comprehend his feelings. He'd tried his best to organize the mess that had appeared in his mind after the kiss the day before, but there were parts of him that wouldn't let it go. You talked about the plan, what the next step would be, but Isaac found himself resistant to go any further. Allison was still there, dancing in his mind, but she wasn't as important anymore.
"What if we forget about the plan?" Isaac blurted the words out, cutting you off mid-sentence. You had been rambling as you wrote notes for your English essay due next period, asking him how he wanted to go about getting the Argent girls attention once more, but Isaac couldn't focus.
"What?" You looked up from your notes, confusion consuming your features, and Isaac wondered if he'd said the right thing. Maybe he should have stayed quiet, let another day pass for him to gather his thoughts.
"I just thought maybe we could try a different approach" Isaac was leaning forward in his chair, arms folded on the table as you set down your pen.
"Why? The plan is working". Your essay notes were long forgotten now as you focused on the boy in front of you. Isaac could tell you were worried; he could sense it washing over you as you waited for his response.
"I know that but, maybe it's not such a good idea".
The small smile you held dropped at Isaac's words, and instantly Isaac wanted to take them back. He wanted you to smile again. You closed the book in front of you before looking back to Isaac, a lack of colour in your face.
"It's because of the kiss, isn't it?".
Isaac didn't know what to say to that. The kiss had most definitely changed things, if not for you, then for him. He was seeing things differently now, yet he still couldn't comprehend it.
"Look Isaac, you love Allison. I know that and I was just trying to help. We got her attention yesterday and now the plan is starting to work. I know kissing me wasn't something you wanted to do, but at least we're getting somewhere now". You took a deep breath, your heart beating heavily in your chest. You were scared. That made Isaac scared too.
As the shrill sound of the bell announced the end of lunch, you stood faster than Isaac had ever known you to. Usually, you would sit for a minute or two, asking him where he would be after his next class, if he wanted to meet, or perhaps if Isaac was lucky, you would tell him a joke that he would laugh at no matter how stupid the punchline. Today you couldn't wait to get away, Isaac hated that. Just as you'd gathered your books in your arms, ready to make your escape, Isaac stood, speaking just loud enough for you to hear.
"I didn't mind kissing you, you know".
-
Isaac didn't hear from you for the rest of the day after that. He felt sick to his stomach, as if the ocean itself were churning inside him. He thought about what he could do—if anything—to fix this. Isaac barely understood what he had done wrong in the first place, replaying the conversation in his mind, wishing he could change it all. Why couldn't he stay quiet, just sit there and listen to you? He loved listening to you.
You had been talking about Allison, trying to help him, but for some reason, every time you mentioned her name it felt like a shock to his body. Allison had been at the centre of his mind for so long, that perhaps he had lost sight of the more important things, and just when he'd begun to see them, he'd screwed up again.
Isaac thought of his father—now long gone but still lingering—with his disapproval in Isaac's mind. He thought about what he would say, the names he would call him, the names he would call you. Isaac couldn't bare it, but he could see it all so clearly. He could hear it all like song stuck in his head, a beat he could recognize but never place. He felt the pit of anger growing, towards himself, his father, towards his whole damned school and everyone he knew. He thought of Allison and how she had started all of this. Her beautiful hair, eyes, smile. Everything about her that he adored had caused a wreck in his mind. Isaac thought about you, how you ran away from him as the bell rang out, scared, and he didn't know why.
-
You didn't want to avoid Isaac. Running from him seemed wrong, but with every corner turned, you were afraid to see him there waiting. To say the least, you were embarrassed. Every second that passed left you shivering, the only thoughts consuming your mind being that of kissing Isaac and the aftermath of doing so.
In the moment, kissing him had felt like a dream, with sparks lighting up your body, you felt safe for the first time in so long as he'd pulled you close. But now, you were terrified of what that kiss had broken. Thinking back to that look In Isaac's eyes, you still couldn't decipher what it meant. The way he looked at you afterwards—how he would shift his eyes away when yours locked with his. And finally, your thoughts ran to the root of your embarrassment. To the root of your fear. "What if we forget about the plan?" "Maybe it's not such a good idea". Isaac's words made your stomach twist. You wouldn't be surprised if you threw up from the panic that consumed you right there. That kiss, one meant just for show, had put at risk your friendship with Isaac.
"I didn't mind kissing you, you know".
You hadn't thought much about the last thing he said. Your mind was so trapped in that gut-wrenching embarrassment that you hadn't had time to think about it. But out of everything it could mean, you just hoped it was a sign that Isaac didn't hate you.
-
As Isaac sat in class, he thought about every movie he'd ever watched. He thought about the plans the characters made, and what happened when they didn't follow them. From what he could recall, it was mostly bad things, and Isaac found himself wincing at his mistakes. He should have stuck to the plan. You intended to, and that had been made clear from the last time you spoke, your intentions upon helping him obvious based off your past questions and conversations. For some reason, Isaac had messed that up, letting the wild thoughts, the ones that roamed free in his head, dictate his words.
Isaac waited patiently for you to enter, student after student piling in until finally, he saw your face. After what seemed like a year of radio silence, he was happy to see you, and he watched as you shuffled to your seat in front of Lydia and Allison, not looking up to find him once. Stiles, who sat to the left of Isaac, sent a knowing look.
"Trouble in paradise?"
Isaac intended to ignore the boy, but his words remained there in the air surrounding, as Isaac got lost in his thoughts. As far as anyone else knew, you and Isaac were still an item. The plan was still working, and it hit Isaac then, the reason why you were distant. "I was just trying to help".
You sat across the room fiddling with your pencil, and Isaac understood that to fix this, he had to act like nothing was broken in the first place. In truth, nothing was broken. The plan was still in place as far as a stranger could understand, and as far as Isaac could tell nothing had gone explosively wrong. So, with the teacher yet to show, Isaac stood from his seat, making his way over to you.
You were still playing with the pencil in your hands when Isaac crouched next to you, folding his arms atop your desk for support.
"Can I borrow a pen?".
You looked at him confused, but Isaac could still sense the anxiety dripping from you, in almost suffocating amounts. He noticed the way your fingers lightly tapped your desk, something you did when nervous. There was no particular pattern to it, just rapid patting of your fingers against the wood of the table, or the paper of your books. You were trying to steady your breathing with a lack of success as you looked from him to the set of pens on the other side of your desk. He didn't really need a pen, only an excuse to come over and speak to you. Isaac figured you knew as much.
It took a moment before you passed him one, Isaac taking it gratefully. You smiled at him now, a smile that would seem genuine to anyone else, but not Isaac. He knew it wasn't real, not yet.
Clicking the pen, Isaac reached across the desk, taking your hand and turning it over so your palm was facing upwards. Instantly, you seemed to know where this was going, pressing your lips together as memories came back to you. Isaac drew a small smiley face on your palm, before looking back up, and watching you carefully. It was something you had done back when you first met, and as he handed you the pen, you turned his hand over and drew the same face upon his skin. A second passed as you admired your work before Isaac grasped your hand in his, interlocking his fingers with yours. You smiled. A real smile this time, the one Isaac loved.
-
The moment didn't last long before Coach Finstock entered the classroom, clapping loudly to gather the attention of his students. He took one glance at Isaac and frowned, blowing his whistle for no reason at all.
"Lahey! Get back to your seat, I don't need you going soft before the game".
Isaac turned to you, detangling your entwined hands. You were calmer now and smiling. "You still up for this?" Isaac didn't know if he should ask, afraid it would bring back those unpleasant feelings from before, but you nodded handing him the pen he had so politely asked for, "If you are".
"Lahey!" Coach growled, and Isaac turned to him with an annoyed smirk, the teacher sending him one right back before he moved to his seat, Stiles—with eyebrows raised, beside him.
"Nice going dude, how’d you get her to forgive you?"
At first Isaac didn't know how to respond to the question, leaning on his desk as he became instantly bored with the lesson. Isaac didn't receive forgiveness from you, he hadn't needed it. He just wanted you to feel okay again, and by the looks of it he had succeeded. Turning to Stiles, Isaac gave him the only answer he could think of, the honest truth.
"I made her smile".
-
Through the rest of class, you sat staring at the drawing on your palm, gently running a thumb over it upon occasion. You remembered the day you first met Isaac, sitting next to him in a seemingly never ending English class, where he'd been watching you doodle on your hand with different coloured pens.
You hadn't noticed him staring at first, but when you caught his gaze he nodded toward your hand, now covered in ink.
"Can I join you?".
Not knowing what to say, you simply nodded, passing him a pen. The top of your hand was almost black with little drawings and Isaac had to shuffle closer before turning your hand over. At first you thought he would write his number, like every cliché boy in school, but instead—he held your hand still, deep in concentration as he drew one small smiley face on the centre of your palm. You remembered letting out a quiet laugh as Isaac looked at you for approval.
"What do you think?"
"It's cute, have you ever considered art classes?".
Isaac had grinned then, passing the pen back to you.
"I'm self-taught, I don't think I need them".
You nodded in mock understanding, watching his smile grow wider. It was then that you reached for his hand, turning his palm up to face you, before drawing a near identical smiley face to the one on your hand. Isaac examined it for a moment, and you placed the pen down resting your head on your arms.
"Mine's better—obviously, but it's not bad".
You'd poked your tongue out at him then, and he sent you a smug grin in return, one that you would remember for the rest of your days.
-
After class Isaac sat with you at one of the outside tables. You told him you required fresh air after coach's long lecture, half of which you couldn't remember. In all honestly you hadn't been paying attention whatsoever, and by the looks of it neither had Isaac.
"Do you remember anything he said?"
You had to laugh at Isaac's question, shaking your head 'no' as you shuffled across your seat, so you were under the shade of a tree. Isaac had decided upon sitting on the table rather than the benches beside it, his feet rested on the seat instead. You tapped his knee which was propped up next to you "You have a lacrosse game tonight right?".
Isaac grinned, leaning forward with elbows on knees. "Yes, and as my fake girlfriend it is your duty to attend".
The word 'fake' still hurt to hear but Isaac told nothing but the truth. This was all a game designed to capture Allison Argent, and for now, you were okay with that.
"I'll be there Lahey, but you better win".
Isaac seemed offended that you would ever think of him as anything less than a winner "You know I will".
It was true, you had seen him on the field before, and you knew with the right motivation, he wouldn't lose. Allison seemed plenty enough an inspiration considering all the trouble you had endure over the past few weeks for the girl.
"Allison will be there, you better impress her" The words left your lips as soon as you thought of them, a smile still hanging off Isaac's lips as you looked up, though it seemed duller than before.
-
AN: The bland ending I am sorry
GENERAL TAGLIST: @sunny-reys @candywh0r3 @caplanreads
katsuki made a promise to himself at 3 in the morning, when you were sobbing on sero’s bathroom floor with a half-empty bottle of vicodin in your hand:
he was going to protect you.
because if he could fix you, he could fix himself. fuck his recurring nightmares about being kidnapped. fuck the panic attacks he’d have after seeing his old U.A. classmates.
and fuck that little voice in his head that whispered, this will only end when you die.
katsuki hadn’t known you well at the time. you were in the same calculus seminar; denki had staked a claim on your tits the first five minutes of class. another NPC. background noise that would shift nothing in his life.
then sero had invited your friends to that kickback because denki wanted to fuck you and he’d walked into the bathroom and seen you having that breakdown and the next thing he knew he was holding you.
bakugou katsuki- cruel sneers and furious roars and explosive hands- was holding you.
everything had fallen into place from there.
“if you ever feel like shit,” he’d muttered, “then call me. okay? don’t move, don’t talk, don’t even think about anything else.”
“your friends can go to hell,” he’d growled as you wept in his arms. nobara, maki, and mai had just tried to stage an intervention- you need to go to therapy, maki had pressed. we’re all worried about you!
“it was awful,” you’d whimpered. “i can’t help it, i just- it was just-,”
“they don’t fuckin’ get it. i know. stop hanging out with them. they’re just gonna make you feel worse.”
katsuki had poured, and poured, and poured everything into you.
he doesn’t know when exactly the line between love and hatred became blurred; when the sight of your pathetic doe eyes sent resentment flashing through his body.
but he knows exactly why.
—
“what the hell is this?” katsuki scoffs, fisting your Management homework so hard he’s crumpling the paper. sero, denki, and eijirou exchange knowing glances.
“what?” you ask in a small voice. “i thought my ideas were...,”
good.
“all you did was throw a bunch of bullshit buzzwords onto the paper. growth strategy? supply chain management?”
“does she even know what those mean?” sero snorts. you throw him an indignant glare, and he laughs, “kidding, kidding! don’t be so dramatic.”
you’re quiet, gaze downcast and hands twisting in your lap. you spent two hours reading academic journals last night. sketching out project ideas that you were sure would live up to katsuki’s standards.
you little braniac, maki used to tease as nobara gaped at your exam grades. i don’t know how you always figure shit out.
she’s just smart. plain and simple, mai snorted.
they were all lying to you. because katsuki always tears apart your ideas, points out the gaping holes that you should’ve realized days ago.
he’s the only one who’s completely honest with you. your grades, your friends, your old academic awards- they don’t mean shit.
“i’m getting a goddamn headache just reading this!” katsuki’s voice is growing louder, attracting the attention of the rest of your classmates. your body is burning uncontrollably with humiliation; “okay, we don’t have to use them,” you squeak, grasping his arm.
but he’s in a furious mood. you don’t know what set him off today; is he thinking about the party last saturday? did he miss a maneuver during training?
katsuki flings your hands away, glares down at you with suffocating flames.
“can you use your fuckin’ brain for once?” he shouts. “i’m tired of carryin’ you through school! how did you even get into this program?”
“we can just go with your idea,” you hastily say.
“tch. we always do.”
“alright, relax, man,” eijirou pipes up. “i think she had some good ideas-,”
“oh, so you’re takin’ her side now, shitty hair? hopin’ she’ll like you?”
the entire class is silent, goggling at the debacle going on at your table. your professor’s blustering something about calm down, bakugou and stop shouting; but all you can feel are eyes on your shrunken figure.
they all heard katsuki call you stupid. bakugou katsuki, the smartest person in your program and one of the most respected rookie heroes in the nation. you’re an embarrassment. they all know you’re a failure- this is why no one wants to get close to you.
and then you catch izuku sitting across the room.
he's the only one not staring at you, jaw clenched and gaze downcast as his friends gape behind him. but there's a pulsing intensity in his eyes- something intense and unreadable.
and even though izuku can clearly hear everything- he's not watching your humiliation.
you jerk up, grabbing your laptop and stuffing it into your bag. as you grab the rest of your things, hurrying for the door, you ignore katsuki’s, “where're you goin’?”
as you run back to your apartment, chest heaving with the beginnings of a breakdown-
you think izuku would be proud you didn't cry for katsuki.
—
katsuki’s trembling as he fumbles with your keys, unlocking your door with a sharp click!
he sees himself in you. the self-doubt, the crippling loneliness, the self-destructive behavior that leaves you ruined. it’s like he’s looking into a mirror that reflects all of his weaknesses.
and that is why he hates you.
but when the anger dissipates- when he’s unleashed his rage and you’ve broken from the heat- he remembers what you are to him.
your apartment is pitch-black, silent. if he didn’t have your location, he wouldn’t even know you were here.
then he hears it: soft weeping behind your bedroom door.
you’re curled up under your covers, body shaking with hiccups. moonlight streams through the window, illuminates your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. you must have been crying for hours.
katsuki’s heart is aching, twisting into knots within his chest. there’s a panicked sense of desperation starting to creep over him- he needs to make it better, he needs to fix what he broke, this is his fucking fault.
he’s never been a man of words. so he gently pushes back the covers, slides between your thighs.
you don’t acknowledge him at all. the dread in katsuki’s stomach intensifies; you only ignore him when you’re furious, when he’s hurt you beyond excuse. this has happened more and more frequently of late and there’s this awful, terrifying fear that you’ll leave. you’ll wake up and realize he’s a worthless man who doesn’t deserve to be loved.
he needs to pull you back to him.
you’re wearing katsuki’s favorite panties; the ones you bought when you dragged him to the mall, when he fucked you in the victoria’s secret dressing room with your legs around his waist and a hand clamped over your mouth. he lays a gentle kiss on your cunt.
you don’t respond. the soft sound of your sniffles echoes against the walls.
so katsuki kisses you again, gently tugs down your panties until you’re exposed to him. he drags his tongue up your slit, eyes fluttering shut as he savors your taste. he will never get tired of this. wants to live between your legs for the rest of his fucking life.
his lips smack against your pussy, spit dribbling over his lips. despite your refusal to acknowledge him you’re growing wet, arousal pooling on his tongue as he eats you out. katsuki’s soft blond hair tickles your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your cunt.
“shouldn’t have done that,” he rasps, pulling away. “shouldn’t have been so-,”
katsuki swallows down his shame and buries his face in your pussy again.
he sounds pathetic even to himself- shit, he isn’t making anything better, he’s just going to make you come all over his face, send ecstasy wracking through your body until you finally say his name.
so katsuki delves into your folds with an almost feral intensity, slurping and swallowing your sweet juices, moving his tongue through your gummy walls faster and faster. your face is buried in a pillow; katsuki has to hold your hips down, muscles flexing as he pushes you open wider.
“oh, sweetheart, i’d do- anythin’ for you- you know that, right?”
and then finally a strangled whimper of, “you’re always so mean,” falls from your lips.
“don’t mean it. swear. you’re my best-,” katsuki thick digits slide into your warmth, causing you to gasp with the stretch. “best fuckin’ friend.”
when you fall apart it’s messy, clear liquid squirting all over his face. breathy wails tear from your throat as you arch against the bed, body shaking uncontrollably. and then he gets what he was waiting for:
“katsuki,” you cry, arms weakly reaching out for him.
“i’ve got you,” he gruffly responds, pulling you into his warm embrace. his arms tightly wrap around your waist; you can’t help but melt into his grasp, back nestled against his broad chest.
you’re so delicate- you don’t deserve any of this, he was supposed to keep you together but instead he always shatters you.
“didn’t have a good morning,” katsuki whispers into the silence. “agency placements are comin’ up, and- i was stressed.”
how many more excuses until he runs out?
“i lost control. i won’t do it again.”
you stopped believing him months ago.
“i love you.”
you’re quiet.
“hey.” katsuki’s grip tightens. “i love you.”
he’s pleading. you’re scared.
“i love you, too,” you mumble.
—
later that night, when you’re dully staring into the darkness, your phone buzzes with a text.
unknown number: hi :) this is ochako!! want to join our group for Management??
—
there will be a part 3, let me know if you want to be tagged :) you must have your age in your bio!!
uhh.... as my roommate said.... katsuki's tryina be "Captain Save-a-Hoe." I can't with him lmfaoooooo
this situation kind of happened to me except without the romantic/sexual part LMFAO. literally destroyed my self esteem for years. i'm still best friends with the guy though so it's... complicated. LMFAO idk
if you want to join my general taglist, shoot me an ask or DM :)
warnings – language, mentions (not depictions) of abuse, angst and fluff
a/n – I'm SO late with this, but my life was turned upside down these past few months. Anyway, here's a new chapter.
English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.
Y/N – your name
(CHAPTER ONE HERE)
"Baby, angels like you can’t fly down hell with me"
Emma Russell knew that her grandson was a good boy. He always told her where he was going and when he came back. The only explanation for Arvin not being home for dinner, was the torrential rain that fell on the town.
Always very religious, Emma asked the Lord to protect Arvin and guide his way safely. Every day she prayed, but this time it was different. She was worried. Lenora tried to calm her grandmother with words of comfort, but that was not enough. The family matriarch would be fine when she was sure he was fine.
As if God could hear her prayers, Arvin stopped the car in front of the house. Through the window, Emma noticed the movement in the yard and ran to the door, waiting for her grandson. As soon as the boy put his feet on the threshold, she hugged him tight, asking where he was.
Inside the house, Earskell murmured: "I said he would be back. Your grandson is not a kid anymore."
Y/N watched the scene with a smile on her lips, imagining being received that way by her parents one day, but maybe that would never happen. The Henson's were better off without her.
Away from his grandmother's loving embrace, Arvin looked back, saying:
"See who I found."
Y/N approached where they were and was surprised when Emma smiled warmly, putting her in a hug. Usually Y/N showed up on weekends for a visit, but in the past six months she just disappeared. The only information Emma had on the girl was when Arvin saw her on the streets or when some nasty rumor has spread around the town. She was known as Knockemstiff's black sheep; a voluptuous sinner, but Emma knew they were wrong. Y/N was a good girl and the way she returned the hug – like this is all she needed – left the woman worried.
As soon as they left the cold night, and entered the house, Emma asked Lenora to grant the girl dry clothes, but the first thought that crossed Helen's daughters mind was that Y/N was the reason Arvin was late for dinner. Unlike them, she didn't believe in Y/N's innocence. She was always in trouble.
Without a better option, Lenora took the girl to her room, considering lending her the dress she liked least. And that's exactly what she did when she found the yellow dress at the bottom of the closet. To her surprise, Y/N didn't reject the dress, she just thanked her. The Henson daughter used to be a witty girl with a sharp tongue, but this time she looked hurt – not physically, since Lenora found no bruises, but her mind seemed to be trapped somewhere miles away.
Y/N didn't take more than five minutes in the shower. She tried to relax and forget what happened, but when her eyes closed, Teagardin appeared to haunt her. His touch on her skin was vivid and it made her stomach churn. She could have sworn he would show up at any moment to finish what he had started at the church.
On her way to Lenora's room, she found Emma in the hall. The woman held a tray with a plate of soup and smiled when she saw Y/N wearing the yellow dress.
"I figured you were hungry and I know that potato soup is your favorite... Or used to be." Emma smiled at her.
"Potato soup remains my favorite, but I don't want to bother you..."
"Don't mention that. C'mon, you're going to stay in Arvin's room. He's taking the couch tonight."
A little surprised, she shook her head, following the woman. Although small, Arvin's room was cozy and every single piece of the place reminded her of him. This brought a feeling of security to Y/N, but the idea of him spending the night on the couch and possibly waking up with body pain in the morning did not please her.
"He doesn't have to do this. I can sleep on the couch or on the floor... It doesn't matter to me."
"But it matters to him." Emma stated, causing Y/N to sit on the bed and then handed the tray to her. "My grandson cares about you. And me too."
"Thanks for that." She murmured, looking at the soup plate.
"Arvin didn't tell me what happened... I'm so worried. I've never seen you like this before."
"I don't want to lie to you, Emma, but I can't explain what happened... I will understand if you don't want a girl like me in your home. I really understand."
"What are you saying? You will always be welcome in this house!" The matriarch of the family held the girl's hands, realizing that she was shaking. "Dear, what did they do to you?"
Y/N wanted to let go of her insecurities and share with Emma what happened at the church, but she was afraid. Preston Teagardin was a religious figure for the entire town, while she was just a sinner. Nobody would believe her.
Always so understanding, Emma recognized that insisting on an answer was not the best thing to do right now. Then she asked the girl to concentrate on the soup. It would do her good. A few minutes later the plate was empty and Y/N looks much better. Smiling, she thanked Emma for everything. The woman was like a second mother to her. It always would be.
"You should try to get some sleep."
Emma kissed the girl's forehead, hoping she would be fine, and left the room, meeting Arvin at the end of the hall. He looked uneasy and quickly approached, saying he needed to see Y/N, but Emma didn't allow it.
"She needs to rest. You should do the same."
...
Hours passed, the house was quiet – indicating that everyone was having a peaceful night's sleep except young Henson. Her mind was too turbulent for her to sleep. Alone in Arvin's room, she looked at the window a few times, trying to decipher whether the noise she was hearing was just the branches of the tree or someone trying to get in. This seemed ridiculous; she was behaving like a frightened child – but that was exactly what she was, or should have been for Teagardin. If Y/N's parents knew what really happened at church that afternoon, they would probably blame her, painting Y/N as a monster.
Be a good christian girl. It was what they said. Respectful, silent, calm. Don't wear short clothes, don't be uninhibited, don't be silly. They projected on Y/N the 'perfect daughter' and were disappointed when they found out that she couldn't be what they wanted.
But, does the 'perfect daughter' really exist?
Feeling overwhelmed by her own thoughts, Y/N stood up and walked through the darkness, looking for the only person who could help her right now. Arvin was lying on the couch; with his arms crossed behind his head and different from what Y/N imagined, he was not sleeping. As soon as he realized he wasn't alone anymore, concern appeared on his face and he pushed the blanket away, getting up quickly.
"This shit is killing me." She confessed in a painful whisper. Next to him, she didn't need the steel armor. She could be herself and show her fears without risking being judged. "At any moment I think he will appear here for..."
"Don't say that." Arvin said, looking away. He spent the last few hours pondering, trying to find a solution to this problem, because he knew that Teagardin would not give up. "I promised you. He will not touch you again."
"My parents will not understand... They will take me back to him, Arvin!" Y/N's voice took on a desperate tone. There was no way out. She was lucky to be able to escape this time, but lightning did not fall twice in the same place. "If I tell my parents that the Preacher tried to abuse me, who do you think they will point out as guilty? They keep saying that I'm going to hell! What's wrong with me?"
"There is nothing wrong with you, Y/N!"
"I s-swear to you that I didn't want this... I didn't provoke him, we're just t-talking! For the first time, someone other than y-you was interested in hearing what I had to say, but when I saw it he was touching my body... He said he would take away all my s-sins."
Slowly, the boy held her face in his hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Seeing Y/N in fear just made Arvin angry. He wanted to take his gun and go to the man's house to end this, regardless of the consequences of his actions. A man like Preston Teagardin did not deserve to live. But Arvin couldn't leave Y/N. She needs him just as he needs her.
"Everything is pretty fine!" The Henson's daughter replied ironically. Drying a single tear, she passed Lenora, walking back to the bedroom. Arvin didn't think twice about following her. "Do you think she heard us?"
"She probably just wanted a glass of water." He reassured her, but the conversation they had was still stuck in his mind. Y/N wasn't crying anymore and that was a good thing. As long as she remained here, Arvin could concentrate on what to do with Teagardin. "I should go... you need to rest." He murmured, looking at her sitting on his bed, considering the possibility of staying, but after what happened, Arvin didn't want to be invasive. And it wasn't right for him to spend the night alone with her.
"Arvin..." Y/N called for him. "Before you go, can you check the window?"
"And under the bed too?" The boy fired back, making her laugh. He loved that sound.
"Under the bed too." She repeated in affirmation, watching him walk to the window, checking if it was locked. Everything was okay, but the girl was surprised when Arvin approached the bed. He was ready to check, but she stopped him by holding his arm. "Hey, I was just kidding."
Laughing, he held the back of her neck, planting a kiss on her forehead and whispering "Sleep tight" before stepping back and tracing his steps to the door, but when his hand touched the knob, her voice echoed:
"Arvin..." His name escaped her lips a second time and he just stopped. "When I heard the noise of your car on the road, I felt safe." Y/N couldn't see, but he smiled. "I feel safe by your side."
"Do you want me to stay?" Arvin turned to face her.
"I don't know... You seem to be running away from me, Russell."
"I'm not running away." He replied, feeling nervous eventually. "I assumed you wanted to be alone... after what happened."
"Nah, you are completely wrong." She shook her head and patted the mattress. With Arvin lying beside her, the girl rested her face on his chest, feeling safe now. It was strange, but that was one of his super powers. "Thanks."
"I would do anything for you, Y/N." He said in the middle of a sigh, wrapping his arm around her waist. Looking him in the eye, she smiled, wondering what her life would be like without him and his unconditional support.
"You were always my best friend."
But I would like to be more than that. Arvin felt the need to say it, but this was not the right time for this conversation. It was difficult to push his feelings deep into his heart again, especially when he was afraid that the right moment would never come. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life loving Y/N in secret. He was not a kid anymore. He was a man. A man in love with her childhood friend. This couldn't be more cliché.
A yawn brought him out of his thoughts and smiling at her, Arvin scoffed:
"Grandma was right when she said you need to rest."
"I'm not tired..." Another yawn came. "Maybe a little bit."
"A little bit? I can see."
___________________________
a/n – Likes and Reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. Really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading x
aaand we’re back with part 2, if you want to be part of the taglist, let me know!!
Posted 7/16/20
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Being a 14 supposed to be 20 year old was not ideal. The girl was stuck in a freshman body for eternity. Literally the worst age to die.
He couldn’t at least kill me when I was 16, I would have rather died then.
And she had so many responsibilities. Gabby had to make sure the speakers glitched at least every two weeks, make the lights flicker in the boys locker rooms, and trip Stiles Stilinski once a day. They weren’t real responsibilities, but she had to make people aware that she was still there. And seeing Stiles Stilinski trip over his own shoes was hilarious, the boy was always dramatic. Although, she had to be careful as Scott McCall was starting to catch on.
-He was sexually assaulted which he said kicked him into a deep depression
-He stated that the stunts from the 3rd Mummy movie completely destroyed his body and he was in and out of the hospital for 7 years even having to get surgery to repair his vocal cords.
-He apparently blamed himself for all this which only worsened his depression.
This man has literally been through hell this past decade so please lets cut him some slack and wish him the best
All this but also that picture on the right is a really bad paparazzi photo compared with a professional quality movie promo still. No one looks good when some random person snaps you on the street, regardless of who you are.
Compare with this image from the GQ article last February:
Proper lighting, professional setting, good angles etc.
The dude is 49 and has had a rough couple of decades, but he’s still lovely to look at, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.
And let’s not forget he was probably slightly to severely dehydrated to look that buff in he first photo.
And I’m so pleased he got work again he seems like a good sort, and from the stealth pilot in Titans, Doom Patrol looks like it should be good.
Summary: Coming up to your one year anniversary with JJ, you decide to make him a scrapbook of your fondest memories. When you arrive at the Chateau to hand him the gift, he gives you a present that you could never forget.
A/N: Hi! Back again with a angsty series that @downbytheouterbanks has helped me charted. Please tell me what you think? Feedback is honestly the foundation of my blog! If you want to be on the tag list, send me an ask! Since this is the prologue, it’s not much but it’s a starting point. If you want to see more of JJ and Reader, let me know. :)
add urself to the masterlist for this series here
“JJ is going to love this. I can’t believe you have taken this many photos, this is talent with a capital t.” Sarah praised your creative skill set, flicking through the countless photographs that you captured.
hellooooo i’ve risen from the dead and its with a fic about outer banks… i’ve fallen in love with jj… thats my baby
this was supposed to be a 5+1 concept and it still kinda is but i got really really carried away. as my new friend @captainpogue calls it the too much gene. so buckle up and grab a snack this is 21k words lmaoooo i hope you enjoy
i love you already
warnings: nothing more than what is mentioned in the show
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You were laying on your stomach, on your bed, flipping through a book. It didn’t have your full attention as your mind was elsewhere. Music filtered in through your headphones but you weren’t really listening to it, either. It was almost dark outside and with the power still out, the few candles lit in your room did little to help you focus on the words in front of you.
It was also extremely hot. You were sweating just laying there. Your shirt was stuck to you and your shorts felt uncomfortable even if they were cloth sleeping shorts. Letting out a frustrated groan, you drop your head down to the book but immediately wince when you feel it get stuck to your forehead. You have to slowly lift your head and peel the page off with your fingers. Gross.
Moving the book, you lay your head down again and just try to breathe. The events of the day are finally catching up to you, making you a bit tired. Your mind is racing as the memories flash through like a movie playing behind your eyelids. Walking down the street and hearing a distressed, “Just shut up, Pope!” You recognized the voice like it was your own and rushed across the street where you came face to face with your group. JJ had looked at you, guilt shining in his eyes as he looked back at Shoupe, “Yeah, it was all me.”
A distressed sigh -one that matched the one you let out as you helplessly watched JJ get pushed into the back of the cop car- leaves your body in a rush and it makes your bed bounce just a little with the force of it. Kiara had moved up to you as you watched Pope let out a scream and storm off, his dad following him angrily with the hat Pope had thrown to the ground. She explained what she knew and all you could do was close your eyes and let out a breath. You knew JJ getting arrested, again, wouldn’t be good for him. He’s seventeen now, still a minor, but he’s so close to being tried as an adult and that scares you.
“Hey, you want to go to the police station, see if we can do something?” Kie had offered when she noticed that you’d done nothing but stare off in the direction the cop car had gone.
“No, his dad will most likely show up.” you stated and winced at your own words. “I’m just going to go home. I’d say text me but you know, towers are down. And my phone might even be dead with the whole no power thing.”
Kie laughed at your tone and it pulled a laugh out of you as well.
Rolling onto your back, you cover your face with your hands and try really hard to keep your frustrations at bay. You know JJ didn’t do shit this time around. You know what he’s covering for and why he’s doing it but god damn it you wished he had a little bit more common sense sometimes. You wish he wouldn’t put others before himself sometimes, even though that wasn’t in his nature. You wish he didn’t have such a temper sometimes, or the need to prove himself, because then that’d help him stay under the radar a bit easier. But you knew that JJ would never lose those parts of himself, that’s just who he was. Someone who cared about others too much because he didn’t want them to feel what he’s felt his whole life but had a temper like no other.
Chapter Warnings: death, angst, just sadness in general
Word Count: 406
A/n: first series! This chapter is a little short, but the next ones will be longer. I'll probably update in the next few days, as opposed to next week, because I have more ideas than I thought I would. However, I am going to be busy for the next week or so, so that may not happen, but I'll try to write in my free time as much as I can. Anyway, I'm super excited for this and hope you enjoy!
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Ever since she was little, Alexandria Stone Reynolds was not a normal girl. She always had the ability to tell people’s emotions very accurately. She could tell when her mother was upset or when her dad was sad. She had an imaginary friend named Mercury. Mercury was a silver snake that went everywhere with Alexandria. She always said that she could really see Mercury, but her parents always brushed it off as an overactive imagination.
This was not the case. Alexandria could see Mercury, but others could not. This was because Mercury was an illusion that Alexandria had created that only she could see. This was only one aspect of her abilities. Her other powers started to take shape around the age of four.
It first happened when she had lost her stuffed animal, Muffins. Muffins was a bunny rabbit she took everywhere. When she couldn’t find Muffins, she started to cry. Not only that, but her hair turned from its natural black color to a dark blue.
Her parents were astounded. They thought it was just a trick of the light at first, but it continued to happen. When she was happy, it would turn purple. When she was annoyed, it would turn green. Late at night, it would turn indigo, meaning she was exhausted.
When she was five, Alexandria’s parents took her to the beach. They had a great time, up until it was time to go. Alexandria didn’t want to leave, so her hair turned dark blue and she started to cry and scream. Her parents tried everything, but they couldn’t get her to move.
After nearly 15 minutes of trying to get her to leave, something happened. Diane, Alexandria’s mother, was lifted into the air by an invisible force. Then, she started to scream. Something was wrapping itself around her throat, and squeezing tight.
Alexandria was able to feel her pain and continued to scream, but louder. Her father realized what was going on, picked her up, and ran at Diane’s instructions. That was the day Diane Reynolds died. That was the day Alexandria’s life changed forever.
Her hair stayed a deep blue for many years afterward. She didn’t talk as much, and she was more distant with her dad. She took to making illusions to cope. Some were of her mom, others were simply things she liked that helped distract her.
That day haunted Alexandria for the rest of her life.
SUMMARY; Y/N is falling for the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Unrelated, her and that dork Peter do not get along. (enemies to lovers au)
PAIRING; peter parker x reader
WORDS; 2554
WARNING; reader being dumbdumb and short i’m so sorry
Spiderman left you stranded behind him, feet still dangling from the edge of the roof and before you knew it his red and blue shadow had disappeared into the night. As you made your way back home, you checked the news–there was no robbery on fifth.
It had been three weeks since you had broken up with Peter. Three long painful weeks of trying to get over Peter while also being asked by what seemed to be the entire population of Midtown Tech, “What happened?“ Most of them had been under the assumption you two hadn’t been together for a while, but once they realized you had dropped him altogether, they couldn’t help but ask.
But your answer was always the same, "We just grew apart."
However in a surprising turn of events, your saving grace ended up being Brad. As planned the two of you met up the Saturday after you broke up with Peter and the night had turned from completing the project to you venting about the break up, with Brad listening attentively.
And the Monday after the break up, Peter had stuck to your word and hadn’t said a single syllable to you, in fact he hadn’t even glanced your way, which you hated to admit really fucking hurt. You know what you said, but this just further proved your thought that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. But nonetheless, no words were spoken to each other which made your lunch period pretty awkward, for you at least. Because you decided not to sit in your usual spot, MJ was out that day so you ended up taking a seat at an empty table and ate your lunch by yourself, ignoring the glances Ned sent your way. You ate for about ten minutes in silence before Brad had come over, asking if he could sit with you. You easily agreed, since you’d rather eat your lunch with someone rather than by yourself and you did really enjoy Brad’s company, it was also an excuse to get some more of your project done, but deep down you knew there was a part of you that just wanted to spite Peter.
Summary: Tom didn’t think that his life would turn upside down. After your disappearance, Tom grew up finding it harder to get over your unfortunate death. But what he would come to find out was just how your death lined up with many other reports.
Pairing: Cop!Tom Holland & Ghost!Fem!Reader
A/n: Might just make this into a mini-series, who knows
~Masterlist~
It was halfway into fall. The season where there seemed to be more joy and laughter in the world. The leaves dancing from branch to branch until they took a dive to the ground. They all fell one at a time, some more than others with a little bit of help from the wind. They covered the grass beneath our feet. Crunching under shoes with each step someone took. Mixtures of reds, greens, and oranges coming together to create the perfect scenery. It was probably why you enjoyed fall so much. The way the fresh breeze of air would fill your nose. The big deep breath you would intake making you feel filled with something new, something relaxing. Although some would argue and say that they’d have to deal with the mess of piles the trees would create. The mess never seemed to bother you. Just as long as you got to create massive piles to jump in, you were more than satisfied.
Hey guys! Sorry for the hiatus on this book; I really want to finish it, it’s just I have had to deal with a lot of problems, lately, but now, I’m really pumped to hopefully finish this book! Anyway, if you have, thanks for sticking around! Love ya!
Dust billowed along the dank, make-shift “catacombs” of the Scorch, spiderwebs stitched upon the fractured ceiling, and graffiti spilled along the walls of the passageways like thick, fat ink on ivory-white paper.
Amelia shivered as she gazed around, blue eyes shot with palpable fear, endeavoring to comprehend the decrepit location and predicament she was stuck in, or rather carried into.
The girl didn’t understand where her Thomas -her father-had taken her, chucking the brunette onto his back, her pallid, clammy hands gripping onto the boy as collapsing floors trailed the pair.
