when teenage!nanami's studies are distracted a social butterfly in a hot pink bikini.
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tags: nerd x bimbo, teenage!nanami, teenage!reader, set c.2005, grumpy x sunshine, very ooc (i cant characterize teenage nanami for the life of me SORRY) summer romance, chubby/curvy!reader (ik not all chubby girls are curvy or hourglass, but since i personally have that body type i feel more equipped to write that as i have the experience lol), nanami is an awkward dork, reader is kinda ditzy but thats ok, (1.7k words)
Nanami was not quite fond of the extension to his little friend group trip's extension.
He was, no doubt, a studious guy. He was interested in mathematics, economics, and academia, especially after the passing of his closest friend. Haibara brought him out of his shell and as soon as he was murdered, Nanami threw himself into the studies, obsessive with getting good enough grades to escape to a life of normalcy.
So all that to say, he was currently being the loser at the beach reading a novel.
It was the Japanese translation of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. He was around three hundred out of seven hundred-ish, flipping through the pages as he sat in the shade of a sprawling mikan tree, a Japanese mandarin dropping by gravity's force every few minutes. There weren't many fruit trees around where in Tokyo he lived—while there were a few in the more agricultural regions, along citrus picking paths, but not in the heart of the city. Not like there was all across Shizuoka, at least.
He licked his finger, flipping the page, finishing yet another chapter. But that wasn't going to stop him—he'd keep reading until it was finally time to go, he didn't want to let his mind rest, to slack off and be less sharp by the time he gets back to school in a few weeks. He was internally blocking out and muffling every noise on the beach, every loud shriek and crashing wave... and unfortunately, every footstep encroaching behind him.
"Oh, shit—!" you squealed, tumbling head first into the sand in front of him. "Oh, god, I'm sorry, I was looking at my phone!" You shoved up onto your knees, turning around to face him, extresion apologetic as all hell.
Your expression worsened just in time with Nanami noticing a very unfortunate sensation... cold wetness sliding down the length of his right arm. "It is alright," he mumbled in response to your apology, picking up a corner of the towel he was sitting on (to avoid getting sand in his uniform pants) and wiped off what he quickly realized was neapolitan ice-cream. Luckily most of it had hit the sand head-on when you fell, instead of on his arm, but some had still splashed up and licked his shoulder and upper arm.
"It didn't hit your book, did it?" you asked worriedly, picking up the thick copy to check that the pages were all still dry. To your relief, they were, which prompted your next question. "...what book's this?"
"Crime and Punishment," Nanami grumbled, deciding it would just be better to just take his overcoat off entirely and stay in his uniform pants and white shirt.
You cocked your head, brows furrowed, not understanding his answe to the question. "Huh?"
"...Fyodor Dostoevsky," he said, as if that clarified anything.
It did not—if anything, all it did was confuse you further, the angle of your head falling even further to the side. "It's a classic novel."
"Ohh," you giggled nervously, now rather humiliated with your lack of knowledge on the topic. "Sorry, I... I don't read a lot. Unless you count magazines, I'm big into fashion magazines. ViVi, and stuff."
"Never heard of it," Nanami responded, finally looking up to meet your eyes.
"It's a, uhh, gyaru fashion magazine." Normally you were excited to talk about all your favourite things like this, but Nanami seemed so much smarter than you, you didn't wanna bore him or anything!
"Seems fascinating," he replied, much to your relief. Your shoulders untensed, smile less creased than before, more sincere.
At that, you introduced yourself, extending a soft and carefully manicured hand, which he met with a far less delicate one. "Nanami Kento."
"That's a nice name," you smiled, eyes crinkling. Your smile was wide, sweet, sincere. All things Nanami admired, and was enamoured with. "Smart, like you, so I guess it matches."
"I'm not particularly smart, I just like to read in my spare time. I'm sure you would too if you just found some good ones."
"Oh, if that—" you gestured at the thick copy of Crime and Punishment, "—is casual reading to you, I don't think there's any books you'd be into that I could wrap my head around, too."
"I could suggest you a few."
"Uhm—alright," you relented, breathing out as you spoke, resulting in your voice sounding far breathier and softer than it already was. God, Nanami was fucked.
"Uhm... lighter reading, maybe 'Of Mice and Men' or 'Snow Country,' if you're looking for a classic, or, like, 'Before the Coffee Gets Cold' is pretty good. Or—or so I'm told, I haven't quite got around to reading it myself..." he murmured, mesmerized by your interested expression, and the sweat beating off your glistening skin, or... where was he?
"Would you maybe wanna come with me to the library? Those sound interesting but I don't really know how to navigate it," you giggled, scratching behind your head.
"Sure—su-sure," Nanami immediately stuttered out, a wave of panic crashing over his perfectly styled, emo-adjacent blonde hair.
"Great!" you preened, hands slapping lightly over your thighs before pushing yourself up and giggling as you extended one to him. He wiped his sweaty palm (sue him, it was hot out!) on the uniform pants before taking your hand and letting you pull him (well, in all honestly, he was doing a good ninety per cent of the lifting, he didn't wanna put strain on you. At all).
He dusted the sand off his back, ass, and thighs, before falling into step alongside you. You seemed to be a local of the area, clearly knowing your way around, at least enough to navigate to the library (if only because it was attached to a nearby shopping center, the book shop being a neighbour of a very pink vintage store you clearly frequented).
"So that last book you recommended, the coffee one, who told you it was good? A girlfriend or something?" you asked curiously, eyes glinting up at him as you passed through the automatically opening door.
"What?!" Nanami squeaked, voice cracking like the gangly teen boy he was before he fake-coughed to bring his voice back down to its neutral, cool, 'nonchalant' tone. "I mean—no, no, I don't have a girlfriend, I've, uhm... n-never," he swallowed, voice lowering with the embarrassment that came with what he was about to confess, "never had a girlfriend..."
"Aww, oh, really?" you giggled, lifting a hand to cover your mouth as you did.
"Y-yeah, there're no girls in my grade, at my school," he mumbled, adjusting his collar and looking around the library—he feigned searching for the book but really, he was trying to look anywhere but at you, knowing if he did meet your eyes again he'd be gone.
"Oh, weird," you mumbled to yourself before loudly giggling again. "Well, that's shocking, you're a real cutie, Nanamin~!" You reached up, poking his cheek (though there wasn't much to poke at, not much chub to his face, as he's always been pretty gaunt).
He sputtered, face now an inferno of crimson blush and warmth. "You—uhm, based on, err, my p-personal... opion, I—hah, I... I think you are also quite, uhh, c-cute... o-or pretty! If that's what you, uhm, pre... prefer," he rambled, shoving a lanky hand through his styled blonde hair.
He panicked as you continued to stare up at him, so in a (miserable) attempt to seem "normal," he made the grave mistake of mimicking your mannerisms. They were... significantly less endearing on him.
He reached up the same way you did with him, poking your cheek back, which (unlike his) squished under his light pressure and sprung right back when he moved his hand away. It was something he found very charming about you, the chubby little chipmunk-like cheeks that cupped either side of your face. You were on the chubbier size, with reflected in your face shape, as well as in the way you filled out your summer outfit.
His eyes dragged down your body to the hot pink bikini top filled out by your soft chest, before his eyes snapped right back up. "Right, so—the... the books," he stammered lowly before turning around, scanning through the aisles. "Here it is!" he grumbled as he slipped a book off the aisle, 雪国 ("Snow Country"), and handing it over to you. "I dunno if you have a library card or anything but, yeah, it's a good book you can check out."
"Thank you!" you squealed, pink dusting your cheeks as you clutched the book tight to your chest.
You stood in awkward silence for a moment, him scratching behind his neck. God, he'd have so much to catch Haibara up on when he got back to the bed and breakfast.
"I should get going," he finally said awkwardly, gruffly. "I don't wanna keep my friends waiting up at our B&B..."
"Oh, alright, well... thank you, Nanami-kun," you smiled sweetly, pushing your hair back and out of your eyes, adjusting your stance to let him pass so he could leave the library as you check out the book he picked for you.
"Right, thanks," he mumbled, brushing past you, tall and lanky as he stalked through the aisle to the exit. He was berating himself mentally for leaving it there (and leaving so abruptly in the first place), but just shoved his hands in his uniform pockets and continued to scold himself.
"Oh, wait!" you called, the librarian standing up to shush you. You awkwardly laughed it off, jogging up to catch him before he left, a sparkle of excitement in your eyes.
"Can I get your phone number? To tell you what I think of the book," you requested.
"Sure." On the outside, Kento seemed rather nonchalant about said question, but internally, he was incredibly excited. Jumping, kicking, squealing with joy. He whipped out his flip-phone, snapping it open to type in the phone number you recited out to him.
Before leaving he raised the phone, taking a quick picture for your contact photo. You held two fingers up in a little peace symbol, lips puckered, eyes all smiley.
He thanked you and bolted out, heart pattering. He knew he had to turn off his phone after saving the contact, and to get out of the library (away from you), lest his heart burst.
authors note: i dont think many ppl are reading this series but idc i love it blehh
general taglist (just one person rn but they a real one fr a BIG kiss for them): @mischivana
synapsis: ,,, a breakout, a teenager, and a tired woman combine.
#tags - zombie apocalypse, found family, use of bad language, teen reader is mad about everything and hates everyone, including themself, and has some minor thoughts about ending their life, sevika tries to be soft, accidental injury follows, TW blood
#a/n - i had prom and graduated yesterday... so this took WAY longer than promised... i'm sorry... anyways part three... i'm scared are you ??
<- chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 -> | masterlist.
——×— · · ─ ༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻─ · · —×——
> CHAPTER 3 Hurt Twofold
Wipers whine against the windshield.
Your eyes burn when they flutter open: corneas gaining damage from the bright layer of white blanketing the nature that surrounds you.
The road is lost to the eye. Can't tell where each line ends.
You stretch; fingertips grazing the matted roof of the truck, back cracking like your bones just snapped back to their place.
"Snow-?" you then croak out, blinking a tired eye towards Sevika.
She's leaning against her hand, shoulder pressed to her window.
"Yup. Bunch of it," is the short, clipped answer you receive.
Too tired to question her further, you rub your eyes and try to twist around to catch a sight of the view behind you.
It's no better than the view infront.
Miles of emptiness. No houses. No people. Snow-covered trees that just barely pass as forests.
A tumble of white dust follows the truck. The tires scrunch.
"Caroline holdin' up okay?" you joke lightly, turning back around to face ahead.
"Yeah. Fine." Sevika side-eyes you, feigning weak anger, though, a tired smirk twists at her lips. "Filled 'er tank a few miles back. You were out cold."
"I didn't get my nightly dose of sleep," you argue lightly, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. "Y'woke me up early, 's what you get."
"Get peace n' silence for eight hours straight?" Sevika raises an eyebrow. Throws a dry look at you, and then focuses back on the road.
You scoff. "Pfft, yeah. Eight hours, for sure," your eyes roll on their own, tone groaning as you bend down to fetch your bag from your feet — rummaging through it.
"Yeah. Eight hours," Sevika chuckles, finding amusement in your denial. "Was a peaceful day. I already miss it."
"I didn't sleep that long. It's still bright out-" you whip your head up to check. Glance around once again. Back, left, right, forward. Up at the sky.
It is indeed not that bright out.
"Okay. Whatever. Depends who you ask," you then declare, and return to going through your backpack.
Sevika grunts, first with amusement, and then with annoyance — as your digging shows no end.
"T'daylight hidden somewhere 'nthere?"
"No," you deadpan. Dig the bag some more. Throw whatever comes your way — out of your way.
A hairbrush hits Sevika in the face. Her nerves win.
Her hand reaches out to yank the bag away from you — only for you to yank it right back.
"What the fuck??" you shout.
Sevika tries to multitask driving and arguing. For whatever stubborn reason.
"Jesus, kid! Just-"
She stops the the car. Sudden. Breaks streeching.
It halts.
You're both panting; eyes wide, hands on the board, fingers shaking.
A deer stares back at you. Eyes just about as wide as yours, nose twitching.
Silence. No one moves.
Then the deer runs off. Feet clanking against the frozen road, the sound carrying itself inside the truck.
"Christ," Sevika heaves. Running a hand over her face, your bag still in her hand; only now it's down enough for you to snatch back.
"Don't make it your business to act like my mom. I have enough issues without someone trying to control everything I do," you spit — slamming the door shut with uncontainted anger, and nothing but a backpack to your name.
You then walk the side of the road, feet leaving small inprints to the snow below. Your sneakers squek.
You don't glance back. No sound follows you.
Then the truck starts again.
For a brief, sad second — you're certain Sevika's going to drive off without you. Just speed right past.
She should. That's what you want her to do.
That's what you've convinced yourself.
Then the hood of the truck appears in your field of vision. Sevika's driving it slow, one hand on the wheel — other hanging out your window.
"I'm sorry, okay? Get back in. It's fuckin' freezing," she tries.
You don't look at her when she reaches your pace.
A frustrated sigh.
"You're right. It ain't my business what you do," she presses the gas. Backs far enough to catch your eyes. "Sorry for snappin' for no reason. Someone's oughta keep you in line," she grins weakly, making a jab at her own wrongdoings.
Your steps halt. Sevika stops the truck.
You glare at her.
"I'm reeaaally sorry-" Sevika holds a hand to her chest, grinning.
It's like a melodramatic play. A modern, cheap one at that.
"You're awful."
"The worst," she agrees in a tired grumble, opening the door for you.
You don't move. Sevika catches the glimmer in your eye; one hinting at trouble.
Her head drops to hang low. "What?" she mutters, gruff. Loathing.
"You let me drive a mile."
Her head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief. There's a permanent scowl on her face.
"Absolutely not. Nope. No chance."
"Yes. One mile of me handlin' Caroline and I'll let you keep your authority," you press. "And I get to smoke one cigarette. Mine are out," you add just as her mouth opens.
It closes again.
Sevika mirrors your earlier glare and reluctantly pushes the door open wider.
"You owe it to me. Snappin' for no reason!"
"Fine."
You grin in winning, eagerly climbing back into the truck.
"But- after we clear this snow. Don't wanna end up dead in a ditch," Sevika clarifies, waiting for you to settle before pressing the gas pedal once again.
"I don't see this snow vanishing anytime soon," you snicker lightly, poking her side. Just pushing the buttons you've already set off once.
Sevika scoffs and dodges the pokes, focused on the long road unfolding far into the horizon.
"Patience is a virtue."
You bite the inside of your cheek.
"... kinda hypocritical. I mean, you just lost it because i was going through my bag-"
"-patience is a virtue." Sevika repeats it, only louder than before, yet hearing you just fine.
"Okayyy," you titter. "Whatever you say."
Caroline's been resting on the side of the road for hours.
You're perched up near the campfire with a twig in hand, prodding at the few chumps of wood with deadly consentration; tongue peeking out the corner of your mouth.
The fire crackles — and a small ember nearly catches onto your jacket.
"Fuck!" you yell, tumbling back just to fall flat on your ass.
"Ouch..." you wince.
"Told you not to go near that."
"Fuck!!" you yell again, jumping back another few inches as Sevika's figure emerges from the darkness.
"I was just helping," you jeer, throwing your stick at her. Sevika watches it hit her chest and fall to the ground.
"Don't. More trouble than it's worth."
She kneels by the fire, rearranging the woods with a log. You follow the movement.
"Plus, you're already injured," she continues, voice a low murmur. You look down at your stitched hand and scoff.
"Don'need any more damage," she says.
You're silent for a while — watching her handle the fire. Then you perk up, voice certain. Defensive.
"I've handled campfires before. On my own. I can do it now, too."
A laugh.
"Oh, yeah?" Sevika throws you an unamused look. "How'd that turn out just now? How 'bout before?"
You furrow your brows, trying to remember anything positive to pass along about your prior experience with fire.
Nothing comes up.
Your argument falls apart.
"I... uh, burned my hand," you admit, waving around the scarred palm.
Sevika doesn't even look.
"Figured. Was stitchin' up the same arm just days ago. Hard to miss it." She gestures towards the limb, gaze finally moving to you — the fire abandoned.
"Uhh, yeah."
You awkwardly twist your feet against the snowy ground. Sevika watches.
The fire crackles and another timber flies by you — giving you enough of a reason to scoot back to sit on a tree log like Sevika already is.
It's admittedly better than the cold ground.
Sevika pokes at the fire. Wind blows just lightly; grazing treetops with a gentle sway.
"What's your favourite colour?" you break the silence.
Sevika glares at you over the fire.
"Black," she deadpans — her tone matter-of-fact.
"Oh, depressing. Nice."
"Okay, short stuff, what's yours?" she pushes.
"Short stuff?" you question, mouth dropping open.
Sevika smirks smugly. "Are you not like, what, one-four-something tall?" she teases, poking at two different fires. The camp's and yours.
"No! I'm not even-" you cut yourself off with a groan and take a deep, shaky breath. "Whatever. My favourite colour is green. But I like all the colours."
"All of 'em? Wow. How childlike."
"It's still less depressing than your answer!" you argue between chuckles, hands flailing in exaggeration.
"Fine. You win, odd child."
"You're the odd one," you mutter under your breath, mind reeling for a new question.
A new one finds its place in your mouth quickly.
"Favourite animal?"
"Wolves. Boring question, next one," Sevika demands, dry humor painting her tone.
She rummages a bag and pulls out a can of tuna to hold over by the fire.
"You're dull," you snicker. The smirk never once vanishes from Sevika's face.
You mind mulls over all its carefully stored questions and settles on another one.
"Okay," you prop yourself better on the log, facing Sevika. "How would your life be like if the breakout never happened?"
Sevika goes silent.
For long enough to scare you into thinking you crossed a boundary that should've been left alone.
Then she moves. Takes her can of tuna — and speaks.
"Lonely," comes out honest and witty. Automatically, mid-tuna-bite. "Not that different," she hums tiredly with a mouthful; voice carrying a distant, muffled weight.
"I'd have a middle-wage job in the office. Ride around with Caroline every friday, lookin' to get some company for the weekend."
You nod carefully, unsure of what to say or do. Shit, great. Good job choosing the question. Not depressing at all.
"If it makes you feel any better, i'd probably be dead," you blurt out, eyes faraway, but your voice carrying a weirdly upbeat tone.
"Like, gone for good. If not because of my dad, I would've done it myself," you blabber — unable to stop now that you've started.
"I mean- I dunno how I ever made it this far, even. I'm not really supposed to be here," you chuckle; a squeaky, nervous sound.
That's when you look up.
Sevika's staring at you in near horrification — concern etched so deep into the lines of her face that it scares you. A lot.
"I'm fine, now!" you backpedal, eyes shining.
"Are you?" Sevika questions, eyes still wide, voice unnaturally careful.
"Yeah. I mean, I'm here, aren't I?" you smile wide — attempting to push the oncoming tears away. Your knee bounces.
Sevika nods with a frown, not missing a single second of your efforts in hiding vulnerability. You're performing the act with complete profession.
Might've even fooled someone who wasn't familiar with shielding their heart, too.
It takes one to know one.
"Yeah. You're here," Sevika agrees, eyes holding a level of understanding no words can pass along.
You swallow. Thick. Raw.
"So. Eheh," you wipe at your cheek, concealing a sniffle with a weak laugh. A crack in your carefully built armor.
"My favourite animal has to be tiger," you cheerfully state, carrying on like the previous two minutes weren't apart of the conversation to begin with.
Sevika goes along.
She knows some things are better left in the past. They're not worth the trouble.
"Tigers, huh? Why?"
"The cool patterns. Like permanent battle wounds," you explain. "And their face has this cool shape that only shows whenever they're hunting. I think that's cool."
Sevika chuckles, choosing to ignore the cold ache in her chest. The one that comes with fear and worry and ends in inevitable hurt.
"Not wrong there."
"Which one's are scarier, though? I think that's the real question."
"Wolves, easy. They got that howl."
"That's never once been scary. Ever in history," you argue lightly, laying down onto the log — your bag working as a pillow. An uncomfortable one.
"Never say never until you've experienced it," Sevika hums. "Sayin' works for every situation. Remember that."
You burst into tired giggles."You've heard a wolf howling?"
"Well-" Sevika's own composure breaks, a gruff laugh bubbling from her chest. "'m almost certain' it was a wolf... was a pretty loud night, I can't say f'sure-"
"Can't say for sure?" you question and laugh, gazing at the shining sky above.
A star winks back at you.
Sevika pokes at the fire, playful act hiding the lingering concern in her body.
"Never could say f'sure, kid. Never quite."
Whatever happened last night has vanished from both your memories.
Nothing was revealed. No one almost cried.
But everythings been awkward since.
And Sevika's acting different around you.
Carefully nitpicking every word and syllible before she speaks. Constantly eyeing you when she thinks you aren't looking. Tippytoeing around you in a protective cycle — both figuratively, and damn near literally.
"You sleep okay?" she asked when you two climbed the truck again, voice softer than the night prior.
"If a sore back doesn't offset a good night's sleep, then yeah," you answered.
And since then: the truck's been silent.
Repeatedly awkward, and whatever shitty country song is humming low from the speakers — is doing a terrible job at disguising that.
Sevika shatters the tension in the air, clearing her throat to catch your attention. Not like it had gone very far.
"You holdin' up okay?"
"I'm fine," you hiss, not looking at Sevika.
"Okay. That's good," she mutters.
Awkward silence once again.
You're already counting down the hours until sun sets. Sleeping is your only escape from this annoying woman and her bleak roadtrip to absolutely nowhere.
"Wouldya' look at that," Sevika let's out a shocked whistle, steering the truck left — towards an old gas station.
"Y'think there's anything worthwhile left in there?" you ask, voice blank. Bored.
"Idunno. Worth a shot, right?" she hums, parking Caroline upfront. She takes the keys, and after climbing out of the truck, she turns to you — still sitting in your seat, facing the other way.
Not looking particularly excited.
"You coming?" she asks.
No answer. Typical teenage grumpiness.
Sevika sighs.
"Maybe they got somethin' for you. A number on those magazines you carry." She gestures to your bag. "Can't have read them all, can ya?"
A second passes.
Then,
"I guess..." you agree cautiously. "I haven't."
"See? C'mon. Give it a shot." She taps the roof of the truck twice, urging you out.
You chuckle weakly, a tired smile on your face as you climb out and leave your bag beside Sevika's.
"Good, good," she hums, guiding you inside the decaying convenience store with a brief hand to your back.
You push it off and skip a few steps ahead of her just to gain some distance.
Inside, there's not much to gather up. Rows and rows of shelves, some of which have fallen down. Old food and whatever other supplies scattered in every crook and corner — none edible or of any value.
"Yikes." You gag, kicking a can across the floor.
"It... has seen better days," Sevika chuckles.
You glare at her.
"Why am I even here? It smells like death!" you exclaim, making faces and gesturing around. Dust particles float around the stale air.
"Calm down. I'm sure you'll dig up somethin' worth savin'. Go look around."
You scoff and roll your eyes, storming towards the door. "I'm going back to the truck-"
Sevika grabs your forearm — just above the sore stitches. Intentionally.
"Hey!"
You wince and halt in your steps, slowly turning to face her.
"I'm tryin' to be nice to you, but it's hard when you keep being ungrateful for every little thing. That can't make things better for either of us," she yells, frustration getting the best of her.
You stand still, numbly taking it all.
Sevika recoils. Just a little, but there's a snappy undertone in her words. "You gotta do your part, too, damnit."
You blink, chewing on your lip.
"Okay. Fine."
You twist out of her hold — sauntering straight to the back of the store.
Sevika watches in exparation, jaw clenching.
"Fine! You just sulk around! I'm sure that'll help the both of us by a lot!" she yells after you. Gets a tiny thud as an answer.
Then — silence. Again.
"Immature," Sevika mutters to herself, scouring the shelves in the search for anything withholding value.
Minutes pass. Sevika spends each one muttering bitter things under her breath, bantering with thin air.
"We've all lived rough lives," her ranting continues, "but I ain't see myself pouting just because-"
A louder crash.
A pained whimper.
"Kid?" Sevika turns around in a flash, feet already moving towards the sound of commotion.
Another smash echoes in the empty building. A collision. An echoing groan — one not of a humans. Shit.
"Kiddo? Answer me!" she shouts, sprinting now.
Between aisles — a terrifying sight greets her.
You with your thigh pierced and bleeding; trying to push off a decaying, rotten walker with it's mouth hanging open by your face.
Sevika moves.
Within seconds— she's smashing the walker in the face, knocking it out for good to step on its mushy head.
A gory, bloody sight paints the tiled floor, but it isn't enough to distract Sevika from your pained cries behind her.
"Kid- fuck.." Sevika panics, taking you in.
Half a fucking metal shelf is in your thigh. halfway inside. Inside.
Blood soaks your jeans at a speed to fast for her liking — your face already paling double the way it did when your arm got busted.
That was a surface wound. Just deep enough to scare but not truly harm.
This is deep. Piercing.
"H- hurts s'much," you cry weakly, hand flailing at her, eyes hazy with growing pain.
"Oh, shit- shit, I know," Sevika heaves, trying to asses your state.
Not good.
"Fuck, just- hold onto my hand, okay? Gotta getcha up," she helps you stand — only for the metal to move inside your leg.
You cry out.
"I know, kid, I'm sorry," Sevika blabbers, hoisting you up into her arms. The jostle of it pushes another scream out of you.
"I know- fuck..."
Sevika pushes the door open with her back and strides out of the store, legs growing weak with you crying in her arms.
You look bad.
"This's gonna hurt, but i need to getcha inside, okay?" she nods down at you, desparately clinging onto eye contact. You nod back shakily.
Sevika opens the trucks door and begins to gently lay you down; trying her very best to ignore each pained sound that it earns from you.
"Easy, easy does it-..."
The metal shifts once again — now majorly enough to rip your jeans along with it.
You scream again.
Sevika shuses you, face twisted in pain. "I'm so sorry," she winces, closing your door to round the car.
Her seat feels wrong. Breathing feels tight.
She fumbles with the keys, hands shaking, heart pounding. "You still with me?" she checks in.
You hiccup a pained, "a-ha..."
The truck starts and Sevika sways it back out into the open road.
Panic threatens to pull her down with you, mind reeling for a solution to your pain. Her thoughts go blank. Every prior survival instinct disappears into thin air.
"Talk to me. Tell me about somethin'," she demands, voice cracking, shaking.
"Tigers, you like those, right? Tell me 'boutthem," she urges, refusing to let you pass out. You might not sound the part, but man, do you look it.
"T- they can climb trees," you mutter, voice trembling. It sounds cold.
The teeth clattering kind; the sudden kind.
"Climb trees? Humor me," Sevika pushes, eyes scanning the road.
Nothing, nothing, and some more of nothing for what has to be fucking miles.
"Yeah, w-... with the claws," you force out, eyelids growing heavy. "'n they eat deers."
"Deers, huh? We saw one yesterday, didn't we? Remember that?" Sevika fumbles with the glove-box; one hand on the wheel. Old cans, empty cigarette packs — but zero shit to help you with.
The truck goes over a bump. You wince.
"I remember," you whisper, silent tears trailing down the apples of your cheeks in shiny paths.
Sevika's mouth curls at the sight, something in her heart twisting. Fuck.
"Was pretty scary, wasn't it?" she swallows, sweat collecting on her forehead.
Not as scary as this, she doesn't add.
"'m cold," you whisper.
"Shit, I know," Sevika's voice cracks, tongue coming out to wet her lips, eyes never coming stopping their balling between you and the road.
"You can hold my hand," she then offers without a second thought, grabbing your small hand into hers.
It's cold, like expected. Trembling, too.
She runs her thumb over the palm of your hand; the movement meant to soothe.
"Does this hurt?" she asks to distract you.
"No. It feels nice," you hiccup tiredly.
"Good. That's good. Focus on that, yeah?"
"Y- yeah..."
Sevika gulps, foot abusing the gas pedal. The truck slides on the icy road every now and then, gliding near the edge — a risk she's willing to handle.
Your vision blurs. Motion mixes into itself around you — spit collecting in your mouth, bile rising somewhere in your throat.
A chocked sob breaks free from your mouth; followed by a series of fresh tears.
You begin to blabber things no sober being could ever understand, growing hysterical.
"Oh, kid, it's okay... deep breaths," Sevika tries to soothe you, thumb still rubbing.
"I'don' wanna die anymore," you cry.
Sevika's stunned into silence.
"I'don' wanna... I'm scared, Vika," you sob in unadultered pain, teeth clenched as another cramp bites at your leg.
"I don't want to..."
"Fuck," Sevika heaves, fear creeping at her own doorstep.
She can hear her pulse in her ears; thrumming loud.
"You're not gon' die. I swear to you. It's gonna be okay."
"Promise me," you whimper, dread burning a hole into your chest.
Your ears ring, the sound nearly drowning out Sevika's voice as she squeezes your hand.
"I promise."
Another squeeze comes from her. You almost squeeze back.
Silence follows too quick.
"Kid?" Sevika looks down — and finds your eyes closed.
"Hey! No, no, no, no-... open those eyes for me, sweet girl," she taps your cheek, truck nearly swaying off the road.
Your eyes flutter.
Blood now paints not just your clothes — but the leather seats below.
"'m scared."
"Don't be. I'm right here."
Trying to keep you awake almost makes Sevika miss the smoke rising in the distance.
Smoke.
People. A possibilty.
Hope sparks in her chest, naive in its quickness.
"Hold on f'me. Stay awake."
Sevika takes a rough turn, truck swaying.
You don't even cry out at the harsh move — just let your head loll to the side, breaths laboured. Heavy.
"Cany' tell me more 'bout the tigers?" Sevika pleads.
No answer.
"Please, fuck," she pleads in a low whisper, hand curling harder around yours.
Nothing.
Something grey and tall sits behind a batch of trees — cloaked by the snowy branches that scrape against the trucks roof.
Sevika swallows thickly. Drives forward.
Concrete walls, shrouded by the foliage of plants just moments before, greet her with empty hellos.
But the smoke still rises somewhere inside. A light lits up near what Sevika thinks is the entrance.
She doesn't think: she moves.
"C'mon, up we go," Sevika grunts as she lifts you up and over the center console — and accidentally rolls the earlier country beat to thrum even louder.
The speakers boom behind her.
What would be a comical timing in any other situation only makes panic rise.
"We need help! She's injured!" Sevika yells the second she's out of the car, looking up at the manmade fence looming over you both.
She holds you close as you clutch at your leg in utter agony, head spinning.
Sevika's yells, even when let out right by your ear, never truly register.
They stay and they linger in the canals of your ears, ringing right back out.
"Please," Sevika pleads, voice rough. Pretent anger to lace over any true fear.
"If someone can hear us, please, just-!"
Something loud clangs. Loud enough to jolt even half-passed-out you.
The cement parts into two with great struggle; a gateway opening up in the middle.
Sevika watches it open with her mouth following tandem — not bothering to cover up her surprise for even a second.
There are people.
Before anyone can bother to introduce themselves, a man up front steps ahead.
"Is she awake? Where's the injury?"
"I- she's out, pierced thigh." Sevika fumbles over her words, the adrenaline pumping in her body partly working against her.
He dashes forward, eyes assessing not just you; pale in her arms — but Sevika, too.
"How deep?" comes out urgent.
"I- I don't know, christ- Deep enough?!"
He nods. Springs right into action.
"Follow me," he declares, running back through the concrete gates to safety.
Shock takes over Sevika's body in the form of silent observation.
Hundreds of people surrond her in every possible direction — following her steps as she runs right on the man's heels.
"Jesus, fuck," she mutters.
"It's a shocker, I know." The man weaves past someone, feet carrying him to familiar places. Sevika follows.
A tall building looms in short distance.
A drapery swings in the wind, its red cross contracting with the fabric's white.
"Halen!" the man calls out, voice carrying through the air in a pressing call.
A younger woman nursing a cigarette near the medical bay's entry turns her head — eyes going wide the second she registers the sight in front.
Two people sprinting towards her.
Someone new in clear distress.
A girl, maybe teen of age: bleeding in the other's arms — already having stained more than half of both their attire.
"Call Anye down from the fifteenth post!" the man yells, guiding Sevika through the entrance doors.
Halen nods and runs off.
Chaos continues inside. People already injured, yet none as badly as you.
Nurses abandon any non-urgent stitch-ups immediately. Shoes squek down the hallways. Something beeps in the distance, and in a split second-
You're being ripped away from Sevika's arms.
"Where are you taking her?" Sevika barks, anger holding itself stronger than fear.
"She'll be fine," the man affirms, yet doesn't answer her question. He helps someone pull on gloves, rummaging the front desk for paperwork.
Letters flash. AB's, O's, B's-
"But not if she doesn't get transfer soon."
"I can help. Let me be with her," Sevika's voice cracks. Fear finally overiding the anger.
"No. Stand back," someone commands.
They wheel you off somewhere. A room with flashing lights and windows with the drapes shut tight.
A mass of doctors, or people pretending to be the part — follow with their faces hidden behind plastic masks, hands gloved up as if to hide their shaking.
Just wearing the identity of someone better-educated without an ounce of true training.
"I need to be with her," Sevika shouts over the disarray, ignoring the two men — security, supposedly — trying to drag her out.
Your rooms door sits open.
Someone draws blood from your arm.
A young man is shouting into the phone, listing donors in the hopes that someone will answer.
Nothing, yet everything, is blooming in a noisy uproar right in front of Sevika's eyes — ranging from physical clutter, to a failing system build off of long-forgotten dreams.
She's watching it all thrive with a numbness in her chest.
So few of these people actually know what they're doing.
A cry bubbles from her mouth, weak from suspence. "She needs me there!"
No one shouts back.
Not to guide her to the lobby. Not to calm her nerves. Not to soothe her worries like doctors tend to do.
Not even to school her adult-ass out of the building.
wc: 1.6K
summary: You secretly create a vigilante persona, even though your dad forbid it.
warnings: violence, kinda angsty ngl, fluff at the end?
a/n: here again, i've been sick for two weeks, but i feel better now!! hope you enjoy this rare occasion i write some angst
A sharp, high tone rings through your ears after the second hit connects, making your vision blurry for a second. You stumble back but catch yourself just in time, before swinging your twin katana at him. The hit doesn‘t land, although you could swear he was right in front of you just now.
Your breath gets knocked out of your lungs again, registering the pain on your back a moment later. This time, you can‘t stand on your legs anymore, stumbling forward and falling down in a clumsy way. You grunt, trying to take steadying breaths to regain your energy. Nightwing watches you lay on the ground, leaned up slightly on your forearms as you struggle.
It‘s clear you aren‘t experienced in the field, although your attacks are strong. What irks him the most is your sudden appearance. You came from nowhere, interrupted most of his patrols and always managed to ‘accidentally‘ fuck it up. He isn‘t sure who you are or what your intentions are, but it‘s getting on his nerves.
You manage to breath normally again and push yourself up again weakly, sitting up on your knees. Behind, you can hear the knacks of his escrima sticks approaching you slowly. His steps silent and calculated, making you question if he‘s actually moving or not.
»Are you just another wanna-be hero? Do you think this life is that easy?«
He mockingly nudges the tip of one of his sticks on top of your head, making you almost roll your eyes. You stay seated, picking up the twin katan you lost earlier, off the ground. Dick tilts his head at your silence, eyeing the two weapons you have in hands. Without further words, you suddenly turn around and manage to hit his wrist, making his stick fall down. It takes him by surprise, although he recovers quickly, instead pushing you back down with his foot. You grunt, stumbling back again, almost falling on your back.
»Bad choice! You know what these things can do?« He teases, stepping closer to loom over you. You continue to stay quiet, determined to keep your identitiy a secret, even though he is close to finding out. No matter, how many times you interrupted his patrols, you never thought he would actually fight you some day.
»Look at you, can‘t even stand up.« He shakes his head, crossing his arms now. You frown lightly under your mask, trying to regain your last energy. Finally, you pushed yourself up, taking some more steps away. Dick keeps his easy smile, still thinking he can win this fight and finally take you off the streets, since you clearly don‘t know what you‘re doing. He steps in, being slow and taunting.
You roll your shoulders and keep your weapons tightly in your hands, starting to tremble. You don‘t want to fight against your dad. You don‘t want to fight like this.
All you did was make a suit of your own, take the twin katanas your uncle gifted you someday, and sneak out at night to follow your father‘s activities. Even though he made it clear, that his job is dangerous and not safe, you still followed. You still managed to break his only rule.
»You‘re shaking. Scared?« You hear him tease once more, hearing the clear mocking undertone in his voice. With a light shake of your head, you lie silently into his face. Dick lets out a light scoff, not believing you a single bit.
Without giving you a warning, he charges first again, making you stumble back, before you feel a rush of adrenaline. You brace yourself and shield your head with your arms, keeping a tense body. Nightwing doesn‘t need to use a lot of his power, deciding to use his escrima sticks instead. After a short shock, you collapse and let go of your twin kitanas, starting to tremble more.
You don‘t know if it‘s out of panic or pain, but your body starts to shiver, feeling the cold wind bite at your form. Dick huffs out smugly, crouching down in front of you.
»Now let‘s see… who are you really?«
He carefully tilts your head up, gently tearing your clothed face mask up to reveal your whole face.
You keep your eyes shut tight, afraid of the possible consequences. But it‘s too late. He already got rid of the mask and sees his child in front of him. His child, who he just fought against. His body goes still, hand chlenching tightly around the face mask.
»Bug?« His voice comes out as small, almost uncertain. This doesn‘t feel real to him, he tries to blink his eyes open, but he won‘t wake up.
»Honey, bug— sweetheart, is this really you? Why are you here?«
You hear his frantic questions, how he gently tries to make you sit up and looks over you battered form helplessly. You have the strong urge to try and reassure him, but you can‘t get out a single word.
Dick‘s hands start to sweat under his gloves, forcing him to take them off. He gently craddles your face, a whirlwind of emotions running through him; concern, disappointment for you and himself, anger, frustration. All at once, hitting him harder than any hit could‘ve done.
»What were you thinking?« He exhales sharply, eyes searching for any kind of explanation in your eyes. It‘s useless, he fought you, it‘s all his fault. He wasn‘t careful enough, didn‘t give you enough of his attention. Luckily, he pulls himself together, knowing that freaking out won‘t help either of you in this situation.
»Where does it hurt, hm? I‘m gonna fix you up...«
You feel him gently pick you up into his arms, carrying you safely in his arms. It reminds you of all the times when you pretended to be hurt, just so he can carry you around a little. Meanwhile, Dick really hopes he wasn‘t too rough on you earlier. He feels sick to his bones for even taunting you earlier like that. He pauses briefly when you finally speak up, listening intently to your words.
»It doesn‘t hurt as much...« as you think it does, you try to add, but feel too weak to do so. Your father gives you a stern look, before softening his gaze, continuing to carry you somehwere safe, possibly back home.
You get his silence, knowing he is probably trying to keep a cool head while handling this situation. Logically, you stay silent as well, watching him carry you into a safehouse, nearby. He mutters something to Oracle before setting his comms aside, getting back to your side to asses any wounds. You stay seated on the couch, letting him look over your weakened body, hearing him wince once he spots a bruise at your wrist. He remains quiet, the room filling with more uneasy tension.
»Dad, I‘m sorry.«
You croak out finally, hoping to get a reaction. Nothing.
He gently applies pressure on your wrist, making sure nothing is too soft or sore. Finally, once satisfied, he applies a cool cream over it, bandaging it up firmly.
You start to become restless, not used to the silence from his side. He usually talks your ears off or lets you ramble, but it feels wrong to just speak like nothing happened now.
»Dad—«
»Why did you do this?« He interrupts you, eyes staring back into yours. It‘s clear, the regret in his eyes makes you freeze, having trouble understanding the situation at the moment. But before you could answer or give him a weak excuse, his expression softens, shoulders sagging as he exhales.
He takes both of your hands into his, resting his forehead against them.
»I‘m sorry, bird… but— you shouldn‘t have done this. What if someone else tried to fight you? I know you don‘t know how to fight properly, I only showed you how to punch hard, but nothing else; you could‘ve gotten way worse injuries than just a bruise—«
He cuts himself off, realising he is starting to sound even more concerned. You watch him exhale before he stands up, picking up the twin katanas from the floor beside him, looking back at you.
»Did uncle Jason give you these?« You simply nod in response, curling up on the couch to try and feel less anxious about this conversation. Dick exhales tiredly, tucking them into his utility belt, safe out of your reach.
»You and Jay...« He paces around the room as he shakes his head, probably beating himself up over it in his mind. Taking your luck, you speak up again, keeping your eyes glued on his worried form.
»I don‘t feel as hurt, though...« You hope that eases his nerves, but all you get back is a soft scoff, head turning back to you.
»Trying to insult my skills?«
You pause, unsure what to answer. Of course he is joking now. Even now, after almost receiving a heart attack, he manages to be somewhat lighthearted about it. Finally, you get the joke after a moment, shaking your head at him.
The tension slowly leaves the room as he sits down beside you, checking over your bruises one last time before calming down fully. He stays by your side, cuddling you to his side and telling you various stories of his own time as Robin and Nightwing, how many mistakes he made during all those years.
You end up dozing off against his shoulder, the sound of his voice soothing you further. Dick soon notices, making sure to leave patrol up for someone else before he lays you down on the couch, starting to do mindless stuff around the safe house while he keeps an eye on you.
Summary: After the loss of your mother, it feels as if all hope is lost. Fortunately, you’ve been placed in the care of your absentee father. The Wayne name has always been said to come with a few odds and ends that you’d have to get used to, the question is: will you?
A/N: This has actually been in my drafts and in my docs for... at least three years, I know. It's been rewritten at least twice, and I'm finally deciding to put it out there.
I remember that day. I remember exactly where I was when I’d found out. And I remember the moment I met him.
The high-pitched ringing gives permission for us to finally leave the classroom, Mrs. Gurdept’s earlier demand that “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do.” did not divert anyone’s attention from packing up. Backpack already strung across your shoulders, you’re out the door along with everyone else. While your friend Daisha talks about how annoying the classmate is that sits next to her in History, it’s the uniformed men coming your way that catches your attention. It’s the BPD: the Bludhaven Police Department. Parting the sea of students the police officer’s eyes scan the faces of the students passing them. Heart rate rising, you try to keep your eyes on Daisha, determined to look engaged in conversation enough to skate past them without questioning.
“Miss?” One of the officers steps in front of you, blocking your path. Eyes immediately jumping up to his face, you scowl. “Can you answer a few questions for me?” Rumor has it they’re looking for Perdy Chapman, one of the sophmores who supposedly ran away from home once he’d been ousted as a drug runner for Marin’s gang; worst part was… he was funny, nice, and a straight A student. Officer reaching into the pocket on his breast, the white glimpse of a folded paper is barely seen before you respond. There’s no doubt it was some sappy photo of your classmate that you most definitely don’t want to see.
“No, I’m sorry, Officer. We’re late to practice!” Instantly grabbing Daisha’s hand you tug her along behind you, speedwalking toward the exit. She doesn’t question you; most of the kids know by now: never talk to the police. If you haven’t done anything wrong, then there’s no reason to talk to them. They’re all corrupt anyway.
Sitting on top of the cement barriers blocking off the parking lot from the kiss-and-ride line, Daisha playfully smacks your arm. “‘We’re late to practice’? Are you kidding me? You were so fucking quick with that!” A fit of laughter consumes the both of you, the imagined frustrated looks upon the cop’s faces bringing you practically to tears. It takes a while to calm down, the conversation turning into gossip, and eventually into Daisha sharing some of the memes she’d recently seen online.
“Do you think it’s gonna rain?” The question leaves your lips as your eyes watch the dark, ominous clouds roll through the sky. A wet smell of oncoming rain lingers in the air like the humid and hot summer nights in the Carnaveron District.
“Well… if the clouds aren’t an obvious sign, I’d say yes,” she teases. The three short honks are our signal: her mom is here. Jumping off the cement barrier we head over to the spot she’s parked in line, a soft drizzle makes itself known as the drops plunk the roof of the car. Daisha sweeps you into a quick hug before getting into the car, the duo waving goodbye before driving off. Since you don’t live far, it’s easier to walk. It’s the one part of your routine that consistently brings you joy. The breeze and gentle pitter of rain on your skin helps clear your head of all the school drama. Off toward home, you find yourself beginning to get lost in thought about tonight’s homework assignments and what you have to do. It’s only the buzz of the cell phone in your pocket that brings you back to reality. “Auntie?”
“It’s your mother. Get to the hospital as soon as you can. Cuidate, mija.” The dial tone signals the call’s ended. Frozen there on the sidewalk, time doesn’t seem to pass; thunder rumbles in the distance, it’s the only thing that reminds you that time is still moving. It starts to sprinkle rain.
~~~Two Hours Later~~~
Technically you were an orphan… at least that’s what you’d thought. Legally they were mandated to send you to a state-run orphanage. Everyone probably thinks they don’t exist today, and yet, there it was… right in front of you, open and waiting: the gates of purgatory calling your name. Though on the borders of Bludhaven and the streets that lead toward the country part of the state, the building looks like any other. Brown bricks, tall elongated windows; it would look like a ghastly warehouse to you from the outside if you didn’t notice the tricycle on the lawn, or the chalk drawings on the sides of the building and sidewalk leading up to it.
“I have to take this call, excuse me,” the social worker steps away from the black Hatchback Sedan. Lost in your own world, it doesn’t even occur to you to eavesdrop on her call. There’s no possible way that things could get worse than this. Nonetheless, many ‘mhms’ and ‘okay, I understands’ are heard throughout the field adjoining the driveway. The grey clouds finally starting to disperse, it’s quiet out here, the only murmur of your social worker talking and the occasional passing car fill the air. Just as the numbness starts to churn in your stomach at the thought of your Mom, there’s a knocking on the car window.
“Damn!” There’s an exasperated and ludicrous look in her eyes. “Someone’s got one hell of a guardian angel lookin’ out for you, kid. Follow me.” Even if she’s audible through the glass, she doesn’t wait to check as she turns and heads toward the orphanage’s entrance. Though thoughts of running away cross your mind, there’s no logical reason to do so. What’s left out here for me? Nothing.
Once inside of the building you're told to sit tight on one of the wooden benches by the entrance office. Though the social worker chats with the warden, you don't pay them any mind. Their words go in one ear and out the other, your fiddling fingers in your lap far more entertaining as you try and comprehend what the toll of your mother's death will have on the rest of your life. Sixteen, and no longer any semblance of security in any realm of matter toward your future. How did this happen?
It feels as if it's instantaneous, yet the wall on the clock shows over half an hour has passed. Doors creak open with the cool ocean-ladened post-rain wind, an older man closes the umbrella he'd been holding over the younger-looking man who strides into the building with a sort of conviction that only exists through the air it permeates. They both are adorned in long trench coats and sunglasses, though the younger wears a black hat.
"Lisa! I assume this is her," the broad man addresses your social worker before turning his gaze down toward you. With the click of the door's lock as it seals shut, all noise diminishes in the halls of the orphanage aside from the faint echo of children's laughter in the distance. The building instantly warms by a few degrees and the men take off their sunglasses, pocketing them. Mouth subconsciously falling agape, you recognize one of them. The man standing before you is one you've only seen all your life on billboards, television, and in magazines: Bruce Wayne. He crouches to your eye-level.
"Yes, this is-" Lisa, the name of the woman you'd only known as your social worker, begins to introduce you. What follows truly feels like some sort of grief-stricken concoction of fantasy, and though it might be dangerous, you follow it.
It isn’t until the car pulls up to the massive and ornate double doors that you snap out of it. “This isn’t a joke?” He must be tired of it: this most likely being the fifteenth time you’ve asked such a thing in the last hour.
“No. It’s not,” while one might pick up on the disappointed tone in his voice, Bruce Wayne offers a small, sympathetic smile. His hand gently comes to rest on your shoulder, leading you out of the clean, sleek Rolls Royce.
“It’s a pleasure, Miss,” the elderly man states your name in a titular way. Taken aback, he hardly registers in your mind. Too many thoughts and emotions consume you, leaving nothing but a rapidly beating heart and a million questions tucked inside the body of a young girl. The fields had turn back into factories, factories into skyscrapers, skyscrapers into trees, and by then you’d finally come onto the property. In the dark there wasn’t much to take in; light illuminating windows upon rows of windows that span so far you wonder for a moment if they ever stop. Yet the edge of the mansion can be spotted from your place by the door, too weary to step inside.
"Are you coming?" Bruce Wayne, himself, asks you.
"I'm afraid if you stand out there all night you'll catch a cold," the older gentleman, whom you've already forgotten the name of, warns.
"That reminds me, Alfred, please go set up a bath for her. I'll take her upstairs," Bruce delegates. Though you wouldn't know it for months, he decided to give you a moment. Waiting at the door, he remembers the hours and days that followed his own parents' death. He's well aware that this is undoubtedly a big moment for you, if not the biggest in your lifetime, and thus, a little patience won't hurt.
"This is..." you can barely even come up with a sentence, let alone a string of thoughts as you take in the palace before you.
"-your new home? Yes." He finishes the thought for you.
Summary - After the events of the incident at school Wanda takes you on a date, marking the start of something new.
Warnings - Nervousness and first date anxiety. Nothing else that I can’t think of.
Authors note - A little follow up to this I wrote a while back.
Word count - 2.1k
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“Mom, does this look good?”
It was your first date with Wanda and you were panicking about what to wear. It was only a simple picnic in the park but you still wanted to make an effort.
“You look good in everything sweetheart”
“I’m serious. I don’t want to look stupid or anything”
You’d opted for a mid length pale green tea dress adorned with tiny white flowers, black hightop converse and a pair of sunglasses atop your head. Their role was mainly just to push the hair out of your face. Simple enough.
She gave you a once over. Her eyes flitted across your standing form as she determined whether she thought the outfit was A. Appropriate and B. Up to scratch for your outing.
“I like it, but will you not get cold if your arms aren’t covered? I don’t want you getting sick”
“It’s not that cold” her eyebrows shot up in a slight warning. Her suggestion for extra layers not merely because she thought you could catch a chill. “I’ll take a jacket. But other than that, good?”
“Other than that, perfect”
“You’ll think she’ll like it?”
Natasha stood from her spot on the couch to stand in front of you. Her arms found your shoulders and a wash of calm blanketed over you instantly at her touch.
“I think she’d like it if you turned up in a trash bag. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Like you’re the only person in the world. What you wear won’t change the fact she’s completely head over heels for you”
Your cheeks heated slightly at the thought of being so highly regarded by anyone, let alone Wanda. Was it normal to like somebody so much at the ripe old age of seventeen?
Before you could be subject to more potential internal embarrassment, you stepped back from your mothers touch and cleared your throat.
“Well I’m going to wait outside. She should be here soon and I don’t want to keep her waiting”
Natasha notices the hurriedness of your words. She knew you were nervous so she chose to not wish you good luck but hoped for you to have fun instead. And with a glance back, you retread out of the front door with a slight skip to your step and a small wave.
-
Wanda arrived in her very posh, freshly washed red 2019 Nissan Altima at 1:30pm on the dot.
You’ve been in her car several times since it was generously gifted to her as a seventeenth birthday present by her parents a few months before. But as it pulled up in the early afternoon light with the intention of it taking you to the destination of your first date with the driver, it looked new all over again.
You stood from where you had perched yourself on the top step of your porch, and nervously scurried down the garden path towards the vehicle. By the time you’d reached the front gate, Wanda had already stepped out from the driver's side and was making her way around the car.
God she was pretty. Her auburn hair practically shone in the sunlight. With each small breeze, strands of hair fluttered and waved like the wings of a butterfly. Her choice of clothing was much like her daily attire, but you could tell she’d made an effort too.
A light grey crop top covered her torso, whilst a black skater skirt brushed her thighs. Both paired with knee high black socks and lace up combat boots the same colour. You always loved her style.
As she strode over to meet you, only now have you realised she’s a few inches taller. Something you didn’t seem to notice before today. As she stood in front of you, her green eyes focusing on your lips, your eyes, your hair, you couldn’t help but think that it seems like this is the first time you’ve really seen her.
Your thoughts were halted by a gentle kiss to your cheek. A greeting you weren’t expecting. Your cheeks flushed once more.
“Hey” Wanda said, a small smile on her face as she backed away from you a few inches.
“Hey back”
“You look nice”
“You look nice too. I like your socks. Do these ones have holes in them aswell?”
“No” a quiet chuckle left Wanda’s lips, “I save these ones for special occasions”
There was an awkward pause. Why could you not bring yourself to speak? It’s not like you don’t know the girl, she’s your best friend.
“Shall we get in the car? The cooler can only save us for so long”
Before you even had the chance to answer she grabbed your hand and guided you to the passenger side of the car. Once there she opened the door for you with a confident pull and closed it behind you with a gentle thud once you settled yourself in the seat.
In the few seconds you were alone, all you could hear was the beat of your heart in your ears. You really needed to get a grip. Maybe it was best to think about it as an afternoon hanging out with a friend other than a date with your crush? Yeah that might help.
The opening and closing of the driver's side car made you jump a little.
“Ready to go?” She asked as she put her seatbelt on and readied herself to get going.
“As ready as I’ll ever be”
-
The park wasn’t as busy as you’d expected it to be on a weekend afternoon. Something you were grateful for. You didn’t feel like having to keep an eye out for out flying toys or unleaded animals. You had enough to think about right now.
Wanda had decided on the spot to lay the blanket down. A shaded area underneath a large oak tree, not too far from the lake. It was perfect.
You watched patiently as Wanda pulled each item out of the picnic basket. An assortment of foods such as cheeses, cold meats, breads and fruits delicately placed on the blanket in turn.
“I didn’t know what you would like so I decided on everything. I hope that’s okay?”
“It’s more than okay. It all looks great” you said as you rested your back against the rough bark of the tree trunk. “How’s your lip” you asked suddenly causing Wanda to turn to you with a confused look. “From last week” you clarified.
“Oh, yeah, that. It’s almost better, still a little bruised but nothing I can’t cope with. How are you feeling?”
“Better. My mom went back the next day and gave their parents a piece of her mind. I think one of them is transferring to a different school”
“Good. I’m glad. Urm, do you want a drink? I’ve got orange soda or grape. Or I’ve got some bottled water in the car if you’d prefer those?”
“Orange is good, thank you”
Wanda leant into the cooler and pulled out a large bottle of fizzy orange liquid. The cool plastic instantly fogged up as it hit the warm air.
“I’m happy your mom said yes to me asking you on a date. Not like it’s mandatory to ask the parents but you know, it’s nice she’s agreed to this”, Wanda waved her hand around her face indicating your surroundings to get her point across.
“You asked my mom?”
The wide eyes you received at your question told you she thought you knew.
“Ah yeah. After the meeting about the, you know, the fight and stuff”
“She never told me. Looks like you snitched on yourself Maximoff” you couldn’t help but smirk and the relief that washed over her face when you lightened the mood a little.
“Maybe I did, but I’m still happy she said yes. I know she’s not a massive fan of me but I’m willing to do better”
“If it’s any consolation, I like you just the way you are,” you said from behind the lip of the plastic cup your soda was poured into.
“Well that’s all that matters then isn’t it?”
A few moments passed where the two of you just sat and ate your food in silence. It was nice to take in your surroundings, but you couldn’t help but notice a niggling sense of longing.
So you decided to do something about it. You turned on the blanket to fully face Wanda, leant up on your knees and extended your hand out in front of you.
Wanda just looked up at you in utter confusion. Her brows creased as her eyes searched yours for an answer.
“Hi, I’m Y/N”
“I am extremely confused right now”
“I feel like we’re too much in our own heads about this. We were friends, we are friends. We shouldn’t have to act differently around each other just because this is a date. So I’m reintroducing myself. Starting fresh. So, I’m Y/N” you held your hand out again, but this time Wanda grabbed it.
“Hi Y/N, I’m Wanda. It’s nice to meet you”
The rest of the date went smoother than you could’ve hoped for.
-
The drive back home was nice. You had your window rolled down so the evening air caressed your face as Wanda drove down the quiet streets of your neighbourhood. You chanced a look at her every now and again. You could get used to her driving you around.
Another few minutes went by and you found yourself stood back on the top step of your porch. Wanda on the next step down, now making you slightly taller than her.
“I had fun” you stated.
“So did I. Did I tell you I liked your dress?”
“Yeah, you did”
“Oh, well it’s nice”
“Wanda”, you started and she looked up at you with those big green eyes again. “You don’t need to try so hard. I already really like you so there’s no need to impress me”
“You like me?” Her cheeky smirk almost made you regret saying that out loud.
“Of course I like you, how couldn’t I? You’re smart and and pretty and you make me laugh”
It was true. She was all of those things.
“Does that mean you’ll go on another date with me then?”
“If you ask me properly then I might” you quipped back at her.
“Do you wa-“
“I’m joking, of course I’ll go on another date with you”
Her smile met her eyes. Her apparent anxiety swiftly washed away with one sentence.
“As much as I don’t want this to end, you better get going. It’s getting dark and I’m pretty sure my mom is watching us through the gap in the curtains”
“Do I not get a kiss goodnight?”
“Don’t push your luck Maximoff” you scolded. Though you weren’t annoyed. Not really.
You leant forward slightly and placed a kiss on her cheek. The same as what she did to you earlier. It was small, innocent. But the promise behind it meant so much more.
“Now go, before my mother comes out and beats your ass for outstaying your welcome”. All she could do was hold up her hands and turn to walk back towards her car.
You stayed on your spot until her car was only a speck in the distance and your arm hurt from waving goodbye. You felt like you were floating. You didn’t know it was possible to miss someone’s company after being away from them for only a few minutes.
You tried to enter the house quietly. It wasn’t late but you still didn’t want to disturb whatever your mother was doing with you being loud. But as you closed the door, she rounded the corner from the kitchen with a smirk and a mischievous look in her eye.
“You were watching werent you?”
“Not on purpose. I heard a car pull up so I checked to see who it was and I saw you kissing Wanda”
You rolled your eyes as you untied your shoes. “I wasn’t kissing Wanda. It was a thank you peck on the cheek for a wonderful time. Nothing more, nothing less”
“Well the way you kept your eyes on her the whole time she drove up the street didn’t seem like it was nothing. You’re smitten”
“Ugh I’m not smitten. Can we not talk about this”
All Natasha could do was lean against the wall of the hallway and watch you with pride. Her baby, all grown up, going on dates and falling in love.
“Before you ask, yes. I said I’d go on another date with her. And no I don’t want to talk about it with you right now” you stood up from placing your shoes in the shoe rack by the door, and flattened out the creases of your dress with the palms of your hands. “So, are you just going to stand there staring at me or are we going to order takeout and watch trashy tv?”
FNaF 1 gang with a platonic relationship with a teen girl?
𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 (𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂!𝐅𝐍𝐀𝐅 𝟏)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Didn’t expect this, did you? To be completely fair, I didn’t really expect it either. This probably won’t be a regular thing, but I decided to try to at least write one of the requests.
You were a teenager who often enjoyed visiting your favorite childhood pizzeria - Fazbear’s. It filled your heart with bliss, watching all the young children laughing happily as they chased each other around, played on the machines, or listened to the animatronic band.
And it was absolutely your luck that a listing had happened to come out for a job at Fazbear’s; the infamous night shift. The shady restaurant chain decided to hire a teenager, despite the obvious implications of becoming even more liable for the death of a minor.
Was it even luckier for the restaurant that the animatronics were very... selective on their prey?
Freddy Fazbear
The first animatronic to realize that you were not an adult, but rather a teenager.
Despite the fact that you were on the edge of adulthood, the guilty feeling inside his gut decided to spare you instead.
It was harder for him to communicate with you in his animatronic form, forcing him to have to shift to his more human form.
Automatically told the other animatronics not to mess with you.
Especially more unstable ones like Foxy.
He ordered you not to quit and not come back to the restaurant.
As the idiot (jk, you’re not) that you are, curiosity decided to lead you back to the graveyard shift once again.
He was annoyed but ended up enjoying your company.
If you continued to work at the company, he’d probably become a parental-type figure.
Makes sure that you’re drinking water, doing good in school, and taking care of your mental health.
Will absolutely have you sleep on shift (literally would’ve been the best shift to normally sleep on if you didn’t have murderous animatronics there, but whatever).
If you continue the job into adulthood, still will not attack you since he’s pretty much confirmed that you’re a decent person.
10/10 Friendship
Bonnie the Bunny
Chaotic besties.
You both will literally throw so many pranks around the restaurant.
It will be like Bonnie had a doppelganger.
He acts very similarly to your age, so he feels more like an older brother/best friend than a parent.
There’s the possibility that he’d be interested in teenage trends of the modern-day: bands, shows, movies.
One of the best people to have a movie night with, guarantee it.
He will abso-fucking-lutely teach you guitar.
Would be ecstatic if you asked.
Not very good with any kind of life advice though.
Totally would fight for you, but isn’t really the type to give appropriate advice besides - “why don’t you punch them in the face?”
Not necessarily overprotective or anything, but he definitely has your back if some of your bullies ever come to the restaurant or something.
Just imagine an animatronic coming up behind you and going - “talking shit?”
You’d never be bullied again.
Chica the Chicken
She is literally like your sister.
Like, I swear to God.
Will absolutely bake you sweets or cook pizza for you every night without fail.
You’ve got it made.
Would be so excited if you decided to make it with her.
If you identify as female, would definitely have girl talk with you.
Especially since she’s the only girl out of four boys.
She’d probably join into your movie nights with Bonnie.
Like can we just talk about how you guys would be the absolute best trio in the entire pizzeria?
Iconic.
Now she is definitely someone I could see as becoming a bit overprotective.
If you’re having a bad day, Mama-Bear mode instantly activates.
The doting kind that’ll bring you food, kiss your cheeks, and rub your tears away as you vent.
The best kind.
She’s very clingy to you, and absolutely hates whenever you leave the pizzeria. Sometimes she tries to convince you to hide, but Freddy usually intervenes and forces her to let you go.
She loves you (platonically) a lot, so treat her with care.
Foxy the Pirate Fox
It’s going to be very hard for him to open up to you at first.
You’d probably have to have the trust of Bonnie and Chica before you get anywhere near having a friendship with Foxy.
But when you do establish a connection, you’re friendship is one of the richest ones that there is.
There can be silence between the both of you, but you absolutely know what each other are thinking.
You spend hours exchanging stories with one another, both fake and real, providing lots of entertainment.
Sometimes you just lay on some spare cloth in the back of Pirate’s Cove, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars as you both contemplate over different things.
Your introduction into the pizzeria causes him to start communicating with some of the others, just a little more.
You’ll spot him having small talk with Bonnie or Chica more often, which causes your heart to melt with happiness.
Is the most overprotective of animatronics.
Would actually murder someone for the smallest inconvenience.
He’s a little unstable.
This is why it is important for you to be able to intervene.
It’s not that hard, one pout and he’ll back down - begrudgingly.
Golden Freddy
It will be extremely rare that you ever come into contact with Golden Freddy.
He’d have a watchful eye on you, sure, but he wouldn’t ever talk to you unless absolutely necessary.
But one day, you come across a room in the back. His room.
Freddy would have to step in to make sure that Golden Freddy doesn’t murder you, but he’s actually quite chill.
The other animatronics didn’t know how he’d react to them being friends with a human, but he honestly doesn’t care that much.
Now becoming friends with him is another story.
I could see maybe forming some semblance of an acquaintanceship from discussions of the pizzeria’s former glory.
Perhaps you remember the days when he used to perform.
It wouldn’t be rare that the two of you could be seen making small talk, but he’s not going to join in on your activities with the others.
He does have a certain lonely aura around him.
So you often will seek him out to participate in something more his style.
Card games, board games, etc.
Your friendship would become a simple one, but it’d be nice.
He isn’t protective of you, but can easily step in during the daytime if something happens in the pizzeria.
He trusts your intelligence, but sometimes keeps an eye on you just in case something happens.
In summary, you now have a large family of animatronics that pretty much adore you, and will continue to adore you till the end of your time. Will it end naturally? That’s up for debate ;)
Imagine that Beloved still reincarnated as Reader, but instead of being Luz's godparent, they were someone her age who lived nearby and was also going to camp. Plenty of chances for Belos to be a creep, methinks.
And ended up with her in the Boiling Isles... interesting B<
Belos would be a creep but not THAT kind of creep (because I refuse to write for THAT kind of creep, we keep boundaries here. I already want to tear his throat out for what he's already done.).
Belos will only see you as a child but will not hesitate on trying to indoctrinate you into his way of thinking regardless if he believes you are Beloved or not. He will refuse to try anything with a child. You are innocent in his eyes and need to be protected in his twisted sense.
Actually, he's probably more panicked seeing you in the Boiling Isles, just like he may have been with Luz at first. He's trying to do everything he can to get you to agree to stay at the castle. He wonders if you even are Beloved and he's just mistaking a couple of traits for it. Surely, Beloved wouldn't come back to him so young? He's terrified because he doesn't know what this means, that you need to be protected regardless. You are human.
What most likely happened is you and Luz got separated when Eda grabbed her and ran and you got taken to the Conformatorium. Word spreads fast that you're human and Belos' savior complex orders that you be brought to him immediately. Upon seeing you, he nearly drops his staff. When he speaks with you alone, he sees how scared you are and he plays on that, showing you his face to help calm you down. He tells you you're safe from the real horrors of the Isles and he intends to keep it that way to make you see him as your protector. It works.
He is greatly aware of the age difference here as opposed to if you were an adult and doesn't want to scare you away. Instead of parental mode, he opts to be seen and called "your mentor". You are to have your hood up at all times when around the castle and are given a silver mask to wear to hide your face. You are never to leave the castle without Belos or his okay to do so.
He finds out what your current fantasies are and plays on them to keep you with him, leaning into the "Chosen One" trope hard before you're primed to accept his line of thinking. You and Luz may not have been friends, but you two share the same ideas for fantasy worlds. Maybe the two of you were off each other's radars or you were homeschooled? Either way, you met her that day so you didn't get a chance to know her.
Whatever happens, Hunter is highly jealous of you and doesn't understand why Belos has taken an interest in you... until the memories come back... And then Hunter realizes what Belos is trying to do with you.
Almost immediately, Darius becomes protective over you since he does not trust Belos. After catching a glimpse of Belos calmly caressing your cheek with the back of his hand, he becomes scared that Belos may actually cross a line (He won't). Darius goes to your room and leaves a small abomination hidden on top of your wardrobe so he can keep an eye on you. Should Belos try anything, the abomination would grow and hold him off until Darius could get to you. Other than that, he's cold toward you to keep up appearances but he tells Hunter to back off when he starts arguing with you for the sake of arguing.
Part of Belos sees you as a child he and Beloved would have had because of how much you look like them. The other part knows that you have years of growing to do before he can continue with the agreement. Either way, he's going to make sure you absolutely adore him before taking you back to the human realm.
However, before the Day of Unity, right after Hollow Mind, Darius kidnaps you and keeps you at the rebel hideout which enrages Belos. Darius and Raine begin to deprogram everything Belos had you believe while you were at the castle.
Either way, it's him pretty much being ????????????????????????!? when it comes to a very young Beloved. He even wonders how different you'll turn out because of his intervention, scared that you won't be anything like Beloved which is why he feels a great need to get you back where you belong so everything could happen naturally, whenever it happens.
