{On hold} The streets (Weak hero x reader)

My life up until now

My name's Y/n L/n, and let's start at the beginning. When I was about 5-6 months old my parents decided to leave me on the streets to die.

Why? You ask, because they didn't want a one armed child like me. I know your asking, why not take her to an orphanage, well the answer is that they just didn't care enough to.

Luckily for me I was then taken in by a stern and strict man who was also homeless, he raised me making sure I knew how to defend myself.

It was never easy to learn with him though, he would use all kinds of weapons guns, knives, poles basically anything we could get our hands on and he wouldn't go easy I would earn at least 7-8 new scars every day,

it was normal for me to fight with one hand, since I practically grew up with it, and got along.

I wasn't saying it was easier; just normal, he raised me to be cruel and cunning. Even though we were on the streets he always gave me the most shelter, food, and tried to provide for me, and make sure I am in good shape academically, we had each other and that was fine.....until he got sick.

Being on the streets, it can concoct different sicknesses I was only seven; I was only seven when he died. Even on his deathbed he wanted me to know his will,

~Flashback~
"Y/n, *cough *cough, this.... this is my last wish from you. I want you to live a normal life, not one on the streets. I managed to convince an old friend, *cough to enroll you in school when you reach the age to go to high school.

He only agreed if it was ONLY high school, and he can't take care of you since he can barely take care of himself I'm afraid, so I want you to take care of yourself *cough *cough.

I don't have much time left. Don't you dare cry; I don't want to see any tears, take care of yourself kid." "I won't shed any tears old man, I'll miss you and I'll make sure to stay alive too, Rest In Peace."

~End of flashback~
*sigh and just like that, my only caretaker was gone. I was left to look after myself on the streets. I started street fighting at age ten at first it was against thirteen year olds and younger, but it was too easy.

I guess the old man's training didn't go to waste. At age 11 I wanted high pain tolerance, so I started doing reckless things and asking others to torture me all the time to make sure I couldn't feel a thing in the future.

My plan worked, I stopped feeling pain at age 13, all the fights, broken bones, and torture really helped me adapt.

I didn't care, if I had to become a robot to survive on the streets, I would do whatever it took to survive.

By age fourteen I started the real deal kind of fighting, like the kind that you put your life on the risk for kind of fights mostly for money.

Street fights don't really contain any type of rule, you can use a weapon if you'd like, but I wanted to train myself to be way better, so I never fought with a weapon.

I would always have a cigarette with me and every time I'd win I left a signature cigarette mark on the loser, of course I have never lost because my body is a weapon, and I can only be strong.

when I fight I'm like a different person when I don't fight I'm usually calm and normal, but once I land the first hit I become a psycho, like crazy joker psycho that's why people don't fight me anymore.

I always have to move to different streets to fight because of that, which is fine with me, and I practically own, and grow up on these streets.

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The chapters will get longer this chapter was just background about Y/n. Please tell me about any errors and I'll make sure to fix them. Anyway, thank you for reading.

Posted:1/14/21