Lovely ;; Various!BNHA x Reader

000 ;; prologue.

Why does any cop eat their gun?

It was a question that you constantly asked yourself, in hopes that you could give yourself a little closer on why exactly your father had willingly succumbed to death by his own hands. You never managed to give yourself a proper conclusion, though, and your Uncle would only respond with vague answers whenever you asked him about it.

You were only two years old when the incident occurred, yet you could recall is so vividly that it was like it only happened a moment ago.

While you were taking a nap inside of your father's apartment, you were awoken to a sharp bang that reverberated off of the walls. You quickly jolted awake, startled by the suddenness of it all. You hesitantly moved off of the sofa, looking around with bewildered eyes.

You crept into the kitchen and there was your father, a gun in his hand and a bullet wound in his head. Since you were far too young to genuinely understand the event, you slowly walked up to him with puzzlement. In his other hand was a piece of paper that you stared at with piqued curiosity.

Taking it from his hand, you inspected it, but the words were simple gibberish in your two-year-old mind, so you placed it on the floor next to him and patted it down securely so it was unable to move away. Then, you began to slap your father's chest, telling him to wake up.

Of course, he didn't respond.

Someone then began to frantically pound on the door, causing you to curiously tilt you head at the sudden sounds erupting from the entryway.

"Hello?! [Surname]?! I-I heard a gunshot from my apartment next door and I just want to know if you're okay?! I know there's a baby in there so please just let me know if everything's alright or else I'll have to call the authorities!"

You slowly rose to your feet and cautiously walked over to the door. You stared at it for a couple of seconds before bringing your hand down to slam onto it, followed by some babbled nonsense from your little voice, telling the person to quiet down.

A breath of relief sounded from the panicked person on the other side, her worries slowly dwindling knowing that you were alright. "[Name], was it? Where's your daddy, is he okay?" the woman called from behind the door.

"Uh.. no!" you responded back before you thought of your next words. "Papa is.. sleeping! So quiet! Shh!"

"Sleeping..?" the woman muttered before a small gasp left her throat. "Honey, can you open the door for me, please? I'm going to have some friends come in there to wake him up."

You glanced up at the locks, scrunching up your face when you realized that they were high up and you would have to put in some work if you were to reach them. Standing on your tippy-toes, you extended your arm out as far as you could and turned the lock of the door, allowing the woman entrance inside of the apartment.

As soon as she heard the lock click, she gently opened the door as to not accidentally hit you with it. Then, once she took notice of your bloodied hands, she immediately scooped you up into her arms with a worried expression. After she had you settled securely in her hold with one arm, she used her vacant hand to fish out her phone and called the proper authorities.

It only took a little while for the police to arrive, some of them you recognized since they were comrades of your father. The woman held onto you all the while, never letting you down as a paramedic inspected your body for any potential wounds.

"She's alright," they informed. "The blood obviously isn't hers and she has no signs of any injuries. She just needs to be cleaned up, is all."

Before the paramedics brought your father out of the apartment on a stretcher, one of the police officers asked the woman for her name and if she were able to take you in for a little bit while they searched for your next of kin.