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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Off Limits

Gynecologist Mark X Reader

Word Count: 7.6K

Genre: Angst, fluff, badly written smut (the whole shabang)

Warnings: Fingering, hand job, oral (female receiving) doctor & patient relationship (honestly I was very hesitant on writing something like this (BUT I’VE SEEN KINKIER SHIT ON HERE SO YOLO)

Summary: You’ve been having pelvic pains and after voicing your concerns to your mom, she recommends that you go and see a gynecologist. It’s in that moment when you find out that your childhood crush Mark Tuan is the doctor she is referring to and before you could object, she ends up making you an appointment. Seeing Mark for the first time since he went away for college sends butterflies to your tummy and you don’t think you’ll be able to last through the entire appointment knowing what he is going to have to do to you. You discover that Mark harbors the same feelings you’ve had for him for the entirety of knowing him and little do you know, you are the reason for the fall out of his friendship with your brother.

A/N: Hey guys, I really don’t know where this idea came from and I’m honestly kind of all over the place with the idea of this BUT WHATEVER I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable but IDK it’s probably my hoe ass fantasies getting the best of me please enjoy (I also was kind of lazy to go in to depth about the smut so sorry about that)

When you walked in to the doctor’s office, you were immediately greeted by the receptionist at the counter as she asked you for your name and time of your appointment. Since you were a new patient, she handed you some paperwork to fill out and informed you that she would call you when it was your time to go in. As you took a seat and began filling out the forms, you couldn’t help but secretly wish your mom went with you to your appointment.

Sometimes you’d forget you were 23-years-old with the way your mom still had to schedule your appointments and there were times that she’d be in the office with you and even talked to your doctor for you. Right now, as you continued to insert your information, you wanted nothing more than for her to be with you, especially because the doctor you were seeing just so happened to be the same person you’ve had a crush on since you were 7-years-old.

Just a few days ago, you called your mom after you finished work and complained about having a dull pain in what you assumed was your ovaries. Being the irresponsible person you were, you hardly ever went to visit your gynecologist which both upset and worried your mom, especially because of the many different diseases and syndromes there were in women’s private areas. After scolding you for being a procrastinator and waiting till something was wrong with you to actually go and get checked up, it was in that moment that she recommended you go and see Mark Tuan.

Mark Tuan was your older brother’s best friend since elementary school. The two of them were practically two peas in a pod. Wherever one went, the other followed. Whatever sport one joined, so did the other. They were just that close; that meant you saw Mark almost every single day.

When you were younger, he would always jokingly bully you; but deep down you knew his playful antics were all in good fun. He would always try to keep you out of your brother’s room as they played video games, steal the last cookie in the cookie jar since you weren’t able to reach it and made fun of the fact that you owned so many stuffed animals.

It was in those moments of teasing that you developed a hatred for the older boy. Whenever he came over, you’d never acknowledge his presence and pretended he never existed. Even at dinner if he were to stay over, you found yourself sitting as far away from him as possible. The longer you held a grudge on him and stayed away from him, the more you realized that you didn’t hate him. No, you were developing a crush on him. But you were too young to even know what feelings were and when you explained what you felt about him to your mom, she thought it was adorable and told you it was puppy love.

However, as you grew older, your feelings for Mark grew deeper and deeper more and more every day. Whenever he laughed or smiled, your heart felt as if it were about to burst from out of your chest. Since he was five years older than you and because he was your brother’s best friend, you pushed the idea of him reciprocating your same feelings to the back of your mind. You never failed to notice how his facial features and even his body grew more defined as the years went on and it only made things harder for you.

You’d have to come up with excuses not to be around him because you’d act like a complete idiot if he was around and the last thing you needed was for anyone, Mark especially to find out that you liked him. Unfortunately, in your senior year of high school, Mark graduated with his bachelor’s degree in psychology and got accepted in to one of the most prestigious medicinal colleges in the country. From the time you met him, Mark made it known that he wanted to be a doctor of some sort.

He always loved helping people and wanted to give back to his community in any way that he could. It was one of the main reasons why you liked him so much and although you were going to miss him, you know his absence was going to be a good thing. You needed to get over him and this was the only way possible.

Your senior year came and went and before you knew it, you were applying to many different colleges all over the world. You ended up moving to New York and attended NYU with the intent of getting your degree in education. Just like Mark, you loved being able to lend a hand to anyone who needed it and the idea of being able to enhance and teach the little minds of children always sent a smile to your face.

As soon as you graduated, you returned back to your hometown with the thought of teaching at your old elementary school. You haven’t talked to or heard from Mark since he left all those years ago, but your mom never failed to update you on his achievements and the fact that he was now a very well known gynecologist. You felt childish when you found yourself cringing and squirming at the idea of Mark having to possibly look at you down there, especially because you’ve daydreamed about being intimate with him every now and then.

He was a gynecologist, it was his job to make sure everything was okay in your vaginal region, so why were your hands clammy and why were you so nervous at the idea of him having to observe your lady parts? Not too long after filling out all of your papers and handing them back to the receptionist, she called you over and had you follow her in to one of the rooms.

“Okay y/n, what brings you here today? Is it just a regular check up or is there something bothering you?” You scratched the back of your neck in embarrassment at the actual reason for your visit before speaking up.

“I—um—I’ve been having pains uh—down there. It’s not so much painful as it is uncomfortable but it does bother me and my mom wanted to make sure nothing is wrong with me.” She nodded in understanding while writing down everything you were telling her. After a few moments, she handed you a hospital gown and told you to remove everything and let you know that Mark was going to come in soon. You’ve seen a gynecologist a few times back in college, but this was the first time seeing one after returning home and you knew you should’ve went and looked for someone else. Who cares if Mark was highly recommended and if he was good? He was like an older brother to you.

Although, you noticed he began to grow distant towards you right before he left and it pained you that he was no longer the happy go lucky pain in the ass that he always was towards you almost your entire life. While you were away at college, you also learned that he and your brother had a little fall out and you believed it was because they went their separate ways and neither of them had time to keep in touch.

The idea of him practically seeing you naked in an environment like this made you extremely uncomfortable and you almost found yourself running out of the entire office completely. You were an adult, you had to suck it up and just deal with the fact that Mark was your new gynecologist.

Changing out of your clothes felt extremely awkward and you felt so vulnerable knowing you were entirely naked under the hospital gown. You knew Mark had to be professional in an occupation like this and you were sure he’s seen quite a few vaginas in his career, so it didn’t matter that the two of you knew each other. You were going to try your best to look at him as your doctor and not the boy who helped teach you how to ride a skateboard so you could make it to your classes on time back in your freshman year.

The soft knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts and as soon as your eyes landed on him, your breath hitched. It’s been almost four years since you’ve seen him and you didn’t think it was possible knowing how handsome he always was, but he became even more gorgeous. Seeing him in a doctor’s coat with a dress shirt, slacks and a tie you recognized that your family bought for him when he first entered college made your head spin. How could someone be this good looking? It wasn’t fair and the toothy grin he was sending your way sent tingles down your spine.

“Hey stranger. How’ve you been? I had to do a double take when I saw your name on my upcoming appointment list. You look great y/n. And I heard you’re a teacher now, congratulations.” You felt as if someone had a hold on your tongue. His compliment made you freeze and you felt so small under his gaze. Why did your mom force you in to making him your new gynecologist and why didn’t you disagree with her? This was going to be a long day.

“I—hi. I’ve been good. Thank you for asking. Yeah, I just started teaching kindergarten a few months ago and I love it so far. Congratulations on opening your own practice although, I can’t say I’m not surprised. You were always so hard working and went after everything you set your mind to.” For someone who was about to turn 28-years-old, his adorable high pitch laughter never changed and it sent warmth to your cheeks. His laugh had to be one of your favorite sounds in the entire world.

Mark was always soft spoken and shy around those he didn’t know all too well but you knew the real Mark and it seemed like he was always laughing whenever he was at your house. There were a few occasions where you made him laugh and it tugged on your heartstrings knowing you were the reason behind such a beautiful sound. You would listen to him laugh all day if you could.

“Yeah, shit was rough but I guess it was worth it. I’ll be honest with you, gynecology was the last field I’d find myself in but the doctor I was studying under recommended it and claimed it wasn’t as cutthroat of a profession as other medical occupations. I’ve delivered a couple of babies and that was pretty cool. I kinda was hoping to go in to pediatrics like Jinyoung, but he always complains about it every now and then but then again, he wasn’t always fond of kids. Ah, I’m blabbering like I always used to—Erica said you’ve been having pains down there. How long has it been going on for?” You began to think about when the pains first started happening and shrugged indifferently.

“Almost a month ago but I didn’t think anything of it. I guess I assumed it had to deal with my period but I’ve had these pains even after my cycle was over.” You were quick to notice how Mark’s eyes never left yours once since he entered the room. He has always been like that since you were kids. Even if he was quite the jokester, whenever you’d talk to him his eyes were constantly looking you over; giving you his full attention. You’d find yourself fumbling your words knowing that he always had his gaze on you and it never seemed to falter. When you heard a soft chuckle fall from his lips, you raised one of your brows and looked at him in curiosity.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just—you haven’t changed one bit. You were always the procrastinator. Especially whenever it comes to your health and well-being. Remember when you were riding your bike, went over a speed bump, fell off and scraped your knee? Instead of running in the house to go clean it, you took a picture and posted it on Instagram.”

You found yourself laughing along with him when you remembered the exact memory he was referring to. You had just turned 14 at the time and wanting to impress Mark, you decided to try out some tricks that you saw on YouTube. He was a just starting college around that time, and being the delusional little girl you were thinking that maybe one day there could be something between the two of you, you wanted to show him that you were mature enough for him.

However, your plans went to shit the minute you fell off of your bike but instead of crying like you knew you probably would have if you were younger, you took out your phone and snapped a picture of the huge gash on your knee. Mark didn’t hesitate to run over to you the minute you tipped over and politely scolded you before ripping off a piece of his flannel and wrapping it around the wound as a makeshift bandage. That memory was one of your favorites with Mark. He showed genuine concern and worry for you and it made you smile like an idiot knowing he cared about you.

“I know. I should take better care of myself. I’ll try better.” He nodded in agreement before taking a look at his clipboard and returning his attention back to you.

“Okay y/n, this is the part where it’ll probably get weird knowing our history together, but I have to ask these questions as your gynecologist.” From past experiences at the gynecologist office, you knew exactly what questions he was referring to and you took in a deep breath while allowing him to continue.

“Do you drink or smoke?” You shook your head in disagreement. Mark and your brother were party animals. Your parents had to pick them up every now and then from parties because they got too drunk and couldn’t find their own way home. You on the other hand didn’t find the point in getting drunk nor did you want to ruin your lungs over something so unnecessary such as smoking.

“Do you have regular periods?”

“I think so.”

“Are you pregnant or think there’s a chance you are pregnant?”

“No.”

“Are you sexually active?” You knew the question was coming and you dreaded it. It felt weird having to tell him of your intimate life but like he said, it was his responsibility as your doctor to ask you these questions.

“No. Not right now.” If you weren’t staring at the ground in attempts to hide the redness on your cheeks, you’d be able to see the blush on Mark’s. He was just as flustered asking you these questions as you were answering them but he had to be a mature adult and put your past and the fact that the two of you knew each other to the back of his mind.

“How many sexual partners have you had in the last year?”

“None.”

“Bullshit.” As soon as the profanity fell from his lips, that’s when you found yourself looking up at him. What exactly did he mean by that?

“Excuse me?” He must’ve not realized exactly what he said because his eyes widened in shock.

“Sorry—I didn’t—it’s nothing. Forgive me, it’s been a long day. Now, back to the questions.” Knowing Mark for as long as you have, you knew that he was lying. There was meaning behind his confrontation and you were dying to know why the blurted out the word bullshit; but he wasn’t going to say it. It took you back to the last day you saw him. Your family went to see him off at the airport before he left for college and he pulled you in to a tight hug before opening his mouth as if he wanted to tell you something; but nothing came out. It must have not been important and you tried your best to forget about what it is that he wanted to tell you no matter how badly you wish he would’ve said it.

“Do you—uh—do you touch yourself?” Again, you knew he had to ask you that but you really did not want to answer the question. You’d be lying if you said no and you felt weird if he knew that yes, you were guilty of masturbation. Mark was the last person you wanted knowing that you played with yourself every now and then and you were sure he’d look at you in a different light if you told him the truth but when you found yourself nodding in agreement, you knew it was too late.

Seeing his ears turn red made you stifle back a laugh. Was he really getting bashful asking you questions you knew he probably asked every single one of his patients? Did he act so nervous and flustered whenever he had to ask them these questions, or was it because it was you, someone he probably considered a younger sister that he now felt awkward having to inquire about what you did in your free time?

“Okay, now that we’re done with the questions, I’m going to have to uh—check under your breasts to make sure there aren’t any lumps. Then I’ll do a Pap smear. Is that okay—alright? Are you okay with that?” Hearing him stutter as his cheeks continued to darken made your heart warm. You’ve seen Mark get crushes on girls in his grade and it made you green with envy. He always talked so highly about the girls he liked; as if they were one of the seven wonders of the world. You could only dream about being the lucky girl Mark called his. He slowly made his way towards you and gave you an awkward smile before standing right in front of you.

“I uh—I’m going to uh—start now. If it feels uncomfortable or you feel weird just let me know. The last thing I want is for you to feel uneasy and tense.”

You smiled at how much of a gentleman he was being. You were sure he was just as gentle and kind with his other patients, but right now he was treating you so delicately as if he was afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. Before you could prepare yourself, his hand made it’s way into the hospital gown and right under your left breast.

He gently began grazing his thumb and kneading the skin making sure there was no lump or anything he had to worry about. Feeling his cold fingers against your chest sent a warm sensation in between your thighs. You tried your best not to make it obvious that having him touch you in such a way was driving you to the brink of insanity, especially because it was his job, but you’ve fantasized about being in this situation many times.

Every now and then, you’d find yourself admiring Mark from afar and whenever your brother allowed you to, you’d find yourself playing video games with them and you couldn’t help but stare at his fingers and realize how long and skinny they were. Honestly, his fingers were always so pretty and one of your favorite features on him. You wanted nothing more than to hold his hand and even have his fingers wrap around your neck while he’d pound himself inside of you. It was during your times of self pleasure that you’d pretend it was Mark doing that to you.

Sure, you had a couple of one night stands here and there back in college and you even had a boyfriend back in your junior year, but Mark always stayed in the back of your mind after all of these years. He was all your heart craved and wanted to know. It was foolish for you to desire a relationship beyond what you and Mark already had but you couldn’t help yourself. He was your first love and he’d probably stay on your mind until you found someone who could take his place; if that someone even exists.

You could tell he was hesitant and trying his best not to overstep his boundaries but it was taking every bone in your body not to grab his hand and have him cup your mound while toying with your nipple. To your dismay, he finished with your left side and made his way over to the right, continue his ministrations while trying his best to pretend as if nothing was wrong. Like he wasn’t practically massaging your breasts; like he didn’t enjoy it and want to do more. No, he couldn’t think like that. You were his best friend’s younger sister. There was no way anything could happen between you both; no matter how much he wanted to throw you on to the table and fuck your brains out.

You didn’t know it, but you were driving Mark crazy. He was always so fond of you and he always found you so adorable. Sometimes he felt bad about teasing you, but seeing your adorable puppy dog eyes made it all worth it. The explicit and erotic thoughts that were running through his mind sent off red flags and he knew he needed to finish this appointment with you before he did something he’d regret but not because he didn’t want to.

Mark wanted to show you just how much he’s missed you since the two of you have been apart from each other, but it was just too weird and you were technically off limits to him anyway. Knowing you were his best friend’s younger sister didn’t change the fact that Mark thought you were extremely attractive and that you became even more beautiful and dangerously sexy now that you were a young woman.

You were wearing a hospital gown yet you looked so ethereal and Mark knew himself to know that he was only seconds away from ripping the damn gown off and ravishing you and your body in ways that he’s always wanted to. Finally, he was done with checking for any lumps on your breasts and he felt like a huge weight lifted off of his shoulders. Now came the hardest part. The Pap smear. If he had a hard time touching and practically fondling your breasts, what more when he had to practically have his face right in front of your pussy which he was sure was probably lubricated with your juices?

He was so close to saying fuck it and letting his carnal urges take over, but he knew there was going to be consequences for his actions if he continued to think with his second head. “You’re all clear. Now I’m gonna do the Pap smear and hopefully we’ll be able to find out why you’re in pain. If not, I’m going to have to do an ultrasound. Let me just get the tools, can you lie down and lift your legs up?”

You did as you were told and you couldn’t help but giggle at the coolness against the balls of your feet when you placed them against the stirrups. You watched as Mark began to shake as he made his way through the cabinet, grabbing some gel and the tool used for Pap smears. Seeing him freak out at having to do this made you feel at ease for some odd reason. Probably because you weren’t the only one feeling weird. The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Once he took a seat right in front of your bare thighs, he lifted up the gown and began his examination.

“I’m going to apply some gel to lubricate you—I um—I’m also going to have to use my fingers but that’s normal. Don’t hesitate to ask me to stop alright?” You nodded but internally screamed at the idea of him fingering you. What were you even thinking? Like he said, it was something he had to do. The Pap smear tool could only do so much and just like he did when checking your breasts for any lumps, he had to make sure there weren’t any lumps in your vulva. Although you couldn’t see him, you knew he was applying some gel on his fingers and you had to bite your lip when you felt him bring his two fingers up to your entrance.

“Ready?” You let out a soft hum and before you knew it, he pushed his fingers inside of you. In order to prevent yourself from coming off as a bigger fool, you bit down on your lip in attempts to keep any sound from falling out of your mouth. Foreplay was always one of your favorite parts of sex and fingering always seemed to rile you up. Sure, this was a part of the exam, but it felt so good.

He began to move his fingers around in order to evenly spread the cold lubricant around your folds and little did you know, Mark was about to scream at how tight you were clenching around his fingers. You were practically soaking to the point where he didn’t think he needed the damn gel. Why were you so wet? And why was Mark ready to risk it all just to have his way with you?

You were sure your lip was probably bleeding with how tight you were biting down on it and before you knew it, the unthinkable happened. A soft moan fell from your lips at his ministrations. You couldn’t help yourself, his fingers felt so good buried in your cunt and you had a hunch that he too was enjoying himself. The last time you had a Pap smear, your gynecologist was quick to insert the gel, did the Pap smear and called it a day. With the way Mark began pumping his fingers inside of your pussy, you knew he was going beyond the actual exam and you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him to stop. You didn’t want to.

This is all you wanted the minute you first started getting intimate with men. Whenever you had sex, you’d imagine it was Mark loving on your body every single time. There was one instance you almost said his name while another guy was going down on you and you practically bolted the minute you both came. You gasped in shock at the noise and you prayed he didn’t hear it but the growl that came from the back of his throat answered your question.

“Fuck—shit—y/n—I’m so sorry but fuck—this is against the rules and I told myself to never get involved with you in that way but fuck—you’re so fucking beautiful you know that? And extremely fucking sexy—can I—can I continue? You’re so wet and so fucking tight. You’re taking my fingers so—so well—swallowing me so well—shit.”

He continued to pump his fingers in and out of your soaking pussy all the while leaving kisses on both of your thighs. You couldn’t form any complete sentences; you were too in awe at his confession and you had a hard time accepting this was going on right now. Mark Tuan, the boy you’ve harbored feelings for; for over a decade was currently fingering you like his life depended on it. His fingers felt so good pumping inside of you and you couldn’t help but want more.

You knew this was wrong; not only was he your brother’s best friend, but he was a doctor and this was his establishment. There had to be some kind of law that did not allow doctors to fool around with their patient but you weren’t necessarily just a patient to Mark nor was he just a gynecologist to you. The minute you felt him curl his fingers inside of you, you clenched you’re legs together as a way to get him to slow down. Slowly but surely, your orgasm was building and he might have been amazing with his fingers, but this was not the way you wanted to cum.

“M—Mark—m—more. I want—no I need more please.” A stifled giggle fell from his lips and right before you could question him, you felt him lick a strip up at your entrance.

“Fuck.” Everything about Mark never failed to rile you up and excite you. Whether it be his devastatingly handsome good looks, extremely charming personality or his intelligence, he was everything you wanted in a significant other and more. Mark was the blueprint of what you wanted in a man and that’s probably why you’ve been single for so long. Not only did you want to focus on your career and be able to live a free life while you were still young, but nobody ever compared to Mark and right now, as his face was buried in between your thighs, nipping and sucking on your clit, you knew there was no way you’d ever get over this.

Both his lips and his tongue did wonders on your pussy. Hearing him slurp up your juices and hum against your core made you dizzy. If someone were to tell you years ago that Mark Tuan would be eating you out in one of the rooms at his workplace, you would’ve laughed in their face. But here you were, practically screaming in to the pillow that was provided because Mark was giving you head like a professional. He knew exactly what to do to make you squirm and the grip on your thighs made things even more difficult. Your hands absentmindedly made their way to his hair, tugging and pulling on it the longer he continued to lap up your wetness, and before you knew it he was adding in both his fingers causing you to let out a wanton cry.

“Shit—shit—Mark—“ he hummed against your clit and your body warmed up at the feeling.

“Are you close baby?” The pet name sounded so sweet falling from his lips. You’ve heard him call his girlfriends back in high school different terms of endearment and you’d find yourself feeling jealous and wanting him to do the same to you. But you were just a kid in Mark’s eyes at that time. Hearing him call you baby was such an indescribable feeling and you could only hope that whatever this currently was going on with the both of you wasn’t just a one time thing.

When you nodded at his words, you felt him place a soft kiss against your clit as he pulled both his fingers and his face away from where you needed him the most. “You taste so fucking good by the way. I could eat you out for hours. So fucking sweet.” The whine that fell from your lips made you embarrassed; it was obvious you were desperate for release and you didn’t think Mark was capable of being such a tease, but this man was really going to be the death of you.

“Mark what the fuck—“ his lips were warm against yours and no matter how many times you’ve dreamt about kissing him, nothing would ever compare to actually feeling his mouth smashed against yours. The kiss was rough; needy, he began roughly sucking on your bottom lip and bringing it in between his teeth. He joined you on the table and hovered over your lap; pressing himself up against you and your cheeks grew hot once you felt his hard on against your thigh.

You had no words to describe how amazing it felt kissing Mark. He always had the prettiest heart shaped lips and they always looked so soft, so kissable. His lips tasted like strawberry chapstick and it only reminded you of how obsessed he was with applying lip balm back in high school because in his words “chapped lips weren’t sexy.” His hands roamed your body as your make out session continued and to your surprise, he pulled away quickly but only to practically rip your hospital gown off.

“Y/n—are you okay with this? I’m not—I’m not forcing you or making you feel as if you have to do this right? We can stop if you’re not comfortable—I know this is wrong for so many reasons and it’s so immature and irresponsible of me but I can’t stop—you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this for. You—I—I’m in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you for the longest time. Longer than I’d like to admit. You’re an ethereal being you know that? It’s been years since I’ve seen you and my feelings for you have never faltered. If anything, they’ve grown stronger as the days go by. I know—it’s probably hard to believe but I’m telling the truth. It’s always been you y/n. I’m sorry, I chose the wrong time to confess my feelings for you, but I don’t want you thinking I’m just fooling around with you for the sex. I want you, for you. For as long as I can have you for.”

You knew he was waiting for your response with the way he leaned back and looked at you with what you assumed was admiration. His confession made your entire thought process come to a halt. You had a hard time believing this was even happening right now. This was the same boy who stuck gum in your hair and told you girls couldn’t play sports. He was also the same guy who used to walk home from school instead of catching the bus in order to save his money to buy you a present for your 10th birthday. How could he be in love with you?

You’ve seen all the girls he’s been with throughout the years and you were sure he was surrounded with many more mature, gorgeous and successful women. He could get anyone he wanted and with his good looks and social status, he probably had so many women groveling at their feet for him. Plus the two of you haven’t seen each other in forever, there was no way he could still have feelings for you since it’s been so long. You didn’t realize you were holding in your breath until you felt him brush some of your hair back.

“I—I scared you didn’t I? I’m sorry y/n. I shouldn’t have said anything, please forget everything I just said and please don’t say anything to your brother. He already hates me as it is.”

Your mom told you that they had a fallout and that they grew distant from each other and for some reason it upset you. They were friends for over a decade and you were sure they were going to be life long friends. Surely it couldn’t have been the distance that would interfere with their relationship. So what happened between the two of them that caused your brother to end their long term friendship? As the question was on the tip of your tongue, Mark looked at your curious expression and answered for you.

“He found out that I liked you. We were out at a bar one night, a couple of days before I left and I took one too many shots of vodka. I don’t remember how you came up in the conversation but apparently I wouldn’t shut up about how beautiful I think you are and how much I wanted to be with you. I know liking you was wrong the minute I recognized that I harbored feelings for you. Every time I saw you or spent time with you, I had this foreign feeling in my stomach; excitement maybe? Happiness? Love? I kept it to myself for a long time. The age difference and the fact that you were in my life for such a long time already because of my friendship with your brother only reminded me that nothing could happen between us no matter how badly I wanted you. I love every single thing about you y/n. Your quirkiness, your determination, your strength, your kindness, how headstrong you are. You might not think so, but to me you’re perfect y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not he was done talking, but you wanted him to know that you felt the exact same way. Feeling Mark smile in to the kiss that you initiated made your heart flutter; you weren’t that good with words so you could only hope your actions spoke for you. You brought your hand up to his face and gently caressed his cheek all the while deepening the kiss. Only when you felt his dress pants rub against your naked core did you realize that you were completely bare while he was still fully clothed.

“Mark—“ he brought his finger up to your lips in order to silence you while continuing from where he left off before you interrupted him with a kiss.

“The next day, I woke up with a throbbing headache and a few messages from the guys. I had no idea what they were talking about when they told me that it was best to stay away from both you and your brother and then I watched the video Youngjae sent me. I was so mad at myself. I threw my friendship with your brother down the fucking drain and I knew I was going to lose you too. I think it was a good thing that I was moving away so I could use that as an excuse. I kept lying to myself and told myself that it was for the best but it fucking sucked y/n. Your brother was like a brother to me. I wanted to explain myself, but he wouldn’t listen. Apparently I confessed some things that your brother felt was totally out of line and I don’t blame him. If it was the other way around, I’d be pissed too. And fuck, I missed you so much. Your contagious laugh, your breathtaking smile, the fact that you continued to want to hang out with me no matter how mean I was towards you. If I’m being completely honest, I was more upset with losing you than I was your brother. Pathetic right? God, the more I talk about it the more foolish I sound.”

You began running your hands up and down his back as a way to calm him down and out of habit you placed a soft kiss on his jaw. “Then I’m just as pathetic. I’m in love with you too by the way. I’m sorry it took so long for me to admit it—I’m having a hard time accepting everything that just happened. The reason why I was always so clingy towards you when we were younger was because I admired you so much and I loved being around you. I wouldn’t stop asking my mom when the next time you were coming over was. I lied to you back in my junior year; I wasn’t failing trigonometry. I was actually at the top of my class. I just wanted an excuse to get you to tutor me in order to spend as much time with you as possible. I’ve always had a crush on you. Sure, you were the biggest pain in my ass back when I was in elementary school, but as we both got older, I loved having you around. You never failed to make me laugh at your terrible puns and you may not have meant to back then, but you always took such good care of me and made me feel wanted.”

He smiled against your chest and began teasingly playing with both your breasts as a way to distract you. Mark knew the longer you went in to detail about your feelings for him, he’d probably do something embarrassing that he’d regret later on.

“Can you say it again?” Although you knew what he was referring to, you wanted to continue teasing him.

“Say what?”

“Babe—“ you stole one more kiss before playfully squeezing his cheek.

“I love you Mark. More than I can fathom in to words. So um—what does this mean for us? Where do we stand?” He grazed his finger along your folds that were still extremely wet and throbbing from his previous movement while he was in between your legs. Sure, the confessions of love and feelings for one another were very sweet and heartfelt, but the fire building in between your legs was aching to be put out.

The soft moan that fell from your lips only egged him on more and to your dismay, he brought your clit in between his index finger and his thumb and all but gently began to play with it causing the coil that was already building in your stomach to tighten. “Well, now that my feelings for you are out there, I’d like to finish your appointment, then take you to dinner later on tonight. I’d say I’d wait and take it from there, but I’m very confident in us, in our relationship so I’m not giving you the choice; you’re my girlfriend. Fuck, if I knew how amazing this would be, I would’ve made my move years ago. I’m gonna have to schedule you for a check up at least three times a month. Now—“

He started taking off his pants and his underwear came off soon after; your mouth began to water at the sight of his extremely red and hardened cock. It must’ve been so painful; you had a feeling he’s been hard since he was eating you out more than twenty minutes ago. You brought one hand down to his cock and ran your thumb around the tip. You’ve always considered penises to be extremely ugly, but something about Mark’s made your pussy throb. There was one time back when you were in your sophomore year when Mark was sleeping over at your house and you accidentally walked in on him naked. You were quick to cover up your eyes and run out of the bathroom before you could actually see something, but now you found yourself unable to take your eyes off of his fully erect cock. Not only was he thick, but he was also pretty long and you hated how every single thing about him was perfect. You were also excited to feel him stretch you out and bury himself deep inside of you.

“S—shit. Don’t fucking tease me baby. God y/n, you’re so fucking sexy. I’m never going to get enough of you. I can’t wait to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours. Now hurry up and jack me off you slut.”

You giggled softly while wrapping your hand around his length and pumped him up and down. Hearing his soft grunts while you continued your motions caused you to go faster. A huge part of you wanted to suck him off; giving head was one of your favorite parts of sex and you wanted nothing more than for Mark to face fuck you. However, you were soon growing impatient at the idea of finally becoming one with him. You had all the time in the world now to choke on his dick; you wanted him to drill himself in to you. With the way he was thrusting himself in to your hand while leaving love bites on the juncture of your neck, you had a feeling he had the exact idea in mind.

“Baby, as good as this feels, I need to fuck you—like right now. Get ready to be probed—ow! Come on y/n, you have to admit that was funny. Don’t you get the joke? Ultrasound—probing—okay I’ll stop. You were always so judge-mental of my jokes. Fine I’ll stop, but just know I have no intentions on going easy on you. I had a crush on you for quite some time, I’m going to make up for these last few years of being apart. I love you so much y/n and I plan on showing you right now exactly how much you mean to me.”

#got7 imagines #got7 smut #got7 #mark tuan #got7 mark #mark tuan smut

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dothwrites · 4 years

Text

part vi of mafia!au

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

COMPLETE

---

Recovery is slow and excruciating.

Castiel’s body has never rebelled against him to this extent. His muscles refuse to do their damn jobs and function. He’s relegated to his bed for days on end, while being forced to endure Sam Winchester’s lurking and Gabriel’s overly effusive attempts to cheer him.

All of those would be fine, except that he hasn’t seen the house’s other occupant, Dean Winchester, except in short glimpses, as though Dean is the rarest of all animals, only seen from a distance.

Which is fucking bullshit, because he can hear Dean’s voice, echoing through the tiny confines of the house, after Dean thinks he’s asleep. Clearly, it’s not the concept of social interaction which Dean finds daunting, but rather, the concept of social interaction with him.

It’s infuriating.

It wouldn’t be as bad if he thought Dean’s avoidance was due to hatred or indifference. But even though he’d been fairly hazy that first morning, he’d seen how Dean’s whole face brightened, he’d felt the hard clutch of Dean’s fingers in his. The look on Dean’s face...Castiel doesn’t want to put a name to it, doesn’t dare try to define it, but he knows for sure that it wasn’t hatred or apathy.

Which means Dean is staying away from him for some other reason and that...

That’s bullshit.

So Castiel does what he’s been doing his entire life and pushes everything aside in favor of a single minded pursuit. This time, he pours all of himself into the mission to get his fucking body to do what it’s supposed to do. He starts with minuscule goals, such as getting out of bed and pacing around his room, but it’s still too much for some.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Gabriel asks, a little sourly, as he stands in the doorway of Castiel’s bedroom.

“Are you sure you should be poking your nose into my business?” Castiel asks back. For all that Gabriel is the elder sibling, they’ve never been under any delusions as to who was actually suited for this business. Gabriel is too flighty, too interested in frivolous pursuits and the mundane workings of everyday life. It was always Castiel who could sink his teeth into a problem, who could take it apart, hold the bloody pieces in his hands, and see how they could be sewn back together into a new animal.

“Whatever,” Gabriel concedes, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “On your own head be it.”

Castiel sneers after Gabriel as he turns to leave. He’s just in time for Dean to poke his head out of his room. It would be comical, if it weren’t so infuriating, to see how quickly Dean’s eyes bulge and his face reddens. Castiel is afforded one swift glimpse before Dean retreats into the safety of his room, slamming the door closed behind him.

Castiel rolls his eyes and starts another circuit around the room.

---

His body might be stubborn but Castiel continues on his conquest of it. Soon, he’s walking laps around the house, followed by short jogs around the property. The safehouse is far enough in the country that, as long as he’s careful, he can exercise outside without garnering too much attention.

The Winchesters and Gabriel watch him with varying degrees of concern.

“I already told you, I’m fine,” Castiel grunts, massaging at his sore calves after a midnight run. “Besides, we can’t afford to stay here forever.”

Judging from the shifty look on Gabriel’s face, this is not the first time someone has mentioned this fact. He also notes that his brother proposes no solution, which means that no one has either managed or bothered to come up with one. Typical.

Castiel’s impatience and ire increases when he considers the reason they haven’t yet moved on. They’re waiting for him to recover, which is an unconscionable burden on his mind. Every minute they spend in this house, waiting for him to get his shit together, is another minute he’s putting them all in danger.

Gabriel lingers in the doorway, saying nothing, yet watching Castiel with an intensity usually only reserved for cupcakes and candy. After a few moments it starts to grate on Castiel’s nerves, yet he waits until he’s fully done with his post-run routine to speak. “Something else you needed?”

“When are you going to talk about it?” Gabriel asks, much too kindly for Castiel’s liking.

“Talk about what? What do to next? I’d love to do that, if it were possible to get you, Sam, and Dean in the same room for longer than five minutes.”

“When are you going to talk about Naomi?”

Castiel’s blood freezes.

“I might be an idiot, but I know enough. I know who Dad’s attack dogs are, and I know how they work.” Gabriel swallows, unwontedly serious. “I saw the marks, Cassie.”

Castiel’s hand makes an aborted jerk to the crook of his elbow where the scars are still livid against his skin. He catches the movement before it has a chance to amount to anything and forces his hand back down to his side. He can still feel the phantom ache of needles pushing into his skin, still remember how it felt when the road forked and reality went one way while his brain went another.

He hasn’t told anyone, but sometimes, he’ll catch movement out of the corner of his eye, turn, and find nothing there. He tries to tell himself that this happens to everyone, that he’s fine, that he’s normal, but there’s always the insidious creeping fear down his spine--What if he’s losing it? What if Naomi fucked him up permanently?

What if he’s never the same?

If he doesn’t have his mind, if he doesn’t have his body, then he’s useless. He can’t protect anyone. He has nothing to offer.

“I’m fine,” Castiel croaks, once he realizes Gabriel is still waiting for an answer.

One eyebrow ticks upwards. “Yeah, once more until I actually believe you.”

“I already said that I’m fine. I don’t know what else you want.”

Gabriel throws his arm wide. “For you to stop trying to run yourself into the ground? For you to stay in a room longer than ten minutes? For you to acknowledge that you maybe have an actual problem?”

Castiel sniffs, retreating into haughtiness to hide his hurt and anxiety. “Well, I’m sorry if I choose to concentrate on more important things, like trying to get well enough to protect us all.”

Gabriel gapes at him. “To protect...” He looks over his shoulder, like he expects to find the Winchesters supporting him. Upon finding no one there, he turns back to Castiel. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Dean and I are fairly good at what we do. Even the stringbean can hit the broad side of a barn. We’re fine.”

The deliberate inflection of his voice suggests that Castiel is somehow not lumped into the general category of ‘fine’.

“Fuck off,” Castiel growls, as a more appropriate comeback fails to materialize. He storms past his brother, hitting him in the shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom. Gabriel doesn’t try to stop him, but Castiel knows he’s still watching.

Some of his righteous rage is lost when he looks down the length of the hallway and finds Dean standing at the opposite end. He spares a single, startled look at Castiel before he scampers back towards the living room. Castiel’s temper worsens at the sight of Dean’s retreating back.

Dean is a confirmed killer, a man who’s known the feel of a gun in his hand since he could walk. He’s seen Dean in action and admired his skills and ruthlessness. Now he’s watching the same man running scared. Castiel can’t think of anything more pathetic or more frustrating.

Now in a profoundly foul mood, Castiel slams the bathroom door shut. The sound echoes through the house. He twists the knob of the creaky shower, turning the heat all the way up so that steam billows throughout the room. He steps underneath the spray, ignoring the tendrils of pain licking across his body, his tender, scarred skin protesting the rough treatment.

He pushes away the ever present nip of worry (what if Gabriel’s right, what if he’s weak, what if he’s broken beyond repair) and scrubs at his skin until tiny pinpricks of blood well up, and then he scrubs some more.

---

Matters come to a head a few days later.

No longer content with pushing his body through runs, Castiel’s taken to shadow boxing in the house’s basement. He dances around the dank, mildewy space in his bare feet, tossing punches and kicks at imaginary enemies. His muscles scream at the exercise and threaten to collapse and tear, but he pushes on anyway.

His thoughts are spiraling ever downward, dovetailing with his exhaustion. Castiel’s so lost within their grip that the opening of the basement door escapes his attention. Even the weary creak of the step doesn’t catch his attention. He’s formed bad habits in his convalescence. In his world, such laziness gets people killed.

When he catches sight of Dean standing at the foot of the stairs, he jumps in surprise. Embarrassment flushes his cheeks red, and he hides his shame with snippiness. “Did you need something?”

Castiel paces around the basement, grabbing a bottle of water, just to give his hands something to do. He tries to unscrew the top but gives up after two tries. He doesn’t want Dean to see how badly his hands are trembling.

“You know that we’ve got your back, right?” Dean finally says. Castiel stops pacing. He wasn’t expecting that.

Despite his surprise, he recovers quickly. “Coming from a Winchester, that isn’t exactly inspiring,” he sneers.

Dean doesn’t try to hide his flinch. Castiel feels an irrational stab of guilt at that. “I just thought you should hear it from someone who wasn’t your brother,” he says, already turning to go back up the stairs. “But you have all three of us. Him, Sam.” Dean pauses for a second. “Me.” He continues on quickly, like he wants Castiel to forget about the slight emphasis he put on himself. “Anyway, you don’t have to do this every day. Take a day off before you kill yourself.”

Castiel’s upper lip lifts reflexively. So, Dean’s joined forces with Gabriel. Next, he supposes Sam Winchester will find him and urge him to talk about it, you’ll feel better if you get it all out in the open.

“Stay,” he says, brain running ahead of his common sense. Dean pauses, his foot already on the step. “It’s no good shadow boxing. I need a partner.”

Dean wants to argue. Castiel can tell by his hesitation, the twitch of his fingers, the way he closes his mouth on whatever he was going to say. Castiel waits, head cocked to the side. He doesn’t quite smile in victory when Dean makes his decision, but he must give off the impression of it, as Dean’s expression darkens.

“You know this isn’t doing you any good,” Dean says, as he sheds his flannel overshirt. The fabric has barely hit the floor before Castiel is on him, swinging at his head in a wild, haymaker punch. Dean blocks him easily, but the suddenness of the attack surprises him, as he lurches backward.

“What the hell?” he spits, a mixture of fury and worry spread across his face.

Castiel dances back, shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. His fists are held up close to his jaw, elbows tucked in close to his sides to protect his ribs. Within seconds, Dean copies his movements, but with slight differences. Castiel keeps himself contained, taut, muscles coiled in a defensive posture. Dean is looser, his left hand lazily extended, though Castiel doesn’t fall for the trap. That left hand can just as easily block blows as it can land a stinging jab.

When it comes to Dean Winchester, there are dozens of traps, and Castiel seems to have fallen into all of them.

They spend several long minutes circling each other, exchanging tentative jabs in a dance of blocks and dodges. They learn what blows the other considers threatening and what the other will shake off.

Castiel changes the tempo when he aims a low kick at Dean’s hip. Dean twists out of the way, but when he turns back to Castiel, something in his face has changed. His eyes have hardened, his fingers curled purposefully into his palm. Castiel understands. Dean was just passing the time earlier, indulging his whimsy. For whatever reason, now he’s made up his mind to act.

“You need to take it easy,” Dean tells him. He moves easily into Castiel’s space, each motion screaming aggression. He bats away Castiel’s jab; Castiel blocks Dean’s punch. They fall apart, sharp eyes raking over the other in a search for weaknesses.

“You need to mind your own business,” Castiel replies. He has to concentrate on speaking; already he’s a little short of breath, though he’d rather chew off his own fingernails rather than admit that to Dean. “What I do is none of your concern.”

Dean falters at that. His defenses lower, which allows Castiel to dart in, landing several snap punches to Dean’s ribs before Dean regains himself and forces him back. Something dangerous flashes in the depths of Dean’s eyes, and a vicious satisfaction rises in Castiel’s chest. This is what he wanted, this is the Dean Winchester that he--

The thought hits him, unbidden and unwelcome, and Castiel freezes. His inattention gives Dean the opening he needs. Where Castiel fights with precision and accuracy, Dean favors overwhelming force. It’s a strategy which works well for him and he uses it to devastating effect, foregoing fancy footwork and devious punches for a simple, unavoidable attack. Dean puts his head down and charges, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist in an attempt to throw him to the ground.

It’s a perfect storm: His muscles, still not where they were before, falter. His balance, another casualty of Naomi’s untender mercies, isn’t enough to save him from catching his heel against an irregularity on the cheap mat he’s laid out. Dean is a hurricane, a typhoon, and underneath his onslaught, Castiel tumbles backward.

Castiel’s back hits the ground, hard enough to knock the breath out of him. His head slams into the ground, and his vision spins for several, vital seconds. By the time he regains his equilibrium, Dean is already atop him, knees clamping in hard against his ribs. One of Dean’s hands wraps around his throat, fingers flexing in warning.

“Enough,” Dean says tightly. “Whatever you’re trying to prove, enough. We get it, all right? You’re a big badass who doesn’t need anyone. We get it.”

If he weren’t staring so closely at Dean’s face, then Castiel would miss his quick flash of emotion. As it is, it’s there and gone before he has a chance to really examine it, but for the moment, it’s enough to know that it exists.

Castiel slumps back onto the floor, allowing his exhausted muscles a moment’s respite. Dean, ever cautious, doesn’t relent. Smart man. Ruthless. Focused. He’s a killer, Dean Winchester, and whatever is broken in Castiel’s brain is drawn to that part of him, just as much as it’s drawn to the well-hidden, softer aspects of him, like his obvious affection for his brother and his insistence on protecting civilians.

But for all of his admirable qualities, Dean Winchester is still just a man. Castiel tips his head back, baring the vulnerable stretch of his throat to Dean’s gaze. It’s a deliberately submissive gesture, one designed to draw the eyes. He feels the exact moment Dean loosens his grip, distracted, and it’s that moment that Castiel acts.

He bucks his hips up in a single, sharp motion, while striking out at Dean’s elbow. With his support gone, Dean buckles. While there are countless activities which Castiel could imagine partaking in with Dean slumped overtop him, he’s not interested in any of them. Instead, he uses Dean’s momentum against him, rolling them until their positions are neatly reversed.

Dean snarls and curses, but Castiel has him pinned, much more securely than Dean did him. His knees presses down on Dean’s right wrist, immobilizing his strongest arm. Castiel leans forward. With his superior position, he doesn’t need to hold back his panting, doesn’t need to feel ashamed for the several beads of sweat which slip down from his forehead to the tip of his nose, to fall upon Dean’s throat.

“I don’t need your permission to do anything,” Castiel says, once he thinks he can speak without wheezing through a sentence. “I’m not weak, I’m not broken, I’m not whatever else you three think I am. I’m fine.” Before he can stop himself, the words come tumbling out, the ones which he’d meant to keep close to his chest. “So you can stop running from me, or whatever it is that you’ve been doing. I’m fine.”

Emotion twists across Dean’s face again, and this time, Castiel is in a position to examine it. Surprisingly, when he’s forced to put a name to it, the definition he comes up with is guilt. He tilts his head to the side in confusion, only realizing after he sits back on Dean’s stomach that he’s left himself vulnerable to an attack.

Dean doesn’t take the opening. He lays passively underneath Castiel and doesn’t try to squirm away, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t do anything. If Castiel had to guess, then he would say that Dean enjoys being there. Or at least, he would if he could get that awful, hangdog look off his face.

“What is it?” he asks. There’s something there, writhing underneath the surface of Dean’s expression, something that probably shouldn’t see the surface but it has to.

Dean turns his head away. It’s a childish move, one that irritates Castiel, as it’s an extension of what Dean’s been doing for days. He’s avoiding Castiel, running from him, which is infuriating. Dean Winchester is many things, but a coward, he is not.

“Answer me.” He takes Dean’s jaw in his hand and forces Dean to meet his eyes. He stares at Dean, the same stare guaranteed to make hardened criminals think twice and civilians piss their pants.

It makes Dean blink, but it’s enough. That blink starts an avalanche, and eventually, Dean’s whole face crumples. He blinks, hard and fast, green flickering in and out of existence.

“It was my fault.” Dean’s voice comes out as a tortured whisper. Castiel holds Dean’s jaw prisoner between his fingers, now allowing Dean to turn away. At first, Dean jerks against the restricting hold, but once the first wall crumbles, all the rest fall quickly, and Dean stares him down.

“What was your fault?” Castiel asks, when no more information is forthcoming.

For a moment, he thinks Dean will pull away, but Dean surprises him. It’s obvious that he’s struggling with his admission, but it comes. Haltingly, in little fits, but it comes.

“If it hadn’t been for me...Fuck, Cas, are you going to make me say it? If it weren’t for me, then you would be fine. You’d be with your family, head of the family, and you’d be...” Dean forces a swallow. His eyes perform a swift sweep of Castiel’s figure, down to his chest, where the scars still linger.

“It fucking killed me to see you like that.” Dean’s hand rises and Castiel doesn’t move to stop him, not even when Dean’s fingers sneak underneath the hem of his shirt to stroke against his skin. His breath catches as Dean’s calloused fingertips catch against the scabbed edges of his wounds. Every instinct screams for him to move, to run, to flee, but he forces his muscles to inaction and allows Dean to explore him through touch. “God, Cas...You were...”

Dean looks up at him. His expression is naked and raw. Castiel feels exposed just witnessing it. “You’re a fucking force of nature,” Dean whispers, pressing his palm flat against the quivering skin of his belly. “You’re a goddamn hurricane, and...”

When he stares at Dean, Castiel sees an unfathomable, looming wave rising in his eyes, the same wave which he feels swelling in his own chest. He leans forward, and Dean’s hand slides from his stomach to his back. The skin there is marred as well, and he gasps softly as Dean’s thumb strokes over a particularly deep wound.

“It was my choice,” Castiel whispers. He’s hovering low over Dean, their chests almost brushing. He’s close enough that if he wanted, he could count the freckles dotted across the bridge of Dean’s nose. Dean blinks. From his vantage point, Castiel can appreciate the thick curtain of golden lashes fanning across his cheek.

“I made the call, not you. I knew what had to be done, and I did it. You think I could have been happy there, knowing you were dead? That I’d had a chance to stop it and did nothing? Every second was worth it because that was another second you were safe. I made the choice, and I’d make it again, in a heartbeat. Don’t take that from me.”

“Goddammit, Cas,” Dean breathes. His hand is heavy against Castiel’s spine, but for once, Castiel doesn’t bristle at the restraint. “I’m not worth that.”

Castiel’s mouth is not made for smiling. In fact, sometimes he thinks he’s forgotten the knack of it. But around Dean, his face moves easier. An actual smile, not the sarcastic, threatening expression he usually plasters on his face when he feels like intimidating someone, tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Lucky for both of us, you don’t get to make the decisions,” Castiel whispers.

He’s not sure which of them moves first. Either way, the end result is the same. His lips crash into Dean’s and Dean receives him with a low moan of delight, his mouth opening automatically. Castiel cards his fingers through Dean’s short hair, tugging at the strands as he maps out the interior of Dean’s mouth.

The first time he kissed Dean, he’d been selfish. He’d been standing on the edge of his darkest moment, and he’d wanted something golden to take with him, something to hold through the horror. The second time he kissed Dean, he’d been half out of his mind, clinging to the barest hint of reality. He hadn’t even realized Dean was kissing him until it was over.

This time...

The third time he kisses Dean, Castiel takes his time.

---

The atmosphere in the house relaxes.

Castiel stops pushing himself quite so much, and his muscles, glad for the reprieve, begin working as they should. Day by day, his strength increases, and Castiel takes full advantage of this.

Dean enjoys being pinned and Castiel aims to please.

The four of them hold contests--who is the quickest draw, who’s the best shot, who has the best accuracy with knives. Sam Winchester, it turns out, is a damn good shot, especially when Castiel considers his youth.

The four of them work well together. Their personalities clash, sometimes terribly, but they also complement each other, pragmatism warring with emotion, brawn matching brains. Castiel laughs as he looks around the room, realizing that, for possibly the first time in his life, he’s comfortable. Amazing, that he can relax in a room with two Winchesters, but there it is. He trusts Sam and Dean, more than any member of his family, to watch his back.

(No doubt Dean would throw in an off-color comment about being all too happy to watch Castiel’s back, but he chooses to ignore Dean’s rather childish sense of humor.)

The question naturally arises, as to their next move.

“The smartest thing to do would be to split up.” It’s Castiel who says it, because it’s always Castiel who retreats to the fortress of cold logic. Three pairs of betrayed eyes stare him down. Castiel returns the stare. “It makes the most sense. There’s four of us; if we all split up, we’d stand a better chance of escaping. We could start over. Be whoever we wanted to be.”

(Gabriel’s been fighting against the Novak name since he was old enough to know there was something to fight against. Sam Winchester has never wanted the mantle of the Winchester family; he’s dreamed of something else, something altruistic, far away from the dark cloud of John Winchester. Dean...All Dean knows is duty to his father, but Castiel already knows that he’d follow Sam wherever he went. And Castiel...well...He can always try to take back the Novak family. No doubt he’ll fail, but he’s a weapon, a hammer. He doesn’t know how to be anything else.)

“Fuck that,” Dean says, crude and succinct as always. “Your splitting up plan, not your be whoever we want to be plan.”

Dean leans forward. His eyes lock onto Castiel’s. It’s as though they’re the only two people in the room. “Look at us. We wouldn’t have gotten you out if we hadn’t worked together. You wouldn’t have been able to get me out if we hadn’t worked together. You, me, Gabriel, Sam...we’re just better together.”

Dean’s words touch something vulnerable in his chest, something Castiel has never bothered to acknowledge. What else was there for him, other than a life of violence? There was no room in the Novak family for love, no room for freedom.

Dean makes him dream it’s possible.

“They’ll look for us,” Castiel says, in a last ditch attempt at realism. “Not only the Novaks. The Winchesters too. They won’t like the idea that people are capable of defying them.”

“So let them come.” It’s Sam’s voice, ringing clear from the table. He might have come to this house as a child, but he’s matured in the time since he’s been here. Castiel trusts him just as much as anyone else sitting at the table. “Dean’s right. If there’s four of us, then we stand a better shot. We’ll watch each other’s back.”

“Careful there, Samsquatch,” Gabriel hums, his eyes dancing over the rim of his glass. “Your back is a little big to watch.”

Sam shoots Gabriel a disparaging look and Castiel has to struggle to bite back his laugh. How could he dream of giving this up? These people are his friends, his...

His family.

“So we go. We’ll go somewhere new, make our own destinies. Team Free Will.” Dean takes a drink from his glass.

“Nifty title, but I think you’re leaving a few steps out,” Gabriel says. “I’m all in favor of Team Free Will, but exactly how are we going to make our way in the world?”

Gabriel’s eyes cut to Castiel. It’s Castiel who always has the answer, Castiel whose brutal logic always comes rushing forth at times like these.

And this is the time for logic. Both the Novaks and the Winchesters have considerable financial resources, and they’ll stop at nothing to regain their lost sense of pride. If they’re found, then the best they can hope for is a quick death. Castiel might have tucked the majority of his finances away, but his funds won’t stretch nearly as far or as long as he’ll need them to. They’ll have to get jobs. Or else...

Maybe they could move to a different city and start their own family. Maybe, one day, they could come back here and take back what’s rightfully theirs.

Castiel glances over at Dean. They could run this town. They could have it all.

“I don’t know,” Castiel finally answers, ostensibly answering Gabriel, but never looking away from Dean.

“I guess we’ll make it up as we go.”

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #gabriel #mafia!au #part vi of vi #finally done #complete #dothwrites

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simplybakugou · 4 years

Text

The Way You Make Me Feel

↝ Being in a new relationship with your best friend can be scary, especially when your words make him blush.

BINGO SPACE: Pet Names

PROMPT: “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!midoriya x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: fluff, cute :) ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1635

A/N: here’s my submission for @bnhabookclub’s Celebrating Deku event for his birthday, so this is my way of doing something for his birthday :)This is also for the bingo event that’s going on in the server.

BTW, this is my first time writing for deku and basically any character other than bakugou so i’m sorry if this was total trash, i’m just not used to it lol.

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 07.15.2020✐

The TV was blaring louder than usual as you were cooking breakfast, your head turning every now and then to pay attention to the news as well as make sure you didn’t burn your house down. But you knew you had to tune into what was going on, especially since your boyfriend was the one the reporters were talking about.

Not every girl was able to say that they were going out with the Midoriya Izuku: the number one hero and the new symbol of peace. And here you were, lucky enough to have him as your boyfriend.

Since middle school, you and Midoriya were attached to the hip. You were able to watch your quirkless best friend grow into a strong man as time flew right past the two of you. Although you had no intention of being a pro hero, you were always ecstatic to see Midoriya on TV during the U.A. sports festivals, not to mention how terrified you were whenever class A was attacked by the League of Villains.

Nevertheless, you had a relationship with Midoriya that was strictly friends only for a majority of the time you knew him. But somewhere along the way, the more you saw him and began to realize he wasn’t the timid middle school kid that constantly got picked on for his quirklessness, you developed feelings for him.

Your feelings developed gradually, something that didn’t just dawn on you one day while you were hanging out with him. But once you did have that realization, you weren’t afraid to address your feelings directly to him. Needless to say Midoriya hadn’t always been the best with confrontations concerning romance but he knew deep down he would be lying if he said he didn’t like you back.

And here you were, a month into your new relationship with your best friend. You initially were afraid of ruining your friendship that you cherished deeply, even now still having this fear in the back of your mind whenever you were with your boyfriend, but you also knew you would never be able to suppress the way you felt about Midoriya any further.

Regardless of your fears, you were happy with your decision, enjoying the way that your newly developed relationship began to blossom the more time you spent with Midoriya.

“The Hero Public Safety Commision Center is holding a strictly pro heroes only meeting at the moment concerning the issue with the newly organized villain group that attacked Jaku City last week,” the news reporter explained to the audience.

You sighed, turning the stove off and placing your breakfast onto a plate to eat. You remembered Midoriya explaining how crucial and important this meeting was as he rambled on, like he usually did, about the various kinds of pros that would be attending the conference. He was excited to meet his old classmates from U.A. who he hadn’t seen in years since he began his pro hero occupation, but was also unsettled by the numerous villain attacks that have been occurring over the past few weeks.

As you sat yourself on your sofa in front of the TV and ate breakfast, you glanced curiously at a yellow folder sitting on the edge of the table. You reached over and grabbed it, examining the contents of the mysterious folder.

“That idiot,” you muttered as you read the papers. One of them read “Notes for the Hero Commission Meeting” and you shook your head, surprised that Midoriya, who was always neat and organized especially since he’s constantly writing something down, forgot such important papers for the meeting.

Standing to your feet with the folder in hand, you grabbed your keys and your coat, wanting to make sure your boyfriend would be well prepared for his meeting by getting the file to him immediately.

***

Saying that the Commission Center building was ginormous would be an understatement. Fortunately you managed to find your way to the center since its giant stature made it so easy to locate. You pushed open the huge doors to the building, approaching one of the receptionists at the front desk. “Hi, I’m looking for Deku, he left this and it’s crucial that he gets this for the meeting today.”

The woman shook her head, giving you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, m’am, but I believe the meeting has just started and I can’t interrupt them right now.”

“Ah, I understand. Thank you.” You turned around, gripping the file in hand.

Before you could mentally scold your boyfriend for forgetting something so important, you turned your head, seeing Midoriya down the hall outside the conference room, looking outwardly distraught.

“Babe!” You called out, cupping a hand around your mouth so that he would be able to hear you.

Midoriya whipped his head towards you, his whole face burning into a bright crimson shade as you approached him. “Y-Y/N? What’re you doing here?”

You extended your arm out, handing the file to him. “You forgot this at my place. Be careful next time, I know how big this meeting is.”

Midoriya blinked rapidly, a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead as he nodded his head a few times. “R-Right, thanks for this. I, uh, need to head in now.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Good luck!”

Midoriya sent a nervous smile back to you, proceeding inside the conference room. You turned around towards the lobby, sitting down in the waiting room as you asked the receptionists if you could wait until the meeting was over for Midoriya. They allowed you to do so and you sat yourself down.

You glanced towards the conference room every now and then, the image of Midoriya’s uneasiness when you spoke with him popping up in your mind. That meeting must be making him anxious, you thought to yourself. It was the only thing that made sense to you to explain how on edge he was.

You waited around for about thirty minutes, deciding to get up and get coffee for you and Midoriya as sitting down for such a long time was getting boring. Peering over through the window of the coffee shop, you saw a few pro heroes exit the Commission Center, a newly formed crowd of reporters greeting them. You even recognized your old classmate from middle school and fated rival of Midoriya, Bakugou amongst the pros.

You grabbed your coffees and exited the cafe, waiting just outside of the crowd for Midoriya. Finally you spotted him, maneuvering the coffees into your arm to grab your phone to send him a text. You didn't want to call him out in front of so many reporters, especially since the media had always been so nosy and intrusive in the personal lives of pros. The last thing Midoriya needed was for strangers with cameras to flash their devices at the sight of his girlfriend waiting for him, not to mention your relationship was still so fresh and new.

Midoriya sent you a response, agreeing to meet up at his house since it was closer than your place and he didn’t want the probing crowd to follow him and figure out where you lived. Nonetheless you walked down the street, annoyed as you could hear Midoriya try and ease the crowd from prying into confidential matters. But you knew you would only cause him more trouble if you directly confronted the reporters to ask them to leave him alone so you held back your tongue and somehow managed to reach his house.

Midoriya took a shortcut, using his quirk to lose the reporters and you went through the side door just in case any lurking reporters caught you waiting at his front door step.

Midoriya let out a sigh as he slipped in his home, successfully avoiding the crowd. He smiled at you, hoping he hadn’t kept you waiting too long.

“Sorry about that. Those news reporters can be a hassle to deal with.”

You shook your head, handing him his coffee as he thanked you. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault you’re so popular that those assholes want to know everything about you.” Midoriya laughed, taking a sip from his drink.

“Did everything go well in the meeting, baby?” You asked, leaning on a table in the living room.

Midoriya nearly choked on his coffee, his eyes widening and his body stiffening. His face began to heat up, his cheeks ablaze a deep pink hue once again. You raised a concerned brow at him, setting your coffee down and placing a hand on his shoulder. The action and your touch only made him feel even more rigid. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m f-fine,” he managed to sputter out.

“Are you still nervous from the meeting?”

Midoriya gave you a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you were acting the same way before the meeting so I thought you’re still nervous ‘cause of the meeting,” you explained.

Midoriya let out a small chuckle, rubbing the nape of his neck as he thought about how to elucidate this to you. “Um, it’s not because of the meeting that I’m… acting like this. I’m just not used to hearing you call me b-baby.”

You laughed for a moment, surprised you hadn’t figured it out earlier, especially since you’ve known him for so long. You rose your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks which only made him blush furiously. “Izuku, you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

You stood on the balls of your feet, planting a peck on his lips, which nearly caused him to short circuit on the spot.

No matter how your relationship developed or how long you would be with him, Midoriya could never get used to your cute pet names for him… not that he minded.

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, please join here!

Taglist: @pinkcowgirleggpanda @xtsundere-princess @wesparklebitch @hot-pocket01 @iamthe-leaf @ahrinine @kirisclementine @lmaobroccoli

#bnhabookclub #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #deku midoriya #bnha midoriya #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines

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kaimcclains · 5 years

Text

one hundred ways to say “i love you” (1/100)

“pull over. let me drive for awhile.”

When Mira had suggested a group road trip out of the blue as a way to celebrate the beginning of summer, it had been a fun idea at the time. Emphasis on fun.

The cramped city highways had easily given way to open, spacious back roads after a couple of hours, and while the sight was beautiful at first, it’s quite monotonous now. Kai almost wishes he had thought to bring some other form of entertainment besides a Nintendo 3DS, especially because he was certain his battery was running out of juice. He did have his phone, but his limited data plan meant he’d have to use it sparingly, much to his chagrin.

The trees appear to agree as they pass by Kai’s passenger window, swaying in the gentle breeze outside.

“I’m hungry! When are we pulling over for snacks?” Mira complains from the backseat. She‘s spread out across the three seats, empty Dorito wrappers littering the back of Adam’s car. A pair of headphones lay dangling precariously from her neck; one wrong bump on the road could send it careening into the seat in front of her, and then Kai would be really pissed.

“Didn’t you just eat twenty minutes ago?” Kai questions. He could have sworn he heard the crinkling of more of those mini serving-size chips he bought at the store yesterday (that was supposed to be rationed) as she streamed for her Instagram live.

“Yeah, whatever minutes ago. I need real food though!” exclaims Mira.

Kai only groans loudly and longly in response, head banging against the dashboard.

“Adam? Are we gonna pull over soon?” When he didn’t receive a response, he chanced a glance at Adam’s side profile. He seems too focused on the road to answer Kai, so he resorts to poking the other’s arm.

“What?!” Adam finally says irritably after a few good nudges from Kai. He only feels a twinge of guilt now for bothering his friend.

“Mira wants to know if we’re pulling over soon for food.”

“Hey! Quit mentioning me up there!”

Kai rolls his eyes so hard, he’s sure the other occupants of the car can hear it. Nonetheless, he continues to stay tuned to what was sure to be another Adam and Mira debate: Food Edition.

“We don’t need it.” Adam states plainly.

The first shot on the battlefield has been officially fired. Kai braces himself for a pointless clash that’ll only result in Mira getting her way.

“Yes, we do! Do you want me dead? Do you want me to fucking perish in your backseat, Adam?” Mira counters, arms waving wildly in the back in a futile effort to support her point.

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“My stomach is already on its way to digest itself, and then when I have no stomach and have to get buried out in the woods because I can’t digest anything anymore, my last dying thought will be of your betrayal.” She smirks with the knowledge that she most definitely swayed Adam into stopping for a diner (or take-out. She’s up for anything at this point).

Adam rubs one of his temples, clearly agitated. They drive in silence for another mile, Mira attempting and failing to give Adam puppy-dog eyes from the back.

Kai thinks this is likely his cue to say something.

“Hey, uh, buddy? You doing okay?”

Adam doesn’t reply.

“My dude? My man? My main man, Adam?” He tries, pronouncing Adam’s name in the way he knows Adam hates it.

“What?” The other male grits out.

“Do you want me to uh-. You know, um,” It’s obvious that Kai’s brain isn’t catching up to his mouth, what with Adam‘s concerned glance to the side of his head as he collects his thoughts.

“Just pull over. Let me drive for a while.” He spits out after a painful moment of silence. He notices the way Adam subtly grips the steering wheel tighter and grimaces. Kai is such a fucking dumbass.

“Um. Yeah, okay.” Surprisingly, Adam agrees. He drives onto the gravel, parking it and yanking up the emergency brake as he exits his car and ventures to Kai’s side.

Mira takes advantage of the opportunity to veer off as well, immediately stretching her legs and wringing her back out. Kai’s still in shock that Adam’s letting him drive. He’s told him time and time again that his car was like his baby, and here he is trusting his idiotic best friend with it.

Kai gets out after Adam opens the door, quickly unlatching his seatbelt and taking a second to stretch his arms. His limbs felt like they were functional again for the first time in hours.

“Thanks,” he states blankly, not sure of what else he's required to say aloud despite the millions of contrasting thoughts tumbling around his head.

“Yeah.”

Before Kai can reflect on his actions, he’s reaching out to envelop his best friend in a hug that catches both parties off guard. “Promise I won’t crash your car,” Kai whispers into his neck, cheeks tinged the slightest shade of pink. Adam blinks in shock, eyes slipping to the ground as he mumbles a quiet “you better not” to Kai’s shoes. Kai can feel Adam's arms encircling him for the tiniest millisecond before Kai stumbles away.

“You wanna leave now, or should we stay here?”

“It’s a short break, and then we’ll go stop for food,” Adam declares, raising his voice towards the end of his sentence so he’s sure Mira hears him (and because he’s just that petty).

“All right,” agrees Kai as he sits on the unpaved gravel outside the car, pulling his knees up to his chest. He’s succeeding in getting his only reliable pair of jeans dusty and gross, but it’s a better option than stuffing himself inside a car seat for another half hour or so at the moment.

“Any idea where you want to stop?” asks Adam.

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll see where the wind takes us,” he smiles pleasantly.

***

next chapter

#the hollow #kaidam #the hollow netflix #🌸{fic tag}🌸#adam #adam the hollow #the hollow adam #kai #kai the hollow #the hollow kai #mira #mira the hollow #the hollow mira #mine

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bnha-general-fan · 4 years

Text

The Consequences Of Running From Your Problems

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: M/M

Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Relationship: Midoriya Izuku/Yagi Toshinori | All Might

Characters:

Midoriya Izuku

Yagi Toshinori | All Might

Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Uraraka Ochako

Ashido Mina

Additional Tags:

Getting Together

Pining

All Might and Izuku are pining fools

Everyone is sick of their pining

So Ochaco and Mina decide to act

Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is So Done

secret santa gift

Daily bhna secret santa exchange

A tiny bit angsty and a tiny bit fluffy

Izuku is 23 here!!

Summary:

Yagi Toshinori knew how this was going to end. Izuku would press and Toshinori, who was unable to deny him anything, would crumble and confess why he had been avoiding the younger man. Izuku would then look at him, surprised and shocked and a little bit disgusted, before turning him down gently and exiting the room, leaving Toshinori in shambles behind him. But then, like he always seemed to do, Midriya Izuku shattered all his expectations. *** Toshinori and Izuku have been pining for each other, and everyone is honestly sick of it. Uraraka and Mina, seeing that those two weren't going to do anything to solve the tension between them, take the matter on their own hands. How? Locking them together, of course!

A gift to @commander-erwin-smith for the @dailybnha secret santa exchange! I hope you like it :)

Read it in AO3.

Or read it under the cut:

The yearly Christmas party that was celebrated at UA, and which this year was attended by the whole of what five years ago was 3-A (at their insistence), had only been going on for no more than an hour and he already wanted to bash his head on something.

‘The pining is making me sick.’

Aizawa Shouta, also known as pro hero Eraserhead, took a sip of his drink and frowned as he saw the two people that thought was about talking to each other.

On one side was Midoriya Izuku, also known as pro hero Deku. He hadn’t changed much since he was a student under Shouta, still as bright and easily flustered, and he was showing it while floundering in his conversation with the other person: Toshinori Yagi. All Might. Who was as hopeless as the younger man, if the way he blushed and didn’t quite meet the eyes of the other hero was any indication.

Honestly, those two. Ever since All Might’s retirement, Shouta had noticed their relationship getting closer and closer but being the emotionally clueless man he was, it wasn’t until Hizashi pointed it out that he noticed the blushes both wore often when they were around each other. How Midoriya’s eyes shone with much more than hero worship, and how Yagi’s smile was a touch too warm and fond to be just fatherly. Not to talk about the guilt and anguish the older man showed immediately after, distancing himself from the younger and leaving Midoriya staring after him with a confused and heartbroken look in his eyes that definitely didn’t make Shouta want to go after All Might and make him apologize, no matter what Hizashi said.

It was a situation straight out of a manga. Seriously, Shouta didn’t know two people could be so obviously in love with each other but completely unaware the object of their affections felt the same. That level of obliviousness seemed too much to exist, but there it was. Shouta was seeing it with his own two eyes.

And he wasn’t the only one if the way Uraraka and Mina were whispering and glancing towards the pair was any indication. Shouta’s senses screamed that mischief was on its way, but they also warned him that he didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever they were planning.

Decision made, he turned around and ignored the concerning words he could overhear among the whispering.

He nearly pitied the two oblivious idiots, but it was something they had coming to them.

Yagi Toshinori was an utter fool.

Or at least, that’s how the man himself felt as he made way for the other side of the party room, knowing full well he was running away like a coward and not caring in the slightest.

He knew he was hurting Izuku by behaving like he was. By distancing himself, pulling away from conversations. But he couldn't help it, just like he couldn't help not pulling completely away from him.

He knew it was wrong to feel like he did for someone so much younger than him, but he couldn't seem to stop, even after all these years. As the former number one hero, he'd had to hide his injury and secret identity from everyone, preventing him from getting close to people.

He'd known that becoming a symbol would be a lonely, lonely life. A life he thought himself prepared for. But loneliness took its toll, and so he clung to few people he had. And of all of them, Midoriya Izuku had always been special.

The kid had always been so strong and heroic, with a heart bigger than anyone he’d met before. The second he saw him, scrawny and teary but determined to save his friend from the sludge villain, he’d known that he had been wrong telling him he couldn’t be a hero. At that moment, Toshinori was sure Midoriya Izuku had the potential of becoming a great hero, quirk or not. It was also at that moment that he knew the kid would be a great successor, his quirk only increasing the potential he already had.

Toshinori had then seen himself as a mentor to the kid and hadn’t expected their relationship to go much further. But then again, he hadn’t expected to live much longer either, so he hadn’t been as guarded around the kid as he usually was with other people. Izuku knew about his other form, so he let himself be Toshinori instead of the boisterous number one hero All Might. And as time passed, it felt more and more natural to let the kid, who was becoming a young man, to see more of him. His bad days, his flaws, his failures (he failed Nana when he couldn’t save her from dying, and failed her again along with his successor when he didn’t kill All for One the first time and that hurt). All the parts of himself Toshinori disliked, Izuku saw them and instead of becoming disillusioned (because the number one hero was supposed to be perfect, always smiling, always cheerful and reassuring) his awe of him only increased.

“You may be All Might, Yagi-san, but you’re still human,” Izuku had said with a serious look in his eyes. “The fact that you could do everything you’ve done while carrying that burden only makes you more incredible to me.”

And oh, Toshinori may not know exactly when he fell for his young charge, but he felt that moment was probably it.

“Call me Toshinori, my boy,” was the only answer he could give.

“Call me Izuku then!” Izuku had smiled.

From then on, they became closer and closer, until Toshinori realized his feelings and felt so disgusted with himself that he began to do what he had just done: pull away. Put distance between them, but not pulling completely away because it hurt so much, and Toshinori had always tried not to be selfish but he couldn’t help himself where Izuku was concerned. He knew it was the right thing to do until he’d buried those feelings, but he just couldn’t walk away from Izuku.

The hurt in his eyes every time he did this just made him feel worse.

“Yagi-sensei!”

Startled out of his thoughts by the sudden voice, Toshinori turned around to see young Ashido grinning at him.

“Ah, Ashido-kun!” he greeted, plastering a smile on his face, “Long time no see! How have you been-”

“No time for niceties, Yagi-sensei, I need you to come with me right now!”

Alarmed, Toshinori allowed Mina to drag him away from the party.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

“It’s an emergency!” Mina insisted, her words only worrying Yagi more.

Which was why he was so startled when he was suddenly pushed into a small storage room along with another person before the door closed on them.

“Ashido-kun! What-?!”

“Ochaco-chan, why-?!”

Someone talked at the same time as him, and Toshinori tensed as he recognized the voice. But before either of them could say anything, Mina and Uraraka spoke from outside.

“Sorry Deku-kun, Yagi-sensei, but this is for your own good!”

“That’s right! The way you both are behaving is painful to watch, so you are not getting out of there until you’ve talked!”

Speechless at the daring of his former students, Toshinori just stared at the closed door for a few seconds before sighing and turning towards the other occupant of the room.

"Do you want to do the honors or shall I?" He asked, gesturing at the door that could be very easily blown away with a small Smash.

Izuku remained quiet for a few seconds, looking at his feet with a neutral face Toshinori had never seen before on him, before seemingly coming to a decision and looking up. As he met those green eyes, Toshinori couldn't help but gulp slightly at the sheer determination in them and in that very second, he knew he wasn't getting out of this anytime soon.

"No, Toshinori," Izuku said in a soft but firm voice, "We are not getting out. I've been trying to corner you for months, and you kept avoiding me so now that I have you here we're going to stay and we're going to talk."

Yes, he was definitely not getting out of this.

Toshinori and Izuku stared at each other's eyes in a silent contest for a few seconds, when Toshinori let out a long sigh and seemed to deflate, conceding defeat.

"Very well, Izuku. Let's talk."

He knew how this was going to end. Izuku would press and Toshinori, who was unable to deny him anything, would crumble and confess why he had been avoiding the younger man. Izuku would then look at him, surprised and shocked and a little bit disgusted, before turning him down gently and exiting the room, leaving Toshinori in shambles behind him.

Yes, he knew how this would end. But seeing the hidden hurt in Izuku's eyes, Toshinori couldn't make himself run away anymore. He had to stop being a coward and confront his feelings, even if it meant losing someone so dear to him.

“Why have you been avoiding me, Toshinori?” Came the expected question. Yoshinori steeled himself, took and deep breath and made to answer before Izuku, as he always seemed to do, shattered all his expectations.

“Is it because of my feelings?” And after hearing those words, Toshinori couldn’t breathe.

“I-I know I’m obvious,” Continued Izuku, the confident pro hero of before melting back to the awkward and stuttering young man he had always been, “Everyone had told me for years that I’m incredibly obvious. That I should just confess. B-but I was afraid because I didn’t want to lose what we have, Toshinori. But then you started to distance yourself from me a-and I couldn’t understand why until I remembered that I have always been really obvious with my feelings, and realized you must have realized how I feel about you and felt disgusted o-or like you had to put some distance between us and-” With practiced ease, Toshinori stopped Izuku from going into what he recognized to be the start of a muttering streak by placing one hand on his mouth.

The act had been automatic because his mind was just blank. Trying to process what Izuku had said, what his words had implied, and with his mind, as shortcircuited as it was, it was no wonder that the first thing that came from his mouth was:

“You can’t love me!”

Izuku blinked at him, his cheeks red before taking away Toshinori’s hand from his mouth and saying, “Of course I love you! I’m not lying!”

“B-but you can’t!” Toshinori insisted, his mind slowly coming back online and feeling incredibly lost, “I’m old. And sickly. And quirkless. And you have so much potential, so much life ahead of you… why would you waste your feelings in a useless, sick old man?”

And ah, Toshinori should have known better than to say any of that, because when it came to defending the people he loved Izuku was as fierce as a dragon. And sure enough, after a few seconds of staring at his former teacher in shock, Izuku snapped out of it and in his eyes lighted the fire of determination.

“You’re not useless!” He stated firmly, the hand that wasn’t grasping Toshinori’s coming to hold it as well, squeezing lightly. “And I don’t care how old you are, or that you don’t have your quirk! I love you because you are kind and strong. Because you can smile and say ‘I am here!’ even you don’t feel like smiling. Because you're able to carry on, wearing the world in your shoulders without complaint. Because you are human, and have flaws, and make mistakes, but you do your best to make up for them and continue forwards without letting them drag you down.” Toshinori, breathless as he was from the honest words that seemed to come from Izuku’s heart, once again lost his breath when Izuku added, “I don’t love you because you’re All Might. I love you because you are Yagi Toshinori.”

‘I love you because you are Yagi Toshinori’. Those words rang in Toshinori’s mind as he stared at the green eyes of the man who had just confessed so much to him. Who has been brave enough to open his heart to him, not knowing about Toshinori’s feelings.

It has been stated before that Toshinori was unable to deny Izuku anything. It has also been stated before that where Midoriya Izuku was concerned, Toshinori was selfish. So even though the correct thing would be to turn him down, to avoid letting him become attached to someone with so little time left, Toshinori wound his free hand in Izuku’s hair and brought him forwards in a kiss that, after a brief moment of shock, had Izuku melting into him.

“Toshi?” Izuku murmured in an insecure but hopeful tone after both of them separated, panting for air.

“I love you too, Izuku,” Toshinori immediately said, ignoring the slight shiver the nickname had elicited in him. “I’ve been pulling away because I love you, because I was a coward and feared losing you if you knew of my feelings. I’ve been running away from them but it seems you've inspired me to act once again, my boy,” he added with a rueful chuckle.

"You've never needed help to act, Toshi," Izuku said with a warm smile, "Just a little push, sometimes."

Toshinori chuckled again, knowing Izuku was right, and let himself be drawn to another kiss.

"What the hell did you do with those two?"

Ashido Mina and Uraraka Ochaco looked at their former homeroom teacher and without having to look at each other, gave him the most believable innocent look Aizawa had seen. He would have applauded them if it wasn't because it had been half an hour since the two women had spirited those two away and they weren’t back yet.

“What do you mean sensei?”

“Not your sensei anymore, thank God,” Aizawa immediately replied, “And that innocent look doesn’t work with me. Now answer the question.” The stern tone had the two former students wilt slightly, and Aizawa hid a smile in his scarf as he saw that yes, he still had it.

“Well...” Mina said, reddening slightly and looking away.

“We might have locked them together in a storeroom somewhere...” Uraraka admitted, making Aizawa pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“A storeroom,” he deadpanned. “You locked in a storeroom the two people with strength quirks.” At his words, the redness on the two girls’ faces increased.

He would have kept speaking if he hadn't been interrupted by said two people returning to the party room. One look at them, though, had him wishing he hadn’t worried about them... and that he hadn’t trained so much at noticing the smallest thing in people, because their red faces and tousled clothes told him things about his former student and former colleague that he didn’t want to know.

‘I know I wanted their pining to stop, but I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.’

Meandering back to Hizashi’s side, and leaving the two idiots to the mercies of the two young women who had also noticed their reappearance, he took the blond’s glass and, without a word, drank it in one go.

“Shouta?!” Hizashi spluttered, surprised.

“Power Loader won the bet,” was the only explanation Aizawa gave as he reached for another drink.

“Wait, didn’t Power Loader bet that they would-?”

“Exactly.”

He gulped another drink.

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rideonwings · 5 years

Text

The Raid Mishap - The Aftermath

Chapter 2/2 of The Raid Mishap, takes place after “The Raid”

Title: The Aftermath

Rating: PG-13 for language (I guess?)

Summary: Waking up the next morning (or Hiccup overthinks everything and Astrid’s over his lack of confidence). Mostly just fluff.

Also posted on FF.net.

The first things Hiccup noticed upon waking was the warmth of sunshine on his face, a throbbing in his shoulder, and a solid, familiar body at his side. Because of all these things, he was hesitant to open his eyes and face the day. After all he’d been through in his short life, didn’t he deserve to just stay like this forever? Though the more he considered it, the more he realized…

Ouch.

The throbbing seemed to intensify as his nerves began to wake, and he furrowed his brow. Stupid arrow.

His eyes opened slowly, blinking to adjust to the brightness of the room, the sun streaming in from the hatch he had constructed to let Toothless in and out every day. The door was open and the sky outside was a beautiful blue. The dragon must already be out and about – Hiccup couldn’t hear his heavy breathing. Hopefully he could get out there to join him soon enough - it would be a perfect day for a long flight.

As carefully as he could, Hiccup lifted his injured arm as high as he could from where it rested in its sling. He could only bring about a third of the way to vertical before the pain in his shoulder was too great. With a sigh, he let it fall back to the bed. Maybe no flying today then.

Hiccup then looked down at the woman next to him, her messy blonde hair covering most of her face from view. Still, he could see that Astrid looked stressed even in her sleep, her face pinched and her hand gripping his shirt tightly. Hiccup’s heart hurt as he remembered the concern in her voice last night, that he might be the reason she was upset even in her sleep. He never wanted to cause her any fear, and yet… If he could have made it back to Berk last night without any intervention… but no. That wouldn’t have made her happy either. She just wanted him to stop doing stupid things and almost killing himself.

As he watched her, taking in the soft lines of her face, Astrid began to shift beneath him. She made a small sleepy noise, pulling herself closer to him, and her eyes slowly slid open. She raised her head to meet his eyes, and Hiccup smiled fondly down at her.

“M’Lady.” He said, his voice rough and thick with sleep.

Astrid stared at him for a minute, expressionless. Her blue eyes were searching his, though what they were looking for exactly he had no idea. So he just waited.

And waited.

After a few moments, Astrid pushed herself higher on his chest, so their mouths were only inches apart. Still he waited for her to make a move - Hiccup knew her well enough to know that this could still go either way. She furrowed her brow, still searching his eyes.

“I should hit you.” She said softly, her lips turned into a scowl.

“You should.” Hiccup replied, his good hand reaching through her hair to rub the back of her neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Az.” His voice was soft, thoughtful, careful.

Astrid watched him for another minute before closing the gap between their mouths, breathing him in deeply as she kissed the remainder of sleep from his brain. Lingering against him after their lips parted, she rubbed her nose against his cheek.

“You always scare me, Hiccup.” Her lips ghosted against his skin as she spoke. “You scare me with your recklessness, your stupid bravery, your determination to make sure no one ever has to suffer…. Except you always seem to be the one that ends up suffering.” Astrid drew back, her eyes soft. “I just wish you were even a hair as thoughtful about your own well-being as you are about everyone else.”

“I’m sorry, Az, but it’s an occupational hazard.” He replied with a wry smile. Pulling back, Astrid scowled.

“Don’t quote your father to me, Hiccup, there’s a difference between a calculated risk and a reckless death wish. You’re our chief now, we need you alive.”

Hiccup let his head fall back to the pillow, his eyes searching the thick logs that formed the ceiling of his father’s – now his, though it felt strange to think of it that way – home. Strong and sturdy, just like his father had been. When he was younger, even just a few years ago, he had thought that Stoick was so brave, reckless, impulsive, his actions always motivated by his anger and an instinctive notion to do what was right. Once he began to pick up the reins his father had left for him, he realized just how much calculation had to go into every movement, every action. The village looked to their chief for reason, they trusted him to act responsibly…

He closed his eyes and his hand unconsciously gripped Astrid tighter to him. “Astrid…” He started, swallowing thickly. “You gotta realize… I don’t know what I’m doing.” Astrid shifted against him, resting her chin on his chest. “All those years of rescuing dragons from Viggo and winging it…”

“But we didn’t ‘wing it’, Hiccup.” Opening his eyes to watch Astrid shift into a sitting position by his side, she ran her fingers in circles on his chest. “We strategized. For months, if need be. We drilled, practiced things over and over again. Yes, there was always a certain element of surprise, but when you tell your soldiers what to do, they know to do it. Idiots though they can sometimes be, they will follow your lead, because they trust you.”

Hiccup’s eyes drifted back to the ceiling. “I don’t…”

“Babe, you got hurt last night because you second-guessed yourself when you shouldn’t have. You second-guessed your team.” Astrid leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his temple, similar to the way she had the night before. “You aren’t used to thinking of yourself as a leader yet, Hiccup. But everyone else believes in you, in what we’re doing. They wouldn’t have left anyone behind.”

Strangely overwhelmed by that statement, Hiccup simply reached up with his good hand and cupped Astrid’s cheek. Gently guiding her back down to himself, he tried to shift to meet her halfway only for a bolt of pain to wrack through his side. He flumped back to the pillow, his hand falling to his shoulder.

“Sweet mother of Thor…” He grumbled through gritted teeth. “That bites something fierce.”

Astrid laughed softly in sympathy. “My poor little chief…” She said, leaning down to rest on one elbow by his head. “I’ll make it easy for you.” Leaning over, she touched her lips to his in an act of devotion that spoke more than words ever could. After his mind was good and fuzzy, despite his protests, she slipped from the bed and padded to the kitchen to brew some more willow bark tea. Hiccup allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment, breathing in the remaining scent of her.

He loved Astrid beyond reason, beyond logic. She made him as crazy today as she had years before, his draw to her never waning, always growing. He couldn’t believe she was willing to stand by his side, even after all the craziness, all his hairbrained schemes and misadventures. Even better, she kept him in check. He could always trust her to give him her honest opinion, to call him out when he wasn’t thinking properly. He trusted her opinion above all else.

Slowly dragging himself into a sitting position, he looked around for his prosthetic. Normally he kept it right at his bedside in case he needed it quickly. Astrid knew that, she’d spent enough nights by his side to know it. And yet it wasn’t there.

“Astrid? Where’s my leg?” He called, wincing as he curled his body to look under the bed. “Odin help me…” The pain in his shoulder made his head spin, but he was determined. “Astrid?” He called again, sitting upright and taking a deep breath to push through the pain.

“If you think you’re getting out of bed today, you’re insane.” He heard from the lower level.

“Oh come on, Astrid…” He groaned. “I’ve got things to do!”

“Don’t even try, Gothi’s orders.”

“I’m the chief!” He exclaimed, looking around again in the hopes that maybe she’d just placed his leg out of reach. His mobility was pretty limited, but damned if he wasn’t going to try.

“Tough shit! I don’t care!” Her voice was heated, but there was a touch of laughter to it. Hiccup scowled.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t mad at me!” Frustration and helplessness brewed in his chest, but he felt stupid arguing with air.

“Never said that!” Astrid called from below. “I’m definitely mad at you!”

Hiccup sighed, flopping back against his pillows in defeat. His shoulder stung at the action, but he refused to react in case she could hear him. “What is this mutiny...” He muttered.

“What did you say??” Astrid began walking up the stairs, carrying a large mug. Her brow was furrowed again, but he could tell it was only half-hearted.

“Nothing, my dearest.” Hiccup said innocently, “Though I do think it’s unfair that you’re taking advantage of my disability.”

“I repeat, tough shit.” Sitting beside his bed, Astrid presented him with the steaming mug. Hiccup curled his nose up at it and she laughed at him. “Come on, babe, drink up and you’ll feel better.” She placed the mug on his side table and helped him to sit up. Despite her gentleness, he felt the pain ricochet through his body and bit back a moan.

“I really do hate this stuff.” He stated as Astrid handed him the mug. Hiccup’s hatred of willow bark stemmed from the days after the battle with the green death, where he was forced to drink it multiple times a day to cope with the pain in the remainder of his left leg. He had to drink it so frequently that it made him nauseous, and even smelling it would cause him to gag. Unfortunately for him, he had a particular talent for getting himself hurt, so while he hadn’t needed it to that severity in a long time, he’d never fully recovered from his distaste of it.

“I know you do.” Astrid replied. Still he took a sip of it to appease her, fighting the urge to shudder.

“You’re really not going to let me out of bed today?” Hiccup asked, widening his eyes in a pathetic attempt to win her over.

She smiled at him softly and leaned over to kiss his brow. “Not a chance.” She said. “I’ve already rescheduled your meetings for the day.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but secretly he felt relieved. He felt more worn out than he would care to admit. “Would you at least bring me the papers from my desk? There are a few treaties I need to review.” Astrid nodded, rising from the bed.

“Of course.” She said. “Keep drinking that though.” She started to make her way down the stairs again, her bare feet padding softly on the steps.

Hiccup, feeling overwhelmed at the domesticity of the moment, felt something tug at his stomach. “Astrid.” He called quietly, and she paused, only her head and shoulders visible to him.

“Hm?” She looked at him curiously, searching his eyes again.

“Will you stay with me?” Hiccup asked, feeling slightly nervous in his ask. She was a busy woman, she carried a lot of responsibilities, and yet, he felt an unmistakable pull to keep her close in that moment. “At least part of today?”

Astrid’s face softened and she smiled. Without responding, she descended the remaining steps and Hiccup heard her rummaging around on the lower level for a moment before she returned with a stack of papers, his sketchbook and pencils. She lay the items by his side and nestled in beside him, and, picking up one of the many documents, she began reading it without a word, a soft smile on her face.

Feeling incredibly content despite his pain, he took another long drink from the dreadful tea and placed it back on his side table, pressing a long kiss into Astrid’s hair before picking up another set of papers.

Maybe there were worse ways to spend a day.

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lunacyofdukevenomania · 6 years

Text

Chapter 2-Mikulia Greeonio; Scene 2

The Lunacy of Duke Venomania, page 61-69

Sateriasis awoke inside a carriage.

It seemed that he'd dozed off.

"Awake, are you? You seemed like you were having a nightmare," the red cat sitting in the seat next to him said, gazing out the window without showing any particular concern.

Outside was a vast stretch of countryside. They were close to Abito village.

Sateriasis asked IR next to him how much time had passed since they'd headed out of Lasaland.

"Nearly an hour. There was no need for us to come expressly by carriage."

"I am the lord here for the time being, so it wouldn't look good for me to be heading all the way to a nearby village on foot."

"Getting concerned about something like that at this stage? Isn't you going out unattended suspicious in itself?"

"I guess so."

The young blond coachman glanced back at them briefly while pulling on the reigns.

"…Hey, IR." Sateriasis quickly lowered his voice, whispering to the red cat, "Is it alright for us to talk like this normally? Talking cats aren't exactly something you can find everywhere, at least not in Asmodean."

"Hm? Ah, no problem there. You're the only one who can understand my voice as human words. You probably just sound like a cat-loving weirdo to the coachman up there."

"…That's the problem. Why didn't you come in your girl body?"

"A mysterious girl hanging around by the duke's side will bring up all sorts of rumors. To me it is more convenient that whenever I go outside with you it is in this form."

There would be plenty of rumors just from him having conversations with a cat…Sateriasis considered which he would prefer. Well, if IR said that it was more convenient for her, then he guessed he was fine with it.

The body of the carriage running through the dirt road jumped slightly, as though having run over some large stone.

The Asmodean region as a whole was an area with very little rainfall, but the area around the capital city of Lasaland was an exception; it had much more precipitation than other places. For that reason, there were several farming communities set up near Lasaland.

The village of Abito that they were heading for now was one such farming village.

"Abito Village, huh? …Have you ever been there before, my duke?"

It was a rare question for Sateriasis from IR.

"No…I don't think so. At least, I have no memory of it right now."

Sateriasis' memory hadn't completely returned. Or rather, there were a lot of things that he couldn't yet remember.

He could mainly remember three things.

First, that he had made a contract with the "Demon of Lust" thanks to IR's guidance.

Second, the impetus for that had been a slaughter of the duke's household, and the culprit of that had been none other than Sateriasis himself.

And third, he had contracted with the demon in order to obtain "Gumina".

Nevertheless, even among those three, he couldn't recall the details in full.

Starting with his parents, Sateriasis had murdered his whole family. That was for certain, but even he wasn't completely clear on his motive.

I had hated my family…I think. I can recall those feelings somewhat. But why did I come to hate my family?

Even asking IR, thinking she'd witnessed the whole thing, she would not tell him the answer. Or rather, as she had only come across the incident almost by accident, she hadn't caught the finer details on the cause that had led to Sateriasis' actions.

Only, when IR had first met with Sateriasis in the mansion, he had told her regarding that motive that he'd "wanted to be loved".

Love…Yes, I had loved 'Gumina'. And she had told me something horrible, pushing me away. Could that have been the cause?

Even regarding Gumina, barring her appearance and the fact that she'd jeered at him--he was unable to remember hardly anything about her.

He felt as though they had been acquaintances for a very long time, since childhood. But even that was just a feeling, and he couldn't be sure.

But if she's an old acquaintance, and she had green hair…

Then there was a high chance that she was a relative of his mother's--of the Glassred family.

They're close by, so I guess the fastest way to check is to go visit and ask the Glassred family…Though I'm not too excited about it.

Marquis Glassred--the man who was Sateriasis' uncle--had been on bad terms with him since they'd quarreled over him not having any servants in the mansion.

He could see in front of them a shabby wooden gate, one that looked like it was the gate to Abito Village.

Sateriasis asked the red cat grooming herself beside him, "That girl with the water jug from before is here…that's certain?"

"Yeah, there's no mistake. She--Mikulia Greeonio--is a farmer who lives in Abito Village."

"I'm impressed that you managed to find her in so short a span of time."

"I've got some pull in this country's government. You becoming the lord and duke so smoothly is because I made preparations for it behind the scenes."

IR proudly puffed up her chest. Perhaps she thought she was owed some gratitude.

“Well, you have my thanks. Although I was originally the eldest son of the Duke's family, so I imagine I'd become the lord of the area even if you didn't do anything."

"…You're a naïve fool."

Sateriasis raised his arms and quickly stretched as though trying to shake off his drowsiness.

"Nnngh~ I'm still a little tired."

"That's because you were up all night. …Seems you enjoyed last night. Or should I say 'last night too'."

"Lukana's probably snoring away in bed in the mansion right about now. Yesterday was particularly intense."

"You have some gall, going on all week without stopping."

"Aren't you the one who made me like this? Oh? Are you getting a little red?"

"My whole body is already red!"

That day that Sateriasis had gotten his memory back, and remembered how to use his powers. He had made Lukana's heart his prisoner with the "Demon of Lust"'s ability.

What Sateriasis had gained by the contract with the demon was to be able to ensnare any woman he fancied.

According to IR, once he got used to dealing with it he would be able to make use of that power without having to demonically transform like he did before.

Only, there was a condition to being able to maintain it.

That being that he needed to have intercourse with a woman periodically.

For that reason, if he ever interrupted his life with a woman, the contractor would be taken by an extreme lust, and come to desire women's bodies. When he'd lost his memories Sateriasis had feared that, and kept his distance from those around him.

Sateriasis had thought about taking Lukana as his official wife, make the whole thing public.

But in the Asmodean region, or rather the Beelzenian Empire that contained this area, monogamy was common practice. Even under the commandments of the state religion, the Levin church, it was forbidden to have multiple wives.

To the end, Sateriasis' goal was to obtain "Gumina" and make her into his wife. So he couldn't marry Lukana, and it would have been very inconvenient for it to get out that she was enclosed in his mansion.

When it came to a partner to keep up the demon's power, there was no particular need for it to be Lukana. He could release her brainwashing and send her home. He could work off his lust with prostitutes in town.

Even so, Sateriasis had no intention of letting Lukana go.

I care about "Gumina", but I care about Lukana too. A rule like monogamy is idiotic. What's wrong with loving all the women you care about?

Despite Sateriasis thinking so, he was after all just the lord of a single region. He didn't have the power to change the country's laws.

He was able to make a demonic transformation and make use of a power extraordinary to the average person. However, that was not to the extent that he could stand against the Beelzenian Empire's army all on his own. The "Demon of Lust"'s specialty was primarily in the ability to charm the opposite sex. All Sateriasis could do for now was to hide Lukana deep in his mansion where no one could see her, and drown in his occupations with her every night.

There was a basement in the mansion. It didn't look to have been used in a long time, and Sateriasis had hardly set foot in there since losing his memories. It had no windows and was cut off from the outside world; most ideal for keeping Lukana confined.

The basement had as much space as the first floor, so its size wasn't a problem, but it was a regrettably inhuman and wretched location. Even Sateriasis almost couldn't bring himself to coop Lukana up in there.

Be that as it may, he couldn't have any servants in the mansion, for a different reason from before--so he had to start thinking about some counter measures for that he could do himself.

There was another problem. Soon Lukana's family--her parents and uncle--would notice that she was missing, and start to cause a fuss. He would have to do something about them too.

It was a commonly known fact that Lukana had stayed in Sateriasis' mansion and worked on tailoring his clothes. The way things were going, he would undoubtedly come under suspicion.

Though it seemed that IR had some kind of idea regarding that. Sateriasis had asked her the specifics, and she'd replied that she'd tell him after they'd settled the issue with Mikulia Greeonio.

Mikulia Greeonio, huh?...

The green haired peasant girl.

Why had his magic not worked on her back then?

In order to find out why. And in order to shut up the girl who had witnessed Sateriasis' true form "by any means necessary".

Sateriasis and IR passed under the gate to the village of Abito.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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pass3rby · 6 years

Text

Caught By Your Past

24th Part

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Pairing: Altair x Malik Warnings: modern AU, mature, OOC, original female character; unbetaed.

A/N: Here’s to a better Monday (hopefully)

Even a snail-speed did not stop a development. If somebody tried to put it into a picture show, it would be a night or a hanging-out nap per slide and each would star Altair a bit closer to the bed than the one before.

As much as Malik was trying to keep his annoyed facade going and on, things were gradually changing for them and if he should be honest at least to himself, he didn't do his best to avoid it. He made the exact opposite actually – which meant letting things happen. Therefore, they had trash-talks and they didn't tiptoe around each other. Neither missed the opportunity for a good ribbing; Altair had nagging down to a science and Malik always repaid his affection in kind with a dash of dry & salty on top. His unparalleled claim on the bed stayed respected.

Among other things, the three of them also had a movie night, full of Malik's condescending remarks aimed either at the screen or at Altair who kept shoving his feet on his lap and his sister lording over them both with popcorn thrown at whichever of them she decided deserved it the most at a randomly selected moment; which ended spectacularly with half-a-comforter and the same amount of a passed-out sister on him, exclusive Backpain edition of a Death in The Making and Altair seated on the floor in between his legs, out cold as well.

They still did not “get their freak on” – and thank you, sis, there is never going to be any after hearing you sing-rap… What the even… What was that? Altair nearly laughed his ass off when he heard that one. Must have been something real dreadful then.

It was only a matter of time until this unmanned train took them to another level, though. Therefore, Malik wasn't surprised when one day he found himself lying in his bed with Altair loosely spooning him. Either a lethargy hit his system hard or his brain stopped overthinking everything for that moment; maybe both. But he didn't pull away and neither did he kick Altair off the bed.

Being tense was just a far-off memory now; one muscled arm thrown over Malik's side in a relaxed manner only accentuated the feeling. Random patterns being drawn on his hip... How exactly did they get there? He honestly couldn't tell – or remember. The only thing his mind was able to recognize, be aware of and distinguish was the proximity, warmth and overall tranquil ease of the moment that he was soaking up. Things he grew unaccustomed to overtime slowly settling over his body, then gradually seeping into him.

As sappy as it sounded even in his own head, Malik didn't want to lose this. Not again. It was worth everything, all the costs that went along with it. Like it had been worth it to the very moment he could not keep up. Like the memory was, still.

Recently, Altair's phone came back to life. For the whole span of his visit here the device must've been on plane mode or something, otherwise there would be no reasonable explanation of the phone suddenly blasting various hits through the flat so much only as of late. Malik could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he saw the man use the device before. That sudden trilling mania somehow popped the isolated-reality bubble which formed around the three of them.

The knowledge of the world outside, its existence, was always there; Malik interacted with it all the time, contrary to popular belief. The amount was limited, but there. Intellectually, he got that covered. Still, as absurd as it sounded, that cursed piece of technology set all alarms in Malik's head off. Soon after he realized why. There was still the rest of the world that could concern Altair and worse – that would demand him back. And as much as Malik was sure of his own worth, accepting that wasn't as easy as it sounded. The world was exactly what took Altair away from him the last time, too, after all.

This was nonsense. He behaved like a teenage girl here. They were good and those were just silly phone calls. And if he strengthened his own hold on the arm embracing him a bit so what. It was comfortable, and he fucking liked it.

It was going to be fine, he firmly decided. Suck it up.

Trying to hide the subtle change behind reasoning, he shot off the first question that came to mind.

“What do you do for work anyway?” Coming to think of that, it wasn't a stupid one. What was stupid was the fact that even after three weeks, Malik actually didn't know the answer.

“I'm a BASE jumper.” Fingers kept on drawing yet another pattern into Malik's skin, obviously disinterested in the topic and overall not finding it worth stopping what they were doing. Which perfectly complemented Altair's unphased words. Malik? Not so much. His muscles spasmed and his whole body froze.

Well, Altair never did anything by halves, did he…

His anger simmered forth and an elevated pulse didn't stay far behind. Having to call upon the trademark scowl to get back where it belonged only made Malik register that it was missing in the first place and what an utter wanker!

There was never a better opportunity to drop that pin.

Dear idiot, have you ever heard of the silence before–

Apparently, Altair never did, because he didn't make a mad dash for exit the very second.

A book hit Altair's head.

Fast.

Hard.

“You told me you're staying, you fucker!” Malik surged up, glaring at the liar. Does he honestly think Malik's an idiot who doesn't know what BASE jumpers do to get their rocks off?!

“I am, though!” Altair followed his example and as much as his voice was vehement, his face was painted with a dumbass look. Unsurprisingly, it didn't keep strictly to his face; Malik could almost see the idiocy seeping into the brain matter, too. As if Altair needed any more.

“No, you're not! You travel the whole blasted world!”

Trying to kill yourself in the process!

“Malik, what the hell?!” Self-preservation instincts must've finally kick in, because Altair made a quick escape out of the bed. The temptation of maiming him lessened a bit. For now.

That uncomprehending, confused expression didn't disappear, though.

As if he had any right-

“I've said what my job is right on the first day here. What's so wrong about it all of a sudden?”

Way to make Malik go beet red. Because, unbeknownst to him, the brunette pointed out that it was Malik's own fault. This is what you get for spacing out at a wrong moment. Altair must've mentioned his occupation when Malik was still too busy trying to ride the sudden tsunami wave of…everything when he saw Altair for the first time in twelve years. Not only was he acting like an absolute moron just seconds ago, but he was also frustrated and desperate now – thanks to his own lapse. That was just so–!

He hurled yet another book Altair's way, wishing he could fling it at himself instead.

***

After Altair left to seek safety outside the room, Malik started to gradually cool down. It didn't happen of its own accord; the anger would most probably insist on staying until it burned him up physically just as it had mentally, but Malik wasn't fond of letting anything or anyone control him. He might've had a temporary, weak moment, but it was time to reign the fire back in. Only to find out he had nothing to do.

No, let him rectify that statement. He had loads to do and the only thing that separated him from it was the power button on his laptop. Currently, however, he would only add more errors than corrections. Disgusted at himself for such loss of control, the more motivation it was to recall his unfocused mind back in order. If he ever wanted to regain his mental equilibrium back, though, he had to divest himself of the pressing distraction. And the first step to achieve that was to address the matter. So, folding his arms on his chest, he did.

As much as both him and Altair were stubborn, as much as the room refugee was venturous in his very core, Malik was proud. Not that he didn't have grounds to be. However sometimes, the trait made it hard to admit a mistake of his own doing. He was very careful to avoid situations that would push him into the very act, but nobody's perfect and the recent argument had only proven that statement once again. Malik was adept at owning his mistakes nowadays; he still did not enjoy doing that but was capable of the action. That alone wasn't all there was to the problem, was it.

The real issue was Altair's... job. Hobby. Both, because Altair would not spend an hour of his time on something that wouldn't be worth it to him. Arguing aside; the thing was serious. Dangerous business. Heaps of adrenaline. Exactly what Altair always craved. Malik was no stranger to dealing with this situation. An exact same one. He could swear it wasn't so hard to do when he was seventeen, though. And back then? Altair was far from holding back, too. Those who'd dare to think that him being younger forced some limits on him would be sorely mistaken. He used to dab into all sorts of things anyway which was no wonder, considering his crew of madness.

Ezio was overly fond of walls to the point that indoor wall climbing didn't even register on his radar anymore and instead, he went for urban parkour and freerunning. While Altair and the Italian weren't necessarily joined at the hip – small miracle and mercy spared on Malik – they sure shared similar, if not identical mindsets overall. Kenway would be another rebellious breed; mostly into activities involving water. These two, he and Ezio, were really tight, therefore where Ezio was, Kenway turned out to be nearby as well and vice versa. Therefore, although their diverging hobbies, the guys stole moves and tricks from each other and developed their styles even further down the road. Bec seemed like the least insane of the bunch, but even she had her own brand of crazy. In her case, the calling was technology, which sounded innocent enough. Until Malik witnessed her “fucking around” on a skateboard and glanced off a part of her snowboard-rave holiday trip, documented with the help of her baby drone.

That would be the main influential group of people that surrounded Altair for what seemed like ever since forever. And the teen wholeheartedly inhaled all he could from each one of them and then some, because his own specialization? Heights and jumps. Seriously, if you saw a spot so high your head spun, and Altair wasn't there already? All you had to do was mention the location.

Malik had been fine with who Altair was when they hit it off. He knew the guy equaled a walking, unbridled composition of insanity. They couldn't've been more different and that was fine as well. Thorough the time they've been an item, there were countless occasions where Altair turned up with some sort of injury – bones broken, black eyes, bruised ribs, cuts, you name it. Far from ideal to an outsider and yes, Malik wasn't delighted with all the bloody clothes either. Hell, the medicine cabinet must have gotten more action than he did in total. But when push came to shove, Malik would always accept it.

Accept it.

Malik reverted back into his present self. The one that was now clenching its fists and teeth. Unclenching his hands, releasing them out of the spastic prison, he forced the real issue – the truth out.

He was afraid.

Fear got to him this time around and it was the bone chilling kind, too. It was so easy to believe that Altair couldn't die, that nothing serious could happen to him when he was younger. The teen had pulled through so many failed attempts at whatever; he seemed immortal and excluded that level of confidence as well. Why would Malik worry back then?

Altair still got that vibe going on. The only difference here was, that Malik went with what his brain said much more these days. He was older. He was supposed to be sober-minded; smart. A fat lot of good it did to him here.

He didn't like it, alright?! He. Fuckin'. Didn't. BASE jumping was hazardous – at best. It was something Altair obviously had to do, loved to do, though. So, in the end, it didn't really matter what Malik thought. This wasn't about whether Altair would stop, quit the job for him or not. It was about Malik deciding to either go and tell Altair to fuck off or apologize and hope for the best.

He took in his whole room. The rackety chair still stood on all four, his books were sorted precisely the way he left them, there was no secondary background sound, only the wind sweeping through the trees outside.

Neither here nor there, that's where Malik stood at the moment and for the next couple of minutes. Then, done with the limbo, he bit the bullet, leaving the door open as he marched forth.

***

Of course this would be when it all went to shit.

Altair had no idea what exactly provoked Malik to such extent, but that didn't mean the result would disappear. He was still in the kitchen and Malik was still in his room.

Until he wasn't.

Hearing a noise behind him he spun around only to end up with a chest full of Malik's forehead. This was certainly unusual. No matter, he was far from refusing the gesture and what it meant. Wrapping his arms around the man, he was just glad that whatever that previous outburst was for, it was gone and done with; over.

Not that he wasn't interested in finding out what caused it; Malik wasn't one to lash out for something trivial. Altair sensed it was better to let it be, though. If and when Malik would want, he'd tell him. Of that, his sorry exiled ass was sure. The man was the least person to keep his mouth shut if he didn't like something, Altair thought with certain amount of affection.

“Wanna go grab a coffee?” They were bound to separate any minute now, so he might as well rid them of any possible awkwardness.

“Got to get my phone,” was a mumbled reply before Malik began pulling away. Altair didn't stop him.

“I'll wait by the door.”

#cbyp #assassin's creed #altmal #Missy Elliott reference in this one #deal

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trashy-fujoshi-blog · 6 years

Text

ライアーダンス CHAPTER 3

V3 Spoilers as always.

POST-NDRV3 Virtual Reality AU Fanfic.

CHAPTER ONE HERE

CHAPTER TWO HERE

Kaede Akamatsu could tell there was something between the two boys. She wasn’t sure what exactly yet, but there was something… And whatever that something was, Saihara seemed to gain more confidence everyday, and Kaede was grateful for whatever Ouma was doing for her friend.

She knew Amami was pretty grateful too, because the two spoke often, being on the same floor and what not. Kaede was pretty certain Amami had noticed something too, because sometimes she’d catch him talking to Saihara, and she was 100% sure Amami was teasing him, but in a way that would help him clear his thoughts and confusion.

Obviously she shouldn’t condemn such antics, but thankfully, whatever Amami said to the detective that meal time, it’d helped knock Saihara out of whatever thoughts he’d been stuck in for days. Kaede knew, knew that the detective was probably over thinking something, and Amami had probably helped out, because that’s the kind of person he was, he was like a big brother to the two boys… That’s how Kaede saw it anyway.

Amami… was still quite a mystery to her though. She knew a little more about him now, after their time spent together, but she still couldn’t understand him entirely. But he was nice, he was nice even to her, even when she’d tried to kill him, despite everything… and he was too pure for any of them.

Kaede Akamatsu felt 100% certain she didn’t deserve the kindness of Amami Rantaro.

///

Maki Harukawa was lost.

Not physically, of course, but mentally.

There’d been so much confusion when she had awoken, and she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.

The feelings she had, feelings she thought she’d never feel, feelings she was told were fake… what were they really? Were they really fake, simply spurred on but the events in the simulation, or, despite everything, did Maki genuinely like the idiot Kaito Momota?

She had no idea.

It took a bit of coxing from her carer, the young photographer Mahiru, before Maki finally took the initiative to leave her room.

It only happened once though, and Maki found herself in the presence of Kaede Akamatsu that gentle April afternoon, early on when they’d awoken.

It was… okay, it was fairly nice, because Kaede could relate to her, to an extent, and her presence alone seemed quite calming, like it came naturally to the pianist, to soothe those she was around.

It was only a brief exchange, and after that Maki retreated to the confines of her room, with Mahiru and Mikan being her only visitors, the photographer bringing her food when needed, and trying to act as some form of support, but with little success.

It took quite a bit of time with her thoughts before Maki could firmly say she had a clear grasp on what thoughts and feelings were real and what wasn’t. She couldn’t be indecisive with her thoughts, based on her talent, there was no room for unsurities. She could conclude, yes, she did like that space idiot, and no, she didn’t entirely blame the shorter brat that had used him in the simulation, in his crazy scheme to end everything.

Maki Harukawa could firmly say, she was ready to face everyone, face Kaito, face Saihara, face Yumeno, face Ouma… and Tsumugi.

Her appearance in the dining hall that morning sparked shock, from the six occupants, two of which were maybe just possibly fighting over a slice of toast like petty children.

“Harukawa!” Saihara spoke in surprise, and Maki gave a curt nod in greeting to the detective.

“Eh… Little Miss Assassin makes her appearance, at last~!” Ouma taunted, returning to moving his hand in all sorts of crazy uncoordinated directions, clutching a slice of toast Kiibo tried desperately to grasp, but unable to due to Ouma’s constant uncoordinated movement.

“Ouma! Gimme it back!”

“Nahhh~ c’mon Kiibo surely you’re not completely useless even as a human?”

“That’s rude! I’ll have you know-”

“Ehhh excuses!” Ouma butted in.

“Hello Harukawa.” Amami waved a hand, having not know the girl entirely well during the sim, and not having clear memories of any of their exchanges from before said time.

The final two occupants in the room, besides Saihara, Amami, Ouma and Kiibo, were Iruma and Korekiyo. Korekiyo seemed content to sit at the side and observe everyone silently, and Iruma seemed too busy fiddling with some odd device to notice anything around her, including Kiibo and Ouma’s squabble or Maki’s entrance.

“Hello Amami.” Maki replied, taking a seat at the table, feeling slightly uncomfortable being opposite the supreme leader, who’d finally given up, tossing the toast back to Kiibo, instead taking to leaning on Saihara, sipping silently at a carton of juice, eyes baring deep into her soul. Finally he stopped, tore his gaze away, and up to Saihara.

“”Shuuichi-chan I’m boreddddd.” Ouma pouted, and Saihara just sighed. Maki raised an eyebrow, since when did Ouma refer to anyone by their first names?

“Is that your way of telling me you’d like to leave, Ouma?”

Oh so it was just Ouma, Saihara wasn’t in on it? Maki just shook it off, it was probably Ouma just being weird.

“Yup~ Ah Shuuichi-chan knows me so well~” Ouma beamed and Saihara just shook his head. He couldn’t figure the boy out, but it’d been four days now, since the boy's memory returned, and he realised his gay ass feelings for the boy. Ouma had also insisted on calling him Shuuichi now, which made Saihara’s heart flutter when he heard it, but he’d not let him know that obviously… Not to say Ouma hadn’t worked it out, but Saihara wasn’t sure.

“If you say so, Ouma.” Saihara mumbled, standing up, to help the shorter boy up. It turned out that Ouma’s trip down to the dining hall a few days ago, wasn’t actually a wise choice on Komaeda’s part, as his legs still weren’t 100%. It didn’t do any damage per say, but Ouma had felt a bit of pain the day after, and could barely stand because of it. So he still needed support to walk, and he was only allowed down to the dining hall twice a day, nothing else, the rest of the time, Hajime had told him he had to remain in his room to rest his legs. If by the weekend check up, he’d showed signs of improvements, then he’d have free reign.

Ouma used this time for breakfast, and mostly closer to night-time, because he liked that it was quieter at that time.

Ouma just gave a simple nishishi, grabbing the crutch he still had to use, other arm slung around Saihara’s neck (which was slightly awkward considering Saihara was taller than him.)

“Bye bye Little Miss Assassin~ try not to miss me too much?” Ouma gleefully spoke, missing Maki’s brief concerned look, as he departed with a small limp, Saihara holding him on his feet as he did.

Amami noticed this look though.

“He can’t walk properly, that’s why Saihara helps him out, apparently he underwent too much physical stress.”

Maki frowned. That was probably her fault wasn’t it?

“He didn’t even get his memory back till about four days ago.”

“Memory..back?”

“Oh you don’t know?” Amami asked in surprise, and Kiibo used this time to butt in.

“Ah Amami it might be best if you don-”

But Amami continued, unaware of the whole Kaito and Maki thing, including her talent to which he’d never actually been told.

“Some people don’t actually have any memories other than like… fake ones made in the Sim? Like.. Pre-Killing Game? I think that’s what Saihara called it. Anyway, Ouma didn’t know anything true except his own name till Saihara worked his magic.”

“Who.. Who else?”

“I believe Shirogane, on the 6th floor, and Tojo and Momota? They’re on the 12th floor. Ouma was the only one who didn’t react violently due to the memories. Apparently he was quite the opposite, he was really reserved and when me and Saihara tried to see him, he was really upset at being in the same place as us.”

“The other three are under constant supervision, and react violently when they can. Apparently Momota actually managed to injure one of the staff members recently, by faking an improvement in his condition, to be trusted enough with cutlery. Stabbed one of the female staff members in the leg with a fork.” Kiyo mumbled from the side, and Maki’s eyes widened. Kaito.. Had done that?

“Oh where’d you hear that?” Amami asked curiously.

“The girl who checks up on me. She’s quite detestable, and she lets infomation slip too easily.” Kiyo replied, and Kiibo let out a splutter.

“Th-That’s rude!”

“It’s true though.”

“Momota… doesn’t remember?”

“No, I’m sorry Harukawa. Myself and Iruma are helping out the best we can too!” Kiibo admitted, with a faint blush, because goddamnit that girl was distracting more than helpful, and she was also still completely engrossed in the device in her hands to listen to her being spoken about.

“Do.. do you think I could see him? I might be able to help like Saihara did? I.. can handle myself.”

Amami just gave a quizzical look which Kiyo cleared up.

“Ah. You don’t know because it was revealed after you died. Harukawa is the Ultimate Assassin.”

Amami just blinked once, twice.

“Oh.”

And then he gave a nervous chuckle, because what Ouma called her as he left made sense now.

“Well I’m sure you could handle yourself then.”

“You reacted quite well.” Maki commented and Amami just shrugged.

“What can I say, I hang around enough abnormal people to just not get surprised anymore.”

Iruma finally paused enough to notice Maki.

“Eh. I haven’t seen you around. Where have you been hiding Harukawa?”

“...”

“Suit yourself. If you’re wanting to see that idiot though, I know just the person to ask.” Iruma added, and Maki narrowed her eyes with interest.

“Ir-Iruma are you suggesting-?” Kiibo spluttered and Iruma smirked, giving a nod.

“Exactly.”

///

And that was how Maki Harukawa met Komaeda Nagito, a.k.a The Original Little Shit

Apparently Komaeda wasn’t actually staff of either Hope’s Peak or the Remnants of Future Foundation, he was just here because of Hinata Hajime, and just seemed to be breaking rules left right and center because he apparently didn’t give a shit for order? That’s the impression most of them had of him by now. Komaeda did hang around Hope’s Peak quite a bit, but he just got away with a lot of things and Maki had no idea what to think of the guy.

“Harukawa is it?” Komaeda asked, and Maki nodded.

“You’re wanting to see Momota… Even after I told poor Saihara no, twice.”

Maki blinked. Saihara had tried to see him too? It made her feel a bit better knowing the detective hadn’t lost that courage the astronaut had helped bloom.

“Yes.”

“Okay~”

Maki just blinked.

“That easy?”

“Yup. You see, I just have an inkling that these guys that don’t remember, just need someone to kickstart their memories. Worked for Kokichi, so…”

And apparently Komaeda was on first name basis with Little Shit 2.0

Made sense.

“So you’re thinking I’m that someone for Momota?”

Komaeda just nodded.

“I watched most of the game, since it broadcast back to the monitors. I even have an inkling for the other two.” Komaeda gave a sly smile and Maki had to stop herself from shuddering at the sight of it. This guy was.. Not normal, he made her feel on edge, and he seemed quite capable of pulling off some dangerous and insane shit.

How was there someone worse that Ouma in this world?

“Yet you’ve not said anything?”

“Of course not. Everyone’s hopeful enough without my ideas. It’s nicer to see you guys form your own hope, than have it forced upon you by me.”

Maki just frowned.

“But luckily, I happen to have been classmates with the two with Momota, and I’m sure I could convince them, so just give me a bit of time.. Say..2 hours?”

Maki just blinked. Did this guy have that much faith in himself? Or was his faith placed in something else?

///

As it turned out, Komaeda convinced Pekoyama Peko, and Nidai Nekomaru, that Maki could see Kaito, if she didn’t get to close, and the two of them, and Hajime Hinata had to be present. Mako wondered what Hinata could do, considering she’d seen him and he looked pretty weak to her?

She’d been informed, however, that he had a large array of talents, due to some messed up project from a few years ago, before everything fell to shit… which was partly his fault.

So, accompanied by a swordswoman, a huge ass guy who looked capable of killing someone with his pinkie, and the scrawny form of Hajime Hinata, Maki finally got in to see Kaito Momota.

////

“Shuuichi-chan~”

Saihara just looked at the boy in question, eyebrow raised, as they exited the dining room.

“Harukawa stayed in a room with me for more than 5 minutes without a threat on my life!” Ouma said, eyes sparkling in fake excitement that had Saihara roll his eyes at the boys antics. He suspected the boy had wanted to leave before Maki found out about Kaito’s condition, since Saihara was certain the girl would find some way to pin it on Ouma, and well... They didn’t need that in their lives at the moment, they already had enough burdens.

“I’m worried about her though.” Saihara admitted and Ouma sighed, as they reached the elevator, which had finally been fixed.

“Shuuuuichi-chan.” Ouma extended the ‘u’ vowel as he spoke, stopping for a moment before continuing to speak.

“You can’t help everybody y’know. Sometimes you have to look after yourself too!” Ouma commented and Saihara’s face went blank.

“Don’t try and hide it from me. You can’t hide that sort of thing from a Liar like me, y’know?” Ouma continued, as the number above the life slowly traveled downwards.

12, 11, 10, 9…

“I.. I-” Saihara didn’t have any excuses. It was just how he felt. He’d no issues with helping others, while staying silent about his own problems, because that’s the kind of person he was. Saihara Shuuichi was too considerate of everyone else and it was slowly killing him.

8...7...6...5

“Look after yourself more.”

4...3...2..

“I’ll try.”

..1

Saihara didn’t hear Ouma’s muffled thank you, as the doors dinged open for them, but that’s okay, because Ouma didn’t want him to hear anyway.

///

Despite everything, the Detective and the Supreme Leader still both slept in Ouma’s room, it was just one of those things they didn’t want to stop, mostly because it was comforting to have someone there, to tell them everything was okay, and that they weren’t in that horrible school, every time they awoke disoriented and scared.

It was usually Ouma that struggled with the nights to be fair though, it wasn’t often he did wake up, but Saihara was there regardless, he was a light sleeper so 9 times out of 10 he awoke to Ouma’s distressed noises, ready to assist in anyway he could. Maybe it was Maki’s appearance that brought the weight of everything back to Saihara, that even if it wasn’t reality, he failed to protect anyone, everyone had died before him, after he’d promised to continue Kaede’s wish, and even now he felt pretty helpless. Kaito couldn’t remember a thing about him… or anything for that matter. Saihara was finally starting to feel the pressure, because he felt the need to help everyone out, to aid in anyway he could, because it was the least he could do.

What kind of detective was he, letting everyone die before him? Letting himself be deceived and lied to without realising? Why didn’t he have the answers he needed? Why had he given up so easily?

On top of that, how could he even call himself the Ultimate Detective if he had to wait for someone else to tell him what he’d been feeling for Ouma? How did he not even realise his own feelings?

Saihara didn’t sleep much that night.

Ouma fell asleep pretty quickly, loosely wrapping himself around Saihara, because for some reason the Supreme Leader was a clingy sleeper. Saihara did eventually drift off, sometime in the early hours of the morning, but the only thing that greeted him was horrific nightmares.

It had started out quite nice, the 16 of them in Hope’s Peak, quite cheerful and happy if anything. And then Tenko had turned to face in, neck dripping in blood, eyes drawn in accusation at him. Saihara whipped around in desperation, only to come face to face with Angie, her too dripping in blood, finger pointed at him, besides Amami, who held a hand to his head, blood trickling through his fingertips. Slowly but surely everyone around him began to point or glare at him accusingly, the friends he’d tried so hard to help all glared at him like it was his fault, bodies reflecting the injuries they’d sustained before their deaths.

There was too much blood, and Saihara couldn’t escape, no matter how far he ran, they were always right behind him. Somehow, in his endless running, Saihara began to recognize his surroundings as the dreaded Prison school, and he could tell from the dark colours and whirring of machinery where he had wound up, from the press that lurked in the corner, two of his friends stood beside it, feral expressions littering the faces he knew would never look like that. Even as Saihara struggled, there was no way to resist the 13 students who shoved him forward, and the two who lurked beside the press, one grabbing each arm, hoisting him forward towards the metal he never wanted to go near again. Resisting did nothing though, and sure enough, Ouma was hoisted onto the slab, still trying to break free from the arms that held him into place. It was in the briefest of moments, that Saihara wondered if Ouma had been just as terrified, laying here, knowing what was to come, before the fear and panic overtook him once more. He knew this wasn’t real so why couldn’t he wake up? Why couldn’t he alter it? Why? When the heavy metal of the press finally dropped down, towards his struggling form, it ended.

Saihara bolted up from the bed, muffled scream from his lips, breathing uneven, hand shakily reaching instantly to clasp at his chest, as he tried to take in the oxygen he so badly needed. He could hardly breath, and the darkness of the room had him hyperventilate further, he was okay but his brain couldn’t accept that, it was still driven by fear and panic, and Saihara couldn’t function, he couldn’t move, all he could do was sit there, tucking his knees up, willing away the tears that made him have to choke back sobs, still unable to calm his breathing.

Why couldn’t he escape?

Why would it always be there in his mind?

Why couldn’t he just forget?

Saihara shuddered, breath hitching as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He managed to pick out the blurry form of Ouma, himself slightly disorientated, awoken by the noise Saihara made. The shorter boy had placed a hand on his shoulder, as to not spook him, there was silence between the two, as the supreme leader finally moved forward more, wrapping both his arms around Saihara, tugging him forward and into the smaller boy’s chest.

“Shuuichi it’s okay. Breathe for me, yeah?”

Saihara could only shake his head. He couldn’t- He couldn’t do it. Ouma didn’t give up though, one hand moved to calmly run his fingers through Saihara’s hair, combing it softly, the other to the stark pale face of horror and fear that was pressed against his chest, small fingers moving to wipe away the tears on the detectives cheeks.

“Shuuichi please.” Ouma asked again, and Saihara tried to take a shuddery breath, his shoulder jittered, and all he could do was make a feeble noise as he tried to inhale before exhaling sharply.

“There we go. Keep that up, breathe in.” Ouma mumbled, and Saihara followed in suit, finding it a tiny bit easier to gulp down the air he needed so desperately.

“And breathe out.” Saihara exhaled, calmer this time, but still unable to stop himself from letting out a sob, one he’d tried to contain.

“Shh, it’s okay Shuuichi, I’m here, okay? You’re safe.”

Saihara nodded, letting the boy know he’d heard, opening his mouth to try and speak, but only managing to let out another choked noise, hands moving up to clamp over his mouth, shaking his head wildly against Ouma who simply sat holding him.

“Don’t worry. You don’t need to rush. I’m not going anywhere, take your time, Shuuichi.”

Eventually, Ouma’s words and actions helped Saihara calm down, relaxing slowly but surely, in Ouma’s hold, his breathing evening out to a normal rate. Then the silence came.

That was the first time Ouma had ever woken up because of Saihara. Usually the detective could keep himself quiet and under control, but it’s likely the constant stress the Detective was silently enduring had finally caught up, and it had become too much to contain. Saihara was more than willing to care for Ouma when he awoke in a state, but it was the first time Saihara had ever disturbed the Supreme Leader. He felt like shit for disturbing the boy who already didn’t get enough sleep, and now he had just disrupted him with his pathetic panic. Ouma said nothing, and didn’t let go of Saihara either, even after he’d calmed down enough to breathe properly.

“You think too loud, Shuuichi-chan, I can hear you from here.” Ouma mumbled, the typical chan returning down the boy had calmed down considerably. Saihara didn’t notice the lack of honorific in his panic. Saihara just looked up, and Ouma sighed at the obvious guilt the detective was reflecting in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault Shuuichi-chan. I promise.” Ouma mumbled, trying to get the Detective to stop looking so guilty.

“B-But I woke you up- and-”

“So? You never complain when I wake you up. You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes y’know? If you feel lost, remember everyone in this building is here for you, okay?”

Saihara could tell Ouma was acting quite different than normal, and his voice slightly reflected that of the boy he’d been before his memories returned… Was it possibly the two personalities had merged?

“Bu-But-”

“No but’s. You’re allowed to put yourself first.”

Saihara just gave a weak nod. He didn’t want to, not when people were relying on him, or when people had bigger issues than him, but Ouma’s demanding tone made him consider trying at least.

“Now, you’re going to lay back down, and sleep, and if you wake up again, I am going to be right here for you, okay?” Ouma asked, one hand moving down to clasp at Saihara’s, squeezing reassuringly. Saihara just nodded quietly, complying with Ouma’s orders. As the detective slowly fell back asleep, he said nothing, reassured by the silent yet ever present squeeze of Ouma’s hand.

The boy didn’t have anymore nightmares that night, and by the time morning rolled around, Saihara woke up, and actually felt pretty rested, hand still held loosely by Ouma’s. The boy was already awake, staring at him curiously.

“You okay Shuuichi-chan?”

Saihara nodded, faintly embarrassed at the events of last night. He’d been so close to Ouma, and he’d looked so weak, after he promised he’d be strong for everyone.

“Good. Now let’s get you some food, that’s the best cure for feeling uneasy, don’t you know?” Ouma asked and Saihara furrowed his brow. It was?

“What time is it?”

“Like.. 3pm.” Ouma mumbling and Saihara never bolted out of bed as fast as he did that day.

“Ho- What the hell, why didn’t you get me up sooner?”

“Silly Shuuichi-chan. You needed sleep. Who cares what time you wake up? It’s not like we actually have anything to get up for at the moment, we’re stuck here till they sort out the others guys memories.”

“Bu-But-”

“You can’t risk your own safety to help others. Kiiboy and Iruma are doing what they can already, and you helped a lot, don’t you remember? You helped me, and you helped Kayaday and Amami too. You help us all without even knowing.”

“I- I do?”

“You do.”

“If you say so.” Saihara wasn’t overly sure he’d done anything to help, he didn’t feel like he had anyway but Ouma didn’t appear to be lying.

“Now, shall we get some food or not?”

Saihara nodded. He felt pretty hungry even though he’d only just woke up, and it did sound like a nice idea to head down to the dining hall at this time, since it’d probably be empty.

///

It wasn’t actually empty, but it was near enough. The only person in the room other than the two of them was Angie, who greeted them cheerfully but paid little other attention to them, too busy sketching with one hand, and nibbling on a sandwich in the other.

“Now, let’s find something for you to eat?”

Saihara just gave a nod. Did the Supreme Leader even know how to cook?

Apparently he did, and Saihara couldn’t help but be a tiny bit impressed at the boy, a small smile making his way onto his face, at the sloppily presented but rather tasty omelette the shorter boy cooked up for him.

“It’s probably not as good as what Tojo could make..” Ouma trailed, he kind of missed the maid, since she was pretty convenient to have around, and she did kind of feel like the mother he should have had but never did.

“It’s perfect Kokichi.” Saihara muttered, quickly shoveling it down, not even noticing his slip up with Ouma’s name. Ouma noticed though, and even if he was a master at deceiving people, he couldn’t deceive himself, tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment, because goddamn it he wanted Saihara to call him that all the time if that’s how the word sounded from the detective's mouth.

“No problem Shuuichi-chan.” Ouma smiled, a genuine smile that had both of them feel just a tiny bit happier in their rather complicated lives.

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