#clinically unable to shut his mouth for 5 seconds so sad

[whump-captain]

- Day 21 -

Prompt: “Please”

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@crash-bump-bring-the-whump​ i believe u said u wanted to see Ethan begging? here he is begging (◡‿◡)

this is probably longer than it needs to be but i had lots of fun writing the dialogue for once lol

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CN: restraints, broken bone (pre-established), interrogation, strangling, torture, cutting, scalpels, hair grabbing, tape gag, bag over head

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Ethan gasped when the bag was ripped off of his head. The light, though dim, was enough to make him wince after what felt like hours in the dark. He blinked quickly, trying to force the world back into focus.

The first thing he felt clearly was a grip of rope around his arms. His stomach sank. He lurched forward and the chair scraped on the bare floor. Pain shot through his arm, dispelling the haze completely. On instinct, he raised his right hand to shield himself and froze in surprise when he succeeded.

He was only tied to the back of the chair, not the armrests. The rope went around one of his biceps, then behind his back, and then around the other. It wrenched his shoulders back uncomfortably but still, a wave of nauseating relief washed over him. They didn’t tie down his broken arm.

A shadow fell on him and drew his gaze up. Ethan shuddered when Linde gave him a tight-lipped, professional smile.

“Good morning, Ethan,” Linde said. His voice was smooth and amiable but in his eyes was a glint of something cold and dangerous, like frostbite creeping through dying tissue. Circling the chair, he nodded his head towards Ethan’s arm. “I’ve done you a favour, as you can see. I’m hoping we can have a constructive conversation.”

Anger lit up in Ethan’s chest and made his face flush. How dare this man say that to him? After barely letting him speak the last time, after causing him so much pain?

“Me, too,” he hissed.

“Constructive and honest,” Linde added. “Lying only wastes both of our time.”

“Yeah.” Ethan’s voice shook like the rest of him. But behind the cracked lenses of his glasses, his gaze was hard. “But you’re the one who’s lying.”

Linde stopped his pacing. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t really believe I’m a spy. If you did, you’d turn me over to someone, or you’d- you’d kill me.” Ethan barely managed to get those words out. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Linde regarded him, his face unreadable. Ethan fought to keep his breathing even, hating how clear it was that he was afraid. He set his jaw tight and met the other man’s eye defiantly.

Finally, Linde turned. He tapped his fingers together behind his back, falling back into his slow prowl. 

“You’re perceptive,” he said. His small smile almost looked satisfied. “No, I don’t believe you’re a threat. If I did, you’re right, I would eliminate you.” He took a step forward and Ethan flinched. “But I see through you. You think that you’re above the consequences of what you do. You’re arrogant.”

“What?”

“You really thought you could infiltrate one of the most secure places in North America. You thought you could just… Walk in. And lie your way out of it.” Linde sounded almost offended. He lifted his chin slightly. “It’s about the principle of things. If I allowed something this brazen to go unaddressed, what kind of officer would that make me? Hm? If I didn’t find out the truth before turning you in?”

He leaned in close and all air seemed to leave the room. His shadow on Ethan’s face blacked out reality and pulled Ethan back through time, into the memory of agony.

“You’re wrong,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I didn’t infiltrate anything, you brought me here!” His voice rose and then cracked as his throat constricted. “You’re the one who’s arrogant because you refuse to listen to anything I say! I told you the truth, you’re just too stubborn to realise it.”

“Brazen,” Linde repeated. He seemed to savour the word. “I told you, I can see right through you. No matter how well you lie.”

He drifted to the other side of the room, where shadows outlined the shape of a table. Even though the distance between them grew, Ethan’s heart beat even faster now.

“Why do you need me to say anything, then?” he asked. He dug his fingers into the armrest to hide their trembling. “You made up your mind, you’re happy with your story, just turn me in, then. Let me talk to someone above you.”

“Like I said.” Linde ran his hand along the table’s surface and something clinked. “Principle. I don’t just want the truth. I want it from you.” 

The sudden force of his stare made Ethan recoil. Something cold crystallised in the air between them. He recognized the cold in Linde’s eyes and it made a hollow pit open in his stomach.

“Let’s start simple,” the captain said, taking a leisurely step forward. His hands were behind his back again. “How did you get to this island, Ethan?”

“On a boat.” Even the short sentence made Ethan’s breath come heavy. “It’s on the eastern shore, you can check.”

“Good. Now, how did you know where to find this island?”

“I- I followed a radar.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his breathing even. “There was an anomaly registered by a weather station on the mainland and- I followed that. It didn’t lead to the island but the- the area around it. I- I didn’t know it was here. I almost crashed.”

Linde lowered his head and gave a quiet sigh. ”Weather station,” he repeated, almost amused.

“Yes! You can call them, they’ll tell you what time I left, which boat I took out, it’s all on the record.”

“You’re very thorough.”

“And you’re not!” The chair scraped forward with the force of Ethan’s shout. “Because you refuse to do the bare minimum to verify your claims and find-”

Linde seized his throat. The impact strangled Ethan’s words and pushed his head backwards.

“I was honest with you,” Linde said quietly. “Civil. And in return, you don’t just lie to me, you start insulting me.” His grip tightened. “I thought you were a smart man, Ethan, don’t make me change my mind.” 

Ethan couldn’t struggle. The rope held him fast, Linde’s fingers dug into his skin. With every torturous second, his lungs compressed, fighting, until it felt like they were on fire. His mouth moved soundlessly around smothered cries. Burning white danced in his vision, blurring everything into a cacophony of melting colours. A horrible buzz filled his ears - his own rushing blood. He barely heard Linde’s words:

“Let’s move on.”

Ethan strained pointlessly, he couldn’t reach the hand choking him. His fingers clawed at the air. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t run, he couldn’t breathe. 

Linde spoke loud and his voice ripped through the static in Ethan’s head: “You think I’m wasting time, let’s cut straight to the chase. Who sent you here? And choose your answer very carefully because, believe me.” He leaned in closer and squeezed Ethan’s throat, fingers like iron bars. “My patience is running thin.”

Then he released him. Ethan choked on a gasp and immediately convulsed in a coughing fit. Air forced itself back into his body and every breath made his chest feel like it would burst. He couldn’t stop his voice escaping, he wheezed and groaned with every involuntary, fitful exhale. Linde stood motionless, watching him. Waiting. 

“I wasn’t- sent here,” Ethan choked out finally. His throat burned, the pain of the forming bruises enclosed his windpipe and made every word hurt. “I’m not here for- whatever this place is. It’s the truth.” It wasn’t a shout anymore, but a plea. He fought for breath, fought to stay afloat in his own battered body. 

Footsteps made him look up. Linde’s silhouette doubled and swayed before him, turning back towards the table. When he came into focus, he was holding a scalpel.

 “Wait.” Ethan’s voice cracked. “You- you don’t have to-” he stammered. “Please, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Linde grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched his head sideways. “I thought it was simple.” He brought the scalpel close to Ethan’s neck. “I want you to tell me who sent you.”

“I was- I’m- I-” The metal reflected in Ethan’s wide eyes. He was shaking so much his glasses slipped down his nose. “The- Th- The CIA! Fine? The CIA sent me, you don’t have to- Please, don’t do this, I’m-”

“Now you’re just making things up,” Linde said.

He sliced down, across Ethan’s clavicle. The blade parted fabric, skin, and muscle like paper. Ethan screamed, his body twisting with tension. Linde pulled his head back by the hair and cut open his shirt, exposing the deep wound. 

“That’s the first,” he said. He sank the scalpel into Ethan’s shoulder and dragged it slowly down. Metal scraped against bone. Pain burned through Ethan’s mind, forced a ragged, stuttering howl out of him. His breathless groans almost drowned out Linde’s ice cold voice when he finished:

“And that’s the second lie you’ve told me.” He tilted the scalpel and more blood poured out of the widened cut. “Are you still with me?” He brought his face close to Ethan’s. “Is this a waste of time?”

“Stop,” Ethan gasped. “Please. This is all- a mistake.” His breath hitched, words fragmented into high-pitched, desperate noises of pain. Linde’s eyes shone like a snowstorm.

“I’m losing my patience.”

The next cut was diagonal, crossing over the already damaged skin. Ethan’s scream rose and then faltered, he convulsed in the restraints. The blade tilted again and ran slowly just under the skin, slicing it away from muscle - one side, then the next. Lines of living fire spilled through Ethan’s body, one after the other, emerging with each new stream of thick blood pouring out. He could only sob now, his throat raw and lungs empty. He had no time to breathe between the cuts.

“Tell me.” Linde’s voice was no more than a hiss. “Anything.”

Ethan could barely see. The pain blurred everything into a red haze.

“Please,” he whispered.

The grip on his hair tightened. The added tension made him groan as the scored skin shifted. Then it disappeared and his head lolled forward. The room spun. Footsteps mixed with the pounding of Ethan’s heart in his ears.

Something made a loud scraping noise and then Linde said: “I’ll let you think about it.”

He pressed a strip of tape over Ethan’s mouth. Ethan wheezed desperately, his breath hitching against the barrier. Another cry died in his throat and only made it out as a muffled whimper. 

Then Linde put the bag over his head again. He said: “This can come off when you’re ready for a constructive conversation.”

When the next incision came, Ethan couldn’t even brace for it.

#wij23day21 #whumpmasinjuly2023 #whump #whump writing #whump ocs #oc whump #torture whump #interrogation whump #captain's stuff #captain's ocs #kintsugi #im a strange kind of pleased with this one lol #the prose is kinda w/e i think bc i rushed it a bit and was kind of just letting myself get into a flow #but i like the concept and the scene and for once the dialogue lol #ethan my love how the hell else did you expect this to go you are insulting the guy who tortured you to his face #clinically unable to shut his mouth for 5 seconds so sad #it's weird writing this version of kintsugi bc i developed it mostly in a completely different direction for the feature length story #and like i have a much better grasp of Ethan as a character now #but also Linde has been like Completely reworked and his motivation is entirely different #but i did that bc his role in the feature story is different #whereas here he's still mostly The Whumper™ #and he's not meant to set up nearly as many future plot points and such #anyway #have some Ethan torture i should write it more often lol

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 2 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul's been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS' finances, Paul's comfort levels, and Gene's libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter:  "What do you mean, what else was I doing? I woke up with tits! Don't you think that's a little fucking traumatizing?" Gene and Paul try to pinpoint the root cause of Paul’s predicament.

          Gene carried the groceries in for Paul. It felt like the lousiest apology, but he didn’t know what else to do. Paul looked as if he were seconds from tears—pretty horrifying, for Gene to try to realign his whole thought process, to try and reconcile the Paul he’d known for the last eight years with the pretty brunette currently slumped over the kitchen island—and Gene didn’t know how to mitigate that, either. Paul wasn’t much of a crier. Under the circumstances, though, Gene couldn’t exactly blame him.

           “I shouldn’t have done that.”

           “Forget it.”

           “Look—I thought it might be you from the tattoo, but I had to make sure—”

           “You made sure, okay? You definitely did that much.” Paul’s elbows were resting on the counter. His mouth was pressed against his clasped hands, muffling his words. “Fuck it, Gene. You were supposed to just write me back.”

           Gene rolled his eyes.

           “Yeah, you cut off contact with everybody a month before we go back on tour, and then you send me a two-sentence postcard and expect me to act like a fucking pen-pal. C’mon, Paul.”

           “Well, obviously, I didn’t want you coming over! You think I wanted anyone to see me like this? I already had to run Peter off!”

           So that had been him earlier. Shit.

           “How did this even happen?” Medically, it was impossible. Paul probably hadn’t had this little hair on him since he was ten years old. To say nothing of the drop in height, or the total reconfiguration of his body shape. He still looked pretty similar in the face, same big brown eyes, same slightly crooked chin and full lips, but the features were a little softer. Really, he looked like a good bit like his older sister, although Gene knew better than to mention it. Paul hadn’t seen Julia in at least three years.

           The guys had always made fun of Gene for his lack of discernment, and he knew there were plenty of women that looked like dogs dotting his photo albums, but Paul was—actually kind of pretty. Or would be, if his eyes, always a little sad-looking, weren’t all watery and his mouth wasn’t glued in that firm line behind his hand. Even Peter, who, oddly enough, probably had better taste in women, looks-wise, than any of the four of them, had said Paul was cute. And the tits—shit, Gene was distracting himself. Paul had taken his time answering anyway.

           “How should I know how this happened? I woke up like this!”

           “When?”

           “Wednesday morning.”

           “That’s five days. You’ve been like this for five days?” Before Paul could answer, Gene added, bewildered, “Have you gone anywhere?”

           It wouldn’t have surprised him much if Paul had holed up in the house the entire time. He did that enough normally. Gene could understand that, to a point. Gene never knew what to do with himself off-tour, either, except get laid, but Paul usually added a healthy dose of self-pity on top of the lays. Given what had happened to him, he’d probably been feeling sorrier for himself than usual.

           Paul surprised him by bringing his hands down from in front of his mouth and nodding.

           “I drove to Peaches yesterday.”

           “You drove?”

          “You think I could’ve convinced my chauffeur I was Paul Stanley?”

           “Might have an easier time with him than you would a cop.”

           “A cop? I’m a great driver—”

           “You don’t have a license right now.”

           Paul’s lips pursed and he went quiet for a while. Like the full magnitude of his situation had only just dawned on him. Not that Gene wasn’t sympathetic. This was going to screw him over, too. The new tour a month away, and their frontman not only entirely unable to prove his identity, but—really, assuming he got the other guys and their management to believe him, what was he supposed to do? Strut onstage in that sequin-studded jumpsuit, singing about the dick he didn’t even have? Even Bill Aucoin couldn’t spin a story about Paul getting a sex change into anything close to palatable for the magazines and papers. If they didn’t get this shit fixed and turn Paul back into a guy, KISS was sunk.

           Gene let the silence hang in the air rather than try to fill it up with small talk or reassurances. He got up and started taking Paul’s groceries out of the paper bags, just to give his hands something to do. A wrapped package of deli meat, several cans of Tab, a bunch of celery, and a loaf of sandwich bread were all that was in the first bag. The groceries of a depressed catalog model, not a rockstar. He put it all up in the pantry and fridge unceremoniously. Paul didn’t have a breadbox, so Gene left the loaf on the counter next to the sink. The second bag of groceries was just as dismal, maybe worse—peanut butter, saltines, apples, and, horrifyingly, a box of Kotex. Shit. Had Paul already given up on going back to normal, or—

           “You’re not on the rag, are you?”

           “Fuck, no. Put that back.” Paul was going crimson. Gene felt sorry enough for him to drop the Kotex back into the bag and return to his seat across from him at the kitchen island.

           “Are you planning to just wait around for it? Haven’t you done anything yet?”

           “Gene, I don’t know what to do. I did get some books sent over.” Paul got up and went to the living room, returning with some paperbacks under his arm, which he dumped on the kitchen table. Usually, Paul’s reading material consisted of teenybopper magazines with his face on the cover, contracts, and his own unflattering comics of his bandmates. Now Gene found himself next to copies of The Lesser Key of Solomon, The Secret Lore of Magic, and LaVey’s The Satanic Rituals. He could’ve sworn the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up just from cracking the spines. Gene tried to swallow his nerves as best he could, tried to look at the whole deal clinically, never mind what years of yeshiva and the start of rabbinical school had taught him, but every sigil-covered page made him feel a bit ill.

           “You haven’t tried any of this, have you?”

           Paul snorted.

           “Fuck, no. I’m already going to hell, there’s no point in expediting the trip.” He blew his bangs out of his face with a breath. They settled back in front of his eyes almost immediately, and he shook his head. “I just wanted to read up. I thought if I could figure out how it happened, I could get someone else to reverse it for me.”

           “Like a witch.”

           Paul flinched slightly.

           “Well, yeah, since that’s probably who did it in the first place.” He was standing behind Gene, reaching over him and pointing at the book he’d opened. “Oh, it’s in this one. Hang on.”

           Gene shifted obediently, trying to ignore the feeling of Paul’s bare chest pressed against his back. He knew Paul wasn’t coming onto him, not consciously, at least, but—fuck, the last several years on the road had spoiled him. Every chick he got near wanted to get laid, if not by him, then by one of his bandmates. But Paul wasn’t actually a chick, a fact made all the more apparent by how utterly oblivious he was to the fact that his bathrobe was halfway open, again.

           He handed Paul the book. Paul was thumbing through it before long, in his usual way, licking his finger with every pageturn. Gene could see the remnants of black nail polish on his fingernails—still aggressively manicured—and a couple of marks beneath his knuckles.

           “What happened to your hands there?”

           “Huh? I bit them.”

           “Why?”

           Paul shrugged and cleared his throat.

           “Anyway, found it.” He pointed to a passage alongside a lithograph of a lion head. “‘Marbas, alias Barbas is a great president, and appeareth in the forme of a mightie lion—'”

           “Paul, the e on the end of ‘forme’ is silent.”

           “Shut up—‘he bringeth diseases and cureth them, promoteth wisdom’…. It’s in here, I swear—there! ‘He changes men into other shapes.’ So that’s probably the demon that whoever it was conjured up.”

           Paul looked more than vaguely pleased with himself. Gene almost felt bad for not being impressed. Almost.

           “That’s all you’ve come up with this whole time.”

           “It’s only been five days, Gene, I—”

           “What else were you doing?”

           “What do you mean, what else was I doing? I woke up with tits! Don’t you think that’s a little fucking traumatizing?”

           “You had—” Gene just shook his head.

           “I don’t have anything, Gene. You said so yourself. I don’t even have access to my own bank account. I’m done once the cash runs out.”

           Gene started to ask how much cash Paul had on hand, then thought better of it. Probably not a whole lot. Paul had the annoying habit of charging everything he could to either the label or the KISS Corporation proper while they were on tour, and not letting anyone know until the following board meeting. Off-tour probably wasn’t much different.

           “Did you make a list?” he asked finally.

           “A list?”

           “A list of anyone you think could’ve done this to you.”

           Paul shook his head.

           “That’s the thing. Nobody I know would’ve wanted to do this to me.”

           “Then maybe it’s someone you don’t know.”

           “Like who? Gene, what good does it do anybody if I’m stuck as a girl?”

           “Revenge. You have any exes into the occult?”

           “Not that I know of.” Paul cocked his head, considering. “Mostly they break up with me, not the other way around.”

           “Groupies, then?”

           “Gene, I don’t—take notes on every girl I fuck, it’s not that important to me.”

           “Did you get with anyone strange lately? Maybe, I don’t know, a cult member or something?”

           “I don’t think so—”

           “Anyone ask you anything weird? Or try and get a lock of your hair?” Gene’s knowledge of the occult was limited, but he did vaguely remember needing—what was it, the person’s clothes or hair before any magic could be done on them. At least, that was how it worked on Dark Shadows.

           “That happens every tour at least three times.”

           “I’m trying to figure this out for you.” God. Paul had had almost a week that he could’ve spent seriously researching his predicament, and all he’d done was buy a couple of books, send Gene a postcard, and sit around moping. “Did—”

           “There was this one girl who yanked out some of my chest hair a couple weeks ago,” Paul said slowly. “I didn’t really think much of it at the time. I thought it was, y’know, a kink thing. It was cool, right, kind of a you’re the boss deal—”

           Gene winced.

           “Did she say anything?”

           “She said she was going to make me feel like she did.”

           “And you didn’t think that was strange.”

           “No! It was while we were doing some S&M shit!” Paul’s face was going slightly pink. “It was fun! You go on tour and you end up with a lot of real desperate virgins and groupies with V.D. and none of them really—they just wanna do what you want, they don’t wanna ever take the lead, and this girl, she had me up against the—”

           “I get the idea,” Gene snapped, although he didn’t at all. He wasn’t picturing the encounter as it’d happened, just Paul as he was right now, up against the wall, breasts heaving, one long leg hooked around his waist. Fuck, was it hard to look at him. Gene had never been ashamed of his own lasciviousness until faced with the one person who noticed it and needed it least. “Okay. We’re going to get this taken care of.”

           “How?”

           “I’m calling Ace.”

           “Ace?” Paul was almost squeaking. “Don’t call Ace!”

           “Relax, I’m not gonna tell him what happened.”

           “Then what are you—”

           “Just trust me, Paul.”

           Gene got up and walked over to the kitchen phone. Paul looked as though he were about to argue, but then he just shook his head, watching carefully as Gene punched in Ace’s number.

           “Hey. Hey, Jeanette, this is Gene. Is Ace around? Let me talk to him for a second.” Gene rubbed the back of his head with his free hand while he waited. He could hear Jeanette calling Ace over, and a little shuffling, just before Ace picked up the phone.

           “Hey.”

           “Hey, Ace.”

           “You find Paulie?”

           “Yeah. Yeah, he’s fine. I’m at his house.”

           “What was he pulling that prima donna crap over, anyway?”

           “He’s…” It was hard to talk to Ace casually with Paul staring at him. “He’s fine. Just paranoid.”

           “Paranoid? Why?” Ace sounded a little disbelieving. Gene couldn’t blame him. “He didn’t start on some shit, did he? Thought all he took was white cross.”

           “He’s not on anything. He’s worried about the tour.” Gene paused. “You still go to that psychic, don’t you?”

           “Sometimes. Why?”

           “Do you have her number?”

           “Gene, you don’t believe in psychics or any of that—”

           “Yeah, but Paul does. I thought I’d make him an appointment, ease his mind some.” Gene watched Paul’s brow furrow, one corner of his mouth lifting up in a wary expression.

           “You’d make it for him?” Ace’s tone was dubious. “I’ve got her number somewhere. Let me find it.”

           Gene heard rustling in the background, and Ace asking Jeanette where the address book was. Jeanette said something in return, and then Gene was almost worried they’d both forgotten about the call until he heard Ace’s high voice back on the line.

           “Okay. Her name’s Suzie, she’s got a little office over in the Bronx if you wanna pop over in person. I dunno the address, though, you’ll have to call.” Ace rattled off the phone number as Gene scrambled for a pen and paper. He had to settle for a napkin. “Hey, could you tell Paul to call up Peter sometime? He’s getting kind of worried.”

           “Yeah, I will. It’s nothing personal.”

           Ace laughed.

           “Pete ain’t gonna believe that secondhand, you know that. See you, Geno.”

           “Bye.” Gene hung up the phone. Paul got up from his chair.

           “You’re getting me an appointment with Ace’s psychic.”

           “Yeah. Do you have to check your dance card first?”

           “Psychics can’t reverse curses,” Paul said flatly.

           “Do you have a better idea?”

           “No.”

           “Then you’re going.” Before Paul could protest, Gene snatched the phone off the hook again and started dialing. “Get dressed. I’m pretty sure she’ll be willing to pencil you in quick.”

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #gene simmons x paul stanley #paul stanley #gene simmons #ace frehley #peter criss

[airquietworks]

Hearts vs. Heroics or: How Uravity Surpassed the World’s Greatest Hero (IzuOcha) (Part 7)

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6  Chapter 7: Into the Abyss

Somehow, confronting Deku to converse in an empty hallway felt more nerve-wracking than confronting him to battle in front of millions of viewers. 

The boy in question remained slouched and loose leaning against the wall, keeping his focus down towards the floor. Ochako frowned at the image as she pushed herself backwards and held onto the wall opposite him, anchoring her weightless self. The air was still, the sudden quiet of the hallway somehow suffocating between them.

He looked so…defeated. Unsure of himself, like he had often been when she first met him. It was a far cry from the heroically imposing figure he was in the ring a few short hours ago.

She did not like it. Especially because it was her fault he looked that way.

With that thought, Ochako breathed deeply and knew what the first words between them would have to be:

“I’m sorry.”

Deku swung his head upward at the sudden apology, his eyes wide in surprise at the words.

But Ochako did not allow his reaction to give her pause. She looked directly into his green eyes, refusing to look away as she answered for her offence. He had to know she was sincere. She refused to show any trace of her rattling nerves and risk them mitigating her apology.

“I did not want to win like that,” Ochako stated solemnly. “I wanted to win by fighting you head-on. But what I said was completely out of line. I...I didn’t even realize what I was saying.”

The words started to tumble rapidly from her lips. Even as Deku’s face fell, his mouth moving into a disappointed frown, she plowed through her explanation. She had to get this out, whatever the consequences.

“And then you got distracted and I kept attacking anyways not even…I didn’t know,” Ochako murmured, her words starting to fail her as the explanation dragged on. “I didn’t mean to do it, but it’s still my fault. I wanted to fight you properly, not win with something so…so…underhanded.”

The gravity hero bowed her head, her eyes meeting the grey metal of the floor. She took another breath as she worked hard to keep her composure in front of him, despite how her heart clenched painfully in her chest.

“I hope you can forgive me.”

There was a moment of silence. It stretched ominously, a cold stone of dread sinking deeper into her gut with every second that passed. She felt herself start to drift upward in her weightlessness before reaching back awkwardly to push herself down against the wall.

All the while, she waited for his response, unwilling to glance up at him until she had it. She pushed down the urge to tremble. Her mind took its first steps into a dark, endless spiral of ‘what-if’ scenarios for how she would react if he responded as badly as he should. He had every right to be angry, after all, and she should be prepared.

“Uraraka…it’s alright.”

His voice was coldly docile, void of the anger and frustration she expected from him. Rather, there was only melancholy, his voice sombre in his acceptance.

She looked up to see his smile, small but still prominent on his face. It did not quite reach his eyes, but it was better than any reaction she could have hoped for.

“I was the one that lost my focus. That’s my fault, not yours. There’s nothing…” he paused, the word catching on his tongue. “Nothing wrong with what you did.”

Ochako wished she could feel relief at the statement, but the sad look in his eyes and the lack of conviction in his voice prevented that.

“But Deku, that was-“

“It’s not an unreasonable tactic,” he assured her. But his voice was dispirited, akin to the clinical heroic analysis he was known for. “There’s nothing wrong with throwing an opponent off with words, like Aizawa said. I know you did not mean it and it’s fine, Uraraka.”

“Deku…” Ochako murmured gently. He kept his eyes focused away from her as he spoke. Clearly, something was still really bothering him. She was not truly forgiven — not that she deserved to be.

“You….I…” Ochako stammered, trying to find the words. “What I did was wrong. That’s…that’s not the kind of hero I want to be. I know I can’t fix what I did, Deku.”

“Uraraka, really, there’s nothing wrong,” Deku stated firmly, exasperated. He smiled at her again, but it was apparent he was forcing it. “You didn’t mean to say it. It’s fine, really!”

His voice cracked, the words coming out in a squeak, rushing as if tears were about to leak from him. She moved a hand forward, instinctively wanting to reach out and comfort him. But she stopped herself, fearing such an action would only make things worse.

“I’ll find a way to make it up to you…if you’ll let me.” The words came through with difficulty as she felt her own throat get a little choked up. She fought back the water edging at her eyes, refusing to start blubbering through this.

“But…I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“No! Uraraka, gosh I…I…” Deku stated with more force, his eyes finally meeting hers again, his own hand outstretched towards her. He stopped, his throat bobbing as the two stared at one another. Confusion stood prominently on both their faces. Ochako wished desperately she could take the uncertainty away from him, somehow.

“You what, Deku?” Ochako asked simply. She clenched her hands at her sides, bracing for the worst.

Deku put his hand back to his side. He took a breath and his hand started to shake a bit. She noticed a heavy blush started to stain his cheeks and he darted his eyes away. His voice was quiet as he spoke, forcing Ochako to strain her ears to hear.

“I…I understand if not but...did you really mwant what you said?”

The hidden meaning hidden beneath his shaky uncertainty hit Ochako like a bolt of lightning. Her heart started racing as the pressure of his statement swept over her, freezing her in place as she tried to formulate a response.

Deku was not so worried about losing the fight. He was worried about her feelings.

It had not even occurred to her he could see the confession itself as anything less than genuine. In her mind, dealing with the confession itself had become secondary to making up for the act of confessing in the midst of combat.

Ochako bit her lip and clenched her fists. There was no more delaying to be done about it.  There was just her, Deku and her love for him hanging between them.

She realized she could try to end it here. Run away from those feelings again and deny them, move on and chase the easygoing normalcy of friendship they had before. Deku would probably buy into it, or at the very least, accept it, if he was not too upset with her. It might be difficult to go back to the way things were, but it would at least be a clear picture to go after.

There was no certainty if she continued to act on her feelings for him. She did not even know if he felt the same way. Pursuing her love was a leap into the dark abyss of the unknown, and her skin felt clammy as the terror of the prospect loomed over her.

Ochako took a deep breath to steady herself on the precarious edge she stood on.

She did not want to keep her heart chained up anymore. Whatever might come, she knew now her love did not have to be a stumbling block to doing heroic deeds.  If her love did not prevent her from headbutting Deku in the face, what could it possibly stop her from doing?

Trying to keep her feelings sealed away had caused her so much grief and anxiety. It seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

She had to take the plunge.

With all the courage she could muster, Ochako squeezed her eyes shut and nodded with enthusiasm, her hands clenched balled into fists at her sides. She kept her eyelids shut, not daring to look and see his immediate reaction.

“I…I don’t understand why…” His words were uneasy, keeping Ochako glued awkwardly to the edge. She slowly opened her eyes to see him, staring at her, suddenly a step closer, his lip quivering in fear.

“But…but I talked about it with…someone and I…I owe you a response!’ Deku shouted with sudden force, his voice stuttering, his hands shaky at his sides. The skin on his face was completely engulfed in a tide of red. 

Ochako held her breath, daring to hope.

“I...I…I love you, Ochako Uraraka!”

There was no fanfare to his words, spoken a little more loudly than strictly necessary. There was no romantic atmosphere to be found in the empty, grey hallway. The only light shining down on them came dully from the fixtures overhead. This was not the romantic confession movies were made about.

Nevertheless, she could not stop the rise in her cheekbones, forced upward by the surging force of her smile. She felt lighter than air, her fears fading into the background, as if vanquished by a radiant light. The overwhelming sense of joy roaring within her pushed everything else to the side.

Unable to resist, Ochako pushed herself off the wall and glomped him, pushing him back a couple of steps with the weightlessness of her body. He stumbled back awkwardly, back banging against the wall as she buried her face into his shoulder, but he managed to catch and hold onto her securely.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” Ochako whispered into his shoulder. She pushed off a little from his chest to look at his face, chuckling a bit at his shocked, slack-jawed expression.

It seemed like there was light at the bottom of the unknown abyss.

She gave him the most dazzling smile she could muster as she uttered her response with all the happiness inside of her.

“I love you, Deku!”

It felt wonderful to be able to say those words, the weight of her fears gone in a flash. Her heart felt free, no longer struggling to rattle in her self-imposed chains. There was only the vibrant, chaotic swell of happiness, which she chose to relish in. This was a precious moment, one she might never experience again.

She watched his mouth open and close like a fish as he struggled to respond. She laughed again at how overwhelming it all was. In truth, she felt just as lost as he was in the moment – but decided to dive right into the unknown rather than let her love keep causing her to stumble. 

“Uraraka…” Deku finally managed to squeak words out after losing his voice to the romantic onslaught. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Deku,” she replied brightly, her voice filled with her natural bubbliness. It had been too long since that had been easy to summon.

“Why is it that you…you…love me? I just…I just don’t…” Deku murmured, his voice pensive. “I don’t understand why you’d feel that way.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, searching his face. There was doubt there, no smile on his face to match hers, his face still very flushed. There was the shy boy she had met during her first day of school.

But Deku had gained a lot more confidence as the years went on. She was not sure why he was reacting this way.

“I just..” Deku continued, seeing the question in her eyes. “I never really considered anyone would feel that way about me. Girls would look away from me in middle school and I just figured…since I’m kind of a…”

“A dork?” Ochako supplied, her voice mirthful, trying to impress it was not something she saw as a negative.

Deku cracked a smile at that, which Ochako was grateful for. “Yeah, that. I had kind of written off the idea of someone falling for me. Maybe after I went pro, and by that point, I’m not even sure how I’d manage the time. It honestly was not something I thought I could plan for.”

Ochako sighed at him, keeping her hands pressed against his chest. It always baffled her how he could not see the greatness within himself. Such was the downside of his drive to continuously improve.

“You’re the kindest, sweetest guy I’ve ever met, Deku,” she spoke earnestly. It was not the first time she had told him this – and as it always did, it made his face flush even more. “You’re an easy guy to get along with. Being with you just makes me happy.”

“Uraraka…” Deku whispered softly, voice reverent in response to her honeyed words.

“You always pick me up when I’m down. And the drive you have to be a hero is just incredible. You’re one of my biggest inspirations, Deku.”

She was getting a little flushed herself at this point as Deku’s eyes grew wide as saucers, tears welling up at the edges of them.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Ochako stated warmly, wrapping her arms around him best as she could and putting her head into his chest. He went rigid at first, his heartbeat racing, but he slowly loosened up and wrapped an arm around to her back. “You’ve…you’re just amazing, Deku. I really tried to contain it, but…I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”

It was so liberating to let it all out to him. After so long trying to disguise her feelings from him, her heart felt so much lighter within the confines of her chest.

She watched in good spirits as Deku started to bawl, suddenly squeezing her to him. She let out a squeak, but sunk deeper into his embrace, her skin getting tingly from the hold.

“You’re…you’re the incredible one,” Deku murmured into the top of her head, tears streaming down to tickle her hairs there. “Gosh, Uraraka, I…I…”

He could not summon the words from amidst his blubbering and settled on squeezing her tighter to him. They stayed like that for a little while, just holding one another. Ochako sighed as Deku’s heartbeat started to slow down. It soothing when it was peaceful and steady. She could see herself falling asleep to this.

As Deku’s tears started to fade into sniffles, he spoke again, whispering just above her ear.

“I wouldn’t be where I am today If it wasn’t for you, Uraraka.” His voice sent pleasant shivers down her spine. Her skin pimpled at his gentle, intimate voice, and she found herself captivated by it. “Your determination, how you wear a smile no matter how bad things are…you make me want to be a hero like you. You’re amazing, Uraraka.”

“Deku…” she whispered in response, keeping her face buried in his chest to try to hide her flushing face. His unmitigated praise of her never failed to put her at a loss for words. It was a wind beneath her sails, but still made her want to cover herself for embarrassment.

But as their racing hearts started to slow, a nagging issue still buzzed in the back of her mind. However, the warmth of the moment acted as a shot of courage, allowing her to utter the question with greater ease.

“Hey, Deku?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you really not mad about our fight?”

He pushed her off of his chest to hold her at arm’s length, looking down into her eyes. The nerves were gone from his gaze, replaced by conviction and accompanied by a reassuring smile.

“I’m not mad about the fight, Uraraka. I get it was an accident, and I was the one that lost my focus. It’s okay.”

His honeyed words were lovely, but did little to satiate the buzzing in her mind.

“But what about your future! You lost so much because I did something so silly and-“

“Uraraka, it’s going to be alright,” he cut her off firmly, gently stroking her back in a calming gesture. She looked up at him with wide eyes, wishing she could just lose herself in his embrace instead of worrying about their fight. 

“One of us had to lose out. There was no helping it,” Deku explained. “I am disappointed in myself for losing like that, but I’m not going to let myself get hung up on it. Like Aizawa said, there are many roads to becoming a hero, and he’s right. I’ll just work that much harder to convince the pros I’m more than what I showed in the ring.”

“Deku…” she whispered, beaming up at him. There was the indomitable fire she had fallen for. Once again, he found a way to surprise her with his determination.

A part of her wished the moment between could have lasted forever. For those precious minutes, the rest of the worries of her world faded into oblivion. She was overwhelmed, but she did not mind it in the slightest. It was heavenly.

But for a hero, duty would always come first.

“Would Ochako Uraraka please report to the waiting area?”

Ochako let out a miserable sigh and disengaged herself from Deku. She reluctantly pushed off of him, the two letting their hands brush against each other's arms as Ochako floated over to the other side of the hall.

“I should probably get going.” Ochako did nothing to hide her reluctance but tried to mitigate it with a genuine smile.

“Yeah, you’re going to be in tough,” Deku nodded a little awkwardly. But he kept his eyes steady and gave her a fiery stare. “But I know you can do it, Uraraka.”

The two exchanged determined grins and Ochako pumped a fist in the air, letting out a cry of enthusiasm. “Right!”

Deku chuckled a bit but extended a fist out to her. Ochako eagerly punched into it, initiating their trademark handshake. But their hands lingered together at the end, fingers gently intertwining. She was not sure who started it, but she suddenly found herself reluctant to let go.

She looked up at him for a suggestion, but there was none to be found. His eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes betraying his nervousness, the smile running away from his face.

They had confessed to each other…but what could they do now? What did that mean for them? How should they even bid farewell to one another?

Mercifully, Deku managed to take the next courageous step forward, even if he could only manage it with a deep blush on his face.

“Hey…when this over…do you want to…maybe…go out for something?” Deku stammered, his hand suddenly letting go of hers, flying back to scratch at his neck.

“For something? Like…like what?” Ochako felt her own cheeks get a little warmer as she realized what he was getting at. She gulped as she thought about it. The act of sorting out confessions had been a mountain to climb. She had been unable to see what lay beyond it…and now that she could, it sent a whole fresh round of nervousness through her.

“Like…out to eat something. Somewhere…nice?” The way he pushed through the question made her laugh, but there was a nervous edge to her own voice. He tried to laugh with her, but it did not seem genuine. He was just as terrified as she was.

“Are you…are you asking me out on a date, Deku?”

“NO!” Deku exclaimed reflexively at the question, before his brow furrowed as he realized how that sounded. “I mean…yes! Or at least…if you want me to be?” Deku’s voice cracked as he tried to explain himself, suddenly unleashing a storm of rambling at her. “I mean I guess that was my intention but I understand if you don’t want it to be that way I just thought since you said you loved me and I love you it made sense but I get it if-“

Somehow, his rambling made the burden of her own nerves lighten, as she let out a genuine peal of laughter at his strange habit. He really was bad at this – just as bad as she was, in many respects. But if they were going to be terrible at this whole being-in-love thing, at least they could be terrible together.

“I’d love to, Deku,” she managed to say earnestly, even if she was pretty sure her face was going to combust any second.

“Great!” Deku exclaimed, his voice pitching up an octave, the sweat visible on his face. “We’ll…we’ll work it out after, I guess. But you should get going.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ochako nodded enthusiastically, buoyed by the prospect of going out on a date with Deku. It was terrifying, but exhilarating at the same time.

She looked down at her splinted left leg and frowned, knowing she’d have to get some help taking it off in the waiting area. Resolved to head there while still floating, Ochako prepared to push off and head straight for it.

But as she glanced back towards Deku, his wide green eyes and gentle smile making her heart skip a beat, she got an idea.

A wild, crazy, incredible, awful idea.

Her face was burning, but she let her mind hold hard to the impulse that had befallen her. After all, it was what people in love did…right? Somehow, despite how incredibly frightening the idea was, she wanted to try it.

Besides, she had already climbed over the looming mountain of confessing. How bad could it be to take the next step?

Her thumping heart was spurring her forward. If there was one thing she had learned, is that she could trust it a little more. Her idea was probably the next step in her own personal pursuit of happiness. And that was a road she had decided she would keep walking down.

“Hey, Deku. There’s…there’s something I’d like to try with you. If that’s okay?”

“Uh…sure, Uraraka.” His uncertain voice told her he had no idea what she was getting at. “What was it you-“

Ochako pushed off from the wall and floated fast towards him. She was in his arms before he knew what was happening. As Deku caught her and tried to recover, she pressed her lips to his.

There was no magic in the moment. No choirs of angels singing or overwhelming bliss from the connection of their lips. It was the awkward fumbling of two teenagers who had absolutely no idea what they were doing.

Deku was still as his statue, his eyes practically bulging out of his sockets in shock at the gesture. Ochako pressed her mouth hard into his, but only managed to get the upper half of his lip given how imprecise her headlong rush into him was. She tried to readjust herself, but the lack of reciprocal energy from him made her abandon the attempt.

As she pulled away from her frozen friend, she touched a hand to her lips, feeling the moisture there. She looked up to see his mouth open wide, slack-jawed. His eyes were out of focus, unaware of the world around him.

“Um…sorry about that Deku if that was…too soon,” Ochako scrambled to explain herself at his complete non-reaction. Was it that bad? “I just thought…well…I wanted to try it. And I thought it might be good luck for the fight, you know?”

She looked up imploringly at him, bringing her hands together nervously in front of her, hoping she had not shot their relationship in the foot just as they were taking their first baby-steps into romance.

“I…I got kissed by…by a girl…” Deku’s words came out in a disbelieving whisper, so light and airy that Ochako could barely hear them.

“What was that…?” Ochako blurted out, leaning in a little closer to try to confirm what Deku was saying. The gesture made Deku bump his head back against the wall in panic.

“That was…that was…FINE!” Deku shouted suddenly, with a little too much force In his voice. “Good, it was good, Uraraka! I didn’t mind at all!” He stuttered, laughing nervously, trying to recover from his earlier mental shutdown.

“Deku..?”

“Good, good luck, makes sense!” Deku continued to ramble, his mind barreling down train tracks to nowhere. “Yes, a kiss can be good luck! I don’t mind!”

She touched a finger to his lip to interrupt him. He stopped, his cheeks inflamed as he held on for her word.

“We’ll call a mulligan on that one,” Ochako suggested, flashing him a nervous grin. “Maybe that was a little much for now?”

Deku gulped but nodded slowly in reply, responding with his own nervous smile. “Yeah, maybe…”

“Next time we kiss, we’ll make it better!”

“Yeah, you’re right!”

The two smiled enthusiastically at each other, nodding in unison, energized by their friendly agreement. But the haphazard words and the promise contained within them, quickly removed the grins from their faces as it sunk in.

“Um…I mean, only if you want to! I mean, eventually, I think it’d be a good idea,” Ochako said quickly, speaking energetically with her hands.

Deku could not even manage that much, burying his tomato-red face deep into his hands. He poked his eyes above them and nodded in reply, not daring to blurt out anything else and risk making things worse.

Ochako groaned miserably, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing desperately this awkwardness between them could vanish. Navigating the descent into the unknowns of love was going to be a pain.

But as she opened her eyes again to see Deku, frazzled beyond belief, lips tugged slightly upward in a nervous smile, a blush still staining his cute freckled cheeks, she realized it might not be so bad. After all, she would be navigating the lovely abyss by his side.

And together, she knew the two of them could conquer anything.

“Hey, Deku, can I try one more thing? I promise it won’t be as drastic.” In watching his nervousness, she managed to steel herself and took a small hop over to him.

“Uhh…sure I guess,” Deku mumbled, scratching his chin and bracing himself for the worst. His eyes suddenly focused intently on her, as if she was sizing her up as a combatant. She laughed at his serious face as he tensed up, bracing herself.

Without another word, she leaned up and pecked him lightly on his left cheek, right above a dense cluster of freckles.

“A little more to our pace, right?” Ochako suggested cheerily, finding some delight at his dumbfounded expression. “Thanks, Deku. For everything.”

“…Don’t…don’t mention it,” Deku stammered, blinking rapidly and touching his hand to his cheek.

“Alright, I better head off for real this time.” She fully disengaged from him and started to drift down the hallway, ready to face the challenge ahead.

“Good luck! I’ll be rooting for you!” Deku called out from behind her, his voice rising into a heartier tone as he recovered from his stunned state.

Ochako turned around briefly to see him waving at her, beaming brighter than the sun despite his still-red cheeks. It was a beautiful image, one she wanted to commit to memory.

Her heart was ablaze in the darkness of an unknown future. But she knew she had to believe in her ability to figure it out. It is what would make her happy, in the end.

She pressed herself forward, pushing off of the ground towards her next horizon. Gravity had no hold over her. And with that, she knew she would get over any obstacle, no matter what it took.

Her name was Uravity, after all. A hero who never gives up.

Author’s Note: Thank you to Kingdom Lightz for editing this. Well, that is (almost) a rap. The story has reached its original planned endpoint, but I do plan to deliver an epilogue. Thank you all so much for the support you have given to this. ^_^ It has really helped inspire me a great deal and I am endlessly appreciative of it all. There WILL be an epilogue to this story, but I am not entirely sure when it will come out. I have some other projects I will be devoting my focus too before I get around to the epilogue, but stay tuned. Please leave a reblog and/or like if you enjoyed! =) 

#izuocha #my hero academia #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #shipping #fanfiction #Hearts vs Heroics #boko no hero academia #confessions #OTP #THESE CHILDREN