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#he bares the weight of magne on his shoulders and now hawks?
vulpixtodoroki · 4 years
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Mayhaps I just started crying
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feeling-uncomfy · 3 years
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Am I spamming? Yes. Do I care? Not really, I'm having fun so- sorry you're at the brute end of my restlessness.
This was definitely inspired by "paranoia party" by Frances Forever. Its a bop.
There are some warnings-
Alcohol mentions (aka Hawks gets drunk and makes bad decisions.
There's some implications of sexual assault, please be cautions while reading
There's also a blood warning
Don't know why my brain did this it just started typing so- hah
Anyways enjoy :D
Shigaraki sat up at a desk full of monitors. Kurogiri stood stiff at his side. "This is a horrible idea, pull him out." Kurogiri said, speaking with a tone he rarely used on Shigaraki. Shigaraki shrugged, watching Compress weave through the crowd as he declined his third offering of champagne that night. At this point, he was the only sober one in the room. "He's not a damsel, he'll live, Kurogiri."
Kurogiri bit back his first response. "You know as well as I do as much as he enjoys partying, this is beyond anyone's limit. People are blackout drunk in there." Shigaraki nodded, and he caught up on what Kurogiri was trying to explain when Compress pulled someone's hand off of his shoulder. "If anyone tries anything like that, we have Twice, Dabi and Magne ready to pull him out," Shigaraki pointed to Hawks on another monitor. "And we have the bird." Kurogiri shook his head, not enjoying this in the slightest.
Atsuhiro felt the same.
He enjoyed partying, he used to do it all the time in his youth. Though, after one particular night, he couldn't bring himself to even smell alcohol. He refused to go near it. Or leave his apartment, but that's his story. Now that he's surrounded by either tipsy or flat-out drunk people, Atsuhiro was ready to call it a night and go take a shower to try wash the alcohol away. He tried his best to swallow around the lump in his throat whenever someone's hand brushed up against his arm.
He thought he was safe when someone grabbed him from behind. Atsuhiro turned sharply, and stopped mid-punch. It was Hawks. "Ah, it's just you." Atsuhiro breathed a sigh of relief. "I doubt I'm going to be able to find our target like this, we should go-" Atsuhiro's breath hitched when he felt Hawks's grip tighten on his wrist. "Hawks." He hissed, turning back. One look at his face and Atsuhiro knew he was in trouble. Hawks was drunk. How did that even happen? Atsuhiro pulled back, freeing his wrist only to have his waist grabbed.
"Hawks." Atsuhiro tried again, grabbing his wrist. "Let go." Hawks didn't seem to want to, and pulled Atsuhiro to the dance floor, where there were people dancing. Atsuhiro was spun around almost like a doll. Hawks was laughing, and pulled him so they were chest to chest. If Atsuhiro wasn't aware that they were being watched, he might have actually stabbed Hawks. He was spun again, and let out a shriek as he was picked up this time. "Put me down-! Hawks!" Atsuhiro's cry was ignored as Hawks brought them back off the centre of the dance floor.
"Very funny." Atsuhiro said sarcastically. "Can you let go now?" Atsuhiro winced once again as Hawks dug his nails into Atsuhiro's waist. Hawks grinned, positively out of it, and pushed his whole weight onto Atsuhiro. They fell back, Atsuhiro's back hitting a wall. In one quick movement, Atsuhiro was caged by a pair of arms. Atsuhiro was vaguely aware of Hawks saying his name, his face buried into his neck.
Atsuhiro barely suppressed a wince when he felt teeth digging into his neck. This was too familiar, Atsuhiro barely remembered what happened that night but Hawks's weight on him brought a cold reminder of the whole thing to him, and Atsuhiro felt like he was going to get sick. "Hawks-" Atsuhiro froze when he saw Hawks's hand start to move. Atsuhiro wasn't going to give it a chance to go anywhere.
Atsuhiro shoved Hawks off of him roughly, sufficiently terrified for the night.
Backing into the crowd, Atsuhiro realised he was bleeding. He clutched where Hawks had bit down and looked around for the camera. Which one was he supposed to signal at again? Atsuhiro forced himself not to flinch at Hawks calling him again. Atsuhiro took off into the crowd, caution thrown to the wind. He didn't bother checking if the door he went through was the right door, he just needed to get away from the stench, from the people, from Hawks.
"What's happening down there?!"
Shigaraki yelled into the walkie talkie, Kurogiri glaring at the feather covering the camera. "Don't know, Magne went in." Shigaraki sighed, scratching at his neck harshly. "Good." He said simply. Dabi put the walkie talkie away, looking at Twice, who was peeking into the room. "I can't see her! She's right there!" Dabi looked in, and saw Magne dragging Hawks out, his feathers following. "What about Mr.?" Dabi glared at Hawks as Magne shook her head.
"Boss, Magne didn't find Mr." Dabi's voice crackled over the walkie talkie. Shigaraki leaned in. "Send Hawks back to the van." Dabi grinned at the clear threat in his bosses voice. He grabbed Hawks and started walking as Kurogiri's patience ran thin, and he left as well. Magne and Twice stayed at the door, peeking in to catch wind of Compress. Kurogiri looked through the building, thankfully blending in well as he looked.
Kurogiri heard Atsuhiro before he found him.
Kurogiri turned down to the right when he heard a hitched sob, then silence. Turning around sharply, Kurogiri saw Atsuhiro pressed up against a wall, covering his mouth and neck. "Atsuhiro-? Atsuhiro, it's Kurogiri." Kurogiri spoke as gently as he could, surprisingly able to surpress his anger. Atsuhiro didn't answer, wiping his tears away sufficiently and grinning weakly up at him. "Kurogiri, I-" Kurogiri waited as Atsuhiro took a shaky breath. "I didn't see you there."
"Are you hurt? What happened down there?" Kurogiri stood over Atsuhiro, watching him curl into himself as he got closer. "Nothing, it was just a little hiccup." Atsuhiro laughed weakly as more tears fell down his cheeks. Kurogiri wiped them away, and saw blood trickle down Atsuhiro's hand. Kurogiri stared for a second, and then registered what he was looking at. "Atsuhiro, what happened to your neck?" Atsuhiro didn't answer, and Kurogiri gently moved his hand. He saw the teeth marks.
"Who did this?" Kurogiri's voice turned cold.
Atsuhiro stared firmly at the floor. "Could we just go home?" His voice was barely above a whisper. Kurogiri shook his head. "Atsuhiro. Who did this." Atsuhiro forced himself to breathe, forced himself to keep his composure, or what was left of it. Atsuhiro muttered as Kurogiri wrapped his arms around him loosely. "What was that, love?" Kurogiri asked, and neither noticed the nickname. "Hawks. It was Hawks. He didn't- he was drunk." Atsuhiro's words were choked as he spoke into Kurogiri's chest, his grip tightening on his shirt.
Kurogiri took a deep breath, both to hide the will to hold Compress tighter in fear of scaring him more, and anger at Hawks. He was going to rip that man to shreds. "Okay, let's get you out of here, alright? We'll go back to the van." Atsuhiro nodded, face hidden as Kurogiri warped them back to the van.
Dabi looked over, and hid the relief he felt when he saw Atsuhiro. "Boss, Kurogiri has Mr." Atsuhiro looked over, and Kurogiri would've been impressed by his ability to seem fine if not for the rage flowing through him. "I'm not dead, no need to be concerned." Atsuhiro laughed, then winced, his hand flying to the bloody mark on his neck. Dabi frowned. "Did a dog attack you or something?" Kurogiri gestured to Hawks, and Dabi's shoulders raising was the only indication that he was surprised.
"Hawks-?" Dabi asked, voice sharp. Kurogiri nodded as Hawks stumbled out of the van, and Atsuhiro took an instinctive step back when they made eye contact. Hawks garbled speaking was interrupted by Dabi kneeing him in the gut. Atsuhiro let out a startled laugh, not expecting that at all. Toga ran out of the van, wrapping her arms around Atsuhiro and swinging off of him. "Twice was worried about you! You want me to cut up the guy who hurt you?" Toga grinned and pulled a knife out of god knows where. Atsuhiro laughed again, shaking his head.
"That's not necessary, but thank you." Toga didn't respond, and dragged him over to Spinner. As soon as Shigaraki joined them outside with Magne and Twice, they were off. Atsuhiro sat up front with Spinner, and thankfully, there was no issue getting back. Shigaraki sent the others on their way, and Dabi managed to convince him to wait until Hawks was sober to kill him, somehow. Kurogiri led Atsuhiro off to shower and away from Hawks.
Atsuhiro cleaned himself off until all he could smell was soap, and his skin was scrubbed raw, he got out only because Kurogiri called him. Atsuhiro was freshly clothed, dried and ready to drop dead. Kurogiri snorted a little when Atsuhiro faceplanted on the bed. "Atsuhiro." Kurogiri called softly, and Atsuhiro looked over. Kurogiri reapplied a bandage to the wound. "There, now you can rest, love." Atsuhiro nodded, eyes already shut. Kurogiri gently eased Atsuhiro back into the pillows, watching him curls around the blankets.
Kurogiri waited until he was sure Atsuhiro was asleep before leaving. He walked down the hall and tried not to yell when he caught Toga and Twice breaking into Atsuhiro's room. He held back a sigh and let them go. He had more important things to tend to. Like the murder of the number two hero.
Atsuhiro woke the next day to arms wrapped around every limb. At first, he panicked. Then he saw who was there. Twice and Toga were clinging to his arms, and Spinner was the reason he couldn't feel his legs. He was draped over both of them, sleeping soundly. Atsuhiro knew he wasn't moving any time soon, so he decided to lean back and wait for rescue. Unfortunately, he fell asleep before said rescue showed up.
Twice and Spinner were woken abruptly to Hawks screaming. Spinner was about to ask what the hell was happening, but was shoved off the bed by Toga, who proceeded to scream. "They're killing him without us! C'mon!" Twice started to shush her as Atsuhiro shifted around. The three of them froze until Atsuhiro settled again, comfortable. Spinner snuck out, holding the door open for the other two as the fled the room. As soon as Spinner eased the door shut, they were off.
Shigaraki was chasing Hawks through the halls, Dabi hot on his heels, literally.
Twice made a clone, and followed Dabi through the door. Toga threw one of her knives to Spinner and the two followed. Kurogiri enjoyed watching them, already deciding when and how he was going to kill Hawks. So he sat back and watched the others chase Hawks out into the streets. He enjoyed the panic over the media, it was entertaining to watch other heroes try get in their way. Kurogiri simply sat back and waited for Atsuhiro to get up.
[Something I feel I should explain is Hawks's behaviour- because I am aware of how different I'm writing him-
Hawks to me is the kind of guy who treats everyone aside from his chosen few people like shit. Like- if he doesn't like or if he doesn't have to respect you, he doesn't care about you. At all.
Tokoyami, Miruko and Endeavour, people like them that he likes he protects, he treats well and he adores them. People like Dabi, Shigaraki and Kurogiri? He has to respect them, it's the only reason he tolerates them.
His relationship with Twice is a little like his and Tokoyami's, Tokoyami and Twice treat him like a human, so he wants to make sure they're happy, that they're well fed and other stuff like that.
I dont think Hawks feels that way about Compress, therefore he doesn't treat him like that, simple as. The only reason he'd like Compress is because of his drive to do work and be productive instead of sleeping.
Which is also why I dont think his relationship with Dabi is great either, because Dabi and Hawks dont trust each other and all that.
Yeah idk- I just think it's pretty cool to explore Hawks's duality as a spy and how differently he'd treat people he sees as "good" and "bad"]
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stillness-in-green · 4 years
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Shigaraki Birthday Week, Day 1: rebirth
I like how everyone writing for this prompt so far is clearly still processing Current Manga Events.  On which note, huge spoilers for chapter 266 below the cut.
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He comes out of the tube blinking and wet, groggy and unfamiliar with the sense of his own mind.  An ache thrums in his bones, a strange fullness, different from the old hollow scratching.  Hurts about the same either way.  And same as when he went under, his League’s there—except there’s a difference in them, too.
He lets his gaze slide over them, cataloging the state of them, the sound of their voices a muffled jumble through the fluid still draining from his ears and the cotton in his brain.
Spinner—hovering closest like he’s still not sure what he wants, even after everything.  Blood on his shirt, old enough to be dried, but not much more.  Jittery. Agitated.  Claws curled around Shigaraki’s prosthetic just like holding hands.
Mister Compress—standing just behind Spinner, drumming fingers falling still on his cane when Shigaraki scans him.  Mask on, shoulders tight.  No coat, and his dress shirt’s wrinkled, patched with sweat stains.  
Dabi—leaning on a wall (cement, fills in the part of Shigaraki trained to always take note of his surroundings, yellowy light—warehouse, underground parking lot?) arms crossed, a fresh slash on his cheek that’s popped a few of his stitches open.  Coat singed, eyes turned to Shigaraki and narrowed like someone right on the edge of starting a fight.  
‘M not lying on cement, Shigaraki’s body takes the time to tell him, and he feels the presence even as he cranes his head up to see Machia’s craggy chin and the whites of his eyes glowing pale against the mass of his silhouette.  He doesn’t move, not one of the massive, curled knuckles wrapped around Shigaraki’s back and legs so much as twitching at the attention, but his pinprick black pupils swim slowly into focus.  
Movement.  Shigaraki turns his head back down as Toga stands up from a street thug squat well away from the others and starts towards him.  No smile, lips drawn lemon-sour tight.  Yellow eyes fixed on his, eyebrows knotted tight. Killing intent as sharp as the knife she’s clutching, white knuckles and bare steel.  
No lab.  No Doc.  No Destro cronies.  
No Twice.  He doesn’t bother to sweep the room again as the absence sinks in its claws and Toga closes the gap.  Just brings his good hand up when Machia shifts like a continent. Just turns up his palm and folds his fingers, all but one, around the black mask Toga presses hard into his hand. Up close, the grimy light overhead shows the tear tracks cutting through the grime on her cheeks.  
“I found some more things I want since you went to sleep, Tomura-kun,” she says in a voice like a wild animal’s growl.
“We’ll get ‘em,” he rasps, and lets her pull him, wobbling, to his feet.  Pain and resolve flare in Spinner’s eyes—he makes up his mind on the spot and fetches up against Shigaraki’s other side, tucking an arm around his waist for support.
“It’s not just us,” Spinner says, holding on as Shigaraki tests his weight.  “Re-Destro and some of the Liberation Front’s—”  
“Later,” Shigaraki says, then looks down at Toga.  “Who?”
“Ask Dabi,” she spits.  
Dabi’s shoulders go even tenser, but for once he doesn’t argue, though licks of blue flame curl between his fingers when Shigaraki looks his way.  
“Hawks,” Shigaraki says, and Mister Compress straightens his posture to drop one somber nod.  
“I reminded little Toga of what you and I did to the last person who crossed the League this way,” he says, voice smooth and tight as a drumhead.  “It’s our hope, dear leader, that you can come up with something as appropriate now as then.”
Magne.  And now Twice.  Kurogiri, too, and Sensei, and none of the memories sit in his head quite the same, but they all burn alike in his gut, twisting and clenching like he’s back on the Doc’s table, every part of him peeled apart and bursting open, drugs etching magnesium-bright patterns through his veins, a mad howl ringing in his ears that’s made of every loss and every hurt he’s ever felt tangling and snarling and fusing into one huge red mass of intent, throbbing a bruise-pain, heartbeat rhythm.
The cement under his still-bare feet cracks once, twice—Twice—then hits three through five times all at once. Toga swallows a gasp and dances back, the thunderstorm-fury finally clearing from her face; Spinner hisses and clutches him close, scrambling up onto Machia’s still-open palms.  
“Stop flailing,” Shigaraki grunts and flexes his maimed hand experimentally.  His old itch seems to hover outside his body, materialized in that spiderweb of cracks, and he remembers—there’s never been a time I didn’t know—how to scratch.  
He tips his head onto Spinner’s shoulder, running his eyes across their surroundings until he spots a line of cars sitting at the other end of the garage.  The cracking line of stone passes directly beneath the tires of car one and car two, the rolling sound of metal shifting and resettling as the ground beneath them fragments.  Decay races up the tires of car number three, a sporty little red thing, and reduces it in seconds to scattering ash between the lines of the parking space.
“You’re—controlling it?” Spinner breathes as the League turns to follow the path of destruction.
“Yeah,” Shigaraki answers, and Gigantomachia rumbles satisfaction underfoot like foreshocks.  “Call it a New Game Plus power.”
Dabi snorts despite himself, turning a white, wry grin onto him, eyes gone glassy-bright with resentful grief.  “What’d we even pull you out of the tube for, if we’ve still gotta put up with your shit gaming metaphors, Boss?”
Toga skips back over the cracks like a girl playing hopscotch, bouncing back up to Shigaraki’s side and retaking his hand.  “Don’t let us down,” she tells him, and though her voice shakes, she grins at him, spite dripping from the expression like freshly-drunk blood off her fangs, Twice’s mask held tangled between their fingers.  
His family’s one smaller, shrunk while he was under, and he knows better than anyone that there’s no bringing back the dead.  But he’s back.  Back like a curse rebounding, like a cancer out of remission.  He is here, the world is one big itch, and he’s ready to claw and claw until he feels the whole thing crack open, raw and running blood beneath his hands. 
He nods.
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(In my head, Skeptic and/or Trumpet sacrificed their shot at a getaway to pack ReDestro onto the Gigantomachia Bullet Train headed Due Hospital, because like hell were they going to see their movement lose its leader a second time.  Geten also hitched a ride at the last minute.  So while I didn’t have the room to say so in the fic, please feel free to imagine the two of them waiting around awkwardly outside, or one level up or down from the League.)
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