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freudianslumber · 11 months

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Today, Tomorrow and Forever

Summary: Angel Elvis went through Hell when being falsely accused of betraying God. Eventually found true love with LAPD narcotics officer B.B. King.

Chapter 3 Escape from Abyss

Pairing: Red West x Elvis Presley (m/m), Sonny West x Elvis Presley (m/m)

Word count: 2k

Warning: 18+, Sexual abuse, Rape, Drugging, Blood and Injury

Elvis' own shock was at least equal or worse than his molester. "R- Red?? You are a demon?!!" His voice was filled with disbelief. Red sat up, although his one hand continued to thrust in and out of Elvis' behind as if he couldn't stop: "What do ya expect?? Sonny and I ran from Heaven soon after your trial. We could sense they no longer trusted us once you tried to tell on us. So we joined the dark army here, it was just that easy! I was never that impressed with that stuck-up sob up there anyway, so here I am! My name is even Red, it's all meant to be! Wanna join us??" His laugh sent a chill down Elvis' spine. Tears welled up in his eyes as Elvis tried to plead with him and appeal to his conscience: "Red, how can you do this to me?! We grew up together! Please let me go, I'm not a threat to you anymore since my wings are gone and I've lost all my power as an angel." A vile expression came over Red's demon face: "Why not, Elvis?? You are weak, too easily hindered by your soft heart. That's why you are so easily trapped and defiled by everyone else! I always hated you, you and your loving generosity! All the angel women lusted after you, even I lusted after you!" He suddenly made a fist out of his hand and fisted Elvis all the way, the pain broke through all the aphrodisiac and sedatives and shot through the angel's body like electricity. His scream was quickly silenced by a gag ball however, while Red brought a hand around Elvis' neck and started to cut off his air supply there. The rhythmic fisting of Elvis from down below coupled with choking around his elegant neck rapidly sent the drugged subject over the edge, Red added insult to injury by wrapping his mouth around Elvis as he came with barely more than a dry orgasm. As his eyes began to lose focus, Red continued to grope around him and milked every last drop out of him. When Red finally let go, Elvis was reduced to a whimpering mess laying beneath him, still with a chemically-induced painful erection, shaking all over from overstimulation. Red grabbed Elvis' face, took out his gag and admired his perfect features: "That's my baby! Too bad we can't disfigure you. You are reserved for the supreme master. Don't blame us, we are only conditioning you for the real deal! Just so you know, Colonel and Dr. Nick have force fed you nutrition through a nasogastric tube, so you can never starve yourself. They also kept you in a continuous drug haze while dozens of us have had the pleasure to take you multiple rounds a day!" "And do you have any idea how many days you've been out??" Red's sadistic laughter suddenly got cut off and it was followed by a heavy thud on the ground.

Less than a minute later Elvis ripped out his IV and sat up from the counter. His head spun so bad from sitting up rapidly he almost fell back down right away. Moving slower, Elvis tentatively stood up, then went over to the unconscious demon who had been knocked out cold from an unexpected kick to the back of his head. Elvis was so thankful he practiced karate while in Heaven and retained his deft aim and precise technique despite compromised strength currently. He made a quick job of tying Red up behind his back and then to the counter, not forgetting to utilize the gag ball on the demon as well. These tools of torture and bondage that had been used on him were scattered around conveniently due to the arrogance of Red and his evil compatriots. Their vigilance had all but disappeared after days and nights of sex parties without seeing signs of resistance from their almost comatose victim. Ironically Elvis would never have gotten awake and alert enough to make the surprise strike if he had not been shocked out of sedation by Red's fisting. He wrapped his naked form in the black cloak Red had left on the floor, squeezed into his boots though it was a little too tight, and found a bunch of keys hanging from the demon's belt. The demon started to wake up as he made a groan against the gag, Elvis hurried to try the keys on the iron gate to his cell. As Red began to make louder strained struggling noises, Elvis finally stumbled upon the right key. The gate opened with a small creak, Elvis remembered to smear some dirt on his face to obscure his pale skin before slipping out into the corridor.

The outside appeared to be a maze of interconnecting dimly lit corridors with no indication of where they led to and danger lurking around each corner. Elvis already had a few close calls when small teams of demon guards passed by not far away, his heart fluttering wildly while hiding the best he could in the shadows. Distant echoes of screams and monstrous howls could be heard once in a while, no doubt emanating from other torture chambers and such. Elvis was growing more desperate by the minute as his body started to feel the full effect of his accumulated injuries while the analgesics and the tranquilizers he had been on wore off. His gait increasingly more unsteady and antalgic from the right ankle fracture he had suffered at the hand of the Colonel, the back pain was searing, not to mention the throbbing cramps in his lower abdomen and the raw and jabbing sensation in his more private regions. He was panting and sweating profusely while trying to lumbar along without direction when a loud alarm went off. The hallway lit up in an instant and shouts could be heard as some demons appeared at the end of the corridor and began to rush toward Elvis. The battered angel panicked and started to turn random corners and ran away instinctively from the noise and the pursuit. Things got even worse as he was struck by several arrows on his leg and waist. His body was on the verge of finally giving out when a hand suddenly covered his nose and mouth while he was pulled into a hidden room.

Elvis was at his wit's end. His head was pounding, seeing stars in front of his eyes as he struggled to breathe while being smothered by the hand. An arm that felt like it was made out of steel kept him firmly in place despite all the bucking and kicking. His thrashing finally stopped when a familiar voice called out: "Stop!! Elvis, it's me, Sonny!" He was then released from the iron grip and turned around to face another childhood friend turned demon. "Sonny, " Elvis wheezed out, "let me go! I beg of you! I'd rather die a thousand deaths than to be the Devil's plaything!". "Shh..." Sonny put a finger over his mouth to shush him. "They are hunting for you outside. You can never make it out on your own, I'm your best chance!" He pulled Elvis to sit on a chair in what looked like his private living quarter. Sonny handed Elvis a small glass of water which he immediately gulped down: "I know where the exit is but we need to hurry and get you patched up before we make a run for it." Sonny brought over some supplies including gauzes, rubbing alcohol and tape. His hand moved to pull back Elvis' cloak to inspect his latest wounds when Elvis grabbed it, looking up with suspicion: "Why are you helping me?"

"Why?" Sonny made an awkward laugh before withdrawing his hand. He sighed, paused a minute, took a deep breath, "Because I feel guilty, alright? I had harbored feelings for you for so long but we were never more than just friends. I was already feeling guilty when Red and I had to accuse you falsely to save ourselves. I did not really want to defect to Hell, but did it out of fear to be found out and banished like you." He ran a hand through his own hair, clenched his jaw, then admitted: "Yeah I violated you like everyone else when you were out. I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I got lost in my want, and it fulfilled all my fantasies. I felt so good inside of you..." His voice shook slightly, and he closed his eyes for a second, as if to relive those moments in his mind, then opened them and continued: "but I couldn't live with myself afterwards. Whatever was left of my conscience was eating me alive!! I remembered all the times we had fun as kids, how kind and selfless you always were, and just can't bring myself to accept the fact that all your suffering was because of me!"

Sonny walked over and sat down in a chair next to Elvis, finally looking him in the eyes: "I don't expect you to forgive me, but for old time sakes let me do what I can to help you. You don't belong in this literal hellhole". "Sonny...", Elvis started but his voice trailed off. He knew Devil himself had his eyes set on him, so Sonny was risking his own life to defy Devil's orders and help him escape. Elvis responded with a silent nod and opened his cloak to reveal his fresh wounds.

With Sonny's help, Elvis got his new wounds cleaned and dressed up after three arrows were pulled out of his body. The one near his waist on the right side was quite deep and affected his breathing. Even after it was removed, there was a sharp stabbing pain in the right chest whenever he took a deep breath. The other two arrows were taken out without incidence from the back of his left thigh. Sonny then gave Elvis something to wear underneath the cloak, a standard elastic black bodysuit which covered him from neck to toe. Elvis took a quick sponge bath due to his many wounds and then changed into the bodysuit and a pair of more comfortable boots. He then had a light meal, took a couple of pain pills, packed a small canteen of water and a bag of nuts before they went on their way.

Their ensuing journey was surprisingly uneventful, testament to Sonny's foresight and skills as a guide. Most of the challenges came from Elvis' physical limitations, as his body kept weighing him down with all this exertion. After what felt like forever, they came to a large cave with loud sounds of howling wind. A whirlwind in the middle of this cave shot up through a large opening in the ceiling. Through the opening Elvis got a small peak at the starry night sky. "This is it! The gateway to the outside world." Sonny exclaimed. "Demons rarely go above ground, just like angels seldom descend from Heaven. You are entering the realm of humans, they have their own rules and laws. You are on your own from this point on!" Still trying to let the idea sink in that he was about to escape from Hell, Elvis's eyes welled up with tears as he blurted out: "Thank you Sonny, you don't know how grateful I am..." Sonny's demon eyes teared up a little too: "Don't be. Just take care of yourself, there are a lot of deceitful humans out there..." With those parting words, Sonny pushed Elvis into the whirlwind and watched him disappear above ground.

#elvis presley #angel AU #m/m

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

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The Instructor - Part 5

Summary: Augusts confronts your betrayal.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 4k

Warnings: Dark, violence, abuse, choking, hitting, punching, orgasm denial, orgasm control, sex (p in v), mdom/fsub, switch, praise kink, degradation kink, name calling, dubious consent. I tried to mention everything if I missed something I sincerely apologise.

Authors Note: FINAL PART. There are probably going to be massive plot holes, sorry about that, this was never meant to be a series, so I didn’t do anywhere near the set up needed. However, I’m glad I did do a series because I enjoyed playing around with some of the darker aspects of the story. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I just went for it and this is what came out! It probably also isn't strictly cannon, but I made use of some aspects of the MI cannon.

Unbeta'd and unedited, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Part 4

The Instructor Part 5

You thought you had felt true fear before this moment, but you were wrong. Confronted with the unyielding stare of August, your stomach twists and your mouth goes dry. You’re completely and utterly fucked.

You try to answer August, make up a believable lie, beg forgiveness, say anything. But you can’t, it’s like he can see into your soul and you know that any lie you tell him will only make him angrier.

Quicker than lightning, August’s hands grip your throat. He pushes you to the wall, uncaring as your head hits it so hard your vision swims. Both his hands push into your neck, compressing your arteries and you feel the blood pooling, building pressure behind your eyes. This wasn’t the subtle choking he engaged in when you played. No, this was Special Agent August Walker trying to kill you.

You are stretched against the wall, your toes barely touch the ground. You are a trained soldier, but August is a trained assassin, you know you won’t last long in a situation like this, you will pass out in less than a minute. Then all August had to do was keep squeezing and you would be dust.

“Why, pet?” August asks through clenched teeth.

You can’t speak, you have no air. You plead to August with your eyes, silently begging him to stop. His hands press harder and you feel him crushing your trachea with his leathal hands. You scratch at his hands, his face, his eyes. You kick with your feet, frantic, feeling yourself get weaker by the second. You get one lucky shot in and for a moment August’s grip falters as he doubles over retching in pain.

You slam the palm of your hand into his forearms and he lets you go. You run for the door, your nudity the last of your concerns. Your throat hurts as you run, bruised and raw, you gulp breath in, coughing you try and fill your lungs again. You reach the door, pull the handle. It stops, not making a full rotation.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration. You turn the lock and try to open in again. It does and for a brief moment you taste freedom.

A foot kicks the door closed and August is in front of you. You back away from him as he locks it again. In the unlikely event you live through this night, you will never forget the snarl on his face. You look into his eyes, expecting to see the eyes of a killer and August doesn’t disappoint. His azure eyes burn with such murderous intent, for a moment you think you are going to lose control of your bladder.

But there is something else there, something he tries to hide behind his fury. You search his face, trying to see past the mask and find what he is concealing. You wince when you see it. August was hurt. Your betrayal had hurt him.

“This is even more fun than the first time we fucked, Pet,” he says, mockingly. August advances on you with a bullish intent. He is magnificent as he stalks you, his loose pyjama pants hang low on his hips, his chest is taut and his thick ropey arms flex as he readies them for a fight.

You try and think clearly, maybe you should confess everything. He’s going to kill you if you don’t. If only you had long enough to check his records, but you couldn’t put your associates at risk if you weren’t sure.

Lifting your chin, you accept your fate. You ready a fighting stance, and August does too. You understand you can’t beat him, but you won’t die without a fight.

You dodge his first attack, and you’re not surprised that he led with his fists. He only needs one to land and he would break your bones. You retreat to the kitchen, praying its laid out the same as yours. Opening the draw with the knives, you pull one out. It’s not ideal, its weight wasn’t distributed well for fighting, but it was better than nothing. Your gun is in your room and you have no idea where August keeps his.

Turning the tables and going on the offensive, you make August back up and you move to the door. You hold the knife expertly, and as long as you keep August from getting his own weapon, the fight might be a fair one. You have so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you start to shake. The blade accentuates the tremors and August see’s, of course he would find your weakness.

“Put the knife down, Pet,” August orders, his voice was smooth, calm and commanding. You nearly stumble, his words sent shivers down your spine. How can he still have an effect on you? “You know I can’t let you out of here.”

You gage the distance to the door, it was still so far away. Your fear made you want to run to it again, but you knew it would be a mistake. Better to keep advancing slowly, forcing August back.

But August stops retreating and plants himself in front of the door. He stretches his neck, rolls his shoulders, his naked torso hides nothing and you see his muscles ripple under his skin. Your body and mind are in conflict, confused by the stimulus. You’re terrified of August, but fear of him and what he is capable of was part of his appeal, part of his savage, dominant sexuality. Your body can’t tell the difference and you feel it responding, your centre grows warm, throbbing and your arousal moistens the apex of your thighs.

“Please,” you murmur. Confronted with August’s obstruction and his dismissiveness of your threat, you lose hope. You feel weak and exhausted. Again, you contemplate confessing everything, but you aren’t a coward, you were realistic.

The cruel snarl on August’s face becomes a smirk as you plead. “I love hearing you beg, Pet,” he taunts.

He attacks again, this time grabbing a chair from the dining table. You try and duck but he is too fast for you and the solid wood chair cracks you over your head and shoulders. You stumble to the ground; your vision wavers and you nearly pass out. You try and get to your knees, but your arms won’t cooperate and you fall to the floor, no doubt you have a concussion. You look for the knife, see it about a metre away. With your head thumping and your heart racing, you scramble for it, but August reaches you first.

Gripping both your ankles, August uses your legs and body weight against you, flipping you onto your back. He pulls you to him, your skin rubs against the carpet and you howl with pain as you feel the fibres burn your ass and back. August climbs on top of you, his hands are at your throat again, squeezing the life from you.

“You’re killing me, August,” you try and say, but all you hear is your pathetic whimpers. You feebly punch and slap at August, but you are spent. You give up, you tried. You get angry at yourself for even thinking of giving up, but you didn’t know what else to do. You can’t win. Tears well in your eyes and start to roll down your cheeks. You squeeze them shut, ashamed that you cried in your last moments, that you gave up, that you didn’t fight.

The pressure on your throat relaxes, and you gulp in air, coughing and retching as your inflamed throat protests. You try to roll to your side to breath easier, but August doesn’t allow it, his body still traps yours and one hand still grips your throat. You feel his whiskered lips on your cheeks, kissing away your tears. You open your eyes and are consumed by his and the fire that burns within them. You wonder what your eyes are saying to his.

August shifts his hips and you feel him, hard under his thin pants. Your eyes widen, he really had been enjoying the fight. It scares you, feeling how hard and fully erect he his, aroused by trying to kill you. But you knew how hypocritical that was, because even now, terrified, a moment from death, you ache for him.

You roll your hips, sliding your bare, slick slit against August, the fabric of his pants harsh against your clit, but you feel him beneath it, and you can’t stop. You don’t want to but your craving for him was too strong.

If you didn’t know August as well as you did, you may have missed the surprise in his eyes. It came and went so quickly. His lip curled, triumphant, he had you where he wanted you, desperate, without fight left and completely his.

August’s arrogant look, his smug sneer, his complete domination of you made you lose the last shred of dignity you had and you beg for him.

“Please, please,” you whimper.

“You’re such a little whore,” August scolds you. “Do you think you can fuck your way out of this?”

You shake your head, “No.” You cry again, fat tears rolling down your cheeks in a constant stream, but you don’t stop your wanton grinding. You need to feel him inside you.

“Why are you so fucking wet, Pet?” August asks, his jeering tone warmed your face with shame.

“I don’t know!” you cry.

“Yes, you do, Pet.”

You try to turn away and hide from his knowing eyes. August won’t let you, griping your cheeks with his fingers, digging deep, the soft flesh pressing painfully against your teeth. Through your sobs you say, “Because I want you.”

“Beg me,” August’s voice changed, becoming low and hoarse. He starts to move with you, teasing you. “Beg for my cock.”

You don’t try to hold back, the words fall freely, “Please August, please.”

August tuts, “You can do better than that, Pet. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, August,” you sob. You’re ashamed of yourself, of how wet you are, how badly you want him, how easily you submit. But it feels too good, playing on the edge as you were, where fear and arousal become interchangeable, you had never felt such bliss.

Taking his pants off, August fists his cock as he takes you in, his gaze rakes over you, lingering on your desperate cunt. Lining himself up, he teases your entrance. When he slides himself over you, he groans as his eyes close and he throws his head back. You realise, you’re not as powerless as you thought, he wants you too and just as badly.

Bringing his head down next to yours, he growls in your ear, “Keep going, Pet. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck your hot little cunt.”

You start mumbling, “Please August, please. I need you.” You throw your arms around him, grip his ass and pull him closer. Your nails dig into his skin as you urge him into you.

With a violent thrust, August enters you. Both of you cry out, your twin shouts echo in each other’s ears. “You feel so good, pet. So wet and so fucking tight.” You mewl under him. He is stretching you, painfully. He offered your core no preparation and it protested his invasion, clamping down hard. August wasn’t fucking around, if he had taken any pity on you in the past, he wasn’t this time. He pumps into you, his pelvis making long driving strokes, your walls straining against the force of his cock, unready for his intrusion.

August hooks your knees over his arms and forcing your legs wider, he is finally sheathed. Increasing his pace, he uses you, furious, punishing and without pity. He offers you no pleasure, he takes what he wants. His face above you is twisted, angry, and hateful. This is payback, revenge, hurt me and I’ll destroy you. But despite that, or maybe because you feel you deserve it, a familiar pressure starts to build between your legs.

“August,” you beg. “I need to cum, please.”

Leaning down, pushing his weight onto your already strained legs, he brings his face to yours. His eyes are dark and sadistic as he says vindictively, “No.”

You groan. You were so close, you don’t know if you can stop it. “Please!” you howl. Fresh tears fill your eyes and you implore him.

“No.” August says, his voice cruel and merciless. “You cum and I’ll fuck your ass raw.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You try and think of all the parts of your body that hurt. Your head, shoulders, legs, the skin on your back rubbing against the carpet. But it doesn’t work. Your body is so warm, tingling, your skin feels alive and the pain is dull compared to the rapture you feel.

Your body is suddenly wrest from the floor. August withdraws from you and flips you onto your knees and violates you again. You feel August’s hand in your hair and he forces your face into the floor. You heard a thud next to your head, his foot is there, and he continues his assault, kneeling on one leg anchoring himself with the other.

You bite your hand to muffle your shouts, you don’t want to give August the satisfaction of hearing your pain or pleasure. You thought he was deep before, but now you feel every impact in your gut, your core uncomfortably full from his brutal jabs. You can’t stay on your knees, your legs too weak to withstand his punitive thrusts. August doesn’t care. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you in place as he continues his ruthless assault.

Unable to stop it, you feel your release approach again. You try to deny it, but the savagery of August is too much. The feel of your bodies slaming together, the slapping of his balls against your clit, the sound of his grunts of exertion overwhelm you and you can’t stop yourself from whining, “Please, August. Please. I’m fucking begging you.”

You hear August’s malicious chuckle. “No, Pet.”

August seizes you by the nape, pulling you up to your knees and your back presses against his chest. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he holds you against his shoulder. His other hand moves over your breasts, kneading into them, squeezing them. His face is close to yours, you feel his ragged breath tickle your cheeks.

He starts whispering in your ear and he presses his rough hairy lip into you. “You fucking little bitch,” his voice was low, harsh and dripping with venom, but August can’t stop his desire from seeping through. “Who sent you to me? Who told you to whore yourself for me?” He pinches at your nipples, and you shudder against him writhing. His insults pushing you towards your climax as much as his touch.

“Was it the CIA?” he asks, sliding his hand down your belly to between your legs. Fear makes your heart skip, if he touched you there you would not be able to stop your orgasm. You try and pull away, but he is too strong.

“Did those useless government hacks, turn you into a fucking whore, or did you volunteer, Pet?” He slid his fingers over your slit, and one grazed your clit sending your core pulsing around his cock. You want to tell him he has it all wrong, backwards. He thinks he’s been caught, he doesn’t know he’s being recruited.

He slaps your clit with his palm, a quick flick of his wrists that shocks you and if August wasn’t holding you up, you would have doubled over in pain and ecstasy.

“Don’t fucking cum.” August orders, rubbing a calloused finger over your oversensitive clit. Then, he says, sadly and with regret, “You could have come to me, Pet. Told me. I would have protected you. I could have gotten you out.” His voice almost cracks as he adds, “We could have gotten out together. BE together.”

You want to tell him, you want that too. You didn’t mean to fall for him either, none of this was planned. His fingers dance over your hard nub, coaxing from you the orgasm he forbids. Frustration suddenly pours out of you. You fight him again, punching the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and between your legs.

“Why do you fight so hard, Pet?” he asks. Those simple words he said to you all those months ago rock you. It was his invitation to submit willingly rather than be pulled under by the force of his will. But it was different this time, it wasn’t just you at stake.

You beg again, “August…” It’s all you can say through your short gasping cries. You break out in sweat, the need in you was so strong it took everything you had to fight it.

“Answer my question and you can cum,” He says. You nod, vigorously, you don’t even feel shame at giving in so easily, you’re too far gone. He brings his face in front of yours. Your whole body is shaking under his touch as he draws your orgasm and confession out of you.

“Were you sent by the CIA?”

You shake your head, and whimper, “No.”

August looks into your eyes for a hint of a lie. When he can’t find one, he coos, “Good girl,” and you wriggle at his praise. He kisses you roughly, lips hard against yours. “You can cum now, Pet.”

With unrestrained cries, you finally allow the pressure in your core to grow. You feel your release roll over your contorting body. Your guttural shout signals you’re the arrival of your long denied ecstasy and tears streamed from your eyes as you succumb with immense relief.

August watched every second of your orgasm, his face studying yours as if to memorise every expression, until you were done and can’t hold yourself up anymore. He removes himself with a gentleness that was unexpected and he tenderly carries you to his room. Cradling your head against his chest, he kisses your forehead, muttering something you can’t catch and were too far gone to ask.

He lays you on your side, and you are so malleable and weak, you let him curl you into a ball before he leans over you. He lifts your chin and turns your head so you are looking at him. You give him a half smile, which he returns with a soft hum. His eyes go to your collar and a look of sadness crosses his face, a grief so intense you feel it too.

You don’t know what to say and neither does August. He does the only thing he knows how to do when he feels what some people call love. He fucks.

When August enters you this time it’s different. Although his thrusts are brutal and powerful, it’s not punishment. He is trying to make a connection, to see if there is something salvageable between you. He needs to know if he means anything to you. He drops his forehead onto yours, resting there while his eyes met yours. He holds your throat and his thumb plays with your thin golden collar.

“You’re still mine, Pet,” August says, firmly.

“Always yours,” you reply with certainty. And you were. But by the end of this night he would know he was yours too.

As if to seal the promise you made, August kisses you. His lips pry yours open and his gentle explorative tongue massages yours. When you kiss him back, you are surprised by the growl he makes in his throat. Feeling bold, you place a hand on his cheek as you kiss. He doesn’t pull away so you slide your other hand into his hair and you expect him to shake you off, like he did before. He allows it, and he slides his free arm around you, pulling your bodies together. The rhythm you find together is nothing like the primal fucking you two are used to. It seemed as though he was making love to you, as much as someone like August could.

You feel the warmth grow again and radiate from your core. August instinctively knows your close again and stops your kisses watch you again. “Come for me, my sweet girl,” he utters.

You fall apart. Your fist tightens in his hair, you tremble beneath him, while you call his name.

“Fuck,” he grunts while you fall over the edges, and he forces himself deep within you, splitting you, owning you as you feel him thicken and pulse, releasing his seed into your milking core. Then he breaks you by growling your name as he makes his final throes.

You’re both slick with sweat, but August doesn’t care and he brushes your face with kisses. He looks like he wants to say something, opening his mouth and closing it again without saying a word. He helps you get up and he walks you to his bathroom.

August runs you a bath, and he sits on the edge for a while, watches you while you bathe. He showers quickly before returning to his spot.

Finally, he speaks, but he looks away as he says it, and for the first time you see August doubt himself, “If not the Agency, then who?” He asks.

“We have no government affiliation,” you say.

He nods, “Why did they send you, was the plan always to use sex?”

“No, August,” you say honestly. “This was not part of the plan. I was only supposed to be assigned to you while I did my training. This assignment was last minute, I don’t even know how it happened.”

He turns his attention back to you and looks for the lie he believes he will find. When he doesn’t find it he asks, “Your aunt, was that a lie?”

“She’s officially missing,” you say. “Unofficially, she brought me into group.”

“Something doesn’t add up, Pet,” August says. “I’m don’t know anything that a hundred other agents don’t also know. What did they send you to find out?”

“You don’t get it. We don’t want to bring you down, we want to recruit you. I had to make sure you are who we think you are.”

You see a glimpse of understanding in August’s eyes. “Go on,” he prompts.

You watch him carefully as you explain, “My assignment was to find out if you were the one who wrote a certain manifesto making the rounds in certain circles.” He doesn’t blink. You smirk, realising he’s trying too hard to keep his face smooth. He is the one.

“And, am I?” he asks.

“You are,” you say moving down the bath. Unbelievably, knowing he wrote that poetic and chaotic brilliance made you hot again. “This operation is all wrong, too big for simple arms traders. You’re using the CIA to get the connections and resources you need.” You run your finger down August’s bare arm, tracing the ridges of his muscles and the slight protruding veins on his forearms. August watches you intently, trying to appear cold, but you see his breaths grow shallow and his jaw clench. “We have the resources to help a man like you,” You reach his hand, turn it palm up, and lay a kiss into it before holding it to your cheek. “’A man with vision’ Lane calls you.”

“Lane?” August says, he seems confused, and he should be.

“Yes, meet with Solomon Lane and you will get your new world August.” You take his hand off your cheek and fold down his fingers except for the middle one. You take him in your mouth curling your tongue around him, and sucking.

August can’t look away. Already thrown by being discovered, he is completely transfixed by your sudden seduction.

“How?” he breathes.

You open your mouth and show August his finger sliding down your tongue. You get out of the bath and stand in front of August. You move his finger down your body, between your breasts, over your belly and between your thighs. You slide his finger between your warm folds and you hear August groan as you rest him against your entrance.

You ask him, “Have you, ever heard of the Syndicate, Pet?”

End

Tag List

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether

I have a feeling I missed someone, if I did, let me know!

#august walker #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #august walker x you #august walker x reader #august walker smut

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sinswithpleasure · 3 years

Text

The Playgirl (ft. LOONA's Yves) [Part 2] [Female Reader]

---------------

Hello! I'm back with part 2!

Futa!Yves x Fem Reader, just in case ya forgot.

If you prefer, this is also on AO3 and AFF!

---------------

Yves shows up on time for tutoring, to your surprise.

"Hey baby."

"Don't 'baby' me."

"Sure. Let's start."

"Alright. Open up the textbook. We're starting from the basics. I've printed out some of the prerequisites for this topic, since what you did last time wasn't up to standard due to lack of practice of the basics. Now…"

Yves listens attentively. In fact, things go a bit too smoothly for the both of you. Yves doesn't make any cheeky quip, pull out any pet names, or flirt with anyone that passes by. The womanizing playgirl you knew disappears, and in its place is a focused, dedicated young woman. Sometimes, you even find yourself staring at her work on the problems in front of her. The change is… welcome, to say the least.

Your eyes roam Yves's styled hair, swiped back to expose her forehead, down to her beautiful large eyes, button nose, and full lips.

God, you're gay. Sure, you're literally admiring the beauty of the most insufferable bane of the universe, but you're just so fucking gay and hot people are hot, no matter how irritating they are, so...

When your eyes shift back up, you're met with Yves's smirk.

"See something you like, babe?"

Fuck.

"N-no."

"Liar."

"Fuck off." You rush to change the subject. "How're you doing?"

"I've been done for a while. You would know if you weren't spending the time looking at me."

You refuse to dignify her with a response, checking through the solved problems. With your coaching, Yves manages to get two more questions correct as compared to last time, but she still makes some simple mistakes.

"Okay, here's the issue. In question two…"

---------------

Yves continues to show up for every tutoring session. Somehow, a week passes by, and it is now Friday.

"Good afternoon, babygirl."

"Don't 'babygirl' me. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Mm, whatever. How're you doing?"

"Why do you care?"

Yves pulls out the chair next to you, leaning back on it, resting her legs on the table. She turns to you, grinning.

"Of course I'd care! You're my tutor, and if you don't feel good, you won't be able to teach me properly. If I don't get taught, I won't learn, then I'll fail, and I don't get to win. You know that I always win."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"That's what you say, but not what you mean."

"Fuck you."

"That's what you'll be doing in five months' time."

"No I won't. Bring out the Calc textbook. We're going through Chapter 4 today."

"Alright, babygirl."

----------------

The change in Yves becomes apparent when she somehow is present earlier than you on Monday morning.

"Yves?"

"Oh, hey babe."

You sigh at the pet name, but having heard her call you that for quite some time now, it doesn't grind your gears as much anymore.

"Don't 'babe' me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Yves returns her attention to the papers she is working on, and the familiar math problems catch your eye.

"Calc?"

"Yeah. I promised I'll be the best student. Here I am."

"We'll see about that."

"You're looking at it right now." Yves rises from her chair, and in a flash, she has her arm around your waist, her face inches from yours. "I'm going to win, babygirl."

"G-Get off me!" Your face reddens instantly at the close proximity of your lips to hers. Memories of the chaste kiss Yves planted take front and center stage, and you can't help but look away from Yves.

"You're so pretty."

Yves has her gaze locked on your lips, then to your eyes. She is so close, too close, even. Heat flashes all over your body—every touch Yves leaves on you seems to burn.

"I mean it. You're gorgeous."

"T-Thank you."

The smug smirk never leaves Yves's face. She releases you from her smoldering gaze and grip, but she leaves you with a rapidly beating heart and a large distraction for the day to come.

When class begins, Yves tries to take the time to listen to the professor. However, she is soon back to her old ways, flicking paper balls at classmates and being on her phone more than she listens.

"Yves."

"Yeah, baby?" She meets your gaze, her tongue darting out to moisten her dry lips. Her hands carry on working on moulding another tiny paper ball.

"You're not listening."

"I am!"

"What was the last thing the prof said?"

"Um…"

You roll your eyes.

"Best student, my ass."

"I made that promise to you, not to him."

"You won't learn if you don't listen to him either. How're you going to be the best if you can't even do that?"

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

"That's right." You think hard about the words you want to say next, but maybe… maybe it is worth the risk. After all, Yves is still the bane of your existence, but she could be less of that if she keeps up her effort in trying to learn.

"You don't get to fuck me if you're not the best."

You watch as Yves freezes. She stares at you, her jaw hanging, before she steels her gaze to your eyes, staring deep into your soul.

"So this is how you wanna play, babygirl?"

"Yeah." You can feel your bravado slowly disappearing.

"Fine. I'll listen. I'll play by your rules."

Yves leans to your ear, her breath sending shivers down your spine. Her deep whisper makes you shudder.

"You will be mine at the end of the year, baby. I promise you: I'll ace my exams, and you'll love me for it."

Perhaps provoking your seatmate wasn't the best idea. Now you have to deal with the deep flush on your face and neck, as well as the heat between your legs.

---------------

A month passes.

Every week, the same things go by—tutoring, classes, more tutoring, more classes. However, what changes is how close you and Yves get with each other. By no means were the both of you friends, but she isn't as much of a thorn in your side anymore.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Baby

I need a bit more help with the math from the last chapter.

Can I see you this weekend?

Saturday, 10am, Seoul U entrance?

[You sent a message:]

Sure.

I'll see you.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Good.

Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.

[You sent a message:]

Fuck off.

You groan when Yves manages to charm you through text. Outfit ideas are already flowing through your head, and you sink your face into the comfort of your palms. Why do you even care about looking pretty for Yves?⁶

Well… that genuine grin she flashed after a muffled gasp of surprise when you wore a dress once in the past month was gorgeous on her. That was why.

You remember Yves actually having the slightest hint of a blush when looking at you, and she seemed to be a little less flirty that day, opting to take short glances at you when she thought you weren't watching. This newfound attention was… welcome. You couldn't deny feeling shy having Yves check you out. After all, you were just the nerd girl in class, and having this attention from a hot girl you could consider a crush not as much of a pain in your ass felt so good.

-----

Saturday arrives, and here you are, waiting outside Seoul University.

You choose to keep things simple: just a simple button-down dress with daisies printed on the fabric. Your hair is tied up in a cute bun. The pink backpack you carry completes the look, with a nice pair of flats.

The sun isn't too bright, and a cool breeze keeps you comfortable while waiting. You can't help but get nervous, though you know it is irrational to feel so. After all, this is just another study session. However, Yves's text to you earlier in the week keeps flashing across your eyes.

'Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.'

You know this is just a study session. However, a part of you dimly wishes that it isn't, before you hurriedly bash those thoughts with a hammer and then set them on fire.

The revving of a motorbike catches your attention before it zooms down the road. You can see the bike move across the lanes, then slowing to a stop in front of you. The rider, clad in all black leather, complete with jacket and boots, seems to freeze in front of you, before slowly drawing the helmet off their head.

"Hey, babygirl."

Yves grins at you, her eyes sweeping over your body. Her gaze lands on your legs, moving up to your torso, your chest, and then to your eyes and hair.

The next words she mutters are meant to be kept to herself, but you hear her anyway.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Your heart takes off, pounding against your chest. You try to hide the flush on your face by staring at the ground, but you field a gaze to Yves, who looks a bit like a deer caught in headlights. She looks so handsome, so cool, and downright fucking hot at the same time.

Hmm… What would it feel like being pinned under her again?

The intrusive thought you have gets stamped out instantly, but the effect lingers—you can't help but check Yves out, feeling a rush of heat deep within your loins.

Her agreement with you was starting to look more and more appealing. Maybe you do have to teach her well.

"Get on."

"What?"

"Let's go. I gotta park the bike, and the cafe isn't close by. Get on."

Yves hands you a spare black helmet, and you hesitantly take it.

"Don't kill me."

"I won't." She grins. "I like you too much to think about doing that."

Your breath catches in your throat. It's not uncharacteristic of her to say things like that so easily, but maybe… just maybe… you want her to mean it.

You get onto the bike as Yves holds it steady. You don't know where to put your hands, but Yves grabs your arms, pulling them to wrap around her waist.

"Hold on tight, babygirl."

"Okay." You can't believe what's happening right now.

"I'm gonna go."

The engine revs.

-----

Yves trails behind you as both of you make your way to the cafe. Yves is quiet along the way, unlike her usual flirting if she caught you staring at her. When you glance back to her, you see her eyes dart away from you, staring at the floor as she swipes her hair back.

Weird.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Never been better, baby." Her reply is unconvincing, especially with a forced grin, but you don't want to really push her for a reply.

"Er… Okay. Sure."

Both of you make your way into the cafe, stopping by the counter to grab the menu. When you sit down at a table, Yves sits across you, her eyes locked onto you as you peruse your options.

"You're staring a lot today, Yves."

"Oh, um, er…" She looks away, her voice soft. This is very unlike her.

"Are you really okay?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm feelin' great, ready to learn, and get good." She leans back, resting her hands on the armrests of her chair.

Oh.

She has a crop top on.

Oh my fucking God, she has abs.

You short circuit.

Two columns of defined muscle greet your eyes, as if to mock you. It wasn't like she was someone you didn't find hot. Now, you have to find out that she also has abs?!

Your mouth dries instantly, and you grab your bottle, taking a swig. The cool liquid quenches your physical thirst, but your mental thirst…

"Don't look too much, babygirl. You might get hypnotized."

Yves tilts your chin up with a finger, moving to lean close to your face.

"My eyes are up here."

Holy fucking shit, she's so fucking hot.

You wonder how you didn't notice them when she had that fishnet and crop top combo. Maybe her pants covered them, maybe you were blinded in your dislike for her. Whatever, you've seen them now. No reason to stop… respectfully staring, especially when you can.

"Look at me."

You meet Yves's smoldering gaze.

"Keep your eyes up here, babygirl." Her warm breath against your lips makes you yearn to lean in and close the gap. "I don't want them anywhere else when they're so beautiful."

You whimper involuntarily, and Yves chuckles.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that?"

The shame that burns when you squeak and break your gaze to hide in the pretense of reading the menu is something you don't want to admit that you feel coursing through your veins, but it's there. When you lower the menu, Yves has her chin in her palm, her head tilted to the left, a satisfied grin on her features.

"I mean it, baby. You look really pretty today."

"T-Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let's order, I'm starving."

"Okay."

"Oh." Yves leans towards you, lowering the menu to stare into your eyes once more. "You'll get to see what you want to see when I ace the exams. Be patient, babe."

You groan.

-----

That night, you toss and turn on the bed incessantly. Every time you close your eyes, you can feel hot breath across your lips, smell the scent emanating off Yves, and sense her burning gaze on you. Yves's handsome features are burnt deep into your head, and just the thought of her sends your heart pounding and temperature rising.

You think of her abs under her clothes, the defined muscle jumping out to your eyes. She already looks so good, so delicious, and yet, things only go up from here.

The rush of heat between your legs doesn't help things.

You turn again, ignoring your basest desires. Bedtime it is.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #loona yves #ha sooyoung #loona fanfiction #loona fanfic #female reader insert #female reader

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permanentcrossfics · 3 years

Text

Twelve Hours in Miami // h.s. - Part 3

Read Part 1 Read Part 2

You held up the rubbery ring to him.

“M’not puttin’ that on,” he said.

You snorted. “Not even for me?” Even as a joke it felt demanding, assumptive, that he would do anything for you.

“I’ve got this,” he said, pulling the vibrator from your grip, “if I wanna do summat for you.” He frowned, feeling around, before he twisted it and it hummed to life in his hand. “Ahhhh,” he crowed. “There it is.” He grinned at you and you snorted.

“It’s weak,” you said.

“Sure about that?”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

Up later than intended here -- sorry! April was a very, very busy (but positive, mostly) month. Thank you for reading these unexpected pests -- I hope you enjoy. This is the last of their total twelve hour arc, but if you’re curious about an addendum, feel free to head on over to Patreon (however, it’s not necessary to enjoy this story, not to read at all if that isn’t for you). Happy reading, loves! x

1:11.

The harsh buzz of his phone vibrating on the nightstand made your eyes fly open, startled from your doze. Harry tightened his arm around you while his other hand shot out to grab it.

“What is it?” you asked drowsily, burrowing against his chest.

“Flight reminder,” he murmured, voice gravelly from his own doze.

Dread cemented in a lump in your stomach. Twelve whole hours together, and somehow it wasn’t enough. “You can use the shower, if you want,” you said.

“Probably a good idea.” He sighed heavily and dropped his phone on the bed. “Later.”

“Harry….”

“Later,” he repeated, wrapping his other arm around you and drawing you tighter into his chest. “I’ve got time.”

Not enough, you thought but didn’t say.

Four hours and a little bit to go, and they were going by much, much too fast.

Twelve hours. Twelve precious hours, and you were spending so many of them sleeping, too, with both of you falling in and out of it, curled up together under the thin sheet. Every time you’d opened your eyes and seen the clock, your heart had picked up in a spike of anxiety, but when you’d looked at him and seen him with his eyes closed, brow furrowed, whistling through his nose, you’d groggily laid your head down on his chest until you were pulled back under, only waking again when a panicked thought would remind you of the truth.

Twelve hours and time was running out.

Cheek to his chest, you closed your eyes and listened to his breathing. He was warm and familiar. Despite being a recent occurrence, nothing about being pressed against him, skin-on-skin, felt new, or strange, or indecent.

“Are you tired?” you whispered in a sandy voice.

“M’exhausted,” he said, equally as garbled and worn. “Couldn’t fuckin’ sleep last night.”

“Because of me?”

You were teasing him, but he grunted and didn’t say anything else, and you opened your eyes, this new information settling in and making you hyper aware of the fact that he’d agonized over his decision to come to your room this morning.

“Why?” you asked, soft enough that, if he wanted to, he could ignore it. You wouldn’t hold it against him.

“S’only twelve hours,” he mumbled at last. “Y’know? Not sure if that’s really fair.”

You noted the use of the present tense and burrowed your cheek closer, squeezing him around the middle.

The kit that had been delivered was on the table next to the clock radio. It was an embarrassingly lurid fucsia thing, and the man who’d delivered it had hardly been able to look you in the eye. Wordlessly, you reached across him and picked it up, resettling into his side to pluck at the plastic sealing it. He, to his credit, didn’t say any one of the smarmy lines that would be all too easy to indulge in, and when you popped the top off, the contents jumped out. Two condoms, which you pressed into his chest and he snickered under his breath, catching them. A packet of lube, a miniature bullet vibrator, and….

You held up the rubbery ring to him.

“M’not puttin’ that on,” he said.

You snorted. “Not even for me?” Even as a joke it felt demanding, assumptive, that he would do anything for you.

“It’s weak,” you said.

“Sure about that?”

You didn’t say anything, but your mouth went dry, and you shivered as he drew it up and down your arm and then across your chest and over your nipple lightly. Squirming, you grabbed his wrist, and he snickered, his voice breaking with exhaustion when he repeated, “Sure about that?”

“You’re an idiot,” you declared.

“Sure about that?”

“Yes!”

He laughed, but when you pushed away from him, he went after you and you shrieked, flattened into the bed, and you thumped his back. “Harry,” you said, grinning despite yourself, breathless from his weight.

He pressed scratchy kisses into your neck, and you could feel his chuckles against your skin as he peppered them up and down the column and then over the top of your chest. When he nuzzled your breast, though, your breath hitched, and his next kiss on your skin was more reverent -- a small touch of his tongue before his lips fell tenderly to complete it. Laughter fell away gradually, replaced by sighs and the gentlest moans from both of you -- his deeper and drowned in his throat and yours higher and unrestrained, urged on when he kissed harder, the vibrator abandoned somewhere neither of you cared about.

“Is this ok?” he mumbled without breaking away. He kissed the inside of your elbow and you gasped, fingers sliding into his hair as you nodded breathlessly.

“Please,” you said. “Please, Harry--”

He shuddered, then, and you jerked when he bit down sharply just under your breast. The jolt of adrenaline shot straight through you, and he kissed and nipped his way up your sternum, down over your belly, and then back up until he was at your shoulder, and it was then that you lifted your head and opened your mouth.

“Fuck!” His groan was deep and you could feel him tense under your touch, shuddering in your bite. Seconds later, you made a sharp noise when he returned it on your shoulder before turning your face into his cheek and nipping his jaw. He rewarded you with another groan and caught your lips in a kiss that quickly deepened and you whimpered, pushing your hands up his back to pull him closer. His cock was hard in the crease between your thigh and pelvis, and you moaned when he rutted his hips once, twice, instinctively seeking relief.

“M’gonna….” He swallowed hard and your hands simultaneously reached for the abandoned contents of the kit scattered in the sheets. You got a condom by your fingertips first, and you clapped your hand to the back of his neck to hold him in the kiss before letting go to fumble with the packet. You slid the latex disk out before he lifted up for you to roll it onto his cock in one quick motion, and you smoothed your hand down to finish the job.

“Good?” you whispered. He nodded, eyes barely open and his jaw tight and sharp. He exhaled with rattling force, then, and dropped his forehead to your shoulder. You kissed his at the same spot you’d bitten, and when he shifted, you opened your legs wider and swallowed back your beating heart.

“Ok, I’m…” he mumbled, turning his face into your neck. He peppered kisses up it and your jaw, and you inhaled sharply when he rolled his hips over yours, cock nestled over your clit. You whimpered and dug your left hand into his back while his own laced with your right next to the pillow your head was on. “Ok?” he prompted, voice strained.

You nodded quickly. “Mmhm.”

He kissed you through his first slow, sinking thrust, dipping in and out of you to give you time to adjust and open easily for him, swallowing up each of your noises and taking your deathgrip on his playing hand in stride. You were wet, and it wasn’t difficult or painful, but it was… he was… a lot. You pulsed with each bit more he stretched you, and you could feel him throbbing inside you, too.

“You’re ok,” he mumbled against your mouth. You sighed, parting your lips when his tongue dipped between their seam, and he took the inch you gave him without a moment’s hesitation. You groaned together on his next thrust, and you squeezed your thighs around his hips when he repeated it, finding his angle to glide in and out.

You huffed laughs and sputtered gracelessly against each other’s mouths, in a raw, unskilled and unpracticed way that was analogous to an inability to walk and chew gum at the same time but, somehow, held more primal appeal. You were robbing each other of finesse and patience, each one as guilty as the other, and there was some pride in that, too. If you focused and separated out each sensory experience, you could feel his necklaces dragging against your skin, back and forth in time with each roll of his hips.

His moans were what killed you, though. Soft, lazy rumbles trapped in his throat and smothered into your mouth, his own curved in unspoken pleasure. There was something selfish in the way he grabbed you, held you, kissed you, fucked you, trying to get everything all at once because he wanted it. He broke with one that went straight to your toes and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Look at me,” he pled. “Look at me, look at….”

You cracked your heavy lids open and caught his tremulous smile as he nodded. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glinted under the shadow of his sweaty hair. “That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s it, honey… oh….”

His eyes fell shut with his groan and you had the distinct thought that he should be looking at you, too, if you had to keep your eyes open. Your mouth moved uselessly, though, yielding only whimpers and soft iterations of his name. You kissed his neck, his jaw, his shoulder, and his bicep, feeling borderline hysteria swell in you because nothing was enough. Nothing satisfied you, you wanted your mouth everywhere, your hands, his mouth and hands. Twelve hours wasn’t enough. It was almost over and you’d just gotten him.

“Harry….”

He must’ve heard it in the way you said his name, because he thrust harder, then, each fall of his hips heavier than the last and punctuated by grunts that were beyond man.

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Please… please don’t sto-- oh!” Pleas turned to babbles and you clutched him closer, hands slipping and finding their place on his body again each time. Both of you descended into a language neither of you spoke but somehow understood, following a path made up of instinct and cues. When he rolled over and took you with him, you bore down on his chest and squeezed his hips with your thighs as he guided you by yours, restrained but encouraging, but it didn’t last long before he groaned gutturally through his teeth and his stomach tensed to pull himself up. You locked your arms around his neck as he found your mouth again, but you were just finding your rhythm when he broke with a shuddering breath.

“Over,” he whispered. “Over-- on your-- is that--?”

Between the both of you, you managed to clamber off him, and you melted from your hands and knees onto your stomach, holding the sheets in your fists with your cheek pressed into the mattress. You shouted wordlessly when he thrust in again, his hands on your hip and ass, and your eyes watered with the even, deep rhythm he found. You could see his lips moving and eyes rolling up in the mirror on the wall, and you stared, transfixed and with your abdomen growing tighter and heavier.

“Tight,” he said under his breath in awe. “Tight, tight, fuckin’... fuck….”

You turned your face into the bed and your pitchy moan echoed through the mattress.

“Lemme hear,” he said. “Oh, lemme….”

“I wanna--” You gulped, mouth dry. “Harry, I wanna--”

“I know,” he muttered, his thrusts rough and choppy. “Fuck, I know, I know….”

Whimpering, you lifted your hips slightly, and it was then he pulled out completely again and rolled you onto your back. “C’mere,” he said, pushing your knees apart. “C’mere, good girl.”

He pressed his fingers to your clit and your back bowed away from the bed as you cried out, throat tight. He stroked, and pressed, and teased until the room was spinning from how your head rolled from side to side. You were pretty sure he was inside you when you came, but your orgasm was so deep and powerful all you could do was hold onto him through it and cling to consciousness through endless pulses. You went lax with a wet, ugly sound, and he followed suit in seconds, trapping you against the mattress. You writhed together, seeking grounding relief, and he tucked his head into the crook of your neck as your knee went between his thighs, arms winding around the other and slipping on sweaty skin….

“You’re ok,” he groaned. “You’re o-ok.” He smashed a kiss to your shoulder and you absorbed every rattling breath he took. He sputtered laugh. “G-got you good there.”

You nodded and closed your eyes against the spinning room.

***

3:50.

You didn’t even remember falling asleep. One minute you weren’t and the next you were waking up to the sound of your shower running. You sat up with a start, hand flying out beside you, and you blinked, quickly doing the math. Just over an hour and a half left, and then he’d be gone.

“Fuck,” you whispered, dragging your hand down your face. You didn’t even know when you’d fallen asleep, so you didn’t know how long you’d been out or how much time was wasted just lying there unconscious. Your robe was on the edge of the bed and you eased closer, with sore limbs and joints, until you could grab it to pull over your shoulders. You nuzzled the collar and took a deep breath, catching what he’d smelled like before the sex on it. From the corner of your eye, you saw a tied up condom in the wastebasket, and you snorted, burying into the soft fabric. You didn’t even remember him when he came. Not his face, or what he’d felt like, or any of it. You’d been so far gone yourself, you’d missed it.

Everything that’d happened had been real.

The bathroom door opened and you looked up as he strolled out in a towel. He met your eyes and you blinked, noting the softness in his features. He nodded, a slight bob of his head, and you returned it. When he dropped the towel, your lips quirked in amusement. Just twelve hours ago, the sight would’ve scandalized you in more ways than one. Now, you’d had sex with him and it was like he did this every day.

Clothes on, he moved through your room in organized chaos, gathering up what he needed and double checking this, that, or the other thing in the process. Already, he looked a little less like Harry, and a little more like who he had to be. Who he should be, who people expected him to be. Not even an hour ago, he was in bed with you, naked and unguarded, and now he was sharper and looking from the corners of both eyes.

“Do you have everything?” you asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” He looked up. “Yeah,” he said before you could ask again. “Yeah, I think… just feel like m’missing summat….” His brow was furrowed and again he retraced his steps through your room and bathroom and you stayed out of his way, curled up on the edge of the bed. You knew better than to get in the way of Hurricane Harry.

“I’ll keep it for you,” you said. “If you have. Or, you know—“ you went on, faltering when he looked at you— “send it on. Probably not to London, because you won’t be there for… but if you tell me where, or who, then I can.”

Where was he going? Who would he be with? Would he be coming home at all? Twelve hours had already been tight, but suddenly they felt scarce compressed between months of vague wondering and waiting.

“Thanks,” was all he said. “Ok.” He exhaled, smoothing his hands down his t-shirt. “I think that’s….”

You stood when he picked up his bag and followed him towards the door. Should you be? Was this pathetic? Trailing after him like—?

You squeaked when he stopped short and turned. “What’s wrong?” you asked reflexively. His eyes were wide and his jaw was set, sharp, and his face was a little pale even in the shadows.

“I’m gonna be back home soon,” he said. “Ok?”

“I know,” you said.

He licked his lips. “So when I get back….” he took a deep breath. “I’ll see you when I get back?”

You were working rapidly to fit the pieces of what he was saying together, and you nodded, although you weren’t entirely sure what you were agreeing to. How soon was soon? When would he be home? What would you be figuring out, and what did that mean in the meantime? Were you, even tentatively, starting something? What went with that, for him and for you? The idea of him even flirting with someone else made your insides molten. Before, the thought would tickle and prickle uncomfortably, but you’d had twelve hours with him where he was yours and vice versa. You’d slept with him -- knew things about him and what he liked, what made him feel good. He’d made you feel….

He exhaled, lips turning up at one corner, and he pulled his shoulders back. He looked simultaneously relieved and cocky. “Right,” he said, mouth still twitching. “I’ll see you when I’m back.” Before you could wonder, he slipped his hand over your waist and leaned in. The kiss was quick — not like most of the ones you’d shared over the course of the day — but he squeezed your cheek. “I’ll see you,” he repeated.

You smiled slightly and stepped back as he opened the door, and then… he was gone. Until he wouldn’t be again.

Twelve hours and everything had changed completely. Nuzzling the collar of your robe again, you turned and slowly padded back into your room.

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles fic #twelve hours in miami #twelve hours in miami 3 #permanentcross fic #permanentcross #original writing

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detectivereyes · 3 years

Text

Even If You Stumble A Step, You’re Still Moving Forward

Summary: TK and Carlos move into their new home post-finale and TK doesn't exactly make the best first impression on their new neighbors...

Notes: this was like a fever dream i had a few months ago and then i stopped writing but decided to revive it last night so... here we are. also title creds (and emotional support creds) to jillian @marjansmarwani because this fic wouldn’t exist without her. and also s/o to brit @moviegeek03 for being extra supportive of yet another fic where [spoiler] tk falls down the stairs again :/

read on ao3

TK shuffles through the maze of boxes stacked several feet high throughout their new home. The scene shouldn’t surprise him considering it was only a few months ago he was moving his own boxes into their old home. However it feels different knowing that most of this stuff isn’t actually theirs.

Well, it is theirs now he figures. But the fact remains that most of the stuff filling the space was either given to them by various members of the extended 126 family, or was recently purchased by TK or Carlos on one of their many trips to Bed Bath and Beyond.

They had taken their time searching for a new place to live. Owen had made it clear that they were both welcome to stay with him (and Mateo) for as long as they needed, but TK had known it was time.

So when a townhome popped up on Zillow that met all their criteria, they wasted no time booking an appointment with the realtor. They both had instantly fallen in love with the open floor plan and deck out back. Plus they knew the extra bedrooms upstairs may come in handy someday.

While they knew the vertical layout of the home itself wasn’t the best, having more stairs than either of them were used to, it checked every other box and was right in their price range so they had wasted no time signing the lease.

A few days had passed since settlement and now most of their days were spent trying to unpack and make this new house into a home. It would never replace the one they had lost, but it had been exciting to build this new home together.

Though on this particular day, TK found himself alone in trying to get settled in since Carlos had a shift. With the 126 still out of commission, possibly forever, and the department not having any openings for paramedics, most of the unpacking was left for TK.

After getting a good chunk of the living room done, he checks the time and decides to go out and see if the mail has come yet. Not that he’s expecting anything with their address still being so new, and not getting much physical mail anyway to begin with. But it still provided a good excuse to take a break.

TK opens the front door and starts to make his way down the set of stairs leading down.

He makes it about halfway before his attention is caught by one of his new next door neighbors, Mr. Martin- if he remembers correctly, exiting at the same time. Mr. Martin gives a friendly wave and TK goes to return the gesture.

Except, he’s not paying attention when he takes the next step, and he misses, his heel just barely hitting the edge of the step before he starts to go down. He tumbles until he comes to a hard stop at the bottom, with most of his weight coming down on his right knee, sending shooting pains up and down his leg.

The rest of his body is sore, and by the time his ears stop ringing, he can just barely make out a new female voice asking “Sir, are you okay?”

He opens his eyes, which he had not even realized he had squeezed shut at some point, to see his neighbor, Mrs. Bailey- his brain supplies, from across the street making her way over to check on him, worried lines painting across her forehead.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine,” he grimaces while pushing himself up to a seated position. He tries to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. Not the best way to make a good first impression on his neighbors.

“Are you sure, son? We can call for help if you need it. Someone you know, or 9-1-1?” Mr. Martin joins in the conversation.

“No!” TK interjects too quickly, startling both neighbors. He panics for a moment when the weight of the predicament settles in. He meets the gaze of both figures still staring at him, clearly concerned and waiting for him to say something. “I mean, I’m a paramedic. I’m fine. Or I will be fine. Thank you,” he flashes them both a quick smile before pushing himself up off the ground, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from his knee when he tries to put any weight on it.

Getting back up the stairs is no easy feat, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that both Mr. Martin and Mrs. Bailey are still watching him, concerned. Fortunately, they don’t know him well enough to try and follow or help. He’s not sure he would feel comfortable enough receiving help from some strangers. Half the time he doesn’t even feel comfortable receiving help from the people he does know.

He leans heavily on the railing, refusing to turn around out of fear of further mortification. Once he’s inside the home, he collapses right inside the hall, unable to go any further since his knee decided to stop cooperating.

A few tears pool in his eyes, and he’s unsure if that’s due to the pain or embarrassment. Not knowing what else to do, he takes out his phone and shoots a quick text to Carlos.

TK: we have to move

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the three dots to pop up before being replaced by Carlos’ response.

Carlos: ???

TK sighs and rubs his face, trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation.

TK: i feel down the stairs out front and all the neighbors saw

Carlos: Holy shit, are you okay??

He lets out a puff of air at that.

TK: you mean besides my bruised ego?

TK: no, i hurt my knee but i’m fine. that’s not the issue here.

Carlos: Okay, I’ll be home in an hour and you can let me be the judge of that. If I see any swelling, we’re going to the doctor.”

He rolls his eyes at Carlos’ worry. At worst, it’s a bad sprain, nothing that can’t be fixed with some icing and wrapping. But there are other things they need to worry about.

TK: you’re missing the point, carlos. the entire neighborhood thinks i’m an idiot. we can’t live here anymore.

TK knows he’s being dramatic, but the more he thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. The idea that these are people he’s going to have to continue to face everyday for the foreseeable future. And that now all they’ll be able to think about when they do see him. Now he’ll just be known as the guy who can’t walk down stairs.

Carlos: Relax, TK. I’ll be home soon.

TK: you mean our temporary place of residence which we will soon be moving out of

He doesn’t get a response after that.

His mind continues to spiral while he waits for Carlos to arrive. He knows the other man is likely climbing the walls trying to leave his shift early but it would still be awhile before he could be allowed to leave.

Left alone with his thoughts, his mind keeps playing out the series of events that happened minutes ago. He can't help but beat himself up over embarrassing himself like that. Ironically enough, it’s not even the first time he’s fallen down stairs, having taken a tumble down the stairs in Carlos’ place a few months back. And of course he would manage to injure himself that time, and this time as well.

He should at least try to get up so he can find an ice pack to lessen the swelling. Sitting on the floor up against the wall can’t be doing his knee any favors. Yet he can’t bring himself to move, instead resting his head back against the wall and sighing.

TK pulls out his phone again, cycling through the apps until he hears the tell-tale keys jingling in the already unlocked door.

As soon as Carlos steps through the door, he nearly trips over TK in the doorway. “Woah, hey! TK, are you okay?” he crouches down to TK’s level.

TK shrugs. Now that he’s face to face with Carlos, he can’t help but feel suffocated by another person judging him, even if Carlos’ worry comes from a place of concern.

“Can I take a look at your knee?”

TK nods, allowing Carlos to gently inspect his swollen joint. He winces as Carlos traces his hand around his kneecap.

“This doesn’t look good, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“No, it’s fine,” he quickly shakes his head. The worried look in Carlos’ eyes only makes his heart ache, and he can only try to find ways to make it go away. “Just help me up and we can ice it. It will look better once the swelling goes down a bit.”

Carlos gives him a look that screams I don’t believe you but sighs. “Fine, but if it doesn’t…”

“I know, I know. You’ll drag my ass to the emergency room,” TK gives him a reassuring smile.

Carlos returns the smile, and extends a hand to help TK up. TK accepts, and allows Carlos to take on most of his weight once he’s standing. They slowly make their way over to the living room, with Carlos softly depositing TK onto the sofa. He then disappears into the kitchen before returning with an ice pack in hand.

“Thanks,” TK smiles, trying to mask the wince as Carlos places the pack onto his knee.

“Do you want to watch an episode of The Office?” Carlos asks, picking up the remote and settling in the spot next to TK.

TK shrugs, knowing that Carlos is just trying to appeal to him by offering to put on his favorite show. The other man doesn’t even like the show that much, often finding the humor dry and tasteless, but TK thinks he just doesn’t get it.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

There it is.

“I just can’t believe I did that in front of our new neighbors. They probably think I’m an idiot.”

“I’m sure no one thinks you’re an idiot, TK,” Carlos gently reassures him.

“Yeah all the neighbors saw me make an idiot of myself,” TK sighs exasperatedly. “God, how am I supposed to face these people everyday now?”

“Hate to break it to you babe, but this is not a valid reason for us to move.”

“I know,” he sighs again.

“Besides,” Carlos continues. “If your track record has proven anything, it’s that this won’t be the last medical emergency at our new home. It’s good that the neighbors are getting used to it now.”

TK gives him a pointed look.

“I’m pretty sure this is the second time you’ve fallen down the stairs since we’ve started dating,” Carlos says with a light chuckle.

“Whatever,” TK scoffs. “At least the other time it wasn’t in front of total strangers.”

Carlos softens. “That’s true. But I’m sure the neighbors just care about you. I don’t think this is that big of a deal, TK.”

“You weren’t there though. It was mortifying.”

“What did they say, exactly?”

TK nervously looks down. “They asked if I was okay. And if I needed any help.”

Carlos raises his eyebrow, waiting to see if TK continues.

“They offered to call for help but I said no and went back inside.”

“See? They just care about you TK. I haven’t really talked to anyone yet but they seem like nice people.”

“I guess,” TK shrugs.

“I know, you’re still embarrassed. But if nothing else, they’ll probably forget about it by the next time we see them.”

“You don’t think I’ll be known as the ‘clumsy neighbor who can’t walk down stairs’?”

“Maybe the ‘cute clumsy neighbor that can’t walk down stairs,’” Carlos says with a smirk. “But we could always change that.”

TK cocks his head to the side.

“You think our new neighbors might enjoy some peach scones when we go over and have a proper introduction?”

“You really plan to charm our new neighbors with your baking?”

“You think it will work?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, I do,” Carlos grins proudly. He then leans over and gently removes the ice pack from TK’s knee, grimacing at what he sees. “This still looks pretty swollen, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

TK gives him a pained smile. “You sure I can’t talk my way out of this?”

“Nope,” Carlos says, popping the p. He stands up before extending his hand to help TK do the same.

TK accepts, shifting his weight and leaning into Carlos once he’s fully upright.

“You know, I think you may have a paramedic blindspot when it comes to your own health.”

TK lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

A week later, Carlos softly knocks on the door of Mrs. Bailey’s home across the street with one hand and a plate of peach scones in the other. TK had offered to hold the scones but when they went over to Mr. Martin's home earlier in the day, it was quickly discovered it was too difficult for him to manage getting up the stairs and holding the plate.

So he settles for letting Carlos do most of the work while he awkwardly limps up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing to keep some pressure off his knee.

After their quick trip to the emergency room, it had been determined that TK’s initial assessment was right and it was just a bad sprain. He was given a brace to help reduce the pain and a pair of crutches, which (much to Carlos’ dismay) he abandoned after only two days, citing that they only made it harder to get around their home which he can now say for certain has too many damn stairs.

A problem which seems to follow him as he also has to get up the stairs to greet his neighbors.

“Maybe we should have moved to a neighborhood of single level homes,” he states with a wince as he joins Carlos at the front door.

Carlos snorts. “We can take it into consideration if we ever have to move again.”

“God, please don’t say that. I don’t want to think about moving ever again.”

“Good,” Carlos gives him a soft smile. “Because I’m planning on staying here for the long run.”

“Me too,” TK returns the smile just as Mrs. Bailey opens the door.

“What a lovely surprise!” she exclaims taking in the sight of the two men.

“Hello ma’am,” Carlos says with a polite smile.

“We brought you some scones,” TK adds, gesturing to the plate in Carlos’ hands.

“Oh how thoughtful of you. Please come in. How are you doing?” she asks, turning to TK. “I’ve been worried.”

He exchanges a look with Carlos, the other man's face clearly saying I told you she cares, before turning back to Mrs. Bailey.

“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you for asking. It’s just a bad sprain. But I do appreciate your concern, especially the other week.”

“Oh, of course dear,” she says with a warm smile. “Now, you boys aren’t going to make me eat these scones all by myself are you?”

They both let out a light chuckle and exchange another glance before following their new neighbor, and friend inside.

#i've posted too much today #but i need share before i end up deleting it #but actually if it flops i may just delete anyway #whatever at this point #911 lone star #911lonestarfic #tarlosfic #my fic #usersaaya #userbones #reyeslonestartag #pragmaticoptimist34 #tuserpaige

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evilzoldyck · 4 years

Text

Hell is Other People

Admiring the heavy rock that was tailored perfectly to match your finger in silent awe you gleamed almost as brightly as the diamond which glittered underneath the moonlight.

You could hear the murmurs of your guests and the faint music of the orchestra playing in the background from afar as you stood in your private balcony to revere the ring that symbolised an emblem of eternal faith and affection. To be quite honest with yourself you hadn’t seen it coming, just earlier in the day you’re mulling over which dress to wear for the evening party that your partner scrupulously planned for since months, now that he had proposed to you in front of all your highly esteemed company it all made sense.

This was your engagement party.

Pleading with a resolute ‘yes’ for an answer, the colossal baroque hall erupted into an applause at the sight of the new happily engaged couple. Wiping a few tears of joy and sharing quick loving kisses from your partner he proudly showed you around where his parents eagerly took you in as part of the family. His Mother held you tight as if you were her very own and his Father kissed the back of your hand cordially in response. You’ve never felt so welcomed before, the warmth of having a real family was one that was foreign but comforting for you.

Taking a break from meeting all the guests he had personally invited to witness his ardent declaration of love, you stood alone in the cool breeze to process all the adrenaline in blissfully. To think, engaged during a peaceful warm season, you couldn’t believe you’re going to celebrate your anniversary every year on such a beautiful weather, making a special connotation to the word summer now.

Suddenly feeling an unwanted presence behind you, your face that was once graced with a contented smile had turned into a sour frown. You knew exactly who would turn the most happiest night of your life upside down, trailing after a bloody carpet and reigning chaos until the dawn rises.

The harbinger of death itself, Chrollo Lucilfer.

“So he’s finally proposed,” his dark timbre voice reverberated through the quiet night, startling such a tranquil silence. “I’d congratulate you on your engagement, but I can’t say I’m quite pleased.” There were hundreds of guards your partner employed on duty at the whole premise, guarding every entrance and exit making sure to keep trespassers at bay to keep this party perfect. Though with all the security money could by at your disposal, you weren’t completely surprised someone like him could get through easily, he is the head of the spider after all, capable of going in and out wherever he pleases.

“Chrollo,” you acknowdleged him with an air of indifference, turning around to the slightly to see him dressed in a fine black suit and tie, oddly appropriate for the occasion. “Where are the rest of the troupe? Couldn’t imagine you pulling off a heist on your own.” It was true, there were many treasures such as valuable paintings and ornaments all held in a considerable amount of monetary value scattered along the place, and even then, there were hidden assets stored deep underground that even you had just learned about, or perhaps he’s come for the family’s precious heirloom?

“No need to be so tense, it’s just me tonight.” He suddenly appeared before you, holding the hand in which the engagement ring was secured onto. Smiling bitterly at the glistening jewellery, he showed no movement or even an ounce of intention to take it away from you, rather he looked to be quite pensive as he studied it with a forlorn expression. “I don’t necessarily like to intrude, but it seems that I was uninvited by your charming fiancé.”

Taking your hand away from his cold hands without ever leaving your skeptical eyes off of his lackadaisical form, he reluctantly lets it go. “The feeling still stands.” Glaring at him with a scathing passion. “There is nothing for you to take here, nothing that you have not already seen before. Leave this people alone, they have nothing worthy of you to steal from.”

“You seem to be quite fond of them,” Chrollo commented motionlessly, closing the space even closer. “Perhaps even more than me.” A distasteful tone from him had you nearly shivering in your heels, however you needed to stand your ground you couldn’t let him ruin everything you worked so hard for.

“I’ve let you had your fun, released you from your ties, gave you time for yourself and now what do you do? Run into the arms of another man.” He trapped you in between his body and the stone carved balustrades. “Don’t tell me I’ve been replaced,” he whispered in bitter disbelief before placating himself quickly and placed a gentle hand upon your cheek. “My dearest friend, do I really stand no chance with you? Didn’t you once held me high in the standing of your heart?”

Your throat went completely dry as he bared his unbridled affections for you. “Once,” you answered truthfully. Years before in Meteor City you both shared the same vision, the same utopian perspective of your future filled with comfort through grim determination. However as time progressed he began to stray further away from what you both shared. You watched his avarice grow beyond expectancy, stepping over bodies to get what he desired without a vestige of remorse or empathy. Time turned him to be such a monster, an unrecognisable stranger who’s oddly keeping you alive by his side. “A long time ago, but now I barely remember the traces of where I held you in such position.”

Chrollo smiled sullenly at your response, as if he was expecting the daggers of your tongue into his heart. “You’re too cruel,” he detached the palm of his hand from your soft skin.

“I can’t help but ask after all this time.” He placed a hand against the railing, thoroughly interrogating you closely. “Was it fun, making me chase after you? Did you enjoy the idea of me grovelling for your attention, for you to spare me a simple kiss? I’ve circled the world for your heart and yet it never seems to be enough.”

He kept the bitter quirk on his lips as he continued, “like I’m never enough.”

Gripping onto the hard stone you willed yourself not to let your knees give out. Though he didn’t show it, you could see the raging storm of emotions in his eyes, the pain and betrayal he felt when you left and the sliver of intention to hurt you. You wanted to calm him down, pacify his anger like you did before when you were both younger. However you couldn’t reward his behaviour anymore, you couldn’t be on the same side where history would echo the time in which evil was left untamed

“What is it he has that I couldn’t give you?” He spoke so softly you could feel the sincerity in his words.

“It’s not something you could give me,” your tone as careful and gentle as ever around the capricious being. Unfortunately that set every fibre of his being on fire.

“Do you even love him?”

You took his challenging words as a personal affront to your integrity. “I find it hard to see if that is any of your concern.”

“He’s nearly twice your age.” Chrollo staunchly dismissed. “I see the way you look at me, you look at me with such anger in your eyes, like I’m the lowest being to walk on earth; a vermin with no moral compass.” The warm night air suddenly turned frigid at the sound of his strained voice that was holding back such malice. “And you’re right, but what differentiates me from you is that at least I don’t lie to myself.”

“And the worst thing is that you don’t even seem to realise it do you? You willingly use others for your own interests and discard them once you no longer had use of them. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you and I both know your true nature. You’re exactly like me- in fact you might even be worse than me, robbing people blind. I do my work in the dark but you do yours in broad daylight,” Chrollo stated. “I’m not the only monster here.”

“Don’t talk to me of hypocrisy when you value those philosophical books so much,” you angrily countered, noting how much time he spent on the ideas and theories discussed in heavy literatures such as the Leviathan. “Never have I met someone so ridiculously obsessed with Western perspectives on rules and regulations and yet completely disregards them in practice.”

“But isn’t that what’s so appealing about it? Of course I don’t take these words as gospel when there’s so many critiques to each theory. It’s too nuanced and complex to ever rightfully regulate civil society that who could determine what I’m doing is immoral? For Hobbes I’m merely exercising my right of nature as it is ‘the liberty each man hath, to use his own power, as he will for himself, for the preservation of his own nature,’ you remember right?” He quipped, reminding you of the times he shared his esoteric books with you, engaging in meaningful and intellectual thoughts until the candle burned out.

“I have not consented to the laws of nature and therefore I have yet to surrender my natural rights. Thus the sovereign is illegitimate to me and I’m under no obligation of the state as I have not entered in any form of contract bound by the will and rule of the sovereign. I’m not bound to any laws of this land for I do not conform to the will of others but myself. Plato’s Crito would further support his argument on the laws of consent.”

Scoffing at his misconstrued interpretation you vacantly refuted. “Hobbes also said that if there is reasonable hope in preserving peace to seek and follow it.”

“However I may think it not necessary or the best for my life to be best preserved then I may seek and use all helps and advantages of war.”

“Nevertheless all that is futile for his argument remains that the design of men is the willingness to put restraint upon themselves for a more contented life thereby. We should ultimately consent for the second law of nature requires that we should covenant for peace if others are willing.”

“If others are willing.” He repeated and stressed out the first word. “Do you remember where we lived? No person there would opt for peace, it’s every man for themselves. It is what he hypothetically calls the state of nature, a horrible nasty, brutish and short life, except it’s real. Meteor City is a lawless land and as he states that no contract could be formed in the state of nature. Thus this paradox leaves us in a perpetual natural state of mankind; war.”

“You know there’s more to philosophy than just the Leviathan, Rousseau’s Social Contract and Locke’s Second Treatise of Civil Government has a lot to say on your so called ‘freedom’. There is no advantage to stay in the state of nature, the natural progress of humanity is the establishment of a common political authority for the sake of improving our way of life.”

“Actually Locke and Hobbes states that the state diminishes our sense of freedom but is justified in doing so, by no means did they implied our freedom would be retained, and that, is what I don’t find an improvement.”

“Rousseau would disagree with you, the state is a necessary condition of our freedom for the sovereign is the construction of all through the general will and so is directly exercised by the citizenry. Therefore, this eliminates the tension between political authority and individual freedom.” You sighed, “Chrollo even if you wanted to retain individual autonomy over yourself you’d surely remember Mill’s first sentence on the harm principle, ‘the only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to attain it.’ In other words, as long as you don’t harm others you can do whatever the fuck you like, but you seem to struggle with that concept of freedom don’t you?”

He suddenly chuckled lightly at your remark. “How are you so quick to mark me wrong as if I had forgotten your favourite book?” You suddenly shifted uncomfortably on your feet as he smirked amusingly at your cornered form. “I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the revered Mary Wollstonecraft, we would often read her passages for hours didn’t we? A Vindication of the Rights of a Woman, well, I guess we’re both hypocrites here.”

“What was her argument? That women were rendered weak, lacked the use of reason, had no special moral value?” He droned on and looked afar as if he was in deep thought before returning his sharp gaze to yours. “You had a lot to say about the sexist social arrangements in today’s society, you argued that women are deprived of their natural rights to acquire virtue through the use reason. How Wollstonecraft would be so disappointed if she could see you right now, the most passionate proponent of her work devoting her energies in pleasing and making herself attractive to men.”

“Stop it.” You hissed as he jabbed at your pride, mocking your own words of the past to further humiliate your contradicting present.

“What were the words you used to quote to me? ‘Have women so little in ambition as to be satisfied with such a condition? Can they supinely dream life away in the lap of pleasure and render themselves conspicuous by practicing the virtues which signify mankind? Surely she has not an immortal soul who can loiter life away merely employed to adorn her person, that she may amuse the languid hours, and soften the carress of a fellow-creature who is willing to be enlivened by her smiles and tricks, when the serious business of life is over.’ Aren’t you becoming the women she is scathing about?”

“What’s so wrong with pleasure? Wanting to be taken care of? The want and human need for companionship and love is not one to be jeered at. Might it just even cross your mind that I chose this life instead of ‘building my faculty.’ Those texts described the social conditioning of women back in the eighteen hundreds, women have more options now and are more than capable to choose. Times have changed.”

“Have they?” Chrollo hummed. “Is the pleasure that you insist on promoting for you, or for him?” He rubbed the silky garment of your dress impassively. “Don’t you wish to be more than a pretty ornament? To have purpose and participate in the natural rights of mankind? ‘Virtue, says reason, must be acquired by rough toils, and useful struggles with worldly cares.’ Sure you are provided with goods and raiment but liberty and virtue are given in exchange. You could build your character by the sense of struggle of living-“

“How can you call that living?!” You exploded abruptly, pausing for a moment to realise that you were shaking all over as you stood in your designer heels before him with glassy eyes. “What we did- to those people, those families, it was never enough for you. I may be what I despised in my youth but I’m better off being an indulgence for others rather than taking account for mass genocide; for what I lack in virtue I make up for my own compassion.”

“How kindly of you,” he nodded absently. “Then perhaps we should test it. Referring back on your comment on Mill’s harm principle, you must know then that the cause of evil not only takes account of a person’s action but also their inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable for the injury.”

“What are you saying?”

“Let’s hypothesise that I would come back on your white wedding day and that I would kill everyone present during the reception, by learning this information, you then would be held responsible for each of their death.” You griped your hand so hard you’re sure that you’ve left specks of bloody crescent moon marks on the palm of your hands.

“I have no obligation of duty towards you, therefore the harm principle does not apply to me for I am not responsible or related for your actions.” You countered at his allusion to the other-regarding actions where a special role of obligation is placed within the liberty principle.

“No unfortunately you’re not,” he agreed. “But him, would you not protect him at all costs? Surely as your soon to be life long partner you would do whatever it takes to promote his health and well-being. If you would simply come back to me before the day of wedding, denounce your engagement and reinstate your affiliation and loyalty towards the troupe everybody gets their happily ever after.” He finally took a step back. “In failing to meet our obligations to others we are actually harming them.”

“I’m tired of your philosophical rhapsodies, if you were to kill others or even yourself I would not hold myself accountable so I suggest you’d best return to whatever matters you currently have and leave us alone.” You’ve grown anxious and wary of the dangerous connotation of his words and with the way he was impishly grinning at you suggested that he saw right through your bluff.

“Its getting late, you should return to your awaiting fiancé before he realises you’ve been gone for too long,” looking back down at the sight of pretty swirls of dresses on the ballroom quietly dwindling down as the night grew longer. “It’s reassuring to see that you haven’t changed at all, I missed our philosophical prattle.”

“I can hardly say the same, discussing Western philosophers on an engagement party is certainly not in the least enlightening, I suggest you turn to the East for matters such as these.”

Chrollo gave a half-suppressed laugh and an amused smile, one that was rare and sincere in which held no trace of malice or cruelty. “Before I forget to tell you, you look beautiful.” You didn’t let your hardened expression change when his comment took you by surprise as he slowly backed away from you and into the shadows.

You heard your name being called out by Thomas where he sighed in relief and ran towards you in a light jog before taking you into his arms. “So this is where you’ve been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he playfully chastised with a turn on his lips. He led you back inside the bright chandelier lit hall to bid your guests farewell for the night, however, you couldn’t help but glance back from your shoulders to see that Chrollo had disappeared.

Though his presence was now absent, his words still rang loudly inside your head. His confrontation of your nature, how the spotlight is too blinding for someone like you and how it’s just a matter of time you would run into the dark once more with your back up against the wall and tangled up in his web seem to be conveyed as a confident prediction rather than insults to your moral character.

Chrollo wasn’t here to steal anything, not even you, he wanted you to come to him on your own accord even if he had to force pieces to make you submit to his will. However, his appearance tonight also wasn’t meant for mere formalities, in fact he made his purpose and intention clear when he first spoke of the day you would finally be wed.

It was a warning.

#this is gonna be the last fic for a while :(#im gonna fuck off for a few weeks since my break is over #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader #hunter x hunter #yandere #genei ryoudan #yandere genei ryoudan #Phantom Troupe #yandere phantom troupe

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Apologies

ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day One: (Music, Seasons, Apologies) Honestly kind of seasons too a little bit.

A/N: WARNING: MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD. Writings without spoilers will begin on day four, come back then! This is probably the saddest thing I’ve ever written. Of course being me though, there is some comfort along with the hurt and a hopeful ending that will be pursued throughout the week. Hope you guys like it! Word Count: 4,280

Seriously, some major manga spoilers. Stop reading if you care! I’d hate to ruin someone’s day.

Shinobu rubbed her eyes against the harsh flash of light, blinking as the light faded into a much more manageable brightness reminiscent to that of a fair weathered day. She put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath, appreciating how easily the air rushed into her lungs without obstruction.

It was over, she had done it. With the help of Kanao and Inosuke, that demon would never eat another woman again. Shinobu was fine with being the bastard’s last meal since he had ended up choking on her in the end. Months of preparation had let up to this moment and she was grateful it hadn’t all been for nothing.

She had taken her time, ignoring the pull on her very soul. She wanted to make sure that the Demon Moon’s demise was certain. Now that he was gone, Shinobu found herself in a field of tall, green grass and wildflowers. Sakura trees were scattered around her in full bloom. Her demon slayer uniform had been replaced by an autumnal kimono that fit snugly over her body. The pattern was certainly a stark contrast to her surroundings, but she hardly minded.

The most prominent thoughts in Shinobu’s mind at the moment were related to why she was here, what was here? She felt like she was waiting for someone in this field. Her heart was heavy and her lungs felt tight. Rather than linger, she assumed it was some phantom pain left over from her final battle. She decided that she would walk to keep her mind off of it.

Each step seemed to make the very ground vibrate with energy that Shinobu could feel crawl up her skin in warm waves. She kept going and as she traveled, the scenery shifted around her.

She watched with parted lips as memories manifested around her, fading back behind her as she walked past, creating new ones beside her. If she stepped back, the older memories would rejuvenate and replay for her but she didn’t dwell long. She didn’t need any reminders of the life she left behind, she had squared away all of her business weeks ago while her body grew steadily more toxic. She had done what any person who knew they were going to die would do and took care to make sure she could pass on with no regrets.

Shinobu paused in front of one memory as muffled laughter caught her attention. It was a mundane memory of cooking with her pupils, joined by the Kamados and company. Something that they had done together several times. The smile that tugged at Shinobu’s lips was bittersweet. Yes, she had no regrets, but there was certainly a feeling of longing that she would have to learn to accept as a part of herself for however long she’d linger here.

Shinobu carried on as memories bad, pleasant and mundane came and went with no rhyme or reason to the order of their appearance. At some point she had allowed her mind to wander and the already muffled sounds devolved into white noise.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the afterlife, but it certainly wasn’t this. How long had she been here? Was she really expected to watch eighteen years worth of snippets from her own life? She had already lived it, it was short and painful but admittedly there was light in it too.

“Shinobu!”

She froze.

“Shinobu, doesn’t it look good? I can’t wait to try it, we did such a good job!”

“It does smell nice, doesn’t it?” Shinobu heard herself say.

She slowly turned towards the memory, she couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to. Gods, she could never give up an opportunity to see that girl again, even if it was all in her mind.

There was Mitsuri in all her glory. The memory was of one of their baking adventures with some western recipe Mitsuri had learned.

Shinobu smiled wistfully, watching herself wipe flour from Mitsuri’s flushed cheeks before walking on, allowing the memory to dissipate.

Not long after the crack of a wooden sword snapped up her attention.

“Why are you making yourself weaker?”

Ah, Shinobu remembered that day all too well. Mitsuri had been neglecting herself and Obanai had asked Shinobu to check up on her. It was hard to see someone gifted with such strength try to throw it all away. She was glad she had been able to help Mitsuri grow to be more comfortable in her own skin and in a way, she helped Shinobu do the same.

Another step, another memory. This one stung a bit actually. She and Mitsuri had been walking through the estate gardens together while the taller girl shared her woes about not finding a man stronger than her to sweep her off her feet and marry her.

“You’re so pretty and mature, Shinobu. I bet you could get a husband—” Mitsuri snapped her fingers, “—like that! Have you ever thought about it, Shinobu?”

“Marriage is something I’ve never given much thought to.” Shinobu had said, focusing her attention on a small, white butterfly floating through the breeze.

“Really? No man has ever made your heart race before? Usually when I meet someone I like, I can’t help but picture what the wedding would be like.” Mitsuri gushed.

“Oh? Have you ever pictured one for us? You like me best, don’t you?” Shinobu teased.

Mitsuri froze for a beat before her skin lit up and her arms started flailing. Her words were tumbling over each other making them unintelligible. Shinobu managed a laugh, allowing the conversation to be pushed elsewhere. The far off look in her eyes seemingly going unnoticed by her companion.

Yes, Shinobu hadn’t put much thought into marriage. She had never really seen the appeal of the men her sister, and then Mitsuri, had occasionally gushed over, but the idea of finding someone you would want to spend the rest of your life with did sound nice.

“That was never an option,” Shinobu sighed to herself, “not for me. I hope you find someone who will treat you right when the fight is won, Mitsuri.”

She continued on, walking a bit faster. She hoped the end would come soon because the novelty of this little trip down memory lane had run dry long ago.

More memories manifested and dissolved only fast enough for Shinobu to see snippets. Kanae and herself moving Himejima-san’s boulder, taking in Kanao and the other girls, feeding her fish with Nezuko, training Tanjirou, Zenitsu and Inosuke, teasing Tomioka, cultivating poison with Tamayo, a moment with her mother and father, telling Kanao about her plan that would ultimately take her life.

It was exhausting. Shinobu just wanted to be done. She did not see reason to dwell on her life. She had no regrets. She had no unfinished business. She just wanted to move on already.

“Ah!”

Shinobu stumbled backwards as a fog grew before her, blocking her path. Before now, the visions had only ran parallel to her. The cloud swirled with light painted edges, glowing faintly until the memory surfaced. It couldn’t have been more than a week before and Shinobu’s throat felt dry as she watched herself choke back another dose of powdered wisteria seeds.

The petals would have been a relatively harmless alternative, but the toxic seeds promised a stronger reaction and she could gain more potency from one seed than hundreds of petals worth of tea. Shinobu had been careful with her dosing, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t feel it’s affects on her body.

The image of Shinobu coughed, swallowing water in an attempt to soothe her burning mouth. She groaned softly, sitting back in her chair and gingerly cupping a hand over her stomach. She closed her eyes only for them to snap open at the sound of knocking at her office door.

“Shinobu, are you working hard in there? Can I come in?” Mitsuri had called from the other side.

Shinobu winced as she sat up, wiping sweat from her forehead. She took a deep breath and it scratched her throat unpleasantly but nonetheless, she fixed a smile on her face and called Mitsuri in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I saw, uh, Tamayo-san, was it? I was her and her assistant retiring for the day and I thought I’d get the chance to see you then.” Mitsuri said.

“You aren’t interrupting anything, I’m glad to see you,” Shinobu motioned for Mitsuri to make herself at home and she did so with a happy hum, sitting on top of the lab table Shinobu was sitting at. “Can I do something for you?”

“Well, there was one thing,” Mitsuri began sheepishly, lightly swinging her legs as she presented her hand to Shinobu knuckles up, “I grazed my hand during a round of Hashira training and I know I could patch it up myself, but you always do it better.”

Shinobu gingerly brought Mitsuri’s hand to her face to examine the superficial damage and nodded, “I can take care of this. One moment please.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Shinobu stood, hiding her pained expression by turning her head towards the medicine cabinet she kept in her office. She walked over to it, taking an antibacterial spray and some thin bandages before turning back towards Mitsuri, watching her with those bright pastel green eyes that reminded Shinobu of spring.

She stood before Mitsuri scooping up the damaged hand once more.

“This may sting a bit.” Shinobu warned quietly before spraying Mitsuri’s knuckles.

The older girl closed her eyes, the burning, prickly feeling causing her to whine. Shinobu chuckled good-naturedly bringing the hand closer to her face almost close enough to touch her lips. She blew a gentle, cooling breath of air over the knuckles.

“Does that feel better?” She asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Mitsuri blushed, looking down, “I’m sorry, that was childish of me.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Shinobu said seriously.

She finished wrapping Mitsuri’s hand and held it between her own. Shinobu looked up, a tired smile on her face.

“All done.”

“Shinobu, you look so tired. Are you well?” Mitsuri asked, looking concerned.

“I’m fine. The research I’m doing with Tamayo-san is just very involved and intricate.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” Mitsuri frowned.

“It refreshes me just to see you.” Shinobu had said without thinking. “Your vibrance warms me like the sun.”

“Really?” Mitsuri squeaked, her hands cupping her own cheeks as they bloomed pink.

Shinobu felt her own skin prickle as blood buzzed through her ears. She held firm though, even if she hadn’t planned to say something so... poetic, she did mean it. In fact, she had more she’d like to say. Ever since she had began her doses, she had become more and more aware of her mortality. The final fight was fast approaching.

“Really.” She replied simply.

“Aw, Shinobu!” Mitsuri launched herself into Shinobu’s arms, making Shinobu have to take several quick steps backwards to keep them both upright. “You’re making my heart go, ‘bwahh woo!’”

“Is that a good thing?” Shinobu giggled.

“Very!” Mitsuri nodded vigorously.

Mitsuri held Shinobu for a few minutes, humming and swaying. She really was like the sun. Shinobu could fall asleep standing up if it was in Mitsuri’s warm embrace.

Unexpectedly, Shinobu was lifted over Mitsuri’s shoulder causing her to release a surprised gasp. The position was uncomfortable for her stomach but it hardly registered in comparison to being carried by the taller girl.

“Mitsuri, what are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed. You’re so tired you almost fell asleep just then.”Mitsuri cooed.

“I can walk...”

“Let me be your legs for a little bit. It’s me paying you back for always helping me.”

Whatever methods Shinobu tried to use to coax Mitsuri to put her down proved futile. She simply strode through the halls humming and waving at any passerby she happened to see. Shinobu was embarrassed, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry. Not when Mitsuri was so genuinely happy.

Before long, they made it to Shinobu’s room. Mitsuri put her down and helped her get ready for bed. There was a part of Shinobu that disliked the treatment. It made her feel small and weak. There was another part of her however, that was desperate to keep Mitsuri close and if the older Hashira wanted to help her pick her sleep ware and brush her hair she would take it.

Before Mitsuri left, she even went as far as to tuck Shinobu in, stopping with her face close enough to Shinobu’s that she feared the Love Pillar could find every insecurity she ever held in her eyes. Mitsuri tucked back a swatch of Shinobu’s hair.

“Shinobu... sleep well, okay?” Mitsuri said after a moment.

“I will, thank you for bringing me here.” Shinobu nodded, her eyelids already drooping.

“Whenever you need.” Mitsuri smiled.

Before Mitsuri could leave Shinobu felt compelled to speak, to share that part of herself that she had been keeping from her friend.

“Mitsuri...” Shinobu paused, her throat clenched and sweat recollected on her brow. She was suddenly frightened.

“Yes?”

“... be safe.” Shinobu said instead, her heart ached at the sweet smile Mitsuri flashed her.

“I will. See you soon Shinobu.”

Then she left and the room was bathed in darkness.

Shinobu clutched at her kimono and fell to the otherworldly grass beneath her. Shinobu didn’t have any regrets. She refused to. What was the point of looking back on things she had no power to change? She didn’t want to be here anymore and the white noise of the memories around her only seemed to grow louder and louder until she couldn’t bottle it anymore and clutched her head tightly between her hands and screamed,

“Shut up!”

The sound dissipated.

“Enough!” Shinobu breathed raggedly.

Whatever sounds remained were carried off like whispers on the wind as if spooked by the Hashira’s sharp tone. Shinobu stayed glued to the ground, her hands migrating from her ears to cover her eyes instead as she tried to reign in her emotions. Why, she wasn’t sure. There wasn’t much reason to keep her feelings under wraps anymore, but one simply doesn’t swallow down their boiling blood for years and then stop, even in death apparently.

She fell onto her back, stretching out as best she could in the kimono she was wearing. She noticed for the first time that the sky was blank, just empty, uniform white that looked cold despite its brightness. It hardly matched rich greens of the tall grasses or the colorful wildflowers, the vibrant pink blossoms that fell from the trees.

After laying back for so long, Shinobu was beginning to think that this was it. She was destined to be stuck here forever. She sighed, there could be worse places. She felt a shiver roll through her body as the air changed suddenly, but she simply rolled to her side.

“...?”

Shinobu blinked, sitting up on her elbows to peer through the tall brush curiously. She thought she had heard something, but it sounded far off whatever it was. She shook her head and laid back down. It was probably just some remnants of her memories.

“...!”

Still indistinguishable, but louder. Shinobu’s brows creased and she forced herself to stand, looking for the source in earnest now.

A ways off, she thought she could see a figure in the sakura tree grove. She rubbed at her eyes. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. No one else could possibly be here. Why would there be? Whatever it was, it seemed to turn in Shinobu’s direction and noticed her as well. Much like Shinobu, the entity didn’t seem to know what to think of her but appeared to be cautiously making its way towards her.

Shinobu decided to move forward as well to meet them halfway. She was already dead, what was the worst that could happen? As she got closer it became glaringly obvious who the figure was supposed to be. Even though she was still a ways off, Shinobu would recognize that watermelon toned hair anywhere.

Shinobu stopped moving. Trying to process what this meant. Some other way to torment her perhaps? When she had first arrived, she felt like she was waiting for someone and that feeling was slowly dwindling down the closer they got. It was a feeling that chilled Shinobu’s blood.

The figure must have noticed she had stopped moving because now they appeared to be running, running as best as they could in the flowery kimono they were sporting.

Shinobu felt an urge to run in the opposite direction but her feet stood frozen to the ground as the person got closer and closer until Shinobu could hear her yell,

“Shinobu! Oh my gods, Shinobu!”

Shinobu stared wide-eyed watching Mitsuri run up to her with tears glistening in her eyes, her cheeks wet and flushed from the excursion. Mitsuri was a beautiful vision Shinobu couldn’t take her eyes away from and then, Mitsuri tripped and fell to the ground with an audible, ‘oomph!’, disappearing into the tall grass.

Slowly, Shinobu’s brain started working again and her feet moved on their own accord until she was kneeling beside the other girl. Her hands hovered just above her, afraid to touch.

Mitsuri had no qualms about it however, and made quick work sitting up on her knees to embrace Shinobu tightly while tears continued to smear down her cheeks.

Slowly, Shinobu hugged back. She couldn’t help herself. Even if this was just some hallucination, she felt compelled to comfort her.

“Shinobu, I was so sad! I heard a crow report your death while I was fighting. I thought I’d never see you again and I felt really terrible.” Mitsuri cried, clutching tightly to Shinobu’s kimono. Afraid that if she let go, the younger girl would disappear.

What happened? What was this? Shinobu couldn’t understand. She shook her head, Mitsuri couldn’t truly be here. She was going to live on because she was strong. She was going to find love and get married like she always wanted. She wasn’t supposed to be here with her.

“You weren’t supposed to die.” Shinobu said aloud, her voice wavered slightly.

“And you were?” Mitsuri sniffled, another tear rolling over her cheek. “What happened Shinobu?”

“I... I faced the demon who killed my sister. He devoured me, but at a price. Kanao and Inosuke finished him off.”

“At a price, what do you mean Shinobu?”

Shinobu turned her head away, “I had been dosing my body with poison for months before the battle. It was the best way to assure my victory in the end.”

“You were planning that all this time. I knew something wasn’t right but I didn’t even try find out what was wrong,” Mitsuri wiped her nose with her sleeve.

“I hope you aren’t blaming yourself, I wouldn’t have told you even if you asked what I was up to. You had your own demons to fight.”

“But I wanted to be there for you! I remember how tired you looked the last time I got to see you. I thought we had more time, but then... Oyakata-sama and the explosion. I thought we had more time.” Mitsuri repeated through shaky breaths.

“Mitsuri...” Shinobu frowned. She had convinced herself years ago that she was on borrowed time, but Mitsuri had never seen it like that. Had it been cruel of her not to share her intentions?

“There was so much I wanted to do with you, so much I wanted to say that I didn’t even realize until I knew you were gone,” Mitsuri loudly sniffled again and Shinobu frowned into her shoulder, “I didn’t have time to mourn you properly, I had to keep fighting for everyone. I had to help fight Kibutsuji with everything I had so no one we lost died in vain.”

“You fought against Kibutsuji?” Shinobu asked, feeling a mixture of awe with a sting of, what, envy for making it that far? Sympathy for having to forge forward as comrades fell around her?

“I, uh, ripped his arms off actually.” Mitsuri exhaled a weak laugh at Shinobu’s expression. “It wasn’t enough, obviously, but after that it was... pretty much over for me.” Mitsuri sat back a bit, one hand over her chest while the other cupped her head. The wounds she sustained were gone, but their effects were still faintly felt.

Shinobu gently took hold of the hand Mitsuri held to her head, placing it on her lap with a comforting squeeze.

“You gave your all. You should be proud of yourself, I know I am.”

“Thank you,” Mitsuri wiped her eyes with her free hand. “We did it Shinobu, I was kind of already out of it by then, but Iguro-san told me we won, that Kibutsuji was defeated.”

“That’s... that’s really wonderful to hear. That’s honesty incredible news.” Shinobu smiled warmly whilst tears stung the corners of her eyes.

“I wish we could have seen it together, Shinobu. The world without demons.” Mitsuri kept a brave smile, but it was a watery one. She pulled her hand tentatively back up to her tear stained face, still holding Shinobu’s hand so it was cupped between her own hand and cheek, “I wish we could have done a lot of things together.” She confessed in a cracked whisper.

“Mitsuri?” Shinobu searched her face, trying to understand, but if the tightness in her chest was anything to go by, she already did.

“Shinobu, I love you! I love you a lot and I’m so upset that I didn’t tell you before. I’m so sorry!”

Shinobu simpered and brushed her captive thumb across Mitsuri’s cheek.

“You actually told me quite often how fond you were of me. You needn’t apologize, I always knew you looked upon me favorably.” Shinobu comforted. Mitsuri shook her head.

“I’m in love with you!” Mitsuri spoke with conviction, her pastel green eyes sprung fresh tears like a spring shower.

Shinobu’s lips parted in surprise.

“I wanted to tell you, really tell you, but I was so scared you wouldn’t like me at all anymore if I told you. I thought, the more time we spent together, maybe I’d find the courage to tell you... Oh, Shinobu,” Mitsuri reached her sleeve out to the other girl and gently wiped her face. Shinobu hadn’t realized she was crying.

Once she fully registered it, it was like a damn had burst.

As Shinobu’s breathing become more labored, erratic, Mitsuri pulled her to her chest and Shinobu clung tightly to her kimono. Years worth of anger and pain came in the form of hot tears. She couldn’t help but think of Kanae in her final moments, telling her to find love, to grow old and have a happy life. Even if she had tried to do what her sister had asked of her, it was always meant to end in tragedy.

“I love you too, so much. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to tell you.”

“If I don’t need to apologize, then you shouldn’t either. It’s alright, it probably would have hurt more, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, it still hurts pretty damn bad.” Shinobu replied with a shuddering laugh and Mitsuri gave a weak giggle of her own.

They sat quietly for awhile in each other’s embrace, letting the rustling of the grass fill the silence between them. They could feel it, something was pulling at them, exhausting them as they tried to hold onto each other as long as possible. Whatever this supernatural intervention was, it seemed to be coming to an end. Mitsuri spoke up again, sounding quite fatigued as she ran her hand through Shinobu’s hair.

“Shinobu, if we were reborn again in the world without demons, could we try being together the way we only dreamed to be?”

“Of course, I’d love nothing more.” Shinobu whispered, reaching up to cradle Mitsuri’s face once more. Her arms felt heavy like lead.

Mitsuri hadn’t the strength to keep herself upright and slowly sunk in the direction of Shinobu’s body until their foreheads met. Shinobu, unable to keep them both up, fell to her back with Mitsuri flat on top of her.

“I’m really tired,” Mitsuri’s eyes drooped. She snuggled her nose into Shinobu’s neck.

“Yes, it won’t be long now.” Shinobu wasn’t really sure what it was, but it felt familiar.

“Shinobu, could I give you a kiss before I go to sleep?”

“Yes, please.”

With a grunt of effort, Mitsuri rose herself up slightly on wobbly elbows and bumped noses with Shinobu who was fighting to keep her eyes open. With perhaps a bit more force than intended, Mitsuri’s lips met Shinobu’s.

The kiss was ever so soft and a tad salty. It was rather short, but filled with loving intent. Mitsuri’s arms gave out and she came back down over Shinobu with a light grunt, her forehead bumped against Shinobu’s cheek. With a bit of effort, Shinobu turned her head, resting another kiss over Mitsuri’s hair, the other girl could hardly make a sound but Shinobu could tell she was pleased with the small affection.

It could have been a trick of her blurred vision, but Shinobu swore the once blank sky was now bathed in blue, a large, bright sun shining over them.

Shinobu smiled and allowed her eyes to finally fall completely shut, confident that she and Mitsuri would find each other again and enjoy the product of their hard work and sacrifice in another life.

#shinomitsuweek2021 #shinomitsu #demon slayer #kny #shinobu kocho #shinobu kochou #mitsuri kanroji #manga spoilers #kny manga spoilers #demon slayer manga spoilers

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limenysnocket · 3 years

Text

The Plan

Summary: It's your birthday (hooray!) and you still have to work (not so hooray). Nevertheless, you can still count on your friends to cheer you up, but not as much as your loveable boyfriend who insists you spend your birthday with him and a romantic dinner, rather than at a party your friends set up.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, Taika (yes, he gets his own warning), some content may be explicit-ish.

Request: @whatwememeintheshadows

A/N: So people are actually planning their fics nowadays???? Did I not get the memo or something??? These come straight from my head????

THIS IS SO LATE I'M SORRY. Happy (very) belated birthday.

Tags: @honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

○●□○●□○●□○●□○

Okay, so maybe work was less of a bitch today, you had to admit. People were nicer to you today, you got an extra thirty minutes added on to your lunch break just because, and, of course, you got a couple of dirty birthday cards and some cash, but that really shouldn’t matter, should it? What did matter, is that you would get to have some you-time, all by yourself, with your vibrator, a couple of movies, and some nice, low calorie ice cream (that tasted like total shit). At least... That’s what you thought would happen.

“You should totally come party with us! I’ve got the booze, Jess has the men, and we’ll make a whole night out of it! Alcohol, strippers, and dancing! How does that sound?” your friend, Enid, reiterated everything for you at least one thousand times today.

“If I wanted a stripper, I’d ask Taika to dye his hair, shave himself everywhere, and oil up a little. That’s the only sight I’d be happy to see, thank you,” you huff and smile. You appreciate the effort to get you out and about, possibly be a little frisky, but your heart just wasn’t in it, and that was much to Taika’s luck.

“Oh, come on. Taika can’t have that much of a grip on you! He has a lot of ‘female friends’, so what’s wrong with you having some ‘male friends’ hm?” Jess cooed to you, but you immediately whirled around, insulted that she would even suggest that you would do such a thing. And you were sure Taika had female friends, yes, but they were just friends. Nothing else. Although, his flirtatious behavior scared you sometimes, at parties. Some of the women would just swarm him, and you feared any one of them would catch his fancy more than you did.

“No. I don’t want strippers at whatever the hell you’re planning,” you stated again, firmly this time. Your two friends whined again, Jess lowering her head in defeat.

“Fine, but can we still bring booze? Invite a few more friends to party?” Enid asked, setting a hand on your shoulder and pleading to you with large eyes.

You chew at your cheek and think for quite some time. Your friends want to throw you a genuine party, and God knows how long it’s been since you’ve hung around a group of unfamiliar faces, especially since you started to date a Hollywood writer. Maybe it was just what you needed. Taika was supposed to be busy for the night, anyway.

You succumbed to the pressure, and nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “But if we get any noise complaints, your talking to the cops for me.”

“Hell yeah! You’re not going to regret this! Just you wait! Go home and clean your place up a little. I’ll be by in an hour or two to get things set up!” Enid clapped her hands together in mischief, and Jess suddenly looked more spry. You gave her a warning glance, and she only grinned back, before skipping away, chatting gayly with Enid at her side.

You can’t believe the shit you just got yourself into, and you still wouldn’t believe it, the moment Enid and Jess arrived with their arms full of cheap liquor, streamers, finger foods, and a bunch of colorful-looking lights that look like they just came from a Wal-Mart Christmas sale. As soon as you gave them the go-ahead, they started tearing shit open. Between setting up, your phone started to ping over and over again, as well as your friends’ phones. Apparently, just a few hours was enough time to notify everyone in LA about a party, who it was for, and where it was going to be at.

You just sat back and sipped on frozen margaritas (meant for the party, but it's your party so you didn't give two shits), until the party started and there was a heavy flow of people rushing into your home. Invited or uninvited.

When things started getting wild, that's when a pact was made. Enid and Jess would be cleaning up your house after this was over. You were already stepping over beer cans as it was.

You can't even say you were having fun there. You barely knew anyone. Most of the people there were just randoms looking for a good time, and unfortunately you saw some of them getting that good time in a dark corner. You made an excuse to run upstairs and lock all the doors of the bedrooms before anyone could think about getting there. That's what you thought, at least.

The party was getting to be too much, too quickly. In haste, you locked yourself into your bedroom, and took a step back. You could still hear the muffled voices and loud, posh laughter on the other side of the door. Those girls would pay. You rush over to your window, overlooking your backyard and see people divebombing into your pool, creating waves and getting people outside of the pool wet. People were leaving their trash everywhere, and many red, plastic cups floated in the (for now) clear waters. You didn't know how much more you could take. Maybe parties weren't your thing after all. Especially with strangers.

You sit back on your bed and you don't even bother looking out the window anymore. It was best to stay inside your room, if you didn't want to be molested or assaulted by some dumbass who thinks it's okay to anonymously grope women in crowded areas. Your face buries in your hands, griping to yourself how this would be over in a few hours. Right?

There's a subtle knock on your door, and you jump. It's in the regular, stiff-three order, so you are very hesitant about going and getting it. Then, there comes the "shave and a haircut" tune. Not a very good one, and kind of slurred, guessing by the way there was a loud thud at the very end, the person knocking was shoved against the door. Damn you and your pity.

You're quick to move, despite the strong feeling telling you not to. You just knew some poor soul was being smooshed out there. Fuck, you were nervous. This was screaming bad idea, but you were going to pull through anyway. The plan in your head seemed childish, but it should work fine if the person was desperate enough to get in. One quick swipe of the door, and you're golden! Surely...

You flick the doorknob lock and gulp, keeping a tight grip. On the count of three-- and after having to restart because another desperate knock jumbled up your thoughts-- you sent the door flying open. Sure enough, a heavy body came tumbling in with it, tripped, tried to balance, then ended up crash-landing cartoonishly into your bed, bonking their head a tad on the wooden post at the end of the frame. You hissed a little bit, then closed the door again. You rushed to their aid as the person looked up.

"I thought you liked private parties more than this," a soft, kiwi accent cooed at you, obviously through unbridled pain. This bewildered you even more.

Taika was sitting on the floor, legs extended out in front of him, making him look like a giant from your angle, and he was dressed in a blue tux, black dress shirt, and polished black shoes. Well, they seemed a little scuffed now.

"Shit, Taika-- what the fuck are you doing here?" you drop to your knees and cradle his aching head. He winced at the touch, but was too happy to see you again to deny it.

"Well, I came to take you out on a surprise birthday dinner. Maybe pick up a bottle of wine and go dancing with my favorite person, you, under moonbeams and twighlight," his head bobbled from side to side, which didn't help his animated character, "but it seems to me you have company... and a lot of it."

You sigh and brush an unkempt curl back into place while he cheekily grins at you. "This wasn't my idea," you murmur. "Friends set this up. They'll also be the ones to take it down. I didn't really want to spend my birthday with anyone this year. Makes me feel old."

"Well, you seriously should have known someone was about to stop you from taking another bite of that shitty ice cream in your freezer. They dished it out in shot glasses down there. Even a sober chick couldn't handle the taste," Taika snorted playfully and you rolled your eyes. He seemed to be taking this situation surprisingly well. It was weird. "But it was much to my misfortune that your 'friends' got to you before I could. Maybe I should have settled on a birthday lunch, but that didn't sound too appealing to me."

"Would have been much better than the chicken salad and dry-ass piece of cake I had for lunch today," you fired back. He sighed again and stood up with a groan. You followed with him.

"What now?" he mumbled, stroking the stache on his upper lip, then letting the tips of his fingers wander down to his smooth, freshly shaved cheeks.

"Well, we're both stuck here, so I suppose we settle in for the night and wait it out." You plop yourself down on your bed again and just stare up at him. He doesn't move, however. His eyes were focused on the window, more specifically the lock on it, and he was nibbling at his bottom lip. He was thinking. Some people might call it strange to watch him think sometimes. He really was like a cartoon. With one tap of his foot, he spun around on his heel and faced you.

"New plan," he clapped his hands together. "Get dressed."

You were confused for the next fifteen minutes or so. He helped you pick out a deep blue dress that would somewhat match his and black heels. He was escorting you all over the room with his hand on your lower back. He even tried to do your makeup for you, but he was so inexperienced, you had to take over. The last time he had to do someone's makeup was on the set of the original, five-minute What We Do in the Shadows film.

While you finished your makeup, he was practically smooching your window. He was staring at it like a dog asking to go outside. It made you a bit nervous, seeing the cogwheels turn in his head. He took your hand and lead you to the window, unlocking it and pushing it up.

"Want to go first?" he said behind a proud smile. When he only received silence and a pure, "what the fuck," stare back to his face, he shrugged, and stepped out the window himself. Luckily, you knew fully well he wasn't about to fall flat on his face and die on the pavement below. You had a screened back porch, with a roof over it's head as well, since the seasons tend to get very hot and sticky and mosquitoes just love to lay visits. He stepped onto the roof, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. Once he had bounced down, he brushed himself off, then looked up at you, expectantly.

"Come on, then! Don't have all night!" he hollered and waved to you. "Need me to catch you?"

You gulped, not bothering to answer him. You gently scooted your lower half out the window and taking your heels into your hand. You didn't want to break an ankle on the landing. "Lord, give me strength," you muttered, squeezed your eyes shut, then took a leap of faith. You tried not to squeal as the rushing air flew by you like sticky wind, but before you knew it, your feet touched slanted ground. You felt like you were about to tumble, but strong hands met your waist and kept you up.

"Beautiful!" Taika beamed and kissed your flushed cheek.

"I hate you sometimes," you slapped his chest and made him laugh. He took your hand and started leading you to the other side of the porch roof, and came to the end, where your driveway supposedly was. Parked dead center was Enid's big, black SUV. Tall enough to just be a little hop away from the roof.

"One more, leap, dear?" Taika was on the move again, but you grabbed his sleeve before he could actually make the jump.

"Taika, no. That's Enid's car. She already spends so much on gas, think of how pissed she'll be if she has to remove dents from her roof!" you explain, nervous from the outcome of this little plan of yours.

"Sweetheart," Taika said airily, turning his full attention to you and taking your hand again. "If she was a good friend, she would have known a massive party like this would have pissed you off. Plus, I don't think just cleaning the house is going to get even with this God awful day. So, why not put a few dusty footprints on her car, hm?" Taika was back to grinning, and before you could say anymore, he had leapt away and landed on top of the car with a large thud. He motioned to you with a swipe of his hand. You were in way too deep with him to give up on him now.

You followed through, heels swinging in one hand, and he caught you again like the perfect, Maori prince charming he was.

Car hop, after car hop, he lead the way and made sure you were okay with every stop, until you reached a small enough car to hop down, scale the lawn and make it to his jeep.

"That was," you said, breathless. You couldn't find the right words, and Taika just chuckled at you.

"Exciting?" he filled in the blank space on his own, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," you laugh, fanning your chest and brushing a single strand of hair back. "That's a good word for it."

"Well, excitement doesn't stop here," he opened your door into the jeep for you, bowing respectfully and playing everything up for you, like you were royalty. "I have everything set up for you to have a great night with yours truly. As long as everything goes according to the plan this time..."

#taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #what we do in the shadows #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi x you #taika waititi/you

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romioneficfest · 3 years

Text

Tutor Girl

Title: Tutor Girl Prompt/Day: Day 10 - Movie/TV/Book Fusion Tumblr name: Rating: T Brief summary: Inspired by One Tree Hill Season 1 Episode 3 - Are You True? Any possible triggering/warning tags: None

Ignoring the vicious pounding in her head, Hermione tapped her wand against the giant pile of musty books, giving them the command to sort themselves into their rightful place. She massaged her temple as she waited for them to finish. It had been a long day and she was looking forward to the end of her shift at the library when she could curl up next to the fire in the Ravenclaw common room with her book before bed.

With her tidying completed, she returned to Madam Pince’s desk to collect her things. Knowing the librarian hated any sort of noise, Hermione gave her a curt nod to say goodbye then threw her far-too-heavy bag over her shoulder before finally leaving.

Although the corridors were already dark, she didn’t have to worry about being caught out after-hours, thanks to her Prefect badge. If she came across Filch as she made her way to the Ravenclaw tower, Hermione could just say she was on rounds. He wouldn’t know any different anyway.

She lit her wand then turned the corner, making her way towards the great staircase. Distracted by the thought of reaching her destination, Hermione didn’t notice the shadow stepping out from behind the suit of armour until it was standing directly in front of her.

“Hey!”

Hermione jumped a mile, placing her hand over her pounding heart as she struggled to maintain her composure. She lifted her wand, ignoring the tremble of the light as she surveyed her assailant; a tall, redheaded Gryffindor.

Growling in frustration, she dropped her wand to her side again and righted her bag before carrying on her way, trying her best to ignore Ron Weasley as he fell into step with her, easily matching her furious pace with his gangly legs.

“Can I help you?” snapped Hermione.

She had no time for the wizard ever since he’d started making her best friend’s life a living hell for wanting to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year. Harry had it hard enough as it is, without the added grief from Ron Weasley.

“Well, I hope so. You’re the lucky witch who gets to be my tutor.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t think so, Ron.”

He carried on walking alongside her, frowning at the piece of parchment in his hand. “But you’re Hermione Granger, right?”

She stopped in her tracks, grumbling in frustration as she snatched the paper out of his hands, lifting her wand so that she could read the writing on it better. “I’m sorry. I’m best friends with Harry Potter.”

“Oh, well. My commiserations then,” Ron quipped in return.

Hermione’s eyes rolled so hard, she thought she might have gotten a glimpse of the back of her head. She waved the note at him. “I’ll take this and speak to Professor McGonagall in the morning and see if I can get you assigned to someone else.”

Folding the parchment up neatly, she stowed it in the front pocket of her bag and continued making her way to the staircase, trying to put as much distance in between her and Ron as possible.

“No, no, wait.” He hurried to catch up with her, grabbing her arm to stop her from running away. Goosebumps covered her flesh as his fingers made contact with her skin, although she did her best to ignore the sensation. “There is nobody else. I’d be fine with that if there was—”

“...if there were,” she interjected, unable to stop herself from correcting him. A blush creeped up her neck as soon as she realised what she’d done.

“See, you’re helping me already!” Ron gave her a lop-sided grin. It lit up his ocean blue eyes, even in the darkness of the corridor.

“Look, I can’t help you, and on top of that, I won’t help you. Got it?” Pulling her arm out of his grip, she pushed past him, deliberately hitting him with her shoulder. She bit her lip as pain radiated from the point of contact. Ron was fitter than he looked, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing her aggression hurt her more than it did him.

“Don’t you worry about me, Hermione Granger,” he called after her. “I reckon I’m going to be just terrific. I mean, that’s what getting a T in Potions means, right?”

A rush of guilt washed over her as she hurried away. Although she wasn’t a Hufflepuff, the desire to help was strong, even for an awful wizard like Ron Weasley. But she couldn’t allow herself to get caught up with him, not with everything else going on.

⁂

After a restless night, Hermione sat eating her breakfast alone at the Ravenclaw table. Ron’s words bounced around her head every time she closed her eyes. As a member of the tutor group, it was her job to help students who needed it, and she hated letting someone down. Still, someone like Ernie might still be able to do an okay job with the Gryffindor Keeper, as long as they didn’t clash heads.

To add to Hermione’s anguish, Harry had owled and asked to meet her late last night. The Quidditch team had poured water into his kit bag, drowning all his books and his dry clothes and he was finally at his wits end with them. He wanted to quit, and it took a long time for Hermione to talk him off the ledge.

It was so unfair. He’d done nothing wrong, apart from wanting to join the team all of a sudden. They were short of a seeker anyway, and Harry was good. She just wished there was something she could do to help him.

A flurry of activity at the Gryffindor table caught her eye. The Quidditch team sans Harry were saying goodbye to each other, leaving Ron Weasley, their ringleader, alone to finish his breakfast. The idea hit her like a bludger, and she was up on her feet before she even had the chance to say Blibbering Humdinger.

Slamming the piece of parchment from last night down on the table, Hermione slid into the seat opposite Ron. Her sudden appearance caused him to choke on his toast. Although the thought of him passing away in front of her was very appealing, she wasn’t one for murdering her classmates, however annoying they might be.

Lifting her wand with a sigh, she cast the charm to clear his airway. “Anapneo.”

Ron thumped his chest then took a huge swig of pumpkin juice. When he finally recovered, he flashed her that huge lop-sided grin again. “Thanks for that. What are you doing here anyway, Tutor Girl? This isn’t the Ravenclaw table.”

“Look, I know you’re struggling in Potions, and you might end up getting kicked off the team if you can’t get your grades up. Snape is super strict, I get it. And if you’re genuine about wanting to learn, then I can help you.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “That’s great! I—”

“I have two conditions,” she interrupted. “One: Harry does not find out about this, ever. Okay?” She waited for his nod before continuing, “And number two, you leave him alone. No more pranks or hazing. Just let him play on the team.”

Ron’s eyes burned into her with an intensity Hermione had never experienced before. It was like he could see into her soul. She resisted every instinct that told her to run away, and fast. Instead, she slid her hands under her legs, and gripped hold of the wooden bench she was sitting on.

Finally, he spoke again. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Breathing out a long sigh of relief, Hermione relaxed. “Okay, good. Tomorrow morning, seven on the bench outside greenhouse three.” She pushed herself off the bench and smoothed out the wrinkles in her starched grey skirt.

“Wait, why can’t we go to the library to study? Rumour has it you live there when you’re not in class.”

“Oh ha ha. It’s greenhouse three or nothing. Take it or leave it.”

“Alright then.” Ron shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Seemingly done with the conversation, he continued with his breakfast.

No longer hungry, Hermione hurried back to the Ravenclaw table before anyone else saw them. She abandoned her half-eaten meal, scooped up her things then made her way out of the Great Hall, giving one final backwards glance at Ron, who was smiling to himself as he ate, looking very pleased with himself.

A flutter of excitement filled her belly as she passed into the antechamber and made her way to her first class of the morning. Maybe taking a chance on Ron Weasley might not be so bad after all.

#hpfic #romione ficfest 2021 #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #Ace Safe #Queue up for the Dragon

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mymoonagedaydream · 3 years

Text

Stranger’s Kiss

Summary: Heartbroken and lost, the neon city streets seemed to guide you to exactly where you needed to be.

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language, smut references

Author's Note: Cheeky little oneshot, hope y’all enjoy. It’s based around lyrics from Stranger’s Kiss by Alex Cameron.

---

Don't even bother climbing out of the well That ain't no way to get out of the hell that you're in

Four years.

You’d given him four years of your life, for what?

For you to walk into your bedroom and find him balls deep in some tramp from his office.

You left without a word, but it felt like something of yours had stayed there, with them. Like they’d chipped away a piece of you and left it lying there on the carpet.

As you walked aimlessly for hours, the city started to feel like it was dying around you.

The night was made of flickering street lights, sirens, broken glass and junkies. You thought about leaving, starting somewhere fresh, but what was the point? You'd have to take your baggage with you wherever you went.

Keeping your head down and your pace swift, you half-listened to the faded whispers of people passing you in the street, but even those were eventually drowned out by the pattering of rain against the sidewalk.

Turning into one of the city’s many dreary backstreets, you saw a solitary neon sign bathing the uneven concrete and murky puddles in a jarring red light.

The only place that was open this late, Stark’s Bar.

It was the end of the earth, the rock under which all the sad and lonely insects of the city crawled. You’d never been inside, never before sunk low enough to warrant a visit, but tonight it seemed to be calling your name.

As soon as you tugged the door open, the heavy scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke hit you like a wall, knocking you backwards. But inside was warm, dry and quiet.

That’s all you wanted.

Keeping your eyes fixed on the sticky, creaking floor, you trudged towards the bar, taking the first free stool you found. A broad torso planted itself opposite you, blocking out the dim light that streamed from underneath the crooked lampshades.

‘Double scotch.’

‘You sure you’re in the right place?’

The torso’s low voice came from above your head, but you didn’t bother glancing up. You didn’t have the energy or the inclination for conversation right now.

‘Double scotch.’

The dim light returned, only interrupted again when a tumbler flecked with hard water stains and half-full of liquor was dropped in front of you.

You stared at that glass for what felt like hours, just thinking.

There was no way you could go home tonight. You’d struggle to ever set foot in that apartment again, the whole place was scattered with painful reminders of everything you’d lost. Maybe you should call your mom, ask her to pick a few things up for you.

Tomorrow.

Tonight, just find a motel and sob yourself to sleep.

---

I know you're wondering why you wish you were dead And there's no solace in the fact that it's all in your head

That flickering red light just kept leading you back to where you knew you belonged.

You dropped yourself on the same barstool and waited for the torso to plant itself in front of you again, ordering the same drink as you had for the past however many nights you’d been here. They all seemed to blur into one.

Something different happened this time, though.

The shadow didn’t shift. You waited, eyes fixed downwards, but the dim yellow light didn’t return.

‘Are you alright?’

This was only the second time you’d heard the torso speak, but the voice was much firmer than last time.

‘Fine.’

‘So you’re depressed and a liar? Not a great combination.’

Your eyes shot up, widening a little as you took in the monolith of a man in front of you. His dark, stained t-shirt was stretched over his thick shoulders, bright pink lips trained into a slight smirk as he kept his gaze fixed on you.

‘Excuse me?’

He placed his hands flat on the counter either side of you, bracing himself against the bar and bringing his face down to level with yours. ‘You been in here four nights in a row. Ordered a double scotch without even looking at me, sat for a couple hours staring at it and then left without a word. You’re telling me you’re fine? Whatever.’

'Maybe it's none of your goddamn business, asshole.'

'So drink at home.’

You watched him back away, his sharp blue eyes only breaking from yours when he eventually turned around.

He was right, you definitely weren’t fine, but you figured the only thing sadder than drinking in this place was picking up a ten dollar bottle of whiskey from a liquor store and drinking it alone in your motel room.

Besides, it made you feel a little better knowing that you probably weren’t the most tragic loser in the place.

---

Don't bother flying when we jump off the cliff Make sure it's head first if you don't want to deal with what ifs

When you arrived the next night, a double scotch was waiting on the bar above your usual stool.

You flicked your eyes up to the bartender, who gave you a nod and a knowing smile as you climbed onto your seat, your gaze slowly wandering down the length of his arms. The way they tensed and shifted as he slowly polished a glass was almost mesmerising.

It was only a minute or so before he approached.

‘Still fine?’

Maybe it was the crippling loneliness, the bottle of wine you’d had earlier in your motel room or just the fact that he was the only human being who’d smiled at you all week, but the idea of opening up and spilling all to this perfect stranger really wasn’t as unappealing as it should’ve been.

‘Been better.’

‘No shit.’ He reached a bottle of scotch from under the counter and topped up your drink, knowing full well you hadn’t so much as touched it yet. ‘I always thought we should rename this place Rock Bottom.’

A faint laugh escaped your lips. ‘Funnily enough, that doesn’t make me feel much better.’

‘Maybe not.’ He edged your drink a little closer to you. ‘But this will.’

The golden liquid rippled around the glass as you plucked it from the bar, squeezing your eyes shut and necking it down in one.

His smile widened into an astonished grin, making your face begin to heat up and your chest tighten slightly.

‘Bucky.’

‘Y/n.’ You felt the corners of your mouth curl up slightly, a movement they’d almost forgotten.

‘Nice smile, y/n.’

Your gaze stayed on him as he went back to work, serving all the other hopeless nonentities propping themselves up on the bar. It only wavered when you felt your phone vibrate against your thigh.

It was him, your ex, asking if you could talk. He wanted to work things out.

Five days since it’d happened and this was the first time he’d tried to get in touch.

This fucking asshole had banged some random bitch in your bed, made you to live out of a duffle bag in a sleazy motel for almost a week and then expected you to come crawling back as soon as he whistled?

Fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He knew you’d be low and vulnerable. He knew you’d be tempted. He knew that, even now, you were still wrapped around his little finger.

And it hurts, and it hurts But I don't wanna talk about it

A rogue tear escaped from the corner of your eye, rolling halfway down your cheek before being quickly and firmly wiped away, its brief presence going unnoticed by most of the other figures scattered around the bar.

Most, not all.

‘Hey, you see that dude over there?’

Bucky folded his arms on top of the bar so he was eye level with you, gesturing his head slightly towards a white-haired man in a three piece suit, sitting alone at a table in the corner behind two empty martini glasses.

You had no idea where this was going, but you were pretty glad for the distraction. ‘Mhmm.’

‘Used to be a millionaire. Invested all his money in CDs in ‘98 and lost it all when Steve Jobs invented the iPod. He was married to Claudia Schiffer for a couple months but she left him when he couldn’t afford to pay for her nose job.’

A single, full-throated guffaw escaped your lips, making you clamp your hand over your mouth before slowly lowering it and muttering. ‘That is absolute bullshit.’

‘You got me.’ He leaned in a little. ‘Fun though, right? You try.’

You bit your lip slightly, gazing at him for a few seconds before reluctantly nodding and beginning to scan the room. This place was so full of eccentrics and weirdos, it was difficult to choose just one.

'Alright. Woman over there.’

Bucky twisted slightly to look at a very broad, stern-looking woman sitting at the bar, wisps of dyed red hair clinging to the moisture on her forehead. ‘Go on.’

‘She used to work security for Bryan Adams. The two of them were best friends, but he fired her after she got hammered and told him that she was in love with him. She can’t listen to Summer of ‘69 without sobbing, he broke her heart.’

His eyes darted back to you. ‘And how did she feel about that?’

Your gaze was fixed on your subject but it felt more like you were looking straight through her, your mind wandering somewhere else entirely, words falling into your mouth spilling out involuntarily.

‘Like someone shoved their hand into her chest, grabbed a handful of anything they could feel and just ripped it out. Like all the sensations in her body had been permanently replaced with waves of fear and dread that got better and worse at seemingly random intervals. Like the last four years of her life meant nothing to-’

You stopped suddenly, eyes shooting back towards him as you realised what you'd said. He stood up straight, triumphantly folding his arms across his broad chest, smirking down at you.

‘Bingo.’

'Oh what do you think you are, a fucking shrink?'

'In this job, gotta be.'

'Cause in my dreams, I miss you Then I wake up to reality's bliss

For the first time, you decided to hang around at the bar until it closed. You weren’t sure why, you had no idea what you were hoping would happen, but every minute that passed made your motel room seem less and less appealing.

Bucky called last orders, and minutes later the few remaining dispossessed wandered out into the red-bathed side street.

You hoisted yourself onto your feet, turning to leave but stopping dead when a full bottle of whiskey was firmly planted on the bar in front of you, a very smug-looking barman smirking at you from behind it.

The two of you sequestered yourselves to a snug, dimly lit corner and began sharing the liquor straight from the bottle.

As you stared blankly out the front window, you could feel his eyes roaming over you, a sensation you were enjoying far more than you were letting on. Being this close, you could pick up his faint scent of old spice and cigarettes, you could hear his deep, slow breathing and feel his muscular thigh pressed up against yours.

‘He messed you up pretty good, huh?’ You nodded faintly, keeping your gaze fixed forward. ‘Wanna talk about it?’

‘Nothing to say, really. After four years I caught him fucking someone else. It is what it is.’

He scoffed, taking a long swig before holding the bottle out to you. ‘What a fucking asshole.’

‘Mhmm.’

‘If it helps, my last girlfriend stole my TV to buy weed.’

You almost choked on a mouthful of liquor, just about managing to swallow it as you choked back fits of laughter. ‘That does help, actually.’

‘Thought it might.’ He reached over and gently pried the bottle from your hand, placing it on the table and shifting himself to face you. ‘Seems like we’re both shit outta luck.’

‘You’re not wrong there.’

As you slowly turned towards him, the wild look in his eyes made the hard thumping in your chest quicken, your lungs tightening slightly as you rapidly pulled in shallow breaths. You to adjusted yourself as his arm slid over the back of your seat.

Letting your eyelids flutter closed, you focused on the gentle stroking of his fingertips over your shoulder, the feeling of his warm breath brushing over your lips as he leant towards you, the soft pressure of the side of his nose against yours and the muffled bump as your foreheads connected.

Everything else melted from your mind, all the stress and misery of the last few days briefly disappearing in the distance as you just let yourself live in this moment.

His hand moved up to cradle the side of your face, drawing it towards his and finally closing the gap between you.

Now all I ever wanted and all I ever needed is right here In the stranger's kiss.

---

Permanent Taglist: @nnuree @tcc-gizmachine @emmabarnes @somewhatasoftbaddie @juenenfeu @ddowii @rebekahdawkins @x0xchristine @maevemarethyu @thechaoticargonaut @yayrainday @linkpk88 @mcolbz14 @indigo123789 @verygraphicink (Italicised names are untaggable)

---

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future.

The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK.

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/

I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post.

Words: 3116

Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.

Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On

Part 3: These Violent Delights

It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.

His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.

Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.

“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.

“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.

Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.

You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.

“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?

“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.

“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.

“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?

“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.

“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.

“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.

“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.

“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.

“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.

“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.

“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“

“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.

“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.

“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.

“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.

“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.

“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.

“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.

“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.

“Alec you are-“

“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.

“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“

“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.

“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.

“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.

“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”

“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”

“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”

Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.

“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.

“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?

“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.

“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.

You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?

“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.

“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.

“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.

“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.

“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.

You didn’t know how long that would last.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #yandere alec #alec volturi #alec volturi x female reader #demetri volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi #request #volturi #dark themes

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balaroo · 3 years

Text

Negative Reinforcement

Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku one shot.

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki was the last person who should be picked to give emotional support- especially when he's stuck in a hospital room and bored out of his mind, but Izuku had shut down after their battle with Shigaraki, blaming himself for not being able to stop the carnage. When not even their classmates can pull him out of his mood Katsuki takes it into his own hands.

Aka, Katsuki has to cheer up Izuku and it goes surprisingly well.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Soft Bakugou Katsuki, Worried Bakugou Katsuki, he's trying his best, It Can Be Read As Platonic But Who Am I Kidding, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Cuddling, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Friend, Post War Arc, not spoiler free, no beta we die like nighteye, this is so self indulgent you have no idea, Depressed Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Feels Guilty, One Shot, short and sweet

Author’s Notes: I'm not really happy with how this turned out honestly. I loved the idea but I struggled to write it well, forgive me. Anyway, wanted to post it before the leaks for the new chapter come out and break me. This is my fluffy interpretation of what should happen but watch Hori stamp on my dreams.

Set right after chapter 296, there are many spoilers ahead and a few guesses about what will happen next! Thank you for reading and please leave some constructive feedback if you can! I'm still very new to writing fics like this.

Cross posted on my AO3 account, the link to which is in my bio if you’d prefer to read it there.

Rest of the work below the line!

Negative Reinforcement

If there were two things Katsuki hated more than he hated everything else the first would be hospitals. The sour smell of disinfectant that clung to each surface and the constant background hum of machines slowly drove him insane, that combined with Katsuki's own opinion that he'd spent enough time in the damned places already did not make them appealing to him. The second most hated thing would be dealing with other people's emotions. Hell- it was tiring enough having to figure out his own, let alone being expected to somehow know what other people were feeling and even if he got that bit right he was still meant to act accordingly. It was exhausting, so he tried to avoid it whenever he could. In this situation, avoiding it was not possible.

When Katsuki first woke up his thoughts had been jumbled, fleeting and fearful, considering the last thing he could remember was bleeding out in a ruined city it seemed fair enough. The room had been dark, cast in shadow with only the soft flashing lights of various medical devices to give any indication that Katsuki hadn’t been thrown into a void. He’d tossed fitfully in the hospital bed for a second, not quite grasping his surroundings and cried out as white-hot pain shot across his chest as if someone were tugging on his insides. “Kacchan?” The familiar voice was quiet but echoed with desperation and Katsuki frantically sought out its source, twisting his head, eyes finally adjusting to the gloom until he could make out a dark mound on the far side of the room that was moving. Katsuki finally separated the figure from the pile of blankets and pillows, ruffled hair stuck out in all directions and if he tried hard enough, Katsuki had been able to make out the faint gleam of green eyes piercing through the darkness locked directly onto him. “Thank goodness.” Izuku breathed as he saw Katsuki twist to look at him, his form slumped again, fading back into the shapeless mass of the hospital bed and Katsuki twitched anxiously in response. He felt completely disorientated, the thoughts in his head were moving too fast to pin down.

He’d tried to respond but his mouth felt dry and his tongue heavy, barely managing to rasp Izuku’s name in a thick croaky voice he wasn’t sure the other could even hear, struggling to lift the medicated fog that wrapped heavily around his mind like a thick blanket. Mingled feelings of relief and fear flitted around his head as he began to remember the carnage and bloodshed- Izuku was here, he had made it out and that alone calmed Katsuki enough to relax back into the bed. But what about everyone else? Their classmates had been fighting their own battles all over the city. He had barely been able to focus but managed to form a few words, “The others?” Each breath, every swallow and twitch of his head sent fresh waves of pain rippling through his body, black spots threatened to overcome his vision but he fought through it. He could almost feel the other boy hesitating, it made him more distressed. “The class is fine.” Izuku had told him at last in a heavy voice, “You should go back to sleep.” Katsuki could remember thinking how defeated the other teen sounded. He’d ground his teeth together, feeling frustration building in the pit of his stomach that he was so helpless, unable to do anything more than shake and let his eyes fall shut again, slipping back into a fitful rest.

He woke the next day, feeling much more himself and determined to find out exactly what had happened but was immediately shut down by Recovery Girl who insisted he had to stay in bed or risk an even longer ban from training. Though, if he was honest, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve been able to stand up, let alone shake someone down for answers. Katsuki then tried to interrogate Izuku about it but the freckled nerd was annoyingly quiet for a change, spending most of his time with his back to Katsuki facing the bare white walls of the room. It was worrying, to say the least. Katsuki tried to tell himself that Izuku was just recovering from the wounds he’d sustained from All For One, damage that might not ever heal according to Recovery Girl. Izuku might never be able to use his arms in battle again.

Another day crawled by insufferably slowly. The only people allowed in their room had been Recovery Girl and a few different nurses who would bring food and water, all of which had clammed up the second Katsuki tried to ask them for news. He was frustrated with being talked over again and again, his hands tingled with a need to blow something up. So even by his own standards, he was in a lousy mood when their classmates were finally able to visit. Recovery Girl had forbidden the entire class from coming, “Only a few at a time.” She’d said as she’d been checking on their bandages, “If either of you reopens your wounds then I’ll have to put in overtime, and I won’t be quite so nice.” Katsuki snorted, tapping his fingers against the side of the bed impatiently. He’d spent the morning trying to coax a conversation out of Izuku. Well, not so much coax as annoy or tease, but they were solid tactics that usually got a reaction. Today, however, he got nothing more than one-word replies until Katsuki had gotten so annoyed he’d just given up completely. He’d prefer it if Izuku would just yell at him, yelling he understood. Just say Katsuki had made him mad, anything other than this stony silence. It had Katsuki on edge.

He was brought back to the present as he saw Izuku move so he was sat up in the bed facing the door. Katsuki could finally see his face properly for the first time. It looked drawn and tired, eyes that were usually bright stared blankly at the wall and there were dark bags under them. Katsuki briefly wondered how much Izuku had actually been sleeping while he was turned away from him. He thought again about trying to get his attention but then the door swung open, banging against the wall noisily and making Recovery Girl tsk in irritation. Iida was the first through the door, his face was still bruised slightly in places and his wrist had some kind of support on it but other than that he seemed okay. “We are here to represent the class!” The dark-haired teen announced. His good hand gripped a mixture of brightly coloured heart-shaped balloons all with ‘ Get well soon!’ scrawled across them. Katsuki’s eye twitched. He’d never wanted to leave a room more than he had at this moment. The others were filing in now. Including Iida, Uraraka, Todoroki, Mina, Kirishima, and Sero were the first ones who’d come to see them. They all bore marks of the battle in some way shape or form. Todoroki had a bandage wrapped around part of his face and Kirishima’s left arm was heavily bandaged. The rest had scratches that had been taped up but it was their expressions that made Katsuki realise something was wrong.

They entered the room with forced smiles which were surprisingly eerie and didn’t match the dullness in their eyes. They all looked so tired. Though when they saw Katsuki and Izuku both sat up in their beds, watching them, they did seem to brighten up. Mina was the first to move forwards, dropping to perch on the edge of Katsuki’s bed with a loud exhalation, “You two had us all worried!” Iida was now tying his balloons to the leg of a table between the two beds and Uraraka hurried forwards carrying an assortment of chocolate that she put on the table as well. She then turned to Izuku with a nervous smile. He was regarding their classmates with a far-away look in his eyes but he did meet Uraraka’s gaze. “We uh- got those mint chocolates you like.” She began awkwardly, “How are you feeling?” Katsuki watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. He could tell she was taken aback by Izuku’s state but she was doing a poor job of hiding it. For a moment Katsuki wasn’t sure if the green-haired boy was even going to respond, then, at last, he smiled faintly, though it seemed more like a grimace, and said, “I’m okay.” A brief rush of relief hit Katsuki as he saw the boy sit up a little more, though he still had that glazed expression.

Then Katsuki’s view of them was blocked by Sero and Kirishima who moved a few of the visitors' chairs to crowd around his bed. “It’s so good to see you, man!” Kirishima exclaimed, he had a grin on his face and patted Katsuki on his non-bandaged shoulder as he sat down. “They told us you guys were fine but they wouldn’t let anyone come near you. Are you doing okay?” Katsuki growled and picked at a spot on his bedsheet where the thread had come loose, “I’m just about ready to break out of here, consequences be fucked.” Sero chuckled sympathetically and glanced around at the very clean, very sparse room, “Pretty bored then huh?” Katsuki’s patience was thinning rapidly. He was glad to see them all in one piece but if he had to walk around social niceties to get a straight answer from someone he really was going to lose it. “Not just that,” He snapped, “No one here will tell me anything. What the hell happened after the battle?” He didn’t miss the way Mina caught Kirishima’s eye with a startled expression as he turned to look at each of them in turn. When no one offered up a quick answer Katsuki had to stifle another growl, they were holding something back from him and he knew it. “I know we’re here because the bastard set his Nomu’s loose or whatever and they thought they’d come after us, but why hasn’t anyone told us anything? All Mig-” Katsuki broke off and stared bitterly at his hands. He’d been about to say All Might hasn’t even been to see Deku but he didn’t want Izuku to overhear him. He could hear Todoroki talking faintly in the background so he hoped the other invalid teen hadn’t been listening to him about to point out the obvious but Katsuki was mad the former symbol of peace hadn’t been to see them yet. If anyone could pull Izuku out of whatever stupid funk he was in, it would be All Might.

“Bakugou…” Kirishima started warily, “A lot happened, we’re-” He stopped mid-sentence and glanced helplessly at Sero. “We’re not supposed to say much.” Sero finished for the redhead, “They said you needed more time to heal befo-” “Fuck that.” Katsuki snarled, his stomach was twisted into knots with anticipation. He wanted to stomp his foot like a child. Maybe break something against a wall. If they left without giving him any answers he didn’t know how much longer he’d have to wait to have another chance. They were all watching him with concern and Katsuki realised he’d been gripping the covers tightly in his fists. He let go quickly but he’d already left scorch marks smouldering in the pale blue sheets. He struggled to relax his jaw and tried again, “If I have to lie here one more day without knowing what’s going on out there, I really will get out of bed and find out myself. That sound like a great way to heal to you?”

It was Sero who broke first, “I guess, I don’t think I could stay still either.” He admitted, looking at Kirishima who sighed but murmured in agreement. “He does have a point,” Mina said from where she was still sitting at the end of the bed, “And I wouldn’t put it past him to sneak out.” She stuck her tongue out playfully as Katsuki glowered at her, but he was silently glad to see her acting normal. Kirishima breathed out heavily, slumping forwards in the chair and meeting Katsuki’s gaze. “What do you want to know first?” “How is everyone?” Katsuki asked immediately, “We could only get them to tell us no one else from the class was in hospital but that was pretty much it.” Smiling softly, Kirishima nodded, “Everyone’s okay. Kaminari wanted to come today but he’s still on bed rest.” He waved a hand as Katsuki opened his mouth, “Just in his dorm. He got a pretty bad knock to the head but he’s fine, really.” Katsuki closed his mouth and eyed the others quietly. There was still something they hadn’t told him, he could see it in their faces, in the smiles that looked too fake and the unspoken grief he could feel around them.

“What happened?” Was all he asked, “Something went wrong, didn’t it?” He could almost see their facade’s failing, Kirishima wouldn’t meet his eyes now and seemed very interested in his hands while Sero leaned further back into his chair, tugging subconsciously at the hem of his shirt. Mina’s head dropped and Katsuki could see her bottom lip trembling as she stared down at the floor, when Kirishima offered a hand to her she took it and clutched it tightly, like a lifeline. Her entire demeanour changed in a few short moments. Whatever had happened, it really distressed her. There was another silent moment before Kirishima started talking again, “You were there when Aizawa sensei was hit with a quirk deleter round?” Katsuki nodded grimly, “He took his own leg off, I saw.” The redhead winced, “He’s still recovering, it was bad.” “But he’ll be okay?” It was Sero who answered, “We haven’t been able to see him yet but Shinsou said he’s doing better.” Katsuki wanted to relax but the other’s tone of voice sounded heavy. “There’s something else…” Kirishima began, “When we were trying to keep Gigantomachia from reaching the city we…” Another deep breath and his bright red eyes looked watery. “We lost Midnight.” Mina’s shoulders shook and her body convulsed in a choked sob but Katsuki could only stare in disbelief. Midnight had been their teacher for almost a year, she couldn’t just be gone. Katsuki’s focus wavered, his mind drifting. He could tell from their reactions what they meant and felt a deep pit open in his stomach. After everything that had happened, all the fighting, he never thought they’d actually lose someone. God, he was fucking naive.

The others gave him a little while to process it and Katsuki found himself wishing for the umpteenth time that he was anywhere else. “Bakugou?” Sero asked eventually and Katsuki quickly returned his attention to them. Mina’s eyes were red around the edges and he knew now why they all looked so drained. “How did it happen?” He managed to ask. His body felt oddly numb but when he spoke his voice sounded unsteady, even to himself. Mina leant forwards and breathed out shakily, “W- we don’t really know. We hadn’t heard from her and then we just found her, lying there.” Tears trailed down her pink cheeks and she lifted her free hand as if she was reaching for something. “I was- I held her hand.” Her voice ended in a whisper, dark eyes hazy. Katsuki shifted uncomfortably, glancing away. He didn’t like being confined in one space for moments like this, it made him feel nervous as if he were trapped. Kirishima was trying to comfort Mina though he seemed just as broken down himself. Sero watched them sadly for a moment before glancing back at Katsuki, “Other heroes were killed too. No one we knew well but they got the number 6 hero, Crust.” The dark-haired teen hesitated before continuing as if he wasn’t sure how much he should say. “Most of the big heroes are out of action. Hawks and Endeavour are still in bad condition, Miruko as well. But they’ll heal.” He sounded unsure of himself. The numbness settled a little deeper into Katsuki and he closed his eyes. All the destruction he’d seen from Shigaraki’s quirk and then Gigantomachia tearing the city apart, he didn’t want to ask about civilian casualties.

There was silence then, nothing more to say really. Sero returned to consoling the other two, whether he was unsure of how to do the same for Katsuki or thought the blonde wanted the space Katsuki couldn’t tell, but he was grateful for it. During the break from their conversation, he tried to focus on what his other classmates were saying to Izuku. They’d arranged themselves near the freckled teen’s head and Uraraka was saying something in an upbeat voice. “Recovery Girl said you’d be okay to go outside for a bit,” the round-faced girl was saying, “Stretch your legs, maybe see Eri. She’s worried about you.” Todoroki and Iida murmured agreement but Katsuki could make out Izuku’s face between Kirishima and Sero now, he still had his eyes fixed downwards with that subdued look on his face. Katsuki wondered if they’d told Izuku about Midnight or if they thought he couldn’t handle it yet. “Maybe.” Izuku replied, Katsuki was vaguely relieved to hear this voice sounding a little louder, “I’m still really tired.” Uraraka and Iida exchanged glances. “We can uh- leave you to rest a bit more?” Iida asked though he sounded like he didn’t want to. When Izuku simply nodded mutely and settled back down into the bed, turning to face his back to them, Iida’s face fell. He said something quietly to Todoroki and Uraraka that Katsuki couldn’t make out but the three of them got up and made their way dejectedly towards Mina and the others. Katsuki wanted to yell at them to keep talking to him but he just stared worriedly at Izuku’s back, if he was refusing to talk to his friends, how could Katsuki get him to say anything?

Uraraka joined Mina at the foot of the bed, Katsuki felt the mattress shift beneath her weight as she put her head in her hands. Mina patted her on the back and Iida stood in front of her, looking concerned. Todoroki had come to stand closer to the Katsuki. He leaned forwards slightly, “Has he said anything to you?” He asked quietly, his eyes were anxious and Katsuki knew he was just as worried about Izuku. Katsuki wrinkled his face, not pleased with the fact he hadn’t, “No.” He returned to picking at the loose thread on his mattress. For a second, he thought he saw Todoroki smile faintly as if Katsuki’s reaction had amused him. But when he looked up, it was gone. “I feel so helpless,” Uraraka said through her hands, catching the blonde’s attention again. “He’s just…” She trailed off miserably and looked back up at the rest of them. Iida reached out to rest his hand tentatively on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. She gave him a weak smile in reply but still looked close to tears. Katsuki hated to agree with her but as he glanced across at the pitiful figure of Izuku, still curled up against the wall, his heart thumped uncomfortably hard in his chest. He felt like he needed to confront something, preferably something physical. If he could just get out of bed and blow off some steam maybe he’d be able to think clearly. But no. He was trapped here, in bed, with a bunch of emotional teenagers and no anger outlet. Definitely a worst-case scenario.

Katsuki finally drew his eyes away from Izuku as he saw Kirishima shift in his chair. He exchanged an apprehensive look with Sero and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something more. “Bakugou...” But Iida cut in before he could get anywhere. “We should let you get some rest.” Iida fixed Kirishima with a pointed look and the spiky-haired teen glanced away, still looking guilty. They all made a move to get up but Katsuki spoke first. He wasn’t going to let them leave without telling him the truth. The whole truth. “What are you hiding from me now?” He demanded, his voice bitter. He’d had enough of all the secrets now. More glances were exchanged between the visiting party and Katsuki furrowed his brow even deeper. “Tell me or get the fuck out.” He snapped at them, patience far beyond gone. If they wanted to keep shit from him, that was fine. Well, it wasn’t actually but he didn’t want them here if that was the case and if they kept looking at him like some fragile thing he was going to go feral.

Iida sighed at Katsuki’s brash tone and pushed his glasses further up his nose. He cast a look over his shoulder at where Izuku lay unmoving and shuffled closer to Katsuki, speaking in a low voice as if he didn’t want the other teen to hear him. “None of the teachers wanted us to tell you, but…” Another pause as he built up the nerve to continue. Katsuki blinked in surprise and his anger faded slightly. Iida going rogue? The strict class representative was finally getting interesting. Iida stole a glance at where Recovery Girl was sitting in her usual chair in the far corner, head bowed as if she were dozing. She certainly wasn’t paying them any attention. “You’re being kept behind U.A’s defences because not long after Shigaraki disappeared, he sent his Nomu’s to Tartarus.” A cold feeling was beginning to settle in Katsuki’s stomach, “All For One’s prison.” He murmured. Iida nodded gravely, “Yes. Most of the top pro-heroes were still out of action or unaccounted for- There was no one to stop him. He took back his real body and broke out some more nasty criminals along the way. No one’s seen him since.”

If All For One had his body back and control of Shigaraki’s powers as well as the Nomu, everything they’d sacrificed… Had it done anything? Katsuki shook his head as if shaking away the thought. No, he couldn’t think like that. They’d saved most of the city just by holding Shigaraki down, Gigantomachia too, it hadn’t been useless. He side-eyed Izuku’s bed again. Was it just his imagination or had the boy shifted slightly in his peripheral vision? Returning his attention to the others, Katsuki clenched his fists. Though he wasn’t happy that they were being guarded, he could admit it made a lot of sense. The U.A Barrier was pretty formidable but he wasn’t sure it could hold off the bastard if he really wanted to get to them. Another flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and Katsuki was sure of it now. “You should go.” He said to them. Kirishima started, “W- Bakugou, are-” Rolling his eyes, Katsuki interrupted him. “I’m sure, Shitty-Hair. Get going, I want to sleep.” The redhead hesitated then nodded slowly and got up. The others said their goodbyes and did the same, stacking the visitors’ chairs back up and piling them in the corner before heading for the door.

Katsuki was so focused on watching Izuku for more movement he didn’t realise Todoroki was lingering by the edge of his bed until he coughed. The other teen kept his voice low as he said to Katsuki, “You’ll talk to him, won’t you?” Katsuki knew what he meant instantly and scowled, “What do you think I’m doing, bastard?” Now piss off.” Todoroki backed off, but Katsuki could see that same knowing smile on his face as he turned away. Though he tried not to focus on it, Katsuki’s face felt flushed and he glared angrily at Todoroki’s retreating back. Soon, their classmates were gone and the room felt bare once again. Though Katsuki had been sure Recovery Girl was asleep, the moment the door swung shut she got slowly to her feet. The old medic gave Katsuki a wry smile. “I’ve got other things to get done. You two rest.” She paused, “and heal .” The emphasis she put on the last word made Katsuki uncomfortable again and he was sure she knew exactly what they’d been talking about. Then she left and it was just the two of them.

Katsuki took a deep breath and glanced across at the other bed. Izuku was still, his back turned to the room, looking pretty much dead to the world like he had done for the last few days. But Katsuki had been sure he’d seen him twitch when Iida had spoken of All For One. He was awake, and he must have heard what their classmates had said. “You should talk to them.” He said before he could lose his nerve. Izuku stiffened from across the room and Katsuki waited before continuing, “They’re worried about you.” The silence between them stretched longer and Katsuki was sure Izuku would just ignore him as he had done since he’d woken up here until finally, he shifted. “And tell them what?” The green-haired boy’s voice sounded so tired and bitter that Katsuki winced. He’d never seen Izuku so hopeless before. He’d always been the first to bounce back from everything, it was one of his most irritating qualities. “The truth. They want to help you, idiot.” More silence, then at last, “What is the truth?” Even quieter than before and Katsuki had to strain to hear it. Katsuki blinked, “Huh?” What the hell was he talking about? Izuku rolled onto his back and Katsuki caught a glimpse of his face. It was streaked with tears, more running silently down his cheeks and Katsuki’s chest tightened painfully. “The truth,” Izuku repeated, his voice catching in his throat. “That I wasn’t able to stop All For One. I was given this power to be a hero and I couldn’t even protect the people I care about the most.” Katsuki gawked incredulously at him, “ That’s what you’ve been upset about?” He demanded, “You have got to be the thickest person I h-” He broke off abruptly as Izuku lifted one of his heavily bandaged arms in front of his face. “Hey! Stop it. You’re not supposed to move them.” But the freckled teen didn’t seem to hear him, “All For One was right.” He murmured, “I’m worthless, I don’t deserve this power.”

Katsuki could only stare at him in shock- It was one of the last things he’d expected Izuku to be hung up over after everything he’d seen him accomplish in a single year. He struggled vainly to find something to say. This was the exact opposite of what he was good at. Izuku had dropped his hand back to his side, staring emptily at the ceiling, and Katsuki’s stomach twisted painfully again. Part of him just wanted to yell at the dumbass about how, well, dumb he was being. Could he not see everything he’d done? All the lives he’d saved? But his mouth felt thick and heavy, his heart pounded so loud now and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop from cursing himself. This was pathetic, not even able to tell Izuku, someone he’d been willing to die for, that he was impressed with him. What kind of person did he have to be to find jumping in front of those spikes easier than admitting he was wrong? If he was doing this it would be his way. The first step was to make Izuku realise how stupid he sounded.

“Deku.” He said after a few minutes of silence had passed, “Come here a second.” Wide confused eyes stared at him, “W-what?” “Come here.” He repeated. “Why?” Katsuki’s eye twitched, “Because I can’t get up and- Fuck’s sake, just move it!” The bedsheets rustled softly as Izuku pushed them aside and slowly got up. It was a bit awkward, not being able to use his arms to prop himself up, but he managed it and then stood there, pausing for a moment before he walked cautiously over to where Katsuki lay. He stopped near the top of the bed and Katsuki huffed in annoyance, beckoning the other one closer. Izuku still looked confused but shuffled another few steps forwards, leaning down until he was close enough for Katsuki to whack him upside the head. It wasn’t a particularly hard hit but Izuku still yelped and stared at Katsuki in disbelief, “What was that for?!” He whined loudly. Katsuki couldn’t help but smile slightly at the indignance in his voice, it felt like a long time since Izuku’s voice had sounded anything but broken. “Negative reinforcement,” he said, “When you say something stupid about yourself, I get to hit you.” Narrowed green eyes met his own but he was sure they seemed more focused than before. Katsuki sighed, shifting in his bed. “You really think you didn’t do anything to help?”

Izuku was watching him closely, his expression clouded with an emotion Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to figure out. But he didn’t reply so Katsuki continued. “For starters, the second you realised Shigaraki could track you, you led him away from the evacuation. Which was pretty fucking stupid because you tried to do it without telling anyone.” Izuku snorted but didn’t interrupt, he’d stopped crying now which was a win, right? Katsuki had to tear his eyes away from the teen, the itchiness he felt was back, crawling all over his skin until he ground his teeth together, hard. “Then you unlocked float,” Katsuki counted it down on his fingers as if he were making a list, “ And used blackwhip to keep everyone from being destroyed by decay.” Another finger down. “Kacchan…” Izuku said hesitantly and Katsuki glanced back up at him. Freckles stood out against a bright red face and he took another step forwards so he was right next to Katsuki’s bed. Katsuki raised an eyebrow, he was sure his own face was flushed too but he managed to keep his voice steady as he said, “What? Are you saying you didn’t do that?” Izuku shook his head slowly and Katsuki could swear he saw the hint of a smile begin to tug at his lips. “Exactly. Now shut the fuck up and let me tell it.” He heard a soft chuckle to his side and blinked rapidly, trying to remember where he’d stopped. It was an effort to keep talking. He didn’t like that reassuring someone else meant he had to say embarrassing things like this. “You managed to stop All For One from stealing your power then still got up and kept fighting him again. Am I missing anything?” Izuku was stood with his bowed, dark hair in his face but Katsuki could hear him sniffing and figured he was crying again.

Shoulders shaking slightly, Izuku looked back up and yep. He was definitely crying again. “I could only do that because you saved me! You, Lemillion, Todoroki, Iida, you all helped me. And I couldn’t even stop you from getting hurt!” Another sob shook him, “If I can’t protect the people I care about, what good am I?” Katsuki frowned and rapped Izuku’s head with his knuckles again. It wasn’t as hard as the first time, more like he was trying to knock some sense into him but it still made Izuku start. He stared at him, the tears in his eyes glittered in the harsh hospital lights and Katsuki faltered. He was sure his stomach was now trying to escape his body by making him want to throw it up but he drew in another breath to steady himself. “That’s our job, dumbass. We’re all trying to save as many people as we can.” Izuku shook his head, he moved forwards somewhat uncertainly to perch on the edge of the bed. It dipped slightly under his weigh and Katsuki moved further back towards the wall so Izuku could turn to face him, now sitting cross-legged on the sheets which took a degree of shuffling around. Katsuki was very aware of how Izuku’s knees were pressed against his side on the small space. It was through the sheets but he was sure he could feel it. When the other didn’t say anything about their new position, Izuku started again. “With One For All though, I’m meant to save everyone. That’s what I was given it for.” His gaze fell again, “Midnight, everyone who was killed, I should’ve saved them. But I couldn’t do it. I shouldn’t have this power.” He went silent, looking even more miserable. “They told you?” Katsuki asked. He tried to stay quiet but he was surprised Iida or either of the others would’ve said anything to him. Izuku shook his head glumly, “I heard the nurses talking when they thought I was asleep.”

Katsuki regarded him with a sad expression, that must’ve been why he’d been in such a slump, learning that their teacher was killed for the very thing he believed he should’ve prevented. He’d had the worlds biggest burden dropped on his shoulders in the middle of a war, but he wouldn’t ask anyone to help him carry it. Which was Katsuki’s fault. All through their childhood and then their teenage years, Izuku had just wanted to be included, he always tried so hard never to be a burden. Izuku glanced back up as he heard the other boy sigh, his face tinged pink, probably from all the crying, and Katsuki tried again. “Deku. You can’t save everyone, not all the time.” Izuku flinched and Katsuki hurried on, “Not even All Might could do that so stop putting so much pressure on yourself.” Those bright eyes were staring at him so intensely now but Katsuki couldn’t stop, Izuku had to hear this. He swallowed dryly, “All For One, One for All, they’re both cursed powers.” Izuku tilted his head to the side, “They’re not the same though,” He protested, “One For All is meant to help people.” Shaking his head, Katsuki struggled to sit up taller, ignoring Izuku’s worried protests. He had to make Izuku understand this. It was something he’d realised pretty soon after All Might told them about the other wielders of Izuku’s power.

“Just fucking listen, okay. One For All is only as good as whoever uses it. Every one of its past users died alone, trying to stop All For One because they thought like you. They thought they had to fight that bastard on their own so no one else would get hurt, but that’s exactly why they all died.” He stared straight into Izuku’s eyes, willing him to realise it. “If you keep trying to win by yourself then you’ll get killed. You have to let other people help you.” “But what if you get hurt again? What if you get killed? I don’t want that to happen!” Izuku’s voice was insistent, his eyes were set in the way Katsuki could tell he was going to be stubborn about it and his own temper flared up in retaliation. “What, and you think I’ll be okay if you die?!” The words were out of his mouth before he could think about them but he felt the heat creeping into his face as he realised what he said. It did succeed in silencing Izuku however, and Katsuki took the opportunity to keep talking. “Even if you did manage to defeat All For One, it wouldn’t be a victory for any of us-” He willed himself to say it again, “For me, if you get killed.” The heat was now spreading down his neck and he dropped his head to avoid Izuku’s gaze, frustration or something else was making his own vision blurry. The other boy was quiet and Katsuki very much wanted to curl up in a hole somewhere and think about what he’d just said for a few years or so. He resented how difficult this was. Neither of them moved until Katsuki heard Izuku sniff. He looked up in surprise to see more tears on the boys face. Had he said something wrong? Katsuki started to move forward and opened his mouth but Izuku shook his head, rubbing the tears off his cheeks with his shoulder. “Sorry, Kacchan. I’m just-” He sounded hoarse but there was a soft smile on his face, “When I was fighting Shigaraki, all I could think about was what would happen to you and everyone else that I-” “That you didn’t think about yourself.” Katsuki finished with a sigh, “I fucking hate that about you. Can’t be a hero if you’re dead, can you?” He’d meant it to be a rebuke but Izuku’s smile widened even more and he laughed. A proper laugh, the first time Katsuki had heard in what felt like forever, and he couldn’t help but relax at the sound of it. Okay, this sucked and he felt itchy all over, but it was rewarding to see the enthusiasm return to Izuku’s face.

The laugh faded and Izuku returned to staring at Katsuki with such a fond expression that he felt a sharp twinge of guilt in his gut. He knew Izuku had only ever wanted to be close again, like how it had been when they were kids, and he was still waiting after everything that Katsuki had done to him. Part of him wished Izuku would just hate him, it would be easier to understand for one thing. “Kacchan, thank you.” The soft voice broke him out of his thoughts, “Everything All For One said to me…” He trailed off and stared at his arms, still thickly bandaged and splinted. “I thought I had gotten past it but it made me feel so useless. I guess I’m still just Deku.” He said it so sadly that Katsuki felt the twinge grow into a gut-wrenching pain. That stupid nickname. Izuku had tried to reclaim it but it seemed he didn’t really believe it himself. Katsuki probably could have pulled his heart right out of his throat at this point, “Well, duh, Deku. You said you were always gonna try your best, right?” He tried to make it sound casual, but he was admitting to something he'd known for a while. That Deku hadn't meant worthless for a very long time.

The look of surprise on Izuku’s face only lasted for a second before his eyes filled with tears yet again, his bottom lip trembling as he sobbed out, “Kacchan.” Then he was launching himself towards Katsuki who promptly stiffened in shock. It was an incredibly uncomfortable hug to manoeuvre, it would've been without the weird position. Izuku couldn’t lift his arms so he sort of squished himself against Katsuki’s side, face mashed between Katsuki’s shoulder and neck. Katsuki’s heart was going haywire, he didn’t even notice the pain in his side and very slowly, he wrapped his good arm around Izuku’s shoulders, patting him clumsily on the back as he cried against his collarbone. “You’re pathetic,” He mumbled, uncomfortable with the silence, “Moping around for days and making everyone worry, bastard.” Izuku laughed between deep breaths, trying to stifle his sobs. “Should’ve said something earlier.” Izuku twisted his head so it was laying on Katsuki’s shoulder, “You’re meant to be nice to me, I’m upset.” He said though Katsuki could feel his lips curved in a smile against his skin. His face felt like it was on fire now, “This is me being nice, and you’re always upset about something.” “I know, thank you.” The other replied. Katsuki’s skin tingled where Izuku’s eyelashes fluttered against his neck, still blinking away tears. Katsuki wasn’t sure what to say after that. It was complicated. He knew Izuku needed him right now, but Katsuki hadn’t done enough to deserve it yet. It felt wrong to be so content that he was the one Izuku reached out for. Just be there for him now, he decided, be there for him and try harder to earn it.

He wasn’t sure exactly when Izuku fell asleep on him. At some point, his breathing evened out and he’d relaxed against Katsuki’s side. The blonde was still too wired to relax. Who knew a conversation could fill him with such adrenaline, he was struggling not to shift around and wake Izuku up. The boy had looked so tired, with everything he’d been holding in it wasn’t a surprise that he’d not gotten any peace. Katsuki hoped he would sleep soundly now. He was still awake when Recovery Girl stepped back into the room. She took one look at the two of them, curled up together on Katsuki’s bed and he was sure she’d say something about how they should be resting in separate beds, maybe she had to check their wounds or something and Izuku would be forced to move. He couldn’t lie that the thought made him a bit panicked. But she simply gave him a strange look, one eyebrow half-raised as if she were asking him a question. When Katsuki didn’t move the old lady shrugged, turning to leave again. She flicked off the light as she did so, leaving the room in dappled shadows as the sun sank lower in the sky. Was it that late already? He hadn’t noticed the time passing by but he was starting to feel tired. Emotions were just as draining, sometimes more so, than being in a fight, and Katsuki certainly felt like a battle had been won in that room today.

With a sigh, Katsuki accepted there wasn’t much more he could do at the moment. The warmth of Izuku against his side made him feel drowsy and he finally gave in- shifting in the bed as carefully as he could until he was lying down. He wrapped his arm a little more firmly against Izuku and smiled faintly as he felt him hum in response, pressing closer to Katsuki’s chest. Izuku was lying on top of the sheets and there wasn’t any way to get him under them without waking him up but there was a spare pile of blankets that rested on the chair closest to Katsuki’s bed and he managed to drag a couple closer to him, draping them over Izuku’s form. With that sorted, Katsuki could relax. He rested his head gently against the mass of green curls and let his eyes drift shut, trying to empty his mind. It didn’t matter if All For One was out to get them or if Izuku’s arms wouldn’t heal right. They were both alive for now, and they would figure it out.

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sodalitefully · 3 years

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It’s hazardous to breathe... [GNR Mad Max AU, pt. 2]

This is the second and final half of @smokeandmirrorz’s and my GNR AU inspired by the movie Mad Max: Fury Road! Thank you for reading, enjoy 😊

*Contains mpreg, character death, and plenty of unpleasant things from the Mad Max universe, including implied/referenced sexual violence, some regular violence/gore, and Immortan Joe.*

[part 1]

----

The sun-baked sand stung the soles of Slash's bare feet as he curled his toes and bit his lip and tried not to let the pain show on his face.

After the sandstorm and all the chaos that came before it, Izzy had decided that there was enough space between them and the War Party to take a much-needed break. And as much as Slash appreciated a drink of water and a chance to stretch his legs, he was more than ready for them to pack it up and keep moving.

With every gust of wind, he thought he could hear drums pounding and engines roaring, and with every step, he scalded his sensitive soles. But he didn’t like the idea of voicing his discomfort to the others, so instead he tiptoed back into the shade of the War Rig and sat on the side of the fuel pod, carefully perching his feet so that they wouldn’t touch the ground.

It had been years since Slash last found himself surrounded by people that he mostly-almost-kinda-sorta trusted, and he thought it might be a few more years before he relearned to act like it.

Steven was happily banging sand off the sides of the War Rig with a spare pipe. Duff was fiddling with the hose, looking at it in fascination like it was the Fountain of Life itself. Axl was taking inventory of the weapons, which spoke volumes about how much Izzy trusted him, and Izzy himself...

"Are you just planning on sitting there, or are you going to help, Princess?"

"Well I –" Slash wasn’t sure if he’d rather get up and tough it out, or explain the problem to Izzy, but Steven interrupted him before he could decide:

"How can you talk to him like that, Imperator?!" Offense was plain on his face, his sand-clearing weapon hovering near his head mid-strike.

Oh no.

"I'll talk to him however I want," Stradlin retorted, rather unhelpfully in Slash’s opinion.

"He's a wife! He was chosen by the Immortan himself to be one of his prized breeders! He's the most shiny, chrome –"

"Steven, stop, put that down..." Slash's weak attempt to defuse the conversation went unnoticed.

“You can give up the zealot act, the Immortan’s not here to give you a pat on the head for it! Slash isn’t his wife anymore and he’s never going to be again, so you better get used to it.”

The bomb went off. Axl drifted closer as Steven started shouting at Izzy, who tensed up, ready for a fight.

"You – You 'traitored him? You're stealing his wife for yourself, is that it? How could you, you fucking – "

"I knew you should have killed him to begin with. He's a fanatic, there's no saving him – "

"Slash deserves better than a weak, 'traitoring coward and his feral bloodbag! You're mad if you think you can get away with this, when the Immortan catches you, he'll – "

"Steven!"

Finally, Slash got his attention.

"Just... Come here. Stradlin, Axl, fuck off for a minute. See if you can pry Duff away from the hose or something, I don't care, just let me talk to Steven.

"Look, Stevie, just listen to me, alright? I asked Izzy to get me away from Joe because he was cruel and he was a liar, and we all deserve a better life than we were living there. None of us were happy at the Citadel, we just stayed because we believed him when he told us we had no choice. I'm not his wife anymore and I never was any different than anyone else, that was a lie too." He got up from his perch on the Rig, and tried not to flinch when his feet touched the burning sand. "Do you believe me?"

Steven didn't respond, couldn't even meet his eyes.

Slash didn't expect it would be easy for Steven to reconcile a lifetime of indoctrination with the truth that he suspected the War Boy knew, deep down, but the silent treatment still stung.

He sighed, and looked over to where the others were hunched over the War Rig's engine. Slash was practically useless when it came to mechanics, but surely there was something he could do to help.

He started to head over, but stopped in his tracks when something landed in the sand beside him: Steven's pair of heavy leather boots, a godsend to Slash's aching feet. He turned around to thank Steven, but his friend had already picked up his pipe and ducked around to the other side of the Rig.

"Why didn't you stay with me?" Axl asked, his hushed voice drifting on the bone-dry desert wind. "We could have survived together, had each other's backs. Why did you leave?"

It was past time for Izzy to go to sleep and let Axl take over keeping watch, but instead they were sitting side by side in the still-warm sand, staring at the lights in the sky in companionable silence. Just like old times.

"Resources. Better odds. The Citadel had water and I thought that if I played along with their little society for a while, I would come out ahead in the end."

"That's what you told me then, too... Your choice didn't exactly pay off for you, did it?"

Izzy clenched his jaw, swallowing the urge to snap at Axl's bluntness.

"... I thought it would be nice, that it would be the next best thing to what it was like before. I thought the Citadel would be civilized. I was wrong."

"What happened, Izzy?" Axl turned to look at him when he didn't get a response. Izzy could feel him eyeing the scars on his face, and wished he hadn't left his bandana in the Rig. "Why the fuck won't you tell me anything?"

"Why won't you stop asking?"

"I don't know, maybe because I care about you? I care about whatever happened to you while we were apart! I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, though, you haven't asked me what I've done in the past two thousand days – not even once!"

Izzy kept his eyes pinned on the dark horizon.

"For fuck's sake, you're going to have to tell me eventually." Silence. "Fine." Axl got up and brushed the sand off his clothes. "Why don't you just get some sleep, Izzy."

Izzy didn't move, but he could hear Axl walking around to the other side of the Rig, and climbing up into the turret. Stubbornly, he waited a few minutes before rising to his feet, climbing into the cab, and sitting down as if he was about to drive, with his eyes on the windshield and his hands on the wheel.

"Why won't you tell him?"

Izzy jumped at the whispered voice. He turned to see Slash, wide awake and staring at him, his eyes glittering black behind his hair.

"How long have you been awake?"

"I remember the first time I saw your scars," Slash told him, ignoring Izzy's attempts to signal that he absolutely did not want to talk about it.

Izzy remembered too, and it was far from one of his fondest memories. The Organic had just released him the day after the accident, and Izzy was still in a haze of pain when Immortan Joe summoned him to one of his chambers at the top of the tower.

Apparently, Joe just couldn't wait another minute to explain to Izzy in great detail what a disappointment he was. He sat on a cushioned throne with his wives gracefully positioned at his feet, and recited a speech that Izzy had heard a dozen times before – though usually not directed at him. Blah, blah, "mediocre," blah, blah, "not worthy to call himself a follower of the V8..."

The performance culminated when Joe informed Izzy that he would no longer hold the honorable position of his wives' personal guard. The Immortan could no longer trust someone so pathetic and disgraceful with their safety.

Izzy grinned at the irony. The scar on his face flexed, and Slash flinched. Immortan Joe laughed and took Slash's face into his hand so that he couldn't look away.

"Hideous, isn't it? Unlike you, my Desire, perfect in every way..." Slash had to stretch as Joe lifted his jaw higher, putting his body on display. "He may be a full life, but he's damaged, just like all the others. Even if he is chosen for the halls of Valhalla, he will never be as flawless as you. Do not be afraid, my Desire, for the Imperator is unworthy of your fear."

"I'm not afraid."

"Of course not, you're under my protection, after all..." The Immortan kept talking but all Izzy could remember was the way that Slash stared at him dead in the eye, his gaze darkened with an emotion that Izzy couldn't quite pinpoint.

At this point, Slash had only been at the Citadel for a hundred, maybe two hundred days, and even though Izzy was around the wives almost every day, he still felt like he didn't really know the newest addition to Joe's treasure vault. Slash was quiet and withdrawn, even from the other wives. He didn't talk about his life before Joe imprisoned him, but he must have been one of the more fortunate survivors, because he wasn't dazzled by the wive's luxurious lifestyle for even a second. Instead, he focused all his energy on fighting Joe with tooth and nail.

In the Immortan's eyes, Slash's wildness only increased his appeal, and fueled Joe's desire to tame his prize – turning tempestuous Slash into the the object of his Desire. Izzy could tell that Slash was smart, he quickly learned how to choose his battles without fully giving in. But what he didn't realize was that Slash's observant gaze was so often turned towards him, silently evaluating a potential enemy or ally.

In the present, Slash was giving him the exact same stare. Wide-eyed and piercing, as intense as the sun but as dark as night.

"I was jealous," he told Izzy with complete conviction, as if that was the only sensible reaction to fresh, disfiguring burn scars. "I wanted your scars, so that Joe would only look at me the way he looked at you then. You're lucky, you know?"

By the next morning, the past was forgotten – or at least, Izzy, Axl, and Slash collectively decided not to bring it up again. There were more pressing matters, plans to be drawn and decisions to be made. Just about nothing in the past 24 hours had gone the way Izzy imagined it would: First they took on a stowaway War Boy, then the deal with the Buzzards fell through, and now they found themselves aimless in the middle of the Wasteland with only another day's worth of guzzoline.

Ahead of them – barren desert, uncharted wastes, and a seemingly infinite expanse of lifeless salt flats. And behind them – as Axl helpfully pointed out – fresh water, green plants, and a veritable fortress.

And a War Party, did he forget about the War Party? God, maybe Axl really was mad, suggesting that they go back the way they came and face Immortan Joe and his lackeys head on. Or maybe, Izzy wondered, they were all mad for agreeing to go along with his plan.

As they prepared the War Rig for a very hard day's ride, Slash approached Izzy in private.

"Look... Stradlin. I know this wasn't what you planned. I'm sorry that you and Axl didn't get to make a clean getaway and put this hell behind you, I really am. But... Thank you."

"Thank me if we survive tomorrow," Izzy replied. Maybe he was trying to sound gruff and indifferent, but he and Slash both knew the Citadel’s ghosts far too well to believe it.

The Gigahorse was gaining on the War Rig fast, its monstrous tires bumping against the rear of the truck like a dog trying to mount a bitch, but neither Slash nor Duff payed the beast any attention.

Slash couldn’t tear his eyes away from the dark red stain on Duff's bandaged chest. It was growing – not like a seed, but like a wildfire, fast and merciless and deadly. He didn't know that it was still possible to feel like the world was ending, but now he thought that the emptiness in his chest, the cold heartbreak and furious hopelessness – this must be how people before felt when the world died.

Duff's fingertips touched Slash's chin and gently tilted his head up. Slash tore his eyes away from the bleeding wound to meet Duff's gaze.

"Slash, it's okay. It's all going to be fine." He took a labored breath. "Just... Remember me, alright?"

He was smiling, like he really, truly believed that everything would work out, even as he dropped his hands from Slash's face to pick up their last exploding lance and a half-gallon of guzzoline.

"No, Duff, please don't – " Don't go, don't leave me... The words died on Slash's tongue. It was hard to beg for mercy when he had long since forgone the belief that the Wasteland was capable of giving any.

Duff though, he believed. Maybe that was Slash's fault, or maybe it was something ingrained in Duff's soul from birth, almost a half-lifetime ago, but he believed he had a purpose, that he could put all the misery at the Citadel to an end, that he could help Slash to start his new life, that he could put an end to his own body's slow decay.

Duff took his last look at Slash's dust-streaked, grief-struck face – and then jumped.

At that moment, Slash wouldn't have noticed if the sun fell out of the sky. He didn't move or even breathe as the Gigahorse blossomed into a mass of blazing orange petals that forced apart its metal hull and consumed Duff and Immortan Joe alike.

Slash stared as the wreckage shrank away in the wake of the War Rig. Only a rising column of heavy black smoke was still visible when Axl reached a hand to his shoulder and gently guided him back to the cab.

They had to stop the Rig to collect Joe's body, knowing that they couldn't claim to have killed the Immortan, the undying, a god among men without proof. Steven jumped off the Rig before it fully stopped and took off running to see the corpse of a man he once worshipped with his own eyes. Slash moved to follow, but Axl blocked him and gave Izzy a pointed look.

For once, Izzy conceded without a fight. He wrapped an arm around Slash's shoulder and guided him back to his seat.

"Slash, you need to rest. Steven and Axl will take care of it."

Satisfied that Izzy would look after Slash, who was obviously in shock, Axl turned to follow after Steven, gravel and charred bits of metal crunching beneath his feet.

Steven stared into the gruesome wreckage, quieter than Axl had ever seen him and looking like he couldn't decide whether he'd rather run away from the pale corpse, or beat it with a lug wrench. Axl couldn't blame him, just the knowledge that the man had hurt Izzy for years was enough to make him want to spit down his ruptured esophagus. In the end though, exhaustion won over and they hauled the mangled body back to the War Rig without any additional desecration.

The rest of the wreck was... not salvageable. The Gigahorse might have been Joe's pride and glory when he was alive, but now it was no more than a heap of charred steel, a grim warning to all those who pass.

And as for Duff... There would be no gravedigging in the hard-packed clay, but Axl didn't think Duff would want to be buried in the toxic soil anyway. A mound of rocks would suffice instead, a tribute that Axl hoped would last for the rest of the lifetime Duff deserved.

When they finally climbed back into the cab of the Rig, Axl twisted around and reached into the backseat to press a dirty lock and chain into Slash's hands.

"Izzy... you have a responsibility for these people."

"Responsibility? I don't owe them shit. I was as much a prisoner at the Citadel as any of them, I'm not going back and if they have any sense they won't either."

"The water at the Citadel is too important to abandon. You have to make sure that no one else tries to do what Immortan Joe did, to hoard the water and use it to own people instead of helping them."

"Didn't realize that spending two thousand days on your own would make you care so much about the common good."

Axl turned away with a grimace. "You don't know what I've been doing since you left." He tried not to let it sound like an accusation, but Izzy got the message anyway.

“The kids are going to need you,” he added, still looking at the horizon instead of Izzy. “I mean, Slash is pregnant for fuck’s sake. You’re not just going to drop him off to deal with all the ghosts in that hellhole alone, are you? Especially after...” He glanced at the figure curled under his old leather jacket in the rearview mirror, making sure that Slash was still sleeping like the dead in the backseat.

"You're right. Again." Izzy sighed. "Fine. I'll stay at the Citadel, for a little while."

"Good." Axl rested a reassuring hand on Izzy's arm. "I'll go with you, alright? I'll help you do what you need to do, and then we can leave and never look back."

Slash stood on the carved outcrop jutting out from the tallest tower in the Citadel. His skin was tanned, his hair was wild, and a steel chain with a broken lock was twisted into the stained cloth at his waist. Above his head, the skull edifice was scarred by a jagged gash, no longer a monument to the Immortan's false glory. Below his feet, fresh, cold water churned impatiently in the irrigation channels, desperate to be released.

Steven stood behind him, a bit battered, but the encouraging grin on his face was no worse for wear. On his other side, Izzy surveyed the scene below, and a few steps deeper in the shadows Axl lurked impatiently, trying not to let on his anticipation.

The crowd of formerly-Wretched roared when Slash stepped forward and rested his hands on the levers, their shouts echoing between the towers. It felt like the largest crowd of people that Slash had seen in his life, and every one of them was watching him. For a moment, he wondered if Duff would be proud – but Slash didn't feel proud, he felt like his knees might buckle.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Fuck victory speeches, he just wanted everyone to get the water they deserved. He thrust the levers forward, and listened to the water as it burst from the pipes and rained down to the ground, a thunderous cascade almost as loud as the overwhelming relief ringing in his ears.

----

#sodafics #gnr fanfic #gnr #guns n roses #guns and roses #slash #saul hudson #steven adler #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #axl rose #mad max #mad max au

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animebaby00 · 3 years

Text

I Don't Deserve It: Chapter 1

Summary: When Shoto gets a nasty stomach bug, Izuku stops at nothing to help and take care of him.

But Shoto can't help but wonder...

Why?

Shoto was used to his body's fluctuating temperatures, shifting from hot to cold, then back to hot. Sometimes an odd combo of both.

But when he woke up, he was warm, unbearably so and he knew it wasn't from his quirk...which he found strange.

It was very noticeable that this warmth was different. It was radiating inside and out, pulsing, thickly covering his skin. It was a heavy heat, pressing him down, increasing his rare drowsy state as he lay under the comforter of his futon.

He had to get up though. He had school. And he wasn't about to let the touchings of a slight fever prevent him from doing so.

A slight fever. Yeah, that's all it was. Once he was up and moving he would be just fine. He'd had fevers before. He's powered through them in the past. He had too, because if he dared show any sign of weakness…

Shoto shifted around under his covers, stopping to clench his eyes shut as a spiking pain shot through the front of his head. It stung his temples and traveled over the entire surface of his scalp down to the base of his neck.

A headache ? What the hell ? He just woke up. Why was he getting a headache now?

The pressure drummed through his skull and rattled his brain. It felt like his head was trapped in a hydraulic press. His room was still dark and he was lying down, yet for some reason, he felt very dizzy

God it hurt. Maybe he should stay-

No. Stop that.

Your fine. You're strong.

That's what the little voice in the back of his head told him. And he listened to it. With a soft grunt, he sat up despite his body's protests and stood, gathered his things and left his room, convinced that a cold shower would knock him back to his senses.

~~~~~~~

Turns out, that was a mistake.

When he arrived at the bathrooms, he was relieved to see that there wasn't anyone in there. The idea of chattering voices as everyone got ready didn't sound appealing at all, especially with a pounding headache. It made sense though, as he was usually one of the first ones up in the dorms as well as one of the few males who showered in the morning.

He had kept the water on cold in the hopes to relieve the uncomfortable, feverish feeling on his skin. It felt nice in the beginning, but after a few minutes, his body had strangely broken out into a violent chill, causing the pain in his head to increase.

He then opted to turn the heat of the water up in the hopes to cease his body's shudders. But it wasn't working. Shoto found himself leaning against the wall of the shower several times as the pulsing of blood in his ears grew more extreme.

Every bone in his body ached, every muscle felt tight, especially his stomach which now carried an uncomfortable, heavy feeling that he couldn't place.

After coming to the conclusion that a shower of any temperature wasn't going to help, Shoto shut off the water and grabbed a towel, jaw clenched tight from his chattering teeth. And he found himself unable to stop.

He took careful steps in getting out of the shower, drying himself off as quickly as his tired limbs would let him and proceeded to get dressed.

That proved to be a challenge too.

He almost lost his footing in slipping on his pants, had issues buttoning his dress shirt due to his trembling fingers, and even before he was fully clothed, his body started to grow warm again as if the chills never existed.

Shoto wiped at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, bewildered at it's presence since it had only been a few minutes since he had gotten out of the shower. Why the hell was he so hot ?

Maybe it was just because he was closed in a heated, small space, considering that the bathroom wasn't very wide. It was more long due to the strip of sinks and showers right next to each other. And there was an additional warmth to the room due to the final few minutes of his hot shower that had caused some steam to fog up the mirrors.

He just needed to get out of there. Then he'd be fine.

Shoto turned his head around towards a hook by the shower to grab his tie and uniform jacket, and it was there that everything took a turn.

He didn't even move that fast, but everything around him started spinning, his line of vision turned fuzzy, and he could feel his stomach do a backflip. He stumbled, just barely catching himself on the edge of the sink. His heart thumped in his ears as he braced the edge of the sink with his sweaty palms, inhaling deeply through his nose.

That was close.

Carefully, he eased himself up, resting his forearms on the sink's counter. He raised his head, and for the first time, got a real, good look at his reflection.

Though the mirror was still foggy, he could make out the continuous perspiration dripping from his forehead and neck. His heterochromatic eyes were dull and outlined with dark circles. His skin was pale aside from his cheeks and tip of nose, which were blushed a bright, splotchy red.

He looked terrible.

And he felt terrible.

But that didn't matter. Heroes didn't take time off from things like this. And he'd be damned if news got to his dad that he stayed home because of a small fever. He would never hear the end of it.

"Haven't you learned anything?" Endeavor would ask him, "We don't let insignificant things like this get in our way. This isn't how heroes act. We don't show our weaknesses. Are you going to let people die because of some fever? Stay home in bed while they struggle and suffer? Let everyone down again?"

No. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

With a deep inhale, Shoto pushed himself away from the counter, but wobbled forward back against it as his vision once again began to swirl.

His insides churned with unease and he clenched his stomach with his free hand, grimacing.

And it was then that he heard a knock at the door.

"Hello ? Anyone in there ?" A voice sounded from the other side.

Shoto cursed under his breath and forced himself to stand up straighter, his head highly disagreeing with the action as it thumped against his skull.

"Y-yeah. Come in."

The door opened, and Shoto recognized the individual immediately, his mop of fluffy, green hair a dead giveaway.

"Oh ! Good morning Todoroki !"

Shoto had to keep himself from hissing in pain at the tone of his friend's voice. It's pitch just the tiniest bit too high.

"G-good morning, Midoriya…"

He mentally scolded himself on how weak his voice was, but it's as if the freckled teen didn't notice as he nonchalantly walked over to one of the sinks.

"You're up early." Midoriya chided, grabbing his toothbrush from the holder, "Then again, you get up pretty early every morning. Even on weekends."

"Y-yeah."

The green haired boy beamed, and Shoto watched as he opened a drawer and grabbed a tube of toothpaste.

"Ah, I forgot ! We should probably get downstairs sooner than usual. It's Sato's turn to make breakfast and I heard that he's going to make homemade pancakes !"

Shoto's eyes widened drastically at his friend's sudden mention of food, and the idea of it made the rest of the color drain from his face, gut gurgling violently as an overwhelming feeling of nausea took over his senses. He had no choice but to cover his mouth.

No. He was not going puke. Not here.

Not in front of Midoriya.

"Knowing him, I bet they'll be amazing! Ah, he could put blueberries in them, or maybe chocolate chips! I can't wait!"

Shoto inhaled a shaky breath through his nose. He felt so sick, and he deeply wanted to tell Midoriya to stop talking about food. But he felt that if he opened his mouth, something other than words would come out instead.

He shut his eyes as Midoriya rambled on, trying to quell the growing, nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it was traveling quickly. It was growing beyond his control and he could now taste a metallic like sensation on his tongue, which felt thick and heavy like wet cotton.

He shivered, hand gripping the sink tighter, and let out an involuntary, tensed groan from the back of his throat. It sounded quiet to him, but maybe not as quiet as he thought. For after the sound of it breached the air, the bathroom went silent, and a cool hand could be felt sweeping his bangs aside.

Shoto opened his eyes slightly. A pair of green orbs were staring back at him, filled with concern and worry.

"Todoroki ? Are you okay?" Midoriya asked softly.

In that moment, Shoto felt obligated to lean into his touch and admit defeat. The feeling of Midoriya's fingertips alone against his heated skin compared to that of pure bliss. He wanted to say that he wasn't okay.

However, he didn't do that. Instead he pulled away in an attempt to walk towards the door of the bathroom, but his body acted completely against him. He stumbled and fell forward, prepared to make contact with the floor.

But he didn't.

Instead, he fell into a pair of arms, slightly smaller than his, but warm, strong, and comforting as a voice barked desperately into his ear.

"T-todoroki !" The ill boy groaned, pressing his lips together sourly as a new sensation stormed over his body. He fell numb, and it was then that he could feel something warm creeping up his throat.

"Todoroki ! Y-you're burning up ! " Midoriya exclaimed, pressing a hand to his friend's forehead, "What's wrong ? Are you not feeling well ?"

Midoriya didn't receive an exact answer of "yes" or "no". Only a mumble and an action, but it was enough to prove his claim as correct.

Shoto's eyes had widened once more at the question, a low "M'gonna be sick…" leaving his lips before he turned a practically flung himself towards the toilet.

His hands fumbled with the lid, and once he pushed it up, his body immediately convulsed and he pitched forward. His stomach tightened in on itself in a painful, sharp heave. His mouth became coated in thick, bitter saliva, before he threw up forcefully into the toilet.

Shoto's hands gripped the toilet's rims so hard that his knuckles stung. Every muscle in his body was shaking with each gag, his digestive system showing him absolutely no mercy as wave after wave of vomit poured out of his mouth.

It was acidic. The smell burned his nose, and just nauseated him more and more to a point of no end. It was absolute agony...save for one thing.

"It's okay Todoroki...I'm right here." Midoriya's voice sounded calmly, palm on Shoto's sweaty back" You're okay...just let it all out."

Though each heave and convulse was painful, Midoriya's words and soothing hand rubbing his shoulder blades and hand holding back his hair brought a small sense of comfort...but it also brought humiliation.

He felt pitiful like this, weak and trembling on the floor of a bathroom while someone was there…

Watching him.

Helping him.

Half of Shoto wanted to push Midoriya away, say that he could handle this himself. But the other half...felt like he couldn't function or deal with the situation if Midoriya left his side.

And that was the side that won. At least for that moment.

Several more minutes went by before Shoto finally had the opportunity to pull his head out of the toilet to catch his breath, but he didn't feel much better.

In fact, he almost felt worse.

His body was sticky, covered in sweat which caused his clothes to mesh to his skin rather uncomfortably. He felt hot and icky all over. His mouth carried the remnant taste of vomit, bitter, sour, and absolutely disgusting. His muscles hurt terribly, as if he had just got done with a 24 hour workout session. His stomach was mostly empty, but it burned and ached from the aftershocks of his endless dry heaving.

And he was dizzy.

Very dizzy.

Unable to keep his head up, he let it fall forward to rest on the rim of the toilet.

Shoto could feel his consciousness slowly slipping away. His eyes were heavy, darkness dotted his vision, and Midoriya's voice and the feeling of the cold porcelain toilet against his cheek were the last things he remembered before he was out cold.

#bnha #mha #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia #shoto torodoki #izuku midoriya #sickfic #sick shoto todoroki #vomiting #fevers #caring izuku midoriya #cute #fluff #friendship #puke #headaches #fainting

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