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tainted-wine · 4 years

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Subject: RAPTOR

Nomu!Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

This GIANT is the lovechild of this amazing fanart and this ask:

I twisted the shizznit out of that ask, but the inspiration is still there. A thank you to anyone who makes it through this very long ride.

This fic does takes some liberties in the creation of nomu. Some factors will deviate from canon.

Words: 20k+

You can also read this long-ass story on AO3 if that’s more comfortable.

Heed these warnings: Blood and Death, Teratophilia/Monster-Fucking, Breeding, Mutant Genitalia, Unethical Experimentation, Mutilation, lots of handjobs and cum, LOTS of long tongue action and I’m ashamed, Brief Suicide Ideation, and Shitty Science

——–x——–

Fertile nomu were the greatest breakthrough that the villains could ever hope for. Breeding saves so much time and resources, as opposed to artificially creating each specimen from scratch. There were two major “programs”, as these sick bastards insist on calling them.

The Mating Program, where the nomu were paired together, one with male sexual organs and the other with those of a female, though there was also the occasional subject that managed to possess both. It was an unpredictable process; miscarriages were common, sometimes the offspring dies minutes after birth, or the fetus develops too rapidly inside the womb and the birth becomes a violent bursting out of the parent’s body. Weaker nomu, usually the ones incapable of rapid regeneration, have been killed from such incidents. “What a waste,” those bastards in lab coats would say.

And then there was the Milking Program, in which semen was collected to later be frozen or artificially inserted into ‘other creatures’. Yeah, they say it as if ninety percent of those creatures weren’t humans.

You were an unwilling member of the latter program, but the assholes sure did love making it sound like they were doing you a favor.

“This entire precinct is yours,” they said. “Your very own farm of all-powerful beasts!”

Gee, thanks. Just what you always wanted, to jerk off abominations and collect their cum. To be fair, it could be worse. At least you weren’t one of the unlucky ones being impregnated. Your possession of a quirk, albeit a mostly useless one, probably saved you from that fate. Those without a quirk had a higher chance of passing down all of the Nomu’s abilities. Just another addition to the long list of Why Being Quirkless Fucking Sucks.

The weaker and simpler nomu aren’t an issue. A sort of imprinting drives them to obey your every command. Hell, jerking them off isn’t even needed — you can literally just order them to ejaculate, and the damn things are spewing out their putrid seed before you can even prepare your containers.

The most troublesome part of your “job” was the High Ends. They are powerful, sentient, and God help you, have an actual sex drive. They were obedient to an extent, but you can’t hold complete control over something that was specifically designed for independent thinking. You were responsible for only five of these advanced nomu, and that was too many. The touchy bastards always wanted more than just a handjob, vocalizing their lust through distorted throats. The long, beastly groans of “inside” and “give pussy” echoed in your head throughout the day and into the night.

These things can literally pound you into mush, and the very thought of carrying their horrifying children makes your throat burn with rising bile. You don’t believe it’s worth risking your life just to please their monster dicks.

That was all before they introduced you to a new ‘pet’. You stood in the hallway of your assigned area of the old hospital and watched two approaching figures. Ugh, another damn High End to make things more difficult, but this one made your heart skip a beat.

Most of the creature’s body was a solid black, just like the rest within its tier. It was more slender than the others, upper body leaning forward with the support of long legs with joints that reminded you of a bird. Both its hands and feet were covered in scales and ended in large talons. A grand pair of ebony wings were folded behind its back, and a muscular feathered tail swayed with its movements. Overall, its appearance was a mixture of avian and reptilian.

The feathery wings were a huge hint, but absolute certainty struck you when you made eye contact, gold-filled eyes with a bird-like slant on a face that still managed to stay youthful after so many alterations to its body. You listened in on the villains’ conversations whenever they were around. With no access to any kind of media in this place, it was the only way to stay up-to-date with everything happening outside of these cursed labs. You remember hearing about their latest victory, how they managed to overpower and kill the number two hero of Japan, dreadful news that you refused to believe. But the beast that was eyeing you curiously gave you no choice but to accept the truth.

Hawks has become their newest nomu.

The doctor accompanying him smiled proudly, commanding the monster to take your side. You gulped and tried not to flinch in his presence; you were always extra tense around new additions that didn’t know you yet. “Hawks is dead,” the doctor said calmly. “Say hello to our latest work: Raptor.”

You think you’d rather stick with ‘Hawks’. The doctor doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. “We expect samples from this one daily.”

The shocking demand has you speaking before you can stop yourself. “Why?”

The man’s impassive eyes darkened and you shrink back, considering an apology but deciding that it was best to just keep your mouth shut. Prisoners like you followed a set of rules, the most important one being ‘No Questions’. They’ll feed you to the very beasts entrusted in your care without batting an eye.

Lucky for you, this man was willing to give you a pass. “Analysis, fertilization, storage for future plans…many matters that don’t concern you. Expect me every morning to take it in for testing. Until then, get it settled and collect the first sample.”

You shuddered, sneaking a glance at Hawks, who was busy looking up at the occasional flicker of the ceiling light. It was careless to underestimate how observant the High Ends were, but this is the first time you’ve seen one so openly curious. Normally they would just absently stare at nothing when left idle.

Only when the doctor turned to leave did you finally give the newcomer your full attention. “Hawks?”

He continued to watch the blinking bulbs with great interest.

“Um…Raptor?”

You nearly jumped from how quickly his entire body turned toward you, completely still and waiting for whatever instructions came next.

You scratched at your head nervously. “Right, I guess that really is your name now. Well, come with me.”

He followed you down the old hall and past the rooms where others of his kind rested, talons tapping against the tiles with each step.

x---x---x---x---x

Raptor’s exposed frontal lobe throbs.

He doesn’t remember anything before his awakening in that cold and wet chamber. Was there anything before? Had he just been born?

Perhaps…but it just didn’t feel right.

x---x---x---x---x

Like all the other nomu, Hawks’s private space was nothing more than an emptied patient room. Their loyalty was the only thing keeping them from breaking down the old doors or tearing through the worn walls. Every minute spent alone with these superhumans was a gamble with your life.

But again, the newcomers make you extra nervous.

You stood at the door while Hawks examined his new home. He sniffed and pawed at every nook and cranny like an animal in unfamiliar surroundings, straightening his flexible spine to touch the ceiling before lowering himself on all fours. He seemed just as comfortable crawling as he was with walking; you can only imagine how incredible his agility has become. The beloved wing hero was best known for his swiftness in defeating and subduing villains, and it looks like the mad scientists sought to maximize his talents. The average nomu was built to be an indestructible powerhouse. Hawks was built to be an even more efficient predator than he already was.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt him, you had a job to do. “Raptor…”

His head whipped around to pin you with a sharp stare, molten yellow slits revealing the red irises that only appear when focused. You tensed, but he made no further movements.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. Nomu respond best to a confident and assertive voice. “Just relax and stay still. It’s time for me to collect some sperm, if you even know what that means.” You grab the jar that you had already prepared in the corner.

He shook his wings and soft mane of hair, leaving his head a poofy mess. Well that was…cute. You approached him before setting the container back down and reaching for the pathetic rags they called shorts. It’s beyond ridiculous how these sadistic doctors are willing to completely violate and alter a person’s corpse, yet they force the abominations to keep their junk covered as some form of decency.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest as you dropped to your knees and pulled down his only article of clothing, allowing the not quite human-looking cock to spring free — a thick base with a curved shaft decorated with scale-like ridges on the top and bottom, then tapering to an arrow-like head, twitching and growing each second. You’ve seen stranger dicks, but it still catches you by surprise. Was Hawks’s dick always like this?

Is that a distasteful question? He is technically dead.

The moment your hand made contact, a loud hiss rushed past his teeth and he stepped back, wings flapping as he backed away until he hit the wall.

“Calm down.” His reaction startled you, but your voice remained steady. He wasn’t showing any signs of aggression, his widened eyes and timid posture gave the impression that he was just caught off-guard. “Calm,” you repeated more softly.

A few seconds pass while his breaths slow and he stands straight again to give you access to his fully hardened cock.

You try to move more slowly, at first running just your fingertips along his length to ease him into the feeling. You smiled at the sight of his face relaxing; he was surprisingly expressive. “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

His mouth opened to give you a glimpse of sharp teeth that could easily shred your flesh, but the only sounds that come out are several choked peeps. He winces and brings a clawed hand to his throat.

“Can’t talk yet, huh? Don’t worry, it usually takes a few days for you guys.” You closed your fingers around his shaft in a firm grip and began to stroke him.

The soft purrs must mean that he has fully given in. He thankfully hasn’t made any grabs at you yet; only staring down and watching you explore every inch of his pitch-black meat, taking his leaking pre-cum and smearing it all over for lubrication.

His wings shiver and his tail begins to swing wildly—you flinch at each loud thud whenever the powerful limb whacks the wall or slams into the floor. You briefly wonder if the feathers on his tail are capable of becoming sharp blades like the ones on his wings.

The purrs become low growls as he begins to bend over your kneeling form, muscular thighs quivering around you. His cock was twitching under your quickening pace, notifying you that it was time to grab the jar and get ready. “No need to hold back. Go ahead and cum.”

He obeyed with a high screech and two sets of talons seized your shoulders, tearing through cloth and digging into your skin. You yelped, but didn’t halt your milking of his cock, ensuring each spurt of cum landed inside the container. Blood can be felt trickling down your arms, his grip on the verge of crushing bone until he finally lets go after his final spasm. You release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you sealed the jar and stood up. “Good, now rest,” you said through clenched teeth and turned to leave.

A distorted chirp is heard behind you; you twisted your head to see Hawks rushing forward, and your heart jumps into your throat. Fuck, what did you do? Did turning your back excite him? Running wasn’t a smart option at this point. You held the fresh warm sample close to you as you shut your eyes and braced for whatever the nomu had planned.

But when he was close enough for you to feel his hot breath against your back, nothing happened. Then there were fingers, the same fingers that pierced your flesh with their hooked claws, lightly tracing over the bleeding wounds. It was a touch that was way too gentle for a monster created to kill.

You heard the choked sounds again, and you take a look at his face as he strains to form a word, eventually giving up and mouthing it instead. What you read from his lips was something that hasn’t been said to you during your entire time in this hellish hospital.

‘Sorry.’

He retreats to a corner and curls up his entire body like an animal sleeping in the cold.

You felt like the one unable to speak now, mouth opening and closing in search of a response. Eventually you were able to collect yourself. “It’s alright…I guess. Not the first time one of you has handled me roughly. First time one of you showed any regret, though…it’s honestly really freaking me out.” You giggle uncomfortably and decide that you need to hurry up and treat yourself before the scratches get infected. “Rest,” you make sure to command before rushing out of the door.

The restroom held a shabby but functional shower that will rid you of the blood, and the workers were at least generous enough to give you the bare minimum of first-aid along with extra gowns. A couple excruciating dabs of alcohol on the open wounds should clean them up just fine.

You’ll have to think about Hawks’s odd behavior later. You still had other nomu to tend to.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #1: Fierce Wings

Notes: As the host’s original quirk, we don’t expect Raptor to experience any difficulties with Fierce Wings. It should serve more as a refresher for his memory. With a brain more advanced than any other nomu so far, he should still be quick in attacking and reacting. His slightly enlarged wings will allow for greater endurance during flight, and of course, a bigger arsenal of feathers. The feathers on his tail are also to be tested.

The room that Raptor stood in the center of was filled with targets everywhere—some static, some moving in fixed patterns. The humans in coats were a safe distance away and watching him closely.

“Raptor, strike the targets with your feathers.”

He didn’t even have a chance to see which one gave the order before his body was already reacting. It took only seconds for him to pin the locations and time the movements of each target. In a flash, black sharpened feathers darted in multiple directions and pierced every mark in the room.

He didn’t care about impressing the Coats, but he still released a pleased hum after hearing his entire audience gasp. The whole situation felt familiar for some reason. Completing such a test felt so natural to him, he could probably do it blindfolded.

“Again, but this time use only the feathers from your tail.”

He obeyed. With his body lowered and tail raised, it only took two seconds longer to hit each mark.

Several more tests took place. He chopped objects of different materials and varying thickness, sliced apart a combat robot while using only his tail as a blade, and showed off his speed and aerial maneuvers during a small obstacle course.

His brain pulsed painfully. He doesn’t understand why taking so many commands was such a painful struggle.

He didn’t mind the tests much. At least he can actually do something in these test fields, as opposed to sitting in his empty room all day. After the very pleasant time spent with you, it was nothing but hours of pacing, scratching, and grooming out of boredom.

You mentioned there being others like him in those rooms. How do they handle having absolutely nothing to do for so long?

“Its mind tends to wander, doesn’t it?”

He turns to the source of the voice and finds a pair of Coats that stared at him like they were trying to probe his mind with just their eyes. The rest were scrambling about, discussing the excellence of his performance and scribbling notes.

But these two only seemed interested in watching him get lost in his thoughts. He stared back, waiting to see if they had any commands to give.

One of them only smirked as the loyal creature stood at full attention. “Yes, not very hostile, either. Not only is he capable of higher levels of thinking, he is the first High End that doesn’t host the body of some brutish villain. A more complex mind often comes with very human...quirks.”

Raptor blinks. They really enjoyed saying that particular word.

x---x---x---x---x

When you stepped into Hawks’s room for the second morning, you were ready to step right back out when you saw the state of it.

Claw marks everywhere, covering the walls and floor like webs embedded in the surface. Hawks was looking at you closely while stooped low to the floor, but his body appeared relaxed and not ready to lunge.

Not a single hair on you moved when you spoke. “Are you alright?”

He tilted his head at the question, releasing a puff of air through his nostrils before returning to whatever he was trying to do to the floor. He wasn’t violent with his movements. The talons scraped across wide curves, long lines, other patterns with seemingly no goal in mind. Looking around at the other claw marks, you realize that none of them are the angry slashes of a beast throwing a fit. They all looked to have been drawn in a calm matter, twisting and turning into random non-specific shapes.

“Raptor, are you…bored?”

He paused his carving to look at you again and releases a long and drawn-out groan, throat vibrating along with the vocals. Was that a whine?

All of the High Ends had traces of their original personality, but this was on another level. It wasn’t unwelcomed, however. “You know, when the other High Ends don’t have anything to do, they kinda just…I don’t know, it’s like they put their brains on a power-saver mode. You can’t do that?”

His brain responds with several strong pulses. Gross, you’re never going to get used to that pink-gray matter moving around. After what was apparently deep thought, Hawks gave a softer groan and shook his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly at this entire situation. “Incredible. You’d think that these smartasses would know that making a creature of extraordinary intelligence—I bet that’s what they said—would mean that your big gross brain needs regular stimulation. Geniuses, my ass.”

Hawks gave a beastly snort. Seems like he agrees with you. You don’t mean to sound like those insane bastards, but it truly was incredible to see a High End that showed interest in casual conversation, not just commands or any opportunity to cause destruction.

Feeling confident that he won’t maul you out of boredom, you finally approach and kneel in front of him. “Sorry, there’s not much I can do about that,” you said with genuine sympathy. “Not like I have any entertainment of my own. My room sucks too. But—“ You held up your fresh new jar. ��Maybe we can kill some time together again? God, that makes me sound like a sex worker for you guys.”

You don’t know if he has a sense of humor, but he clearly understands your hints and perks up. He stands so that your face is leveled with his groin, black scaly hands tugging at his shorts until a loud rip causes him to grunt in frustration. You giggle and decide to help tear the rest off. “They were just shitty rags, anyway,” you said.

He was already growing right in front of you. Your hand wraps around him for a second time, thankful that it doesn’t startle him again. He tenses for only a moment, but quickly relaxes when your stroking begins, a large pair of testes swinging freely now that there was no cloth to contain them.

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. “You’re not even built as big as the other nomu, but those are still impressive. I guess you’ve got plenty of samples to give, huh? Good, ‘cause I’ve gotta do this every damn day.”

You received a purr and a swish of his tail in response. It was a one-sided conversation, but it was still pretty refreshing. Milking the other High Ends was an uncomfortable task, one where you always had to be prepared with a loud and strong “No” or “Stop” whenever their excitement evolved into aggression. Every minute was tense, and despite your occasional wish for release from this shitty life, you didn’t want a violent end at the hands of these sex-hungry monstrosities.

His reactions weren’t too different from yesterday; he was being more vocal and less shy about physically expressing his pleasure. The massive black wings blew your hair back with each powerful beat, and his tail was thrashing about even more wildly.

His deep purrs weren’t unpleasant, slowly changing into higher mewls as he got closer. “Come on, just do what you did last time.”

And so he did, delivering another fresh sample straight into your container with a warped cry. His hands lingered right over you, clenched in tight fists that surely had those sharp talons digging into his rough palms. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he was trying not to grab you this time. Would he really care about that without being told?

Hot, tired breaths blew into your hair as he recovered from his climax. Then, with his head reared back, he let out a yawn. You even heard a faint little whine similar to a dog escape him. It would have been pretty endearing if it weren’t for just how widely his mouth was opened, displaying the scary set of teeth within. Does he really use those in combat?

With his still-dripping member going flaccid, he returned to the spot he was scratching at, lazily tracing the markings that were already made. The thought of him doing this for another ten hours or so made you frown. They probably wouldn’t care if you stayed in this room a little longer than usual, would they?

Shrugging, you kneeled down again, this time resting beside him. Hawks stopped and looked at you curiously.

“Sharpen one of your feathers and give it to me,” you ordered.

Almost immediately a feather appears right in front of you. You grab it, taking care not to cut your fingers on the razor-like barbs. When’s the last time you’ve held a writing utensil? Shifting awkwardly next to the large nomu, you took the quill and began scratching lines into the floor. The hot heavy breaths and overall warmth from his close presence was hard to ignore. You’ve never been this close to a nomu for any reason that wasn’t jerking them off. He remained calm, watching your hand closely until you finished drawing a small grid.

“You know how to play tic tac toe?”

He blinked.

“…Okay, it’s pretty simple. You fill a space with either an ‘O’ or an ‘X’…”

Somehow, teaching a killer monster how to play a common children’s game was weirder than making him jizz. He caught on quickly, favoring X’s. You were winning each game at first, but once he figured out all of the possible patterns, every game was ending in a draw. You drew larger grids, sometimes having both of you move to a different spot for more room. Most matches were still draws, but he will sometimes catch you by surprise and scratch a row of three X’s that you didn’t notice in time, his tail swishing out of what may have been pride or enjoyment.

After a while you decided to show him other shapes. Maybe he can experiment with them more when you were gone. Who knows, soon he might be drawing more than random lines. He wasn’t bad company, to be honest. Then again, your standards have taken a nosedive ever since you winded up in this facility of unethical science. It was nice to spend time with anything that didn’t want to just tear you in half with a massive cock.

Only when you felt like you overstayed your welcome and stood back up did you realize how much of a mess you both made of the floor and walls.

“Oops, it looks like a bunch of kids got in here,” you said while looking at the collage of shapes and lines. Hopefully the doctors won’t find this too strange; he was pretty intelligent, after all. “Well, it’s about time I take my leave. You keep practicing your doodling skills, I guess.” With the jar of white fluid back in your arms, you headed on out, but a large hand grabs onto your arm.

Hawks’s yellow eyes were wider than usual, a scraping, guttural noise leaving his throat as he toyed with his voice.

“Sss…..aaayy…” Just like the other High Ends, his vocals were warped and all-around unsettling, but you could hear it, traces of the playful and smooth-talking hero that you used to watch during interviews and talk shows. It was barely there, but it was still there.

“St…aay.”

You couldn’t help the sad smile that graced your face. He was looking at you like a puppy. “Sorry, but I don’t know what they’d do if they notice me staying here for too long,” you explained.

He winced from the strain of his vocal chords. “Come…back?”

You shook your head. “There are cameras in the halls. I shouldn’t be going in and out of your room.” You tensed under his grip, afraid that refusing him like this will anger him. He has been very docile so far, but you don’t know what it takes to set him off.

Thankfully, he lets go of you and backs away with another one of those whines. For God’s sake, were you really feeling bad about leaving one of these...things?

To be fair, in the two days you’ve known him, Hawks was already much different from the others. Hell, he hasn’t even shown any true signs of aggression yet. The other High Ends are always expressing some desire to attack or break something. You thought it came naturally with all of the engineering. For something that was apparently supposed to be their finest specimen yet, Hawks’s behavior wasn’t fitting for his job at all. You just played tic tac fucking toe with him like two kids on a sidewalk.

That’s probably why you found yourself trying to reassure him. “We can play some more tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

An odd clicking noise was made—he sure had a variety of sounds reminiscent of birds—and he returned to his favorite corner, hooking his talons into an empty spot on the wall to begin yet another drawing.

The slightest hint of warmth could be felt in your chest as you left him to his creative tasks. This place sucks and has deprived you of everything good in life for…you’ve lost track of how long. You’ll take whatever you can get to make things more bearable around here.

And if that ‘whatever’ turns out to be a former top hero who was killed and resurrected into a horrid experiment, then so be it.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #2: Reptile

Notes: The Reptile quirk will make for a great upgrade to Raptor’s physical capabilities. He may possess wings, but the ability to climb almost any surface will be helpful in enclosed areas and improve his overall performances in stealth. A flexible spine allows him to comfortably be both bipedal and quadrupedal, the digitigrade legs granting him greater speed and jumps.

Also, someone needs to send in a request for a new pair of shorts for the damned thing.

There were many more instructions to follow this time. The Coats were bombarding him with one command after another.

“Climb up here.”

“Slash this with your talons.”

“Crush this with your hands. Try again with your feet.”

His head throbbed painfully as the voices took hold of his movements. They pushed his endurance to the limit when they made him run on a machine, first on his legs, then again on all fours. He was only running in place, but it was much more satisfying than pacing back and forth in that boring room.

It turns out that he can scale walls and ceilings with little effort thanks to the pads on his hands and feet. Maybe he can try drawing on the ceiling when he returns to his room. The only downside was that you wouldn’t be able to sit up there with him.

The Coats observed behind the (assumed) safety of a wall of thick glass. Each one possessed a small microphone so that their voice can still be heard clearly through the speaker on his side of the room.

They always watched him with cold and calculating eyes, and only spoke to him when telling him to do something. You feared him; his feathers easily sensed your tension, unsteady breaths, and quickening heartbeats, yet you still took the time to be friendly. And what you do with those hands…he wishes you’d make him feel that good all day. Yes, his room was small and boring, but it did have you.

“Raptor, to the opposite end of the room,” a Coat ordered. The sensation of being pulled by his entire head forced him to take his place at the wall, staring straight ahead at the door.

His wings twitched from a powerful approaching presence, feathers instinctively sharpening at the possible incoming threat. The door was opened by a small Coat to make way for a beast, a beast with a large powerful form and exposed brain just like him.

Vacant eyes stared straight ahead, looking right through him like it was dead on its feet.

“This is one of Cloner’s spawn, yes?” A female Coat spoke with her mouth close to the mic. He supposes that they don’t care if he hears them.

“Yes. His offspring always turn out even more unstable than him. This one can’t even produce a single proper clone, and no additional quirks were inherited. It’s useless.”

“Well, at least it’ll help us in its final moments.” The man leaned into his mic. “Raptor, kill the nomu. Do not use your wings.”

The woman followed up with her own order. “Nomu, kill Raptor.”

Blood was suddenly rushing through his body twice as fast, the reds of his eyes appearing and locking onto the target that was already charging at him with a horrifying wail.

Kill it.

He ducked under the bigger creature’s closing arms that would have likely trapped him into a crushing hug, causing his opponent to lose balance and fall forward. His hand shot up and dug his talons into thick flesh, slicing it from its chest all the way down to its stomach as he ran beneath. Rising from under the nomu’s legs, he turned to see his gruesome work.

Instead, he sees the blur of a fist right before it smashes into his face and sends him flying. His back colliding hard with the wall accompanied the shattering of his jaw. There was no time to wait for his vision to clear up, scrambling out of the path of the charging silhouette before it slams into the now-empty spot, the impact shaking the entire room.

The pain only intensified when his face and spine began to shift, mending itself back together while he tried his hardest to keep his eye on the much more violent beast. A ghoulish moan was heard as it straightened itself, and Raptor could see the large gash that should have easily disemboweled it already closing up.

Ah, so they can both heal.

It was already charging straight at him again. The thing was fast and powerful, but it was acting like it had a one-track mind, sticking to a simple strategy of running towards him and dealing whatever damage it could.

His wings twitched, but there was a barrier in his mind preventing them from moving. Damned Coats.

The fight became a game of evasion, darting and dashing around the bigger and stronger nomu’s swings and countering with deep slashes. Wearing it down was impossible with such rapid healing, every cut he brought upon its skin was quickly sewn shut.

His only chance was to attack its brain, but the nomu had enough sense to protect its one true vulnerable spot, nearly crushing Raptor’s arm into paste after an attempt to sink his talons into the soft matter.

So he kept dodging, and dodging, until something inside the creature just...snapped. Perhaps it was out of frustration in failing to land any hits, but its haunting moans and wails soon became full on screams. Tightly clenched fists pounded into the floor, the stone floor crumbling under the sudden tantrum. Raptor stood and watched, wings tensing from the burst of tortured emotions.

“Hm, you weren’t exaggerating about the meltdowns,” he heard one of the Coats say, her voice as dull as ever.

“What an embarrassment. Damn thing can’t even carry out a simple fight.”

Raptor looked behind the glass of spectators and saw faces of disappointment.

“A complete waste.”

“Cloner’s children are all wasted potential.”

“What a sad display.”

“Pathetic.”

He looked back at the creature that was now writhing and flailing, its skin oozing a blob that throbbed and squirmed, like it was trying its hardest to take a shape.

But the bubbly pulses stop and the dripping mass melts into a lifeless puddle. The nomu continues to scream after its failed attempt at using its quirk. Raptor’s gut twists with pity.

A sad display, indeed.

“Raptor! Did you forget your orders? Kill him!”

The sharp command smothers all feelings of sympathy, and before Raptor knew it, he was running toward the tormented creature, each feather on his tail sharpening with every step. Ducking under a blind swipe, the black spear thrusted forward and pierced its brain with a sickening shlunk.

The thrashing was reduced to short spasms as the nomu choked out its final groans, its terrified eyes glazing over when the last traces of life faded.

The tail was yanked out and shook off the blood and spongy brain matter to splatter on the ground. Raptor gave a soft whine of distress.

“Well, that was all rather underwhelming.”

“Yep, that didn’t exactly challenge Raptor at all.”

“I’m concerned about his lack of aggression. Did you all see him hesitate?”

“Most likely just confusion and caution after witnessing such a sudden breakdown.”

So many voices, so many comments; Raptor paid no attention to them. His mind was on the corpse that continued to bleed heavily from the large gash in its head. Raptor was the stronger nomu. He won.

Was he supposed to feel proud? Victorious?

“He’s a very smart one. Did you see the markings in his room? He and his harvester have been...bonding.” That voice...Raptor recognized it as the Coat that showed up every morning to retrieve him from his room to enter these test rooms. “I can’t decide if I like the idea of a friendly nomu.”

The woman dismissed his worries. “As long as he knows to kill when he’s told, his behavior shouldn’t matter. But it might benefit us to test his relationship with his owner after we’ve finished observing his quirks.”

His throat vibrates as a low growl passes through.

Raptor doesn’t like it here.

x---x---x---x---x

Maybe it’s just because Friday (you’re pretty sure it’s Friday on your self-made calendar) tends to be your busiest day of the week, or that your wrist is beginning to wear down from the many giant dicks you’ve been stroking. Or maybe it’s just one of those days when you remember just how shitty this life was. Whatever it was, you weren’t in one of your best moods today.

That’s why you felt just the smallest hint of excitement when you reached Hawks’s door. Yes, it’s weird, but he was the closest thing you had to a companion around here, alright?

The last thing you expected was to open the door to an empty room, at least it appeared that way until you saw the black creature resting on the ceiling.

“Aah!” You yelp and drop the jar out of fright, causing Hawks to jump from the sudden noise. You curse and quickly pick up the container and scan it for any cracks while he gracefully twists his body to drop on the floor with a thud. He was as graceful as a cat...a cat that can comfortably sit upside down.

Relieved to see the jar in one piece, you turned your attention back to the waiting High End. “I didn’t know you could climb like that.”

His wings fluttered at the comment and he raised his palms right in front of your face. Ah yes, a hand. Very lovely. But looking more closely, you could see a difference in texture on the rounded pads of his fingertips. “Ooh, little sticky hairs, huh?”

He gave a click of what you assumed to be approval, tail swinging behind him.

“So I guess you’re not just born knowing everything your body can do. Sounds troublesome.” There’s something you wanted to do, something you wouldn’t ever consider doing with the other nomu even in your dreams. “May I, uh, touch them?” You held up your own hands innocently.

Hawks cocked his head, a gesture that you’re always going to find kinda cute, before grunting and bringing his larger hands to yours. All ten of your fingers made contact, and the slightest shiver shot down your spine.

It’s the first time you’ve ever touched one of these monsters outside of jerking them to collect semen. Your curiosity was always there, but the disgust and fear you often felt when in their presence fueled the overpowering desire to hurry up, get the damn job done, and get away from them as quickly as possible.

You never imagined that you’d be standing face to face with a High End, feeling the surprisingly soft pads on his scaly hands, his breaths deep and hot against your face as those red irises watched your expressions. He was still very intimidating with his tall form, glowing glare, and the large imposing pair of wings. But those eyes—they contained too much intelligence and emotion in them.

Too human. It was as uncanny as it was fascinating.

Only when his eyes close and he begins to croon softly do you realize that one of your hands have moved up to touch his face. The black skin feels extra thick when you gently press his cheek, strong and leathery. He leans in and brings his head closer to give you better access, and you can’t help but reward the reaction with scratches against his jaw and chin.

“You know, you’ve been doing a shitty job of acting like the ultimate killer,” you said when he purrs happily.

The purr morphs into a disgruntled whine. “Don’t...like.”

Your hand pauses, hoping for him to elaborate as well as he could. “Don’t like…?” You encouraged him.

He was still struggling to work his vocal chords, but at least he seemed to be showing less pain. “Don’t like...k-killiiing.”

What?

“Raptor, that’s...you know...the very thing you were made for, and you don’t like doing it?” Not that you’re complaining about his gentle nature, but hearing a damn nomu say that he dislikes killing might be the most ludicrous thing you’ve heard here, even more so than the first time you were told to make an abomination cum.

His entire body stiffens, and you couldn’t help but tense up as well. “Maaade-” He makes a harsh hacking sound. “-to kill?”

Shit. You panic and attempt to backpedal. “Not to actually kill. You’re supposed to be, you know, the strongest creature that’s capable of killing whenever he wants...if you, uh, wanted to.” Yeah, that sounds good enough.

It appears to do the trick, his body relaxing again. “Don’t like,” he repeated more smoothly this time.

“I know, I know. Killing sucks. Just don’t tell the assholes in labcoats that, alright? Now calm down.” You return to your ministrations, this time using both hands to rub and scratch his face. His eyes drift shut again as your hands trail down to his slightly elongated neck, brushing past his steady pulse.

Reaching his collar and then his chest, you discover that he’s solid muscle everywhere. He may not be on the verge of bursting out of his own skin like the others, but he could no doubt snap you like a twig just as easily. You feel his chest heave from a deep breath, the strength emanating from his body making you shiver. You shush him when he jolts as your hands reach his pronounced abs, pushing against the hard muscle until you finally arrive at his groin.

You snorted at the new pair of shorts. “Another pair, huh? At least these look a little less ragged.”

You pulled his large member out for the third time. Why did you have to do this daily? What could they possibly be doing with so many jars of jizz? Making cakes?

Sighing, you brushed off the soreness of your arm and wrist and began to pump his ridged length. “Just do me a favor and try to cum quickly, alright?”

He made a rather sad groan at that, curling into himself so that his face was close to yours. His sharp breaths were loud in your ears.

You couldn’t help but smile even through the strain of your muscles. “What, you wanna make this last? Do you know how many dicks I’ve had to tend to today? Cut me some slack, we’re gonna be doing this everyday, anyway.”

Hawks purrs before that monstrous voice shakes your body, his hot breath warming the side of your face and neck. “Feel gooood.”

The primal lust dripping from him triggers a pulse of warmth inside you. You...can’t remember the last time you’ve felt that, and it’s just a tad strange that a nomu caused it. Were you really that starved for attention? “I-” You cleared your throat after an awkward voice crack. “I know, handjobs tend to feel good. But please be a good boy and help me out here.”

He gives a puff that blows your hair back, but he complies. The big sweaty face that buries itself in your neck is so distracting that you almost forget to get your jar ready and fill it with the incoming spurts of semen. There, the final sample of the day has been collected. Now, if you could just push the panting fiend off of you before he starts drooling on your shoulder.

Something warm and slimy touches your neck. It has you pulling back so quickly that you almost fall and spill the vile essence all over you before the jar could be properly sealed.

Hawks shrinks back and quickly withdraws the indigo tongue into his mouth, looking down in what appears to be shame. You touch the licked spot, the thick saliva coating your fingers.

“Sss-sorrry.” Regret can be heard clearly in his droning voice.

“No, it’s...it’s okay,” you stammer. The sensation lingers, and then ignites a spark somewhere inside you.

A sick, disgusting, and absolutely fucked up spark. The next thing you say should horrify you, but instead you feel nothing but a twisted form of anticipation. “You can...um...do that again, if you want.”

His tail slapped the floor in excitement before he slowly closed the distance again, cautiously looking into your eyes before his tongue slithers out and caresses the same wet space.

The smooth muscle is hot against you, extending to inhuman lengths to explore your neck. The slick sounds as it slid across your skin should have grossed you out—all of this should be grossing you out, so you don’t understand why you tilt your head back to give him more room. He licks up and down your throat slowly to savor your taste, breathing heavily and releasing a stale stench from his open maw. You imagined the breath of a previously dead man to smell a hundred times worse, frankly.

With your neck completely drenched in his cooling slobber, he ventures upward, purring louder than ever as he tastes the flesh of your jaw. The tapered end of his tongue begins to curiously flick at your earlobe before circling around the shell of your ear. He seems to take a liking to the flabby cartilage and laps at it playfully while giving the occasional nip and suck and god, it’s all heard so fucking clearly, every schlick and smack traveling right through your canal and setting off questionable reactions all over you. Your hands are clenched and held against your chest, but you don’t tell him to stop.

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

The licking moves to your cheek, lapping at it shortly before moving to your pursed lips.

‘This is fucked up beyond words.’

You flinch when the clammy tongue brushes over your lips, at first smoothing over them lightly, possibly testing to see how you’d react. His face is so close, your noses almost touching. To allow a nomu this close to you, touching you like this…

When you make no move of resistance, he gets braver and laps at your mouth with controlled eagerness. Your eyes close to hide from the otherworldly gaze, but your lips feel even more sensitive to the weight that continues flicking and pressing at them, covering them in hot saliva. Several times does it briefly part your lips and graze your teeth, making you swallow at the thought of…

‘Don’t do that.’

Hawks pauses when you open up for him, but gives a gleeful chirp and snakes his way into your inviting mouth.

‘I’m really letting him do this.’

Clawed hands grab your arms a little too tightly and hold you in place. It hurts, yet all you can focus on is the flexible muscle exploring your mouth. It rubbed against the roof, pushed at the inside of your cheeks, and eventually stroked and curled around your own tongue.

‘You’re sick.’

But you’ve been sick ever since you got here, haven’t you?

When his grip loosens, you take the opportunity to place your hands around his head, digging your fingers into his...hair? Plumage? Was his hair always this feather-like?

A high-pitched sound of surprise leaves him when you try to pull him in closer. He quickly complies, closing the distance until his lips and mouth are covering yours.

It completely smothers your senses. You see his black wings expand to slowly encase both of you. You hear the wet friction of his tongue and the hungry growls that roll from his throat. You smell sweat and blood, briefly wondering just what exactly was he made to do during those ‘tests’. You taste the thick and flavorless saliva that makes you gag at first, but becomes easier to swallow as you take in more. And most of all, you feel him slowly moving in and out of your wide open mouth, the thrusting motion forcing your thighs to rub together in response to the growing heat threatening to consume you.

You snap out of it before that can happen.

Hawks pulls away when he hears your choked sounds of protest, your hands suddenly on his chest and pushing. Fresh oxygen rushes back into your lungs when his tongue leaves your mouth and retreats back into his. The warmth between your legs doesn’t fade away. Everything that just happened, everything you just allowed this monster to do fully sinks in.

And you fucking enjoyed it.

You back away from him as quickly as you can, ignoring his confused groans. A wave of nausea sweeps over you like a powerful gust that churns your stomach.

“Rest. I need to go.” It was all you said before you picked up the forgotten jar and fled the room, refusing to falter from the sorrowful whines behind you.

The urge to spew the little food you’ve been fed throughout the day all over the hallway floor is strong, but you manage to hold out until you reach the toilet in your room, quickly kneeling and hurling. It wasn’t much, but it still left you teary-eyed and with a burning throat.

What did you do? Just what the hell did you do that warranted getting kidnapped, having your nice comfortable life stolen from you, and the only way to cope was by making out with a horrid creature? You jolt from a painful mix of a sob and a hiccup. It’s been weeks since your last breakdown, but this new discovery was another hard blow to your sanity and pride. You let the tears flow as you flushed away your mess, moving over to your bed and collapsing onto the thin mattress. Fuck this facility. Fuck the scum that created all of this.

And fuck the throbbing wetness between your legs that still won’t go away.

Your sobs transform into humorless laughs. You’re going to have to get rid of the throbbing yourself, aren’t you? They won’t arrive to collect all of your samples for about another thirty minutes, so that should be enough time...

You pulled down the thin blue pants and rubbed your fingers over the slick that had gathered from what had transpired in Hawks’s room. It’s true, you’ve been doing nothing but sick shit since you’ve been tossed into this new life. Why do you even still hold on to feelings like shame and disgust? What good will they do you here?

So you try to drown out the voice of your conscience as you laid back, succumbing to the wonderfully twisted thoughts of a nomu’s tongue.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Examination

Quirk #3: Regeneration

Quirk#4: Heat Resistance

Notes: Our most advanced specimens deserve the best healing quirks we have to offer. Raptor is no exception. It will also make up for his lack of weight and hard muscle, not that he should ever be mistaken as frail. Most importantly, this should accelerate the regrowth of his feathers and supply him with an endless arsenal. We do not want to risk his regeneration being hindered by burns. After all, it was fire that led to the host’s death. This is why we have added a quirk that should make it almost completely fireproof.

The only people that Raptor disliked more than the Coats, were the Masks. The Coats saw him as nothing more than an attack dog that is expected to obey every command. But the humans in masks...to them, he was just a fleshy object to be dissected and analyzed.

They were poking and cutting to their heart’s content. His mind screamed to get away from the assortment of blades and needles that hovered over him, sinking into his skin in various places while he could only writhe against the cuffs of the metal table he was strapped to. He doesn’t believe it’s their intention to test every ounce of his willpower, but that sure as hell is what they’re doing right now as he tries, really tries not to use his feathers out of desperation.

“Excellent. The cuts begin healing the moment they’re made,” one of them observes. “Try deeper incisions. Maybe I should try removing one of its eyes.”

Raptor’s heartbeat was booming in his ears after hearing those words.

A younger Mask has been flinching from every one of the nomu’s movements. “Shouldn’t we sedate it or something? What if it lashes out?”

“Stop panicking. A nomu won’t hurt anyone without orders, though his responses to pain are stronger than I expected. We may have to fix that.”

Raptor wouldn’t mind that at all. He hisses and howls as he’s taken apart and mended back together in a torturous loop. His brain is throbbing so strongly one would worry that it might burst. He fights to think through all of the agony.

He thinks of your touch. He thinks of your taste. Were you repulsed by what he did that morning?

Sharp pain shot through his wings when his feathers were being forcefully yanked out, his teeth on the verge of shattering from his tightly clenched jaws.

“Perfect! Look at that, they’re already growing back in.”

They were. He could feel the fresh plumes pushing through his skin. The regeneration did well in preventing any real damage, but it didn’t make the violent tearing of his feathers any easier to bear.

The cruel assault on his wings and tail eventually ended, black fluff littering the room’s floor. He remembers when you mentioned other nomu being capable of shutting down whenever they wanted. What he wouldn’t give to just turn off like a light switch right now.

“Alright, it’s time to move on to his heat resistance. Get the torch.”

The what? Raptor searched the fragments of his knowledge; most words were familiar to him, they just took a while to be remembered from...something. He doesn’t understand how he already knows so much, even though his subconsciousness needs time to dust everything off.

One of the Masks was holding a small object that ended in a tube. With a push of a button, a small blue flame appeared.

The glowing yellow eyes that were normally slits were suddenly wider than he thought possible, every part of him hyper focused on the small fire that was getting too close to his sore wings. His mind recovered a new piece of information:

Blue flames are to be feared.

He was thrashing the second the searing pain was felt, fighting to escape, to get away from the blue death that threatened to incinerate his wings again. He has felt this before. He doesn’t want to burn again.

Panic consumed him, unaware of how much his feathers have sharpened as he beats his wings and tail against the table. He can barely hear the Masks’ frantic voices over the ear-splitting screech, a screech that he realizes is coming from his own strained throat.

“–ptor, I SAID STOP!”

“–y arm! Fuck, my arm is bleeding bad–”

“–old you he’d attack! Why is he reacting so–”

“–atives! Into his neck! Hurry!”

Needles are being jammed into his neck, the chemicals working quickly in sapping away his strength, limbs becoming too heavy to move, and his thoughts were too cloudy to even continue panicking. The scorching heat was still present in his wing, but he can still feel the presence of all of his feathers. There was no foul smell of burnt plumage.

“Aaaugh, my arm...” In the corners of his vision, Raptor saw one of the Masks hunched over and clutching a blood-soaked arm. He didn’t mean to hurt any of them.

“Shut up and go patch yourself up.” An older man motioned the rest to come closer to the calmed nomu, which they cautiously obeyed. “Do you all see it? His feathers aren’t damaged at all. Perfect.”

“But why didn’t he stop resisting after you ordered him several times? And why was his reaction to pain so strong?”

The elder grimaced behind his mask and shook his head. “Its pain tolerance is laughable. There’s no use in a nomu having such sensitivity. We’ll need to perform an operation that will dull his nerves.”

They scrambled around the table, gathering new tools and focusing the creaky hanging light on Raptor’s face. He was too doped up to even react to the harsh brightness.

“And if he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

The nomu tried to make a sound of protest, but in his dazed state he could give no more than a pathetic whimper. He was rather thankful of the drugs for making him unable to notice just how many needles were sinking into his brain, or the blades that opened up the rest of his head, keeping the tools in place to prevent his skull from instantly healing. It still hurt, a lot. But as they tweaked his pulsing organ, injecting unknown fluids inside, the pain began to dim. Raptor would have celebrated and attempted to wag his tail in relief.

But it wasn’t the only thing that was fading. The coldness of the metal at his back was becoming distant, the chill in the air of the room was suddenly so faint that it no longer made him shiver.

He wanted it all to hurt less, but he still wanted to feel.

He has no idea how much time had passed once they finally finished and allowed his bone and flesh to close up. The old Mask stared down at him, gloves drenched in thick crimson.

“That should do it. Going by your weaker reactions, the operation was a success and you now feel less sensation. Good.”

‘No. Not good.’ It’s what he was tempted to say, but Raptor didn’t want to utter a single word to anyone besides you, and the cruel man’s recent threat of robbing him of his free will ensured that he keeps his mouth shut.

Raptor hates it here.

x---x---x---x---x

There were fresh claw marks covering the walls of Hawks’s room, and this time they were angry. The drawings and games you made together were literally slashed out, with spots of blood spread out all over the floor.

He was curled up in a corner, wings concealing most of his shaking form.

“Raptor.” Firmly addressing him is usually all it takes to gain his full attention, just like any other nomu, High End or not.

Hawks doesn’t respond at all.

That’s new...and very unnerving.

You called him again. The mass of feathers didn’t budge. You swallowed a lump in your throat. He had clearly just thrown a violent tantrum, and you don’t know if he has fully calmed down yet. Approaching him is too risky, but the damn nomu won’t even acknowledge you. So you’ll have to get through him in a more natural way.

“Raptor, is everything alright? Do you, um, need some space? I can come back a little later...maybe another thirty minutes or so.” You offered, your body slightly twisting toward the door, ready to bolt if he decided to attack. You ignored the cold hard fact that the door and your legs would do little in protecting you from him.

His tail slowly uncurls like a timid snake, wings following suit and revealing his shrunken form. He was hugging himself tightly, talons peeling the skin off of his biceps. His head hung low, but you can see the spot of red in each eye looking right at you. He looked like an angry and frightened child, and his pitiful plea didn’t help matters.

“Don’t...go.”

His vulnerable state quelled your fears, but you still took caution. “Can I come closer?”

He looks down at the floor for a moment, seemingly pondering the question, before straightening his posture and nodding.

You follow the routine you’ve been getting used to with him, setting aside the jar and taking some time to talk. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

It was supposed to compel him to instantly explain the issue, or at least attempt to with his awkward speech. You instead see him flinch and growl lowly, as if he didn’t appreciate you making demands. Just what is going on with him?

Your anxiety was probably visible since he quickly switched back to a less aggressive stance. You wince when he drags a claw through his flesh, blood leaking out for only a second before the wound instantly repairs itself. “Can’t feel.” He weeps with cracks in his unnatural voice. At least he’s dragging out his words less and sounds less like a moaning zombie.

“You can’t feel?” You repeated, edging closer and placing a hand over the healed spot. Another growl, louder this time, scares you into pulling away. But his bigger hand seizes yours and presses it hard onto the black skin. You feel the tremors that begin to wrack his body and try to stay calm in the wake of his growing distress.

His voice becomes only more broken. “Can’t feel it! Can’t feel you!”

You find yourself shushing him, holding your free hand up like you’re trying to calm a panicking animal. You cup the side of his face, but that seems to upset him even more. “You can’t feel my hand?”

He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, squeezing your hand tightly enough to cut off circulation. How freely he can emote still freaks you out a bit, face looking on the verge of shedding tears. Everything about him continues to be so surreal.

“Raptor, you’re a shitty nomu,” you told him with a small smile. “Not that I mind.”

And there goes that cute head tilt. The thought of him being released in a city to wreak havoc, just like the one that attacked Endeavor and...him, feels less possible after every meeting.

He was still powerful and potentially dangerous, if the state of the walls were anything to go by. You really shouldn’t be pushing your luck or his temper. On the other hand, you did decide yesterday that from now on, you are going to embrace the depraved dumbass within you. Hawks stiffens and starts to slowly pull back, but your hand makes its way to the back of his head. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” you soothed him. “I just want to see if you can feel any of this.”

With no more hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, feeling his shock through a surprised grunt. For a minute, you simply cover his rough lips with kisses while he stays completely still, eyes looking on the verge of bulging right out of their sockets. It looked downright silly. Why was he so shocked by a simple kiss anyway, after the way you let him ravage your mouth yesterday?

Your lips pause when you remember the distraught sounds he made that morning as he watched you rush out of the room. That’s right.

“Hey,” you murmur against him. “Sorry for taking off like that last time. Just...don’t worry about it, okay.” He released a hot breath onto your face. Your trapped hand is finally freed from his iron grip, numb and stiff, but you keep your attention on the motionless nomu. “We’re not exactly supposed to be doing this, but I want you t-mmf!”

He suddenly went forward and attacked your lips, aggressively mimicking your movements with enough force to bruise. You try to keep up and calm his pace, sighing into his mouth once his lips finally begin to slow down. He’s clumsy like you expected, but his intelligence shows when he tries to follow your lead and quickly learns the intimate dance of your mouths. The occasional swipe of that blasted tongue across your lip makes you gasp, and then you feel big strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, the beats of his excited wings, the throaty growls that rattle your entire being…

You can feel yourself heating up again already.

“Mmm, Raptor...wait,” you manage to say between kisses, your hands pushing against his chest. He gives a grating sound of annoyance, but pulls away like you wished. You were suddenly hyper aware of his size and strength – this monster that was holding you closely and taking care not to harm you. If any other nomu had you like this, they undoubtedly wouldn’t have stopped.

“So, did you feel any of that?” Your hand travels down to his groin and rubs at the bulge that still had a lot of growing to do. “Do you feel that?”

To your dismay, he shakes his head. “No,” he groans as his wings droop closer to the floor.

It has you stumped. How are you supposed to please him when his whole body is numb?

“But…” He licks his lips slowly. “Can still taste. Tastes so good.”

When you let him lap at your lips again, he twitches beneath the ragged cloth.

You put two and two together, and the realization makes you gulp. And ache.

Remember, shame is useless here.

He allows you to back away and create some distance. The sight before you is frightening on its own: The sharp stare of the raven-winged fiend while surrounded by the deep marks of its outburst would do well in intimidating any sane individual. Remembering what exactly he is makes you pause only for a second, your hands grabbing the bottom of your thin blue shirt and lifting it before your pesky conscience can even get a word in.

Hawks’s wings flare out slightly when your breasts are revealed to him, talons clicking against the floor as he shuffles about, at a loss of how to react. Relieved that you haven’t been pounced on immediately, you lean down to remove your pants next, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you pull the garment down and step out of them. They never supplied you with underwear, so with your two articles of clothing removed, you were completely nude in front of the dangerous nomu.

At first you both just stared at each other, until he finally came forward to scan your body more closely, mindful of how nervous you were. The tension made you almost choke and cough on your words.

“I-if you want to…taste more of me, go ahead.” You didn’t mean to squeak out those last two words. You blame it on the chilly air.

The hands that take hold of your hips feel extra hot, along with the breath that grazes your chest. The blue tongue slides past his lips and extends to press against the spot right over your pounding heart, then moving smoothly up the column of your neck and your cheek in one long swipe, the wet trail making you shudder. The mouth ventures close to your ear to utter the word that you remember repeating to him on the first day you got him off.

“Calm.”

It’s followed by a rolling purr that eases you into doing just that. The humming continues while he eyes your breasts, nipples already pert from being exposed to the air. Even in your more relaxed state, the sudden lick across your tit makes your breath hitch. He seems to enjoy your response and repeats the action, giving it several more laps before wrapping around the entirety of the soft globe like a tentacle, squeezing gently.

“Ah, Raptor,” you moan when the tip of the tongue flicks at your nipple, sending the tiniest of jolts through you. “Damn, where did you learn to do that?”

He answers with nothing more than a groan as he continues to show off his tongue’s flexibility. It coils and swirls around the skin until every inch of it is covered in his saliva, making you even more sensitive to the cold air. Satisfied with his work, he moves on to repeat the motions with your other breast.

The pleasure was soothing, like a massage…if the masseuse had sticky boneless limbs. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, letting yourself enjoy the vile act of a monster sampling your taste.

His mouth suddenly engulfs you, the damp heat adding to the ongoing feeling of his tongue dancing around your tit. The purrs abruptly become a powerful vibration that electrifies your skin and brings forth your moisture to drip and run down your thighs.

But Hawks suddenly pulls away and stares at you intensely, the glower snapping you out of your daze.

“What is it?” You were getting nervous again. Did one of your reactions irritate him?

He breathes in, again and again, sniffing at the air for something. The swaying tail hints that whatever he smells is exciting him. His head lowers in pursuit of the scent and stops at your womanly mound to take a long whiff at the spicy aroma emanating from your cunt.

With his breath now blowing right against your sex and increasing your arousal, your juices trickled freely onto the floor and for him to see. The clawed hands on your hips held you steady, preventing you from collapsing from the nerve-racking anticipation that had you shaking all over. At no point in your life have you ever felt this exposed, being ogled by a pair of eyes in which the irises were bigger than you’ve ever seen them, mesmerized by the source of the delicious smell.

The tongue slips between your thighs before you could even prepare yourself, stretching across the entirety of your lips, over your entrance, nearly reaching your ass before it pulls back toward his mouth, the rubbing of the silky muscle creating buzzes of pleasure. Looking down gives you the unpleasant view of his brain, but you also get to see him swallow and savor your taste, humming deeply in approval before salivating with the need to drink up more.

“Good.”

He doesn’t wait for your response – his face is already being shoved into you, and you’re suddenly bombarded with delightful hot sensations all over your pussy. The ravenous organ travels up and down your folds, collecting every drop of your sweet nectar while you could do nothing but spread your legs to give him more leeway – God you’re such a whore – and cover your mouth in the hope that no passerbys hear your moans in the room.

When your legs officially become jelly and can no longer support you, Hawks tires of holding you up and allows you to fall back a little too hard onto the floor, the impact making you wince. Any other time, he probably would have at least made a sound of apology, but your sopping wet pussy has stolen his attention. He wastes no time in lifting your hips up toward his waiting mouth, now utilizing his lips along with his tongue to loudly slurp up your essence.

His vicious hunger has you seeing stars. Wings open up and expand around both of you like black curtains that darken your vision, like a bird of prey mantling over a hard-earned meal. The only thing you can clearly see between your legs are the eerie glows of red and yellow; the glare of a demon that seeks to devour you from the inside. He starts to suck your folds dry, growling as he inspects every inch of the ravaged honeypot until his lips brush against your neglected clit.

A muffled “fuck!” passes between your fingers, both of your hands tightly clamped over your mouth. The reaction surprises him, and to his delight, it triggers more of your nectar to flow. The most efficient gag wouldn’t have been enough to suppress your scream when he sucked hard on your sensitive bud.

You couldn’t help it. Fighting past the paralyzing pleasure, your hands blindly grab at his head and accidentally bury your fingers into a soft squishy brain. The discomfort makes him shake his head and groan in irritation, raising his head and narrowing those menacing eyes at you as a silent warning.

“Hah...shit...I’m sor–AH! Fuck-oh my god....” He’s already attacking your clit again before you can finish your apology. All he cares about at the moment is your taste, and not even you were going to interrupt him. The surrounding wings occasionally twitch and shudder around you, vibrating along with your approaching climax. But the second you feel dangerously close, his lips leave the perky little pebble and move back down to lap at your fresh flow. It tears you away from an orgasmic finale and brings you back to that sensual middle ground. The audible licks were amazing, but you need to reach that edge. Your hand drifted down to your pussy, right over his tongue where you can give your clit the stimulation needed to cum…

“Hwrrrrrrr…”

You felt the terrifying snarl more than you heard it, shaking you to your very core. The other core, not the one on the verge of bursting. You immediately pull away and freeze, shivering and breathing quickly at the sight of his bared fangs. For a brief moment, the tent of feathers showed off a faint sheen, like they all suddenly sharpened. A quivering, fear-fueled gasp left you.

It felt like the staredown went on forever, but Hawks was eventually convinced that you weren’t going to distract him from his feast again and returned his gaze to the fragrant pussy before him. However, after a few more licks, he grunted in frustration. You weren’t secreting your precious juices fast enough; your body simply couldn’t keep up with his newfound greed.

The insatiable tongue keeps poking and prodding at your opening until it pushes in just enough to slightly stretch your walls. You struggle to stay relaxed and keep your hands to yourself. Hawks was currently as unpredictable as any other nomu, and you didn’t want to piss him off.

When the hot thick muscle is suddenly shoved into you, you don't even have time to cover your mouth and block the next scream that is ripped from your throat. There’s no time to adjust to the completely foreign sensation. It squirms inside of you like a living creature, massaging your pussy in ways you didn’t even know were possible, sometimes hitting that special soft spot.

Your molten center spreads its flames across every nerve. This is far beyond what you fantasized on the night you touched yourself. His tongue was able to fill you completely, all while moving around more freely than a cock or even fingers ever could. Too soon does it leave your pulsing walls and back into his mouth, where he swallows every drop he’s gathered before shooting his tongue back out and penetrating you again before you can even complain.

He was moving with more force, enough to create a visible swell in your stomach that moved along with his tongue. You can’t look away from it, even as he begins to push in and out at a steady rhythm, the pleasure building up to new heights while the bulge in your belly moves up and down. You’re tempted to ask him to move his wings to allow more light for a better view, but interrupting him now is probably a stupid idea.

He pants loudly from his open mouth as he fucks you thoroughly with nothing more than a long powerful tongue, his thrusts moving faster and deeper in search of more of your savory wetness.

Meanwhile, you were dizzy. It was uncomfortable at first. It’s been so long since you’ve been fully stretched, but it all quickly melds into pleasure you have long since forgotten – no – you hadn’t even known. Your interest in sex has greatly diminished during your stay here. Hell, you were certain that your libido was officially dead. But Hawks….

This abomination was going to be the death of you.

Your g-spot is suddenly struck again, and again. Most of your words were incoherent, and the ones that could be made out were nothing more than endless encouragement. “Gah-hnngh, fuck, Hawks, you want more, don’t you? Ah, I’m about to give you more. Keep going Hawks don’t fucking stop.”

Talons are biting into your skin from his tightened grip. With a low bellow of excitement, his mouth moves to cover your entire sex, prepared for the incoming downpour, and thrusts his tongue into your most sensitive spot repeatedly without mercy.

The pressure within explodes violently, completely overshadowing that laughable orgasm you gave yourself yesterday. Each contraction adds more white that flashes in your eyes, moving in from the corners of your vision until it becomes as blinding and unbearable as the bliss that washes over you. There are noisy gulps between your legs, the parched monster happily taking every rush of fluid directly into his mouth and down his throat until he finally has his fill.

Even through your spasms your walls try desperately to clamp around his tongue as it leaves, but to no avail. The looming wings finally move away and return to their usual resting spot behind his back while he sets your lower body down and licks his lips for any remaining traces of your slick. The talons never broke your skin, but they did leave some glaring marks on your hips and ass.

You still tingled all over from the waist down while your muscles make the greatest effort to respond to any of your commands. No use. You decide to lay there covered in the monster’s spit. The work of that amazing specimen of a tongue almost made you forget that this was being done to arouse him. You should probably check to see if he was hard. He may not be able to feel your hand anymore, but he still might be excited enough to cum from the act. Stupid science bastards, making your job more complicated.

“Hawks.”

The single word uttered from the nomu clears your mind instantly. Your weakened arms push you upright to properly face him. He was still crouching, scaly toes supporting the weight of his body like a gargoyle without a perch.

“You say Hawks. What...is Hawks?”

What? When did you…?

Oh. Shit. Your mouth was moving on its own while he was eating you out.

Your mind was zipping in several directions at once, hoping that he wouldn’t find anything odd about your eyes darting about, looking everywhere except at him. You settled on a simple and dismissive answer. “Oh...don’t worry about it. I was just babbling while you had me on cloud nine,” you said with a crooked smile.

Black lips twisted into a frown, accompanied by a quick beat of his wings and then...eww. His brain is pulsing way too much, so much that he shakes his head in agitation, which only adds to the disturbing visual as the organ jiggles slightly in his head. “Hawks...don’t know...I know…” His words jumbled over his inner turmoil. The long tail lifted and began to swing quickly.

You sat there, nude and bewildered. Every High-End still carried traces of who they once were, expressing some of the same behaviors and habits they presumably had before death.

This is the first time you’ve seen one with any sort of recollection of their past life, even if it’s something as minor as feeling a connection to their name. You have a feeling that’s not supposed to happen.

You shouldn’t tell him anything; nothing good will come out of it. He needs to shut up and start being a bloodthirsty killer before the doctors decide that he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

“Raptor,” your shaky legs move slowly, shifting until you’re resting on your knees, face to face with the nomu that still looks interested in your naked body even as his head throbs. “It’s not important. Stop thinking about it.”

The look he gives you is one of hurt and dammit, this is exactly his problem. “But...Hawks. Want to know what-”

“I said stop thinking!” Your volume shocks both of you, but Hawks actually recoils from the unexpected shout. You don’t care, all it does is confuse you more, anger you more. “Why the hell aren’t you listening to me anymore? That’s what you’re supposed to do! Do whatever we tell you! What, did you break?” A full-body chill reminds you of the state you’re in. You were seriously having an outburst while still completely naked with Hawks’s saliva glistening over your thighs. You groan and turn away from the troubled hybrid to grab your clothes and dress yourself, not giving a damn if you pissed him off and he decides to kill you right there. He’d be doing both of you a favor, really.

But it shouldn’t be a surprise when you see that he hasn’t budged from his spot, making no move to retaliate. “I like you, Raptor,” you admitted. “Somehow, you managed to be the only welcomed company in this fucked up hospital slash prison, but you shouldn’t be. What we just did...that shouldn’t have happened. Fuck, I – I should’ve been terrified, and I kinda was, but, I shouldn’t have felt that good!” Your doubts, your conscience, they both return with a vengeance. But this time it’s not you they’re worried about.

“If this is how you act around everyone else, you’re not going to last here.” You hold his face in your hands, a tender gesture that shouldn’t be possible with the likes of him. “These assholes are gonna get rid of you if you don’t do what they want, and they’re going to ask for horrible things. I know you don’t like killing, but if you keep up all of...this, you’re going to lose more than your sense of touch.”

He doesn’t make a sound, only staring at you before gritting his teeth and nodding in your gentle grasp. His compliance both relieves and hurts you.

“I’m sorry, but no more questions. Please? The less you know, the better.”

“No more…questions.” Dammit, you hate how clear the sorrow is in his eerie voice, like the mournful moans of a lost soul. “No more.”

You give him a smile of thanks, it’s the least you could give him. You try to bring the atmosphere back to its usual awkward yet friendly vibe. “Now, let me see if your, um, tasting did you any good.” You move to pull down his shorts. That is, until you notice the large damp spots and stains on the cheap material. Oh, he did not.

“Welp, it obviously worked. Now how am I gonna scrape this shit off?”

x---x---x---x---x

Hawks.

Flames.

Decay.

Death. Everywhere.

But, somehow, he knew it wasn’t his doing.

Maybe he did kill a few...he wasn’t sure. It’s all so blurry and nauseating.

Was he killing people? Was he…trying to save them? A monster like him, saving people?

“No more questions.”

Your voice echoes, bouncing across the shattered fragments of his mind. Raptor tries to obey. He doesn’t know what this Hawks is, or why it keeps plaguing him.

Whatever Hawks was, it’s gone. Raptor wants it to leave him alone.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #5: Camouflage

Notes: As you know by now, Raptor differs from other nomu in that he is designed for agility and stealth. An invisibility quirk will not only make Raptor into the perfect phantom, it can also assist in infiltration and spying. While the quirk may be called ‘camouflage’ mainly due to how it changes skin pigmentation, it does much more than match the colors of the environment. It hides the user’s entire form as perfectly as any true invisibility quirk. Raptor should be more than capable of destroying targets without ever being noticed.

You were right. It was strange how he doesn’t discover these ‘quirks’ on his own. It was an understatement to say that he was a little lost when a Coat ordered him to activate his Camouflage. Raptor was prepared to feel those words bind his limbs and move him against his will. Whenever his brain was under the Coats’ control, he was capable of doing whatever they asked, even when he himself didn’t understand what they were asking for.

So it was worrying when he felt nothing. He heard the order loud and clear, yet it didn’t wrap around his brain like it always does.

So it wasn’t just you. His mind no longer submitted to anyone’s commands. He would have chirped in celebration if he didn’t have an audience that was still waiting for him to follow through, giving looks and comments of impatience while he stood there.

He can’t let them notice that he was unaffected. The words of the Mask that stole his touch repeated in his head along with the memories of cutting and burning, every nerve seething from raw pain until all feeling began to fade.

“If he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

Alter...change...he doesn’t want them to change him. So Raptor tried to pretend, another thing that felt natural to him.

The process of finding his new quirk was difficult to describe; it was more like willing himself to blend in until the rest of his body got the message. All of his muscles tightened, and he almost panicked when black skin began to disappear before his eyes. His wings, his tail, every part of him looked as if it was dissolving, but he can still move and feel the weight of each limb. Once his body relaxed, he was fully invisible. The Coats kept him pinned with their stares, however.

“Completely hidden. Very good,” one of them said, writing something down. They’re always watching, always taking notes on him, always judging. This all felt familiar as well. “Now, walk from that corner to there, and keep a hold on your quirk.”

There was no pull, no sudden fuzziness or loss of control. Nothing. It’s a strange feeling, following orders because he actually chooses to. It will take some getting used to, but it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Has a monster like him ever acted before? It sure feels like it.

He performed several different tasks: running, climbing, flying, and shooting feathers. All while unseen by the naked eye. The feat even earned him a round of applause from the Coats.

“I can picture it already. He could slice apart an entire group of targets, and they wouldn’t even understand their deaths. A flurry of invisible blades!” One of them exclaimed with a smile that was way too wide given the subject matter.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get a taste of what this is capable of right now.”

Right on cue, the doors opened. Every feather on his wings and tail bristled instantly, ready to shred whatever possible threat that may enter. They wouldn’t be able to see him. It would be so easy, just like the Coats said.

But instead of another nomu that was simpler and more violent than him, a woman was shoved into the room hard enough to make her stumble forward and fall, the door slamming shut behind her. She was dressed like you, wearing only a thin blue shirt and pants. What did they bring someone like her in here for?

She was already back on her feet, scanning the area with wide eyes and shrunken pupils before moving her gaze to the humans that continued to observe from the other side. The fear in the air was so thick that Raptor could nearly taste it as she shook uncontrollably – he wondered if her knees would collapse from the trembling alone.

He was still camouflaged; she couldn’t see him at all. The urge to reveal himself is strong, but one: the Coats had yet to order him to deactivate his quirk, and two: knowing that she was in a room with a nomu will most definitely only terrify her more, so he stayed where he was, motionless and quiet.

For a suffocating minute, the only sound was her rapid breathing until one of the Coats finally spoke up.

“Kill her, Raptor.”

“What?” The woman’s voice was constricted by anxiety. She looked timidly at the man, who only stared back expectantly, waiting for something. “W-what?” She choked out again. She switched her attention to the door, still distressed and shaking. When no horrid beast entered the room like she expected, her panic increased even more, stuttering so badly that it was a challenge to discern what she was trying to say. “I-I-I w-I won’t...I’m s-so...p-p-please.”

Her head whipped upwards to a vent in the ceiling. Nothing happened. The confused woman was now spinning around looking for something, hysterical with the knowledge that her impending doom was coming, but not knowing where or when. The weight of her dread was making him anxious.

The same Coat, however, only sighed in annoyance at the sight of the trapped panicking animal. “Don’t dawdle, Nomu.” The final word dripped with venom. It reminded him of his place: a puppet that should have no will of its own. Raptor didn’t want to kill, but if he defies them, then they will dig into his brain again, and the woman will probably be violently killed by a more enthusiastic nomu. He’s afraid of what they might take from him next. He can’t let that happen.

The shrinking woman is still whipping her head around in every direction as her bare feet take a step backwards, then another, completely unaware of the larger creature that stood right behind her. He can’t guarantee a painless death, but he can make it as quick as possible for her.

Raptor added an edge to some of his feathers, but reconsidered. That would require pinpoint accuracy, not worth the risk with a target that was moving so erratically.

His tongue curiously ran over the points of his teeth, checking their sharpness. No, that would leave too much of a mess.

His hands clenched into fists, and that’s when he practically heard the ding in his head. A simple method, but it should work just fine.

He was originally going to wait until she backed all the way into him, but that would be rather cruel. Killing her before she even recognizes the danger is a greater mercy. His hand struck with the swiftness of a snake, grabbing the back of her neck. The delicate spine could be felt beneath.

Raptor was not as strong as other nomu. That didn’t mean he couldn��t crush a human’s bones with little effort.

He felt her jolt, but that’s all she had time to do before the sickening snap and crunch sounded throughout the room, then she went limp with nothing more than a few final twitches.

Some of the Coats audibly gasped, while others clapped excitedly at the kill they couldn’t even see coming. From their perspective, an unsuspecting woman’s neck was suddenly crushed by an invisible force like an aluminum can.

One of them didn’t look very impressed. “Eh, a bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?”

“We’re not watching a bloodsport,” another one snapped. “Raptor is designed to handle matters quickly. A cervical fracture is fast and effective.”

“She was so terrible at her job. I think she deserved a terrible death in return,” another said.

Their babbling continued while Raptor placed the body on the floor more gently than his audience would have liked. Her eyes were still wide open, frozen in that moment of realization just a millisecond before death. Still, things could have been much worse for her.

“I still think we should have used his harvester instead. She’s becoming a nuisance.”

Raptor has grown to really dislike that voice, the voice of the man that takes him away every morning. He always stares at him like an expensive possession that turned out to be a waste of money. It’s an effort to keep his lips from curling over his teeth whenever the bastard’s around.

An older lady spoke. “Her relationship with the nomu is unique and warrants its own set of experiments after we cover the basics here. We already told you that.”

“Yes yes, I know. But her sample this morning was pathetic. It’s like she’s forgotten her job, too busy turning our greatest achievement into a softie. Call me petty, but I’d get a good laugh out of watching her be devoured by the nomu that she’s decided to become friends with.”

Anger.

“You are petty, and short-sighted. Do you understand just how extraordinary this relationship is?”

Another Coat butted in. “Sure, but what use is sentiment to a nomu? This was supposed to be a cold lethal predator, not a child that likes to draw on walls. I agree that the bond with its harvester is holding it back. It would be better off without her.”

Raptor hates it. He doesn’t want any of them talking about you. To think that they’d consider something as twisted as offering you to him as a helpless prisoner to execute, just like the one whose spine he had just snapped.

How dare they.

The lady was suddenly staring right at him with a look of shock before her aged lips curled into a smirk. Actually, everyone was staring at him now, and they all showed varying levels of discomfort. That’s when he noticed that he can see his hands in front of him again, along with his feet, wings, and the rest of his body. His fury made him lose his hold on the Camouflage quirk. They had all just seen his face of hatred.

And yet the lady continued to smile. “I don’t believe he agrees with you two.”

She then whispered something, lips forming what looked like the word ‘magnificent’ while her eyes bore into him. Even his rage was nothing more than a fascinating process to be examined.

Raptor wants to get out of here.

x---x---x---x---x

You’re alright. You made it out. You were bruised, but you made it out.

That High-End nearly broke your fucking arm when it came. It was always a pretty rough one when you jerked it off but for god’s sake, why did it always have to squeeze you like a stress ball? Thankfully, your painful shriek of “STOP!” was enough to penetrate the horny shield over its brain and it released you.

It wasn’t your first injury, but it’s been a while since you’ve gotten such a scare. It could’ve been worse – it could always be much worse.

The fact that you feel elated when you reach Hawks’s room shows how close the two of you have gotten in less than a week. Two prisoners who agree that this place can go fuck itself; one was pumping cocks on the daily, the other failed miserably at being a ruthless monster. They ought to make a movie out of this.

You enter the room to see him resting in the center while several feathers carve into different areas of the walls and ceiling. His understanding of shapes was becoming more complex at a rapid rate, if the current drawings were anything to go by. They looked to be unintentionally abstract faces, varying greatly in size and structure, but one thing they all had in common was oversized eyes. Every face was furiously scratched in, the sound of chiseling surrounding you and adding to the ominous aura given off by the etchings that lacked skill but teemed with raw emotion.

The scattered claw marks from yesterday are still as visible as ever. Everyday, this place looks more disturbing even with the not-so-hostile creature that occupies it.

Something prompts his feathers to stop abruptly and return to him, followed by him quickly standing up and hissing. The badly-timed hostility makes you jump back. “Raptor? What is it?” You tried to stay calm as usual.

He drew closer, eyes narrowed and teeth bared at the purplish welts on the arm that held your gazillionth jar. Oh, of course. You waved with you uninjured one. “It’s alright. One of the High Ends was being a little heavy-handed. It stings, but it’ll get better.”

Hot air hits you when he releases a snort. While he studies the bruise, you continue to examine the newest artful additions. “So...what do all of these mean?” You ask.

He follows your traveling gaze and mutters. “Watching. They’re always watching.”

He said it so smoothly that it gave you chills. “You’re tripping up less on your words. That’s, uh, good.” When a grunt is his only response, you keep talking. “Are these the doctors?” He nodded. “Did you...have to kill again?”

A beat. Then he nods again, more slowly this time. “It was easier.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, deciding to instead rest a hand on his arm. For some reason, what he said didn’t scare you. It was you who asked him to act more like a nomu, anyway.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes, standing side-by-side in the middle of the room’s crude composition that illustrated his short life. Innocence, rage, and now a feeling of powerlessness. You can relate; your progress here was very similar except that the ‘innocence’ part can be replaced with ‘grief’, having lost contact with everything you were familiar with.

“You know, maybe I can add my own additions to this sometime, if you don’t mind. Make this place our own little mural.” You giggle when his tail swings at the proposal. “There’s no way they haven’t noticed how odd of a duo we are by now. I wonder how those assholes feel about all of this.”

You’re grabbed and pulled into him so quickly that the jar slips out of your grip, rolling away as you’re pushed into a hard black chest. The tight embrace squeezes your swollen arm painfully. “Shit, that hurts!”

He whines apologetically and loosens his hold. Pain and lack of oxygen aside, it’s oddly comforting. You haven’t been hugged in ages, and here you were being held by this. A song of soft coos calm you, but there is a noticeable sad tone to them. You look up at him, chin resting on his pecs. “Raptor, I know it sucks here, and I don’t really know what to say to make things better, but I’ll keep trying to hang out with you for as long as I can, alright?” You reassure him while rubbing his chest. “Remember, you’re kind of the best thing that ever happened to this place. Not that my standards in this shithole are very high – they’re actually lower than a regular nomu’s sex drive – but it’s still an achievement you should be proud of.”

Your words did their job, if his lighter hums are anything to go by. His comforting heat was gone too soon when he gently pushed you back, following up with a press of lips against yours.

There’s no more clumsiness in his movements. He switched from light brushes that had you craving more to deep smooches that took your breath away. There wasn’t much else you could do except follow his lead. The teasing licks against your lips never fail to get you going, and he probably knows that by now. Unfortunately, you had to break apart for a breather, allowing him to cradle you as he waited.

“Who the hell have you been kissing while I’m not around to learn so fast?” You joked.

You didn’t expect him to look away and hesitate to answer before uttering, “I...remembered.”

If he was expecting that to upset you, it didn’t. You can’t stop his brain from working, and he no longer automatically gives in to any demands. You still don’t know what’s up with that. “Right,” you sighed. “Are you remembering anything else?”

“No...same things. Hawks...fire...death...I want to forget.” He pulls you in again, this time taking care not to add too much pressure to your bruises. His strangled attempts at speech have become smoother over the days, but hearing the winged hero beneath the layers of grotesque sounds that create his voice is going to take a long time to get used to. “Can...you...make me forget?”

A twinge of sadness and pity. Are his final moments the only parts that keep playing in his head, in a cruel loop? You direct all of your strength into your voice and speak. “Forget about it. Forget about Hawks and all of those foggy memories.”

He sits there and blinks with no clear sign that your words had any effect.

Then he wilts and groans in defeat.

“No good, huh?” You shrug. You truly did wish you could help him. “There’s not much else I can do, sorry.” A pause. “Must feel like nightmares, I guess. I get plenty of those.” You rest in his hold while recalling some of the fears that manifest in your sleep. “Dreams about what they’ll do when they don’t need me anymore. I never had the guts to put myself out of my misery – don’t have many options to work with anyway. Maybe I can ask a nomu to chomp my head off.”

“No.” The word was growled out, felt all around you like a small quake. You quickly try to calm him by raising your uninjured arm to hold and caress his face. You know that he couldn’t exactly feel it anymore, but the memory of your touch is probably what still managed to soothe him. It was an intimate image, touching him so lovingly while in his arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick around. We can make things easier for each other.” Without a second thought, you straighten up and begin pushing down your pants, Hawks already chirping in excitement and fumbling with your shirt, his talons ripping the cloth. You were naked in front of him once again, and the memories of yesterday already have your pussy lubricating itself in preparation. Samples...semen….you weren’t thinking about any of that. You just wanted him again.

“Let’s help each other forget.”

And just like that, you were devoured. His mouth was everywhere and you happily took it all. You were addicted to his touch as much as he was addicted to your flavor. The dark blue tongue moved gracefully across your face, the small grin and lidded eyes telling you that he quite enjoyed the sight of you covered in his saliva. You opened your mouth wide as an invitation that he gladly took, the strong muscle charging straight into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. It makes you gag and has tears pricking at your eyes, yet you continue to throb between your legs.

He fucks your mouth so fast and roughly that you’re forced to only breathe through your nose. You’re clinging onto him as you gurgle around the ravaging muscle, your nails unable to pierce his tough hide no matter how hard you grip.

Something solid rubs right against your sex, grazing your clit and leaving you moaning into his mouth. His hips were bucking into the air with a very prominent tent that constricted his growing cock.

It’s the first time a nomu’s dick actually touches you there.

And it makes your walls clench.

You get closer for more friction, trying to grind against the massive erection while he finally removes his tongue from your mouth. That’s when he notices just how hard you’re trying to get off on his bulge.

Heat is rushing to your face at his puzzled expression. “You-” You gasp, still catching your breath after having him squirm down your throat for so long. “You feel pretty good.”

He simply watches you continue to rub against him – you don’t even notice that his hips are no longer moving, you just press closer to him and grind harder in desperation. His wings flutter and the rest of his body shakes lightly, his breaths coming out in short huffs.

He was laughing.

The look of amusement is so unexpected that it has your hips stopping out of embarrassment. And here you thought nothing else could leave you flustered at this point. “You don’t have to laugh. Trust me, you’ve looked way more desperate than I have,” You tease him.

He clicks his tongue, then with a yank and a loud rip, his shorts are in tatters and his cock springs free right onto your belly. Another short round of huffs are heard from him when you squeak in surprise. Just where did this attitude even come from?

Beads of precum ooze from his pointed head and drip onto your stomach. Maybe it’s your lust-tinted lenses, but his cock is looking much more attractive than usual. Its curved perfectly to hit all of the right spots, and those ridges probably feel amazing when moving inside you.

“Want more?”

The low-pitched voice right in your ear has you shaking, like it was a question from the Devil himself. Thirst aside, you don’t know what you should say. You trust that he won’t fuck you to shreds like the other High Ends would, but the biggest issue…

“I don’t know if I should risk that,” you murmur, a hand reaching to rub the textured flesh. “As tempting as it is right now.”

His confidence is replaced with disappointment. That is, until he immediately perks back up and grabs your hips.

“Wait what are yoooo-whoa!” You’re being lifted off the floor, legs dangling uselessly as he holds you easily, your body hovering right over his twitching dick.

Panic begins to set in. “No! Nononono I said-”

“I won’t.” He says softly. As softly as he can with such a voice, at least. “Calm.”

Instead of penetrating like you feared, he lowers you until your flushed lips are resting on the length of his scaly shaft.

And then, slowly, his hips push forward.

The bumps and creases slide against you in all of the right ways. “Oooh fuck.” You adjust yourself to ensure that he rubs your clit as well. The sensation has you shuddering in his hands as the pressure inside you builds quickly. Your slick makes his dick smoother after each thrust, and when Hawks sees that you’re comfortable and lost in the rhythm, he begins to speed up.

Your legs are swinging madly at a complete loss on how to handle the electrifying friction, but the nomu grunts and takes hold of your thighs. They close around his cock, greatly increasing the pressure as he continued to fuck past your thighs. “Stay there.” The vibration from his deep raspy voice only arouses you more. His hips collide with yours after each buck.

As amazing as it feels, your hazy mind recalls that Hawks shouldn’t be able to properly revel in this outercourse. “I-I thought...you couldn’t feel this.” You say shakily.

Hawks is eyeing your bouncing form with great interest, his hips not missing a beat as he answered. “Can’t. Just watching.”

He presses down on you more, slowing down his pace with his eyes still locked on your face. His tongue quickly swipes across your forehead to taste the sweat that has mixed with his saliva. “You look good.”

Goddamn him.

You felt close, so close, but even as your limbs tingle from the pleasure, your orgasm remained out of reach. The most severe ache that had yet to be sated, to be given any attention, was inside you. You have never throbbed this much in your life, you didn’t even know that your muscles down there could even contract this tightly. The dragging of his cock against your drenched lips isn't enough. You don’t care about risk anymore. Not after feeling what he has to offer.

There’s no voice telling you how stupid you’re being right now. It already gave up on you.

Good.

“Haw–shit–Raptor, inside. I need you inside.” You beg between your moans. He stills completely, which has you whining and squirming even more.

“Inside?”

Hearing him say it sobers you up a bit, but not enough to kill your desire. “Just pull out before you cum, alright? Think you can do that?” You ask.

He nods eagerly, wings and tail moving with glee as he lifts you off of his dick that was already lubed up by your natural fluids. He angles himself until the head is pressing at your twitching entrance.

You can’t tell if you’re trembling from excitement or fear. Probably both.

The fine tip already has you being stretched wide, burning and stinging in spite of your pussy’s preparation. It makes you wince and want to close your eyes – to create some distance between you and the pain – but your curiosity has you looking down to watch him enter you, inch by inch. You can once again see your stomach distend as it attempts to accommodate the large intrusion, much bigger than the slithery tongue that previously invaded it.

But it’s exactly what you craved, the unique texture feeling even more delicious when inside of you. Your toes curl and legs quiver from his girth; not as meaty as the other dicks that you’ve treated, just enough extra thickness to give you a stretch that you’ve never experienced, without causing serious harm.

He reaches the end of your cavern with a few more inches to spare, and the drawn out moan slipping past his lips surprises both of you. You try to relax around him while he fights the urge to move. Black shaky wings expand behind him.

“Feel…” He gasped and choked, one would think that he was trying to learn speech all over again. “Can feel...squeezing. So gooood.” The last word came out as a strong rasp against your face.

The new discovery has you smiling, one of your hands rubbing at a much larger one around your waist. “You can feel it? You feel how tight I am, Raptor? How badly I want you to stay inside me and never leave?” He may not be able to feel your heat or your dampness, but it looks like he can’t escape the pressure from a cunt’s death grip.

He twitches inside, making you jolt. Oh, how quickly the tables have turned.

You scratch under his chin. Numb as he is, he still tilts his head like a pet dying for affection. “Then I want you to fuck me. Stop thinking, and just move...” You bring your face close to his, pulling off a seductive look and tone even when impaled on him. “...Just like a good nomu.”

Perhaps Hawks had a submissive kink when he was alive. It would explain why that riled him up so much that he was already slamming into you with absolutely no warning.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking good. Every thrust tears a helpless cry out of your body. The scales grind against every nerve around your hole, while the ones deeper inside nudge your velvety walls as they move in and out, in and out.

You couldn’t talk between your screams, not with how violently he was pounding you. Your arms and legs wrapped around him and hung on for dear life with your face buried in the crook of his neck. His own muscular arms wrap around you in a deceptively loving embrace, pumping into you with a rhythmic smack smack smack. All you can do is reap what you sow and take it.

This wasn’t just for you, this was for Hawks as well. You gave him something that he could feel again. What began as whiny gasps for air soon became rolling growls that vocalize a need for more.

Your orgasm barely sticks out of the continuous blinding pleasure as he plows harder through your spasms, your contracting muscles wrestling with the merciless cock to hold it inside.

His tone is dark. Vicious. “Tight. So tight!”

It makes your greedy body want even more. “Oh, good job, Raptor. Such a good boy.” You praise him, feeling the brief falter in his movements. He really does like that. “Go ahead and take it all, as much as you need-ah. Don’t worry about me. Fuck me until I can’t think.”

The violent sex stops and you’re being ripped away from that wondrous cock in the blink of an eye. Before you can even question what’s happening, your world begins to spin until you’re suddenly on the floor. You’re getting adjusted onto your hands and knees right before being pierced again with a force that shoves you forward.

Your thoughts struggle to keep up with the lightning-fast sequence of events, hindered even more by the warmth of the body hovering right over you. Hawks too was on all fours, though he looked much more comfortable and natural, wings fully spread out in a proud and dominant display as he throbbed inside of you.

His hips snap forward, already at a rapid pace that rocks you with each hard impact and soon has you howling again. The floor was filled with uneven cracks and scratches that scraped your knees, not that the discomfort was easy to notice while you were being drilled into. As you latched onto one of his arms for support, you noticed right in front of you, was your first game of tic tac toe.

Drool dripped down from the snarling jaws above you and onto the innocent group of lines and shapes.

The mounting beast humped you with every ounce of energy he had. Your aching pussy couldn’t take it. Too hard...too big... you’re cumming again around his pistoning cock, moans melting into defeated sobs. The huge pair of swinging balls occasionally smacked right into your oversensitive clit. You were losing the will to hold yourself up, gripping his supportive arm more tightly while your thighs quivered. Even if you had the strength to, you had no plans to ask the feral savage to stop.

He currently wasn’t anything like the gentle experiment you’ve befriended in just a few days. Right now, with his head thrashing around and flinging spittle everywhere as he barked, and wings beating hard against the floor, he was terrifying. Powerful, hungry, and single-minded.

So this is what it’s like to give in to a nomu.

It’s scary.

It’s thrilling.

Every fast agonizing stroke right against your cervix takes your breath away, your mouth eventually just hanging open in an attempt to capture whatever oxygen it could into your lungs. Hawks curls into himself so that he can crane his neck and look at you, saliva flowing freely down his chin. Each breath came out as a throaty growl wafting against your sweaty face. He takes one look at your parted lips, and stuffs you with his tongue.

If your thoughts were more coherent at the moment, you’d wonder how the hell the muscle was strong enough to be able to move into your throat as hard as the dick that continued to wreck your insides. His hips assisted in gagging you even more with each thrust. The threat of asphyxiation only brought you closer to your next orgasm.

Your mind was empty, save for the immoral thoughts that have long since driven off their more honorable competition.

Just use me.

Your entire body was on fire, getting pummeled from both ends.

Just use me however the fuck you want.

Hawks is suddenly bombarding your cunt with short and speedy ruts of his hips, and that does it. Your limbs give out and leave you to plop onto the floor as your pleasure blooms all over. But his long tongue follows you, still pushing into your whimpering mouth to deprive you of much-needed air. He simply lowers himself and proceeds to fuck you hard into the ground, pressing your skin into his many carvings.

His tongue leaves...your eyes rolling back….

Hawks releases a horrid cry that sounds like both a roar and a bird-like shriek.

Exhaustion…

Hawks is too lost in the surprising sensations, dull but still intense, to realize that he’s shooting his thick load into your womb

Warmth...full...sleep.

x---x---x---x---x

“Get up.”

The voice is muffled as you slowly come to. Whatever you’re resting on doesn’t feel like your bed.

“I know you’re awake. Hurry and get up.”

You’re surrounded by warmth, by something breathing. Pain shoots through your back and legs when you stir. When you open your eyes, you see the golden eyes of a High End.

The fear does well in masking your aches as you scramble out of the arms of what turned out to be Hawks, who was lounging on his side like a giant cat.

And standing at the door, was the damned doctor that you had the privilege of seeing every day.

His stare looked even more judgmental than it usually did. Full-on disgusted, actually. Realizing that you’re still naked, you grab one of Hawks’s wings that were splayed out on the floor to shield yourself.

He simply shakes his head. “I’ve already seen enough. And heard enough.”

Oh shit.

“I-I…” you stammer, panic rising in your chest as you’re unable to come up with any sort of explanation. You even turn to Hawks, like he’d somehow provide you with the answer.

“I normally don’t care what deplorable methods you people use to collect your samples, but going by the filth between your legs...” That prompts you to look down, and the second you do, you already feel a dense fluid oozing out of you and running down your legs that were stained with white. “...you actually allowed Raptor to inseminate you.”

His words, along with your accelerating heartbeat, thunders in your ears. Hawks is watching his seed leak from your raw pussy. He remains still and quiet, uncertain of how to act in the presence of a doctor.

“To think that someone would deliberately let a nomu breed them. I know that the two of you have gotten close,” His eyes skimmed past the many images and markings in the room. “But just how depraved do you have to be to go this far with a nomu?”

If this was before the days you allowed Hawks to touch you, you would have felt embarrassed. You are scared. Not only did he cum inside you, you’ve also been caught right after the act.

But any sort of shame?

You had the nerve to huff, still hiding your body from him not out of shyness, but because the asshole didn’t deserve the view. “I guess we’re all sick fucks around here,” you retort.

The glare on his glasses add to the intimidation factor of his glower. He takes a step forward and gives a quick tilt of his head. “Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

Both you and Hawks are taken back. “For what?”

He scowls even harder. “Still asking questions? You’re lucky that you’re valuable right now. You have most likely been impregnated. This is an unexpected opportunity to observe one of Raptor’s offspring. We’ll be watching over you until the birth.”

You don’t move, still soaking in every word. This most definitely was a mistake. Not only are you going to be taken away from Hawks to be cooped up in a room with constant surveillance, you’re going to have a...fuck.

You feel the wing in your grasp vibrate softly, Hawks sensing your distress and attempting to silently reassure you.

“I said get dressed,” the doctor ordered impatiently. “Or are you still basking in the afterglow?” He snickered at his own joke before walking forward, ready to take you by force.

That’s when the nomu in the room finally stood up to step right in front of you, standing tall in all of his naked glory and easily towering over the man.

You had to give the guy credit for not looking phased by the very dangerous creature blocking his path. Then again, maybe he was just so sure that Hawks wouldn’t harm him in any way.

“Out of the way, Raptor.” Strong and firm. It’s the tone that ensures a nomu’s obedience, but you know by now that Hawks’s mind has grown beyond that.

As expected, Hawks doesn’t budge, still looking down with eyes of liquid gold.

The doctor only looks more annoyed, not afraid. “I knew you were defective,” he sneered. “Always hesitating during tests. Such wasted potential, yet the others insist on keeping you around. To do what? Decorate rooms? The idiots should have altered your brain by now.”

What?

Hawks still didn’t move. The lack of reaction was beginning to get to the man’s nerves, his hands balling into fists as he contemplated what action to take next. You stayed mostly hidden behind Hawks, anxiously looking past his wings.

When he accepted that the nomu wasn’t going to move, and forcing his way past him was too dangerous of an option, he smirked. “Fine, then. You’re only making yourself look worse. I’m certain I can convince them to move forward with that operation after they see how defiant you’re being right now.”

No! You feel so damn useless. The bastard wanted to change him into something more compliant. How much would that change Hawks himself? You don’t know if there’s anything you can do that won’t just end with you being thrown into the lion’s den.

The doctor placed two fingers to his temple. Fuck, his quirk.

“Backup needed in South Hall, room five o’ ni-”

He stopped. Pure shock took over his face, words replaced with the faintest choked sounds. You truly considered asking if he was feeling alright.

Until a thin line of red appeared at his throat, blood oozing out, the bleeding getting heavier by the second.

“What. The. Fuck?” Your breaths were becoming too short as you watched him crumple, the liquid crimson quickly pooling around him. “What the fuck is going on?”

The confusion and fear was making you delirious. God, you were going to pass out again, this is too fucking much, this asshole was about to take you away because you have a monster growing inside you and then he was going to turn Hawks into a regular High End but now he’s dead but who the fuck killed him and what’s about to happen to you-

“Calm.”

A large hand on your shoulder grounds you, steadying your breathing and expanding your tunnel vision. Hawks is in front of you, releasing soft coos.

“Wha–how–wha…” Your shaky lips are unable to form words, but he seems to understand. Something materializes right in front of you. Small, black, and sharp. It’s a feather, floating between the both of you. “What?” You finally spit out.

“Camouflage,” that’s all he says, as if that explains everything. Since when was he able t-

Whatever. There’s too much shit happening right now.

Still shaking, you look to see the doctor still bleeding, some of the blood flowing into the engravings and painting them red.

“Y-you killed him?” You whisper.

He nods, staring apathetically at the body.

“But, I thought you didn’t…” You trailed off, too stunned by everything that has happened to finish.

He turned his attention back to you, red irises – as red as the blood that continued flow – staring into your frightened eyes. “It gets easier.”

Once again, you’re not sure what to say to that.

He looks to the door. “More coming soon.”

Right, whoever the doctor was contacting must be wondering why his telepathy was suddenly cut off.

“I want to leave.”

“Leave? Like, you want to escape?” Another nod. “That’s...I don’t know if that’s possible. There are villains around here. Strong villains. Shit, they might release some of the nomu on us!”

“You want to stay?”

Your mouth opens, then closes.

“I’m strong, and fast.” His wings unfurl and sharpen every feather, his tail curling around you so that you can see the knifelike plumes on it. “Can heal very fast and blend in. Can do a lot.”

The display and simple explanation reminds you that you haven’t seen any of his combative skills firsthand. This is what they made him for.

Well then…

“Right, then how about we give them a final test?” Just when you were finally calming down, adrenaline is already being pumped back into your veins. “Let’s show them how unstoppable their latest work is.”

His little peep of agreement nearly ruined the moment, but it reminds you why you’ve grown so fond of him.

He turns around and crouches, motioning you to climb onto his back and wrap your arms around his neck. It was awkward, mostly due to the wings that you were squishing under you, but when you voiced your worries he just gave you an “It’s fine.” He warned you to hang on extra tightly whenever he gets low to the ground. He’s a much faster runner on all fours.

Stepping over the corpse that has bled dry, he stopped at the door and braced himself.

“Ready?”

Your arms and legs were secured around him. You breathed in through your nose then out through your mouth.

Breath in. Breathe out.

A lot of death and destruction is probably about to come your way.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It would be great if you never had to fill another jar ever again.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Your clammy skin hasn’t felt sunlight in fucking forever. Are the heroes even still alive out there?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You try not to think about what’s happening in your womb.

“I’m ready.”

The door is pushed open.

x---x---x---x---x

Targets first spotted at 12:50

The old surveillance cameras flicker and lag. It makes noticing the running black figure all the more difficult. On most screens, you’ll see nothing more than a blur. There will be the occasional confrontation with villains, sometimes accompanied by researchers with incapacitation quirks. More often than not, the escapees easily outmaneuver them, crawling and leaping on every surface and zooming past their potential captors before they can even follow.

Some of the stronger villains and nomu slow the duo down only briefly before they collapse from an unseen force. The recovered bodies possessed deep cuts across major arteries or accurate punctures in their major organs.

Some footage shows the two sometimes climbing into vents, temporarily escaping the cameras.

The woman on the High End’s back was injured during the fatal showdown at the hospital’s exit, enraging it to the point where it swiftly killed everyone in its vicinity, including fleeing researchers that were only caught in the crossfire.

Targets escaped facility at 13:09

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

SUBJECT HAS ESCAPED. NOMU IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS. TAKE EVERY PRECAUTION IN RETRIEVING IT.

Some things are too good to be true. It turned out that Raptor’s brain has, shall we say, faulty wiring. Several observations have noted him hesitating upon certain commands. This should not be a constant problem with any High End. I don’t understand why they did not immediately work on this issue. It’s possible that they feared irreversible changes to his unique mind.

I personally believe that many of these flaws are the result of a compassionate host. The hero Hawks was unmistakably a gifted combatant, probably the most gifted individual the facility has gotten their hands on, but his attitude did not translate well into the role of a nomu. On the bright side, I never thought I’d ever see nomu, let alone a High End, show such genuine fondness over a human. I believe it’s worth another try in the future.

But for now, we should stick to what works. There are more than enough lowly criminals to go around.

#Hawks #smut #nomu #noumu #terato #monster fucking #hawks x reader #shh the doctors don't know about shirakumo #happy october?#tw blood #tw death

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Heroic Deeds

Thanks to @boldlyanxious and @ive-fallen-down-the-rabbithole for the idea

Marinette was going to kill her roommate. Because that’s why she was in this situation in the first place, her roommate was too busy to pick up his own damn paperwork. And she was just too “nice” to say no. And puppy dog eyes should be illegal. In fact, that was the next house rule. No puppy dog eyes. She has never in her life been able to say no to puppy dog eyes and mean it. Manon, Etta, Ella, Adrien… no more! Hence forth they were banned. It was already a rule with the kwami. It would just have to be instituted as a rule with humans as well.

But until then, she had to deal with this ridiculousness. This thief that sounded like he was bored out of his mind, like she was inconveniencing him by being held hostage. Is it too much to ask for him to be more invested in this than she is? I mean, she may be the one with the gun pointed at her, but he’s the one that’s pointing it and he’s the one that broke into the office to steal whatever documents he was halfheartedly looking for during the day instead of at night when NOBODY WOULD BE THERE.

But noooo, this jackass had to do it during the day and at the exact moment when she would be there. Really, what was her luck? Was this punishment for not wearing Tikki constantly anymore? She was only supposed to be in this office for a total of a whole ninety seconds. Walk in, grab the documents that were supposed to be ready and waiting for her, and walk out. But instead she was stuck here critiquing this idiot’s ransacking skills, because that ninety seconds is exactly when this blasé thief decided to strike.

At least Kate was safe, she huffed to herself. Kate had been lucky enough to have gone to the backroom for the documents just a few seconds before Idiot Man came in. Hopefully, she had escaped through the backdoor and had contacted the police already. Because apparently Kate hadn’t pissed off the kwami of luck like Marinette somehow had. She and Tikki were going to have a very long, very hissy discussion when she got back home.

And this guy wasn’t. Even. Paying. Attention. To. Her. The gun was pointed in her general direction, but it was like she was the furthest thing from his mind, like she held the same threat level as a kitten. But that was his mistake, underestimating her, because this kitten had claws. God, she’s been hanging out with Adrien too much. She’s beginning to think like him. She let out a breath and banged her head against the back of the chair she was sitting in out of frustration and disappointment in herself.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he was ignoring her to focus on his search, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that either. She would think he was high on something if there were any other signs of it. No, this just was just bored, like he was wasting time, waiting for the police to show up. Maybe it’s the ski mask he was wearing that was annoying him. Who wears a ski mask in the summer? And… did he just check his phone! Oh, Hell no! That was the final straw.

She moved before she could overthink it, sliding over the desk she had moved behind when he came in. She plowed into his chest with both feet, catching him completely off guard and knocking him back into the filing cabinet.

“Hey, get off me!” he yelled, sounding more affronted than worried.

She twisted around and kicked the gun out of his hand with one leg, following it up with a punch that would have broken his nose if he hadn’t blocked it with his forearm, redirecting her hit. She stopped her momentum before breaking her hand on the filing cabinet. She pulled her arm back instead striking her elbow directly into his cheek.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, holding his cheek and looking up at her like she was crazy.

He reached for his gun, but she kicked his arm and raced for it herself, kicking it under a nearby cabinet. “That was my gun!” he gritted out, rounding on her. At least he finally looked invested in this.

“I noticed,” she smirked at him, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face. He dodged at the last second and shoved her leg, changing her momentum and sending her flying toward the edge of the table. She squeezed her eyes shut as she braced herself for the impact. If she timed this right, she could use the table as a springboard to go back at him. The table was solidly built from thick, heavy wood and metal. It had to weigh several hundred pounds. It would be able to take her weight without moving even a centimeter. She took a breath to prepare, but the impact was significantly softer than she had anticipated and didn’t give her the bounce back she expected, causing her to end up sprawled on the floor instead of springing back at the thief.

Before she had even registered what happened, she heard a grunt in front of her and the sound of the table scraping against the floor as it moved. She looked up to a red helmet looking back at her. Her eyes flicked down quickly to his chest as if she needed the confirmation the bright red bat there gave her. He stood up quickly, rubbing his shoulder as he approached her. He knelt down in front of her. “You okay?” His voice was considerably softer than she would have anticipated from the vigilante considered to be the most dangerous of the bats.

She stared at him for a few seconds, shocked by the tone and to see him there in the first place. She had been expecting the police not a bat. It was daytime, everyone knew they didn’t come out during the day. The bat signal didn’t work during the day. “Miss,” he tried again, his voice taking on a concerned edge.

“Oh! Yes. Yeah. I’m fine.” She nodded rapidly and reached down to rub her leg where the thief had pushed her, more to relieve anxiety than because it actually hurt.

“You’re hurt.” It was a comment, not a question.

“It’s okay, really,” she tried to assure him, but he was already up and stalking toward the thief who had started edging toward the door. Marinette mentally scoffed at his stupidity. She understood underestimating her, she was an unknown and looked tiny. But Red Hood was a known entity. His threat level was well established. Why on Earth wouldn’t the thief have run as soon as he appeared?

“Hood…” he started nervously, holding up his hands as though trying to placate him.

Whatever other argument he was going to try to make died on his lips as Hood picked him up and threw him through the large, plate glass, front window. He stood at the window for a few seconds, watching the thief run away. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to her. “How badly are you hurt?” He approached her slowly. He rolled his shoulder a few times, almost imperceptibly. If she hadn’t been familiar with trying to hide an injury, she might have missed it.

Marinette smiled at him. “I’m not. Are you? Did I hurt your shoulder when I slammed into you?”

“Are you sure?” He stopped a respectable distance from her. He seemed to eye her leg suspiciously, but backed off questioning it. “I mean emotionally too. An incident like that can be stressful for some people.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Please, that wasn’t stressful. That was annoying. And you didn’t answer my question. How is your shoulder?”

Red Hood paused for a few seconds watching her. “It’s fine. You weren’t afraid?”

Marinette scoffed. “No. The most stressful part of this is I’m supposed to be picking up some important documents for my roommate and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get them now.”

“If you didn’t feel afraid of what he would do, why did you attack him? You could have provoked him into doing something he wasn’t going to do before,” he gently chided her.

Marinette let out an annoyed sigh. “You sound like my roommate.”

“Sounds like a wise man. Why didn't you listen?” He cocked his head to the side.

She mumbled something into her feet, not making eye contact with him.

He arched his head closer to her. “What was that?” She mumbled something again, slightly louder this time, but still not loud enough for him to understand what she said. “What?”

“Because he pissed me off. Okay?” she finally yelled in exasperation.

“What did he do to piss you off?” he asked carefully, because if the guy did anything to hurt her, he was going to hunt the asshole down and kill him.

“He was bored,” she growled. “He was holding me at gunpoint and acting like I was the one that forced him into the situation and it pissed me off, okay. I mean the audacity!” Red Hood fought laughing at the adorable scrunched up face she made as she talked. She waved her arms around agitatedly as she spoke. “You don't want to be here? Newsflash, asshole! Neither do I! I mean, if you’re going to threaten me, put some effort into it, you know? Am I not worth the effort?”

“You are.” Red Hood answered instantly. “I mean, you seem like you are… from what I can tell.”

“It’s just disrespectful,” she groused, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting as she leaned against the table.

“Extremely,” he agreed absently, staring at her pouting lips. “Lucky for you though. Seems like he underestimated you. I don’t even think you needed this knight in shining leather to rescue you.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I already have a knight in shining leather. Two, actually, if you count my roommate, which I do. I don’t really need another.”

He motioned like he wanted to take his helmet off but stopped himself. He positioned his arm on the table she was leaning on, supporting his weight as he leaned closer to her. “But are they heroes?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I mean… to me,” she added quickly. She didn’t need anyone making any kind of a connection between her and Chat.

He seemed to contemplate her for a moment before responding. “You must be quite something to have so many knights willing to fight for you. But, maybe you can use another, after all they’re not here right now and I am. I can be your knight in shining Kevlar instead.”

She chuckled, looking down shyly. When she looked back up, it was through her eyelashes. “Yes, you are here and during the day too,” she smirked at him. “I didn’t think you guys could come out during the day. I thought sun repelled you.”

“You’re thinking of vampires.”

She pretended to study him carefully. “So you’re stating for the official record that you are not, in fact, vampires then? Just regular bats. Interesting.” She looked away nodding as if in thought. “I’ll have to let my friend know you’re refuting that theory. She runs a superhero blog. The vampire Bats theory is one of the more popular posts.”

He chuckled and she could hear the smile through his words. “We aren’t. Well, I’m not. Can’t vouch for Robin though. He’s definitely some kind of cryptid.”

Her face was starting to hurt from trying to contain her smile. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. “Although… you could be lying. After all, you are entirely covered right now… in the middle of the day… in the summer. That’s a lot of leather for a hot day. It kind of looks like you’re hiding from the sun.” She shrugged her shoulders innocently.

Red Hood stared at her a few more seconds and she was cursing the helmet for an entirely different reason than she usually did. Right now she was dying to know what kind of face he was making. Was he smirking? Was he frowning? Was he blushing? Did she make Red Hood blush! Was he enjoying the interaction or was she annoying him? He moved over to the window he had thrown the thief through earlier and stopped a few feet from it. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his forearm and exposed it to the sun. “Happy?”

Marinette looked at his forearm for a few seconds, struck by the muscles that were so defined even in his forearms. The things that man could probably do with his hands… She walked closer and started to reach out to touch his forearm only to snap her hand back at the last second. Her cheeks blazed brightly. She cleared her throat lightly. “For now,” she nodded as casually as she could manage, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Don’t feel shy, P… rincess,” he smirked at her. “Feel free to feel freely.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, as much to stop herself from reaching out to touch him as embarrassment. “Probably not a good idea to go around groping people you don’t know so….”

“So,” he started quietly, moving closer to her, “you’re saying you want to get to know me better and then you’ll grope me.” He quirked his head to the side as he took another step closer. “How well do we have to know each other for that? ‘Cuz, I’d let you do it now, so it’s all up to you.”

Marinette’s cheeks blazed a deep red. She looked away to collect herself. While this was fun and Red Hood’s body should be as illegal as his actions, she wasn’t looking to be another notch for him and considering the speed he was moving with someone he just met a few seconds ago, that’s all she would be. She took a breath and looked back up at him. “I’m saying… I should find the papers I was sent here for and get them back to my roommate.”

“Let me walk you home. Make sure the guy doesn’t come back. I can check the security of your place too to make sure you’re safe,” he offered in a tone that sounded sincere.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Okay?” He sounded surprised at her answer. Most women must not say yes to him, which frankly she had a really hard time believing.

“To the walk, not the apartment check,” she corrected him firmly. “My apartment is safe.”

“Are you sure? I can…”

“My roommate made sure it’s safe and I trust my roommate more than I trust you,” she cut him off. “No offense.”

Red Hood was silent for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay.”

<><><><><>

Marinette laid down on the couch for a while after getting home replaying the events in her head. No matter how many times she ran through them, they still didn’t make any sense. The thief didn’t make sense. Red Hood being there during the day didn’t make sense. And Red Hood hitting on her… didn’t not make sense, but it definitely dampened the crush she had on him.

After a little while, her stomach reminded her she had planned to pick up something to eat after picking up the paperwork, which means she hadn’t eaten since the croissant she had at breakfast and it was now dinnertime. She let out a groan and forced herself up off the couch. Maybe chopping some vegetables would make her feel better anyway.

She had already started sautéing the onions when the puppy dog eyed man himself finally made it home. “That smells great, Mari. Were you able to get the paperwork?”

Marinette blinked at him a few times before narrowing her eyes and pointing the knife she was holding at him. “You’re not allowed to do puppy dog eyes anymore!”

“What? Why? I mean… I don’t… do that,” he trailed off quietly at the glare she was sending him.

“Yes, you do,” she glowered and went back to cutting vegetables for dinner a little more forcefully than she had originally.

“So what happened that was so bad?” he asked carefully. He moved to sit on the counter, but made sure to keep a fair distance between him and Marinette, or more specifically, her knife.

“The office got robbed!” she exclaimed loudly, waving the knife wildly. “While I was in it!”

He jumped down off the counter and ran to her. He grabbed her shoulders and looked her over carefully for any signs of injury. “Mari! Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Marinette scoffed. “No. I just started trying to take him down when Red Hood interrupted.”

“Red Hood, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Yes, Red Hood,” she rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly and took the knife from her hand first. Once he was fairly safe from getting stabbed, accidentally or on purpose, he continued. “Did you flirt with him?”

“What?” Her cheeks flared brightly. What the hell! Why was he asking her that? That was not a conversation she wanted to have. It was hard enough to have normal conversations with him and his tight shirts and charming smile and piercing eyes, but him encouraging her to flirt with other people was really not a conversation she wanted to have.

“Well you… you like him, right? You said he was your favorite and he was a dilf, even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any kids,” he said nonchalantly as he swirled the onions in the pan.

“Yeah, because he could be my daddy,” Marinette muttered to herself, but apparently not as quietly as she thought she did, judging by the choking sounds next to her.

“What!”

“What?” The smug smirk making its way across his face told her that her denial didn’t come across as innocently as she had hoped. “Shut up, Jason.”

“So he made a good impression then?” He asked somewhat awkwardly, which was bizarre for him. “You might even want to see him again?”

She smacked him in the shoulder pausing when he flinched heavily. She stared at him, studying him closely. That was where Red Hood had been nursing earlier. Red Hood, who has the same dimensions as Jason. Red Hood, who had a still healing cut on his forearm in the exact same spot as the one Jason mysteriously showed up with a few days ago. Red Hood, who knew her roommate was a he. Red Hood, who reminded her so much of Jason, which is why she liked him so much in the first place. Red Hood, who was definitely flirting with her as he rescued her while she was the only one… in Jason’s aunt’s office… after saving her from someone who, thinking back, had the same dimensions and eye color as Roy…

“Oh he made an impression,” she said absentmindedly, still staring at his shoulder.

“A… um, a good one? He did save you, right? Heroic deeds and all? Women love a hero,” Jason added casually.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, letting the pieces settle into place. Finally, her eyes widened in realization. “You set it up…”

Jason’s face went blank. “I… What?”

“You set it up,” Marinette repeated with more confidence. “You… Why?”

“What are you talking about?” Jason tried desperately.

She punched him hard in the shoulder. “Jesus! Fuck, Pixie. That hurt.” Jason cried out as he rubbed his aching shoulder.

“Good! What the fuck? Why would you do that? Were you trying to scare me?”

“No! I was… Because… because you liked Red Hood. I wanted you to meet him,” he said defensively. He looked away and took a breath. When he looked back, his voice was quieter, shakier. “You wanted Red Hood and… and I wanted you so…”

“You know, you could have just, I don’t know, popped up on the roof when I was there or showed up when I was walking home. You didn’t have to stage a robbery! Think about all that damage Kate has to deal with now!”

“She was remodeling anyway. She needed to demo the entire office so… two birds, you know?” He shrugged a little too casually to be casual and flipped the onions again.

“And one bat.” He rolled his eyes at her. “Or you could have just… said something”

“You weren’t interested in me. You were interested in Red Hood.”

Marinette let out a long sigh. “I was interested in Red Hood because he reminded me of you.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. And liking him seemed less emotionally damaging than destroying my relationship with you by flirting.”

“You thought I wasn’t interested?” He looked at her incredulously. She looked down at her feet, shuffling them awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact, almost like she was afraid of what he was going to say. He couldn’t allow that to continue. He turned off the stove and walked up to her slowly, careful not to scare her, just like Red Hood had earlier that day. He gently cupped her face, softly enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. He stroked her cheeks tenderly.

When he finally spoke up again, his voice was loving and reverent. “Pix, I’m head over heels. I don’t think you even… no, I know you don’t know how much or you wouldn’t question why I tried talking to you as Red Hood instead. I love you, Pix. I love your heart and your humor and your sass and your passion… and your face. I love that too.

“And God, your smiles. I love your smile when you’re happy, which is different than your smile when you beat me at UMS, which is different than your smile when you see a little kitten, which is different than your smile when you’re thinking about home, which is different than your smile after you’ve completed a commission, which is different than your smile when I make an amazing joke that you hate. I love them all and I just want to see any of them, all of them, every day.”

He didn’t realize how close he had gotten to Marinette’s face until he realized the gasp she let out sounded like it was right next to him. She laid her hands over his wrists. “Jason…”

“And I really hope I didn’t…”

“Jason!” she interrupted. He looked at her wide eyed. She smiled reassuringly at him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh God, Pixie, you can’t imagine how happy that would make me,” he smiled down at her, lowering himself so his lips were close enough for her to reach.

She grinned back up at him as she pushed herself up, her lips a few millimeters from his. “Oh, I think I have an idea,” she whispered before closing the distance.

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - heist

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b0ba-chan · 4 years

Text

Sweet Mother

summary: Suga wants some sugar from his student’s mom

pairing: Sugawara Koushi x MILF!Reader

word count: 1690

warnings: semi-public sex, older!reader (still both adults), your unnamed kid

a/n: I have no idea why i loved this concept a lot, but suga does have a preference for older women

Koushi is a loved and well known teacher at the elementary school he taught at. Every student that had him always wished they could stay in his class longer and every parent loved him. He was easy to get along with his kind nature being seen as flirtatious to the mothers. They all adore him, even if they were much too old for him, he was just so easy to stare at.

It was the beginning of the new school year, he stood at his door to greet each student who came in, occasionally talking to a few worried parents. He looked so young, they were scared their kids might not be getting the education they need if it’s someone so young and carefree. But he’s kind enough to reassure them that he can handle it, hiding the fact that he was annoyed that they keep doubting his skills.

There was barely a minute till the bell, he noticed he was missing one kid was missing on his roster. Suga looks up from his clipboard and sees a woman running towards the classroom, dragging her kid along, “I am so sorry if we are late!”

Koushi was shocked when you stopped right in front of him, bowing down at a ninety degree angle while the kid ignored the teacher and his mother entirely, walking into the classroom. You babble out apologies and how you’ll try your best to get here earlier. Suga laughs a little and tries to calm you down, gently holding your shoulder to get you to stand up straight. What he wasn’t expecting to see someone so young for a mom, he was taken back at how pretty you were. You were definitely older than him, but you could be mistaken for someone his age if they haven’t known you were a mother.

“It’s alright really. I’m Sugawara Koushi,” He gives you a sweet smile and bows his head slightly in greeting. Finally relaxing, you let out a huff and smile at him, bowing back in greeting.

“Thank you Sugawara-Sensei, I’m (L/N)(F/N),” before you can say anything else, the bell rings causing you to curse under your breath and you bow once more before leaving.

He watches you walk away a little longer, chuckling under his breath. The only thing running through his mind in those few minutes, is the fact that he didn’t see a ring on your finger. Shaking the thought away, he heads into class to start the day.

As weeks went on, Suga hasn’t seen you since that incident, but your son has been causing a lot of trouble. Coming to class late, not finishing work or turning anything in, it was a big struggle to get him to do anything in class. There were always a few that didn’t want to cooperate with his teaching the first few days, but they always gave in. Not your son though. It was getting frustrating for him to even talk to the kid, and everytime he tried to call his father there was no answer. Last resort for him was to call you. Before he picks up the phone to dial you, he pauses to think about you for a bit. You were stunning in his eyes, he wasn't’ able to take you off his mind the entire day you first met. That day he thought that maybe it was just the strange encounter you had with him, but your face and voice lingered in his mind a few days after.

Sugawara sighs and picks up the phone and dials the number under your name. He waits while the phone rang, zoning out for a bit, remembering every detail about your face, especially those soft plump and pink lips.

“Hello?” your voice snaps him back into reality, making him jump in his chair a bit. The other staff members in the office look at him and he apologizes under his breath to them, “Hi, (L/N)-san, this is Sugawara-sensei from your son’s school. I just wanted to talk about him for a minute if you have time?” He bites his lip, hoping you have the time to keep talking to him.

“Ah, I am so sorry Sugawara-sensei, I am busy right now. Is it if I come and talk in person after work? I should be able to make it just after classes should end for you.” Your worried voice wavers through the phone, worried that your son hasn’t been causing too much trouble for him. “That should be fine, then. I will see you, then?”

Agreeing to the meeting, the two of you bid each other good bye till later. Koushi silently cheers after hanging up, finally getting to see you. Part of him feels pathetic for having such a school boy crush on you, a mother of his student of all things, but he always had a thing for older women. The rest of the day felt like torture for him, counting the minutes and hours till your meeting. When the meeting came around, your son was excused, only wanting to have a one on one meeting with each other.

Knocking on the classroom door, you side it open to see Koushi working at his desk. “H-hello, Sugawara-sensei. You wanted to talk?” You smile softly at him and he stands from his desk, nodding as he pulls a chair out next to him.

“Yes this is about your son, please sit,” Koushi tries not to stutter, taking in your outfit. You were wearing a nice fitting pencil skirt with a white blouse tucked into it. Your heels click as you walk to the seat, taking it as you thank him. His eyes betray him as he caught a glimpse down your blouse, quickly taking a seat across from you. As he explains what's going on with your son, he can’t help but to notice tears forming up in your eyes. Sugawara grabs the tissue box to offer it to which you take gratefully.

“I am so sorry he has put you through so much trouble. We’ve been having trouble at home and he wants to help, but he’s too young. His father hasn’t been sending child support, but I’m not trying to make any excuses, I just hope you can forgive him and his attitude,” You let soft hiccups past your lips, sniffling as you already soaked the tissue.

“Ma’am, please do not worry. I am sorry for your troubles, I just wanted to see if there was anything I can help with,” Koushi gives you a small smile and takes another tissue to wipe your eyes for you. Looking up, your eyes caught his, a sudden feeling of tension between you two starts to build up. He was so close to you and he continued to lean closer to you, his hand dropped the tissue and took your cheek into his hand, pulling you in for a kiss.

You waste no time kissing back. The only reason that you haven’t been visiting, besides work, was that Sugawara was so very cute, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself or your son in front of him. His lips were as soft as you imagine and oddly sweet, just like sugar. His soft lips were opposite of his style of kissing, pretty aggressive and passionate.

He couldn’t wait any longer, pulling you on his lap so you can straddle him. “S-Sugawara-sensei,” your hands go to grip his shoulders to stable yourself. “Koushi, call me Koushi, (Y/N).”

Kisses were pressed on your neck, causing your eyes to flutter shut, getting lost in the feeling of his sweet touches. “K-Koushi, I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” huffing out between small moans,”ever since I saw you.” He groans and unbuttons your blouse, helping you shrug it off. He goes straight to attacking your chest, reaching around to unhook your bra as you reach down to fumble at Suga’s belt then reaching down his boxers to pull his cock out. Koushi moans around your nipple at the warmth of hand, already fully hard in your hand.

The man reaches around to unzip your skirt, helping you stand up to slip the skirt off and panties, tossing the stray cloth into his drawer. “C’mon, (Y/N), come sit on my dick. If you’ve been thinking about me so much, show me what you want.” He grabs your hips to pull you back on his lap.

As you position yourself above him, Suga goes back to sucking on your nipple and palming your other tit in his hand. You let out a satisfied gasp as you slide down on his cock, stress oozing out of your body in a form of slick coming from your cunt. After adjusting to his size, you start bouncing on his cock letting out moan after every bounce. Those long days of thinking about you and finally calling you really had a positive outcome.

“Good, bunny, bounce on my cock. So gorgeous,” he moans hotly around your nipple, creaming around his cock. It has been so long since you’ve been fucked so well, the smallest touches Suga gave you felt like heaven. As he feels your walls convulse around him, he lifts you up and sits you on the dest to have his way with you. He wastes no time and starts going at a brutal pace on your sensitive pussy.

“K-Kou! Too much!” You throw your head back and grip his hair, trying to find some sort of stability with him, his slim fingers find your clit and play with the little bud. He’s hitting places your ex-husband was never able to hit, sending you over the edge once more, coming to your next orgasm.

Koushi moans loudly into your neck and shoots his load into your warmth, shivering at the feeling of release. “Fuck, so good bunny, so good around me.” Slowing down his fingers and thrusts until he’s oversensitive, sliding out slowly. Suga takes your lips and keeps it slow yet deep.

“I am always here to help, all you need to do is call.”

#sugawara #sugawara x reader #suga #suga x reader #sugawara koushi #sugawara koushi x reader #haikyuu #haikyu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #boba!post

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fishmongeringstudies · 3 years

Text

the year i turned twenty i stopped waiting for someone to save my life and started eating more vegetables

in the winter of 2018 i got a root canal done on the molar in the upper left-hand corner of my mouth. it had been on the verge of death for a while now; two years prior to that a visiting government-sponsored school dentist had taken a look at it, frowned, and then spent the next two hours wheedling all the rot out of that tiny black hole with a drill. unfortunately the solution he imposed was both extremely painful and temporary, and so two years after the initial incident i found myself once again at the dentist's (this time at a clinic; school dentists don't like to deal with the extra-gritty stuff and are not paid enough to do so). they stuck a needle in my gum, numbed three-quarters of my mouth, then drilled a hole through the center of my tooth and ripped the withering shred of nerve-tissue right out of it.

my dentist helpfully explained all of the above to me during our consultation session in the same office in which he would rip the top half of my tooth off a week later. he was a balding, smiling man whose speech did not, unlike many medical professionals i had met over the years, have an edge of condescension to it. i liked him. i would have liked him more were he not planning to essentially castrated my tooth.

several weeks later i went to another dentist who specialized in helping people in post-root canal limbo, and she stuck a shiny metal crown on what was left of my molar. we then scheduled a series of check-ups to ensure that the crown had not flown off its liege while i attacked an ice cube or something similarly bad for my teeth and mental health, which stretched on for so long that she became, more or less, my primary dental care physician. at first the check-ups were a month apart. then two. time passed. her hair grew longer and our conversations less awkward; she was beautiful and snarky and looked like she would shoot god without hesitation if he stepped into range of her gun. she wore her hair short, red tinged with gold, in a pixie-cut that fell over half of one eye. for a while i thought i was in love with her.

'do you floss?' she asked me on my second check-up.

'no,' i said.

'well.' she broke off a length of dental floss and began to wind it around her fingers. it looked like a death threat and she looked ready to kill, though her eyes were smiling. 'you should.'

for the first year after having an utterly destroyed tooth brought back from the brink of death via a grisly temporary solution that would, at best, buy me one or two decades of peace, i didn't. i didn't floss because when she did it for me in her tiny examination room my gums bled so much it took hours for me to wash the bitter taste of iron out of my mouth. blood is a nice concept and a nicer motif in writing. but it smells awful, and it's worst on the tongue. so i didn't floss my teeth, and i went through life with the kind of casual detached disinterest with which i had approached most things up until then. at my next check-up she asked once again if i had been flossing and i lied that i had. after poking and prodding around in my mouth for a few minutes and taking a scan for good measure she gave me a look and said dryly, 'you haven't been flossing at all, have you.'

disappointing your parents, your favorite high school english teacher, or even your best friend is nothing compared to the sheer embarrassment that comes from knowing your beautiful dentist asked you to do the bare minimum, and you failed to deliver. her voice was arid but we had known each other for long enough by then for me to detect a thin undercurrent of disappointment. i had done it. i had lost the support of the only person in my life who could be counted on to support me. because i paid her for her services. and she was also very funny in a quiet sarcastic way. and she was beautiful.

having had my ego wounded beyond description i resolved to floss from then on and succeeded in dragging my poor aching gums past the bleeding stage to a point where they were merely post-workout sore. then i lost interest and forgot about the white, sterile-smelling clinic that was a fifteen minutes' drive from my house and the little pack of dental floss on the bathroom counter faded into obscurity. two weeks before my next appointment in 2020, an alarm on my phone went off to inform me of the approaching day of judgment. i panicked.

'have you been flossing?' my dentist asked as i lay back in the faded green chair and she put on a pair of new gloves.

'yeah,' i said.

five minutes later, she removed her army of dentistry equipment from my mouth with a satisfied hum. 'i see that you have.' her eyes were smiling. 'your teeth look fine. i'll just clean them a little for you.'

i celebrated impressing my favorite dentistry professional in singapore by forgetting to floss for the next two months. soon after that i got on a plane to america, and then two more for good measure in case i hadn't grown sick of sitting and burning in my own skin already, and then twelve weeks of insanity ensued, the details of which we are surely all acquainted with by now. late nights, walks in the forest, afternoons spent in the sun. mismatched footsteps and strange acquaintances. an elaborate circus act staffed entirely by misguided but well-meaning teenagers. a ring of fire.

two weeks ago i bought a box of dental floss for ninety-nine cents. i think this might be what the anthropologists call 'adulthood'. i was at target with a friend and we were getting toothpaste, which we had both nearly run out of, when i saw the little flat box of dental floss hanging from a hook on the wall. my teeth weren't particularly disgusting (they haven't been, not since i learned how to brush them properly), but they weren't beautiful. it had been a while since i had been on my own mind. for the last three months, others' pain had been my main priority, and now that we had eliminated most of them from the picture, i found myself with more time in the mornings to stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how, exactly, i was doing.

how are you doing? i asked. and the answer was i felt like shit.

while i've stayed in dormitories before for extended periods of time i always got out of doing laundry by either submitting my dirty clothes to an on-campus service which disappeared them into a hole in the fabric of reality and returned them to you a day later, cleaned and folded outside your room so the first time i did laundry by myself in america, a week after arriving on campus, i felt invincible. buying an iced chai from the cafe on a thursday morning and then settling down to work on my laptop until my first class started at noon, i felt like a character in a career advisory ad, like someone who knew where they were going and how they were going to get there. standing in front of the bathroom mirror of my summer dorm, winding a strand of dental floss around my fingers, i felt like i had aged fifteen years in the span of just one, and that just this once, it was for the better.

according to my adult friends, no one ever fully feels or recognizes that they are an adult. adulthood is an ideal that all grown children strive towards the way body-builders aim for more and more muscle mass until there's nothing left of them but a pair of well-toned biceps. there are several industry-approved ways to be an adult, but there are no suggested ways to feel like one. this is part of the gaping maw of inadequacy our generation has fallen into. this afternoon i melted butter in a pan and beat two eggs, milk, salt, and garlic powder together in a bowl. pouring the egg mixture into the pan i began to scrape the edges frantically towards the center with a spatula. the whole process took no longer than two or three minutes. by the end of it my hand was shaking.

according to my adult friends you just wake up one day and start looking for ways to re-organize your pantry and that's when you realize: i'm getting old, aren't i? and i'm getting old, aren't i? twenty's just the start of what a friend recently told me her parents refer to as 'the decade of pain'. but the beginning of something is included in the timeline of its accomplishments, too, and it takes more blind faith to start something than we give ourselves credit for. i have never used a saucepan up until today. in my younger years i often boiled broccoli or cauliflower in a small pot over an electric stove. but the butter, the eggs, the smell of fat sizzling on a pan- this is new to me. this entire life is new to me.

leaving the familiar warmth of your family home, it suddenly occurs to you how fragile life is. how everything your mother has done for you until now has kept you on the path forward, and now you have been given the keys to the basement you have to remember to buy laundry detergent before you run out. it all comes together like this: the humming laundry machines, the hand towels, the fridge full of fruit and cheese. it keeps you alive.

and it's awful. our generation doesn't know what self-care is because we're too busy trying to care for a world which tries, time and again, to kick us off the carousel of life and move on without its ephemeral teenage charges. we are bad at this 'living' thing because we often forget that we are alive at all. look out the window and the world's burning. look into the kitchen, and- quiet. this past year has done nothing to improve the paintings on the wall. we've all known hopelessness. we've all known what it's like to wake up and feel nothing at all.

and yet my flatmate has a new york times cooking subscription that she says we're welcome to borrow if we want to look up a recipe for something like paella, brownies, whatever. the other day she made shrimp scampi and when she knocked on my door and said 'i made food, if you'd like some' i remember thinking living with other people was worth it if you could sit around a table and twirl pasta noodles around your fork in silence. tomorrow i think i'll go to target again and see if i can find more acai. i miss it. i miss singapore's overpriced acai places and their stupid too-high chairs.

and i am living life clumsily, but who cares? a life is a life; all you have to do is live it. the rest can come later, after the dust has settled on the windowsill.

06.09.21

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myluciferiscody · 4 years

Text

i loved you first p.4

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 2,332

warnings: violence, language, fluff, oops

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

Your life seemed to flash before your eyes.

Chloe Smith was in tears; her red hair matted while her makeup from the night before smeared under her eyes. You had never seen her look like this. She was always fabulous. You'd admit it now, even knowing she was crazy.

"Chloe..." Xavier said softly, his hands slowly rising as she continued to cry with her eyes on you. Your eyes fell to the gun hanging by her side, her finger fiddling with the gun. She was going to cock it eventually.

"Sit down!" she shot at you, and you didn't hesitate to take the spot next to Xavier. You realized you should have stayed away from him, but Chloe didn't comment, only raising the gun at the both of you.

"You don't have to do this," Xavier said, his voice hesitant. You knew he was trying not to cry, and you were right there with him. "This isn't worth it."

"You're worth it!" she yelled, pointing her gun directly at him now. "You're worth it, Xavier." she cried, her voice wobbly. You had never heard anything like this in your life. This all had to be a really fucked up dream.

You knew it was probably best to keep your mouth shut. Chloe hated you; you didn't want to push her any farther and risk putting Xavier in any more danger than he already was.

Your thoughts were overshadowed when Chloe turned her attention back to you, her voice venomous when she asked, "What do you have that I don't?"

I'm not psychotic, clearly.

You instinctively snickered at that, which was a huge mistake. You watched as Chloe's eyes went dark before moving the gun just inches from your face and fired.

You and Xavier both yelled; he grabbed you and pulled you down as the bullet whizzed right by, almost hitting your ear. Your heart was now in overdrive as Xavier took this opportunity to rush forward and tackle her to the ground. You screamed as they wrestled, desperately looking for a phone to dial 9-1-1.

You hoped that a neighbor would call the police. You weren't particularly close with them, but you were friendly enough to keep an eye on one another. You started to cry when you realized your phone was dead, and you didn't know where Xavier's was.

There was no way you could sit back and watch this unfold. Chloe was screaming, cursing your name as Xavier wrestled the gun away from her. You looked around for something heavy, figuring this could be your Paul Sheldon moment.

You spotted an ugly vase that Xavier's mother had gifted you when you moved in together. It always sat underneath the accent table, collecting dust. You snatched it, looking to see that Xavier was somewhat able to pin down Chloe. But the struggle for the gun was still ensuing. Your ears rang as another shot went off, striking the lamp your grandmother bought you.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt him accidentally. You lunged for the pair, catching Xavier's eye last minute as he fell off her, falling to the ground. You smashed the vase against Chloe's head. A cry escaped your lips when a jagged piece broke the skin of your palm. Chloe shrieked, before falling unconscious.

You gasped, falling to your knees as Xavier wheezed on the ground. You glanced down at the now bloody head of Chloe, who was still breathing.

"That fucking bitch!" Xavier snapped, sitting up. You watched as he grabbed the gun, switching on the safety. "We need to call the police."

"I-I couldn't find your phone," you said shakily, stumbling to your feet, your eyes still on her unconscious body.

Xavier had to dig underneath the cushions, but he found it. There was just enough battery to report the incident, and he stayed on the line as you both moved far away from her, almost sitting on top of each other in the corner.

Your chest felt like it was on fire. The tears wouldn't stop as you hung onto Xavier, who gently shushed you while he spoke to the operator. You wanted Montana, you wanted Brooke.

You were so shaken up that the panicked knocking on the door caused you to shriek. The operator on the phone was worried, as Xavier got up to investigate, before letting out a "fuck!"

"XAVIER! Y/N! IT'S ME, IT'S CHET AND MONTANA! OPEN UP!"

Xavier wrenched open the door, explaining to the operator that you were still waiting on the police.

"We already called the police, they're not here yet!?" Montana yelled, rushing past the boys to where you were cowering in the corner. "Chet was outside when he saw Chloe arrive and called them."

She brought you into a hug as you hid your face in her neck, wishing for all of this to stop. You heard Xavier ask why Chet was outside, in which he replied, "Because I'm not dumb, I knew the bitch would be back."

You always adored that Chet was so protective of your friends. You had to smile, feeling your heart lift slightly as Montana held you tightly, shielding your face from Chloe.

It seemed like an eternity when the police and ambulance finally arrived. Ray ended up showing up sometime later while you were outside, claiming that Brooke was stuck at work and wished she could be here.

You watched with your friends as Chloe was wheeled out on a stretcher; her hands cuffed as they loaded her into the ambulance. Your debacle caused some attention, as concerned neighbors and strangers gathered around. You slowly started to feel better, but the fear of almost being killed kept creeping on you. The paramedics cleaned up your wound and bandaged it.

Because your apartment was now an active crime scene, you and Xavier were forced to room with Montana and Brooke at their residence. You had gathered your things before riding over with Xavier in the back seat; his grip on you was still tight.

You were pleased when Ray and Chet came over later that night with packed bags. They insisted on the group being together for support. You had hugged your friends more in the past few hours than you have all year. You knew they were as equally scared as you were, while simultaneously trying to ease your stress.

That night after everyone settled into bed, you were restless. It was well past three in the morning, your boss already notified about what transpired and you needed some time off. Xavier was in the bathroom, almost begging his boss to give him some time, too.

You waited until he finally came out, visibly lighter as he crawled down next to you, peeking to see if you were awake. The unexpected action caused you to snort, and he smiled at your laugh.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he whispered, settling down beside you. "My boss finally cut me some slack for once in his life."

"I think you should just quit, they don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Trust me, I've been telling myself that the day I started," he joked, and you felt hopeful that things could be normal again. "y/n, I just wanted to let you know that you saved our lives today."

You frowned, shaking your head, "You had her pinned to the ground. If anything, you're the hero."

Xavier shook his head, scoffing, "Don't be ridiculous, you knocked the crack-whore out."

You cackled at that, hiding your face in the blankets as Xavier's blue eyes widened, playfully shushing you as Ray snorted in his sleep a few feet away. "Keep it down!"

"Then don't make me laugh!" you seethed, yet your tone was playful. "You should know by now that you make me laugh without trying."

Xavier beamed at that, settling down to lay beside you. He was delighted to hear that, now smiling like an idiot at your compliment. You moved closer, putting your head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you.

"I don't mean to make light of the situation," Xavier said softly, starting to run his hands through your hair. You closed your eyes in peace. "But I'm glad we were with each other today. I could never live with myself if something happened to you because of me."

"I need you to stop blaming yourself," you scolded. Xavier's face flushed, and he was staring at the ceiling with a hurt expression you couldn't see. "I told this to the others, and I'll say it to you. You didn't know. Montana..." you smiled, "She has a suspicious nature, and she's right ninety percent of the time. Montana had an equal hand in this."

"I should have known, though," Xavier said, frowning. "I was her boyfriend. I was going to move in with her!"

You smirked, "They say you don't really know a person until you live with them. Or something like that."

Xavier finally smiled at you, "Something like that?"

"Yes. That's what my mom said when I told her we were living together."

"Huh," Xavier said, his hands still running through your hair. "Your mom is a wise woman."

"Of course she is, why do you think I'm the way I am, hmm?" you joked.

"I guess that would explain a lot," he said softly. You laid there, your head still on his chest as you listened to the sound of his beating heart.

In mere seconds he could have been taken away from you.

You didn't realize your nails dug into his chest until he winced, "Ouch, y/n?"

You gasped, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Xavier." you said, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hurt him.

"It's alright," he said, before placing his hand over yours. "I'll be here when you wake-up."

You tried to fall asleep then, but images of Chloe holding a gun in your face was a plague. Xavier was still awake, staring at the ceiling as he stroked your hair. He could feel your wildly beating heart, and he wished there was something he could do.

Xavier was always the strong one of the group. You could always lean on him whenever you needed, even if he was struggling with something himself. But he wanted to save everybody, even though he knew it was impossible. His own past haunted him, and this was just the newest addition.

The clock slowly ticked towards five in the morning, and you were still unable to find peace. You eventually sat up, Xavier's arm falling to the side as you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

"y/n?" he asked, sitting up beside you. You gave him a weak smile, which he frowned. "Do you need me to call someone?"

You shook your head, "I just think sleep is off the table for us tonight."

He laughed quietly, looking around the dark room to see Montana hanging partially off the couch. Brooke was right on the floor beneath her, her legs over Ray's stomach, snoring.

"I feel safe with everyone here," you admitted, glancing at Chet, who was curled up with a pillow. "I always felt safe with you guys."

"Me too," he admitted, taking your hand. "I know I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life. I always felt like I wasn't supposed to be here, you know?" Your heart hurt hearing that. "I got myself in so much bad shit, and I guess I still do that. But I'd always find my way back... I had my friends. I have you."

You wiped at your eyes, knowing Xavier hated to see you cry. "You've always had me." you laughed weakly.

"I wish I would have stopped being so stupid-."

"Are you kidding?" you laughed now, a little too loudly, you may add. "You just told me last night you were always flirting with me! You're the clueless one? Please."

Xavier gave you a smirk, and you reached up to pat down his messy hair. His blue eyes were bright in the night, and you knew you'd always be able to get lost in them.

"Do you think it would be inappropriate if I kissed you?" Xavier asked, tilting his head at you playfully. You blushed deeply, thinking of all the times you dreamed of this happening.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to rush into anything with me..." you admitted, smiling shyly at him.

Xavier nodded understandingly, "I normally would say that too. But today was an example that we're not promised anything, y/n. I don't want to waste any more time with you than I've already had."

You couldn't believe this was happening. After a silent agreement, Xavier leaned in, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. It was better than you ever imagined, your hands gently twisting in his hair as his arm slid around your waist, pulling you in tight. Xavier kissed you until you couldn't breathe, pulling away with a satisfied smirk.

"That was amazing." he grinned, keeping his arm around you as you smiled back.

"I know, thank you." you joked before you were startled out of your wits when you heard Montana mumble into her pillow, "Oh, thank God they finally kissed."

Your mouth fell open when Brooke tiredly said, "About time!"

"You guys heard them kiss? Gross!" Ray slurred.

"Were you guys listening this entire time!?" Xavier yelled, your shock finally wearing off as you laughed loudly, hiding your head under your blanket.

"Only the last few minutes," Montana said, turning over. "Thank fuck, you guys were driving us all crazy, not dating each other."

"You guys are the worst!" you cried out as Xavier laid beside you, a broad grin on his face.

"But you love us, y/n," Brooke giggled softly, "Goodnight."

You and Xavier finally fell asleep minutes after your friends fell back asleep. Chet stirred, peeking at you guys from his thick pillow. He smiled before laying back down to sleep.

taglist: some tags still aren’t working :(

@the-walking-daryl @trichy-knitts @shydragonrider @thefandomzoneisdangerous @lemonwhiskers @jetblackpayne @langdonsvcrd @okoktrinity22 @uwonman @stefanmikaleson1864 @sevenwonderwitch @rubbrninja @iamnotjesha @leatherduncan @imshakingandcryingrn @bratzblitz @goblackcat69 @brookethompsonownsme @bookoffracturedescapes @zodiyack @bitchchatter @guiltyfiend @psychobitchtess @aangrana @thexmancometh @wtfcas @pleasforhelp @capshoney @agentnightshade44 @frenchlangdon @morganelizabeth-paige-blog @fathoe69333 @infagnito @felicityofbakerstreet @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @arthurismybby @fandoms-allovertheplace @welcometothelioncage @mysteryartisticwriter

#xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton imagine #michael langdon x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #montana duke #ray powell #chet clancy #brooke thompson #ahs imagine #ahs 1984 #cody fern

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quakywakey · 3 years

Text

Titans 2x05 Gar and Rachel Rewrite

(A bit of context:

I’ve had the idea of doing a Titans season 2 rewrite and this is something that’s spawned out that. It’s Gar and Rachel’s argument from episode 5 but with some touch ups here and there, the main one being a new context.

At the end of episode 1 Kori goes with Dick to help him train the new Titans. After deathstroke finds out about the Titan’s revival, he sends his daughter Rose Wilson {Aka Ravager} to break into the tower and see what they can do. She is captured by the team and kept in a cell within the tower for interrogation. Dick is especially paranoid about Deathstroke due to the Titans history with the Terminator and begins training the kids non-stop. Jason Todd talks to Rose and is able to get the location of Slade’s base. After an incident where Rachel loses control and nearly kills Jason, Gar goes to check on him. Jason tells Gar about the intel he dug up from Rose and Gar has the idea for him and Jason to sneak out there and take on Dr Light. The two face Dr Light and take him down relatively easily, but just when they think the fight is over, a smoke bomb erupts and Jason is taken by Deathstroke. Gar returns to the tower in a panic to find Rachel injured but breathing and Rose gone.)

Rachel eyes slid open like a slow garage door as the dim orange of the room lights lit her vision. She looked around slowly scanning the area, broken glass, flipped tables, the Titans common room was not looking its best to say the least. Her eyes still a fog of colour, but she noticed what looked to be a person with a familiar shade of green hair. “G-gar?” She tried to sit herself up only to be shot with an awful throbbing on her head and side.

“Take it easy, Rach.” He said, “You got hit pretty bad.” she ran her head across her forehead, finding a bandage. He slid a small bowl across the table, “I made soup. It’s not much but it sure as hell beats cauliflower pizza.” She slowly tired to push herself up, gritting her teeth. Gar rushed around to support her as she made the ninety degree tilt. Grabbing the accompanying spoon she went to get a small amount to taste, “Don’t worry, I made sure it was tongue-burn proof.”

“Greatly appreciated.” She took a spoonful of the soup, “This is really nice, you’re not that bad of a cook.” She looked at her other arm, which was clenched to her waist, she took notice of the tight bandage and she could feel the stitches underneath it. “And not that bad of a nurse either.”

“Learnt from the best. Larry is an amazing chef, he’s good with bandages too.”

She lightly chuckled before recoiling back from the pain laughing inflicted on her waist. “You didn’t get too scared did you? When you found me half dead on the floor?”

“More scared of the blood than I was for you. You’ve survived worse.” He replied with a smirk.

“Gee thanks.” She replied sarcastically, the pair chuckled. “Where were you?” She asked, “I couldn’t find you or Jason last night.” She asked, quickly recalling her small search for the boys before Rose’s blade gashed her side during her escape.

“Well, you know that signature I found? I took Jason there to get the drop on Dr Light. Jason needed a win after yesterday, obviously that turned into a major loss.”

“On your own?” She exclaimed, ready to chastise him, only stopping when she realised he had already suffered a lecture from Dick. “What about Jason? I was expecting that wiseass to have something to say.” She returned to a more stoic tone of voice.

“Jason... Jason is missing.” He lowered his head in shame. “He was taken by Deathstroke and we haven’t found him.”

“Oh shit.” She displayed an uncharacteristic level of concern for Robin. Rachel glanced over to Gar’s wrist, noticing a scratch mark not unlike the one she had on her back. He quickly pulled down his sleeve over the wound. “Gar what was that?” She spoke with urgency.

“It’s nothing... -it’s fine.” It wasn’t nothing, nor was it fine, but he didn’t feel right trying to push a confrontation with Rachel right now, as much as he may want to.

“Gar.” She persisted, “Tell me.” Gar paused for a moment, the itch to confront her was becoming unbearable and her indirect invitation only irritated it more and more. He finally spoke.

“How long has it been happening?” He said, his voice edging between a whisper and regular speech.

“Has what been happening?” She pretended to not know.

“You know exactly what I mean.” He got slightly louder. Rachel paused, her lack of words exuding guilt. “Care to explain why this scary tentacle thing erupted from your hand and cut me?”

“I-i’m sorry...”

“Rachel, why haven’t you been honest with me? About your powers.”

“...And you’re a paragon of truth?” She retorted with a deadpan voice. “It’s not my fault Jason is missing and I nearly went postal.”

“Are you saying it’s mine?”

“I didn’t say that.” She rolled her eyes, diverting her gaze away from him.

“Then what’s the face for?”

“...It’s nothing.” She continued to break eye contact.

“What?” He exclaimed as more of a statement than a question.

She then looked him dead in the eye. “I understand, why you didn’t tell Dick about your little plan, but you could’ve come to me.”

“Rach-”

“Because you decided to sneak off and play hero, I was horribly outmatched when Rose escaped. If you were planning to go, for fuck sake you could’ve at least told me! I could’ve helped if you didn’t keep it a secret.”

“How? You can’t even control yourself!”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I saw you yesterday at the training room. You couldn’t bring it back in. Dammit, Rachel you nearly killed Jason! Not to mention your creepy black cloud of razor blades that nearly took my hand off. I least now I know where you got those marks on your back”

“Oh, so you’re spying on me now?”

“I’m not spying on you, I saw it when we were sparring. Don’t come at me about keeping secrets.”

Rachel stood up in spite of the physical pain it caused. “First of all, my powers are fine. If I had been there, the guy wouldn’t know up from down and Jason would be home safe and sound to make more stupid decisions with you. What did you do, Gar? Did you growl at him, was he real scared? If you and Jason hadn’t been so stupid and thought it through, then none of this would’ve happened-”

“Screw you!” His eyes turned from a calming hazel to an acidic green, the match inside him sparking into a flame before simmering back. He saw the mix of fear, anger and sadness in her face. “Rachel I...” His speech tapered, “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry I-”. She said nothing, just slowly walked off to the computer room, holding her side.

Gar slumped to the floor, head in his palms, staring at the bowl of soup he made, going cold. “I’m such an Idiot.”

#Gar Logan #garfield logan #Rachel Roth #raven #raven roth #beast boy #beastboy #Teen Titans #teentitans #dc titans #titans #titans season 2 rewrite #bbrae #garachel #give gar a hug #Rachel also need a hug #angst #even more angst #with a side of angst

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sebthesnipe · 3 years

Text

A Very Patton Christmas

Other works by me (AO3)

Tumblr Master Post

To @gilby-the-geek-girl for being the best friend a person could ask for. For without whom my writing would be riddled with errors and inconsistency, and whose gift of friendship has been the greatest thing to happen to me in a very long time. While I know you’ve read this (cuz you beta for me like the boss bitch you are) I still hope that you know that it was written with love for you. (I really don’t have time to write for anyone else XP) One day I hope you’ll have a friend at least half as good as you are (because we both no I ain’t it XP) I hope your Hanukkah wasn’t a miserable one and that you Christmas is the highlight of your 2020 (because we both know there isn’t much competition). Prompt: Explain why Patton’s Sweater this year is so damn ugly.

Patton shifted under the mountainous pile of blankets atop him. It was early, or rather… late? He hadn’t really slept. How could he?! His favorite day of the year was here! Well, it would be.

He shifted again, this time wiggling towards where he thought one of the blankets ended and poked his head out to look at his frog shaped Wisoee alarm clock. Its dim light smiled at him reading 3:37 AM.

He held back a squeal as he ducked back into this warm cave of comforters. He couldn’t watch the clock.

A watched pot never boils,he reminded himself.

He went over the day’s schedule in his head:

Logan would already be awake and emerge at precisely 4:00 AM, as he always did. Today though, was the only day out of the year the Logan broke his (otherwise) usual routine.

Logan would skip his usual jog, replacing his gray sweats for the pajamas Patton had bought him for his birthday (a blue plaid pair of pants and a grey tee with the text ‘Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Vote.’ printed on the front) At which point, he would make his way to the kitchen where he would start a pot of coffee for himself, Virgil, and Janus.

That would be where Patton, came in!

Patton would already be in the kitchen to start his homemade hot chocolate for himself, Roman, and Remus (With Logan’s help of course. He didn’t want another incident like the baking fiasco from a few months ago).

By the time they finished, Roman would be up, no doubt singing everyone into wakefulness. Then it would be time for hot cocoa and presents!

Patton got them all Christmas sweaters just like he did every year! He loved picking them out for each of his friends and watching them all spread out in the living room, all snug and cozy to watch their usual Christmas movie marathon!

They always let Patton pick the first movie, but there were so many good ones he usually couldn’t choose! Logan would probably chime in with the Nutcracker, not because he was a fan but because it was the only Christmas movie Roman and Remus agreed on, making it the popular choice.

Then it would be Logan’s actual turn. He usually chose The Polar Express. Patton was pretty sure he only chose it because there were really only two Christmas movies based on books and Janus always chose A Christmas Carol. That and because Patton really liked it!

Then came Janus and finally Virgil, who was Jewish and didn’t have personal stock in Christmas, but participated for the others (which was another reason he was Patton’s favorite ,not that he’d ever admit it). Virgil always wanted to watch Die Hard, but knew Patton didn’t care for the violence much, so he usually settled for Rudolf, which warmed the fatherly figure’s heart to no end (Which was probably why Patton had bought him the collector’s edition box set of the movie). During the previous year’s viewing of the movie Virgil and Logan ended up in a discussion regarding how the song Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer was (according to Virgil) one of the only times a big corporation did what was right. Patton usually tried to follow this kind of discussion, but he usually got lost when Logan started in about percentages and underpaid artists. It just really hurt his little heart to know so many talented people out there were struggling.

The movies, as a matter of fact, were why Patton chose the sweaters he did for them this year! Each of his friends would be gifted a sweater to mirror each of their favorite Christmas movies! (Die Hard being the exception of course!)

After all that, the group would settle in for-

The alarm clock croaked loudly, signaling the arrival of 3:45 AM.

Patton’s previous thoughts evaporated into excitement as he attempted scramble from the mass of comforters, reaching to shut off the alarm.

His leg tangled in one of the large downeys and he hit the ground with a heavy thud. He paid no mind to his bruised ribs as he wrestled himself from its grasp, smacking the flashing frog to silence it.

A moment later he threw open his door, intent for the stairs.

He never made it though. At least, not at first…

Something was off.

He paused in the hallway, skin prickling at the coolness of the air.

He had only made it a few feet when he noticed it.

Roman’s door was ajar, the dark shadows of his messy room an indication of his absence…

Remus’ too. Though it was only slightly. Patton noticed the smell more than the sight.

Was everyone up before him?

He moved towards Virgil’s room, giving a soft knock before shouldering open the door.

“Hey, Kiddo. You up?” He whispered softly before noticing the unmade empty bed.

“And what would you know?!” the ‘kiddo’-in-question’s voice came in a harsh snap, drifting up from the living room.

“Keep your voice down!” Janus’ own snapped back, matching Virgil’s volume though the tone was a mock attempt at a whisper in his tone.

Patton inched closer, concern playing on his features as he flattened himself against the wall at the top of the stairs. He certainly didn’t want to intrude on his friends’ conversation, but there was obviously something was wrong.

“Bite me, snake boy!” Virgil snapped in return, though his voice was lowered.

“Don’t tempt me,” Janus hissed.

“Wait! Let me get the camera! Pics or it didn’t happen!” Remus’ voice came in a giddy giggle. “Okay, make sure you draw blood.”

“Gross,” Virgil huffed, heat gone.

“As much as I hate to admit it, Stormcloud, I think Ser Lies-a-lot is right,” Roman sighed softly.

“You can’t be serious!” Virgil grumbled.

“I believe he is,” Logan’s calm voice interrupted. “Statistically speaking, twenty three percent of christmas gifts in America in a given year are unwanted but kept.”

“That’s reassuring,” Virgil growled.

“I wasn’t finished,” Logan retorted. “Given that statistic, along with the fact that individuals are more likely to gift items they like themselves, and factoring in the number of gifts we’ve received over the years. That paired with the fact that it was commissioned from an independent artist, supporting their work directly: I would say that there is a ninety-two point six five present chance that Patton will find the gift quite adequate.”

“Did you really just do all that in your head?” Janus asked curiously.

“Actually, no,” Logan admitted. “I calculated the odds when the idea was brought up months ago, as I do with each of your christmas gifts.”

“Is that why I got socks last year?” Remus chirped.

“Yes, well… I found that the other options would cause unease with the others,” Logan clarified.

“Boring!”

“Don’t worry Remus, he didn’t get you a dissection kit this year to make up for it,” Janus commented sarcastically.

“What?!” Roman spat as Remus gasped excitedly.

“I’m not even sure how you know that,” Logan sighed, probably straightening his glasses like he usually did when something annoyed him. “And I’m not sure I care to know.”

“We’re getting side tracked. He’ll be up any minute,” Virgil interrupted once more. “The fact is, it’s one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen and it’s too late not to give it to him.”

“I like it!” Remus argued.

“See!” Virgil huffed, using Remus’ opinion as evidence to the validity of his statement.

“Ugh, maybe he has a point Teach,” Roman agreed. “I could put together a card for us to sign instead?”

“No, it’s too late for that, beside I am certain this is all an overstated concern.” Logan countered.

“Perhaps, a vote wouldn’t be appropriate?” Janus offered.

“I agree, all in favor of giving Patton the gift we already agreed upon?” Logan asked.

There was silence as Patton assumed a few of the boys raised their hands.

“All opposed?” He continued.

“Remus you can’t vote twice!” Roman snapped.

“You’re no fun!” Remus whined. “I’ll stick with J-anus then!”

“Please, continue to call me that. I just love it,” Janus deadpanned.

“The ayes have it then,” Logan decided.

“What eyes?” Remus chirped excitedly, but no one paid him any mind.

“Roman, if you would be so kind as to finish wrapping the gift, I have a pot of coffee to finish,” Logan dismissed.

“I have some extra ribbon in my room. Want to help, Stormcloud?” Roman asked, making Patton tense as they headed his way.

He didn’t wait for V to answer as Patton hurried back to his room and closed the door softly behind him.

He really shouldn’t have eavesdropped.

Guilt filled him as he leaned against the frame, processing everything that had been said.

The group had never agreed on a gift for Patton. Usually Logan and Roman were the only two to get him anything and they just included the others’ names on the presents (not that Patton ever called them out on it. Why would he?). Patton didn’t mind of course, he knew they had trouble buying for him.

Logan usually got him a new hoodie or something practical like a flamingo pen, or oven mitts (though those usually only lasted about a week before Patton caught them on fire or melted them!). Roman always made him something, like the card he had mentioned, and just had the others sign it. Patton didn’t mind of course, he loved everything they gave him. It was the thought that warmed him! Even the fact that Remus refrained from his usual off the wall habits to try and make Patton more comfortable meant the world to him.

The fact that the group was so torn over his opinion broke his heart. How could they think that? What had he done to put that doubt in their mind? He had to do better! Whatever it was, he would show he loved it more than anything they had ever gotten him before.

His brows furrowed in determination.

This would be their year!

He took a moment to gather himself before plastering on a smile and throwing open the door once more, running straight into a surprised Logan.

Logan gave a small grunt as Patton bumped him, the mug of hot cocoa sloshing over and onto his hand.

“Oh goodness!” Patton gasped in shock, “I’m so sorry Lo’! Are you alright?” The smaller man hurriedly took the mug from his friend’s hand and set it on the small table next to the door, frantically searching for something to clean up the mess.

“I’m fine, Patton,” Logan reassured, producing a blue handkerchief from his pant pocket and wiping the warm liquid off his hand. Leave it to Logan to have his handkerchief with him despite wearing pajamas. “I made sure the liquid was at an acceptable temperature for this exact reason.”

“Oh! I hope I didn’t ruin your new PJs!” Patton cried, already pushing Logan’s arms up to examine the flannel.

There wasn’t a stain to be found. Logan arched a brow as he waited for Patton to satisfy his need for the inspection before sighing.

“Truly, Patton, I’m fine. Are you?” Logan asked, his neutral expression turning to one of concern.

“What?” Patton hummed, glancing up to meet the taller man’s eyes. “Of course! I wasn’t the one holding the cup!”

“I wasn’t referring to the cocoa,” Logan pointed out, lowering his arms. “It’s 4:17. It isn’t like you to be so unpunctual on Christmas day.”

“Oh…” Patton whispered, lowering his gaze in shame. Should he tell him? It wasn’t right to keep secrets. Would he be upset if he found out Patton had been eavesdropping? No… Today was their day… He wouldn’t do anything to upset them. “No. I’m fine!” Patton reassured, suddenly as chipper as ever as he offered out a smile.

Logan eyed him suspiciously, but seemed to wearily accept the answer.

“Well, I thought your traditional cup of cocoa would help if anything were amiss,” Logan nodded towards the cup, bringing Patton’s attention to it once more.

Logan had made it without him?

Patton could feel the mask around his heart start to crack a little as his stomach sank. He supposed it made sense that Logan wouldn’t really need him to make it… Still, that was Patton and Logan’s Christmas tradition… It hurt that he had been left out of it.

“Aw! Thank you Logan!” Patton forced out in his preening voice as if nothing was wrong.

This was their day, not his.

“That’s so sweet!” He added, collecting the mug and taking a small sip. Somehow it didn’t taste as good as it usually did.

“You’re very welcome, Patton,” Logan replied with a small tilt of his lips.

His crooked smile also seemed to soften his features; Patton loved that about him. It made his sudden disappointment worth it.

“I know we usually have a schedule for the holiday, but…” Logan paused as if he were nervous. What an odd look for the scholar. “Well, the others requested a change in plans.”

Patton’s heart sank. What kind of change? Did they not like the way they usually celebrated Christmas? Why hadn’t they told him? Was his idea of Christmas really so one sided? How had he not noticed this before? Was that why Logan was so nervous?

No… It didn’t matter. This was their day, not his.

“What kind of change, kiddo? I’m sure whatever it is will be great! It’s Christmas after all!” Patton responded, despite the way his stomach knotted.

“Well,” Logan began, stepping aside. “Perhaps it would be best if they explained it.”

Patton hesitated before nodding taking the lead as they walked down the hall. What if they didn’t want to do hot cocoa and movies any more? What if they didn’t want to celebrate Christmas at all?! Was that why they came together for a gift? To appease Patton? They were all getting older and it wasn’t as if they had children. Maybe they felt like Christmas wasn’t for adults…

That was ridiculous, Patton knew that. But still…

He headed down the stairs, a smile still glued to his lips as he caught sight of Remus and Janus whispering over a small box.

“I told you, it's for you!” Janus hissed at the mustached man next to him, fending him off the plain white box in his hands.

“I helped pick them out! I should be allowed first dib-” Remus cut himself off as Janus elbowed him in the ribs pulling his attention up to Patton, just as he took the last step on the landing.

“I didn’t lick them, I swear!” Remus called out, smiling broadly in his stained Oscar the Grouch onesie. “Okay maybe a few.”

Janus rolled his eyes, dressed in his usual suit and hat, not bothering with a comment.

“Good Morning, Patton, slept horribly I hope?” Janus asked pleasantly.

“Hey, kiddos. You’re up early,” Patton offered, feeling more uneasy than ever; something that must have shown because at that moment Logan leaned down to whisper in the smaller man’s ear.

“Are you sure you are alright Patton?” he asked softly. “If you’re not feeling well then perhaps you should rest. I’m sure we can put this off unti-”

“Hola, Padre!” Roman’s voice came, cutting off Logan’s words.

Patton glanced up at the two figures standing at the top of the stairs. Roman, straight backed, hands behind him as he stood tall in his prince pajamas; Virgil behind him, using him to practically hide his small form, dressed in his Jack Skeleton onesie.

“Roman, Virgil! You’re up already! This is a surprise!” Patton feigned excitement.

“Definitely a Christmas miracle,” Janus sighed.

No one paid the comment any mind as Roman hurried down the stairs. Grin wide.

“Well this is a special day, Padre!” Roman explained as Virgil followed after, rolling his eyes.

“Bah-Humbug,” the black and white clad man grumbled in response. Though it may have been Patton’s imagination, but Virgil's eyeshadow looked a few shades lighter than usual.

“Feliz Navidad Patton! Merry Christmas!”Roman sang, producing the present from behind his back and offering it out.

Patton’s heart skipped a beat, hesitating as he glanced around the room at each of his friends. They all looked so nervous… Even Janus.

His attention went back to the gift being presented. It was a decent sized package with rainbow wrapping paper, black and white striped ribbon, and a green and blue bow that sat just above a small yellow tag that read ‘To: Janus From: Patton’.

Despite Patton’s dread and apprehension, he couldn’t help but smile at the packaging. They had even come together on the wrapping. It was very sweet.

He glanced up at Roman who nodded eagerly, indicating that Patton was welcome to it.

“You guys! You didn’t have to do all this!” He whispered in awe, voice cracking as tears began filling his eyes.

No matter what happened, Patton was awed by the fact that the boys went to so much trouble for him. They had come together for him. It didn’t matter if they were too old for Christmas!

He tugged at the ribbon, finding it firmly in place, before turning it over and trying again. After flipping it once more he heard Logan give a small chuckle.

“May I?” his soft calm voice came. Patton nodded, handing over the package to Logan and wiping away a tear he felt rolling down his cheek.

Logan’s nimble fingers loosened the bow and the surrounding ribbon, careful not to ruin them (he knew Patton loved to keep them and hang them above his mirror to admire later). Logan set the ribbon aside before handing the package back to the smaller man.

“Thank you,” Patton murmured weakly, gently tearing the wrapping to slide the sleek white box from inside.

“This is worse than waiting for a magnet you swallowed to come out the other end!” Remus chimed in excitedly.

“Ugh! Does he really have to be here?!” Roman whined, causing Patton’s grin to turn genuine.

The momentary distraction had him feeling a bit better as he slid a nail under the lid of the box, breaking the tape there and pulling open the lid.

Wrapped loosely in a thin tissue paper lay a DVD copy of The Shop Around the Corner, a mug that, when you sip it, makes the drinker look like the bottom half of their face belongs to a puppy, and some kind of knitted fabric.

“Ah! You guys!!!” Patton squealed, tears beginning to fall as he collected the mug and movie, setting them aside and pulling out the sweater to get a better look at it.

The light blue knitted midsection was covered in what, he assumed, was supposed to be some kind of icing pattern? Or perhaps whipped cream? Lace? He wasn’t sure. There was also a brown bow tie that was maybe supposed to be chocolate? Down the center was a line of pink chocolate chip cookie buttons. The bright pink sleeves had much of the same design though instead of pink cookies they were light blue.

It may have been the ugliest excuse of a sweater Patton had ever seen.

Silence fell in the rooms everyone waited for Patton’s reaction.

“We know it’s not as good as the ones you get us,” Virgil chimed in nervously. “But we thought that maybe you’d like one of your own?”

“The mug, of course, is so you won’t have to make so many trips for more cocoa,” Logan added with a soft smile. “I thought the others would like to help us make the rest after you change, of course. If you’d like.”

“The rest?” Patton asked, breath hitching as the tears threatened to fall. “You mean… You didn’t make it without me?” He sniffled.

“What?” Logan blinked in surprise. “Of course not, Patton. Making hot chocolate for everyone is a tradition I enjoy spending with you. I would never-”

“Well, it's just… you brought the mug up… So, I thought…” Patton let his voice fade as he watched understanding flash over Logan’s features.

“I was worried there might be something wrong. I thought waking you with your own mug would be a nice surprise.” Logan explained. “I apologize if I gave the wrong impression, Patton. I only made the one mug. I know you find a great deal of happiness in our customary time in the kitchen. I would not want to take that from you.”

“But…” Patton murmured, eyes shifting to the others. “Everyone’s already awake… And you were all together… I don’t want to impose on-”

“¡Espera! ¡Espéra! ¡Espéra!” Roman interrupted, looking both surprised and concerned. “I did not wake up far before my beauty rest was done to hear this slander especially from Mr. Spirit of Christmas, himself! Patton, with you there is no Christmas.”

“Roman is right, Patton,” Virgil shrugged, shrinking a bit lower into his hood. “I certainly wouldn’t be celebrating and we definitely wouldn’t have come together to get you the gifts.

“I know Shop Around the Corner isn’t usually on our Christmas Merry Marathon list, but you never really get to pick a movie and I know it’s your favorite,” Roman pitched in. “At least, that's what Janus claims.”

“I totally didn’t check your browsing history,” Janus shrugged.

“And I edited the email to the artist!” Remus added proudly.

“That… explains a lot,” Logan whispered under his breath softly.

“We also didn’t bring you cookies from that bakery you hate.” Janus stated, setting the box he had been holding down on the small table next to him.

Patton was silent throughout the exchange, burying his face into the soft fabric as he began to shake silently with his sobs.

“I told you he wouldn’t like it!” Virgil cried desperately.

“No!” Patton responded, voice breaking. “I love it! I love all of it!” He dropped his hands just enough to rush forward, wrapping both Virgil and Roman into a great big hug. “Thank you so much! It’s perfect!”

Roman gave a boisterous laugh, returning the hug as Virgil couldn’t help but smile; both grunting as Remus piled atop them.

Logan approached, resting a hand on Patton’s shoulders in reassurance.

“Well, this is certainly a disgusting sight,” Janus sighed, though he was grinning as well.

“I love you guys so much!” Patton laughed, the weight on his heart lifting to the point of forgetfulness. How could he have ever thought these men didn’t need him or wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with him. They were his family!

“Is it just me or is this oddly arousing?” Remus purred.

“Ugh!” Roman and Virgil both scoffed at once, shoving the rank smelling man away from them.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?!” Roman growled, dragging his brother away.

Patton didn’t mind the outburst, however, far too busy hurrying up the stairs to change so they could get their Best Christmas EVER underway…

The End...

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akitokihojo · 5 years

Text

For Her

Inspired by this post.

----------

"Hey, hon!"

"Hi. Sorry for calling so late." Her voice was soft, wavering through the receiver. Sango's brows scrunched together slightly as her smile quickly wilted away.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you come pick me up?" Kagome asked. There was a muffled sniffle, one Sango could tell was intentionally done away from the cell held in Kagome's palm.

"What happened?" She asked more directly, perking up straight in the padded kitchen chair she'd claimed. Inuyasha and Miroku slowly placed their cards facedown on the dining room table, their attention shifting fully to Sango's call, the half demon's lips slowly parting in what was simple to see was building concern. She stood from her seat and quickly headed to the opposite end of the living room for a smidge of privacy, keeping her back to the two men as if it were equivalent to a sturdy border. The silence on the line was clenching at Sango's chest, nervousness beginning to leak through as nothing continued to be said. "Kagome?"

"I'm at the bus stop on Ninety-fourth and Carlton."

"Kagome, what's going on?!" Sango urged, making sure to keep her tone hushed.

"I - I was - I was mugged." She answered. She almost seemed embarrassed.

"What? Are you okay!?"

"I'm fine." It was smooth. Convincing. "Can you please-"

"I'm on my way. Ninety-fourth and Carlton. I'll be there in five." Sango rushed over to the table, reaching over Miroku to grab her purse from the edge of the chair opposite him, plopping it down on the mess of cards along the tabletop. Kagome quietly thanked her and ended the call, and Sango was quick to drop her phone in the side pocket of her bag so she could utilize both hands in her search for her keys.

"Everything alright?" Miroku asked apprehensively.

She shook her head. "I've gotta go get Kagome."

"What happened?" Inuyasha spoke, his voice a touch more gruff than normal. As her brown eyes flickered over his way, she noticed the tension now riddling his hoody-clad shoulders. He's had a thing for her best friend ever since they first met. Though unspoken, she could see right through him from the start. She wanted to tell him. It was nice seeing a guy as edgy as him so soft for someone, no less her best friend, but knowing Kagome, she wouldn't want this sort of attention.

"Nothing." Sango cooly responded, giving another shake of her head and meeting his ember gaze, the jingle of her keys causing one of his ears to twitch as she finally pulled them out. "She's just had a really bad day and wants to spend the night to get her mind off things. Don't worry about it, kay?" She stepped toward him, bending at the waist to kiss her neighbor's cheek. "Thanks for having me over. I'll see you later."

"Wait. Babe." Miroku stood. Of course he'd know when she was lying. She turned around and gave him a warning glance, one that Inuyasha couldn't see, and he responded with a very small cock of his head, indigo eyes imploring for more.

"Everything's fine, I promise. She needs me, though, so I've gotta go. See you." She bounced to her tippy toes real quick to kiss him, then quickly curved around him to step out the door.

Kagome hunched forward on the uncomfortable, metal bench, her hands supporting her posture on the edge as she stared at the gum-littered cement beneath her black canvas shoes. Her setting was illuminated by the streetlight she sat beneath, a smooth sound provided by the tires of the cars passing by. She kicked aside a stray twig, dragged it back with the toe of her shoe, and then kicked it away again, attempting to keep herself busy enough to not stare at the phone in her lap. Bright headlights caught her attention for the umpteenth time since she'd hung up with her best friend, and Kagome shot her gaze toward the oncoming traffic. This time, though, a slowing vehicle drove outside the lines of the road, dipping into the curve created for the city bus just past where she sat and coming to a stop, hazards now flashing. Sango stepped out and threw the door shut, running over to Kagome just as she stood, and crushing her with a hug.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, thanks for coming." Kagome sighed, sinking into her arms.

Sango pulled away, holding her jaw and tilting her face up to the light to check her over. The poor thing had a busted, bottom lip, smudged blood marring a small portion of her chin from it, and her right cheek was angry and scraped. Her eyes were slightly puffy and red, as was the tip of her nose, and she was a little shaky against her touch. Again, she wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her in for a suffocating hug.

"Are you sure?” Kagome nodded against her shoulder. Eventually allotting her some air, Sango loosened her grasp, guiding her away. "Come on, let’s get you in the car."

As she dropped herself into the drivers seat after ushering Kagome into the passenger's, she locked the doors, looking over to her friend while she analyzed her condition in the sun visor mirror for probably the first time since the incident. A grimace made home on Kagome's face before she flinched from the way it affected her scabbing lip.

"Okay, what happened?"

Kagome was hesitant, softly rubbing at the redness on her cheek before gently placing the visor back along the hood of the car. Her dark eyes shifted down to her lap just as the inner lights dimmed off, then over to Sango.

"I don't really know what happened. I mean, I was mugged. He stole my purse." Kagome shrugged.

"And he hit you." It wasn't mentioned to be an ill-suited reminder, but as something she thought shouldn't be disregarded or shrugged off.

"Y-yeah. I stupidly tried to fight him off for my bag, so he threw me against the wall and slapped me a couple times."

"A couple times!? Kagome, your lip is bleeding!"

"No, really. Twice. He backhanded me, but I'm pretty sure he was wearing a ring."

Sango sighed, still stiff in her seat, turning her body to completely face her best friend. "Kagome, I need you to be absolutely honest with me. Are you sure you're okay? Do I - do I need to take you to the hospital?"

"I promise, I'm fine. That's all that happened." She assured her, turning almost as much to match her body language.

"Okay, what about the police? We need to file a report to catch this guy."

"Nah, it's not worth it. He wore a ski mask, so I wouldn't be able to give them anything other than he's tall and has a deep, burly man's voice."

"But your purse!"

"I'll replace my I.D., I'll see if I can shut down my debit card through the banking app as soon as I'm home, and he'll have successfully gotten away with a five dollar bill, a collection of old receipts, a whole bunch of loose change at the bottom of the bag, and my chapstick - which is oddly what I'm most upset about right about now."

"Here." Sango pulled her own purse from behind the passenger seat to the front, fishing out the Blistex from the inner pocket and handing it to her. "Keep it."

Kagome gratefully snatched the tube from her hand, once more yanking down the visor to utilize the mirror, guiding the chapstick carefully around the cut on her bottom lip. She couldn't fight off the habit of rubbing the moisture on her lips together, instantly regretting the action and wincing from the sting.

"Kagome, are you sure?" Sango tried again, leaning her head against the headrest.

"Yeah. It's too much trouble for what it's worth." She sighed, resting back in her seat after knocking the visor back up. "But - um -" Kagome pushed some rogue, raven strands of wavy hair behind her ear, glancing sheepishly at her best friend. "I don't really want to be alone tonight. Is it okay if I stay with you?"

"Girl, I didn't plan on taking you home in the first place." Sango smiled, pressing her hazards off and shifting her idle car into gear.

"Is Miroku over?"

Sango checked the oncoming traffic over her shoulder, waiting until it was safe and pulling out from the bus's curb. "We were actually at Inuyasha's playing poker when you called. He should have gone home by now."

"Oh no, do they know?" Kagome whined, sinking further down as if to hide from her own embarrassment.

"No, no, no. I swear, I didn't tell them anything."

"But they know something's up?"

"Well, yeah." She grimaced. "There was no way around that. But I told them you were just having an awful day and wanted a girl's night."

"And they fell for it?"

"Yup."

"Inuyasha fell for it?"

"Yup."

"Miroku fell for it?"

"Um - no. But he knows better than to pry. He'll be gone, Inuyasha won't even notice us roll up, and in no time at all you'll be sitting in front of the TV on the couch with an icepack in one hand and a margarita in the other." Sango flicked her blinker on, sparing a side glance at her friend as she waited for the light to change for the left turn lane. Kagome was staring down at her lap, sucking on her bottom lip as she nodded in acknowledgment. The red light switched down to green, and Sango took the turn slow, driving through the residential neighborhood until her apartment complex came into view, taking a right into the parking lot.

"Shit." Kagome groaned.

"Fuck." Sango hissed. Inuyasha leaned against the stucco wall outside his unit, arms crossed over his chest with a hardened expression. Right beside him was Miroku with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweater, cautiously watching them pull into Sango's assigned parking spot.

Kagome felt her cheeks grow hot, brown eyes noticing Inuyasha kick off the wall, bouncing away from him, then right back to the half demon. Wash, rinse, and repeat until her friend pulled the keys from the ignition, bringing the soft rumble of the motor to a stop. She held them out for Kagome to take by the plastic of the car key, the pink puffball hanging down from a chain swinging back and forth until she dropped it in her hands. "Go ahead and go inside. I'll take care of them."

Without an ounce of hesitation, Sango threw her door open and slammed it behind her, jogging toward the two approaching men across the lot with her hands held out to stop them. "Wait, no. Give her some space, she's had a really rough night."

"What the hell happened?" Inuyasha demanded, hardly able to tear his ember eyes away from the girl keeping her head down as she exited the vehicle.

"Don't worry about it. What are you even doing out here?"

"Oh, because you didn't make it obvious at all that something bad had happened?" The half demon chided.

"Yes. Something bad happened, but it's over and things have calmed down. She doesn't necessarily want to be surrounded by people right now, though." Sango retorted.

"The more you push him away, the more he's gonna worry." Miroku plainly remarked.

"He has no reason to. Everything's fine now. Would you just-"

Inuyasha growled as he pushed passed Sango, his shoulder nudging her out of the way, deliberately crossing the lot to Kagome. There was a small yank at his sleeve before the fingers slipped their measly grip on him, along with a hissed version of his name, but it was easily in one ear and out the other. His goal was to get to Kagome, and he'd like to see anyone try and stop him. He didn't know why his adamance was so severe. All he knew was he didn't care how fine Sango insisted everything was. Unless he could see and hear from the person this centered around that everything was, in fact, dandy, then he wouldn't believe it.

Kagome had glanced over at him when she realized he was coming and stopped just in front of the hood of Sango's car, blinking shyly before ducking her head to the side again. Why did she keep doing that? She'd never been very bashful around him before. She was loud, and happy, and playful, and direct. Whenever she saw him coming, she'd usually go in straight for a hug. Now, she was holding herself, guarded, trying to smile it off while still staring away.

"Why can't he ever listen?" Sango huffed, only standing back because Miroku had physically stopped her from interfering.

"He saw through your lie before you even said it. Literally right after you left he called bullshit and went outside to wait."

"How could he tell?"

"Sango." Miroku deadpanned.

"You're almost as frustrating as he is, I swear."

"Look, he cares. Especially about her; you and I have both mentioned that he seems to be having a harder time keeping that a secret from everyone lately. He has weird ways of showing affection usually, but for once, this isn't one of them. Give him two minutes. She isn't pushing him away."

"That's not what matters right now!"

"Okay, so what is? Spill, because no one other than you knows what's going on. She didn't just have a "bad day," did she? Otherwise, I don't think you'd be making such a big deal out of this."

Sango sighed, shaking her head. "She was robbed and assaulted." She watched Miroku's defensive expression fall. "So, you can imagine she'd like an inkling of peace right now. She doesn't want everyone seeing her this way, it's humiliating."

"Hi." Kagome greeted feebly, glancing up at him as he neared. She couldn't help the nerves that were flaring, causing her to bob from one foot to the other and suck in her bottom lip once more, hanging her head slightly. She felt vulnerable, but at the same time, as he closed the distance between them and his presence washed over her, she began to feel inexplicably safe and warm. Inuyasha didn't say anything. For a small moment, he just stood before her. Then, he stepped in so their bodies were separated only by inches. In her peripherals, she noticed him lean forward, his head cocking to the side, short, silver strands sticking out in the stark contrast of the night.

"Hey," He whispered. It was more to grab her attention than to greet. Kagome spared him another small look before looking down at his shoes. Gentle fingers curled under her jaw, gliding along the soft flesh until he reached her chin, shocking her. She never jerked away, though. She'd flinched, but she didn't resist against his pull, tilting her head back so he could see her fully. "You don't have to hide from me."

Inuyasha knew he'd seen red on one cheek from her minor upward glimpses, but as the yellow lighting of a nearby lamppost illuminated her features, he realized it wasn't just the chill of the night that had her flushed. Kagome's brown eyes were wide, slightly afraid, watching him look her over, her plush lips parting slightly as he ran the pad of his thumb over the dried blood on her chin. There was some swelling near the cut, making her bottom lip appear pinker than it naturally was and attracting his thumb to curve up and drag over. Kagome's chin slightly wrinkled as it quivered, the corners of her mouth giving a tiny arch downward, and he could smell the fresh salt of tears brimming. It caused rage to bubble in his abdomen, seeing her this way. No one had the right to take her smile from her. No one had the right to hurt Kagome. Not with him around.

The bubbling was effervescent now, coursing through his bloodstream and making him want to snap, to break something, but he didn't want her seeing that sort of reaction. Not right now. Not after whatever the hell she'd been through, so he gritted his teeth, flexing his jaw muscles so he couldn't speak irrationally. Inuyasha grazed his thumb along her soft chin again in an attempt to calm her, giving it his all to soften the scowl he felt forming on his own face. When he felt as properly controlled as manageable, he sighed through his clenched throat, inching just a little closer to the girl.

"Who did this to you?" Inuyasha seethed.

Kagome's expression twisted sadly, the trembling in her chin and bottom lip bringing something to ache dully within his chest. She shook her head, looking down before shrugging her shoulders, and he tensed his fingers against her jaw so as not to allow her to completely turn away from him.

"I don't know. He came out of nowhere."

Crumbling quickly, he wrapped his arms around, pulling her into his chest, holding her tightly as she began to cry. Kagome clutched the back of his sweater; he could feel her fingers gripping the baggy cloth, and as he curled into her, stroking her hair, he caught the faint whiff of someone else. He held onto the scent, memorizing it to the best of his abilities.

"Are you alright?" He asked, tone husky and low.

She nodded into his sternum.

"I'm serious, Kagome," Inuyasha leaned back, taking her face in his hands and bending so he could look her in the eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She said brokenly, tears pooling at the tops of her cheeks. He wiped them away, running his fingers back through her hairline to push the dark strands to rest behind her ears.

"Does it hurt?"

"My lip does. A little."

"Let's get you some ice." Inuyasha tucked her back within his arms, positioning her at his side so they could walk towards Sango's apartment, her arms encircling his waist as she rested her head against his chest. Sango and Miroku met them at the door, and Kagome handed the keys over for her best friend to unlock the bolt and knob to let everyone in.

While Sango took Kagome to the bedroom to wash her face in the master bath and change, Inuyasha turned to Miroku, allowing the scowl he'd hidden to appear vividly. His friend passed on the story from Sango; what had happened to Kagome, what was taken, why she had marks. Inuyasha was furious, but he pressed his lips into a tight line to prevent himself from saying something loud or stupid, deciding instead to stomp his way over to the freezer to snag the icepack, wrapping it in a clean dishtowel from the cabinet nearby.

"You've seriously got nothing to say?" Miroku probed, cocking a brow.

"Nope."

"Nothing at all?"

"Shut up."

"Man," Sango's boyfriend nodded, impressed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're really in deep here."

Inuyasha rolled his ember eyes, huffing out through his nose as he lolled his head to the side. "That's not even - would you just mind your fucking business? I'm trying to be nice. Like you're always telling me."

"Oh, but what's funny is I've never once had to tell you to be nice to Kagome."

"I think our definitions of funny are pretty different."

"I think you're gonna do something reckless tonight."

Inuyasha smirked, watching the girls reappear at the end of the hall, Kagome's hair now tied up in a messy bun. Loose strands waved around her face, framing her jaw perfectly, and she sauntered toward him in a pair of Sango's flannel bottoms and a tank top.

"For her," He rumbled softly so only Miroku would hear. "You fucking bet I am."

Kagome laughed into her blanket as Sango made an obnoxious joke about the romcom they watched, their pitcher of margarita on the coffee table running low and their glasses almost empty as well. As was natural for any other bad night, they'd ordered pizza, the pizza box sitting open next to it all with only three cold slices remaining. The boys had long been gone, and it was just the two of them enjoying a relaxing, unwinding, well-deserved girls night that had quickly made the stress of the evening immensely better for Kagome. Sango reached for a slice after finishing off her blended drink, nearly choking on her bite when a knock at the door startled them. They both glanced at their phones to check the time, bewildered expressions twisting their features when they saw it was just after three in the morning.

"Is it too soon to make a joke about being attacked in the middle of the night, because boy, I am not ready to die!"

Kagome giggled and tossed the closest throw pillow at her best friend, hitting her in the face. "I'm pretty sure if we were in any danger they wouldn't be knocking politely to square up."

"Then you answer the door!"

"Oh, no. If I'm wrong, I've taken enough hands for one night, thank you."

"Alright, if I die," Sango breathed, dropping her pizza back in the box and standing to make her way toward the entrance, wiggling her shoulders in preparation. "Tell Miroku he has a nice butt."

She peeked through the peephole, surprised when no one was in view, and then unlocked the door, cracking it open to peer out.

"Hey, Kagome." Sango called, a smile slowly growing on her face. "It's for you."

Kagome furrowed her brows in question, removing the quilt from her crossed legs and walking over. Her best friend opened the door wider and moved aside, a sly grin aimed her way. There was nobody there, so Kagome's brown eyes drifted to the floor, her heart giving a powerful sputter when she noticed her purse on the welcome mat, a red rose plucked at the head sitting on top of the hobo bag.

Crouching down, Kagome delicately picked up the rose, cradling it in one hand as she shifted through the open compartment of her purse with the other, shuffling through her belongings. As she pulled out her wallet, she flicked the buttoned tab open, folding it back to take a look inside.

"It's all here." She said, somewhat surprised.

"Gee, I wonder who could have possibly done this." Sango poorly acted aloof.

Kagome stood with her rescued bag in hand, stepping out to glance four doors down. The illuminated living room light was visible through his front window, and a rush of soothing warmth flooded her body, pooling in her cheeks.

"I'll - uh - be right back, okay?" She held her things out for Sango to take, not removing her eyes from the window lest they turn off. As the weight left her hands, all the while ignoring the taunting acknowledgement from her best friend, she bravely walked down the path, stopping just before the mahogany door.

It took a small moment to build the right amount of courage to knock, her heart pounding erratically, flutters tickling her tummy as she reached forward and rasped her knuckles against the wood. The wait was even worse. Then, the locks slid open loudly and she was looking at a slightly perplexed half demon in the doorway. His cheeks were briskly flushed, ember eyes shadowed from the night, short hair as ruffled and messy as usual.

And she couldn’t hold back the smile, crooked at first as her grin grew.

Kagome looked him over. He was still donned in the same hoody, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, and the knuckles of his right hand red and scabbed. Nonchalantly, Inuyasha turned his palm upward, resting it on the doorframe so it was out of her view.

"What's up?" He asked huskily. He knew she hadn't been asleep, he could hear them giggling from outside. The last thing he'd expected, though, was for her to actually drop by this late at night.

"How'd you do it?"

"Hm?"

"My purse. How'd you get it back?"

Inuyasha smiled softly, giving two taps to the tip of his nose. "I've got a good sense of smell."

"I - I don't know how to thank you." Kagome felt something pulling her towards him, like a string attached to her finger was being yanked by an invisible force.

"Don't worry about it. It's not necessary, I didn't do it for glory or anything."

"But why did you do it? You could have gotten hurt."

"For you, dummy." Inuyasha quickly and boldly stated. "I wasn't about to let some creep get away with what he did to you. I'd rather rot in hell than see -" He stopped. Stiffened. The remainder of his sentence fizzled away on his tongue as he realized she was blushing, lips slightly parted and dark eyes glistening in the dim lighting that flooded out from his living room lamp. The cut on her lip was scabbed, and stretched from the seal to just below where the pink tint ended, a dark shade outlining the small wound, only making him want to run his finger over it all the more. As if the pad of his thumb could take the evidence of it all away.

"Than see..." Kagome gently pushed him to finish.

"Than see you cry." Inuyasha meagerly admitted.

She sucked in her bottom lip and he didn't hesitate to curl his fingers around her chin, softly rubbing the base of her mouth. "Don't do that. You'll make it worse." And as she complied, he dropped his hand.

"And the rose?" Kagome asked, pushing some hair behind her ear. The half demon scrunched his nose, looking off to the side.

"I just wanted to make you feel better."

"You did. Hours ago. Inuyasha, you sat beside me and willingly held the icepack to my face for fifteen minutes. And you didn't even seem remotely bothered by it. Everything kind of went away while you were there."

"I'd do it again." His voice came out low, gruff.

"I'd do it for you, too." Kagome reached for his right palm, bringing his reddened knuckles to her lips. "Thank you."

Inuyasha softened. Her touch always did something to him, but tonight was so much more. Slowly, but before she could let him go, he folded his fingers over hers, pulling her just a smidge closer so he could kiss her forehead.

"Go back inside, Kagome." He whispered against her skin. As she stepped away to leave, he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. She turned back to look at him twice; once when she was midway, and again just before she fully entered Sango's apartment. When the door was shut and he knew she was safe, Inuyasha smiled, raking his fingers through his hair before stepping inside, himself.

#inuyasha #kagome #Kagome higurashi #inukag #Inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fic #InuKag fanfiction #inukag fanfic #inukag fic #sango #miroku #akitokihojo #my writing #for her

572 notes · View notes

in-my-head-i-do-everything-right · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Basically the entirety of “I wanna be yours” by Arctic Monkeys but more specifically “secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be yours

secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. maybe I just wanna be yours

In October, while she’s still riding the high of absolutely demolishing Greg Dewey in mock trial, she finds out that the hot guy who’s always standing outside the library after her 3 PM post mock trial coffee break was the one who said that shitty thing about her sister two years ago while walking out of a debate competition—a competition Allie is ninety percent sure he won, by the way. And sure, he looks hot as fuck leaning against that exposed brick in his Tom Ford coat. Which, arguably is his right. To look hot. But, still.

He said the shitty thing about her sister. Allie’s still a little pissed about that. Which is her right.

“You’re Harry Bingham, right?” she asks, just to make sure. God, his name is so… Waspy. Pure Wasp. Bingham. She’s bets his family came over on the Mayflower. She bets they’re proud of that.

He smirks down at her. Smirks. He literally smirks. “Who’s asking?”

She can’t get over the smirk. Like, is it hot? Yes. Is she incredibly annoyed at him already? Big yes. “Who do you think is asking?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his coat. It’s a really nice navy. Allie’s honestly a big fan of the coat. “If you’re asking…”

“It’s a yes or no question,” she snaps, her arms flailing a little, her coffee sloshing around in her cup. She paid five dollars for it from the student run coffee shop and she doubts it was at all worth it. But she made a promise, okay? A promise to her sister that she’d support small businesses. Which has pretty much only meant stopping with the daily Starbucks, but Cassandra doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, I’m Harry Bingham. Why?” How was that smooth? No, Allie would seriously like to know. How did he make that sound smooth? How is that possible?

“Did you do debate in high school?”

His brow scrunches. His head tilts. He still looks hot. “Why—”

“Another yes or no question.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, carefully, like he’s trying to figure out where this conversation is going in real time, “I did debate in high school.”

She smiles. It’s not a proper smile, more of a half-smile. A smug smile? Doesn’t matter. “Great. Do you remember Cassandra Pressman?”

Harry’s face lights up briefly, probably with recognition. “Yeah, I remember Cassandra. She’s hard to forget. Very… intense.”

“Well,” Allie says, stretching out the word. God, she hates men. “I’m her sister, and from what I can remember, you said some pretty shitty stuff about her, and were, just in general, a complete and total asshole.”

“Excuse—”

“A misogynistic asshole, actually. And you know what, this coffee is shit anyway so—” In one fluid movement, an honestly graceful movement, a movement that Allie is—no matter how disappointed she knows her parents will be in her—proud of, she dumps her shitty five dollar coffee all over the front of his Tom Ford coat.

He lets out this pained sounding gasp that half resembles a mess of curses, and she walks away victorious and mostly guilt free.

Two hours later, he follows her on Instagram. She does not follow him back (even though she thinks about it because… hot dude), and that feels really good too.

With a start like that, they shouldn’t make it anywhere. Still…

In November, she runs into him in line at the student run coffee shop. Which just furthers the point that she needs to stop going there.

“Allie Pressman,” he says, and if he wasn’t so hot, so might be a little creeped out. But, also, she does know his name. So maybe they’re even?

“Hi,” she says, semi-awkwardly. About as awkward as can be expected when you run into the guy you dumped a whole coffee on. Also, turns out setting was not what was making him so attractive. No surprises there, but still something to take note of.

“Thought you said the coffee here was shitty.”

She purses her lips. “Well, I have Pfeiffer this semester, so while the coffee here is,” she lowers her voice just a little. God, she loves being dramatic, “incredibly shitty, I definitely need the caffeine.”

“Oh,” he visibly winces, “sorry about Pfeiffer’s class.” And, then, just before they reach the front of the line, “Let me buy you a coffee? To make up for the fact that you will be getting very little sleep this semester?”

She tilts her head to the side. Who the fuck is this boy, and how much is he willing to spend on coffee? “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you coffee. Because… well, you know.”

It’s a half-grin half-smirk this time. And it is, arguably, much more disarming. “My friends and I have taken to calling it The Incident,” he supplies, and oh he’s funny too. Fuck.

“Sorry about that, by the way.” She is not, in fact, at all sorry about The Incident. However, Hot Guy (he does have a name, and she does know said name, but… well) is about to buy her a coffee, and judging by the Rolex on his wrist, price does not matter.

He shrugs. “I had it coming. And I’m sorry about the shit I said about Cassandra.” Allie’s mouth doesn’t necessarily fall open, but it almost falls open, and that counts for something. White boy admits he made a mistake. This is first page news. “I was stupid and upset and probably a little high. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

He levels her this easy grin. This content grin. This… I am one step ahead of you grin. “I messaged your sister on Facebook a very lengthy and somewhat heartfelt apology a year ago.”

They are officially at the front of the line. Allie does not care. “Cassandra hasn’t checked her Facebook since 2018.”

“That sounds like a her problem.”

Allie ignores that. “Hi,” she says to the cashier. “I’ll have a large caramel macchiato with two shots of espresso please.”

Harry looks equal parts disgusted and appreciative. And a little bit concerned. Which is valid. “Small black coffee for me.”

“And can I also get one of those brownies, and two of those turkey shaped sugar cookies,” she turns to him. Spending someone else’s money on food is fun. “Don’t they just look so cute?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding amused and looking way too endeared. “They look very cute. You plan on sharing with me?”

She should not be playing along with this. “Maybe.”

He follows her outside, catching the door and holding it open for her. It’s raining, which sorta sucks, but she has no plans on actually sitting down with this boy. That feels like a step too far.

Only, then—“My place is just around the corner,” he says, so fucking casually. And, God, how is she supposed to respond to that? “I’ll trade you one of those cookies for my notes from Pfeiffer’s course.”

Her heart is about to beat out of her chest. This is not good. “You paid for the cookies.”

“I know.”

Fuck.

“Okay, let’s go to your place.”

They have sex five times over the course of a week before her conscious tells her to stop. Then, she tries avoiding him for the rest of November but gives up two days after Thanksgiving. Because she’s not immune to anybody who calls to offere her left over pumpkin pie, okay. Fucking sue her.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she says right off the bat, and he lets out this laugh that involves him throwing his head back. And that shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and she should not be feeling this warm inside because it is literally snowing right now.

“Where should you be, Pressman?”

“Studying for my polisci midterm.”

He continues looking at her way too fondly. Her cheeks flush a pale pink. She blames the change in temperature. “You have Craven?”

“Yeah.”

He does this little waving motion that is much hotter than it should be. One day she will find a thing he looks unattractive doing. Today is not the day. “Don’t even worry about it. Easiest test I ever took.”

“I should still probably be studying for it.”

He shakes his head, and that makes her laugh even though she very much does not want to. “You seem pretty smart. Don’t worry about it.”

That was… comforting.

“You know, I kinda like what we have going,” he says, and nope her heart should not be beating anywhere near as hard as it is. Is she having a heart attack? Oh, God, is she about to die? Is she about to die in Harry Bingham’s apartment? Cassandra is going to be so disappointed.

“And what exactly is this that we have going?” she manages to get out. Yeah, Allie can practically taste Cassandra’s disappointment.

“Eating baked goods and having sex. Obviously.”

She chokes on her bite of pumpkin pie.

“So if you wanna get dinner sometime…” he continues, as though she is not choking right in front of him.

She manages to dislodge the piece of pumpkin pie in her throat. If that shit wasn’t so fucking delicious, she would be swearing it off right now. “Would you be paying?”

He looks surprised. That counts as a victory. “Yes?”

“Then no, I’m good.”

“Why?” he asks, just a little too quickly, and, yeah, his composure is entirely gone, and they are once more on an equal playing field. Arguably, she might have the upper hand right now. Which is nice.

“Because that sounds a lot like a date, and I do not want to date you.”

To his credit, he only looks sort of hurt. She takes another bite of that pumpkin pie. Who cares if it might kill her. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my sister’s high school debate rival, and that just feels a little too it’s a small world for me.”

“That’s a shitty excuse.”

“But it’s a valid one, isn’t it?”

“No, not really.” Well. At least he’s being honest.

“Look, Harry.” First name and everything. This is called progress. “You’re nice and all—really great baked goods—but Cassandra would give me that disappointed face if it ever came out that I’m… associated with you. And, honestly, I can’t handle that right now. Mentally—nope. Not happening.” She sounds flustered. She feels flustered.

“Okay?” She is taking that answer as a win.

“Great!” Too bright. “Hopefully we can stay friends? Or at least the type of acquaintances who buy the other fun shaped sugar cookies and give them the notes to classes so they have a chance to not fail.”

He stares at her, a bit like he doesn’t think she’s real, like he’s marveling at everything that she is. That or she has pumpkin pie crumbs all over her face. And, then: “Actually,” he starts, and oh God, this is not going to go her way is it?

“What?” she says very slowly.

“You know what?”

“What?” She repeats.This is already getting annoying.

“You know what’s hot?”

“What?” (But with additional fear this time.)

“Secret relationships.”

Oh. Oh Fuck.

She doesn’t have an argument for that.

Honestly, that’s probably the moment that it all starts.

send me song lyrics and a pairing and i’ll write you a drabble

#lol i doubt this is what you wanted #so i'm sorry abt that #this also Does Not address the prompt #i kept telling myself that it would #nope #never happened #this is more the start to a very long and somewhat angsty fic about them in a not-a-relationship relationship #but then i got bored #maybe i'll finish it one day #(also. to the person who just sent all those folklore lyrics. i see you. and i cannot wait to write angst.)#hallie #the society #drabble

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Not Your (soul)Mate {10/15}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Will my posting schedule ever make sense? Probably not. Anyways, thanks for reading, my pals! You guys are the best, and I love love love you all for loving this story and these two crazy people💜

Thank you to @captainsjedi for her love and support and artwork!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @initiala @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark @cssns

-/-

No part of her understands why their cable bill is mailed to her. They’re a cable company. They provide TV and internet and yet they’ve never heard of paperless online billing. It’s ridiculous. And yet the minute she’s late with her payment she gets an increasingly nasty series of emails that shows they obviously know how to use the internet. And since Storybrooke Cable is the only company that provides internet in a sixty-mile radius, it’s not like they don’t have the funds to set up a website. Hell, she’ll take a class and learn how to program the website for them if she has to.

Well, probably not. That’s all a little dramatic, but she really hates having to go down to the mailboxes in the basement to get her mail so that she can go upstairs and write a check and buy a stamp to mail the payment in. It’s not the biggest deal in the world, but she hates it.

She obviously would not have lasted in a world without internet.

The old stairs creak beneath her, a sound that she’s used to when she’s carrying her laundry downstairs (it’s how she knows when she’s on the unsteady step since usually she can’t see over the full height of her clothes which is what procrastination gets her), and she quickly descends downstairs to the row of mailboxes that rest against the wall in front of the washing machines and dryers that work at least ninety percent of the time.

She and Belle need to move to a nicer place. They can afford it, but then again, if Belle moves, it’ll probably be with Will. It’s a constant thought every time Emma thinks about it, so she never quite works up the courage to bring up moving somewhere else. This place is just fine, they’ve made it their home, and so what if she has to walk to a bit of a creepy place to get her mail to pay her cable bill. It’s not like anyone in this town is actually going to do something to her.

They’d have hell to pay.

The stairs could use a little work, though, maybe a few new light fixtures for the hallways too.

Pulling out her key, she twists it in her box, opening it and grabbing the few envelopes that lay flat against the metal. She closes the box, locking it back up, and as she walks up the stairs, she shuffles through the mail, tripping on a loose board as she sees neat black script inked across the white in the upper left corner.

Killian Jones.

What the hell?

What the hell is he doing sending her a letter? Even though her toe is still stinging from how she jammed it, the pain worse than some of her injuries she’s gotten on the job, she stops in the middle of the staircase and rips the letter open.

Dear Emma Swan,

You’ll have to forgive me because it’s been awhile since I’ve written a letter that’s not an e-mail. I’ve been told by a rather reliable source that it’s a bit old-fashioned to write like this, but I do like a bit of a challenge. So, Swan, I’m sitting at my desk writing you a letter on stationary that Ariel found me and with my very favorite pen. And while I don’t expect you to write back, I have included several stamps to encourage you. You wouldn’t want me to waste money, now would you?

Anyways, I find myself wondering about you because you intrigue me. There are things I’d like to know. For instance, how long have you been a secret nerd watching the History Channel and National Geographic? I, for one, have been a fan for years. It’s fascinating to learn about things that have happened in the past. What other interests do you have? Do you enjoy sports? Read any good books lately? What is your ultimate favorite baked good? Do you like cooking them yourself? Are you one of those people who have a favorite flower? I am partial to sunflowers over roses, preferring the brightness of yellow, but then again, there are yellow roses.

I’m simply but a curious man who enjoys knowing the answers to my questions, and in return, you can feel free to ask me anything you want. I’d even tell you what kind of underwear I wear since you seem to be averse to answering that particular question.

Sincerely,

Killian A. Jones

“Oh my God,” she mumbles, scanning over the words one more time before opening up the envelope to see several stamps with pictures of sailboats on them.

A part of her absolutely cannot believe that he wrote her a freaking letter, but then again, she’s not really shocked. That’s exactly something that he would do just to annoy her, and the fact that he included stamps is really over the top. She’s not going to complain. She needs stamps, but damn, the man is persistent.

But she’s not going to write him back.

Absolutely not.

She folds his letter back up and puts it in the envelope before walking up the rest of the stairs and turning in the stairwell so she can get back to her floor, quickly moving into her apartment to write a check so she can send off the cable bill before she gets to work this morning. Belle is still sleeping, so she tries to stay quiet as she grabs her purse and walks right back out the door, all of her mail in the front pocket of her purse.

All day she ignores the letter that seems to be burning a hole through the leather material of her purse that’s hidden under her desk, but it’s more of an attempt at ignoring it than actually ignoring it, because when David leaves to go question a fight that broke out down by the pier, she grabs a piece of paper out of the printer and starts writing something back.

Damn it. Has she lost control of her limbs?

Jones,

You’re ridiculous. Seriously. I can’t believe you took our texts as a challenge, but then again, it is you. I have no idea why I’m writing you back, but you did say that I could ask you any question I want, and, well, I simply can’t pass up that opportunity.

So tell me, what is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you? And spare no detail.

Sincerely,

Emma Swan.

PS: I am a mean ping pong player, and I agree with you about the roses. If you’re looking for a good book recommendation, though, I suggest Belle. She gives me all of mine.

Oh, and bear claws.

And I want to know what the A in your name stands for.

Quickly, she stuffs the paper in an envelope, seals it, writes his address on it, places a stamp in the corner, and puts it in the mailbox outside of the station so that she literally can’t take it back without tampering with federal law. She’ll bend a lot of rules, but she’s not going to break federal law over something as dumb as a letter.

Two days later, she gets a letter back. There’s no formal address this time, and she kind of likes that…not that she likes this.

Really went straight for the kill then, eh Swan? It took me a bit to remember what exactly my most embarrassing memory is, simply because I’m so suave that I don’t have many embarrassing moments.

However, when I was a young lad of twenty-three, I had the night off and left base to go out to a pub with a few of my mates. This was something we did often, something we’d done for our five years together, but on this particular night I indulged in a few too many glasses of rum. My tolerance wasn’t quite what it is now, even if I do wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck now, and while I don’t remember the night but in a few glances (particularly me telling the lasses that I was the Captain when I was not), I do remember waking up in the flat of a woman I didn’t know without my clothes anywhere in sight. Either she stole them, my mates somehow stole them, or something else happened, but my options to get home were either walking in the streets of Birkenhead in the nude or wearing this lass’s mother’s nightgown. It was this billowing, flowery thing, and while I fully believe I can wear anything I want, let’s just say my actual Captain did not take too kindly to me walking back onto base in something that was not approved. I was written up three times for one incident, and I’d just like you to imagine me having to explain why to my superiors why I was wearing a nightgown when I had no idea myself.

I have to say, though, nightgowns are quite comfortable. Lots of air to breathe. It’s likely a good thing that my mates thought it would be funny to buy me a nightgown when I was promoted. It was much more my taste. Silk is wonderful, though I don’t think I ever wore it. I much prefer my briefs.

So, there’s a story of one of the brightest moments of my youth, and while I’m sure you’ll somehow use it to torture me, it’s yours to know.

My middle name is, Andrew, by the way, and the lovely Belle has recommended me to The Guest Book as reading material. It’s rather good. Feel free to borrow my copy if you’d like. Speaking of Belle, I hear Mr. French makes rather delectable bear claws, but he’s in a fierce rivalry with Mrs. Lucas over who makes the best. Personally, I think they’re using pastries as a bit of foreplay, but that’s simply a theory from an observer.

Now, Swan, I’ve metaphorically shown you mine, so you should show me yours.

Have a good week,

Killian Andrew Jones.

Emma doesn’t realize it, but by the time she’s finished reading the letter, she’s got tears streaming down her face, just a few of them, from laughing at the thought of Killian running around in a nightgown. That’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, but for some reason, she has no issue imagining him walking into base in a flowery nightgown that hits at his knees and shows off all of the hair on his legs with the shoulders being a little tight. It’s ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, and she’s glad that Belle is still at the library so that she doesn’t ask what in the world Emma is laughing at.

It would be a little hard to explain.

Well, not really, but she doesn’t want to explain. Because her explaining any of this would make her have to explain other things, and since Belle already knows that Killian sent her the basket of baked goods months ago. So it would be too difficult to explain her...having to explain. This is kind of like some sort of bad inception.

But Belle’s not even here, so it definitely doesn’t matter.

While she’s still laughing, she gets up from the table and heads to the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass out of the cabinets and pouring her a glass of the wine that she and Belle didn’t finish drinking last night. If she’s going to spend her time writing letters to Killian, which is a ridiculous concept in and of itself, she should at least have some alcohol in her.

Not enough to make her have to wake up without clothes and have to borrow an ugly nightgown from the mother of the person she’d slept with but some alcohol all the same.

She doesn’t have any paper here, so she has to shuffle through some of the old notebooks Belle keeps on their bookshelves, and takes out a lined page from the back, settling down on the couch with her wine and paper and pin while Drain the Oceans plays on the TV.

Killian Andrew (Asshole) Jones,

I’ve added the “asshole” because I really did think that was your middle name. You did say you would respond to it, but I guess Andrew is okay. Is that a family name? Your father’s maybe? I don’t have a middle name, didn’t even have a last name, only my first, but I’ve always kind of thought it would be something classic since my first name is.

Shit. I just got wine on the paper. Oops.

So you and that rum, huh? You seem to be a fan of it. And also nightgowns. Are you sure you don’t sleep in one of those? Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend? You scare them all away with your nightgown. I imagine it makes easy access to...things, so really, they should like it better than the briefs. It’s just a great mystery that may never be solved.

Granny’s bear claws are better than Mr. French’s hands down, but Mr. French has better pastries overall. Plus, he’s like my dad, so you implying that they have a thing going on is really kind of freaking me out. I bet Granny wears a nightgown, though, which makes my earlier joke about easy access so much creepier.

Some things simply shouldn’t be imagined. But if you’re going to, make sure to tell Ruby to scar her for life.

I haven’t read that book, but if Belle recommends it, it must be good. I’ll have to check it out. I’ve been very into historical romances lately, which isn’t really on par for me, but there’s simply something about Jane Austen, you know?

Thanks for telling me your most embarrassing story. You’re right. I’m totally going to use that against you, and no, I will not tell you my most embarrassing story. It involves karaoke, though, so it’s a good one.

Emma

If she hadn’t had the wine, she probably would have realized that she revealed a bit too much in her letter, but after she seals it that night and sends it off in the morning, still using the sailboat stamps Killian provided, she doesn’t think about it.

Not at all.

What she does think about is the fact that eight days go by without a new letter. She didn’t even realize that she wanted another letter, that she got a weird sense of excitement over them, until she wasn’t receiving one in her mailbox.

Who has she turned into that she’s checking her mailbox daily?

What decade is this?

But her week has gone by as normal, spending her days at work, reveling in the hour break she gets to eat lunch with David or Ariel, and her evenings at home, sometimes with Belle, sometimes not. On Saturday she, Ruby, Belle, Mary Margaret, and Ariel all spent the day at the beach, waking up early enough to beat all of the tourists there, and settled down with blankets and umbrellas with bags full of food and a cooler full of drinks. They didn’t bother moving, not unless to dip into the ocean to cool themselves off or to run up to the pier to use the restroom, and even if her eyes constantly trailed down to the pier to look at the fleet of ships and boats and what not resting outside of the Jones’ office.

And if her eyes kept checking her texts even if most everyone she spoke to was already there, no one had to know. Though she does think that Ruby noticed.

She wasn’t very subtle in her desperation.

But she didn’t see him, not that she wanted to, and she tried to push it all to the back of her mind to enjoy the day as the sun beat down on her skin so that she got the slightest bit of a tan that she hopes stays with her until the fall.

Okay, so she thinks about the lack of a letter a lot.

However, she wasn’t thinking about it when she was driving home from work, but now that she’s standing next to the door of her apartment with Will holding a stack of their mail, it’s all she can think about.

Shit.

Why didn’t it occur to her that she and Belle share a mailbox and that Belle could see one of these letters? How could she have missed that?

“Hey,” she cautiously greets, placing her keys down, the clanging loud in her ears, on the table and stepping further into the room, “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.”

“Belle and I are going to dinner. Why do you have a letter from Jones?”

“Huh?” she asks, trying to keep her voice steady even though her heart is beating wildly in her chest, the sound louder than it has been in a long time. She can feel it all the way down to her toes. “I have a letter?”

Will raises his eyebrow, obviously not believing her, and as casually as she can, she steps forward and takes the letter from Will, stuffing it away in the back pocket of her jeans.

“So where are you guys going for dinner?” Emma asks to change the subject.

“Eric’s place. He gives me a discount.”

“Ah, yes, because everyone wants discount fish.”

“Oi, it’s not like he’s giving us the old fish.”

“So you think. If you guys die in a few days, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“We’ll be dead, and you’ll be bragging about it.”

“Exactly.” She steps around Will and sits down on the couch, reaching down to unlace her boots and kick them off. “I guess I’ll miss you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Emma,” Belle shouts, and Emma leans her head back to look down the hall to see Belle standing in the hallway, “can I borrow those teal heels that you wore last week?”

“Yeah, they’re in my bathroom.”

Belle doesn’t say anything back, but less than a minute she comes into their living room wearing the teal heels and a little black dress, fluffing out her hair over her shoulders while Will grabs his coat off the chair, stepping up to her and kissing her cheek, whispering something that Emma doesn’t pick up on, which is good. It’s private, and she doesn’t need to hear things about their private life.

Her hearing thing has been wonky lately anyways. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

“We probably won’t be back until late,” Belle tells her, and Emma reaches her hand up over the couch to let Belle grab onto it. “Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

“Nah, you two go have fun. Don’t do anything that I’ll have to investigate.”

“Well, that just takes all of the fun away.”

After the two of them leave, she leans up on the couch and pulls the later out of her back pocket, hoping that Will forgets about it and doesn’t mention it to Belle, and quickly opens the sealed envelope, her nerves running over every inch of her skin and making her fingers shake the slightest bit as she straightens the creases out of the paper.

Emma,

I apologize for my late reply, but you seem to have caught me at a bad time. I had a client call and request a refurbishment on his seafaring vessel (his words, not mine), and I’ve been consumed with it. I love this job. It’s a way to keep me connected to the ocean, a place where I spent so much of my life, but this is different. And it certainly didn’t help that my wrist decided to act up a bit this week. It’s the weather and all.

Regardless, I do wish you would have told me your most embarrassing story. I feel like it’s a real ice breaker, and I love karaoke....if I’m drunk. But then again, bad things seem to happen when I’m drunk. So wine? That’s your vice? I always took you more as a tequila or whiskey type, but then again, I’m learning that I know very little about you, love. Though, I like that it’s changing a bit, if I may be so bold.

Jane Austen is bloody brilliant, and it’s nice to hear of someone else appreciating her. Mr. Darcy and I have a lot in common, you know? I, too, screw up with strong-willed women and then have to realize the error of my ways to have them allow me back into their lives. Or, at least, I hope. Tell me, if you’re a fan of historical romances, how are you not a fan of letter writing when that is such a core piece of the story? Is it simply that you don’t like modern day letter writing because it, for practical reasons, doesn’t make any sense? We could have had this entire conversation in ten minutes, but it’s taken eight days. Yet, this is a bit more fun, even though talking to you does incite other kinds of fun.

As to my middle name, it’s my mother’s maiden name. My father’s name is Brennan, and the only thing I carry from him is the Jones name, which is likely a good thing. He wasn’t a good man. He was a drunk, and he abandoned us when I was ten. I’m proud to be a Jones because of my brother and my mum, so like you, I suspect that my last name carries a weight that most don’t.

Anyways, that’s much too much information about me. Tell me, Swan, there’s a Summer Regatta coming up in two weeks. Do you think you’ll be at the festival? I know someone who can get you a free ride on a boat.

Killian.

He’s got a screwed up family too.

That’s what she gets out of all of that. It’s not that he loves the same books that she does, not that he correctly guessed her drinking vices, not that he practically invited her to be his date to the regatta in over Labor Day weekend. It’s the fact that he has a screwed up family, a drunk deadbeat dad and a dead mom. She knew his family life wasn’t great, if only because Elsa never mentions having to take the kids to go see Liam’s parents.

Huh.

She can kind of see it now, can see that he is a bit of an orphan too, and even though he had parents, it breaks her heart. No one should ever have to grow up without having people love them, and she’s thankful that Killian had Liam and their mom. That’s a nice thing for them to have a family, even if it’s not what most people would call complete.

Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s the fact that she suddenly understands Killian in a way that she knows only a few people can, but she pulls out her phone and lets her fingers move without thinking about it too much.

Emma: So not a fan of karaoke then? Is your voice that bad?

The three dots pop up almost immediately after she presses send only for them to disappear, only coming back every few seconds. He’s either trying to think of what to say or realized that he’s texting back incredibly fast. It’s nice to know some things never change.

Killian: For someone who is incredibly attracted to my voice, that’s a bold thing for you to suggest.

Emma: Touché.

Emma: So it’s not bad then?

Killian: I’ve been told that it’s actually pretty good, but I find that karaoke does nothing but bring embarrassment unless you’ve been drinking all day.

Emma: Okay, but say you have…what’s your go-to song?

Kilian: Easy. Anything Elton John. He’s so easy to understand.

Emma: You’re kidding, right?

Killian: Nope.

He definitely has to be kidding.

Emma: I figured you’d be more of a Queen or Beatles guy. I’m pretty partial to Queen.

Killian: Well, I could do those too. Or pretty much anything from the eighties. I feel old, but I don’t know a lot of the new songs.

Emma: That’s because you are old.

Killian: Being older than you doesn’t make old. And as you can tell, I’ve retained my youthful glow.

Emma: Sure, we’ll call it that.

She takes another sip of her wine and turns the volume up a bit on the television so that she’s not simply staring at her phone waiting for him to text her back. That’d be pathetic. Then again, she’s sitting at home drinking wine and watching the History Channel while her roommate is out on a date. That could be considered pathetic. Or very, very smart depending on who is asked.

Killian: What are you up to tonight, love?

Emma: Watching Drain the Ocean, though I’ll be honest and say I have no idea what’s going on.

Emma: You?

Killian: The same, actually.

Emma: Creepy.

Killian: Believe it or not, I think we have similar taste in television shows.

Emma: Ugh, I know. I can’t believe I have so much in common with an old man.

Killian: If you keep flattering a man like this, he might get the impression that you like him.

Emma: Never.

Emma: At least we don’t like the same foods. Unless you secretly like junk food.

Killian: I enjoy certain kinds, but I don’t think I have the same propensity for grilled cheese, onion rings, and bear claws like you do.

Emma: I also like poptarts and brownies. Oooh and lots of icing.

Killian: You’re a child.

Emma: Oh, come on. You don’t like icing?

Killian: If there’s cake attached, yeah.

Emma: No, no. You’ve got this all wrong. Straight out of the can.

Killian: You also eat raw cookie dough, don’t you?

Emma: Duh.

Killian: I do like cookies, though. And mostly pastries that involve fruit. It makes it all feel a little healthier.

Emma: You’re in shape. I think you’ve got the healthy thing down.

Killian: I knew you liked staring at my ass.

Emma: I said nothing about your ass.

Killian: Just my general body then? The abs? The biceps? My collarbone? What about my left ankle? You’re into period romances. I bet the left ankle really does it for you.

“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself, putting her glass down on the coffee table and standing from the couch, smiling to herself as she reads the message and walks to the kitchen. He’s such an idiot.

Such an idiot.

And now she really wants something sweet to eat, so she presses up on her toes and gets a can of chocolate icing out of the pantry popping open the top and grabbing a spoon out of the drawer so she can at least be a little civilized about the whole thing. Without putting much thought into it, she holds the spoon full of icing up to her mouth and takes a quick picture, not checking to see what she looks like before sending it to Killian.

Emma: See? This is the way to eat sweets.

The three dots pop up before they disappear just like before, and she doesn’t really have time to think about it before the front door is swinging open and Belle is walking inside, an obviously bright red flush on her pale cheeks.

“I’m engaged,” she squeals, holding her left hand up as she walks into the apartment, a small diamond ring resting there.

“What?” Emma gasps, nearly choking on her icing before she puts the spoon and the container down, running her tongue over her teeth to wipe up all of the excess icing. “You’re engaged?”

“Yes! Will asked at dinner. Oh my gosh. You know, I always swore I wouldn’t be one of those girls, but I did the thing where I put my hands over my mouth when he got down on one knee.”

“Of course you did,” she laughs, reaching forward and wrapping Belle up in a hug, squeezing her as tightly as she can while she sees Will walk into the apartment, bags of takeout in his hands and a smile on his face that tells Emma he’s just as happy as Belle is. Good. They deserve all of the happiness. “I’m so damn happy for you. Both of you.”

“And you’ll be so much happier when you know that I brought you earplugs for tonight,” Will tells her when she hugs him.

“That is so gross.”

“I’m simply trying to be helpful.”

“Babe,” Belle laughs, walking over to the two of them and leaning into Will to press a kiss into his cheek, “stop grossing Emma out and give me five minutes to tell her what happened before we can let her put the earplugs into use.”

“Nope, nope, no,” she refuses, putting her hands in the air, “you guys just go. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Perfect.”

“Please ignore him.”

“I promise you I’m trying.”

Will and Belle go back to their room, and she takes the opportunity to grab her phone, her icing, and plant herself in front of the television, turning to volume up so that she doesn’t have to risk hearing anything else. Tonight will probably be the night that her weird hearing thing picks up again.

She is so damn happy for the two of them, a bit of a buzz of happiness spreading over her skin, but she can’t help the little voice in her head that wonders what’s next for her if the two of them are getting married.

She hates that she thinks that.

Her phone dings, and she looks down at it, forgetting that she was texting Killian before Belle and Will came home.

How long were they texting for her friends to get engaged during that time? That’s…a lot of time. Did it really all go by that quickly? She didn’t even notice.

Killian: I mean, there’s definitely something sweet in that picture that I’d like to eat.

Emma chuckles under her breath, unable to help herself, especially when accompanying the text is a picture of him holding a banana over half of his face, the scars on his wrist and the chain around his neck visible even in the dimness of his apartment. And damn it. This was not supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.

She likes Killian Jones.

#Not Your (soul)Mate #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #Captain Swan

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spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 22 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Thanks again for all the positive feedback! We’re already at Chapter 22 and only in February. I would like to say that there isn’t going to be any more drama, but the whole ~incident~ happens in March and, of course, Boston happens in April. So…yeah. For now, at least, happy times ahead! This chapter didn’t end up AT ALL where it was supposed to go, but I’m actually happy about that. Some might call it filler (because it technically doesn’t contain any Morgan/Bee interaction) but I see it as pretty important.

Hockey Night in Canada was quickly becoming favourite night of the week, especially when the Leafs were playing at home. She had never been a hockey fan before Morgan, but now that she was – at least partly – she could feel the energy in Scotiabank Arena pulse through her veins. She could feel it outside on the streets, walking past fellow Torontonians going to watch the game at a bar, at a friend’s place, or anywhere else. She could even feel it within fellow fans, buzzing around the arena and getting close to the glass during open skate.

Tonight, in particular, was a big one – Leafs vs. Canadiens. Morgan had explained to her enough about the historic rivalry between the two teams, and even Aryne pitched in with a “Now they hate us even more because John wouldn’t grant them an interview.” The energy was palpable. And if Bee knew anything about Habs fans, it was that they were everywhere in Canada – even where you least expect it – and that they always travelled to support their team. Even tonight, in prime enemy territory, she spotted a lot of Habs jerseys. It was going to be a great Saturday night.

But right now, all she cared about were babies.

Briony loved babies. She loved them. And she loved one baby in particular: Henry Gardiner. He was the cutest, chubbiest, most perfect baby in all of Toronto and when any opportunity to hold or play with him came up, it excited her to no end. Bee wasn’t going to have babies anytime soon, so when the opportunity arose to do literally anything with babies, she was the first to volunteer. So when Bee saw Lucy had brought him to the game wearing and a cute, custom-made onesie that looked like a Gardiner jersey with hockey pants, she was over the moon.

“He was being really fussy…is being really fussy tonight,” Lucy said as she tried to bounce him in her arms.

“You want me to hold him for a bit? At least while we go down to the ice to say hi to dad?”

“Yeah, that could work,” Lucy agreed, handing her five-month-old over to Bee. “What do you think, Hank? Wanna stay with Auntie Bee?” she cooed.

Bee balanced his chubby body on her hip. He looked up at her with his big blue eyes and she almost melted right then and there. “Hi Henry! Are we gonna be best friends tonight? Are you gonna give Morgan a run for his money?”

“Henry you wanna go see Dada? Wanna go see Dada?” Lucy smiled as Henry smiled at the word ‘Dada’. Lucy slipped on his blue pair of baby headphones to protect his ears from all the noise before setting her diaper bag on the chair.

As the pair slowly made their way down the steps of the lower bowl, they eventually got to the glass in the corner, which was already surrounded by fans taking pictures of the team. They stood back for a while, watching the team skate and shoot pucks as Bee bounced Henry in her arms and pointed out all the players to him. He obviously couldn’t hear a thing, but he followed her points and let out happy noises the more she bounced him. Eventually, some fans noticed them and made way for them to go right against the glass. Bee held Henry close to the window, pointing at Jake.

Jake took a few more shots at the net before he saw them, quickly making his way over. Like clockwork, a cameraman and photographer appeared beside them and started snapping pictures of Henry and Jake smiling at each other. Bee thought it was out-of-this-world adorable, but also thought it was slightly awkward since she was neither Henry’s mom or Jake’s wife. “Maybe you should take him,” she giggled, handing back to Lucy with open arms.

“Yeah, let me hold him until they leave,” she agreed, bringing Henry a bit closer to the glass. Jake continued to smile and wave, and the fans around them practically awed in unison. Morgan came skating behind him, stopping briefly to wave at Henry and smile at what was transpiring. He pulled a silly face to try to get Henry to laugh. Instead, Henry looked at him, his little baby eyebrows furrowing, before he began to fuss and cry slightly. Jake hit Morgan and Morgan made a dramatic ‘oops’ face before winking quickly at Bee. She shook her head at him as he skated away.

“Ooookay, that’s enough of Dada and his friends,” Lucy said, trying to calm him down. “You want to go back to Auntie Bee? Seems like you liked when she held you,” she said, handing him back into Bee’s arms.

Like previously, Henry began to calm down as Bee held him and bounced him on her hip. Lucy began to thank the fans for making room for them, and as she did, Bee noticed a group of three young girls – they couldn’t have been older than 21 – recording them on their iPhones. Bee tried not to look their way or give them any mind, but when she overheard one of them say to the other, “That’s Morgan Rielly’s girlfriend,” her breath couldn’t help but hitch in her throat.

“Let’s get back to our seats before the Zamboni comes out,” Lucy said, unaware of the girls filming. “Hank’s really scared of them and Jake’s still upset about it.”

As they made their way back to their seats, they saw Aryne and waved, Penny following close behind her. They nestled into their seats – Lucy near the aisle, then Bee, then Aryne, then Penny – as Bee turned Henry to face forward to look out onto the ice, bouncing him slightly on her knee.

“Are you girls ready for a shit show?” Penny asked. “I don’t know if you saw, but Max Domi has already been chirping a few of the boys.”

The girls rolled their eyes, but Bee had no idea who Max Domi was. “Who is Max Domi?”

Penny cringed. “Don’t ask.”

Aryne looked over at her. “Max is a player on the Habs. His dad Tie used to play for Toronto from the mid-nineties to the mid-2000s,” she explained. Bee was so grateful that Aryne and the other girls were still patient enough to explain things to her. “He just crawls under people’s skin. He likes to play dirty. And ever since he got traded to Montreal and became a Hab, he’s been shitting on Toronto – literally the city he grew up in – every chance he gets.”

Bee furrowed her brows. “So you’re telling me he’s a dumbass.”

The girls burst out into laughter at Bee’s deadpan delivery. “Exactly,” Penny snorted.

“If he so much as touches one of our guys tonight I’ll go down there and fight him myself,” Lucy warned. “I haven’t slept in two days and I’m surviving on cereal and smoothies. I’m a ball of rage.”

Henry seemed content to stay on Bee’s lap during the first period, despite the constant grimacing, flailing of arms, screaming, and general scowling from the ladies. By the end of the period, the Leafs were down 3-0, and Bee got the gift of seeing first-hand what kind of a player Max Domi was. Though he hadn’t scored any of the goals, he was being an asshole, completely targeting Freddie and riling up Johnsson – of course, the referees called nothing. Bee knew she always had to be mad at the referees.

As Lucy left with Henry to change his diaper, Bee spent the intermission on her phone catching up on the day’s news events. She was pretty busy at work these days, and throughout all the meetings Mark liked to spontaneously plan and the working lunches they’d have, she wasn’t able to catch up on anything during the day like she used to be able to when she was in-between classes. She was nervous for the second period too – a lot of the fans that had made their way out into the concourse were grumbling about the lacklustre period and 3-0 score.

“The boys better make a comeback,” Aryne said almost to herself. “I’m not putting up with any gloating Hab fans, and I’m sure as hell not putting up with a gloating Max Domi.”

Bee snorted at Aryne’s words as she opened Instagram, scrolling through her feed and liking pictures. She had made it private back when Angie called her in Vancouver, but that didn’t stop people from somehow stealing her pictures – like Aryne showed her on Valentine’s Day – or stop them from trying to tag her in videos or send her DMs. The tags were relentless – every picture someone stole from her profile, they’d tag her in it again, as if they wanted her to see that they stole it. And now, there were more tags to sift through. The girls who had recorded them at the glass had of course already uploaded the video to Instagram, and it was making the rounds. She was tagged four times from four different accounts. She watched the video, and obviously it was cute because of Henry, but the girls were in prime position to catch Morgan winking at her before skating away. Perfect position. She could only imagine what people were saying about it, and she didn’t want to read the comments. Instead, she went to her Instagram DMs to clear her inbox.

So what, are you Lucy’s BFF now or something?

LMAOOOO now ur trying to get mo to have a baby with u U R PATHETIC!!!

R u pregnant

I know it’s your man’s jersey and all but it’s really doing your body no favours. Have you gained weight?

“Whatcha reeeeading?” Penny asked.

Bee sighed dramatically. “Well Penny, apparently I’m forcing Morgan to have a baby with me,” her voice was deadpan.

Penny snorted at the delivery. “Oh how I just love Instagram DMs,” she giggled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, I’m only with Will for his money.”

“Oh, of course! Morgan’s my sugar daddy!” Bee exclaimed, causing Penny to laugh even more. “These girls see one video and think I’m pregnant. It’s so weird,” she focused back on her phone.

Maybe Lucy should give you some yoga lessons so you can lose some weight. She looks better than you do and she’s had a baby.

I told u we’d find pics of u and mo. You’re not sneaky.

You guys looked really cute in Vancouver!!!!! Can’t believe you met his parents already does that mean you’re getting married?????

You and Mo are rly cute

You’d look better with a nose job and some upper lip filler. Just saying.

How kind of them to suggest a nose job and lip fillers. Like women around the world weren’t already insecure with themselves. She deleted everything, not bothering to read anymore. She deleted the list of them until she heard a crying baby, bringing her back to reality and what really mattered. When she finally looked up, she saw Lucy coming back with a crying Henry, and more fans filing back into the arena for the start of the second period.

“He is being so incredibly fussy it’s driving me insane,” Lucy’s voice was exasperated as she sat back into her seat. “The entire time he was wailing. Just wouldn’t stop crying.”

“Awww, come here my chubby prince,” Bee cooed as she took Henry from a tired Lucy’s arms. “You gotta let mommy rest. Why’re you being so fussy?”

It took a few moments, but he eventually stopped crying and settled down, again looking up at Bee with his big blue eyes. He even gave her a smile and giggled at her smiling down at him. Lucy put her hands up in dramatic frustration. “You’re like the baby whisperer tonight! Seriously!” she exclaimed in astonishment. “I can’t believe this!” She even took out her phone to snap a quick picture of Henry smiling up at Bee, and Bee smiling down at him. “You’re stuck with him the whole night if he’s going to be like this with you.”

“I’ll hold him the whole game if I have to,” Bee smiled. “I’m not joking. You want me to rock him to sleep? Tuck him into bed? I’ll do it.”

“Don’t tempt me. I might take you up on your offer.”

As the second period started, Lucy fetched Henry’s bottle from her bag, and Bee fed him. Auston scored early in the period, with Morgan getting the primary assist, and Bee hoped that the goal was a kick in the ass for the whole team to start scoring. When Tyler scored a powerplay goal near the end of the period, she was confident they would come back. And as always, Max Domi was being a pest, but because the boys were answering back, he didn’t have that much to say.

Then Willy scored in the third period to tie it and Penny went crazy. Henry fell asleep and was snug in his carrier when Zach tied it and everybody in the arena went crazy. Then the Habs got upset. Four unanswered goals. On the jumbotron, they showed Morgan and Max going back and forth, chirping one another with a body in between them, holding them apart. God, Bee hated fighting, but if Morgan had slapped the smirk off Max’s face, she would have had no problem riding him across the Pacific Ocean. She even fanned herself as the girls pointed it out to her and had a laugh about it. A fifth goal by Johnsson, getting his payback on Max. A sixth goal by Zach, again. Six unanswered goals. One hell of a comeback. Sweet sweet revenge.

This is the hockey Bee could get used to.

As fans began leaving the arena after the 6-3 win, the ladies took their own way to the locker rooms. In the elevator, Bee took out her phone and saw she was tagged in yet another photo – but this one she would definitely keep.

@lucygardiner_: Henry loves his Aunt Bee! <3 Uncle Morgan has to work on his funny face game though…

It was the photo she had taken earlier of Henry looking up at her smiling. With both of them smiling and the sea of blue jerseys behind them, it did make for a very cute picture. Bee liked it immediately and decided to comment.

@brionymctavish: Heart eyes for my chubby prince! Uncle Mo’s baby blues ain’t got nothing on Henry’s

***

“Listen, I know you have work tomorrow but can I please come over? I don’t want to watch this alone.”

Thus began the night of February 28th, the dreaded day – the day John Tavares returned to Long Island. The media had been hyping the return for days, and truth be told, Bee thought they were making a bigger deal than what needed to be made. They kept stressing the fan reaction, the videos they posted online of them burning John’s jerseys, which was absolutely ridiculous. They kept asking John annoying questions about it, and they kept asking players on the Islanders annoying questions about it. Bee wished it could all just end, but they needed to get through the game first.

Aryne showed up to Bee’s apartment with takeout Greek food. They didn’t even bother setting it up in the dining table – they just took their spots on the floor and spread everything out on the coffee table in front of the TV. Coverage was already on, and the guys on Sportsnet were blabbering on about something. Judging by the time, Bee knew the boys would be on the ice soon for the pre-game skate. She didn’t need to wonder what the reception for John would be since she was being told for an entire fucking week that it “wasn’t gonna be good”.

“Are you looking for places?” Aryne asked as she sat down on a pillow, looking at Bee’s laptop screen of apartment listings.

“Oh. Yeah,” Bee nodded her head. “I can’t live off of Naz and Ashley forever.”

“It’s not like they’re going bankrupt,” Aryne quipped.

“Yeah, but I’m earning decent money now. They can at least get the income back from leasing out this place,” she shrugged her shoulders, wanting to drop the subject. “Have you talked to John?”

Aryne nodded her head, opening the takeout container to reveal her gyro. “He’s fine. At least he seems to be. He’s seen some of his old teammates already and they caught up, which was nice.”

“That’s good,” Bee offered gently. “Does it feel weird for him being back there?”

“I don’t think so,” Aryne said. “I mean…he spent nearly ten years of his life there.” She looked at the TV and they both noticed the teams making their way on to the ice. The camera was focused solely on the Leafs. “Can you turn it up?” she asked.

The more Bee turned up the volume, the more boos could be heard. The arena wasn’t even at full capacity but they were deafening. Between keeping the focus on John, the camera also panned to people and signs in the crowd. People who had taped up their Tavares jerseys and re-wrote ‘Traitor’; people who made a sign saying ‘We don’t need you’; people standing and booing and giving the middle finger with one hand while a beer was in another. It was gross.

“How could they be so awful,” Bee said more so to herself than to Aryne. Seeing person after person with toy snakes and throwing them on to the ice was not funny. It was not amusing. This was a person that was their captain, and here they were disrespecting him and treating him like shit when he did so much for their team. Bee looked over at Aryne, who didn’t seem to blink as she watched the clown show in front of her. “We can change the channel if you want.”

“No,” Aryne answered. As much as it pained her to watch, she couldn’t. “I promised John I’d watch the whole thing no matter how bad the fans were. I’m watching it for him, not for them.” She worded it perfectly. This wasn’t about them, no matter how much they wanted to make it about them. Aryne knew that. Bee knew that.

They watched in silence as John made his way back to the tunnel. All of the sudden, something flew across the TV screen heading towards John’s head, narrowly missing him, making both women gasp in fear. They held their breath as the replay occurred, Bee’s hands over her mouth. “It’s a jersey. It’s a jersey,” she said quickly, noticing the colours on the object being thrown. The distinct blue and orange couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

When she looked over at Aryne, she could see tears welling in her eyes. “Aryne…Aryne it’s okay,” she said, crawling over to her side of the table before giving her a quick hug. “It didn’t even hit him. The guy missed. It didn’t hit him.”

“Why do they hate him so much?” she asked, her voice shaky as she continued to look at the screen. “He was the backbone of that team for years. He moved there alone when he was eighteen years old to play for them and this is how they repay him?”

“Aryne, they’re being dumb. They’ve been amped up by the media and this is just theatrics,” Bee tried to calm her down.

“I don’t get it,” she shook her head. “You just…you spend nine years of your life somewhere, building your life and career, and they just turn on you at the drop of a hat…just because you want to go home. Just because you want to play for your childhood team. Because you want to be close to your family and start a family of your own,” she lamented. “My God. I don’t even know why I’m crying. This…this is definitely pregnancy hormones,” she was embarrassed as she wiped away the tears.

“It’s okay to be emotional about this Aryne,” Bee said softly, rubbing her back.

“He’s just so happy to be home, Bee. Why can’t they see that?”

“They’re blinded by their anger, but that’s not your problem,” Bee said. “He was a UFA Aryne. What was he supposed to do? Stop playing hockey just to make them happy? Play somewhere he wasn’t truly happy? Play for his childhood team when he only had a half a tank of gas left? That’s not far to him and his goals. Even if hockey wasn’t a part of it at all. He made the best decision for himself and for you both and they don’t want to see that.”

Aryne didn’t say anything. She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks before laying her head on Bee’s shoulder. After a while of silence, she finally said in a soft voice, “I think the reason I like you so much is because you just…you see things outside of hockey. Sometimes I forget what it’s like.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just have this perspective the rest of us don’t have,” she said without elaborating. “Never lose it, okay?”

The boys played like shit. They didn’t show up for one of the biggest games of the season – there was no other way to put it. They let John down. After Zach opened the scoring and got another goal taken away (because of the “offside” rule, which Bee still thought was a completely made up call), the team was sucker-punched to a 6-1 loss. It was brutal. Every time John touched the puck, the crowd booed so loudly it almost drowned out the announcers. Bee hated it. She never wanted to experience another game like this again.

This was not the hockey she wanted to get used to.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just crash here tonight? You must be exhausted,” Bee asked as Aryne was packed up to leave, taking most of her uneaten gyro with her.

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry. At this time of night the drive is nothing. Plus, John will probably call and want to talk,” she explained, putting her Styrofoam container into a plastic bag.

Bee kept ruminating over what Aryne had said to her earlier. ‘You see things outside of hockey. You have this perspective the rest of us don’t have.’ She wondered what Aryne meant by that. She knew it wasn’t super invested in hockey. She knew that Morgan had only ever played for the Leafs and he had never switched teams, been a UFA, signed an offer sheet, demanded a trade, any of that. She knew she was only getting one perspective, especially since Morgan wanted to stay a Leaf forever. Despite being from Vancouver, they were his childhood team. His dad fist-pumped on camera when the Leafs drafted him. Aryne had been through so much more than she had, yet she was the one telling Bee ‘You have this perspective the rest of us don’t have’. “Hey Aryne…” she began, unsure if she should bring it up.

“Mhmm?”

“You know…you know before…before the game started. How you said I see things outside of hockey and that I have a perspective the rest of you guys don’t have? What did you mean by that?”

Aryne stood still. “I didn’t offend you did I?”

Bee shook her head vehemently. “No no. Not at all. I just want to know what you meant. I’m wracking my brain trying to figure it out.”

“Do you promise not to hate me if I explain it?”

“I could never hate you. The only reason I could hate you is for telling me who Max Domi is.”

Aryne smiled before getting more serious. “A lot has happened to you this year, with the break-in and with your mom dying. A lot has happened to you in your life. And somehow, you’re still…it never seems to phase you. And…I don’t know. It brings me back down to earth a little bit. When I get stressed over John or hockey or whatever else, I just think about all you’ve been through and how you’ve overcome it all with such grace and a good head on your shoulders and I just think ‘Man, this girl’s got it all figured out.’”

“I don’t have it all figured out,” Bee shook her head. “Far from it.”

Aryne bit her lip. “Listen, you just prioritize the right stuff in your life. You prioritize yourself, your relationship with Mo, your job…not a lot of girls your age that we know can say the same thing. That’s why Sydney reacted the way she did when you mentioned having a career and the fact that Morgan liked you having one. A lot of people lose sight of what is supposed to matter and all they end up caring about is their boyfriend or their wedding or how they look on Instagram. But despite all this new stuff around you, all this money and all this privilege, you’ve never lost sight of what truly matters. Even the way you brush off all the DMs you get on Instagram. And I don’t want to patronize you and tell you I’m proud of you, even though I am, and I’m not saying that you’re a saint, but it makes me think about the priorities in my life,” she absent-mindedly put a hand over her baby bump. “Hockey is there but it’s John’s priority more than it is mine. I care about my husband, my family, our growing family, our friends who are like our family. And in the grand scheme of things, stuff like what happened tonight…it doesn’t matter. You get that. Somehow, without having been involved in hockey for years or without being involved in the wag lifestyle that so many girls think is an absolute dream when it’s really not…you get that.”

“I don’t know what to say Aryne.”

Aryne shrugged her shoulders. “I just think we can all learn a little from you, that’s all. Remember where our real priorities are. Because it’s not with the Chanel bags, or the gala events, or the mingling with Toronto socialites, or the Instagram feed showing off your new lip fillers and the picture perfect way your boyfriend has proposed. It’s with each other.”

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs imagines #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl playoffs #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #alone together series

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msjr0119 · 5 years

Text

Cordonian Wags

Part 8 - Match day

In a world full of Professional footballers and their demanding wives- can their football team nicknamed the ‘Cordonian Apples’ succeed? An American female physiotherapist joins the club. Will this cause issues with the footballers wives?

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @drakesensworld @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater

******

“Oh it’s so nice to see my two favourite girls here together.” Bastien said as he hugged Riley and Lindsey tightly.

“Okay. Touching family reunion. We have a match to win!” Constantine interrupted. Whilst the team looked gobsmacked at the interaction that had just taken place, Constantine stormed out with Bertrand.

Liam stood up abruptly and pulled Riley to the side.

“What was that airport stunt? And how do you know Bastien? Family reunion?”

“I’m so sorry about that Liam. My sister was coming- and after everything I just wanted time with her. But Leo fucked that up. They’ve been at it like rabbits. And Uncle Bastien is our godfather. He persuaded me to apply for the job- his job.”

Liam nodded still shocked at the revelation - both he and Riley looked over towards Leo and Lindsey and burst out laughing. Liam pulled her closer to him- it’s good to see you smile again. Liam excused himself as he saw Drake appear behind them both.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Walker. Are you ready for the match?”

“I’m in my kit- so I’d say so...Ri. We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to say. I’m over it. I got what I deserved if you are referring to what I think you are. We’re still friends. Good luck.”

Riley turned around, hoping he wouldn’t try to prevent her from walking away- she didn’t want to feel broken- hearted again. If there was chance that he and Kiara could rekindle she didn’t want to be involved. Bastien slung his arm around his goddaughter’s shoulder as they walked out of the room with Lindsey.

“Mate, she will come around. Don’t worry.” Leo pat Drake on his back after witnessing Riley’s coldness towards him.

“Right! Let’s beat these mother fuckers... ninety minutes to win it. We can do it! Then we can celebrate.”

*****

The match kicked off- Riley nervously watching along side Bastien and Bertrand. The atmosphere throughout the stadium was euphoric.

We are underway at Applewood Stadium. My name is Gary Thorpe and I have Marcus Healey along side of me. It’s an early possession for the hosts on this bright sunny day.

Three minutes in and Leo Rhys creates a head start for the apples. 1-0

Do you think Leo Rhys will share the ball with his team mates? Usually he likes it to be a one man show.

I’m not sure Gary, but it sure is a great start to the season for the apples. The striker has been in the press recently for associating with a mystery woman- but his eyes are still on the ball.

Yes, I think that everyone has read up about that. But the captain is doing a fantastic job leading his team. So let’s not allow his personal life to affect how much of a talented striker he is. Beaumont must be getting bored, the ball hasn’t been anywhere near his net as of yet. Can the rivals eventually score against the Apples?

Walker passes the ball to Liam Rhys, he shoots it... and he scores. 2-0

Walker and Liam Rhys work the ball nicely towards the net before the ball is squared towards the captain- it’s within shooting range.. he shoots but it hits the post. Disappointing.

The half time whistle has been blown. There has been no incidents as of yet, no bookings, no extra time. Let’s see if they can keep their clean sheet.

The men all headed back into the dressing room, drinking water to keep hydrated. Bertrand was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, proud that they were winning their first match. At the moment Bertrand didn’t suggest any substitutions, he reviewed their tactics and was overconfident and positive that they’ll win. The team all rested- replenishing their energy, regaining some stamina. Riley entered the room, checking each player with support from Bastien.

“How are you feeling Drake?” Riley trying to stay professional, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked even if he was covered in sweat.

“Fine.”

“Good. You were amazing out there.” She smiled at him, he noticed her eyes sparkle for the first time.

“Thanks, Ri. You’re doing a great job too.”

“She sure is- she learnt from the best.” Bastien interrupted, much to Drake’s annoyance. It was the first time she had spoken nicely to him.

“I better check on the others.”

Drake and Bastien watched her check on Zeke. Bastien noticed Drake looking sad, wondering what he had interrupted- shaking his head he pat Drake on the shoulder and helped Riley. They were all refreshed and ready to play the last 45minutes.

Second half is underway, and ‘the Apples’ take the possession again, they launch the first attack.

There’s a corner for The Apples...oh no, that was so close. They are having so many missed opportunities. I can see Leo and Liam Rhys frustrated with the rivals defence. Beaumont may as well sleep for the next 40minutes- again the rivals haven’t been anywhere close to that side of the pitch.

And Walker is down! That was a nasty tackle. Let’s hope that he isn’t going to be injured again. He’s not standing up, Leo Rhys has gestured for medical assistance.

“Shit! Drake!”

Riley ran on the pitch, Bastien shortly following to help for assistance.

“Drake? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Riley.”

“Clearly you’re not. What’s hurting? And for the record that was a dirty move. He deserves to be hurt not you.” Drake held her hand, not knowing why.

“It’s my ankle.”

Riley checked him out, she looked at Bastien for reassurance. Bastien noticed the spark in both their eyes as Riley checked his injuries. Drake lingered his hand on her- the sight of her made the pain slightly disappear.

“Drake... I think you have a slight ankle sprain. If you can stand up we can assess you properly. Abandon the rest of this match, you’ll still be able to train and play but will need some type of ankle support. Try to rest for a couple of weeks before trying that though.”

With the help from Riley and Bastien, Drake limped off the pitch. Cheers coming from the crowd. Sitting him down, Riley continued to press a cold compress on his swollen ankle.

“Second time you’ve helped me. Bet you’re fed up of being my saviour now?”

“No. I’d never get fed up....Keep pressure on it.... it may become itchy. Which will probably irritate you. I’ll keep checking on you.”

Riley returned to sit with Bastien and Bertrand, leaving Drake sitting with the subs. His eyes fixated on her rather than the match and his team mates. Every touch she made, his heart skipped a beat. He was hoping to talk to her in private after the match.

And Walker is out. Probably for the best. The medical team and physios will check on him. He is replaced, and we can restart the match.

Goal! Leo Rhys has scored a brace. What a brilliant goal. 3-0

Into injury time, can the Apples keep the clean sheet? This is a brilliant start to the season. Another great chance for the captain. Is this a hat- trick? No! So close.

And that is it Cordonia. Full time result. 3-0. The Apples definitely deserved that win. I think it’s their season this season. Can they keep up the hard work? I sure hope so.

The final whistle blew, and the team celebrated on the pitch. Returning inside they all hit the showers, and dressed in their teams suits to celebrate.

*****

Socialising with each other, Drakes eyes went wide when he saw Riley in a form fitting dress enter the room. Her hair was loose, compared to the tight ponytail she wore during the match. Excusing himself he ambled over to her.

“Do you want a drink?”

“No, thank you. How’s your ankle?”

“It’s better, thank you.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Can we talk, please?” Drake sighed, hoping she would give him a chance.

“What about?”

“You know what. Riley... I can’t get you out of my mind. The last few days without talking have been torture. I feel guilty with what Kiara did to you. I will protect you from her. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Riley was about to respond, not knowing exactly what she was about to say until she was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“Riley, you’ve grown up to be such a beautiful young woman.” Who the fuck is she?

“Mom?” Drake looked as if he had seen a ghost, and was confused as to how to she knew Riley.

“Hey, baby. I hope you’re not hurting too much.” Bianca hugged drake in a tight squeeze.

Bastien noticed the awkward silence and decided to intervene. Both Drake and Riley provided perplexed expressions towards Bianca, not knowing what was happening. As Bastien appeared, he noticed Drake stand next to Riley placing his arm secretly and hesitantly around her waist.

“It’s so nice to see you both get along. That long weekend all those years ago, you were both at each other’s throats.”

Riley and Drake looked more baffled now, jaws both agape. Wondering how much alcohol Bastien had actually consumed?

“Don’t you remember? Although you were all very young. I took you, Savannah and your mom to New York. We spent time with Riley and Lindsey and their parents.”

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #bertrand beaumont #liam rhys #leo rhys #trr bastien #trr bianca walker #trr au cordonian wags

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yellowcanna · 4 years

Text

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi) if you squint

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Status: Ongoing

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◅ PREV MAIN NEXT ▻

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CHAPTER 7

SEA OF RED (DAY 1: SUNDAY)

SLAM

The table shook from the force as Aizawa stood there, ignoring the stinging pain in his palm as he glared at the blond man sitting across from them.

“We’re leaving. Right now.” He practically growled out, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Toshinori also couldn’t believe what he had just heard. A war? Yokohama wasn’t that big, and considering the density of the population, how many innocent deaths will be involved?

“Please calm down.” Kunikida sighed, already knowing this was how the two teachers will react when he tells them Yokohama’s current situation. He couldn’t blame them. It would be abnormal if they had reacted any differently. “Regardless of how it sounded, I don’t believe your students will be put at risk.”

“How do you know that for sure?” Toshinori’s expression was grim as he regarded the man.

“At the very least, I know that the Port Mafia won’t back away from any promises. Not their boss. He guaranteed yours and your students’ safety under the condition that your Quirks are not to be used. I can’t imagine that he’s unaware of the mess that he had caused.” Kunikida explained. “That and even if you want to leave, I doubt they will let you.”

“What do you mean?” Aizawa narrowed his eyes.

"I don't know for what reason the Port Mafia would let you and your students into our city at such time, but he is a scheming man. It's unthinkable that he would do something like this without a motive. So until the end of your stay, I doubt they will listen to your request to leave."

"You know the Port Mafia boss quiet well," Aizawa noted with some irritation.

“The Armed Detective Agency currently has a peace treaty with the Port Mafia. I have met him on two separate occasions. I can at least tell you that much.”

Toshinori thought back to the Port Mafia boss he had met so long ago. The man was indeed scheming, yet despite everything, Toshinori’s instinct still told him that the man wouldn’t lie on an agreement.

“If he’s a scheming man like you said, then doesn’t that mean there’s a reason for him to invite us here? Or to be precise, our students?” Aizawa argued, though he was much calmer than he initially was when the news was dropped over their heads.

“I’m sure there is.” Kunikida leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers along the table edge. “But what will you do knowing that? This is Yokohama, you are in the Port Mafia’s territory. You are free to go to their headquarters, but you’ll be stopped before you can even get close, let alone meeting the boss himself.”

Aizawa gritted his teeth, unable to say anything to that. Even without Kunikida telling him, he knew the chances of them being able to meet the infamous Mafia boss was pretty much nonexistent.

The raven-haired man sat back down. He felt his head starting to throb just thinking of the rest of the week. For the first time in his life, Aizawa wanted to grab an electric razor and run it down a certain principal’s back. Perhaps he can consider doing some shopping later on…

“If a war breaks out…what will happen to this city?” Toshinori asked softly as he thought back to all the people he saw on the buses and the people he met fourteen years ago. What will happen to all of them?

“…Yokohama will be bathed in blood.” Kunikida replied with a heavy look. “As a general rule, the underground organizations wouldn’t attack civilians, as there is nothing to gain in doing so. The only thing they’ll achieve from that is getting the Port Mafia and government after them. However…the war this time is not only centered on Port Mafia’s successors, but also the possibility of bringing Port Mafia down. I doubt any of those organizations will care about the civilians’ safety. The government alone cannot protect Yokohama.”

“You said this time, has there been a war in Yokohama before?” Aizawa asked, sharply catching onto the man’s choice of words.

“Yes,” Kunikida didn’t bother hiding this fact from the two teachers. After all, they deserve to know what they will be dragged into. “Six years ago, in fact. We called it the Dragon's Head Conflict.”

“What happened?” Toshinori asked, feeling his heart skip a beat as he thought back to all those faces that flashed by his eyes as if it was only yesterday. Those children—all of them—were they alright? What of that businessman that bumped into him? What of that mother and daughter from the park? What of those elderly couples he met on his way to confront the Port Mafia?

“An Ability user died, leaving behind an enormous amount of fortune. Many criminal organizations with strong Ability users began a battle to claim it. The incident turned Yokohama into a bloody battlefield that lasted for eighty-eight days.” Kunikida clicked his teeth, obviously not keen on remembering the scenes of that time. “And now the Port Mafia started the Selection War. Those bastards!”

“Is that what you call it? Selection War?” Aizawa’s brows furrowed at the name they had given it.

"It's what the underground is calling it these days." Kunikida sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Those successors—who are they?” Toshinori inquired. He thought back to that young boy in bandages he met in the Port Mafia boss’s office that day…

Could it be him?

“As part of the agreement the Agency has with the Port Mafia, I am not allowed to disclose any information regarding the Port Mafia, including their members. Though there is one thing I can show you. Perhaps after seeing this, you’ll change your perspective on some things.”

With that, the blond pulled out his cellphone.

Aizawa and Toshinori thought the man was going to show them something on his phone…until his hand swiped over his screen. The two jumped up, eyes sharp and alert as the entire room began to change.

“Relax.” Kunikida’s calm voice echoed as darkness enveloped them. “I’m just turning on the television.”

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Screams and yelps resonated through the air as they were engulfed by darkness.

There were stumbling noises and sounds of chair legs scratching against the finely polished floor. There were gasps and yelps as the students bump into one another, trying to figure out why they suddenly became blind.

And then, the darkness gradually faded away, slowly letting their eyes adjust as they stood within a sea of white.

Lucy pulled her hand away from the wall, leaving behind a faint blue handprint that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She walked over, hands on her hip as she gazed down at them as if they were idiots.

Which…they probably look the part at the moment, considering how most of them had fallen flat on their butt during the moment of confusion.

“What was that?!” Ashido gapped from where she sat, having stumbled over her chair in the darkness.

“Is this your power, Lucy-san?” Uraraka looked around the pure white space, unable to tell if there were any celling or walls around this place.

"No, we're still in the shop," Lucy replied. "I just opened up the TV, that's all."

“…TV?” Midoriya blinked. What does a TV have to do with turning an entire room black and white?

“Well, I suppose I can’t blame you. I was surprised at first too.” Lucy hummed. “Although our technologies back in America were also advance, it was always for weapons. We’ve never invested in luxury things like these.”

With a wave of her hand, a screen appeared in front of her.

“Is that a hologram?!” Kaminari gapped, jaw nearly hitting the floor.

“I told you, this is just a TV.” Lucy held up both of her hands. A keyboard materialized in front of her and she began typing. “Usually they’re only installed in homes, but a lot of shops also use them to decorate their interior. The entire room is built with some sort of micro…” She trailed off, seeming to have difficulties in coming with an explanation. “…Just think of this entire room as a projection—or virtual reality—whatever you want to think.”

“Then what about that other TV? The one from before?” Kirishima asked, stepping forward only to yelp as he fell against something, making loud clattering noises. To the other students, the blond looked extremely dumb standing there with his waist bent at a perfect ninety-degree. His arms were spread out wide and his face was smeared against an invisible object supporting his upper body.

“The table’s still there! If you break any you’re paying for them!” Lucy snapped.

The blond mumbled a weak apology.

“Your TVs are called Framed TV here. You can’t expect people to watch the outside channels with this kind of TV, can you?” Lucy retorted as if that was a no-brainer.

The white room changed once more and in a blink of an eye, class 1-A found themselves in the middle of a road. They couldn’t see the sky at all, as everything was covered in green mist. The entire street looked abandoned, with cars smashed into one another as if there had been a huge traffic accident no too long ago. Even one of the lamp posts was knocked over.

There wasn’t a single soul around. Not on the street, and certainly not in those crashed vehicles. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of sound. The only indication that time was even moving in this place was the eerie green fog shifting around them.

“What is this place?” Aoyama whimpered, face as green as the mist as he nervously looked around. He let out a rather loud sneeze, shivering as he rubbed his arms up and down for warmth. "And is it just me or is it cold?"

“Gero, it feels moist too.” Asui stared down at her hands. She could feel her pores opening up just to absorb the extra moisture in the air.

“Ah…that's just the AC and sprinklers," Lucy replied. “The room will create effects to replicate everything happening within the footage to make it seem more realistic.”

“It’s real enough as it is…” Sato muttered.

“Tokoyami-kun, will you be alright?” Shouji asked attentively as Tokoyami gave a shaky nod. The boy was still reeling from the sudden, unexpected exposure to pure darkness. Thankfully it had only lasted a short moment. At least right now, there were still light sources around, so he was fine.

“Hey, look at—ouch!” Kaminari fell over again, presumably tripping over someone’s fallen chair.

“I told you to watch it!” Lucy shouted.

“Sorry!” Kaminari rubbed his sore knees as he pointed at the cars. “There’s no one inside, but look at that.”

Everyone looked towards the nearest car. The seatbelt in both the driver and passenger seats were buckled. There was a spilled cup of coffee in the driver seat and a phone in the passenger seat.

It was as if the people in that vehicle suddenly vanished into thin air in the middle of driving down the road.

“Where is this place?” Tokoyami looked around before he spotted something across the street. It was hard to see through the darkness and mist, but his eyes were sharper than the rest of his classmates and immediately recognized the building.

“That’s…!”

“Everyone, you might want to see this!” Shouji called, having followed Tokoyami’s gaze and saw it as well. The rest of the class glanced over to where Shouji was pointing. It took some time, but eventually, they recognized what that building was.

“Isn’t that the library we were just at?” Midoriya gasped in shock.

“Yes. What you’re seeing right now is the Yokohama from one month ago.” Lucy replied calmly. "You guys wanted to know more about the Port Mafia right? I'm showing it to you right now. A month ago, all Ability users inside Yokohama were attacked.”

“Attacked?!” Kirishima gasped.

“Was it a Villain?!” Hagakure asked with worries.

“We don’t have Villains.” Lucy rolled her eyes. What’s with these kids and their automatic responses to Villains? “One night, I woke up and the entire city was covered in green fog. It was too quiet, so I went out and look around. Everywhere I go, the street was empty just like this one. I walked around but I couldn’t find anyone.”

The group swallowed hard as if they were listening to some horror stories.

“Then, one moment I was in the street, the next I was in Anne's chamber."

“What do you mean by that?” Iida’s eyebrows furrowed. From how the older girl had explained, it sounded as if her Ability activated without her consent.

“This weird fog made all ordinary people disappeared, leaving behind only Ability users," Lucy explained. "This fog was created by an Ability user with the power to separate us from our Abilities, giving our Abilities physical form. Everyone trapped in this fog was forced to fight against our own Ability. Basically, we're made to fight as normal humans against something not human. If we can't win, we'll be killed.”

A shiver ran down the student's spines as they took in the news. They have never heard of anything like it…nor did they dare to think about it. After all, how does a normal person fight against something like that? It was better for those who have supportive Quirks, but the destructive ones? They’ll die!

To Midoriya, this news also brought back memories of before his encounter with All Might. He remembered those bitter times, the despair he felt every single time someone reminded him of how he could never become a Hero because he didn’t have Quirk. Because a normal human being could never fight against someone with a Quirk…it just wasn’t possible.

“How did you do it?” Midoriya asked, his voice hush yet it successfully reached the girl.

"I didn't," Lucy replied, grinding her teeth in frustration at the memory. “I was only fortunate that my Ability is weak and wasn’t made for killing. The only way for my Ability to kill me was to strangle me to death. All I did was close my hands around my neck and held it out.” She said as she put her hands around her neck to show them what she did at the time.

That was when the students paid attention to the white bandages wrapped around her hands. They noticed her bandaged fingers before, but none of them thought much of it. At the time they were too busy fighting the older girl, then afterward they were too entranced by the stories the girl would tell them.

Now, with her hands lifted to her neck, the bandages perfectly mapped out the exact area of invisible hands trying to snap her neck off.

"Y-you're hands…!" Yaoyorzu brought her hands to her mouth, staring at the redhead’s fingers in horror.

“Oh, my bones were crushed from that time.” Lucy shrugged. Shrugged.

None of them know what to say, or how to react. They couldn’t even begin to imagine how Lucy must have felt, trapped inside her own dimension, completely alone and hopeless—yet she somehow endured it through.

And now, she was retelling them like it wasn’t a big deal.

“I told you before how ordinary people live a different life than us, right? Any houses and streets that were destroyed during this battle, the government covered it up with lies. Gas explosion, chemical hazard…whatever that sounds believable. After that, they will quickly reconstruct the destroyed part of the city and compensate the people for their losses. Those ordinary people never knew what had happened that night.”

“That’s…” Midoriya wasn’t sure how he felt about it. When Lucy had told them this at first, he just found it amazing how two worlds can co-exist together without interfering with one another. But now, it just sounded…unfair. Don't ordinary people have the right to know? What if they died because they were dragged into it? Would the government cover that up with lies as well?

And Ability users…to live in a world like this yet the people that walked by them had no idea to the danger they were exposed in...it sounded lonely.

“What happened next?” Uraraka asked softly.

“Well, the Port Mafia defeated this guy that created the mist and the people that survived got their Abilities back.”

“Port Mafia?!” Kirishima gasped.

“I’ve only heard about this from other Ability users afterward," Lucy explained. "I don't know the details, but there's a rumour going around saying that the ones that killed him were the Port Mafia boss's successors."

“Do you have pictures of them we can look at?” Midoriya asked hopefully.

“No, it’s impossible to find any video or pictures of them. That’s why I’m showing you this. It’s the closest thing I have.”

“This video?” Jirou looked around this place.

“This was taken with a tracking-cam—the camera that recorded all this.” Lucy waved a hand at their surroundings. “There were a lot of videos regarding this incident in the underground site, but this one went viral the moment it was posted.”

Lucy clapped her hands, and the world began to move.

They could hear the loud panting sound of a male against their ears, but no matter where they looked, they couldn’t find the source of the voice. They soon realized that this panting sound must be from the person recording this.

A loud, deafening roar shook the land, causing ringing in their ears as alarms went off in their heads. All of their hairs stood on its roots as the kids looked around, heart beating as they tried to find the source of that inhumane roar.

Everything felt so real that none of the remembered how this was all fake.

A blast of wind shot up from their feet and all of a sudden, they were flying towards the sky.

“KYAAAA!” Aoyama screamed, having fallen on his butt as he clenched onto the nearest leg he could find, which was Sato’s.

“Shut up, it’s just a video!” Bakugou shouted.

“AAAAAH!” Mineta joined in the screaming, having come back to his senses just as they were blasted into the sky. “W-what’s going on?! Why the heck are we in the sky?!”

“It must be this person’s Ability!” Midoriya shouted through the howling wind, being one of the rare ones to keep steady despite how everything around him was trying to indicate that they were airborne.

“Well, yeah, but…!” Kaminari wasn’t able to finish as another roar pounded against their eardrums. For a second they thought their hearts were going to stop.

It felt like forever before they emerged from the thick clouds of mist and into the night sky opened up before them.

The whistling of wind softened as their surroundings eased to a slow stop. Instead of relief, the kids' faces became drained of blood as they stared at what was in front of them.

In the distant, emerging from the thick green mist was a crimson creature.

That gigantic jaw parted, revealing sharp rows of teeth as that familiar roar along with pressure they’ve never felt before sent them collapsing onto their knees, unable to keep standing in the face of a foe that was impossible to beat…

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Toshinori’s lips trembled so hard that he had to grit his teeth and put a hand over his mouth to compose himself.

Aizawa was doing no better. His hands were rolled into tight, quivering fists as he stared at the thing below them.

The giant dragon slowly lifting its head out of the sea of green fog and let out an ear-shattering roar.

“The government called this the Dragon Breath Incident.” Kunikida explained. “That dragon was the result of the combination of all Abilities the Ability user—Tatsuhiko Shibusawa—has collected.”

Toshinori felt a bead of sweat rolled down his face. It was just a recording, but even if it wasn’t real, he could feel the pressure rolling off the dragon. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he stood in front of the real thing.

Even in his prime, Toshinori knew he would not be able to defeat this. Not a monster this size. No, he can’t even call it a monster.

This was a catastrophe.

And what’s more…this was just a month ago? How was Yokohama still standing? He hadn't seen anything that indicated a huge battle like this had taken place in such a short amount of time.

The world around them suddenly changed.

Instead of being in the sky looking down at the dragon, they were suddenly standing in the interior of a plane. The hatch was open, revealing the full moon and the thick green mist blanketing the city.

Standing before all that was a lone figure dressed in nothing but black.

He was a very slender man. His back was turned to them so they couldn’t see his face, but from those black suits and fedora—as well as the posture of his stance—he seemed very young. He stood before the open hatchet, hands tucked in his pockets as the wild wind blew around him.

On the man’s left wrist, there was an object flickering silvery light into their eyes every time the wind blew it into the right angle. When both teachers looked closely, they realized that the thing around the man’s wrist was a handcuff.

It looked new—the silver of the handcuff was polished so fine that it shone brighter than everything else on this aircraft. The handcuff had no chain, nor did it have another cuff that was supposed to come in pair with it.

It was an...unusual sight. Just as Toshinori and Aizawa began to wonder if this was a convict that just broke out of jail, a voice spoke against their ears.

“Are you really going?” It was a woman’s voice.

When they didn’t see another person, Toshinori and Aizawa guessed that either this camera—however it worked—recorded the scene around her or she was later edited out of this video.

Looking through the hatch, the two U.A teachers could see the crimson body snaking out of the mist as another mighty roar echoed across the sky.

“It’s no use!” The girl raised her voice firmly. “It’s an Ability against a human. That thing is a monster beyond human comprehension. If you get too confident and fight it…you’ll die.”

Both men could hear the urgency in the woman’s voice despite how well she tried to control it. Unknowingly, both of them were holding their breaths as they stared at the shadow of the man standing before the moon.

The man, without ever turning to look behind him, said this; “That’s not a reason to chicken out and go home.”

His voice was calm and smooth as if the subject they were discussing wasn't his potential death. If anything, he sounded more like a tired employee complaining about work.

“Do you know when it’s alright to chicken out and go home?”

There was no immediate response, but with how realistic their surroundings were, Toshinori and Aizawa were able to feel the tension. It felt as if they were really there when the recording took place. Although they couldn’t see the woman, they could hear the soft sound of her breaths carried to their ears by the wind and feel her struggles to come up with the right answer.

“…I do not,” She finally said.

The man didn’t show any reaction to that, as if he already knew this was her answer.

“There is no such time.” He replied calmly.

With that, the man dashed forward and jumped out of the plane without an ounce of hesitation.

Toshinori jumped forward, ignoring the clattering sound chair getting pushed away as he stared, eyes gleaming in awe as the camera changed once more, going back to the outside as they watched the man disappeared into the green mist, only to re-emerge with pieces of broken concretes.

Debris hovered all over the air, creating a platform that the man used as he dashed towards the dragon.

“What is that power?” Aizawa muttered, never once taking his eyes away from the scene. His eyes were very much mirroring Toshinori’s. At this moment, they were both feeling the same thing towards this unknown man.

It was the most common gaze a Hero would usually show another Hero—respect.

“...It’s gravity manipulation.” Kunikida replied after some thought. It was as if he was trying to judge whether or not such a small piece of information would go against the treaty with the Port Mafia.

Neither Toshinori or Aizawa missed how carefully he was threading this matter. The two teachers turned back to the battle between a man and a dragon.

They watched as both sides fired their attacks. Despite being so different in sizes, the reddish orb the man threw out apparently has the same power and force as the dragon. When both attacks collided, they mingled and merged, turning into a blue explosion that turned everything into white before their views suddenly changed.

Now, they were looking at the battle from an even further distance. Toshinori and Aizawa knew that the previous camera got destroyed by that blast. From a much further distant, they could see the explosion better…except it wasn’t an explosion like they thought it would be. There was no smoke and fire from the explosion. There was just the blinding orb of light, denigrating everything it touched as it expanded.

And then, as if out of energy, the blast began to shrink smaller and smaller until it vanished out of existence.

“What—!” Before Toshinori could finish whatever he had intended to say, a loud sound brought their attention downward as a…a skyscraper emerged out of the heavy mist.

The two stared, dumbfounded by the sight.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

BAM

The sound of concrete smacking against the head of the dragon made all the students jolted.

BAM

When the building smacked the dragon again, all of their jaws had met the ground.

When that building was being shoved down the creature’s throat, words could not describe anything of what they were feeling anymore.

It was amazing—no, more than just amazing!

Since they were so far away, they couldn’t see too clearly, but that black silhouette in the distance fighting with the dragon was definitely a person!

They all sat on the floor, staring into space despite how the room had long returned to normal after the video ended.

Lucy stood in front of the stupefied kids, waiting for them to snap out on their own.

She waited for one minute…then two…then…

“HEY!” She barked after five full minutes.

The kids nearly jumped out of their skins as they looked around, having no idea when the room had gone back to normal.

“Lucy-san, that was…?” Midoriya trailed off, not sure how to describe it.

“That person you saw fighting that dragon is one of the Port Mafia.” Lucy had expected some response to that, but when she got none, she looked down to see all of these kids looking to be in some sort of deep thought.

“So…that person was one of the successors?" Iida asked calmly, much to Lucy's surprise. She had expected bigger responses, but then again, it was no surprise these kids would think that way.

"No." Her response was short and simple. She waved her hand, bringing up another holographic screen as her bandaged swiftly glided over the keyboards. “I don’t know too much about the Port Mafia, but there is a saying around here. Those who oppose the Port Mafia will be crushed by vicious gravity.”

“Gravity?” Uraraka’s eyes widened in shock. Just as the brunette opened her mouth to ask, Lucy spun the holographic screen around, revealing a long list filled with the items they had ordered since arriving in the café—minus the Daifuku and cup of tea of course.

She held up her right hand as a credit card machine appeared out of nowhere and fell into her waiting palm.

“Card or cash?”

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

The fight was completely one-sided.

From the beginning, there was no competition at all. Although they had no idea what happened after the dragon exploded—the man had won.

“Kunikida-san, who was he?” Toshinori had to know. He could feel his heart racing in amazement as well as respect for the man. When the other blond gave him a pointed look, the ex-Hero remembered what Kunikida had said about the Agency’s treaty of keeping silent.

Perhaps he looked a bit too dejected, for that Kunikida’s eyes softened and said, “I’m sure you can guess what position a person of his caliber would be.”

It was a hint.

With zero knowledge of Abilities or the Port Mafia, Toshinori and Aizawa couldn’t fathom what position this man would be within the world’s largest criminal organization. If Kunikida had told them that he was just a low ranked grunt within the organization, they would find it extremely hard to believe, but may still take his word for it.

By saying what he had said, Kunikida was hinting them that this man was very high up in rank. High up, but not yet the boss. That can only mean that he was someone in an important position close to the boss.

“The Port Mafia guards their secrets close. The only reason I am able to show you that video was because similar videos of this battle have been circulating the internet. The Port Mafia made no move to take it down, so it’s the only safe material I can use without violating our treaty.”

Kunikida leaned forward with his hands laced together on the table. He stared at the two teachers in front of him seriously.

“In a battle against that man, how do you think you will fare?”

How?

Against a battle with that?

Toshinori didn’t involve himself in this conversation. After all, he can no longer fight, despite how much he wished to test out his strength with that man, to see just how far apart they were.

Aizawa’s thought process was different than his companion’s. After all, if he could erase that Ability then there may be a chance…

“I know about your Quirk, Aizawa-san.” Kunikida cut in, as if knowing what the other male was thinking. “You are thirty-one this year. The legal age for Heroes to begin their career is eighteen. Let’s say you’ve begun at that time, you will have thirteen years of experience in combat.”

Aizawa stared at the man, wondering where he was getting at.

“In Yokohama’s underground, there are no children—especially Ability users.”

Toshinori’s eyes widened as he instantly understood where Kunikida was getting with this. After all, he had experienced that harsh truth first hand.

“The moment they are born, they are thrown into the world and have to fend for themselves. It’s a battle of survival for them. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say an actual thirteen years old would have the same amount of experience as you. Only idiots would fully rely on their Abilities, and the Port Mafia got no such idiots. Even if you are capable of erasing their powers, I can tell you that you will die.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. If he was capable?

“You may have years of experience fighting against Villains, but unlike Villains, the criminals in Yokohama are trained professionals. Combat, stealth, assassination—these are the basic skills required for even the lowest rank within the Port Mafia. Above that, all of them have remarkable marksmanship—and you’ll find that firearms are extremely common here in Yokohama. As far as I understand, you are not bulletproof nor do you possess the speed to dodge them.”

As much as Aizawa didn’t want to admit, Kunikida was right. Against trained professional, his self-taught style was indeed lacking in many aspects—mainly because his fighting style was created for capturing his targets, not kill.

“Kunikida-san.” Aizawa looked up at the man. “You said if my Quirk works…”

Toshinori looked up in surprise, having not caught that small detail, unlike the raven. Both teachers stared at Kunikida who opened up his notebook and took out his pen.

“Use your Quirk on me, Aizawa-san.”

Aizawa looked at Kunikida, then slowly to the notebook in his hand. He closed his eyes briefly to moisten his painfully dried eyeballs before snapping them open as his hair fluttered into the air. Crimson light gleamed within his eyes as Kunikida who began to write something into his booklet. When he tore out a page, blue rings of light wrapped around the piece of paper and in a blinding light, a small teddy bear appeared in the man’s hand.

The blond set the toy onto the table and gently closed his notebook.

“This is my Ability: Doppo Poet.” He explained. “I can materialize anything I write within my notebook. However, the object itself cannot be larger than the page. Do you understand now, Aizawa-san? Your Quirk does not affect Ability users."

Toshinori stared at the bear in disbelieve. He was watching from the sideline and knew for certain that Aizawa had activated his Quirk. So how?

“Could it be?!” Toshinori snapped up as the answer suddenly came into his mind.

“So that’s it,” Aizawa remembered back to the quick lesson Nezu had given them on the differences between Ability and Quirk.

“…Abilities are different. These powers were not created through gene.”

“My Quirk stops the genes that make up another Quirk, but Abilities are not part of the genes.”

“Yes.” Kunikida nodded, confirming his theory. “Quirks that affect other Quirks cannot work on Abilities. Likewise, Abilities that affect other Abilities will not work on Quirks.”

“Kunikida-san,” Toshinori cut in, “what are Quirk and Ability?”

“…To this day and age, we still haven’t found the answer behind the existence of Abilities. However, I can tell you how Quirk came to be.” Kunikida leaned back. He looked like he was ready to tell a very long story when a ringing sound filled the room.

“Excuse me,” He stood up and pulled out a phone from his pocket. He didn’t leave like the two teachers thought he would and just picked up the call right in front of them.

“What is it?” That was the first thing he said, no greetings or anything. Whoever was on the other side, they must be close.

Toshinori and Aizawa couldn’t hear anything, but whatever the person on the other end was saying, it can’t be good considering how Kunikida’s face was getting redder and redder until veins stuck out from his forehead.

CRACK

The lens of his glasses cracked.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

At the same time, the door suddenly opened, revealing the secretary who jumped from the outburst she had walked into.

“Kunikida-san.” She called hesitantly, holding out a white envelope with a scarlet wax seal on it. “I found this letter stuck on the door. It’s addressed to you.”

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

“Thank you so much, Lucy-san!”

The group stood outside of the café, bowing respectfully towards the red-haired girl standing by the doorway.

“Yeah, yeah, try to stay out of trouble.” The girl huffed, arms crossed over her chest as she stared down at them. Now that they were outside, they had to put back on their disguise. Lucy briefly wondered if these kids were even aware of how ridiculous they looked.

Then, green eyes narrowed into a malicious glare directed at a certain three-foot tall boy cowering behind Kaminari.

"If I catch you again, you are staying with Anne for the rest of your life, you hear me?!"

“Y-yes!” Mineta squeaked as he trembled even harder. As if he’ll ever gawk up this girl again!

“Thank you, Lucy-san!” Midoriya thanked her once more. Despite everything that had happened, the girl turned out to be very generous with them.

"Stop by before you leave," Lucy grumbled. “I’ll prepare some souvenirs you can take with you outside.”

“Really?” Yaoyorozu gasped with stars in her eyes.

“Gero!” Asui croaked happily.

"That's awesome! Thank you!" Hagakure cheered.

“Thank you so much!” Iida shouted off the top of his lungs, earning him funning looks from passing people.

“Now get out of here,” Lucy made a shooing motion with her hand as she turned to walk back into the café. “I still have a mess to clean up.”

With that, the door closed, leaving the kids with smiles on their faces.

“She was scary at first, but now she’s so nice!” Ashido squealed as they began heading down the street.

“Let’s just be thankful that she’s not mad anymore.” Ojiro sighed in relieve.

“All thanks to Mineta-chan.” Asui gave Mineta a sideways glance. Now that the petite boy was out of shock, Iida took it upon himself to give the boy a proper lecture.

“But Abilities sure are strong…to make a whole new dimension like that and even stopping time...what exactly is it?” Jirou pondered.

“Lucy-san’s power is amazing, but more than that, the video we saw…” Yaoyorozu said as silence fell over the students. Even Iida paused in the middle of his rant to think of that as well.

Yes, they hadn’t forgotten about that video. They don’t think they’ll ever forget something like that for as long as they live. To think such large scale battle had happened so close to them…and yet the entire world remained oblivious.

It didn’t matter if it was the man or dragon. Both sides were displaying powers beyond their wildest imaginations. On top of that there was also that strange Ability to make all normal people disappear from the entire city—separating the powers from the Ability users and making it go against the owner…it was unimaginable.

At that moment, during the battle between the human and dragon, one question crossed all of their minds.

Can they beat that?

They didn’t even need to think twice to answer.

No, they can’t.

“Lucy-san mentioned gravity…that power was gravity, wasn’t it?” Uraraka mumbled as she replayed the images within her head.

“Hey! Maybe that means Uraraka can one day pick up a skyscraper!” Kaminari joked, only to be kicked in the shin by Jirou.

“Sorry…” The boy groaned.

Uraraka smiled weakly as her gaze dropped to the ground. She knew—they all knew—that she will never be able to do that. She doesn’t have nor will she ever have that kind of power.

“If that person is in Port Mafia, what position would they be?” Midoriya couldn’t help but wonder.

“Of course it’s gotta be the Mafia boss! Look at that power!” Ashido announced her conclusion without even needing a second to think over it. Everyone easily agreed on that, because it was the only explanation behind all that power.

“Hey Bakugou, lighten up," Kirishima said as he fell to pace with Bakugou who was strolling at the rear of the group. The only response he got was a sharp glare before Bakugou was looking elsewhere again, deep in thought.

Todoroki glanced back curiously before the guys began teasing him over that free Daifuku and tea again.

They ventured down the street like a group of excited kids on a field trip—which would be what people see if half of them didn’t look like they were on the run from law enforcement.

After minutes of aimless walking, they eventually got tired. Those who were forced to wear more clothing than normal were sweating yet unable to take anything off. The sun was already setting when they came across the gate to a park. They had no idea where they were, but seeing how there wasn't anyone around, they decided to go into the park for a short break.

There were no pavements or signs inside the park, just a small dirt pathway leading them inside.

Having not met another soul as they walked into the forest, Hagakure and Ashido pulled down their scarfs and let out exaggerated gasps for air. The two girls were at the center of the group, so that the moment any of them detected another person coming, they would have time to put their disguises back on.

Since it was only early in autumn, the leaves were still green. However, as they entered deeper and deeper into the forest, they began to notice red Japanese maples mixing within with the green foliage. The crimson leaves were a sharp contrast against the lush green, making them extremely eye-catching.

None of them paid attention at first. But the further they walked, more and more red maples began to appear.

Before they knew it, the greens were all dyed in red.

The narrow dirt path was gone. In its place were fallen red leaves covering the ground like a grand carpet.

“Wow…” Midoriya couldn't help but stare in awe at the sight.

“It’s so pretty!” Uraraka reached up to brush her finger over a red maple leaf hanging over her head.

“Gero! Over there!” Asui pointed at something growing next to a maple tree.

It was a blood-red flower with vibrant green stalk.

“This is a spider lily!” Yaoyorozu hurriedly crouched down beside it. She carefully ran her finger over the delicate petal, a bright smile blossoming over her face as she admired its beauty.

“It’s so pretty!” Ashido swooned, joining the ponytailed girl in admiring the flower.

“There’s one over there too!” Hagakure waved frantically, pointing her gloved finger at another one just a bit further from them.

“Let’s keep on going, maybe there’s more!” Kaminari suggested.

The group immediately agreed.

It was just like Kaminari said.

The deeper they went into the park, more spider lilies began to appear. However, none of them had expected just how much there actually were.

The group came to a dead end.

They stood in the sea of flowers and gaze out to the open sea as the salty breeze caressed their faces. The sound of waves created a soothing melody in the air. The burning red sun was slowly sinking into the ocean, turning the water into a sea of fire. All around them were clustered fields of spider lilies with the crimson Japanese maple in the background.

It was as if their entire world had been dyed in red, as it was all they could see.

It was a gorgeous, breathtaking sight like nothing they’ve seen before.

At the same time, it also felt very ominous.

“Guys…wanna get out of here?” Uraraka suggested nervously, rubbing her arms that were filled with goosebumps. She wasn’t the only one; the others were having the same feeling. Despite how beautiful the scenery was, the lack of other colours made them strangely uncomfortable.

“Gero?” Asui froze when another breeze combed through her ink-black hair. She turned, looking back to the ocean where the sun was slowly disappearing into the line where the sky and water met. “Come to think of it…wasn’t there supposed to be a barrier around Yokohama?”

Her sudden question caused every single one of the students to freeze.

It took them half a minute to finally react.

Having woken up to be told that they were in Yokohama drew all of their attention to the city itself. None of them even remembered there was supposed to be a barrier over their head, since to them it was natural to see a sky, so none of them had given it any thought about it until now.

“You’re right! Where’s the barrier?!” Kirishima shouted as he gazed up at the sky.

“I don’t see it at all!”

“Are you morons?” Bakugou snorted. “It’s the same fucking thing as a one-way mirror!”

“But what about this wind?! Where’s the wind coming from?!” Hagakure spluttered.

“You’re fucking annoying!” Bakugou snapped, meaning that he didn’t have an answer either.

Creeeak

“Hey guys, did you hear something?” Ashido asked, looking around at the weird sound just now.

“Probably just the wind.” Kaminari dismissed.

“But…there’s no wind right now?” Midoriya pointed it out. Everyone stopped what they’re doing and realized that yes…the breeze had stopped.

“Could it be?!” Ashido’s sudden gasp has everyone turning to her.

“What is it?” Sato asked with worries lacing his voice.

“It was recorded in a book back at the library!” Ashido gasped, eyes darting around nervously with her hand gripping the scarf that was covering the bottom half of her face. “Fifty-year ago in Yokohama…there was this man who has the power—the Ability to reconstruct anything he eats. Every night when the moon disappears behind the cloud, he would sneak into his target’s room and devours them.”

“Wait! What do you mean by devour?” Uraraka gagged, going green in the face. “Y-you don’t mean—!”

“The police were after him for years…until they found him within a forest of red maples and spider lilies.” Ashido continued on, looking down at the spider lilies surrounding them.

“The murder was extremely ugly, and because of his power, his parents abandoned him. No one even wanted to go near him because of how he looked, so growing up, he never had any friends. Every day, he would play with himself in the forest until one day…and idea came to him—an idea to make friends.

During the day, he would go out into the street, searching for a potential friend he could make. Once he found them, he would stalk them, trying to find out everything about them. Their personality, their hobby, their family…he wanted to know everything. And once he does, he’ll eat them—flesh and bones. He even swallowed their teeth...one by one.”

“Hiiie!” The girls jumped back with shivers crawling down their spines.

“After that, he would go back to the forest where he lives and puke them back out. Since he ate them, the body parts were all in pieces and had become mushy, so he used his power to reconstruct them into how he imagined them to be. As time slowly passed by, he ate more and more people. The forest where it had always been only him were filled with people, all posed into different shapes like mannequins to suit his desire.

Fearing that his friends would be found and taken away from him, he would turn them into trees and flowers during the day. However, that would mean that even he can’t tell which plant was his friend, and good friends would never mistake their own friends, right? So, he turned them into bright red maples and spider lilies, so that they’ll be easy to spot in the green forest. It was only when moonlight shines over the land that the spell he put on the plants would break, turning them back into what they really looked like.

When the police were closing in on him, he knew it was only a matter of time that they find this place. He didn’t want his friends to be taken away from him…so, as the sun slowly sets, he hung himself on the biggest maple tree that he made with hundreds of crushed human heads. When he died, his power stopped functioning. Even as moonlight swept over the land, the blood-red plants stayed as they were, unable to turn back into flesh and bones. When the police finally came, they left only with the murderer’s body, not knowing the truth behind the trees and flowers around them.

From then on, whenever night came, the people who lived near the forest would hear crying sounds…pleading for someone to…”

Ashido trailed off, turning to the nearest person. Her blackened eyes dilated as she ripped her scarf down. Due to the heavy foundation, she caked over her face, her skin ended up looking purplish with dripping red fluid smeared all over her mouth.

“SAVE ME!!!!!!!!!”

“IYAAAAAAAA!!!!” Aoyama screamed off the top of his lungs, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head.

The golden-haired boy wasn't the only one. Due to the heavy tension in the air, the moment he screamed, most of the girls and some guys ended up screaming as well, from both shock and horror.

Ashido was bent over, hugging onto her stomach as she laughed her head off.

“The looks on your faces were priceless!” She cackled as she wiped the red fluid off her mouth.

“What is that?” Iida coughed into his hand, acting as though he wasn’t the least scared despite how he had jumped at that last part.

“Strawberry jam of course!” Ashido showed them an open pack of strawberry jam that they recognized from Lucy’s store. The redhead had put a basket of these on the table when she brought out their cookies.

“So that was just all made up!” Uraraka sighed in relief, only to freeze up when that sound came again.

Creeeeeak

“Guys…” Jirou suddenly spoke up. “I think something’s here.”

“Not you too. It’s scary the first time but now that everyone knows it won’t—”

“No, I’m serious! Something is here!” Jirou snapped, cutting Kaminari off as she looked over the lines of red maples until her eyes landed on a specific one. “There!”

CREEEEEAK

It was as if knowing it had been spotted, the tree shook even more violently, creaking more creaking sound.

Everyone followed where her finger was pointing.

“What is that?” Sero squinted in an attempt to see through the thick leaves and find whatever it was that’s making the tree shake so much.

“A-a squirrel…maybe?” Mineta guessed.

“A squirrel won’t shake a tree that much though.” Ojiro pointed out.

“Then a cat?” Kaminari piped in on the guesses.

CREEEEEEEEAK

The protesting cries of the maple’s branch scratched against their eardrums as something came twirling out within a shower of crimson leaves.

It was literally twirling—leaving a blur of black and white against the red background. The thing was spinning so fast that none of them could make out what exactly was that.

Then, a white thing—a rope perhaps—that was unwrapping from the spinning top suddenly came to an abrupt stop. The rope stretched thin, pulling on the heavyweight below and the poor branch above, creating more creaking sound from the pitiful maple tree.

When the maple’s branch bounced back up, the force propelled the figure below upward.

Now that the thing had stopped twirling, they were able to make out arms and legs…and a mop of dark brown hair.

The spinning top had been a human.

They couldn't see his face, but the man was dressed like a typical businessman with black pants, shiny leather black shoes, a white dress shirt, and a tie.

They watched as the man hovered within the air for a few seconds of hang time before he dropped back down, pulled by gravity as the branch above him shook, letting down another shower of leaves. His long legs whipped down, breaking the beautiful flowers beneath him and causing a flurry of pedals to scatter into the air—mixing with the falling leaves.

The man made a strained choking noise as he was held up by the white rope around his neck. The kids couldn't see his feet in those red flowers, but the man was definitely not touching the ground with the way he was swinging back and forth.

His lips were slightly parted, letting out faint wheezes with blood as red as the spider lilies dribbling out of his mouth and down his chin. He stared—eyes budging from the sockets—at the group of teenagers whose eyes were budging out just as much.

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

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#soukoku #Crossover fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha #bungou stray dogs #bsg

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