#it’s almost satisfying how clean this was able to be drawn from my mind onto a surface

[breakyeol]

touch it (sensual oils)

one shot

┗ pairing : baekhyun x reader

words: 4k

warnings: smut, sensual massage, byun-booty, hand job, light overstimulation 

a/n; because baekhyun deserves it

Baekhyun had a bad day.

That much was glaringly obvious from the very moment he stepped through the door, looking about ready to crawl beneath your bedsheets and never come out. He collapsed into your arms with a pathetic whine the moment you rose from where you were situated on the couch, the full weight of his body thrown against your chest. You grunted at the unexpected impact, quickly wrapping your arms around his slim waist when you felt his knees beginning to give out.

“Baek!” You yelped, struggling feebly to support the both of you. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m too tired to stand,” he cried out dramatically, voice muffled against your shoulder, “my body feels like it’s turning into mush.”

You clicked your tongue at his familiar dramatics, a fond smile flitting across your lips in spite of yourself. “Oh my poor baby~” you cooed playfully, petting the top of his head, “they worked you into the ground?”

A heavy pout tugged at the corners of his lips, big droopy eyes swinging up to meet yours as he bobbed his head. “I’m already sore. I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow.” He complained noisily, hands curling into tight fists around the material of your sweatshirt.

This close, you could easily make out the lingering scent of sweat clinging to his skin, and you didn’t doubt for a second he worked until he was drenched in it. There was a flash, an image that passed before your eyes, of Baekhyun, sweat rolling down the smooth slope of his chin, dripping from the fringes of his bangs, glistening enticingly above his brow, his mouth pink and open, gasping. It vanished just as quickly as it had come, and your attention was drawn back to the whining mess of a man squirming against your chest.

“Go shower,” you suggested, not trusting your voice above a careful whisper, “then come to bed, okay?”

“I don’t want to. Just hold me.”

You snickered, combing your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck, feeling the way his body melted into the tender caress. “I will gladly hold you for the rest of the night… after you take a shower.”

He only offered an unintelligible grunt in response, showing no signs of detaching himself from your body, his hold around you tightening in a display of stubborn resistance. There was little doubt in your mind that he’d keep this up for as long as your patience allowed – which, given how soft you were for the man, was a fairly long time –, but you knew you’d both be better off once he felt clean and refreshed, cleansed of the day’s many hardships.

“You’ll feel a lot better afterwards.”

A groan this time.

“I’ll make you feel a lot better afterwards.”

At that reparation, his head snapped up, eyes wide and, despite the exhaustion, glinting with a hint of excitement. His spine straightened, grip around you loosening somewhat as strength seemed to return to his muscles. “Really?” He whispered, pink tongue slipping out from between petal lips. So easy. You could’ve scoffed, but thought better of yourself, settling for a suggestive cock of your head that could be interpreted in a number of ways.

“Go shower,” you hummed, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and guiding his face down towards yours, “then… we’ll see.”

He let out a huff of breath, eyes going hooded as they flickered down to trace the smug curve of lips. “You’re mean.”

You laughed lightly, planting a kiss that was far too short for Baekhyun’s liking to his pouted mouth before skillfully untangling yourself from his arms. “We’ll see just how mean I can be once you come to bed.” You called teasingly over your shoulder, grinning in wild amusement at the low curse that followed.

It wasn’t too long after you’d made your way into the bedroom that you heard the soft hiss of the shower. You waited until you heard the low groan that told you that your boyfriend had finally stepped beneath the hot spray to permeate through the separating wall before you jumped into action.

This wasn’t the first time Baekhyun had come home looking ready to collapse and you doubted it would be the last. There wasn’t much you could do about him having to go to work. No matter what you said or how many times you told him he should give himself a chance to rest and recover, he would always put his everything into his work, because that was just the kind of man he was. He was all passion and fire and unrelenting persistence even when he felt like he might die. It was a quality that sparked both admiration and fear inside of you.

There was a certain helplessness that came with being the person he came home to after a long day of work, body and mind teetering dangerously on the brink of exhaustion. There wasn’t much you could do to ease his stress, as he wasn’t the type to verbally unload or express his unease to its full extent. Sure, he was dramatic, but only in a playful sense. That was his way of downplaying and covering up his true feelings, to both you and himself.

But, there were still other ways you could help. And, with some brainstorming and a bit of research, you’d come up with the perfect plan to help ease some of Baekhyun’s tension. Though, you had to scramble a bit to set the scene, you knew it would be fully worth it to see the look on his face.

It was just as you’d lit the final candle, completing the final touches, that you heard the shower shut off. Perfect timing. You quickly situated yourself on the edge of the bed, the cool air caressing your scantily clad body, rousing goosebumps across your skin.

But, the chills tickling your spine were little more than a second thought as Baekhyun stepped into the room donning nothing more than a towel that hung dangerously low on his full hips. He paused just inside the doorway, his brows shooting upwards as he took in the state of your shared bedroom. Wide eyes danced over the flickering candles laid out strategically across the hardwood floor to encircle the bed, swept over the scattered rose petals, before finally landing on you.

You, wearing a deep crimson lingerie set, a sheer silk robe, and nothing more.

His bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, rose sharply as his breath hitched. A low curse tumbled from his lips, almost too faint to hear over the seductive instrumentals pulsing from the speakers.

A satisfied smirk broke across your face at his reaction, pleased with yourself for having successfully caught him off guard.

“Surprise,” you sang, voice low and silken.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his own amazement rooting him in place as he visually inhaled the sight of you. Your skin was hot beneath the intensity of his gaze, blazing as it trailed torturously slow up the length of your body, not daring to miss a single detail.

A faint buzz of nerves fizzled in your gut.

You’d never done anything like this before. Presented yourself in such a way to him, that is. All wrapped up in silk and lace of only the most sensual nature, bathed in smooth orange candlelight that tickled your ankles and crept up the smooth length of your lower legs. This was something new for the both of you, something unexplored. But it also wasn’t everything you had in store.

When he moved, it was with the utmost cautiousness, as if stepping too quickly or too harshly might disturb the beautiful illusion spread before him. But still, he moved, unable to resist the temptation.

Without speaking, his hands found your face, curving around the shape of your jaw and winding around the back of your neck. They were cold against your skin, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that rippled down your spine as he leaned over you. You let out a soft hum at his touch, head rolling back under his gentle coaxing.

Not a beat passed before his mouth found yours, eager and impatient. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, easily finding the smooth slope of his naked waist and tugging him closer. He moaned somewhere low in his throat, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of your lip. You allowed as much, indulging the hungry press of his mouth, the careful nips of his teeth — until he tried to lay you down.

Your palms met the swells of his chest, and he pulled away, breathless and confused. “What is it?” He asked hoarsely, licking over his swollen lips. You’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said he didn’t look irresistible in that moment, wet hair hanging messily over his brows, dark, hooded eyes, all haze and lust as they stared down at you heatedly, full cheeks blushing a feverish shade of red. But you had plans for tonight, plans you didn’t intend to discard for the sake of sexual pleasure.

“I’m not fucking you.”

He gasped, disbelief coloring his features. “What? Why not?”

“Because,” you grinned, settling your hands on his hips, “I’m going to give you a massage.”

“A massa— ah!” his words cut off abruptly with a high pitched yelp as you suddenly spun him around, all but throwing him down onto the petal covered mattress. He could only stare at you in shock as you crawled over his nearly naked body, mouth curved into a playful smile.

“A massage.” You confirmed, sounding rather proud. But, he still looked less than amused, so you elaborated. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, and I know you’ve been stressed and your body is exhausted. A massage will help release some of that tension.”

“You know what else releases tension?” He asked, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. You cocked a brow, feeling the light press of his fingertips as they feathered over your thighs, taking an obvious path upwards. Desire and mischief swirled in his eyes, voice low and thick as the words dripped slowly from his dangerous tongue, “Hot… passionate… s—”

You snatched his hands from your skin before they could reach their destination, pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. “Shut up and roll over.”

He huffed, pouting up at you scornfully but obeyed nonetheless, rolling onto his stomach. “Do you even know how to give a massage?” He snipped as you settled yourself on the back of his towel clad thighs.

“I’ve done my research.” You offered lightly, sparing a moment to admire the lithe, sinewy build of his shoulders and back before you moved, reaching for the tall bottle you’d situated on the nightstand earlier. He followed your movements from the corner of his eye, curiosity breaking through the petulant facade.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?”

“Perhaps,” you teased, pouring the translucent golden liquid into your palm, “but you’ll enjoy this, I promise. Just… relax.”

A defeated sigh escaped his chest, his body deflating beneath you. “Fine. But, this better feel better than sex or I swear to god I will—” he jolted with a soft gasp as you suddenly pressed the heels of your oil lathered palms into the area just between his shoulder blades and pushed outwards, “sue.”

You smirked smugly to yourself at the breathlessness with which he completed his sentence, obviously not having expected the pressure to feel that amazing.

“Good?” You asked, voice tinged with arrogance.

“Uh-huh,” he admitted immediately, moaning throatily as you rolled your thumbs deeply against the base of his neck, “oh fuck that feels so good.”

You chuckled, skillfully working your fingers across the planes of his broad shoulders. He melted deeper into the mattress with every knot you deftly unwound, soft, relieved moans breaking from his open mouth. The smooth, lavender scented oil glistened captivatingly on his sun-kissed skin, the delicate aroma gently permeating through your bedroom. It was a lovely, soothing smell, subtle and unimposing. You spread it diligently across the smooth expanse of his upper back, before gradually beginning to work your way downwards.

His sounds of bliss lowered in pitch the lower your hands reached, dipping into silky tenor groans when your hands reached the delicate dip of his waist. But, as you moved to massage the area just above his hips, he suddenly jolted, spine arching, a strained curse rushing from between clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help the concern that sparked to life in your chest at his response. “Does it hurt?” You asked, easing up on the pressure but not removing your touch completely. Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded with a soft, hesitant hum, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “What happened?”

He made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “I just… twisted it weirdly during practice, I guess.” He offered weakly, shivering as you poured a small puddle of oil in the small of his back.

“Did you take a break?”

His silence was all the answer you needed.

“Baek,” your tone turned scolding as you gently worked your fingers into the tight dip of his waist, “just because you can fight through the pain doesn’t mean that you should. You’re not doing your body any favors by pushing it this hard.”

“I know but I—“ he sighed heavily, pressing his face into the sheets, “I just… don’t want to disappoint anybody.”

Oh, your poor, sweet Baekhyun. Always trying to please everyone else even when it ends up hurting him.

Pausing in your movements, you leaned forwards, bracing your hands on his shoulders so that you could speak in his ear. “Nobody is disappointed in you, Baek. You work so hard everyday to be the best you can be, and it shows. Everyone knows that you put your everything into what you do. And everyone’s proud of you,” you pressed your lips against the curve of his throat, slowly working your way up to the curve of his jaw, “I’m proud of you.”

He glanced back at you through his eyelashes. “Really?”

The question is so soft, so uncertain, and you feel your heart clench painfully in your chest at the thought that this man truly doesn’t understand just how many people adore him for just being… him. “Of course.”

You didn’t miss the rising of his cheeks, though he tried to hide himself beneath his arm, suddenly shy. You bit back a grin of your own, pressing one final kiss to the shell of his ear before returning to your earlier position and resuming the massage. He felt a dozen times more relaxed beneath you, the previous tension occupying his muscles having magically dissipated.

Sometimes, all he really needed was a little reassurance.

The smile that settled across your lips was unwavering as you took to kneading at the supple flesh of his hips, just above the top of his towel. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of a thought. A mischievous, dangerous thought. A thought that had your attention lingering on where the towel was tucked and secured on his right hip. Glancing up at the back of his head, you allowed your fingers to trail discretely towards the damp, white fabric, toying with it lightly so that he wouldn’t notice — not even as it came undone.

It was only as you peeled it swiftly away from his body and Baekhyun felt the rush of cool air across his backside that he realized what had just occurred.

“H– Hey!” He yelped, swinging his head around fast enough to give himself whiplash, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is a full body massage, Baek. It’s not a full body massage unless it’s full body.”

“My butt does not need massaging.”

You grinned, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you cocked a challenging brow. “I beg to differ.”

“Pervert.” He hissed.

You gasped, splaying a hand across your chest. “Who told you?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your antics, but put up little resistance as you nudged his hands away from his butt. The tips of his ears and the back of his neck turned a dark, lovely shade of pink, and he quickly buried his face in his arms. Taking that as his nonverbal cue to continue, you poured yourself some more of the lavender scented oil, overturning your palm to let it drizzle onto his cheeks. He flinched slightly, the sensation catching him off guard.

So cute. You bit into the inside of your cheek to keep from cooing at him, opting to set your hands upon the gentle curve of his ass and knead your fingers into the soft, toned flesh. Baekhyun stifled a moan in the crook of his elbow, eyes fluttering as his body responded to the soothing touch.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” You asked, tone teasing.

“Shut up.”

You snickered, massaging deep circles into the muscles of his upper thigh. He groaned deeply, fingers curling into the sheets. “Right there, right there— fuck, right there. It’s so sore.”

Heat flickered faintly in the pit of your stomach at the low rasping of his voice, grunted roughly through clenched teeth. Geez, why’d he have to sound so damn sexy…

Brushing off the thought as best you could, you forced yourself to focus on massaging the tension from his hamstrings. But each brush of your fingers over the insides of his thighs, intentional or otherwise, coaxed a round of violent shivers and breathless moans from your very much nude and very much oil covered boyfriend. You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, jaw clenching as you squeezed your hands around the backs of his lower thighs.

The sounds he was making weren’t helping your… situation in the least.

“How are you so good at this?” He asked, somewhat airily as your hands glided upwards, to just below the curve of his ass before returning to the crook of his knee. The question snapped you out of whatever trance you’d put yourself in watching the way his slick, honeyed skin dipped and curved deliciously beneath the pressure of your touch.

“Re- research. Lots of research.” You cleared your throat, shifting downwards on the mattress to set to work on his calves.

“You’re hands are fucking magic.”

Warmth slipped into your cheeks at the praise, your heart picking up speed within your chest. He was making it difficult for you to focus.

“I told you you’d like it.” You hummed playfully, beginning the slow ascent back up the length of his naked body.

“You were right,” he conceded easily, sighing in bliss as your hands slid over the small of his back, “I love it. Feels so fucking good, you have no idea.”

A content (and perhaps a bit smug) smile settled across your face. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. All you wanted was to make Baekhyun feel even just a little bit better after what you knew had to be a long, hard day— and you goddamn succeeded.

“Baek,” you murmured, and he gasped softly, not expecting your lips to be right next to his ear. He let out an unsteady hum, blinking hard twice when he felt your lace covered chest press against his back, “roll over for me?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. You lifted yourself off of him to give him just enough room to turn onto his back beneath you. All at once you were nose to nose, soft puffs of breath caressing your mouth. He was looking up at you with those eyes again, those hooded, wanting eyes, his hands clenching at the sheets somewhere down by his sides. You could see the dark flush on his cheeks, the desperation slowly seeping into his expression.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” The question was quiet, barely a whisper on his delicate pink lips. But the fire it ignited inside of you was anything but— loud, violent, and devastating, ripping your so well kept self control to shreds in a matter of moments.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sliding a slick hand down his toned stomach, “but I’m going to touch it first.”

He barely had time to react before your hand was around his cock. He gasped, back arching, forcing his chest flush against yours. Surprise flickered across your face upon feeling him already fully hard and throbbing against your palm. “Oh?”

“What?” He huffed out breathlessly, swinging the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, “did you expect me not to get hard while my sexy girlfriend wearing sexy lingerie rubs every inch of my body with oil?”

Pausing, you squinted down at him. “It was the butt massage, wasn’t it?”

He glared, and you grinned.

But any annoyance was wiped clean off his face as you squeezed your fingers around him, stroking his dick at a slow, borderline torturous pace. The remaining oil on your hand combined with his precum provided the perfect lubrication, the slide smooth and wet, the lewd sound of it making you clench around nothing. Baekhyun’s head rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. But, not for a moment did his gaze break from yours. You bit your lip harshly, a violent heat licking at your veins, the sheer intensity of his dark stare making your head feel dizzy.

“You look… so hot right now.” You hadn’t intended to say the words out loud, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to feel even the least bit ashamed.

The corner of his mouth curled into a sultry smirk, an airy chuckle rumbling somewhere low in his chest.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “Then kiss me.”

You did so without hesitation.

Baekhyun let out a heady groan, hands surging up from between your bodies to cradle your jaw as your lips worked against his with a hunger you hadn’t realized you possessed. It was uncoordinated and messy, all lashing tongue and vicious teeth, biting and sucking and licking until you were certain your that lips were raw. You were dizzy and intoxicated by the taste of him, and he wasn’t in much of a better state. With his cock in your hand and your tongue in his mouth, it didn’t seem like he’d last much longer.

Beneath you, Baekhyun’s hips bucked and rolled, frenzied and desperate. Your hand stilled around him, allowing him the luxury of control as he fucked himself violently into your closed fist. Each moan that tumbled from his mouth into yours was louder than the last, and you relished in the unabashed displays of pleasure, taking an immense amount of pride in knowing that you were the cause of it.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped the warning, his nails biting harshly into your shoulder, “fuck— fuck, wait— I’m g-gonna come.”

“Baek,” you panted, still trying to catch your breath from the kiss, “come for me. Please.”

His back arched, the furnace of his body overwhelmed but still trying feebly to fight back his oncoming high. Baekhyun didn’t like coming first. He’d always had the tendency of putting your pleasure above his own, making sure you came at least once (if not multiple times) before him. But tonight wasn’t about you. Tonight was about him. And you were going to make sure he knew it.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking a dark bruise into his skin while simultaneously rolling your thumb over his sensitive tip in a way that had him trembling pathetically beneath you.

“Oh god— oh fuck— y/n—!” He came with a hoarse cry of your name, hips bucking, muscles tensing, skin shivering. You felt his hot release spilling over your knuckles, slipping between your fingers. He whimpered and squirmed as the overstimulation kicked in, but you didn’t stop stroking him until he started begging. “I can’t, I can’t— baby, please—” his chest heaved and his eyes went glassy, the dangerous cocktail of pleasure and pain making his head feel dizzy.

Looking down at him, so wrecked and fucked out, with those flushed cheeks and heavy eyes, you felt your heart flutter at the same time arousal coiled in your gut. He was just too damn pretty for his own good.

You relented, gently releasing his spent dick from your hold. He let out a shaky breath before tugging you into another mind numbing kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, feeling one of his hands coil around the back of your neck while the other explored the expanse of your back. It didn’t take long before they discovered the clasp of your bra, deftly unclasping it. Distracted by the skillful flicks of his tongue, you didn’t realize what he’d done until you felt the lacy fabric slip down your arms.

A giggle bubbled in your throat, and you whispered against his mouth, “naughty boy.”

His lips curled, and then all at once you found yourself sprawled on your back. “Naughty girl,” Baekhyun retaliated in a low, playful growl, pinning your hands to the mattress on either side of your head, “making me cum even after I told you to wait...”

His head dipped and you gasped softly as he nipped at the sensitive part of your throat, one hand sliding down to grip at your naked breast. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as he circled your nipple with a rough thumb.

“Guess I’ll just have to pay you back for it…”

You weren’t about to object to that.

#baekhyun fanfic #exo smut #byun baekhyun #exo #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fic #exo scenarios #exo oneshot #exo imagines #kpop smut

[strawberry-nugget]

Stargazing [through the five stages of grief] | K. Bakugo

★Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki/ reader

☆Synopsis: after Izukus sudden death you and Bakugo find comfort in each other

★Warnings:18+, minors do not interact, sexual themes(SMUT), aged up characters, grieving and coping mechanisms, depression as part of a stage of grief, language

☆A/N: I wrote this for @starstruckkittensweets​ 's  Summer Romance Collab collab I also cried multiple times while writing this for so many reasons. Dedicated to my friend @aichiin in hopes this is any comforting to her <3

★Word Count: 10.6K

i. denial | 3.28 am Just when you think silence is going to engulf you in lethal restraints, he's got you. Held and embraced, away from all the evil in the world, pouring a fountain of tears in the burgundy of his tank top. The beauty of the seashore is unmatched at this time of the year -end of July- honey colored sand spreading to as far as your eye can see, lining the white foams of the water perfectly. It shines under the moonlight beautifully golden, as if Midas' touch has grazed each and every speck of sand; it's almost a pity to watch some weather away in the soft evening breeze. Not many stars are visible with how bright the moon is and you simply can't stop thinking about it, the numbness in your heart as you're trying to spot the only few constellations that you know, but even them seem unable to shine brighter than the light of the moon. But he- he shoots a hand to the sky with one eye closed as he mutters something under his breath. It makes your heart pause. You don't catch it though -whatever it is he said- ears deaf to the feeling of being pressed too tightly into his broad chest -to an asphyxiating point, even- but you catch your heart fluttering again for the first time in weeks. A good sign, you guess, the little excitement that you feel can overthrow the buzzing void in your heart, or your head. "That's the Hercules one right? You've been trying to find it for years huh?" You feel the humming in his own hollow chest more than you hear the soft muttering that leaves his lips. This heat he usually emits is probably gone by now, from how tight he's holding you and you're not entirely sure why he's putting on that show for you. The soft pretending of searching for the stars when he won't let your face turn to the direction of the sky, or why he just so effortlessly knows all the constellations you've been trying to find. Under any other case you'd call him a show off, a self contrasting asshole and his sloppy hold around your chin and neck proves that you've never been this close, as expected. He doesn't know what you like or how you'd rather be held, or even, how anyone would like to be held and you don't know anything about how to handle someone like him but social expectations don't matter when comfort is needed, or whatever Mina and Ochako said. The air smells like salt and seaweed, musty and a bit heavy, but refreshing at the same time. As refreshing as hot July air could ever be yet you still find the breeze chilly, so you coo into chest even more, throwing a leg over his thighs, and flexing your palm on his ribs. In response he soothes his hand down your shoulder, trying to create some much needed friction for you. "You can drop the act now" You mutter, rubbing your cheek comfortably onto the soft cotton of his tank top

"What act?" "Trying to comfort me, trying to use me to comfort yourself" There's hurt in the way you talk, and it jabs his heart peculiarly, making him push you off his chest just one but so he can meet your gaze. When he does, you realise you've never been met with such a serious look, and your mind vibrates in what your own confrontation towards him should be. "I mean, why be comforted? We're strong. We're heroes, we-" He shushes you, with a gaze and a snake-like lisp sound that rattles out of his teeth. "What's insufferable for me, I'm guessing, is even worse for you" He clears his throat just when his voice gets a bit raspy from laying on his back "and I'm a hero, it's what I should do. He would have wanted this as well you kno-" "He would have wanted you to be yourself not try to become him" You nuzzle your nose deeper into his chest, avoiding his eyes and the prying stars that decorate the sky above, feeling watched, betrayed by how they're able to shine so brightly despite the loss you're feeling. But then again, why wouldn't they shine? Isn't life just supposed to move on even after a loved one isn't with you anymore? Stars aren't supposed to go out, to become more or less as time goes by, they've seen distraction and glory and fall -it's only you who finds

it cruel that they can still shine in times like this. "He would have wanted me to be better. It pains me more than you to admit" Katsuki has never shown such an appreciating side of himself when it comes to your late friend. Or he has and you've just not been there to witness. Or, perhaps, you've chosen to turn a blind eye to anything that's ever brought them close because you weren't the most fond of him since childhood. Yet, a feeling inside your chest commands you to oppose him and his word. Even by the comfort of his own chest. There's no denying that you've wanted to hate the one who's nothing but comforting you, but you find yourself stuck between grief and a burning heart. It leaves you numb, maybe, to think that he so graciously holds you as if nothing else in the world matters. When this shouldn't be the case. "Why, why does this have to happen to us? We're supposed to save people, losing people is-" "The biggest part of the job" He finished your words for you, strobing that little rattle of reluctance he senses in your voice "We didn't-" "Sign up for this?" You nod at his inquiry "in a way I think we did. He always pushed himself and if you say you never saw it coming, you're lying" "I didn't" "There you go" "No, no" You shake your head "he was strong. This shouldn't have happened, it's unfair and it's-" "It fucking damn is unfair but there's no rematch for him. I wholeheartedly agree, it shouldn't have been like this. We shouldn't be here, days after his damn birthday, hollow and mourning. He should have been here, we should be celebrating" He's not going to call him an idiot. Not anymore. Not even because he's hurt you or anyone as a matter of fact, but because he's come to respect his dead, he's come to lose the attitude when it comes to seeking help, or giving it. It's something Izuku has taught him, a strong moral that no longer rests in the back of his head as a possible value to characterise a hero. It's rather a reality, such a strong wave of consciousness and coinsense that washes through his body all the time. You think, qualities of Izuku, wash through your soul in waves too. "But suggestion is oceans away from reality" Katsuki whispers and just then, the tender touch of his fingers lingers in between your locks. Only for a split second, and for the sole reason of flicking some hair on top of your ear, to shield it from the chill of the air. You're not certain if you act on your grief's accord or not when you grab onto his wrist to prolong the soft petting of his hand on your head. But he complies with you wordlessly, sighing out a heavy bubble of air off his lungs. "That's not the hercules one" You whisper "Huh?" "The constellation" It's oddly satisfying how you coo deeper into his chest, even if you can't see him pop one eye open to peak at the sky "that's Ursa Major" "Like fuck it is Ursa Major" "Katsuki, is this your first time stargazing?" You ask quietly and he wraps a hand around your waist to drag you a little closer towards his chin. When he does, he rests his chin onto your hairline. "I can't believe I opened a goddamn map for this and couldn't even distinguish the hercules one from the Big Dipper" You hammer out a little giggle. It sounds mechanical but still, he mimics you, and you can not only feel the vibrations in his chest, but the movements of his chin too, as he mellowy rubs his soft skin on your hair, soothing his lips on your head from time to time. The breaths he lets out of his nose are silent, yet you feel them calming you down, so warm and so calming against you. "The Hercules is a big constellation but it's not bright at all, you have to catch it on a moonless night and it's usually gone too early" Katsuki sighs. The process of taking in your words in analogy with late Izuku is too strong and it's too early for him to touch a subject that even so reminds him of the situation. It's more than enough that you two got to talk about it tonight, or rather, about your feelings, but at one point the line is drawn on what's harmful to his soul. A sole mention of the condition of a constellation should be making his stomach churn, and it definitely shouldn't make him hug you tighter into him. For one, the phenomenon of the constellation's nature has been around for longer than he has been who he is, and will still be when he's not. This small coincidence, even if it rubs salt to the wound, is not the fault of a small mass of stars gathered together to form something human eyes can recognize as a kneeling figure. Izuku's life is probably just a parallel to the greek myth of hercules, or so, he likes to glorify, but when it comes to him, there's noass of stars for anyone to remember him by.

Izuku falls and dies so long as the memories of his friends live, finding shelter behind a myth, a legend, a course change in the history of humankind that lead to this specific moment. Him, mourning with you, on the beach that Izuku cleaned years ago, feeling his heart ache in sync with yours. And maybe, maybe if- "If I close my eyes and fall asleep, will I wake up and realise that this is all a bad dream?" You ask as if you don't know what the answer is going to be and he tries to not indulge in feeding you a void of hopes just to make you feel a bit more sure of your future, or try to convince himself he'll have a good one too. He wants to reply positively, just as much as he wants to wake up too in a reality where Izuku is still alive, and he's got to say everything he's ever wanted. He knows, some nights he'll find himself thinking he would like to go back and change the course of his own history, whatsoever, to never hurt Izuku for naturally having qualities he had to work for, or change the fact that he's been harsh and cruel. The 'why us' inquiry that arises in his chest as he's stroking the slightly greasy hair on your scalp is what's left to bounce in his head for now, eating away every curly corner of his brain, turning any other thought into a wasteland, yet, still his answer to you is what he would rather not hear, bathed in a cruel nature he's tried so hard to lose from his persona. "I wish it were just one bad dream" There's so many questions in his head; are you asleep? Or will he hurt you by trying to force himself into accepting Izuku's death? Are you prone to being hurt and pricked by how raspy and serious his voice sounds? Because you don't make a noise, nor a sniffle, and your hand isn't tightening around the collar of his shirt anymore. He wishes too, it's all a bad dream. For the lover that you lost, and for the person he's known better than anyone, the person that knew him better than anyone. But it's not. And the mellow sound of waves crashing on the shore bears a tune to convince him to forget, but the water won't reflect the stars he can see with his bare eyes. Thus he's asleep before the lurking darkness in sound and sight gets him too. Just for a while, just until it's his own turn to face oblivion. A small part of his brain, though, convinces him he'd face any oblivion so long as he gets to fall asleep in your arms like that, over the soft, warm sand, on a chilly July night. 

ii. anger | 9.47 pm If you could only know the reason you're yelling, tears wouldn't be spilling from the corners of your eyes, down your cheeks just to drown on your overly stretched mouth, wetting the lips that are stinging in splits and bruises of dehydration. He's not one to back down while facing the disdain of his own feelings. When that disdain should be directed on how petty the cause for your irritation is, you're both focused on the snap of nerves inside each of your heads, chests heaving as you're staring at each other dead in the eye; you, from the cold seat of your couch, Katsuki, from the numbing howling that seeps through the cracks of your front door. The bags in his hands are heavy with groceries and the weight of this peculiar, unspoken agreement to settle together. It's hidden in the affection behind every piece of vegetable and fruit in the tote bags. Even if the night is young, he's got a look in his eyes that mutters how

willing he actually is to grab a pot and a spoon and cook for the two of you. But you know- he shouldn't put pressure on himself after a late patrol for a chore you were supposed to fulfill. If only he wasn't on your ass about ordering take out. "You can't fucking order again." He speaks, grunting more so than accentuating the words as he probably should. But he's irritated you, so much that you've spent the last ten minutes yelling at each other while standing frozen in your places. Probably, a neighbor has heard and your mere response to the alarming social anxiety that arises from that fact is apathy. You're already directing a big amount of angry spouting at the blond, there's no such room to experience other feelings right now. "Fucking hell, Katsuki just stop! I don't fucking care if you think ordering isn't fucking good. I can't cook right now. I won't cook" You say in a higher pitch "and you won't cook either" When he opens his mouth to speak, you roll your eyes, away from him -you just know what he's going to say- though you instantly regret it. The sight of him frozen, with bags in his hands before your door is upsetting, and begs to stir up your mind in horrid imaginations of him throwing a tantrum at you and leaving you, of him never opening up his door to you ever again. Maybe, just maybe you should have thought this through better before yelling at him. "Fuck you" He says through greeted teeth and scrunched up nose huffs "fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck" He's not a punching bag, he's the only person who's here for you and your heart won't forgive you if you lose him. Your head turns or snaps to his direction, eyes too gooey to meet his gaze properly, but you still do look at him so desperately, you're sure your heart makes a ripping sound at its very seams. And that firm dedication of his to closing himself off is evident again; in that wet anger in the corner of his eyes, seeping like magma just at the tips but never falling down on his cheeks. In his pursed lower lip -and oh, will it be so infuriating to think, you don't wanna fight, you just want him to press those lips against your forehead and forget those arguments that always arise? As he's headed for the kitchen, step after step and upper lip overlapping the bottom one to hide his irritation, his eyes are averted from you and you chase after him with counted movements; a little limp to your left leg by sitting on it for a long time bubbling up inside your bones. Unwillingly, non-eagerly. Regret and remorse for yourself are feelings that rush through you, making your tongue run faster than your mouth, making your head dizzy with guilt and drowning you of a trillion of things you want to say to him. "Katsuki" You plead with half a breath, eyebrows forming an impossible frown above your eyes "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled, i-" "Fucking save it. Order if you want, I don't care" "Katsuki-" He huffs air too harshly out of his scrunched up nostrils again and shuts his eyes closed, hands resting over the groceries as he's leaning over the kitchen table. Not once in the minute he's taking from himself does he spare you a glance, but you can rather listen to him mutter a soft 'be patient' under his own breath. To himself, you realise, but your heart's too heavy as you anxiously suck your upper lip inside your mouth, wondering -will an apology fix this? It may irritate him even more, and taking the risk is probably not worthy of him getting riled up, but you go for it nonetheless, hidden away behind the stall that separates the kitchen from the living room. Your little hiding spot for the moment, a place where you can safely hide behind as you choke on your own spit, trembling at the thought of any possible outcome of your next choice of words. "I'm sorry, I'm just, I'm snappy lately" He won't respond and you notice how he's counting his breathing with eyes still shut, though, ever so slightly; that's your sign to step back, give him space and time as you make your first step to the living room. Though small glimmers of regret

springle inside your heart, landing in small needle-like jabs on every stretchy wall of the overly sensitive organ, your brain begs to be the voice of common sense, just to push you to just give him space. But what if he doesn't want space. What if he wants to be held? Like you do. What if he doesn't want to fight? "I'm sorry" You mutter under your breath, again Your step is almost crippled as you try to approach him, lost and scared at the sight of him still struggling to compose himself still. The guilt in your gut is immense and spreading like a wildfire on rotten land, but you feel like, perhaps, you -and him consequently- soothe down when your hand touches his shoulder, or, when your forehead rests easy on the crook of his neck, just after you out your weight on your toes, You can't help but repeat your previous statement. "I'm sorry, talk to me, tell me if you're good or not" He grunts, letting out a short breath in the form of a sigh. 'I'm not', you translate and your chest tightens Your right hand comes to curl around his chest over his shoulder, your left, mechanically even, cripples around his waist enough so you can press his back into your chest. "Fuck i-" You don't make a move to shush him "I feel so bad, I just. What would he have to say about me if I left his girlfriend on her own, to eat crap everyday. That's not healthy for you. I shouldn't be fucking yelling. I shouldn't-" He's so out of breath, that you consider punching some air into his lungs, with the softest CPR to have ever been performed, but the thought leaves your head immediately, your heart drowning your stomach in guilt at the imagery of your lips on his. The snap to reality after that little moment is so intense, you don't know how you handle yourself and your heart. "I shouldn't be yelling" In all your years, you've never heard him be so sincere while being so furious. When it's true that he's nothing of getting into drama or anything of sort, Katsuki is always too prideful to admit when he's made a mistake. You figure, it's unfair to still judge him as if he's his UA self, or his middle school self even. He's a different person now, having lived through so many events that could crush even the most strong willed person -and that's what he gets from admiring All Might, you think- and all he's ever done is try to be here for you. Understanding each other in such difficult times is mandatory and compromise is a foundation that you both need to work on. You find yourself opening your mouth and shutting it again for several seconds as you're trying to voice it. The dry, chapped feeling of your lips colliding makes you want to shut your eyes and wordlessly communicate your thoughts to him, but it's impossible. For your quirk isn't transmitting your thoughts to others, nor is it keeping track of one's thoughts. Everything you do to comfort him, has to be done by yourself, strictly. "Katsuki, I don't want you to-" You nuzzle your face into his back in hopes that perhaps, it muffles the intensity of your speech "I don't want you to overwork yourself for me. Izuku-" His name is whispered like words of sin or ruthless statements of atrocities, when it shouldn't "-wouldn't let me do that to you." He doesn't talk, or sigh, or even place his hand on yours and a whole minute passes like that. Or two, or three, or an eternity. The clock is ticking so loud that it's unbearable, his heartbeat muffling your ears while his scent is musking your nose. It's a funny thing, that perhaps, everything feels so warm, so comforting like this, you'd like to keep hugging him, if he allows you too. For as long as this minute's eternity can last. "Don't leave me cause I'm angry and snappy" It's so barely audible that you think he's only trying to calm himself down again, but it strikes you like a swift slash of a sword to your chest to realize the weight of his words. You thought you were the only one feeling this way. 'Don't leave me'. As if- as if it's an option that's hunting the depths of his chest, or perhaps as if your situation isn't a granted part in your lives for a little over a month. You're not one to inquire of a person in panic why they said what they said or if there's a cryptic meaning behind his very words. Because, frankly, there isn't. He's pretty clear, even while being tenderly desperate about it. And oh, you feel your heart pull and pinch at the thought of it.

"I'm not leaving" "Good" When he turns to face you, he's gripping onto your palms like it's painted out to be for dear life, a plea to not let him go as he turns his body around; you feel as if he needs you, as if, you're necessary to comfort him as well. You're too far gone in the joy that gathers in your stomach to hear him utter the words "I'm not leaving either" but you find some meaning of this statement in his embrace, when he shoves you into his chest. There's a little awkward cripple to your gaze that causes you to steal a stare outside the window or, perhaps, it's something bigger, or even the drive in your heart to hope for something more as an outcome for this. In the worst case scenario, you're pleading for forgiveness, if, by any chance, Izuku is still out there and can witness this little happening. That's when you find it, and truly, you have to catch a second glance at it to feel certain about what you just saw. Subtle little shimmers of stars, painting a large part of the sky, patiently awaiting to be noticed, in agony and tiredness that only a hero could recognize. And if you're a hero, you can feel it too, the kneeling of the legs, the flexing of the arms -it's all there- drawn by little stars of other galaxies in front of your very eyes, after searching for them for years. That's perhaps what people mean when they say, happiness is found in small things. Katsuki's arms around you, his faint breathing grazing the skin of your nape tenderly as he's calming himself down is more than enough, but the sky tonight has managed to make a compromise for the two of you, shining the diamond colors of the hercules constellation to the two of you. It's a blink and you'll miss it, no reason to break away from his arms, so you coo into his mellowy neck, speaking against his skin. "I found it, the hercules constellation" "What? Where" He's not shook at all as he speaks, and it doesn't surprise you either; there's this dazzling tranquility in the air, so much for getting you to calm down after such rage, but you'll take it over anything else, anytime. When Katsuki seems to detach his resting lips from the crook of your neck, he lays the side of his face on the very spot, inquiring again about the location of the constellation. You're more than happy to provide him with an answer. He drags you to the balcony with slow steps, a million steps away from the lights of your apartment as it seems before snapping his head towards the sky, squinting his eyes to comb through any star he could probably set his gaze on. You help him find it, not because it's before his very eyes, but because something inside you is flickering to rush you. Hurry it up. Look at the pretty stars and embrace him again, because it feels good, and you don't mind that you get mad at yourself for thinking this way. You don't even want to question your morals as thoughts of holding his hand pass through your head. Maybe a finger or two tangled in his like messy strands of hair, too hard to detangle- maybe that'd be comforting. Perfect even. Despite your best efforts to tickle his pointer finger with yours shyly, you come to realise he won't respond -you better behave, or, you should have know, but the insecurities that make you question everything are as evident as they'll ever be- you wonder if you've made him uncomfortable. But he's wrapping an arm around your shoulders, by grabbing that hand you're using to guide his gaze across the constellation and this time you can't help, but tangle all of your fingers through his, like a hair clam, fitting so perfectly, your heart cracks even more than last time. "I can pop some rice in the rice cooker and you can buy some Teriyaki" He sighs, though not once does he pry his eyes away from the stars

And that's where you feel a weight lifting off your shoulders, only to drop to your stomach; it's not a half hearted compromise, rather, it's sincere, something so eerie and far away from the usual 'take it or leave it' Katsuki Bakugo, but… you'll take it. With a broken smile and a coo into his shoulder. You turn to look at the stars as well, and Katsuki cracks a small smile now that you can't see it, because compromising actually feels good, relieving or whatever. He doesn't want to think about whether, in any sense, he's on your mind or not, he'd rather show you a piece of his own mind, a crack opening to see inside his heart -it's almost too painful that he has to be the one to calm things down. He's never been one to do so, but standing on his feet right now is mandatory. For you, him, whatever the two of you have got going on, because if not, coping won't be effective. He likes to think, you have each other in this, and that's enough for him. To keep things peaceful he has to take an occasional step back, and if that's the price to pay, he guesses he will. Izuku may be gone, he may have turned the two of you into what seems an unfixable broken mess, but at least he's left you with each other. Perhaps, he'll once appear again, in the form of new love, or a smile on your face at the sight of an old childhood photo, and things will be fine again. If only he could have been kinder, or better, or not as competitive, he wouldn't be sorry or trying to fix his own self. For now though rice and teriyaki ought to be the only problems he wants to face.

iii. bargaining | 7.30pm "What if I could have prevented this?" His voice is anything but loud, his chest too hollow, bouncing the voice of his concern around the broadness of his muscles, just to graze into your ears in soft vibrations. The statement alone makes you perk up and swoon your face away from him, hands laid flat and firm against his petrocals as you're finally fixing him with a gaze. Saturdays always bite his ass and Sundays are ever so depressing. This weekend is no less easy for the two of you. Katsuki's barely able to slur words without hissing or cursing, seeing as his jaw is bandaged up by being sliced by a villain at work today, and you've both decided that it's best if he gets to have an early night. "You'll be fine by next week, I'll help you change your bandages" He shakes his head before he buries his face behind his palms, as if trying to hide his emotions from you; you give him the right, with a worried face to match the situation "Not that, shit- no 'm taking 'bout Izuku" Oh You can't really place yourself into why but you've been having the same thoughts as of late. It's only natural, you dare say, to convince yourself not to be persistent on guilt tripping that little mellow voice in your head that tried to tell you that everything's going to be fine in the end, but it's in vain- for every time this happens you have to find a new way to occupy yourself to shove the destructive thoughts away. It's probably not right in any sense, to prompt Katsuki to ignore the problem as well, but the thudding of your heart -always matched perfectly by the raindrops that hit on the roof of the house hard enough to make you feel oh so concerned- commands you to find a new coping mechanism to add to your little pile. "I- I just-" A look in his eyes and you're lost in a trance of whether you're going to break his heart by momentarily avoiding talking. It is more than enough to convince you to voice something, anything, but every word that sparks at the back of your brain is washed by astounding waves of anxiety that have your tongue swim in the sea of your mouth. You don't come up with anything to say for as long as a moment lasts. "It's like- I should have been there! I turned down that fucking call because I was sure he could do this on his own" "Katsu" "He fucking- I fucking- I-" "Hey, stop it-" You plea "It doesn't make it any different, I know that but-" He snaps

quicker than you can imagine, prospering away from another call of his name that slips from your lips. Irises turn away from you in wrinkly eyes, furrowed brows and pursed lips. His heart is palpitating so fast, his eyes flicker in what you can read is pain, maybe, you could take some blame to yourself. Not that you have any right trace if thought to come up with comfort, or rather, not like you have it in you to let Katsuki assign this all on himself. "I could-" You start, yet your mouth is dry "I could have been there as well-" It's such an awkward miniscule moment that you share but it's enough to make your heart feel like it's breaking in regret. You're only left to wonder if your friends are feeling that way too, about Izuku's call for reinforcements that Katsuki turned down, that none of them tended to on time. "Don't put this on you" Your stomach, unable to cooperate with any plea of yours to not drown in anxiety, stirs its contents to it's desire, making you sit up; Katsuki's embrace is too void for you right now, your chest is way too hollow for you to not feel alienated. It's in moments like these that you know trying to handle yourself or your life with each other is probably a mistake, a false emotional dependency that should not exist otherwise, and you always hope he gets to prove those intrusive thoughts of yours otherwise. You're taken aback when warm hands find their way around you; it's unexpected and you flinch, but you're soothed the moment your brain processes who it is that's hugging you, bringing you back to reality and breaking your short lived dissociation. He presses his ear onto the crook of your neck, this time, not hissing at the way his wounds ache as his skin tubs on yours. He notices that certain way your breathing's working and he sighs in relief, or sorrow, for he's too scared to ever speak of what's hiding in his chest, or what's adding to him feeling so twisted and evil. "Wanna go for a ride?" He says, unexpectedly, surprising even himself by how absurd it sounds "Where to?" "Niko" He purrs and you let out a giggle "That's too far silly" "I 'on know, heard it's pretty this time of the year" You finally turn around to him, only slightly so as to not disturb his embrace and ruffle a hand through his hair, and pause just before your lips find his forehead. Somewhere deep inside of you it hurts for this to feel so casual, a loving interaction with Katsuki of all people. It feels like some sick trick of betrayal but your eyes are burning onto his skin while your world moves in slow motion. A hand on his cheek isn't as harmful as the addition of another one, yet you still go for that choice, dry lips inevitably set onto pale pink skin, pressing a soft kiss of comfort. "We could go at that spot, near UA, we used to go there a lot when we were high schoolers" Katsuki's words are calm and collected, hidden between gritted teeth so he can appear like his chest is fuller than yours, but what you don't know is that his heart is trying to beat out of his chest, like it's the most secretive, harsh prison. He briefly wonders if by knowing so, you'll hurt as much as him. But your kiss on his forehead, the warm place in which he rests face against your chest it all points to you feeling the same- it's there and he can read every single sign, whether he wants to deny them or not. "Should I get dressed?" A grunt this prolonged means yes. And truth be told the set and scenery of this small driving outlet is almost idyllic; a silent car ride, tainted faces and the gloomy watery corners of one's eyes to match the pouring rain, the slow, mellow music matching in beats with the squeaky wipers. What a perfect, diligent harmony you've got. It feels like a cut to another scene in a slow paced movie. The time is still stuck at 8.15, signifying how it wasn't long ago that you were starting to drown in a pool of bargaining -and voicing it out loud- and a part of you is still sad for thinking that maybe, for Katsuki, you're a coping mechanism. A full rembrandt of what's left of

Izuku's that he doesn't want to give up. You keep wondering if that would be the case had he still been alive. Would he ever have such an attitude stored inside of him for you had you not been dating Izuku on what now counts as ancient history? He parks his car on a narrow little road that splits the woods in half and turns the engine off. Seeing that it's November already, you think about how this is a bad idea, you know how cold he gets, and he's not wearing any jacket but you keep it to yourself. Perhaps, had Izuku been here, he would have brought an extra jacket too. For now, it's foggy windows and died down warm breaths. Thus, with a quivering lip you settle lower into your seat and sigh. "I- I know you like stargazing" He coughs, vermillion eyes pacing back and forth between you and the rain that's clashing on the car's glass "and I got an app and a window on the roof of my car" "But it's raining" "Who caaaares!" He grunts when you pout and turns away from you, something that makes your stomach coil abrasively. You want him to look at you, you want him to- As ridiculous and bitter as it sounds, you're tired of asking yourself if any of this would be happening were Izuku still here. Because he's got a stupid little fucking app on his phone for you. Because you're dying to press your lips onto his skin again. Half an hour ago feels like an eternity has passed already. He cares about you enough to open the app -and switch the location of his phone on- and that's more than enough actually. You glue your eyes to the bright screen and follow it as it pops us with a dark window, asking for confirmation that it's authorized to use the camera of Katsuki's phone. A part of you sinks in the silent death of love at the thought that, yes, he downloaded this just for you. Joy in little things, you figure, is what keeps you grounded, it's what ultimately pushes you to rest your head on his shoulder as he lifts his phone up, facing it on the small opening on the roof of his car. "Can't see past all this water, dammit" "So?" You coo, and the previous small irritation in his voice dies down with a grunt that comes from the depths of his chest. "The app's fine. Feels just like stargazing." You've never done anything similar with Izuku. And there's not even a spec of comparison clouding over your head, despite the guilt that settles in your stomach once again. Looking up to Katsuki, you can see his jaw tensing in the slightest, most probably in pain -you wonder, does his wound still ooze- and you can't help but feel like your eyes are stinging. You sniffle nonetheless. And Katsuki retreats his shoulder, letting your head hang without support as he turns to you. "Maybe, even if we can't see them, they're still there and-" You purse your lips to the side of your cheek, thinking of a reply, anything to say to make his words seem like they've come out of his mouth. "You've turned into quite the poet lately, haven't you?" Your answer should be that no, he hasn't, he's just hurt and confused, numb and afraid, but in turn you're all those things as well, or so he speculates by looking in your eyes. Because he can read people, he can read you, and as much as this has been established, he can't find it in him to speak a word on it. Then again, what's the point in holding anything in if you're going to die one day? The life of a hero is expendable, he's got his rise and fall as number one set in stone, so why should he hold back? He can't bring Izuku back even if he wants to, and he can't possibly stop himself from feeling for you. He remembers finding salvation in holding Izuku down and apologizing. He now finds humility in words that are spoken from his mouth that slip past his consciousness. "I love you- Don't care if it's fucking raining or not- Fuck" There's no time for you to think of a response before he throws a fit; his phone is slammed on the backseat, rocketing to the floor, and the click of his door is heard before he steps out of the car and slams it shut. He's lucky- the rain covers most

of the scream that he let's out and fills the buzzing void in your chest, your head. He said the words first, and your head is pulling you instinctively to your right, just where he was a few moments ago, you want to see if he's facing you, you long to feel your eyes meet his. You manage to collect the only ever courage you have left and push the thought of Izuku away from your mind, click your door open and shoot out of the car. Just like him. Like you're his echo. "Don't say a fucking word" He dismisses your open mouth, as if he can hear your breath clearer than this deafening rain, but you're not having it. "But i- i" "Shut up, as if you know-" "But I feel the same way" You whisper "What" He yells, and you scream at him to get back in the car, so you can talk, clearer. Though when he does, he's burning his eyes on your lips, then your eyes, then he never makes any move towards you, as if everyone and anything is on you. But none of you takes the bigger leap towards each -justified, because there's trembling in your movements and hesitation in your heads. And then your lips meet his. Tenderly, painfully, religiously Your first kiss is cursed by numbing ache, but it feels so right, like the warmest summer evening, or the most hazing bonfire during a cold winter night. Regret can't eat you alive for that one. And Katsuki, even with his lips still pressed against yours knows he will think about this kiss as a sin and a betrayal for far too long, he knows it'll torment him through the darkness of whatever tonight could mean. If only he gets through this night, he'll be fine Tomorrow you'll wake him up with a soft "how'd you sleep'' again and he'll be fine. The void and guilt inside his chest will get filled up with the warmness of being embraced first thing in the morning. Perhaps in time he'll convince himself that Izuku would never mind what's going on between the two of you, if you're meant to be endgame.

iv. depression | 12.07 am

Soft bubbles that smell like carnation and the auburn flicker of the fire that shines on top of a plethora of candles set the atmosphere for this evening. The lack of bright light -being that the whole city has been in a black out for several hours- is gentle to yours and Katsuki's eyes. What should have been matched with some of the artificial warmth the heater next to the bathtub, that should be providing for the two of you. Instead, it's him that keeps the temperature high.

Your muscles hurt and his wounds ache, as always, after a tiring day of hero work. You guess that's your daily nature; after hours and hours of overworking your body and soul, two people like you only get to spend the little time they have together like this. Late at night, curled up against each other, borderline sleeping in a bathtub. You're sure the water has a pinkish red tint to it -somewhere, a wound of his or yours is bleeding more that you'd like to believe is natural.

Katsuki is unbothered to check who's wounds are worse.

For the first time in a while, his mouth isn't dry, or chapped, a killer to his heart, for he can't find the right choice of words to spell to you. He should be fine with having you curled up against his chest, but somewhere along the way he finds it hard to experience the warmth he's trying to emit. And he thinks he finds your response to this unspoken mind trick when he cups your hands with his, checking at your fingers. Not a single prune or puckered line to clasp a non indifferent reaction from the back of his brain.

He's content with the way time seems to have stopped, trapping you in a moment filled with cold granite tiles and blood spoiled water that smells like lavender. In a movement he abandons your hands, watching them float over his. You hum -it's warm and welcoming, as if you're saying you're content too- and rest the back of your head to the crook of his neck.

His only reply is to nuzzle his nose into your neck as well. Placing a tiny kiss to the skin against his lips, tangling his fingers through your wet hair.

Small reassuring acts of

love with nothing special into them help you relax completely into him. "Kinda nice that you can see the stars so bright tonight" If you're looking for a cynical answer, then Katsuki's ever your man. "Of course they'd show when it's pitch black outside. What'd ya expect?" With your eyes glued to the glass ceiling for a long while you wonder, what did you expect really? Words that spiral in your brain are always spoken, leaving you numb and inquiring, searching for an answer in the deepest curves of your brain. When burning your eyes into his will never work, he decides to let his gaze melt holes in the vast of his bathroom windows. The beauty of minimalism leaves him cold and lonely, as if there's facelessness in the black veil of the sky that mimics the inside of his home. He curls into you by pressing you against his chest tighter. You never ask him why his bathroom is built the way it is -with that little corner window in the ceiling, neither does he know what he'd answer to you were you ever in a position to. He doesn't know how to apologize for being who he is, or his that window makes him feel like he used to be assured and secured on what was assigned to him by birth. (His parents’ money, a strong quirk.) He doesn't know how to apologize for still living in traits of his life that could make you feel like he's been everything but fair to Izuku. And all you probably think about, he convinces himself is that It'd be ironic to say that you mind having a view of the stars while having a midnight bath. It's a full moon tonight too -the glowing sky orb floating just above the furthest line of the horizon, illuminating the sky. And you, with your eyes shut by now and facing the glass ceiling, seem like you feel the weight of the moon pulling you in. What Katsuki knows for sure is that you have a terrible migraine that has you frowning horrendously. It's because of the fool moon, you'll say when the blond asks you why you're suffering, it always gives you migraines and he'll sit by you as you're making him his bath, holding your hand while he asks you to join him. He's nothing but a lover of roughness and void, he doesn't know how you're still with him, or how you ever fell for him. He feels slow, like a worn out tire, washed to a shore by the sea. But his hands, calloused and sculpted harshly even only by the -not so many- years of being a pro, aid to your comfort, not in his need to be a hero -more like, in his need to be human, or not feel inadequate, to not feel like his life is a pit of guilt because Izukus is over. And it has been for a long time. And his, is taking turns so abruptly that his gut churns and pleads. Two bulky thumbs run over your eyebrows, smoothing the short coarse hair and soothing the bone, swooning the sore pain away; it feels like custom made heaven, sweet and fluffy, and the water in the bathtub won't get cold, nor will his hands. You're so relaxed into him, bones turned into jelly and skin tingling at his touch. Every circle he's rubbing on your forehead is releasing tension you didn't know you had piled up. The soft splashes of water are merely inaudible when compared to his heartbeat, but you can't feel it. Not yet. It's not tense enough for him to feel like his heart is beating out of his chest. "You any better?" Cold. Brutal. Almost as if his hands belong to someone else, but that's Katsuki for you, or anyone else as a matter. You turn your head to him, wearing a tiny, worn out smile as you lean you mean into him, clashing your lips over his, bumping your nose to his cupid's bow when you're done. Katsuki, you're sure, closes his eyes in a feeling that doesn't seem pleasant and you do the most expected thing -retreat. It hurts; watching you slip away, turn your head to face the stars outside of his window, wiggle your body away from his, to collect your knees and press them against your chest. It's devastating how a small denial to a kiss can harm you in such a way. It's either his fault, or yours. Because somewhere deep inside his head he's convinced

himself he's a rebound. Someone you'll get over when you start getting better. And he's probably convinced himselfhes viewing you in this way, somehow. "You could have at least kissed me back" You whisper, shivering. The water is cold, finally, it was so nice while the warmth washed over your skin. Almost like a lie. "I-" He huffs, buries his head into his wet palms. He can't speak, for if he does, the crack in his voice, the high pitch of it, will snitch on his torment. He tries to shove it away, when he shoots his hands to your direction, trying to pull you into him again. When it doesn't work, you swear you see the corners of his eyes sparkle just a tad. It's alienating, when you've seen him cry and have numerous break downs, more times than you've seen him smile or laugh, you feel like you're foreign to the slight emotion that gathers in his eyes, now forming a pit, never spilling down the harsh lines of his cheeks. The moment a salty streak appears on his skin, you can help but wonder, what would happen if only you could stop your own tears from falling. You can't ask him to talk to you, it's more than obvious. You're deprived of any logical sentence forming mechanism in your brain, knees like jelly, arms heavy as two whole buildings in the verge of collapsing. One word of his and your heart will unleash all the ache that gathers slowly in your throat. "'M not just here cause Izuku died" There you go, not once, but seven times, feeling your heart pierce holes in your body, hanging from his every word, cursing yourself when you grasp his meaning. Wild and unleashed and raw, a plea, an inquiry. A way of masking his insecurity and it's your fault he's feeling this way. "You're not," You start, lost and perplexed "I love y-" But it does down faster than you would have wanted it. You turn your head away from him for a second. With the moon so high, and the city lights non existent, you can distinguish the Taurus constellation, just below the moon, and so very faint. Your throat is tight, your neck is sore, your voice won't come out -you wonder why astrology is right about Taurus controlling the throat- and you don't know how to make him feel good about himself. If only you can show him the constellation he'll be fine, right? Do zodiac constellations make him as excited as they make you? Or is that just a role he's taken upon himself to stick with you? His lips clash with yours, water splashing around you as he shifts, and he hugs you close to him. It's your cue, to close your eyes and move your lips in sync. Its a sullen form of desire, that dangerous one, where you get his lips to bleed from how hard you bite down onto his lip and twist and pull and clash him into you again because you can't get enough. You tell yourselves you have to live for this present, even if the past makes it unbearable. Just when your hearts feel like they'll jump out of your chests and dissolve into the lavender smelling bubbles, this time painting the water in a deep carmine, you clash your chest to his and he feels as if, he's wanted, here and now, even if the feeling won't last for long. And then it's hands that roam bruised skin, fingers than dig into softness or thick muscle, fingernails that dig into scalps painfully, until they draw blood as your teeth clash. It's passion, and only in the way your hips ghost over his, swaying in the water, as he's grunting "see, am kissing you back" and "We'll never be clean at this rate" "I'll massage your head when we're done" You breathe, pulling back for a second, as he sucks a spot on your neck, handling your back just to press your chest to his face. "Fuck, I love yo-" You shush him with your mouth on his, forehead sticking to his when a slit on your nose gets smashed when it scrunches against his cheek. He doesn't have to say it, you don't have to hurt him like this. It almost doesn't matter -the cold- when he pulls you to the edge of the bathtub and buries himself into you, you simply shiver by the way his thumb rubs your clit, thrusting your hips in rhythm to

meet his. And he bites on to your collar bones, eyes teary and heart heavy after he lets you set the pace, occasionally thrashing into your touch, his gut churning more and more as you go. It's only when he takes matters into his own hands -lifting you and pressing your back again the wall, putting out some candles I'm the process- hand on your face to shove some hair away, and legs wrapped securely around him that you both find release. Screaming in agony, crying in what could be mistaken for pain, sticking your foreheads together as your breaths tingle into one hot huff of air that travels up and way from you. You lock eyes with him, just before he lets his body collapse into the water, limbs numb and sore. "Please don't leave too." You whisper, sinking down just behind him, fetching for the shampoo bottle from behind you. He doesn't respond. Instead, he mimics you and rests his head on the crook of your neck, eyeing you backwards, pressing his lips into an upwards line. You're not sure you'll be able to get over this void soon, and you can't help but plead. Later, as you're washing through his hair, you show him the Taurus constellation and his eyes beam like a child's when he says "hey I'm a Taurus" all while tending trying to tend for the bite that he left on your shoulder. He doesn't ask to find the cancer constellation. You don't remember where to find it. The moon is too bright for you to even try.

v. acceptance | 6.59 am

The last rembrand of a star shines in a portrait of purples and oranges. The beautiful afterglow of the previous night, the first ray of sun washes its shine away, almost entirely, before a second can come. To paint the sky in blues, sprinkle the marine shade as to spoil the darkness' leftovers.

The night star, or morning star, tolerates a third, then forth ray of sunlight, and your watery eyes flicker at the scene, your head curling deeper into Katsuki's chest, humming as his hand wraps tighter around you, rubbing frantically over your skin to create some friction. It's only then that you're reminded how beautiful warmth is.

Your ear is cold -after Katsuki's doing while playing with the roots of your hair- and you tuck it under a few strands, instantly noticing the difference in temperature. Katsuki is cold as well, shivering slightly even with the blanket that's wrapped around the two of you. You can't help but wish that you were in bed, curled in a blanket cocoon, sleeping in the most sappy, eerie way.

But spending the night at the beach in early September night's has been a favorite activity of yours for the past few years. Long gone are the July nights spent in agony at the beach in Musutafu, nights that have allowed you to know Katsuki like the back of your hand. You can't take them back, replace them with memories of a happier process of getting to know him. You're not sure he wants to do that too.

He yawns slightly, squishing your head under his elbow to rub his tired eyes, breaking the loudsy inhale to chuckle at your pretend squirming. Avoiding your hair as to not hurt you while scratching the stubble hair on his cheeks -flinching slightly at it- before he moves your hair away from your ear, laughing trumphically at his doing.

"Nooo, I'm cold"

He chuckles again, running the tips of his fingers through your hair and tapping his palm over your ear. "Better now?"

"Katsu!"

You smile into his chest, trying to muffle your giggles, deciding to cook into him further.

His heart might as well burst. He thinks to himself that this is more than something he could have asked for, years of putting the effort in being with you awarding him in moments like this. Moments where he can see Venus shine faintly in the sky, feeling blessed by the planet of love as he places kisses to the top of your head.

I'm times like these, it's hard to look back and remember he used to beat himself over trying to convince himself he was drawn to you only because Izuku died. It feels like there's more behind it. Some karmic pull, some aligned stars, fates arranged in such a way that

you were meant to end up in this moment. Even if none of this is true and he's lost in superstitial bullshit, trying to explain things with something that bears no resemblance to simple logic, he figures there aren't any fresh wounds in his body. Time has flown since the last time he caught himself bathing in his own blood, but he's not reckless any more -neither are you- he doesn't go tormenting himself with wounds that will take long to heal. He can't remember times that have been tougher than this. But he's attached to the warm sand, moist still from the night's angry chill, so much that he slips one hand out of the blanket and sinks it low into the ground. It's so pleasant that he doesn't feel the ground pulling him in, or down. He's got a heart that will withstand his will to get up any time he wants to, and a pair of legs that will at his command, a chest that heaves with breaths while you're showering him with kisses. He won't get to spend an eternity like this, not even as many years as he thinks will be enough for him to enjoy this, but he's figured that there's eternity hinged in every moment, of taking care of yourself before you take care of someone else, so you don't hurt others around you. He's surprised with how much he's changed; he is aware that change is inevitable, through all the compromises that he's had to not condemn, all the soft words he's forced himself to say to you, to himself, to the point he's become softer, mellowed. Knowing he'd never forgive himself if he came to lose you to his grief. "We should get up, I'm sure Mina and Ochaco will be freaking at this point." He chuckles, hiding his tongue in the back of his mouth, as if to fish for a reply. "Kirishima and Denki will-" "Let the fuckers do as they wish, it's my wedding day, I decide when I show up. I can't with this enthusiasm" "Oh my god" You fake gasp, clapping your mouth "this is it? You're not going to marry me? You've lost your spark? Oh me. Oh my, whatever do I do?" You laugh, feeling the vibrations of his chest as he's laughing too, ruffling your hair in the messiest way he can imagine "There, now your hair is unfixable and I get to say it's you who left me at the altar" You burst out in giggles as you're trying to get up -efforts wasted in vain, because he's pulling you back onto him, for a kiss, one that makes your lips feel like cotton candy that slowly melts away, fuzzily yet so watery and with such delicacy. He gets up soon after you, folding the blanket neatly -too neatly- only pausing to take in the moment. Blue blotch after blue blotch is flooding the sky, almost every hint of purple gone, giving in to that warm tangerine light of the early sun. Katsuki sighs and you link your arms around his elbow. Content, happy. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't much of those himself. There's nothing holding him back. And so, he guesses, this is goodbye. The official one. Not melded with an apology, not fueled by regret. It's a silky woven letting go. There are no tears left for him to shed, there's no more trembling to violently shake your body awake at night. There's nothing but good in the memory of Izuku. Not even the subtle wish for him to be here, and happy with you. As the bright, starry light of Venus is outshone by the sun, he places another kid to the top of your head. "I'll see you at 5" "I'm going to be fashionably late" You argue, turning around to wield your hands around his neck and almost linking your lips to his. "Don't you fucking dare" He kisses you "Or what? You'll blow everyone to pieces?" He kisses you again, then again, then once more. "Might as well" And that's Katsuki for you, even in the calmer, softer version of himself. The personification of the twilight hours, even if he's going to bed at 10pm, wiggling his feet under the covers until you join him. He's the only reason you're still sane and you won't ever lose him. He won't lose you, in return.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha #bakugou #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

[sinnamonrolle]

[ the little moments] ♡ Leviathan

4 - That moment when you baked cream puffs with Leviathan.

✿ part of a series now! ✿

❀  gender neutral reader  ❀

“What are you making?” you asked, peeking over Levi’s arms.

“GAH!” Levi yelped. “BEGONE, DEMONS!—oh. It’s just you. Why did you sneak up on me??? It’s not fair for my poor heart, okay.”

Levi set down the spatula into the bowl and patted his chest a few times, clearly spooked by your unannounced arrival. You felt bad for scaring him, but his reaction was utterly adorable. There was a faint blush across his cheeks, and all you wanted to do was see it again and again.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, giving his head a few pats for good measure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The blush deepened at the contact between you two, but Levi didn’t push you away. He only turned his head and grumbled with a small pout, “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

You looked at the dough in the bowl, the cup of beaten eggs on the counter, and the bottles of whip cream neatly lined up to the side. “So, what are you making? Do you need any help?” you asked.

He perked up instantly, and all lingering signs from the scare vanished. As he whipped out his D.D.D. from his pocket, he began explaining to you.

“So, you see,” Levi began, his fingers moving furiously against the screen, “in the anime ‘The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl’, in one episode, Ruri-chan visited one of her human friends and they made cream puffs together, and as I was rewatching that episode, seeing Ruri-chan enjoying her cream puffs that she made with her own two hands also made me want to make my own cream puffs, because if I make it myself, then it’ll be like eating it with Ruri-chan, you know, but I’ve never made cream puffs before so I’m following a recipe and yeah. That’s where I am right now—Did you get all that? You look a little dazed.”

When Levi talked about something he’s passionate about, the purple in his eyes rose and fell in accordance to his emotions. It’s something that took you a while to notice, but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. For example, when Levi was sad, the purple swallowed most of the orange, leaving behind a sliver of dark orange. And when Levi was angry, and you meant really angry, only a tiny amount of purple circled his pupil. The bright orange consumed all other colors, and it almost seemed to glow. But when Levi was happy, that’s when his eyes were the warmest orange. The purple was mild, nestled underneath hues of oranges—you thought it was a beautiful combination of colors.

Like currently. You were utterly entranced by the way the orange seeped into the paler orange, pushing down the purple until all you could see was the sunset in his eyes. Too entranced that you appeared dazed to Levi, but not to the point that you didn’t listen to what he was saying.

When you refocused again, Levi turned away to the ingredients on the countertop, hands reaching for his headphones only to meet the collar of his cardigan. It seemed to be a habit of his. When he was nervous or feeling out of place, he often reached for his headphones to feel safe, to feel protected against the world. But he didn’t have them today, probably because he planned on baking and didn’t want them to get dirty or to get in the way.

“Of course,” Levi mumbled, tugging his cardigan closer to his body, “I shouldn’t expect a normie like you to understand, why did I even bother? There’s no way you would care about something stupid—”

“I was listening,” you said firmly. “By making cream puffs, you will feel like you’re eating them with Ruri-chan, right? It’s not stupid at all, Levi. I think the idea is adorable. Can we make them together?”

Levi spluttered and turned further away from you, red ears peeking out of his hair.

“That-that’s not fair! Acting so cute, especially with that head tilt! It’s like you’re trying to KO me!” Levi complained, but he finally turned to look at you. However, his eyes were constantly moving between the bowl of batter and your face. “Although… if it’s on purpose, I, uh, I wouldn’t necessarily mind… BUT that’s not the problem here! Are you sick or something? Why did you look so out of it? Like, like something came and ate your soul! You can’t let anyone eat your soul, okay?!”

There was no need for shame in this house, so you confessed with a straight face. Besides, there wasn’t any reason to hide it from Levi, whose concern for your soul had his hands on your shoulders, all of his inhibitions regarding intimacy out the window.

“I got distracted by your eyes,” you said honestly. “When you’re really happy, your eyes are this really pretty shade of orange. It reminds me of sunsets and autumn trees that we have in the human world.”

It took Levi a minute or two to process what you just said, but when it registered, he froze up. His hands clamped down harder on your shoulders, fingers squeezing you as he choked out, “A-ah… I, I see…”

His eyes bore holes into your clothes, not daring to meet yours, as red bloomed beautifully on his cheeks. It was just tempting you to touch it, to feel the warm soft skin with your fingertips, to encourage the blush with pinching and kneading, but just as you started to move for his cheeks, Levi removed himself from you and showed you a picture of cream puffs, drawn in a familiar anime style.

“Th-this, AHEM, this is what Ruri-chan made,” Levi said, the blush still lingering on his cheeks as he explained. “She cuts it completely in half and then they put the cream inside.“ Then, he swiped to another picture. “This is the recipe I found. I’ve already cooked the dough on the stove, so all I have left is to mix the perfect amount of eggs into the dough.”

You lowered the hand that was reaching for Levi’s face and smiled at him. Even though you really wanted to touch his cheeks, you were still satisfied from the way Levi was enjoying himself with baking. It was rare to see Levi so unbridled and unabashed with his happiness in a public space, although perhaps the House of Lamentation wouldn’t count as public.

Something this rare... you didn’t dare disrupt.

“Then, let’s mix the eggs together,” you offered, turning to grab the measuring cup of beaten eggs. “Is this the amount that we need?”

Levi picked up the spatula he had set down earlier and replied, “There’s four eggs in there, but the recipe said that it’s really finicky. We just have to make the dough a good consistency. Let’s see… we need it shiny, thick, and smooth.”

The mixing went well. Levi was extremely strict with making sure the dough came out well, and while you did some baking before here and there, you definitely weren’t an expert on the amount of eggs that needed to be in cream puff dough. You were glad Levi knew enough for the cream puffs to come out looking absolutely delicious, because you weren’t sure if your heart could handle Levi breaking down into tears.

“Be careful when you’re cutting it in half,” Levi said nervously, watching closely as you sliced a cream puff. “Don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll freak out if you do. I don’t know how to reattach fingers, so I’ll probably have to go get Satan but wouldn’t it be too late by then? How long does it take before human fingers aren't able to reattach? Ah, but we have magic so—”

“Levi,” you said, patting his arm in a consoling manner, “I understand your concerns, but I’ll be fine. I promise to be extra careful, but you shouldn’t hold the whipped cream can—”

Pop.

“—too tightly…” you finished, but it was already too late.

The bottle of whipped cream, branded with a logo of Little Devil, exploded from the top. Some of the cream decorated the kitchen countertop in white spots and some fell on your hand, but most of it landed on Levi. You could barely see his face through the thick layer of white.

“...”

“Pfffftttt—cough, cough!” you started laughing, only to immediately cover it with coughs. It didn’t sound believable at all, but you continued on, setting the knife to the side. “Levi, are you okay?”

Before he could respond, much of the cream fell from his face in a huge glob, leaving behind a white coating with varying thickness and two spots where his eyes were. You choked back the laughter as best as you could, but it was hard to stop your lips from twitching. It wasn’t helping that he looked somewhat like a clown.

“Are, are you okay, Levi?” you asked again, biting down on your lips to stop it from forming into a smile. “That’s a lot of whipped cream…”

Levi opened his mouth, but you couldn’t see his lips at all, only a dark, gaping hole that opened and closed.

“Unbelievable…” he said, and you would have helped him clean the cream off his face if you didn’t absolutely lose it then and there, doubling over as you wheezed, slapping a hand against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, “but, oh my goodness, Levi, you—AHAHAHA, you look like a clown! A clown! Levi, I’m so sorry but—”

When you took another look at Levi, he was looking at you in equal parts disappointment and embarrassment as he wiped off most of the white cream with a hand, washing it under the faucet.

Even though most of the whipped cream was gone, the look he sent you almost launched you into another wheezing fit, but you steadied yourself as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” Levi grumbled, but this time you could see the pout on his lips and the absolutely adorable way his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, with a bit of guilt, and reached for the remaining cream hanging onto his bangs. “Here, let me get that—”

Levi caught your hand.

“You complete idiot,” he complained as he brought your hand to his lips. “Cruel and heartless, I can’t believe you’re my master… Normally, I wouldn’t forgive you for a hundred years but… ” He trailed off, and his eyes, the color of coral, met yours for a brief second before his eyes eluded yours, and his tongue peeked out and licked the whipped cream that had landed on the back of your hand.

Your eyes followed the retracting tongue and the way it swiped gently against his pink lips as it passed through. Dazed, you only processed what had happened when the kitchen air blew against the wet patch on your hand, the cold sensation and the realization warming up your face.

Now, you were the one blushing.

Levi finished with a whisper, “You’re lucky I love you.”

-------

Masterlist!

#obey me #obeyme #leviathan #shall we date #OBEY ME #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #swd om #swd leviathan #obey me one master to rule them all #om! #om! mc #om! fanfic #om! leviathan #levitan #levi x reader #om levi x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi x mc #sfw little post #the little moments #thelittlemoments #oneshot #fluff #gender netural reader #reader insert #fanfic #avatar of envy #leviathan obey me #obey me leviathan

[inviouswriting]

Shower

Simeon x Fem!Reader

Smut. Very... very... smut.

Below the cut has the content for it.

Warnings - It's a smut, but has cockwarming, blowjobs, cunninglus, hairpulling, overstimulation, a mild predatory Simeon, letting that other side he has surface a tad bit, mirrors, a good time.

Shower.

“What do you say to something sweet?”

“I could use some sugar.” You smile up at him, and his eyes seem to shine from the idea of something more.

“Give me a little time to prepare something then.” Simeon disentangles himself from you, you sigh when you move off of Simeon’s lap giving him a forlorn stare at being out of his arms. He just beams a gentle smile. You forgive him, it is hard not to when he has a look of innocence to him. Yet you know what lays underneath that gentle exterior he puts up.

“Alright, I am going to go shower to warm up a little.” You inform him, and he nods in agreement, Simeon looks at the mess left behind, a smirk graces his lips at just how much you were turned on. He goes to work on cleaning the table of the water and yours and his evidence you did anything on the table. He will now have memories of what you both did while eating at it.

His attention is drawn to your DDD going off, and he lifts it to see who was messaging you this early in the morning. It was Mammon, Simeon quickly responds to the message saying you are unavailable, before shutting the phone down so you are alone with Simeon longer. The brothers can wait one day without you.

Simeon feels a little selfish for it, but when the others hog and hound you every waking moment in the day. He does feel jealous when they ask for your time when you are with him. The angel sets about preparing something, hearing the water of the shower just starting. He thinks of something that he can use with you in the shower, tapping a hand to his face. He still feels the sting in his back from your nails, scratches he might enjoy showing off to make others wonder what he does to make you lose control.

Simeon looks in a pantry for an idea to jump out and grins as he tugs out a hidden box he has for chocolates, out of Luke’s reach. He takes a few pieces setting them on a plate and starts heading into the bathroom to catch you before you get out.

You were finishing rinsing conditioner out when you hear the door open and close. The clink of a plate being set down, and gentle humming from Simeon as he stripped to join you. You feel arms circle around your waist tugging you back against himself.

“Sorry I kept you waiting.” Simeon murmurs in your ear, and you relax more when he turns your head to meet him for a kiss. You meet him in a sweet one, a chaste peck before a full deep one. The tongue that prods at the entrance of your mouth is welcomed. Your eyes widen over the sweetness that graces your tongue; you instantly kiss him harder to get more of the chocolate that was on his tongue.

Simeon turns you in his arms to make it comfortable and walks you back to pin you to the shower wall. He pushes his tongue deep into your mouth letting you suck on the appendage as he explores your mouth, memorizing your own unique taste. You hadn’t realized you were moaning into the kiss until you come up for air, panting at the loss of his lips. The tingling kiss that leaves you wanting so much more.

“Air, my lamb, you need to breathe.” He kisses the side of your mouth, and you part your lips for another kiss, only to have him lick your lips. A tease, you chase after him, wanting to kiss him longer. Simeon avoids your mouth, planting small kisses along your jaw, even rubbing his cheek to yours affectionate before he gives you another kiss that makes your head spin.

Simeon lowers his gaze to yours as he seals another kiss with you. You keep your lips parted as he prods your tongue to explore him. You tilt your head up into the kiss, you feel one of his hands palm a breast, squeezing it till his fingers tug at your nipple rolling the nub between his index and thumb. You feel your head spinning much more and legs quivering from the way he makes you feel with affection like this.

The angel breaks the liplock in favor of biting down on your shoulder, you can feel a fang digging in enough for the pressure but not enough to break your skin. A full suck placed on that spot, he even grazes his teeth along your flesh, being mindful of where he leaves his love bites, never on main veins or arteries. When he is satisfied with the red on your neck he gives it a loving kiss, before moving onto the next spot.

You soak up his attention, every ounce he gives when he is like this. You feel your legs trembling, even more when his other hand slides up along your thigh to press his fingers into you. Simeon holds you up against the wall when your legs buckle from the pleasure of him pushing deep three fingers curling them just right. Hot moans fall from your lips right into his ear your mouth is next to, Simeon feels your teeth on it tugging. This makes him thrust his fingers into you a bit faster, you feel yourself losing your grip on standing.

“Go ahead, I have you.” Simeon says into your ear, and under his guide he helps you onto the floor of the shower. He keeps your legs apart as he has free range now to thrust his fingers as deep as they get. You feel yourself overwhelmed in pleasure that you move a hand on top of his to guide him into touching you. Simeon responds with using his thumb to circle and flick over your clit. He sees your legs shaking and stops his hand ministrations, pulling his fingers free from your pussy. You see his fingers covered in your fluids and he looks at it impressed.

“Really made a mess of you here. I am sorry to be a little selfish now but listening to you... and seeing you in such a state.” Simeon sits so his back is against the wall out of the spray of the water. Your eyes go down to his cock and see what he is asking for. He is painfully hard that you see precum streaming from the tip.

“Would you please suck me?” Simeon asks face pink, even grabbing the base of his erection to offer himself, the allure of his blue eyes heated and you crawl forwards to help him out.

“Of course.” You agree, seeing his face light up in relief to the request. You lean down and move a hand to take over for Simeon. You touch over the soft skin of his cock giving him a few tugs to hear him sigh impatient. You run your tongue along the underside following a path of precum to the tip. Once there you sweep your tongue along the very end of the slit teasing him as he had teased you earlier. His response is his hands on the back of your head to guide you down to take him. You deliberately miss taking him into your mouth in favor of kissing along the top of the head and down the shaft.

The grip in your hair tightens just a hair harder from the building pressure he feels. Maybe a bit frustrated, if you had to chance a stare up to the angel’s face he is giving you that one stare to stop messing around with him. You give him one more tease in apology, kissing back up the length of his shaft along the underside paying close attention to the very sensitive spot just below the glands, a spot he loves when you go down on him.

You admire the color difference of the bright pink tip among dark skin, before you take the head into your mouth. Simeon sighs in approval when you go down as far till the tip hits the back of your throat. You still had three inches till you met the base, but you move up to suck on him, following the rhythm of his hips when he thrusts into your mouth. Moans falling from your angel’s mouth in almost a sinful song. Yet what you two do is far from a sin with the love you have.

Simeon feels a blissful sensation run through his spine when you take those last remaining inches. You concentrate on not gagging on him, pulling up to lave your tongue around the head then back down. You press your fingers on his sac rolling it as you please him. Simeon’s hand on your head pets through your hair lovingly.

What he wasn’t prepared for was when you pulled your mouth off to suck just on the tip of his cock, looking up at him as you do so. You focus your attention right here, seeing your angel come undone with a visual that will wonder if he will be able to return to the Celestial Realm after his time with you. A sweet and salty flavor spreads across your tongue, and you look up at Simeon’s face. His eyes are closed, and he is panting hard as more floods your mouth. You greedily swallow his cum down, not wasting or spilling a drop, even squeezing his balls for a little more as you milk him of his seed.

When Simeon opens his eyes, he is greeted to another sight that starts making him hard all over again. You noticed him about to open his eyes and rest the flat of your tongue against his cock underneath as the last of his semen coats your tongue. You give him such a stare, as you use the tip of your tongue to tease the slit.

“My lamb... you have no idea what you do to me.” Simeon rests his hand back on your head and guides your mouth off him. You sit on the floor as you clean your face from any remnants. Simeon watches you for a few minutes, then remembers you have yet to cum yourself. He tilts your head up with a hand and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Let me return the favor now? I was unfair to you.” You get his words, and sit back only to be guides to lay on the floor. Simeon reaches over to turn the water off feeling it running cold. He then lifts your waist up and strewns your legs over his shoulders. You shiver when you feel his hot tongue against your slit again, and pushes his tongue inside of you. He wastes little time in pleasing you, aiming to get you off fast to match him to relax before he is ready for another full romp.

Simeon’s fingers fit in along his tongue, scissoring your hole open to hold your walls so his tongue can delve deep like how he was kissing you earlier. You feel heat pooling at your belly, and you don’t control your voice anymore when you feel him swirl his tongue inside. He never cares about his own taste, not when he aims to please you. Your toes curl when he focuses running circles with his tongue on your clit before sucking on the nub till he feels your entire body shaking.

You cover your own mouth with your arm, biting into it to keep from making high pitched cries. Simeon uses the fingers he has inside to pump when his tongue is outside, then hold your hole open to push his tongue deep, then pulls back to suck on your clit.

“Don’t bite yourself my love. Let me hear you, you know I won’t let up till you scream my name.” A teasing but chiding lilt to his voice, and you pull your arm from your mouth to moan out when he focuses his attention solely on your clit. He uses his fingers to push the hood covering it back and you feel immense pressure in your belly.

“That’s it... about to cum for me... let go...” You feel mortified, as you hold back, you didn’t want to on his face. Yet he was drawing it out of you. Even pushing his tongue deep again his mouth closing over your pussy. The pleasure is too much and after his fingers bump one spot inside of you, you let go in a full gush, screaming his name as loud as possible letting it echo through the shower.

Simeon hums happy to himself as his tongue is greeted with a sweet taste. He knew the difference between fluids, and getting you to squirt was a favorite of his. He keeps lapping at your folds from opening to clit to get all of the fluid that you released.

You are let back down and all you could do was shake and shudder from your last orgasm. Simeon grins to himself at reducing you to such a state, he crawls over top of you, and you lazily greet him in a brief kiss. You smooth your hands through his dark hair, petting his head, paying attention to the top of his head and his face. Gentle rubbing that has him nuzzling his cheek to yours in affection, wanting more with you.

“I want more...” Simeon says, and you knew what he meant. You know the angel wants a lot more than just oral, you admire the way he has stamina to burn through. Part of you wonders if you had a whole day and night with him, of when you can wear him out. You haven’t been able to yet, wondering if it is an angel thing to never tire.

Simeon kisses along your neck again, over the love bites he made. He notes how high they are, that you will have a hard time hiding them from anyone else.

“Good, I want more too... you think we could have fun in front of the mirror?” You voice an idea to Simeon, and see his face light up at the idea. He gets to his knees and collects you into his arms. You both had dried enough for this, and your angel brings you both over to the full floor length mirror. Simeon tests your body to see if you are ready for him again, pushing two fingers inside of you gently, pumping them enough to arouse you. He enjoys the way you grip his fingers, still sensitive to his ministrations.

You are guided with him to sit down with him, Simeon guiding you to sit in his lap, adjusting himself so he can enter you. You press your face against the cold glass of the mirror at the stretch, his fingers and mouth were never a comparison to the size his dick is. After Simeon bottoms out entirely, you feel arms circle around your waist and tugs you to sit in his lap. The motion sends him as deep as he gets, and your hands go to your abdomen where you feel him.

“Good? Too much?” Simeon checks with you, as he moves his hands to guide your legs to rest over his knees. The mirror in front of you; your eyes wander to it, and you were not prepared for the sight that greeted you. Simeon keeps your legs apart with his knees, you see a predatory gaze in his eyes. One you’ve seen on the dance floor. His gaze pins your eyes to his, and you fidget in his arms.

Simeon settles with resting his head in the crook of your neck. He drops his eyes down to from yours to where you are connected to him. Your eyes follow and your face lights up pink at how much of you is stretched to fit the angel. He even tests how much more he can fit with a bump of his hips up, the thrust makes you yelp in pleasure.

“You look good like this, on me, with me inside. I fit perfect... you are so warm and wet. I never want to pull out again... I want to keep doing this.” Simeon lowers a hand down to spread your folds apart getting a better look at your stretched hole around his cock. Simeon uses his free hand at your waist to push you down till the only part visible is his sac, while the rest is buried to the hilt.

You feel full of him, even with his subtle rocking to keep from being stuck. Loving kisses are placed along your shoulder, to the corner of your cheek. You tilt your head away, and Simeon kisses more of your neck, pressing his cheek to yours to feel the soft of your cheek to his own. He is lovingly like this, and you see the expression on his face. Purely happy that you keep it in mind.

Simeon tilts your head back to his, seeking your lips for a kiss. You follow his guide even as he begins to move, bucking his hips up to bounce you on his cock. You open your mouth for a moan only to be muffled with Simeon pushing his tongue deep into your mouth again. You wish you could cling to him, your hands clench and unclench till your angel finds them to lace your fingers together.

Through a cracked eye, Simeon watches you through the mirror, seeing the way your pussy swallows his cock, you feel him twitch. He sees how drenched you are, and the sounds of skin against skin filling the air. Simeon focuses on the sensation around him, tight and warm with wet, he sees the way you glide down on him. He even stills himself a few times just to make you grind on him.

“Please... Simeon...” You plea with him, you feel a kiss on your neck.

“Please what?” His tone is always gentle in your ear, you grip his hands tighter, and he matches your needy grip grounding you to him.

“I want to...” Soft nibbling kisses on your lips, he catches your bottom lip to bite enough to feel his teeth but not enough to break skin.

“You want to what? Cum again? Hold out a little longer my lamb. I’m not anywhere close yet.” You let out a moan, and hold yourself back from that feeling. Simeon feels you clench around him, and he drives himself harder into you, his hands now on your waist guiding you down, rocking you with his hips. Simeon tires of the position you two are in, and arranges you to have you pushed against the mirror in front of you. You brace yourself against the surface, pressing your face against it; Simeon pulls your hips back to his and begins a hard and unrelenting pace to get himself closer to that blissful release feeling.

You are met with pleasure surging through your entire body, your toes curl and your legs shake from each thrust in as he sheds being gentle for want and need now. Each thrust in you are met with the feeling of him bumping your cervix. Your nails scratch at the surface of the mirror, not able to leave indents in it like you did the table earlier.

Simeon lets his own moans out, focused solely on the sensation of your pussy gripping his dick when he thrusts inside. You feel a hand smooth into your hair, nails scratching delightfully along your scalp as Simeon grabs a handful and starts tugging till your head is arched wonderfully back not going far to where it strained. The pull of your hair adds onto what you are feeling, you whine in a way, where he shoves himself deep and stills to bring you down from an orgasm.

“Not yet.” He warns, you feel shivers down your spine from his tone of voice. You hadn’t heard it since the play, and it excited you than scared you in this moment. Simeon lets go of your hair in favor of pulling you up with an arm under your chest, pushing you flush against the mirror. His eyes going down to focus on his cock thrusting in and out of you. You feel him twitching inside of you and your eyes open to find his face twisted in absolute pleasure.

“Alright, my lamb... alright.. Now.. Please.. Let me feel you. Cum for me please...” Simeon’s free hand goes to slip along your folds rubbing your clit in fast circles to stimulate you further. His thrusts are jerky and uneven, There is a swell you feel accompanied by loud moans against your neck where he buries his face into. You are turned on by the sight of your angel completely gone out of control of himself that when you cum again you release such a loud moan that his eyes snap open to see if he hurt you by accident. Instead he is greeted to the same look in his eyes. Fully blissed out and he has to thrust up hard to bury himself from you almost pushing him out.

“My own angel... my love.. My lamb... you are beautiful like this... let me enjoy this further.. Please..” Simeon cums shortly after you do, his own voice echoing out in the shower that seeing him lost in bliss. You can almost make out the halo. You feel hot seed flood inside of you, and Simeon pulls you into his arms to sit back again. Your head tilted to his as he claims your kiss bruised lips swallowing further moans before moving to lay on your sides together.

Simeon stays connected to you for a bit longer, enjoying the heat he feels around him. He keeps his face in the nape of your neck, both of you just outside the view of the mirror. He has one of your legs strewn over his and a hand down massaging your folds around his cock. He spreads them and when you respond by closing your leg on top of his hand to trap it there and grind. Simeon nudges your legs apart enough for him to tease you again.

“I’m too sensitive, Simeon please have mercy.” You plea with him, and feel a kiss to the side of your face.

“Alright, we still have a bit more time. What would you like to do with me?” Simeon runs his hand along your arm and shoulder, feeling how soft it is. You think about his question.

“A bath before we continue? I want to be in your room again.” Simeon hears you and thinks about moving. His thoughts are drawn out when you squeeze him.

“Can we stay like this a little longer? I’m not ready to separate.” You hear him and feel a moment that is beyond just a little intimate. He is insatiable and you are as well with the time allotted to you both to spend exploring and loving each other.

“We can stay like this a bit longer, but can we adjust so I can see your face too?” Simeon agrees and pulls from you long enough to flip you to face him. You blush when he guides himself back inside and you roll your hips down till his cock is fully buried into you once more.

Here you meet his gaze and stare, gentle and you roam your palms over his chest. Simeon enjoys the feel of your palms like this, he returns the touching with his hands down the middle of your back pulling you closer. You move your hands up to his face and rub your thumbs over his cheeks tugging him to meet you in a kiss. You never give him just one kiss, after he has expressed how much just one doesn’t convey his feelings. You rapidly give him kiss after kiss, all over his face earning happy hums of approval. Your fingers get brave and you run a teasing scratch on his shoulders, grazing the skin till he pins you underneath him again.

“If you keep this up, I’ll just have to take you again right here, forgetting the bath and bedroom. Think we can make it to the bedroom?” You look up at him, that same predatory gleam to his eyes, you know it lurks within him, you have seen it with the brothers. They all possess that stare when they want something. Simeon’s are directly on you, and you know he wants you alone, to himself.

“I think we can make it to the bedroom. However, I don’t think I want to.” You answer him truthfully.

“Good. I don’t think I want to either. If I had my way, I will have you on every single surface of Purgatory Hall. Before anyone we know is set to return.” Simeon affirms that he rather stay in the bathroom with you, taking you repeatedly till you are too worn out to move.

#simeon smut #obey me simeon #simeon x reader #simeon om #simeon angel #simeon #obey me #swd simeon #invi's obey me stories

[wordsfromthesol]

Reconciliation

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: togasbetch @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You seek the help of an old friend when you accidentally end up in the middle of a blood bath. Word Count: 1.8k

It all started ages ago, when you walked into the same class as the infamous Timothy Drake. If it wasn't for the Wayne Grant, your parents would never have been able to send you to such a fancy school…not that you understood that at 5 years old. Since that day the two of you were inseparable. You had practically lived at Drake Manor, and when Mr. Freeze killed your parents, you did. Not that Jack and Janet had any idea.

A few years later Jack and Janet were gone and Tim was taken in by none other than Bruce Wayne himself. Thankfully, Tim let you remain in his house. At first, everything was normal, but after the first year, he started to visit you less and less. He became more distant and secretive with each interaction and eventually, he stopped coming altogether. You made the decision to leave once you graduated high school, after all, it had been over a year since Tim had bothered to come see you. What would he care?

You jumped on a bus, clutching a backpack full of your belongings…and a few things from the Drake Manor. Somehow you lucked into a full-time nanny job for some wealthy family a few hours away. You were afforded a small living quarters, a stipend, and access to anything already at the mansion. The little girl was only 3 years old at the time. It's hard to believe that was 2 years ago.

You and Kaylee were upstairs when you heard a large group of people force their way through the front door. As you peaked out of the room, you saw a parade of people with their guns drawn. Immediately you rushed back into the room and whispered, "We are going to play a game."

"Game?" The child's ears perked up. You nodded your head as you made your way to the window. Opening it, you slowly climbed out and motioned for her to follow. You had no idea how long you stayed up there, pressed against the side of the house praying no one came looking. Eventually, the noises had stopped.

"Wait right here for me, okay?" She nodded as you made your way back to the window. "Don't move a muscle until I come for you." Your mouth hung open as you descended the staircase. Bloodstained the room as bodies littered the floor. As you walked over to the filleted bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Barco, your vision blurred as you felt the back of a hand strike your face. Staggering backward, you opened your eyes to see a man grinning before you. His eyes trailed down your cheek and landed on the sizable ring that graced his own finger. You began to feel the warm blood drip down your cheek. A state of panic washed over you just as you felt your knuckles collide with his ribs. Dodging his next blow, you thrust your shoulder into him and grappled for the gun tucked in his waistband. He looked almost pleased as he stared down the barrel.

"Whatcha gonna do with that, hun?" When you refused to answer, he continued. "You know you're going to be dead soon. What's the point…" Your eyes locked onto his hand, which was slowly inching towards your own.

**

The ringing in your ears had just barely subsided when you reached the top of the stairs. You slowly climbed out the window and ushered Kaylee to come inside. Her feet had just touched the ground as the words lucidly fell from your lips. "I need you to promise me that you won't open your eyes. We are going on a surprise trip." If Kaylee could tell something was wrong, she wasn't letting you know. You walked as fast as you could with the small child on your hip.

Your mind had gone completely blank, your eyes glazed over as you drove. You didn't know where you were going, but your motions seemed instinctive. As you pulled up to the gates, everything began to wash over you. Pressing the call button, the only words you could stutter out were: "It's Y/N. I need Tim." Thankfully, the message worked and the gates began to open. You drove up to the ornate front door, but couldn't force yourself out of the car. A knock on the window shook you out of the trance. It was Alfred.

"Mx Y/N, welcome. Perhaps you and your guest would be more comfortable in the house. I have already summoned Master Timothy." You just nodded as you stepped out of the car. Every move your body made relied on muscle memory: opening the back door of the car, unfastening Kaylee's car seat, placing her on the ground beside you. Alfred led you inside to the kitchen before kneeling down and facing Kaylee. "And what is your name?"

"KAYLEEEE!" She gleefully screamed at him.

"Ahhh, Miss Kaylee. How would you like a snack?" Kaylee's eyes went wide as she furiously nodded her head up and down. Kaylee looked up to you for permission as Tim rounded the corner, already speaking.

"Alfred, what's so --" Tim froze as he saw you sitting at the kitchen counter.

"You my Y/N/N's friend?" Kaylee narrowed her eyes as she glared at Tim. Her eyes softened as Tim slowly shook his head yes. "Make sure they get ban aid. Prefably a princess one." Once satisfied, she turned her attention back towards Alfred and her snack.

**

You turned towards Tim, revealing the gash on your cheek surrounded by a newly forming bruise. Tim rushed to your side, grasping your hand in his, just as the words began spilling from your mouth. "Tim, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know where else to take her. They were dead..."You felt your body giving out, "all of them…"

"Calm down. We'll figure this out. You need rest." He refused to let you speak anymore as he scooped you up from the chair and carried you upstairs. Carefully, Tim sat you on his bathroom counter and began cleaning the wound. Once it was bandaged he brought you over to the bed. "Now what happened?" He looked at you, his heartbreaking as he watched the tears fall from your eyes.

"They're dead. So many bodies. Tim, I can't see anything but blood." You collapsed into his chest, trying to conceal the overwhelming panic.

**

You had no idea how long you stayed like that, all you know is you woke up with Kaylee cuddled to your chest and Tim sitting at the adjacent desk.

"Tim?" His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice. You slowly got up and walked down the hall and into the study. You didn't check to see if Tim was following you, but you knew he was. Ignoring the unknown man already occupying the room, you continued onto the balcony. "I just don't know what happened." Your eyes glazed over as you stared into the distance. You knew if you looked at Tim, you would break down again. "People stormed in with guns. Me and Kaylee hid. Once I came back in, everyone was dead. Her whole family. Their security team. Everyone. And then this man came up and struck me. I thought I was dead. All I could think of was Kaylee, sitting on the roof, alone, confused. And I shot him." You turned around and stared into Tim's dark blue eyes. "They're going to kill me now. Aren't they?" The tears bubbled up, but you refused to let them fall.

"Y/N, how much did you know of that family?" Concern laced his voice. That voice that you hadn't heard in years. That voice that used to be your home.

"They were rich and needed a nanny." You looked down at your fiddling fingers, "I didn't have many options, so I didn't ask any questions."

Tim took a deep breath, pushing down his anger. "They are…were one of the biggest crime families in the country." The words rang in your mind as you forced your eyes back on the horizon. You didn't even realize Kaylee had woken up and walked into the study. Or that the unidentified man took her by the hand and led her from the room carrying a fairytale book. "You really didn't know?" Tim's brows furrowed.

Too many emotions were spinning around your head until one of them exploded. "Why the fuck would I know that?!" You made no attempts to sedate your anger.

"You worked for them for years, Y/N!"

"Well clearly you knew, so maybe an old friend should've warned me!" The anger wasn't geared towards him, not really. Though seeing him again, feeling all this again, that's something you never thought you'd have to do. And that was just the icing on the cake. An eerie silence blanketed the air. "I shouldn't have come here," you mumbled before turning to leave. "I shouldn't have put you in danger."

**

Tim stood stoic as your words played over and over in his mind. He never told you of his nightly activities for this exact reason. So you wouldn't be thrust into this chaotic world. And now here you are, begging for his help, and he let you walk away. Again.

A pillow slammed into his face, knocking him from the stupor. "Probably not a good idea to let them leave. Love of your life, Barco heiress, not a great combination."

"Shit." Tim pushed past Jason, ignoring his snide remarks because unfortunately, he was right. Tim grabbed your arm just as you opened the front door. "Wait!" Tim yelled as he pushed the door closed. "I can't let you leave."

"Wh --"

"Look," Tim cut you off and began pulling you through the house. "I need to show you something."

**

"Where…where am I standing right now?"

"The Batcave." His voice faltered as he stopped in front of his Red Robin costume.

"So you're a superhero? Are you kidding me?"

"I don't have any powers, so I don't think I would qualify…" Tim's voice trailed off as he watched your eyebrows raise and a disapproving smirk form. "Anyways. I can help. I want to help."

"I can't ask you to do that." You tried to turn away, but Tim laid his hands on your shoulders. His eyes lingered on yours.

"You were supposed to be safe. Away from me. That's the only reason I let you go. I was wrong. You're safer with me and I'm not letting you go again."

#Tim Drake #timothy jackson drake #tim drake fanfic #tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader #Red Robin #red robin fanfic #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #red robin x you #batboys #batboys fanfic #batboys x reader #batboys imagine #batboys x you #batfamily #BatFam #batfam fanfic #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #dc reader insert #dc comics x reader #dc comics reader insert #tim drake x you #Tim Drake x Y/n

[impaladolan]

Home Alone - Grayson Dolan

summary: after a long week of work, y/n needs some sort of relaxation and relief. although, her outlook on relieving her frustrations isn’t what grayson had in mind...

warnings: tid bit fluffy, swearing, vibrator use, & smut

a/n: been in my unfinished drafts for a bit..

"Are you sure you don't want to tag along, baby?" Grayson longingly questioned, his brows crinkled and his lips almost forming a pout.

"I haven't been able to do laundry all week. God knows it won't get done unless I do it now." Y/N chuckles, balancing a full basket of freshly dried clothes on her hip, watching her lover wrap his fist around the front door's handle.

Every other weekend, at the Dolan residences, the two brothers, and sometimes their wives, would gather with some of their friends and watch their favorite football teams. And later on, they'd play board games or watch some movies. Normally, Y/N would be the one begging Grayson to hurry up and get ready to attend the biweekly event, except this time.

Y/N has different plans...

It had been a brutal week at work, her boss was currently taking out her "divorce emotions" on her employees and Y/N was getting the rougher end of it. She was relieved when it was finally the weekend and she could stress clean, calm her nerves in some sort of self efficient way and relax after a tough couple days.

She hadn't even had the thought of a sexual release, until she had dreamt multiple naughty scenarios just last night during her deep slumber. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what all she had dreamed, but she remembers waking up with a dripping arousal and a sore ache at her very center. And though her husband was laid right next to her, perfectly capable of satisfying her womanly needs, she decided using other resources would be a better fit.

Don't get her wrong, she loves being pleasured by the only man who knows exactly how to, but she felt embarrassed. She didn't want to come across as a sex-crazed women to Grayson, even though it would never make a difference to him.

They're married, for goodness sake.

"I can stay back and help out. We could even have our own little movie night if you wanted," He began, releasing his hand from the door and taking a few steps toward Y/N, whose lips turned into a cheesy smile as he drew closer to her.

"Just you and me," He took the basket filled with clothes from her hip and set it on the floor, intertwining his large hands with her smaller ones, eliciting a short laugh from Y/N. He brought her closer to his frontside, creating a ballroom dance-like formation and began shuffling around with her in his arms. Like an old married couple, they slowly danced around the room, him twirling her in his grasp while Y/N admirably gazed upon him.

Her cheeks were rosy with admiration, finding his little act of affection adorable. "You get easily distracted, huh?" Y/N grinned, resting her chin happily on his shoulder, his minuscule beard hairs tickling certain parts of her neck.

"Well, you looked too pretty over here by yourself," He softly explained against her ear. "And I wanted to dance around a room with a beautiful woman like you. So, I am." He lowered his hands beneath her and slew her into a romantic dip, planting a sweet kiss upon her lips. She returned one back, feeling her heart grow two sizes larger, much like the Grinch movie portrays, if anything.

"Grayson, I know how much you enjoy football, especially with the boys," She was only making excuses, but he had tempted her to just cuddle on the couch all day and watch plethoras of movies and munch on various snacks. But the low rattle in the depths her core was motioning her in a different way, and she just couldn't survive the rest of the day without fixing her little problem.

"Hmm, you're right. But when I get back, we're ordering take out and watching movies. Got it?" He chuckles, bringing the both of them back up into a standing position.

"M'hm, be safe." Y/N smiles, planting another kiss on her lover's lips before leaving his warmth. She waved goodbye to him as he left their abode, sweetly grinning as she went back to finishing up the laundry before the real reason she was staying home, would begin.

Though the couple's intimate relations seemed innocent and loving, they each had a different side to them, specifically in the bedroom.

The two never shied away from new experiences and would most certainly dabble into different areas of the "sex world," if you will. They, of course, had their preferences and different kinks, but Y/N seemed to be more open and freeing for that sort of stuff.

For the different occasions that they felt a bit more lustful and yearning for one another, they kept a locked trunk of knickknacks in their closet. You see, that's the one Grayson knows about, but Y/N keeps a smaller one, filled to the brim with all of her own toys, in a section of her closet that he never really pays attention to. If he had any idea that she kept self-pleasuring items for her own uses, he'd be absolutely ballistic.

Thankfully, he doesn't...

The moment Y/N threw the last bits of dirty laundry left, into the washer, she practically sprinted to their shared bedroom. After rummaging through the trunk filled with "accessories," she found a nice, pretty pink vibrator to do the trick, as well as a black silk blindfold to shield her own eyes. She was already rid of her clothes and sprawled across the wide bed in an instance, tying the piece of cloth over her eyes. 

Though, unbeknownst to Y/N, Grayson was already on his way back home. As soon as he had pulled into his brother's driveway, they had called to cancel— a certain emergency about something Grayson didn't really pay attention to listen to. He was thrilled that he didn't have to leave Y/N at home, all by herself to do chores all day. And luckily, their houses weren't too far apart from each other, so Grayson was back home within fifteen minutes of leaving it.

He didn't feel the need to text Y/N, she was probably busy anyway and possibly wouldn't respond. He figured she would hear the garage door open and expect that he was already home.

Little does he know...

As soon as he was parked and out of his vehicle, Grayson was trudging down stairs to the laundry room, in search of Y/N. He was surprised that she wasn't there, but he figured she might just be folding on the couch, trying to get ahead on one of the TV series the two were drawn into.

Grayson chuckles as he makes his way back upstairs, though his brows curtly furrow, his ears almost perking at the muffled sounds coming from the hallway.

Their shared room, to be precise.

With a pondering look upon his face, he kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards his bedroom, quietly twisting the door handle and pushing it inward. He opens the door wide enough to secretly look inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness that enveloped the entire expanse. The noises he had heard only seconds ago were more prominent, and his eyes had fallen on the object creating the aroused sounds;

Y/N.

She was laid out on their bed, legs wide open and shaking while her hands were constantly pressuring a fucking sex toy against her soaked pussy. Grayson froze, pure anger washing over him and turning his face a turbulent shade of red, washing away his pleasant mood. He almost stormed in there, ready to rip the stupid machine away from her hands and show her what a real orgasm feels like.

But he somehow contained himself, and instead, watched the scene play out in front of his very own eyes, vexation spilling from his entire countenance.

Y/N didn't hear the garage door open and close, or even the beep of Grayson's truck when he locked it.  She hadn't even heard his feet stomping up and down the stairs, or his lingering chuckles. She was so caught up in how she was feeling.

The artificial vibrations that buzzed upon her core made the world around her so euphoric and heavenly. She'd brush the toy upon her clit, forcing her entire body shake with deep pleasure and a soft moan to emit from her mouth. It felt so nice, and she was so close to the brink of releasing.

She was already feeling better, and naughty. If Grayson were to find her this way, masturbating  freely in the open and satisfying herself, she would never live to see another day. But she didn't care at this point, she just wanted to finally cum.

And she was extremely close.

Her hips began to buckle, while her backside rose from the bed and her free hand twisted at the sheets beneath her. "Mm- just a little more—" Her entire core was pulsating, so fucking close to just letting go.

So close..

"Don't fucking cum yet, slut." Grayson's voice boomed throughout the room, making Y/N's movements freeze in terror and shock. Before she could think of some sort of explanation or reasoning as to what she's doing, her blindfold is ripped from her eyes, while the vibrator that was once nuzzled up on her pussy, was taken away as well. Now, she felt so empty and wanting, edged to an almost release.

"Jesus- You're fucking dripping, for fucksake." His tone was harsh, and Y/N felt like crying. She held onto her tears as she watched him examine the drenched vibrator, still buzzing in his hands. Out of the loss of contact, she began to whine, squeezing her thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

"Grayson, please—" She began to huff, but her shuttering voice was interrupted by the aggravated man pacing in front of her.

"I don't think I fucking asked you to talk, did I?" He glared at her, though just the sight of Y/N's exposed body made him shudder with a tinge of want.

Against his wishes, Y/N continued her whines, her breathing still ragged and finally her own hand traveling down to her soaked heat. She didn't care if she'd be in more trouble, she just needed to unravel the knot inside her, whether she'd pay for that mistake later or if not.

She didn't get far, because Grayson caught her wrist before it made it all the way down to her center, and brought it up to the headboard. He wrapped a leather strip around both of her wrists, mumbling incoherent spews of anger, doing the same with her ankles against the bedposts.

"I-I, I thought you were gonna watch football.." She began, but a low growl sounded from Grayson, and the blindfold was placed back over her eyes, while a different type of cloth was shoved in her mouth. Y/N feels the numbing slap across her thigh before hearing the connection's sound, an exasperated scream muffling out of her filled mouth.

"I'd stop talking if I were you. Unless you want to be choked by Daddy’s fucking cock, darling." His voice rattled her insides, and she dared not to make another sound, already dug far too deep in a hole anyway. "Get ready princess, m'gonna edge the fuck out of you. Maybe then, you'll remember to ask me for permission to use your fucking toys." His voice soon faded from her ears as a higher vibration than before was nudged right up against her swollen clit, making her figure convulse in imploding pleasure.

It took an entire hour for Grayson to edge Y/N twelve fucking times. She was a mess, sweat droplets dotting her hairline while her pussy remained in slippery shambles. He didn't say a word, and Y/N held her tongue from shouting profanities after the several losses of contact. She hadn't came yet, but if she didn't soon— she would find a way to get out of her restraints and finish off what she had started herself.

It had been several minutes since Grayson had pulled her to the brink of an orgasm, and she was starting to think that he'd never come back. She had heard the sound of a zipper earlier, and she couldn't tell if he was doing something to ease his own pain while she laid there, so high strung and breathless. She was about to call out his name, but the warmth of his tongue wrapped around her bundle of nerves and she let out an exasperated sigh, pulling on the cuffs tied around her wrists.

He slipped his tongue in skillful motions, his hands pushing up underneath her thighs as he lapped up her liquids. Y/N was so sensitive to touch, anything that remotely stroked her could heighten her arousal and make her lust for more.

Within seconds, her hips were shaking and her back arched above the mattress, her toes curling under the pressure. And his voice finally sang the heavenly words she had been waiting for the entire time;

"Cum, princess."

Y/N released all over his lips, a high-pitched scream sounding from her mouth as she finally unravels, her legs bucking against their restraints. She spits out the cloth from her mouth and heavily breathes, murmuring praises to the man between her legs.

"I'm sorry, Grayson."

a/n: did this completely suck? i haven’t really written in third person in awhile, so i need honest opinions..

#dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dt #grayson #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfic #daddy!grayson #graysonbailey #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan gifs #graysondolan #dick grayson #grayson blurb #grayson imagine #grayson fluff #grayson x you #grayson x reader #graysondolansmut #ily #ethan dolan #ethan grant dolan #grant #y/n

[sneezefiction]

please don’t go

Ushijima x Reader - Scenario

@moonlightaangel‘s event request: “congrats on reaching 600 followers!! 🥰 can i request ‘please don’t go’ with ushijima, if it hasn’t been requested yet! i need some angsty feelings in my life”

a/n: mmmm angsty Ushijima is my aesthetic :,,)) i also messed around with some flashback formatting, so i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: angst, breakups

wc: 1640

---

“Please don’t go.” It’s a soft, tearful whisper.

“I thought you would understand, y/n. We had established this.” His reply was blunt. Like a dull knife to the chest, digging deeply only to pull right back out, leaving you gushing and writhing at his words.

“Please don’t.” Your cry reached his ears this time.

“I need to focus.” He sighs, twinging with guilt. 

Why didn’t you understand? Had you not known that his career would come first? Above everything else?

Or had he misspoken at some point, giving you the false assurance that this relationship would work forever? That he could always treat you as though it were possible to balance both you and his life’s work.

“Then I won’t distract you! Just don’t leave me. Please.” You begged, knees painfully falling to the cold floor, but your cries fell on deaf ears. 

He remains resistant to change. Without accommodations. Nothing left to give or take.

“Maybe someday, y/n. But this isn’t working out for me anymore. I have to leave for now.” Ushijima’s response is icy. 

He meant for those words to somehow be heartening. Promising, even. That maybe this was just the wrong time and place for a relationship. Where time could ebb and flow and someday he would be able to draw you back into his life.

Yes, there would be a day where you could take priority.

Because he wanted you… but not above his first love. Not above his skills and lifestyle. Not enough.

Volleyball comes first. Plain and simple.

And for that, he wouldn’t compromise.

---

White, crisp linens and fresh lemony scents.

Fluffed pillows fitted with new covers and soft patterns. Feather filled duvets. Curtains drawn to keep out the early morning light. 

Everything has stayed clean, clear, and Pristine. Even the dust particles, dancing around the room, have always seemed to find their own peace, settling mildly in gentle formations.

You sleepily blink open your eyes, rustling your arms over the bedspread to what should be a happier sight. Soft pillows hugging your sides, the gentle birdsong outside your window, a conceivably delicious cup of coffee to be made in the kitchen.

Yes, you should be filled with contentment. You were safe. Physically you were fine, and nothing was on your checklist for today.

In fact, things had appeared fine for months now...

Yet all you notice is who’s missing.

There’s no longer a delicate divet where his dozing head used to lay. The scent and shape of the pillow had only recently dissipated thanks to your citrusy laundry detergent and the slow passing of time.

You don’t awaken to a recently showered, olive-green eyed boyfriend. You could still picture the water droplets, hanging freshly on the tips of his tufts of hair. How the towel draped around his neck, over his shoulders, catching the drips and drops as they fell.

That warm smile he shared with you before placing a chaste kiss upon your forehead, caressing the side of your face. It was pure. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips. Still lingering. Mocking you.

You were liberated from his presence… but you never wanted to be.

Being absorbed in his chaotic life had kept you busy, but you had never minded it. There was never a doubt in your mind that volleyball would be his first priority. That he would follow his passions. His plans. His abilities.

You just wanted to tag along. To sincerely celebrate his victories and mourn his losses. Supporting him and holding onto him when he needed it. Yes, he got home late at night, left early in the morning, and only connected with you on his very few off days… but you cherished every second of it.

Because you loved him. You poured your soul into watching him flourish and thrive. It made you feel whole.

However, eventually, to Ushijima, you started to rival volleyball, becoming a distraction. He had made space for you in his already complicated life. And at first, it was a welcome change. A breath of fresh air to his methodical and planned out character. You were complex, bringing new perspective and sunshine into his typically boring apartment. Beautiful in a natural, yet eye-catching way. Furthermore, you somehow knew how to keep up with his hectic pace along with his gruff personality. 

In every aspect, you were perfect.

Expect one.

You were a diversion from the life he had in mind.

And even though you never pushed him to give you more… he longed to give you more of his attention. More time. To share his success with you. To love you deeper. To give you what you deserved. Because you are a profound being… and it burdened him to have to choose between his two greatest desires.

But, as most things do, these thoughts of love and devotion go unspoken, coming out all wrong. Mangled, unemotional, and misrepresented. Looking back, Ushijima wishes he’d been able to express it to you with empathy. To erase the tears that followed his brutal narrative. But softness isn’t his strong suit… and he needed you to know that, as powerful as he was, he wasn’t strong enough to balance you and volleyball.

---

“Ushijima, if you leave…” You take a deep breath, tears slipping down your face, “... you have to promise me you’ll never come back.” You choke out, your request came out in a sobering snarl.

For a moment, you question your own words- but your dignity was on the line.

“You can’t just break up with me and expect me to be there when you get back. I’m not disposable, you know?”

His body goes rigid. He hadn’t meant it that way.

You meant more to him than words could express… so why couldn’t he get it out clearly enough? How could he make you understand the gravity of his choices?

“...Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like that. I just need to concentrate right now.” The alarm, though subtle, shines in his eyes.

His usually composed, confident figure began to show cracks of uncertainty. He didn’t want you out of his life… Not at all.

He just needs you out of his mind for the time being. Just until he had things settled. You could come back at some point and he could love you so well. Just the way it was supposed to be.

But clearly he’d struck a deeper chord. He’d selfishly assumed you would wait for him. You weren’t some prized pony.

You’re a person. Someone with worth, plans, and dreams, just like him. He’d failed to acknowledge just how demeaning the truth of his actions were. But it’s too late.

You haven’t replied and the pain is etched intricately across your face.

“Okay, fine.” He breathes in deeply, letting out one final exhalation of defeat, “I... I’m sorry, y/n.” His brows furrow in deep, conflicted thought, but his mind is made.

He won’t be back.

---

Ushijima’s life hasn’t changed much.

It’s the same old routine. The standard, grueling workouts. Typical volleyball practice, group meetings, finances, paychecks, physicals, doctor’s appointments, fan meet-n-greets.

The usual.

But there’s a void settling like glacial frost in his soul. A snowy blue that seemed to melt into his bones, slowing him down.

He didn’t go a week… a day...  a minute without thinking of you.

Even now, lying in bed, the room cloaked in a tranquil darkness, you rest on his mind.

It’s not just the emptiness of the bed or the lack of physical touch. It’s the bitter, clawing memories of what he’d done to you and your gentle spirit. His body is frigid and forever frozen in the recurring visions of his foolish explanations, by how heartless and indifferent he’d seemed.

He’ll never get over the venomous tinge to your words.

You’d felt used.

He’d never meant to make you feel that way.

But since he moved out of your apartment, everything has felt glaringly hollow. The icy, barren tundra he crosses every time he realizes he won’t come home to your sunbeam smile and those thoughtfully lit candles, wears on him. How you would lavish him in comforting words, lulling him into a restful sleep.

Ushijima hardly remembers the last time he slept well.

Those dark circles under his eyes follow him everywhere. His whole team can see the exhaustion seeping into his execution of serves and spikes. He’s never struggled with his game performance before, but somehow the crashing reality of you leaving him has broken his patterns and systems.

He’s weary from searching for an answer to his emotions. Your warmth gave him life… and with that gone, what was the point of all of this?

And then it struck him, the realization sinking its needle-sharp claws into his soul, shredding it in seconds.

He’d found something far more valuable than any unique skill. More remarkable than the legacy he’d built as a world-class volleyball player. Someone who wanted to be with him just for the sake of… love.

And for the first time since he was young, he lets a tear slip into his white pillowcase.

Just one.

But it’s for you.

Because in chasing after what made him feel known and alive...

He’d lost the only person who had ever wanted to show him that he was important all along. The only person who was satisfied with his bizarre schedules. Someone who expected nothing more than gentle kisses and weekend dates.

But you were right.

You aren’t dispensable. Nor are you someone to drop for the purpose of picking up later, like loose change on a sidewalk. You deserved to be cherished. Held tightly. Given the love that you offered others.

He wishes he’d listened when you’d pleaded with him to stay. That he’d thought it through and functioned on more than just logic and reasoning. If only he’d known what it really meant to choose you.

Because if you were here now, he’d be the one begging,

“Please don’t go.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list) 

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima #hq #ushijima scenarios #ushijima imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #hq ushijima #hq scenarios #hq imagines #shiratorizawa #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #600 follower event #sneezefiction

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Can you write a imagine for Historia Reiss x fem reader where historia has a room where she chains the reader up and fucks her with a big strap and reader calls her mistress while historia slices her lingerie with a pretty little knife and after she carries reader to her room and takes sweet care of her

*takes long, drawn out swig from wine glass* lol bottom

Three Doors Down

(Historia Reiss x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: None

Category: Smut

Summary: After Historia has a particularly stressful evening, she turns to her s/o for some well needed stress relief.

Words: 2.7K

The guards of the castle knew the interior inside out—as would be expected of their career. Whether they were stationed in that part of the building or not, they knew the ins and outs of each and every room, and when it would and wouldn't be occupied. Except this one room.

It was three doors down from the master bedroom—the queen's bedroom. It had been a simple, seldom used guest room during the prior monarch's rule, but queen Historia had requested it was completely cleared out upon her coronation. They did as they were asked, and just as they had finished their job, they were given stern and clear orders to never enter the room—even for cleaning—without her express permission.

Rumors and speculation spread throughout the staff of what could be kept in this mysterious room, even going so far as to accuse scandal, but, if they wanted to keep their jobs, they must never enter to confirm for themselves. So, they tried their hardest not to question or assume whenever she entered the room with you, her lover, on her tail.

And they never questioned it, either, when you came out limping.

You were the only one, besides Historia herself, that knew of the contents of the room, and boy, did you know it well.

Luckily, though, you were usually given indication in advance whenever you would be spending your time in there. Which happened to be the case tonight.

A small note left on your desk, written in neat, precise penmanship, which was in direct contrary to the contents of the letter, reading;

"Y/n dear, I have an outfit picked out for you on the bed. Put it on and wait for me in the room. I'll be out of my meeting a little after 10."

First you glance at the clock. 9:58.

Next is the bed. You could already assume what would be there, but it still didn't stop a chill to run up your spine at the skimpy lingerie. It was lacy, but plain black. A simple, but elegant looking piece of clothing. Too bad that it would be completely unwearable by the time the night was over.

You quickly changed out your undergarments for the piece laid out on the bed, hastily putting your shirt and pants back on to cover the lace. Even if it was only a ten second walk, and there likely wouldn't be any guards around, you still didn't want to risk being caught.

Luckily making it past the door without drawing any suspicion, you let out a sigh of relief, stripping yourself of anything but the lace garments. It was a little bit past 10, yet Historia was yet to show up.

Taking a seat on the table, you gazed around, cheeks flushing at all the memories of what's gone on in there before. There was a bed in the room, but it was never used—Historia much preferred the table. And, above the table were the handcuffs, drilled into the wall to ensure they never budged, even as you pulled and yanked on them with all your might in desperation.

Laid on the table was a small knife. It was Historia's favorite, clearly, since she never used a different one when she decided to tear your clothing to pieces.

After a short minute of inspecting the knife—as if there were anything new to discover—the door slowly creaked open from behind you. You jumped at the sound, instinctively worrying if it was a staff member, but relaxed when you turned around and locked eyes with Historia, donned in nothing but a plain white button up and a light pink skirt—uncharacteristic dress for a queen, but she never minded those sorts of thoughts.

"A-Ah, hey Hisu, you scared me. How was the meeti-"

"You know better than to address me like that." She spat. Your eyes widened in realization, she was clearly in one of her bad moods. And whenever she was stressed, it was always you, and this room, that she turned to for relief.

"Wh-" You had no time to speak to her, her hands already finding your shoulders and pushing you down onto the cold wood of the table.

"I don't have the patience for this today." She spoke, lining your hips up to the very edge of the table, taking a long time to forcefully press the pads of her thumbs into your hipbones.

You breathed in a suction of air through your clenched teeth, already bracing yourself for the inevitable onslaught that was followed. Yet, no matter how much it hurt, you could never bring yourself to hate it—something Historia often teased you for in the heat of the moment.

She leaned forward, kissing you and slipping her tongue into your mouth as one of her hands pushed your shoulder into the table, the other one holding onto your face with an iron grip, forcing your lips to stay glued against hers.

She pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath as she reached over to pick something off the ground, and fear immediately struck you at the sight.

"Historia, you can't! Tha-" Her hand, previously gripping your face, moved to grip around your throat tightly, leaving just enough margin to allow you to choke out a wheeze.

"I told you," She sneered, tightening her grip. "Don't call me that. What's my name, baby?"

"M... Mistress...!" You managed to squeeze the words out of your throat, and content with your answer, her grip relaxed, and it left your throat, allowing you to gasp in a breath of air.

Her hands, both of which now free, adjusted the straps around her waist, giving it a firm tug to confirm it's security on her hips. Attached to the straps was a pretty pink silicone cock. The only problem, see, was the size.

Typically, Historia had a few favorite strap-ons, ranging in size from 6-8 inches. But, the one she had put on was brand new, and a good 10 inches. Girthier than normal, too.

"His- I mean... mistress, that's not gonna fit!" You cried out. Though undeniably aroused, nervousness and fear worked its way through your body at the intimidating size of the cock.

"It'll fit, trust me." She smiled, picking up the small knife from on the table. "Now hold still, this is really sharp."

You did as you were told, stilling your body against the table as she leaned forward to kiss you again.

While her tongue explored and assaulted your mouth, you accidentally jumped as the tip of the knife glided against your collarbone. Historia anticipated this, luckily, drawing the knife back a little. Despite that, she still hissed into your mouth.

"Hold still." She warned, pressing the knife back to your skin. You did your best to fight off the unease in your stomach, both arousal and fear, as the sharp tip danced lower.

It reached the small line of fabric that connected the two cups of your bra, stopping at it momentarily. Historia bit your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

"We don't need this anyway." She sighed, slicing through the fabric easily, leaving the cold, sharp edge of the knife to push back into your bare chest.

She took one breast in her hand, squeezing it a little just to gauge the way you flinched into her. Once satisfied with your reaction, she leaned down, taking the other one in her mouth.

"M-Mistress, hurry up!" You whined, realizing your mistake only seconds later when her mouth, previously swirling around your nipple, bit down, causing you to yelp.

"I go at my own pace." She hissed, leaning back to gaze at you. Pressing the tip of her finger to your core, she felt around a tiny bit to gauge your arousal. "You really are eager, huh?" Your face darkened at the comment, trying to resist pleading for more.

"You know the deal. Arms up." She instructed, waiting for your arms to shoot up before cuffing them into the shackles above your head, securely locking them in place. Next, she moved lower, forcefully spreading your legs to chain each ankle to the table leg, ensuring that it was impossible for you to close your legs.

"I can hardly wait anymore..." Historia muttered, pressing the very tip of the knife into your clit, causing you to squirm in both pleasure and fear.

She pressed on with a little more force, dragging the knife down to cut a wide slit down the middle of your lace panties, just wide enough to slip the silicone cock through, she noticed.

Discarding the knife, she gripped your hips, lining the head of the cock up with your entrance, lazily starting to finger you, loosening you up for the strap-on.

"Are you sure it's gonna fit...?" You muttered, still not being able to settle the nerves in the pit of your stomach.

All Historia provided was a quick nod, adding an extra finger in you to stretch you out further. You groaned in pleasure, squirming against the clinking chains as you craved more stimulation.

"F-Fine, just... be gentle at first." You shot her a pleading look, and, for once, she looked back with a bit of empathy.

"Just so you can get used to it..." She agreed quietly, using her hand to guide the bulbous tip into your entrance, slowly pushing it in to about halfway before stopping.

You let out a whine at the sudden feeling, the size stretching you out more than you were used to, causing a small bit of pain to mix with the pleasure.

She pulled out gently, before pushing back in at the same distance. Slowly, she started to rock her hips in and out of you, finding her rhythm as you sighed in pleasure.

Historia's hand made its way down to your clit, rubbing lazy circles on it to add to the stimulation.

"A-Ah~ Keep doing that, please!" You pleaded, enjoying the feeling of the slow pace and short distance. You knew it would be short lived.

Historia grit her teeth, gripping your hips harder as she started to move faster almost involuntarily. Your head tilted back, pleasured moans leaving your lips at the feeling, the knot in your stomach already materializing.

A sadistic thought crossed Historia's mind, and she stopped her thrusting, causing you to gaze up at her with a pleading expression.

"Hurry up, why'd you st—!" You let out a sudden yelp as Historia snapped her hips into you with brutal force, bottoming out the full ten inches. Historia didn't pull out, leaving you squirming desperately at the feeling of the cock, pressing mercilessly against your cervix. "Mistress, wait, that hurts!"

"Enough," She barked, pulling her hips back, then snapping them back in, quickly picking up speed until she was fucking you with a brutal pace. "You're my toy, and I get to choose what I do with you."

Your head leaned back, a mixture of moans and yelps falling from your throat as she continued to fuck you mercilessly, the tip prodding at your cervix each time.

Historia looked down to watch the smooth, pink silicone slide in and out of you, splitting you open, and coming out each time covered in wetness. A groan left her lips at the sight.

As she fucked into you, she put her hand on your stomach—heaving from all the pleasure—pressing down on it enough to feel the bulge where it moved in and out of you, smiling with pride every time she felt it up against your walls, rubbing your insides over and over again.

You felt completely stretched thin, being left with no other option to lay back and take it as your orgasm grew closer by the second. despite the pain, it pushed through your sensitive cunt again and again and again until you started to feel numb, only feelings of intense pleasure filling your body.

"Historia, I'm so clo— Ngh~!" You were cut off by a particularly hard thrust, angling upwards to hit just the right spot, a wave of pleasure shooting up your spine.

"I told you not to call me that, how many times do I need to remind you." She spat, unchaining just one of your ankles to throw your leg over her shoulder, pushing forward to get as deep inside as she could.

You threw your head back, staring up at the ceiling as your vision started waver, thighs shaking and tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. Fuck, you were so close.

"You know, you always say it hurts," Historia ponders aloud, moving her thumb down to circle your clit. "But you always seem to love it so much, don't you..."

"M-Mistress, I—!"

"Shh," She cooed, cutting you off with yet another hard thrust of her hips, "It's okay, you can come."

Suddenly, your back arched off the table, the chains straining and pulling as you squirmed against her, both needed to get her to go deeper and to get as far away from her at the same time. Historia was content with helping you through your orgasm, pushing the cock deep into you while keep a bruising pace. Your fists balled up and grasped onto thin air and your mouth hung open, no longer able to let anything coherent pass by as those tears finally fell from your eyes.

Your high died down inevitably, but Historia was still pumping into you, a coy smile on her face as she waited for you to start wincing from overstimulation.

"A-Alright Hisu, that's enough!~" You cried, trying desperately to move your hips away from their fixation on her cock. Eventually though, she stopped and pulled out, but not without one final, deep thrust of her hips.

Once pulled out, she leaned over you to unshackle your ankles, giving you a perfect view of the now soaking wet toy, coated in your arousal and dripping slightly from the tip. More prominently though, you stared at it, being able to truly gauge its size for the first time that night. How the hell did that even fit... You wondered in your head, not sure whether to be impressed or ashamed.

Historia had finished unchaining both your arms and legs, giving you her hand and pulling you to sit up as she went to go collect your clothes.

---

You laid down in the plush bed, much more comfortable as compared to the hard wooden table from not ten minutes ago. Historia had helped you back into your clothes—since you were far too sore already to do any of that—and let you lean on her to hide your limp from the staff as you walked through the hallway.

But, now in your nightclothes, you watched as Historia grabbed the candle, the only source of light in the room, and gently blew it out.

"Are you okay, darling?" She immediately asked, turning around to face you, already cocooned in the warm blankets. She picked up a glass of water from her nightstand, slowly bringing it up to your lips and allowing you to drink.

"A bit sore." You swallowed, "Scratch that, a lot sore."

"I'm sorry..." She cooed, turning to face you and press your face into her chest. "I got carried away. I should've given you more time to get used to it."

"It's okay," You assured, wrapping your arms around her back to pull her closer. Your cheeks flushed in preparation of what you were about to say, swallowing your pride, for once. "It, uh... felt pretty good, actually."

She smiled at your embarrassment, running her fingers through your hair absentmindedly. "That's good to hear. I was just really stressed out 'cause of the meeting, I really needed that..." She admitted, face also flushing at the intimate confession.

"Mmmm, well I hope your day is a little better now." You smiled.

"Oh, it definitely is." You two both laughed softly, before your noises died down into a yawn.

"I'm tired. G'night Hisu, I love you."

She sighed pulling you closer to her and planting a kiss on your forehead. "I love you, too."

This may be the filthiest thing I've ever written hello what nope nobody saw me here I do not claim this filth

Also sorry if it seems a little rushed, there was lowkey a lot I wanted to do but I have word counts for a reason lmaoo

#attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #historia reiss #historia reiss x reader #historia x reader

[saffron-nova21]

X. Meeting the Team Pt. 2

The Next Chapter Masterlist

< Previous Chapter • You Are Here • Next Chapter >

Warnings: Strong language, a depiction of a panic attack and the reader's panic, mentions of Oikawa having a knee injury and panic attacks, reader yells at Kuroo.

A/N: By the way, please don't hate me for giving Kuroo a Camaro, I know literally nothing about cars, I'll call myself out so you don't have to.

Stepping out of Kuroo's sleek black 2013 Camaro, your eyes look at the large gym, the sound of volleyballs hitting hardwood floors bringing back memories for you. Glancing out of the corner of your eyes, towards your taller friend, you remembered the last time you'd walked into an unfamiliar gym. You'd met people who you'd made life-long friends with and he'd helped you get out of an awful situation.

Kuroo, Kenma, Lev, and... Well, really, the majority of the Nekoma High and Fukurōdani Academy volleyball clubs... They'd helped you realize when you needed to put your foot down and start looking out for yourself, rather than worrying about stepping on people's toes. While yes, you had lost two of the most important people in your life, by doing so, you also met quite a few people who truly were looking out for you and your happiness.

Did you hate Atsumu and Suna for the way they treated you? No. They both did a lot of damage, through their words and actions. But, at the end of the day, you'd all been so much younger and you weren't going to waste the rest of your life, hating people who weren't even in the picture, anymore. Or so, you thought.

You didn't ever intend or want to see them again, after the emotional turmoil they'd put you through. Little did Kuroo know just how badly you would respond to seeing them again.

"Are you going to stand there and keep reminiscing over when you met me, or are you going to walk inside and make some new friends?" The teasing smirk on Kuroo's lips only reminded you of the fact that even though he was pretty much a mother to you and Kenma, he was a teasing asshole. He knew how to press all of the right buttons and it would never fail to piss you off.

Walking forward, Kuroo walks forward and grasps the handle of the door, opening it for you. You don't hesitate to begin walking into the gym, flipping Kuroo off on your way. "You talk to me like a preschooler, y'know. And you wonder why Kenma calls you mom behind your back."

Stepping into the gym, you were in awe of your surroundings. Sure, this was an Olympic-level gym, but it looked far too pretty and clean to be a place for as grueling a training regimen as you could assume these athletes were put through.

What you were most pleased to find was that it didn't reek of sweat and floor mats. Instead, it had an almost fresh smell to it. It was partitioned up into three different rooms, as far as you could tell. The largest room was the one you were standing in currently, a weight room; different machinery is scattered neatly around the room and you notice that several ceiling-to-floor mirrors are lining the walls for the boys to observe their form while they work. Across from the door you'd just entered through was a wall of glass, which you could only hope was reinforced, and on the other side was a true volleyball gym, where you could see a few people working on their spikes, even if you couldn't quite make out who they were yet. The last room was closed off and much smaller than the other two, so you assumed it to be where the showers and changing room were located.

"Your highness!" You hear a familiar voice, turning to see Iwaizumi approaching you with a snarky grin, a small white towel hanging from around his neck. He wore a sleeveless grey shirt, only bringing more attention to his defined biceps. Sweats drip down his temple and you find yourself a bit embarrassed when you notice his lip still shows signs of the damage you'd done, the day prior. "So kind of you to finally join us."

Despite the lack of a real smile on his face, one of your own tugged at your lips, knowing that he was only teasing you. "You know, Iwa, you could always just admit that you missed me." Sending a wink his way, you notice that a few of the men are stopping what they're doing to look towards you, their attention captured by how loud Iwaizumi had previously been.

"Baby owl!" You can only brace yourself as you hear the former captain shout to you, knowing he was one for hugs. You didn't quite expect to be scooped up off of your feet. Laughter escapes you as Bokuto spins you around, practically bouncing up and down in joy that you were here. "You missed my spikes, earlier! They were so good, they were so good! They even would have made Akaashi proud!"

As Bokuto places you back down on the ground, some of the other boys are starting to approach, a few looking concerned by the way you gripped Bokuto's shoulder to steady yourself. And though you weren't paying attention to who it was, the three who'd been in the area of the gym and net had entered the weight area and gone for their towels and water bottles.

After you manage to shake yourself out of your dizzied state, you look at Bokuto with a smile. "Yeah, Bo? Well, you'll have to show me some more, later, yeah?"

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you spot Iwaizumi staring at you, brows pinching together in slight concern for your wellbeing. He places a bottle of water in your hands, before looking a the excited, silver-haired volleyball player, "Let's be careful, Bokuto. It's only their first day."

"They're looking a little dizzy, Bokuto. You might want to refrain from doing that in the future." The deep voice catches you off-guard, eyes flicking towards the very, very tall, scary man, now standing beside Bokuto.

He wasn't just tall, but he had quite a lot of muscle to his frame, giving him the build of a fucking giant. With wide eyes, you look him over. Despite his size, upon closer examination, he seemed a lot gentler than you might've previously mistaken him for. Kind eyes like that didn't belong to someone who would snap you in two... Right? Your eyes move away from his face, trailing down his body. From strong-looking biceps to defined thighs, the man seemed like a machine, more than anything. He couldn't actually be real, right?

"The fuck are you guys feeding him? Holy shit, hi there, B-F-G." You nod towards him, "Is your hair green or brown, because I'm looking at it and I'm gonna be honest, it's confusing me about as much as that Karasuno kid's did. Holy shit, I think I'm haunted by those memories." A mock shudder runs down your spine.

While Bokuto and Kuroo are used to your trailing off-topic, Ushijima looks confused, the poor thing. "What is a... B-F-G?"

"Big friendly giant. It's what they used to call this tall-ass first year who went to volleyball club with us, as well. You should feel special, Ushiwaka."

"Oh my fuck, Yaku, is that you? You got taller! That's criminal. You were my short king!" A pout graces your lips, while you step forward to give your old friend a large hug.

While Yaku hasn't found himself looking an insane amount taller, he did gain a bit of height since his time in high school. He stood in front of you, a hand resting on the back of his neck and his shoulders drawn back. He'd always had this feel-good, confident aura about him and it was something you'd always deeply respected about him. It was good to see that hadn't gone away.

After a brief hug, Yaku opens his mouth to speak, only for Kuroo to beat him to it. "I thought that was Kenma?"

Sighing, you roll your eyes. "I had to put Kenma in a different bracket, or else he would very easily surpass all of you in everything. I mean come on now, this is Kenma we're talking about," you muse with a self-satisfied smirk, making Kuroo raise an eyebrow.

Though, unbeknownst to you were the thoughts going through Kuroo's head. If only you knew why Kenma did all of the things that he did for you.

"I'm so excited to be working with you guys," a grin makes its way onto your lips as you clasp your hands together in front of you in excitement.

The smile that spread over your lips was contagious, even making Ushijima crack a small smile of his own. Out of anyone Kuroo had known, even with your aggression and the talking you'd do when you got excited, you were one of those people who people couldn't help but find themselves drawn to. And none of the men in the gym were able to quite explain why they found you as endearing as they did. Maybe it was the fact that you most certainly had no filter, whatsoever.

Bokuto places his hands on your shoulders, looking at the others on his team, "They're such a good player, guys! They could have gone pro if they wanted to! They have the best jump-float I've ever seen!" His loud bragging unknowingly catches the attention of the three final members of this group, who'd been caught up in conversation and getting a drink of water.

Yaku juts his chin out a bit and if you hadn't known him as well, you'd have thought the look he gave you was downright scrutinizing. But, being the person you were, and him being the person he was, you knew that he only took Bokuto's words as a challenge. "Oh yeah? Then that should be good practice for our receivers and I."

"If you needed service aces to practice on, you could have just asked, Mori! I wouldn't have minded helping you out, outside of my work hours." You smile as you look towards the libero, "I've been needing to get out of the apartment, for a while. Even Kenma can only handle so much of my dumbass."

Ushijima's curiosity gets the best of him and he cocks his head to the side, wondering what profession you'd chosen, rather than a career in volleyball. And so, yet again, Yaku is beaten to the chase, Ushijima speaking before the smaller man can get his mouth open. "What do you work as?"

"Youtuber some days, but twitch streamer, more often than not." Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to smile, "My roommate got me into it, actually, and from there, it became a profession for the both of us. Though he's got a dozen other jobs as well, it's pretty amazing."

A hand comes to ruffle your hair and after quickly identifying it as Kuroo's you lean into the display of affection. "We're talking about you, not Kenma."

"Speaking of," Bokuto speaks, even though it has nothing to do with the topic at hand, and his hands come up to guide your shoulders in the direction of the gym, "You need to set for me!"

Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows, looking impressed, "You can set, as well?"

Nodding excitedly, you dive into an explanation, stopping before Bokuto can steal you away, "Yeah, I play a lot of different positions, actually. My ex-boyfriend was a middle blocker, my childhood friends were a setter and a spiker, and my older brother was an outside hitter - plus, he was amazing at defense, so he helped me a lot with perfecting my service aces when I played in high school. So you can say I was always a well-rounded player."

"Not to mention that you and that ex-boyfriend of yours were almost unbeatable, together. Almost." A warily familiar voice came from behind you, making you look back and grin from ear to ear.

The germaphobe had hardly changed, since high school. He was as tall as ever with a good build to him - only befitting for a volleyball player. As well kept as ever, he stood in front of you, reminding you of the number of times you'd ended up facing him across a net, years before. Though, unlike back then, now you were able to look towards one another for a friendship rather than a healthy rivalry.

"Why if it isn't Sakusa Kiyoomi. It's been forever!" With a questioning glance thrown your way by none other than Bokuto, you explain. "When I was at Inarizaki, we played against Itachiyama all of the time. Kiyoomi and I traded numbers after we bonded over our hatred of large crowds."

Sakusa lets a small uncharacteristic smile slip onto his lips as he glances towards Bokuto, "We haven't really kept in contact, but they'll be a welcome challenge, on the court, again."

"Is that a certain germaphobe of ours... Smiling? Omi! I didn't know you could do that! I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks!"

That voice. Why was he here? Your body goes stiff underneath Bokuto's touch, making the large male draw back to check on you, eyebrows pulled together in concern, until he spots what, or rather who you're staring at.

Because there the two are, standing in all of their glory. Suna Rintarō and Miya Atsumu. They didn't look all that different from the last time you'd seen them. Even though, it'd been what? Nine years?

By the way you go rigid, Suna's eyes drop to the floor, almost guiltily. It had been nine years and you still hated them. Though, he supposed they both deserved it. When you'd told them that you were leaving Inarizaki, they made your life even worse than what it had been. They gave you absolutely every reason to leave, rather than try to convince you to stay.

Before anyone can say anything, you catapult yourself into the air in an attempt to flee the building, much resembling a cat. You just, bolted in the first route you saw working and that was apparently through the air. Kuroo had to jerk you into his chest before you could face-plant to get you to calm down for a second. Sakusa narrowed his eyes as he looked between Suna and Atsumu - had they really been so awful to you?

"I quit. I'm not gonna do it." Your words sounded childish, you knew that but you didn't care, shaking your head as you pull yourself away from Kuroo, having half a mind to leave and not talk to any of the men here ever again. Well, more two of them, than anything else. Though, as you pull away, it dawns on you: was this why he had been so dead-set on you coming to 'help the team out?' With this question in mind, you turn around to face Kuroo. "Did you know they were going to be here?" When he doesn't respond, you feel your breath catch in your throat. The air you were breathing felt heavy inside your chest. He couldn't do that to you - he wouldn't. You flex your hands a bit - everything wasn't actually crumbling. Just remember what Kenma said... Breath...

You can't find the words or guts to continue until he reaches for you, anger quickly rising. What made him think he had any right to comfort you when he'd put you in this situation? "Do you not remember any of what happened in high school? Do you not remember how he," pointing a dramatic finger at Suna, "manipulated me? How bad he hurt me, more than once?"

"Do you not remember what he let happen?" After pointing towards the faux-blonde briefly, you drop your hand back to your side, "Oh no, I forget, you weren't there to see the damage they did, right? Because you went off to University and forgot all about Kenma and me, until we got out of high school, as well, right? Right?" You were hardly able to speak, trying to catch your breath in between words. Your voice was growing faint and strained, due to your lack of oxygen in your lungs.

You knew that everyone's stare was on you, only worsening your panicking. Your hands come to your shirt, wringing the ends of it as you try to ground yourself. But you couldn't stop. You just kept talking, needing Kuroo to understand why you were angry, why you were upset. He needed to understand what you were feeling and what he had done.

"You left me, with strangers, in a big city, after promising me it would all be okay. I wasn't welcomed back with my grandmother and brother, after the falling out. But did you even bother to check up, once, after you left? Did you even care, after promising me it was going to be okay? Come on, give me an answer, huh?" You weren't quite sure what brought up all of these old feelings. Maybe it was having to see the two that caused you all of that distress. "Fuck you, Tetsurō."

Kuroo couldn't deny the fact that he was surprised by the way you lashed out at him. He was wondering where all of this anger had been, years ago. Why hadn't you or Kenma ever said anything to him about this? He was fumbling, no words would escape him, no matter his efforts to get something out.

An uneasy silence hangs in the air for a few long moments, everyone looking between you and the former Nekoma captain. Truthfully, you'd never really dealt with everything that had happened, emotionally. You just kind of shoved it down and distracted yourself with being at a new school and video games.

"Bokuto, take Miya, Ushijima, and Suna and go and practice on the court, for a while." A firm voice saves Kuroo from having to respond, making everyone look towards the athletic trainer. "Yaku, I think you should escort Kuroo out. I'll take Y/N home, today." Iwaizumi walks over to you, looking at Sakusa, "Go get me a cool, damp towel, okay?"

You aren't quite sure if Kuroo leaves willingly, or if Yaku has to force him out, but you don't really care, at the moment. Iwaizumi places an arm around your shoulders and brings you over to a bench to sit on, uncapping a water bottle for you. He crouches down in front of you and hands it to you. "Hey, look at me. It's going to be okay, can you focus on breathing for me, right now?"

You weren't crying, were you? Why was it so hot in here? Why couldn't you just calm down? Everyone was looking at you, weren't they? Had you acted irrationally? They were going to hate you for being so dramatic, weren't they? So much for a good first impression with the boys...

"Did you hear me?" Iwaizumi's voice cuts through your thoughts, making your eyes shift to his. Without a word, you move your eyes back down to the water bottle in his hands, "Breath, Y/N."

Easier said than done. "Al -," you swallow shakily and nod, "Alright."

You move your eyes away from him - bad idea Y/N. When you spot the men glancing over at you while they distractedly get to work, you don't quite register that they wanted to check on you, because they were worried about you, mistaking it, instead, for judgment. You opt for closing your eyes, tapping your fingers together rhythmically to help you calm yourself down.

Looking you over, Iwaizumi is reminded of all the late practices that he would find Oikawa collapsing from exhaustion or due to his knee injuries. Though, Oikawa only got this bad when he held the weight of not making it to nationals on his shoulders. Was this a panic attack that you were having, like Oikawa use to have? Or was it something else? He noticed you reach out to him, after a moment of his thinking, and he offers you a hand, silently nodding when you flash him a grateful, weak, but grateful, smile.

Slowly, your breathing mellowed out and the tears pricking your eyes slipped down your cheeks, your head hanging as you attempt to withdraw your hand from Iwaizumi. Though, your eyes move back up when he gently grips your hand, holding it in his, still. It isn't long after that when you feel nimble fingers grip your chin, tilting it up so that Sakusa can gently pat your cheeks and face with the cool cloth. You knew he didn't like touching people much and you were tempted to tell them that they didn't have to do this for you. But their touch was so gentle and their presence so calming that you couldn't bring yourself to open your mouth.

Instead of saying anything, you relax against Iwaizumi and Sakusa's touch. Normally it was Kenma who'd be doing this for you, just as you'd do it for him, but Kenma wasn't here, right now. And you were left to depend on yourself and these very kind, very gentle men.

It doesn't take Yaku long to make his way over, sitting on the bench behind you and gently rubbing circles against your back. "You okay there?" He asks you after a few moments of silence.

Letting out a breath, you open your eyes and nod. You pull your hand away from Iwaizumi and pull your head from Sakusa, turning from them, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Though, you aren't expecting Sakusa to grasp your chin once again and tilt your head in their direction again, "You aren't and we all know it, so cut the act."

Yaku sends a glare towards the taller man, "Sakusa!"

"What?" He snaps back. "I'm right, aren't I? They're not okay and they have every right to express it."

Iwaizumi sighs and looks at you, ignoring the other two, "Drink some water, okay? Look, after today, you don't have to return, I think we'll all understand if you don't want to... But, and you can ignore what I'm about to say if you want, I think that you need closure. Even if that comes from just having to tolerate occupying the same building as them."

Glancing over his shoulders, you find Suna and Atsumu both glancing in your direction. They looked so guilty... Why did you care? You frown and give him a shrug, "Whatever..."

Looking at you, Yaku nods slowly, "We'll try and keep you away from them, alright?"

After a nod of confirmation from Sakusa, you sigh and take a sip of the water bottle Iwaizumi had offered you. "Okay. Fine, yeah, I'll... I'll keep helping out." You confirm. "But, I'm going to bring Kenma for the next few days, just to make sure... This doesn't happen again." Gesturing to where the three sat, doting over you, you lower your eyes again.

"Whatever is going to make you feel most comfortable," Iwaizumi tells you, bringing a hand to affectionately ruffling your hair, watching the way you immediately lean into the affection.

"Let's get to work, what do you say, Y/N?" Sakusa hums, tone surprisingly gentle with you.

You finally stand up, capping your water bottle. "Yeah... Yeah. What can I do for you boys?"

Kenma and you both have a history of having panic attacks and you both are very good at calming one another down, due to your years of experience.

The boys might have just met you, but they all quickly developed this sense of 'I need to protect them' after what happened in front of them.

Atsumu let someone blackmail you, while you were both in high school and Suna continuously used you for his own amusement after he lost his memories and before he got them back. And they both said hurtful things when you announced you'd be leaving.

I am so sorry for how late this was, honestly. I just couldn't get it written how I wanted it. And even still, I don't really like the end result. But no matter, here it is, now, I hope you guys enjoy it. I hope you guys are having a great day, as well! Remember, sweetheart, I'm proud of you. You deserve to eat, get a good amount of sleep, and drink some water, I am so proud of you. Have a great day, alright! I'll have another chapter out tomorrow 🤍 I love you guys.

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[enigma-im]

Twelfth day of Christmas...

Trope: Mutual pining Relationship: Robot x Human Word count: 6,589

The bell chimes from the door. Without missing a beat I continue welding the derby car in front of me. It doesn't take a genius to realize who is here at such a ridiculous hour. Tenna just has to wait till I'm finished fixing up Bruce's dumpster car. Sparks fly off the dented pieces of metal, splashing around in wonderous fireworks. If the sight wasn't a norm I'd almost consider its beauty. As I lower the flame to judge my work I see Tenna sitting on the couch across from me. I try not to look at him, knowing the second he has my attention I'm done for. I can kiss getting this done before tomorrow morning goodbye.

I try my damndest to ignore him, just finishing off the line before I can bother thinking about him. It's a hard task as I already feel anxious with him watching me. His stare picks at me till I'm honestly fighting the urge to look up. It's like he has some gravity to him that I'm drawn to.

"Damn it," I sigh. I turn off the torch and slam it on the hood of the Junker. I snap my helmet covered eye to him, seeing that infuriating smirk on his skull-like face. He has to know what that does to me. Tenna is an annoying little tick that has no business getting under my skin the way he does. His constant presence and never-ending teasing will be my undoing one day.

But damn if I don't love him for it.

Slamming my helmet up I glare at him," Have any idea what time it is?"

"10:34pm exactly," he spreads his arms wide on the couch headrest," is that a problem?"

Scoffing at his know-it-all look I toss the helmet on top of the car with the welding torch. I walk over to my workbench, picking up a used rag to wipe my face. Glancing over at Tenna I catch him staring, his legs spreading wide in an 'I'm powerful' pose. I roll my eyes as my heart flutters. How dare he.

"What do you need this time, Tenna," I ask, cutting to the chase.

"Haven't seen you in nearly a week and all you've got to say is 'you know what time it is' and 'what do you need this time'," he mocks my voice," can't I just come to see my favorite mechanic?"

I look deadpan to him," I've known you for nearly two years, not once have you just come to visit me. So I'll ask one more time, what do you need?"

He drops the act quickly, his shoulders sagging as he leans forward," Ricky Bower accidentally knocked me on my ass last week, and ever since I've been losing feeling to my hands." he raises his palms upwards, clenching his hand into fists. "It's strange and I'd greatly appreciate your help," he attempts to be kind as he asks. Knowing I can't ever say no to this idiot I motion him over to the bench.

Tenna hops up with a pep in his step. I watch him snatch the roller chair from beside the car, bringing it over before plopping down. Holding my hands out he sets his gently over them. I take the moment to feel his lightly warmed metal and leathery palms. His body has fascinated me for as long as I've known him. Having great knowledge in most things that deal with metal and wires I have never really understood how someone can make life like him. He is amazing.

Shaking out of my exploration I trace my fingers over his palm, looking up to him. "Feel that," I ask.

"Nope," he pops the P. I pinch at his fingers, digging my nail into the springy synthetic.

"That?"

"Why all the testing? I told you I can't feel a thing," he snaps. I grind my teeth at his tone, tempted to drop the task. I don't need him charging in here and demanding a fix. Scoffing I give into my petty ire and push his hands away.

"Alright, Mr. Know-it-all, fix your damn self," I hop out of my chair, ready to abscond to my office to pout like a lovesick teen. Before I can make it a step he snatches my wrist, tugging me back.

"Fine, fine," he sighs," I'm sorry. Will you please ignore my pitiful outbursts, I'm just a tad frustrated not being able to feel anything." his gaze drops to where he Is holding me, rubbing his thumb across my skin. He huffs.

I snatch my hand out of his," Fine, but one more and I'm kicking ya out."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," he smirks.

I grab his hand again, trailing my hands to his forearm where I open a panel. The underside of his arm pops off easily. Having replaced this very piece long before it no longer stays connected. I set it off to the side. I expertly look over his wires and parts. It all looks to be working fine, I dig my fingers in to investigate deeper.

"So what did Ricky do again," I ask, filling the silence as I work. I feel him shrug as his arm jostles in my hands.

"That dumb son of a bitch was wobbling on his way out the bar. Being the kind soul I am-" I roll my eyes,"-I walked him home. As he nearly caves his head in on the street I grab him, trading places with him as the dumb son of a bitch to cave his head in on the street." I snort at the image. The all graceful Tenna falling headfirst into the pavement like a drunkard. The scene replays in my mind as I snap my eyes up to him.

"So it's your head, not your arm," I bark as I grab the panel and click it back to place. Standing, I snatch his head and tug it towards me. He hovers close to my bosom but I'm far too distracted with tearing off the cranium plating to care.

"Very grabby today," he chuckles. I toss the panel to the bench and dig through the countless wires to reach where the small dent on the back of his head is. The protective layer that sits on the back of his head is pressing too hard on his processor. The wires are detached and loose. I scoff, pleased but annoyed at finding the issue. What an idiot for going a week without coming in.

I try to take a step away from him to grab my wire welding set but I'm held in place. Confused, I look to the hands holding my hips. Tenna looks up, quickly letting go and sliding back with the chair.

"Sorry," he coughs," you kept bumping me and I-uhh- yep." I stare for a moment, squinting at his strange behavior before I run off to my office.

I fix up his head, pleased as can be as I shut the panel back. Plopping down onto my chair I hold my palms out again. I gesture him forward. He drops his hand unceremoniously onto mine.

"Have you always been this warm," he asks, pressing his palm against mine.

"Does it feel different," I ask worried I screwed something up. I'm no genius in the ways of advanced robotics. He doesn't answer, trailing his hands over my wrist. Growing curious he abandons my hands and cups my cheeks. His fingers pet over my nose and under my eye. Smoothing down my eyebrows as I tense.

"What are you doing," I slowly recoil from his touch though it feels so welcoming. His thumbs grace the corners of my eyes as he smiles sweetly to himself.

"I can feel the crow's feet, ya fixed me again, doc," he jokes. I slap his hands away, insulted at the insinuation that I have crow's feet. He laughs, letting me walk away in a huff.

Tenna

I left her place later than I intended, leaving her asleep on the couch. Heading out of her scrap yard I make my way down the road towards my home. Passing many closing bars and dark alleys. I manage to get out of the dumpster fire that is downtown to get to my humble abode out of the city. It's not a far walk, a decent enough journey to a sweet little place in a sweet little neighborhood.

I trot up the steps, the door unlocking at my proximity. Stepping into the living room I find Ricky asleep on the couch similar to Valerie. Quietly I make my way to my room, flipping the light on to look at the large messy room. I step over the clutter of junk, passing by my vanity. Stopping for a moment I admire the dent on the back of my head, wincing at it.

"Didn't have to hit so hard," I grunt.

Quickly completing my nighttime rituals I plug myself in and power down for the night.

The next morning I sit in the kitchen, reading on my tablet as Ricky steps in. He's a half-dressed, sloppy man, sorting through the fridge.

"How did last night go," he asks. I sigh, dropping the tablet to the table.

"Pretty good actually. She fixed me up quickly, got to even hold her for that bit, and we talked afterward. You know Gilbert stiffed her the forty he owed her for fixing up his Camry," I answer. He grunts in answer, chugging milk like the slob he is. I grimace at the white trickle going down his neck. With a satisfied gasp, he wipes his face.

"Did you actually get anywhere this time or did you play annoying best friend again," he asks.

"No," I cross my arms," I didn't plan to do anything anyways."

Ricky snorts," wimp."

"Hey," I bark," I'm not a wimp. I'm just a good guy trying not to ruin a good thing going for me."

"yea," he shrugs," a wimp."

I pout, grumbling under my breath as I try to think of something clever to say. Ricky just snorts again, heading towards the cupboards for a snack.

"Just go for it, you beating around the bush just leaves time for her to find someone better. She puts up with your stupid injuries that you cause just as an excuse to see her. Nut up and make a move," he suggests. I can't help but chuckle at the pun. It trails off as I grovel in self-pity some more.

"It's not that easy, Rick," I sneer," she can barely stand me, and asking for more than what we have would be me just ruining something good. If all I can get is once a week with her then I'll take it. She doesn't need some idiot pulling her back anyway."

Ricky glares at me but shakes it off as the argument goes in circles. I adore Valerie, ever since she first fixed me up. She's so snarky and kind, I couldn't help but adore her. But, I'm nothing special and I know she finds me tolerable at best. I sigh, slacking in the chair.

Valerie

Bruce stops by sometime this week to grab his Junker car for the derby this weekend. With the bit of money he gives me I have enough to splurge on some necessities for the shop. I spend my day off cleaning up and ordering pieces online. Though I'm one for always working I enjoy getting to calm it all down every Tuesday. No customers to argue with, pieces of shit cars to try to fix up. Just alone with some loud music.

I sweep the garage floor, startled at the bot standing by the front door. Jumping nearly out of my skin I pause the music and catch my breath. Tenna laughs at me as I hold my hand to my chest.

"If I wasn't mistaken I think I scared ya," he teases.

"Yea," I shout," not shit." Tenna gives me a moment to ease my racing heart before continuing his teasing.

"You humans are just so jumpy. Scared of your own shadow," he snickers.

I scoff, setting the broom aside," cause you're any better? I remember vividly you whimpering over me replacing the pistons on your back."

"Hey," he barks, pointing to me," being in pain and getting scared are two different things and I wasn't whimpering. If I was, it was because you don't have a gentle bone in your body."

I wave him off," excuses, excuses. What do you want anyway?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets he walks further into the shop," was just passing by and figured you could be of help in fixing the dent on the back of my head. You see, the ladies don't find the battle wound charming."

I snort," battle wound? Falling onto concrete sounds extremely heroic."

"Saving poor old men from cracking their skull on the sidewalk sounds pretty damn heroic," he defends himself. I smile, waving him over to the workbench.

"I'd recommend stopping with the 'heroics' though. You're in here nearly every week with some 'battle scars'," I scold halfheartedly. He sits down at the bench as I circle him to check out the dented metal on his head. Grabbing him and tilting him forward I see what I can do.

"Not my fault I'm such a good person," he grumbles. I snort, shaking my head.

I try just removing the dent the old fashion way, pulling it back into place. With that not working I remove the piece and try to hammer it back. That just makes it look worse. As all else fails I set out to make a new piece. I sort through some scrap I have mashed together in a milk crate. Jabbing myself on different bits of loose metal I find a sheet perfect enough to mold.

All the while I'm working I can feel Tenna's gaze on me. It makes me fumble with my work as I feel pressured by his attention. I want to seem smart and capable around him but he has a tendency to leave me flustered. I bite my cheek and try to think of something else while I cut the sheet of metal.

With the piece made I head back over, ready to try and perfect it. I stand behind him, tilting his head back down.

"Anything new lately," I ask him to fill the silence. He shrugs.

"I've been trying this new drink for bots, it's supposed to keep the inners all clean and oiled," he answers.

"Yea, how's it taste," I ask, knowing how picky he can be.

"Like shit. It's like they make us taste everything but won't put the effort into making things we can eat good," he huffs," it's almost insulting." I hum in answer. I lose track of the conversation for a bit as I walk off to smooth the edges so it can click into place.

"So Christmas is next week," I shout from across the shop.

"Yea, and?"

"What do you me 'yea, and', are you not doing anything," I ask.

He shrugs," what is there to do? Ricky is heading off to his parents then and I'm left alone till he comes back."

I nod in understanding. Ricky is Tenna's only friend. Though I have no room to talk, Tenna is my only friend. I fiddle with the piece in my hand as I ponder asking him to spend his holiday here. Surely that's a stupid question, why would he want to spend his day with me?

"Besides, it's a family holiday. As you know I lack in that department," he tries to joke. I swallow a comforting comment.

Walking around him again I set the piece, admiring the handiwork. I turn to the workbench for some spray paint to keep the color scheme. Though I've replaced most of his parts with scarp I do try to keep it presentable. I shake the can as I fight back the urge to invite him. It's a waste invitation, he wouldn't want to. I sigh.

"Tenna," I start, he hums," do you want to spend Christmas here with me?"

He straightens at the question, asking defensively," Why?"

"What do you mean why," I bite back.

"What do you mean 'what do you mean'? Why are you inviting me to your human celebration," he barks. I scoff, spraying the back of his head quickly.

"You're going to be alone and I thought it would be a nice thing for me to do," I answer.

"Oh, how giving of you. Don't put yourself out just for me," he folds his arms. I toss the can onto the desk, circling to his front.

"What is your problem, I'm just being nice," I sneer.

He glares up at me," I don't want the charity. I imagine you have better people to spend this time with."

"Oh yea, cause I'm drowning in friends right now. Got a family halfway across the country and no money to get to them. I'm spending this time of year alone and you of all people should know that," I shake my head, holding up my hand before he can speak," know what, never mind. Didn't know having to spend Christmas with me would be such a hassle."

His shoulders drop as he begins to stand," I didn't mean it like that, Val-"

I stop him," No, it's my fault. Should have known better. It's my bad." I turn on my heels and make my way to my office, Tenna trailing after me.

"Valerie, I didn't mean it that way. I was-," I interrupt him again.

"Fucking aye, Tenna, I get it," I snap," I fixed your stupid head, you can leave now."

Tenna tries to get in another word before I slam the door in his face. I stomp to the desk, collapsing in my chair as Tenna tries to knock on the door. His words are muffled but constant. I ignore him either way, stewing in my hurt feelings like a petulant child. Damn robots.

Tenna

I reluctantly leave her place, feeling like utter shit as I do. I hardly meant for it to come out like that but I couldn't help but get defensive. She wanted to spend her special holiday with me? Surely that had to be pity. I never want her pity, that alone stings more than anything.

I walk home, feeling the cold air more than before. Heading into my home I go straight for my room to stew in my ignorance for a little longer. Falling onto my bed I groan as I recall the conversation. How can I be such a fool? Rolling onto my side I rub at the new plate sitting on the back of my head. She always fixes me right up. Not once has she said no. I smile to myself before the image of the door slamming in my face came back. I groan again.

A while later I come out of my room to speak with Ricky, finishing with my moping for the time being. I find the slobby man lounged on the couch watching tv. Falling into the chair across from him I let out an exaggerated sigh. Ricky pretends to not notice so I do it again. With a roll of his eyes, he mutes the tv, turning to me with a fake smile.

"Hello, how may I help you," he says with great theatrics. I rest my cheek on my palm.

"Valerie's mad at me," I answer. Ricky tosses the remote down the couch, clenching his jaw.

"Yea? What did you do," he asks. I don't bother pretending I did no wrong.

"She asked to if I wanted to spend Christmas with her and I got all in my emotions about it," I grumble. Ricky scoffs, looking at me bemused.

"Your girl asks you to spend a holiday with her and you got pissy," he sits up, throwing his feet onto the floor," are you dense? Your girl asks you to spend time with her outside this stupid arrangement you two have and you don't immediately say yes and jump for joy?"

Well, when you say it like that I feel like more of an asshole. I lean forward and groan into my hands. I'm truly a fool.

"I couldn't help it. It felt like she was doing it because she felt bad and I couldn't handle her feeling like she had to do that," I clarify. Ricky barks out a humorless laugh, reaching over for a pillow and tossing it at me.

"You fucking idiot," he barks," what does it matter if she felt bad for you? If a girl wants you to spend time with her then the answer should always be yes!"

"I'm aware of that now," I shove the pillow aside," you know I suffer from lack of filter from brain to mouth."

He snickers," as do all men."

"so what should I do?"

Ricky stands from the couch," go back and apologies then kiss her like the lovesick fool you are."

"Be serious, please," I fall back against the chair. Ricky walks past, heading to the kitchen.

"I am. You keep beating around the bush and you need to be direct. Tell her how you feel- or better yet, show her how you feel- and then you two can get down to fucking like rabbits in her garage," he answers, shouting as he rounds into the kitchen. I stumble on my retort as I think about having my way with her in her shop. Her sweaty body against mine as I listen to her sweet cries of pleasure. I nearly short circuit at the thought, drooling if I could.

Ricky comes back in, hitting me on the head," Stop that, I don't wanna see if a robot can get a boner."

I shoo his hand away," shut up. That's a stupid plan."

He falls to the couch with his bowl of mixed snacks," compare to your year-long plan of injuring yourself I'd say it's fucking genius." I chuff, looking towards to tv in thought. They aren't stupid plans, they've worked every time. Even when she's been mad at me I've managed to get back in there to apologize with a well-placed missing wire. I snap my head to Ricky.

"There's an idea," I smirk," she has never said no so far." Ricky looks from the tv back to me, gawking before sneering.

"No," he points at me," don't chase that thought. For the love of God, just talk to her. You are making this harder than it has to be."

I rest my elbow on my knees," no, no. it will work. Just need your help trying to break something easily fixable and-"

"NO," he jumps up, slamming his bowl on the table," I'm not going to keep helping you hurt yourself just so you can go see her. I'm fucking done with this childish game. You need to get your shit together and talk to her like a damn adult."

I stare at him for a moment, caving quickly," but Ricky, just be a bro one more time. I promise I'll try to make some headway but for right now I just need to get her to talk with me and sh-"

"Tenna," he shouts," I can't keep doing this! I'm fucking done." he storms out the room. I shout after him, trying to plead before he slams his door. Huffing I fall back into the chair, looking to the space in thought. Well, that didn't work.

Valerie

I stew for the week, growing angrier as Christmas nears. The one time I try to reach out to him as more than his mechanic he shuts me down. How could I even hope for a second that he would see me more than that? Under the feeling of rage I have the weak sensation of disappointment and pain.

Wanting an actual friendship wasn't asking for much, right? It's not like I confessed my feeling, laying myself bare for him to judge and reject. It was a simple invitation for us both not to spend this time of year alone. I scoff, slamming my tools round harder than needed.

"Don't fucking need him anyway," I grumble," far too busy to spend Christmas with him." it's a lie but it does make me feel better. I can use the free time sorting through that horrendous filing cabinet. Yea, that's a good way to spend my day off.

I power through the week working on odd jobs, secretly holding out for Tenna to walk through the door. He never does though, staying away the whole week while I continue to stew. I don't miss him, no, far from it. It's just quiet around here, that's all. I sigh at the lie.

Christmas eve leaves me cold and alone. I try to work, keeping with the minor distractions till I'm just left numb. Some self-pampering is needed. I make myself a hot chocolate, sitting on my couch, and playing Christmas music throughout the shop. I mumble along to the overly repeated songs as I sip my drink, chewing on some marshmallows.

"Merry Christmas to me," I groan.

Nearly asleep I jolt awake at a pounding at my door. The cold leftover bit of cocoa spills on my blanket as my muddled brain tries to sort out what's happening. The pounding sounds again from the front entrance, followed by some shouting. Scared, I grab a tall wrench off the workbench as I head to the door. The second the entrance is inches open does the person on the other side barge in.

A sloppy-looking man charges in, carrying a tarp behind him. I scowl at the guy, barely noticing the heap of metal strewn across the blue tarp.

"Excuse me, what are you doing," I snap. The man lets go of the tarp with a heavy grunt.

"Help him," he glares down at the heap on the tarp. I finally take a moment to look, gasping at the sight.

"Tenna," I drop to my knees, grabbing at him. He is laid wrecked on the ground, not moving. The lights in his eyes are dim but still there. It's a minimal relief but the black scorch marks up his arms aren't.

"What happened, who are you, why is he-," I try to ask.

"He fucking shocked himself with a socket, and I'm Ricky. Now fix him so I can kick his ass when he's alright," the man growls. I nearly recoil at his volume but I can't look away from Tenna. Focusing, I grab at his arms, tearing off the panel to see the damage done. There are plenty of popped fuses, the wires leaving black marks where they meet. I reach in to find the most damage, throwing my hand back as the metal burns my fingers. I press my hand to his chest, wincing at the heat.

"He's overheating," I say as I jump up. I run over to my office, grabbing plyers and a screwdriver.

"Yea, what does that mean," Ricky asks, panicked. I shoo him aside, falling to my knees besides Tenna. Reaching for his torso again I slide his shirt up to his chest and begin to pry the plate off. Using the screwdriver I manage it easily. Looking at his bare inners I use the plyer to dig in the tiny hole near his artificial heart. I press the button deep down in there, turning him off. The light dims from his eyes as his body shuts down. The barely-there glow of his pupils is a faint relief.

"What are you doing," Ricky shouts," why did you turn him off, is he dead?"

I scoff," he isn't dead, or he better not be. I shut off most of his main functions so he can cool off while I fix the wires that he popped. He is technically still on but it's minor functions, mostly."

"Mostly," Ricky barks," can you fix him?"

"Of course I can fix him," I answer with false confidence. I think I can fix him. I'm sure as hell going to try because if this idiot dies on me I'm going to turn his body into a coffee machine. No, he won't get out of this that easy.

"yea, ok," Ricky answers, shaking a bit. Before I can start on Tenna I turn to Ricky.

"It's going to be ok, I got this. Why don't you grab my tools off the bench while you tell me what happened," I ask calmly. He nods, stumbling over to the bench while I pry off the plating on both arms. Ricky passes me the set, sitting down at Tenna's feet. I wait for him to start.

"I found him in his room after I heard a loud pop. I didn't think it came from him but when I saw him laid out jerking around on the floor I couldn't think. Gods," he rubs his face," I could kill him for putting me through that."

I rip the worn wires out, stripping them and re-welding them to his body," what did he do?"

Ricky scoffs, turning away," fucking shocking himself with the outlet. I swear, he is like a child sometimes." I scrunch my face up confused.

"Why would he do that," I ask.

"Because of you," he answers easily. I snap my attention to him, defensive and confused.

"Because of me?"

Ricky looks at me, fighting with himself before he reluctantly answers," this idiot has been making up every excuse to see you."

"So he shocked himself to see me," I ask, not really getting it.

"Shocked, maimed, dented, sabotaged. You name it, he had done it just so he had a reason to see you," he shrugs. I finish with one arm, leaving the plates off to let it cool. I start on the other side.

"Why would he do that," I wince as I burn my finger again. I feel Ricky's heavy gaze on me. Turning to him he sighs.

"Because he is in love with you and only idiots in love do stupid shit like this," he gestures to Tenna. I bark out a laugh, startling Ricky.

"No, that's not it. Why did he really do this," I shake my head amused. This hunk of junk couldn't be in love with me. That's funny in itself to assume such.

"He's in love with you. Has been since he met you," he answers. I scoff.

"I doubt that very much. He has been nothing but an ass, only coming to visit when he needs something. I consider him a good friend but I know he only sees me as his mechanic," I try to smile through the bitterness. Ricky laughs, throwing his head back as he busts a gut.

"Are you kidding me," he snickers," you two are exactly the same! Two idiots who just don't get the other."

I sneer, finishing up the wires before grabbing my soldering kit. Surely Ricky is mistaken, Tenna isn't in love with me.

"So, Valerie, are you in love with him," he asks with a big grin on his face. I fluster at the question, making him laugh again. "I fucking knew it. To think, I never met you and could tell you were as enamored with him as he is with you. If only he took my advice then you two would be spending your Christmas humping like lovesick teens," he chortles. I fluster more, wanting to roll up into a ball.

I solder the last wire, grumbling under my breath at everything. How can he go and do something like this? And just to get my attention? If what Ricky said is true then Tenna is more of an idiot than I thought. He never gave any hint that he liked me, let alone loved me. I spent the whole year feeling like shit because I adored this idiot, thinking he couldn't even give me a second glance. When he wakes up he is going to have an earful.

As I put away my tools I grab the plyers again. Stretching over his chest I press the thin tip into the hole, pressing the button. I wait for the telltale sign of his rebooting but there is nothing. I press it again, holding it before releasing. Nothing. Before I can push it again there is a loud drawn out beep.

"What's happening," Ricky jumps to attention. I don't answer, having the same question myself. Leaning over his body I stare into his eyes, the dim light extinguishing completely. My heart plummets, a cold chill running up my spine.

I jump up, bolting across the shop for my trolley. Ricky stands, asking too many flustered questions as he watches me wheel the trolley over. I grab the jump-started off the middle shelf, slamming it a tad too hard on the floor. Reaching for the two clamps I attached them to Tenna's chest. I look at the machine, ready to turn the knob. Before I can start, I check Ricky, making sure he isn't in danger of being shocked as well.

I turn the knob, a charge running through Tenna. I hold it for a few seconds. Leaning over Tenna I look for his lights, seeing none I try again. I mumble under my breath pleas and prayers. Checking again for a light I truly panic.

"No, no, no," I readjust the clamps on his body," you do not get to do this to me, you damn idiot!" I twist the knob again, asking any higher power for this hunk of junk to start.

"What's going on, is it working," Ricky asks unhelpfully. I ignore him, sitting in my own fear. I twist the knob, antsy as I wait.

It's a harsh few seconds of nothing. My heart feels like it's squeezing, threatening to pop with such force. A litter of please escape my lips as my eyes sting. He can't do this to me, he fucking can't.

"You son of a bitch," I whimper in anger," I do not deserve to find out you love me too and then have you die on me. You damn piece of shit, reboot!"

I twist the knob again, perhaps turning it a tad too hard. His body gives a sudden jolt, convulsing for a moment before he sits upright.

"Motherfucker," he shouts, clenching at his open chest. He tears off the clamps, curling into himself as he shudders. I can't describe the utter joy I feel at hearing him speak. Without much thought I grab him, pulling him into a hug. He tilts into my hold, still shaking and clenching his chest.

I grab his face, turning to me," If you ever scare me like that again I will turn you into a metal scrap cube." before he can answer I smash my lips again his less soft ones. He grunts in surprise, nearly recoiling. I hold him firm, annoyed and overjoyed all at once. Tenna melts into the actions, the hands curled against his chest grabbing at my shirt to tug me closer.

"Aw, that’s sweet," Ricky tease, smacking Tenna on the back of the head," glad you're alright but if you do that shit again I'm turning your scrap cube into a toilet." Tenna parts from me, smiling up at his friend.

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Tenna chuckles.

Ricky nods, rubbing snot on his sleeve," see you at home."

"You're leaving," I ask, watching him head to the door.

"Yea, you two have a lot to talk about. I'll get my words in later when he isn't high off you," he waves dismissively. As Ricky shuts the door behind himself Tenna and I are left in tense silence.

I look to Tenna, happy to see the bright glow in his eyes. He was nearly lost to me, left to be just a piece of fine metal on my floor. I smile at him, he returns the gesture. I then punch him in the chest, wincing at the metal. He winces, curling into himself again.

"Ow, let's not punch the injured man," he snaps. I growl at him.

"Wouldn't be injured if you weren't such an idiot," I snap," Of all the moronic things I know you're capable of, this tops the list. What were you even thinking? You could have been wiped, gone forever at Tenna the robot. Left at factory reset as a blank slate. God, I could kill you right now for being so blasé about hurting yourself!"

"I did what I had to do, ok," he bites back," it's not my fault that it's the only way you would give me the time of day."

I scoff, pushing him away," only time? Excuse me but I don't think you even bother trying a different way. Not once did you stop by for a casual chat or asked me out for some dinner. Hell, I've never even been to your place. I'm not the one in the wrong here just because you're an idiot!"

Tenna groans, starting up a sentence before backing off with a shake of his head. He tries again, falling short once more. In the end, he grabs for me, tugging my reluctant self into a hug. He drops his forehead to my shoulder, holding me sweetly.

"I'm sorry," he says simply," I've been reckless and unrefined ever since I met you. It's not your fault, I'm just a fool who has no idea what he's doing."

I tug him closer, petting at his back," yea, but you are the fool I fell in love with."

He squeezes tighter, rubbing his face against me. Tugging me into his lap we take the silent moment to bask in the glow of just being alive. I'm livid with him, beyond belief am I angry, but I nearly lost him today. That alone is enough for me to just sit in his lap and hold him.

"Do you really love me," he mumbles near my ear. I pet the back of his head, pressing a kiss to him.

"Sadly," I tease. He chuckles, leaning back to look in my eyes. He slants his lips against mine, timid and slow as he does.

"Well, I'm happily in love with you too," he says against my mouth. I tug him in for the next kiss, leisurely licking his lips and cupping the back of his head. We part only for us to rest against the other.

"I'm really sorry though," he nuzzles my head," I feel like a great idiot now."

"Truly the king of idiots, actually," I joke. He smiles, nodding in agreement.

"Can you forgive me," he asks. I nod.

"My biggest flaw is I can never say no to you," I say," it will surely be my undoing."

Tenna smiles big and wide, hands falling down to my hips to tug me close. We kiss like lovesick fools we are, straying off any more words for the enjoyment of just being here. Somehow we make it to the couch where he corners me against himself and the cushion. I fall asleep to him playing with my hair. Before I can succumb to rest I mumble to him.

"Merry Christmas."

He presses a gentle kiss to my head," Merry Christmas, love."

#12 days of christmas #12 tropes for christmas #Enigma-IM #exophilia #robot boyfriend #robot x human #monster boyfriend #mutual pining

[summonerscenarios]

Ello! I can't get this out of my head but I like to imagine the protag loving to draw and doodle, and when they run out paper they draw using marker on their arms or legs and wanted to know how the rest of the summoners would react to seeing the protag show up to class one day with their arms covered up with random doodles they drew on themselves the night before out of boredom dksbsksns

Shiro knows about your doodling habits - during meetings he’s watched you doodle patterns on your fingers and hands as you listen to the latest news and updates, and just as often has watched you after said meetings having to viciously scrub it off over the safehouse sink because of the stains using markers and pens have left behind on the tables. It’s never been too much of an issue though, since you only resort to doodling on yourself when you’ve got no paper on hand, so Shiro’s been mindful of having a notebook or two stowed away at the safehouse for you to doodle on while you’re there. With that being said, that only accounts for the safehouse and not whenever you’re not there, so keeping up your paper supply in your room has always been your responsibility. So when you run out, on top of being bored in the late hours of the night, you end up drawing patterns on your fingers, then your palms, then the back of your hands, then your forearms...With class being on the next morning you’d had to rush out of your room before you’d had the chance to clean up your arms, so when the Summoners see you there’s a mixed bag or responses. Shiro just about topples out of his chair when he turns around as sees you enter the classroom, grinning as you offer the Summoners a wave and move to toss your bag onto your seat. Your arms are covered in drawings, all the way up from your hands to your elbows and disappearing under your shirt - he’s never seen you get so far up your arms with your doodlings before, and many of them are so neatly packed together you could almost say they looked like tattoo stencils. Most of the marks stick to one color, but there’s a couple that differ and those are the ones with more detail - clearly, you’d gotten carried away on them, but not in a bad way. Even though they’re only temporary, Shiro has a feeling that if one of the stricter teachers catches you, you’re going to end up getting an earful about the drawings and tells you that it might be a good idea to roll your sleeves down just in case one of them’s teaching this class. Sure enough, Mr.Triton comes in not a moment later and you drop your arms from your desk, tugging your sleeves back down to your wrists as you cast Shiro a sheepish grin at the close call.

Kengo has absolutely let you draw on him whenever you’ve run out of paper at the guild house - his arms are thick and broad giving you more than enough space to doodle just about anything you want. It’s gotten the two of you scolded more than once because he wouldn’t tell you to stop and you could quite easily doodle up to his elbows if left unsupervised, but of course this is mostly outside of school hours since you’ve got plenty of paper to doodle on when you’re in school or at your dorm. So that’s why Kengo does a double take when you come strolling into class covered right up to your elbows (and probably above if he’d have to guess) in just about every color marker that you possess. Kengo doesn’t even need to ask you why your arms are covered in scribbles, instead when you sit down Kengo shuffles his desk as close to yours as he can, asking if you’d brought any of those pens with you. In response you smirk, fish around in your pockets, and retrieve some metallic markers as you gesture for him to budge closer and uncap the gold stationary. It’s a miracle the two of you don’t get caught, considering you’re exchanging harsh whispers, with you biting back snickers as you chide him to keep still, and him trying to flex his arm because you’ve kept it pinned in one place for so long. You have to admit, the metallic markers look damn good on him, a mix of bronze, gold and silver making for some cool looking patterns against his skin by the time that you’re satisfied enough with your work to stop. You’re just thankful that the two of you don’t get called out on your arms, but you don’t stick around long enough to get stopped anyways, the two of you booking it the second that the bell rings and down the hall as Kengo brags about the new penwork you’ve given him.

Ryota loves to doodle with you! Whenever you’re drawing at guild meetings you’re quick to offer him one of your pens or markers and shuffle next to him so that the two of you can draw things together. He thinks you’re way more talented at it than he is, but he likes seeing how happy you get whenever you’re doodling, and he enjoys hearing you praising the drawings he makes by the time that the two of you have filled in just about every spot of the page. Sometimes he’ll see you drawing on your hands, but you never draw any higher than your wrist and he honestly thinks that your drawings look so pretty on your skin, especially the ones where you use bright colored ink! He just thinks it's sad you have to wash away all that hard work by the time you’re done, so you end up taking a picture of them whenever you make a new pattern on your hands. However, for what it’s worth he’s never seen you doodle on your hands in class, maybe because you could probably end up getting told off if you got caught doing it in lesson. That soon changes when you end up having to rush into class after staying up late doodling, not having the chance to clean up your arms by the time you have to leave to get in on time. You hadn’t even thought about rolling down your sleeves until you enter the room, and you can see Ryota’s expression light up at the sight of your arms when you drop down into the seat next to him, sleeves up to your elbows revealing a fraction of the doodles that now decorate your skin. He leans over to look at them, wondering how long it took you to finish drawing on your arms - everything looks so detailed! You must have been up for ages last night to get them all done! You nudge one of your arms against Ryota’s comparing your doodled arm to Ryota’s significantly less doodled one and hum in thought; then, you reach into your pocket and dig around for one of your pastel markers, pulling it out and showing it to him as you ask if he wants some. By the time the class is over Ryota’s got some pretty yet subtle new doodles thanks to you, fanning out across his palm, back and fingers ending just shy of his wrist; he’s happy as he admires them, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling at how good the patterns look on him as you fish out your phone, reaching out for his marker covered hand with your own and interlocking your hands as you snap a few pics to commemorate your newest doodles.

Toji nearly chokes when he sees your arms, not realizing that they’re drawings until you sit down and rest your arms on your desk, doodle covered fingers tapping on your desk as you wait for the class to start. Similar to Shiro, he’d say that it would probably be a good idea to cover up your drawings lest you want to get scolded by the teacher, only to watch you shrug and grin in response. Toji does allow his eyes to wander over some of your drawings, and for what it’s worth they are rather visually appealing; some of the markings are flowers, detailed lines to make up specific patterns, and others are scribbled words hidden between blocks of art close to the inside of your elbow. It’s clear you let your creativity run away with you when you were drawing, though he’s sure drawing them on paper would avoid the future hassle of trying to scrub them all off when the time came. You catch him staring and tug your sleeves up a little further, saying that if he thinks those are cool he should see the ones on your legs - you had a way bigger canvas to work on the little details on the images you drew. Toji gives you an incredulous look, searching for your bluff, but he realizes it’s not when you reach down you tug up your pant legs. He doesn’t get the chance to see the doodles in question when the teacher walks into the classroom, and at the sight of Mr. Triton you just about yank your sleeves down, flashing a convincing innocent smile as you greet the teacher like nothing’s out of place, catching Toji shaking his head out of the corner of your eye.

Moritaka has seen you draw on both your own skin as well as others whenever you’re bored and have no paper to use; however, he’s never seen you doodle anywhere past the wrist, sticking to just the palm of your hand or your fingers since you don’t always have time to sit down and focus when you’re not at school or at the dorm rooms. Which is precisely why he doesn’t expect you to come into class with pen markings up your arms, past your elbows, and even disappearing into your shit. When you take a seat next to him, Moritaka turns to greet you briefly, only just catching sight of your arms on your desk when he turns back to face the front. He looks again, then again, and by the third time his eyes are comically wide as he tears his gaze away to look at your face, brows raised as he looks into your face for some kind of explanation. Your only explanation is that you were almost late and didn’t have the time to scrub it all off before you had to get into lesson, though you take advantage of the opportunity to show him some of your favorite doodles. Leaning over to his desk you show him some of the things that you were able to draw the night before, still as vibrant as when you’d first drawn them; on one section there’s even a collection of flowers close to the center of your hand, with one of them being a peony that you can’t help but quip that it looks pretty close to Moritaka’s mark. You remark that you guys can match now and Moritaka finds himself chuckling a little at how proudly you show them off; though you unfortunately don’t have the time to show him much more than that, as being close to the front when the teacher walks in you drop your hands into your lap to hide the majority of marks, whispering to the therian that you can show him all the rest once class is over.

#Anonymous #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #headcanons #imagines #the summoners #shiro #housamo shiro #shiro motoori #kengo #housamo kengo #kengo takabushi #ryota #housamo ryota #toji #housamo toji #toji sakamori #moritaka #housamo moritaka #moritaka inuzuka #request #ask

[shibarirobot]

Aizawa fic - CH 5 - Entrapment

 18+ ONLY! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villian!OC/Reader(?)

CH1

CH4

Okay this chapter kinda fucked me up. I got very emo while writing this lmfaoooo, but again sooooooo sorry that I’m so inconsistent, I care about this story and I want it to actually be good before I post ((also I have the shittiest laptop on the face of the planet so I can barely use it)) more like I just dont have the patience to deal with it XD, mais oui! le chapter is done! Please enjoy! x

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The chair I’m strapped to is stiff and uncomfortable at my back. I haven't been able to move for awhile and it’s driving me fucking insane. My back aches, my thighs are sore, I can literally feel my pelvic bone, not to even mention the cracked rib still throbbing and I’ve started to remember the broken nose I gave myself. It’s hard enough to keep my head on straight, I can’t really seem to focus on the questions I’m being asked, let alone my answers. I’ve been here for hours, maybe days. I have no clue. I have absolutely no fucking clue. This dumbass, Detective Aiko just comes and goes, sometimes followed by a short man with a clipboard and glasses. He just asks a few questions and leaves, I’ve lost track of how many times he’s entered and left as quickly as he comes. This time he comes in dragging another metal chair and flips it around on the other side of the table, sitting on it backwards, like he thinks he’s fucking cool or something. He’s large, I’ll give him that. His thighs swallow up the chair easily and I’m surprised he can actually sit on the thing.

I look at him with my tired eyes. We’ve been at this too long, I’m so fucking tired and I can hardly hold his eye contact. My lips are so unbearably chapped they feel like they might split open at any moment, they might have actually, I can taste iron. I’m parched. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. I’m about to crack, I can feel it. “Water.” My voice is tiny at this point, crackly from the dehydration. “I need water.” My eyes start to sag and I press forward slightly, straining against the straps on my torso, skin raw beneath them after so much of my writhing.

Detective Aiko blinks at me from across the table and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He easily taps one forward and plucks it from the box between his lips. I can tell it’s a practiced movement, he does it without thinking. His habit has become muscle memory. He shoves the pack into his pocket again and retrieves a zippo lighter. If I was more conscious I probably would have rolled my eyes, if it didn’t feel like they might fall out of my head if I did. Of course he has a zippo, ugh. It’s like he learned how to be a cop from watching cheesy cop movies. He flicks it open and closed in a split second and the cigarette is lit. He takes a deep breath, sucking down the entire thing, inhaling so deeply that his chest puffs and swells almost double. He holds that breath for a long moment, releasing it slowly. I expect the smell of burnt tobacco, but there is none. The smoke pours from his nostrils in thick swirls, but it dissipates quickly, without a single trace that it had once been there.

I can see his eyes go glassy from the nicotine high, his shrouded eyes have barely left me. He stares at me like I’m a caged panther; cunning, dangerous, volatile. All things I might have been if I could possibly think straight. “You’ll get your water after you cooperate.” He shifts in the chair slightly, flicking the used cigarette butt to the side. It falls to the ground unceremoniously and I can only imagine how often he flings those things haphazardly and how many thousands he has personally littered into our environment. I’m instantly seething again. A moment ago, I had no capacity for anything really, and now I’m filled head to toe with rage towards this stupid fucking cop. This man withholding my fucking water, my fucking life source.

The thought that he’s actually killing me passes and I pull at the cuffs around my wrists. “Fucking water.” The chains scrape across the table and I can feel the blood on my mouth, my lips have definitely cracked in multiple spots, blood pooling between my teeth. “I fucking need water!” Now I’m just shaking the chains, trying to make enough noise to get him to give in, annoy him into submission. “Water!” His eyebrow twitches, he seemingly has a very short tolerance for my behavior now, no longer amused by my sass and antics.

He quickly rises from the chair and kicks it to the side, it goes clattering against the wall and loudly falls to the ground, tipped on its side. The sudden jolt silences me and the room is tense with the lack of sound. “Who do you work for?!” He yells at me, full chested. The same question Eraser Head asked me in the alley. Where my allegiances lie. There’s another moment of silence before I bust into intense, manic laughter. They still really think I work for someone?

My throat threatens to give out on me, but I can’t control the laughter. “Me, motherfucker!” I shout back, only not as full, my voice is dying quickly, my laughter soon falling with it, replaced by a hacking cough that I’m pretty sure just shredded the dry skin inside my very dry throat. That doesn’t really seem to satisfy him though. He just grunts and picks the chair back up, setting it upright, but not sitting down in it like before. He just stands there, so tall and trying to be intimidating.

He crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs at me just once. “So we’re gonna keep playing this game, huh?” He pulls out another cigarette and huffs it down just as quickly as the first, barely even savoring the drag. His eyes close and he shrugs. “I guess you don’t want that water.” He quickly strides out of the room, leaving me alone and tortured. I can’t move, my body is giving out, I can’t speak because of my hoarse, abused throat, I can’t do anything at all, but sit here. My mind flashes back to when I felt this way before, tied to a dining chair in front of my drunk birther. My eyes start to water and I am amazed that I even have the moisture left in my body to cry. The parallels are too similar and I can feel myself reverting back, the whimpering that’s beginning in the back of my throat. A couple tears start to fall and I’m slowly slipping into that mindset when I hear the door open again.

I try my best to harden my face, trying to mask the depravity that I had just been wallowing in, refusing to make eye contact with Detective Aiko as he rounds the table again and sits in that chair. He sets something on the table and I’m surprised when I look up, to see Eraser Head sitting in that chair across from me instead. There’s a water bottle on the table and I honestly have nothing to say. I’m overwhelmed by this change of events and the tears come faster now, silently streaming down my face. I feel so vulnerable and this man that I have only prodded and teased is the one here to help me. It’s like the universe is laughing at me, it feels like a trick, but one I’m knowingly and willingly letting myself fall into. I suck in a deep breath, hoping he won’t say anything about my tears. “They haven’t cleaned you up at all, have they?” His voice is low, but he honestly sounds concerned. I lamely shake my head, unable to tell him that I’ve been sitting strapped to this chair since the moment he left. He grunts shortly then stands, slowly grabbing the water bottle and cracking the lid open.

My tears lessen as I watch him, he’s looking at me like I’m a wounded animal and deep down I can’t blame him. All I’ve done since meeting him is lash out and hurt him. In spite of all that he reaches out to me slowly, the cold water bottle in one hand, the other gingerly gripping the side of my neck and tilting my head back. I look at him hesitantly. I’m just supposed to let him pour water into my mouth? That feels too weird, and intimate, and needy, but I can’t really pour the water into my own mouth, so I part my lips for him. He gently presses the rim of the water bottle onto my bottom lip, easing the cold, fresh water onto my sandpaper tongue. His fingertips graze the skin on my neck as the pad of his thumb softly wipes away my tears. It’s so gentle and intimate that I can’t help but cry harder. I’ve never felt such a sincere caress and it’s like my heart is breaking into a million pieces, astounded by the tenderness that I haven’t allowed myself to even realize I was missing. The silent resentment falling away for a moment and letting something new replace it. Adoration? Sympathy? Genuine gratitude?

I take in this new feeling hesitantly as I try to gulp down the water as quickly as he’s pouring it into my mouth. I relish in the feeling of the cool liquid on my tongue and into the back of my throat, soothing the burning I had endured for so long. The tears continue to fall even after the water bottle is empty and I realize his hand is still gently stroking my cheek in an attempt to calm my tears. He tosses the empty water bottle aside and peers down at me. I stare back up at him, my eyes starting to puff up from the tears I had just shed, cloudy with the residual moisture on my lashes. He’s even more beautiful now than ever before, caring for me so tenderly, and I think I understand now. I love him. I must love him. The way I was drawn to him before, it all makes sense. I’ve never felt anything like this before, no one has ever given me even a sliver of a second thought, but here he is. This man I don’t even know caring for a tortured criminal that’s done nothing, but awful things. It must be love. It must be... something at least.

I realize the moment’s been too long and I turn my gaze away, squeezing my eyes shut. I can’t help but feel embarrassed. Here he is helping me, giving me the water I so desperately needed and I can’t even choke out a ‘thank you’. Should I? Would he want me to? His hand falls away and I hear him start to shuffle to the door. Dammit. I’m breathing heavy, trying to catch my breath from the way I gulped down water like a dying horse. “I’m going to get a first aid kit.” I almost don’t hear him, but my eyes snap open. He’s coming back? To help me even more? Eraser Head is… going to tend my wounds… that I got fighting… HIM. This is all so bizarre and my head spins a little, but I can’t help the trace of a grin that tugs on my lips and the slight twinge of heat in my cheek.

I hear that knock on the door again, but before it opens I mumble out a small, drained. “Thank you.” My throat is still destroyed, but it’s enough that I hope he heard me. I guess I’ll never know if he did or even cared because the door opens and closes with no acknowledgment that I had said anything. Once again, I am left by myself, in this too bright room, strapped to a metal chair. As I sit here, it’s hard not to fall back into my miserable thoughts. Self loathing and what if’s come easily. What if that really was a trick? What if he’s never coming back? What if I just imagined the whole thing? What if he’s disgusted by me and just taking pity? I internally cringe at myself. That one is probably closest to the truth. He thinks of me like a charity case, someone who can’t help themselves. He’s a hero after all, that good ole savior complex will always rear it’s big, nasty head at some point. He’s helping me to make himself feel better, not to make me feel better. I sneer at myself. I almost fell into his trap, but no. I’m better than that. I was almost that dumb cunt I used to be, trusting people, needing others help. Fuck no. I promised myself I would never be that person again. I’m better now.

But then the indignation fades and all I’m left with is the reality of the situation. I do need his help. I’m broken and bleeding, strapped to a chair in an interrogation room. I start to cry again. It’s not a heavy cry, just one that makes you realize so much in such a short period of time. I cry as I realize I do need help. I need more help now than I’ve ever needed before. I’ve probably needed help this entire time and refused to see it, refused to ask for it. Asking for help never seemed like an option, it seemed like a burden. Yet, Eraser Head isn’t even offering me help, he’s giving it. Willingly. Of his own accord.

I continue to struggle with my thoughts on the situation far longer than I would deem necessary before I admit to myself it doesn’t matter because he’s simply not coming back. It’s been too long for him to have actually been going to get a first aid kit. He’s gone forever now. Poof. Might as well stop thinking about him. I can’t though. Can’t stop thinking about his perfect face, the way he touched my neck, the tenor of his voice, the scruff on his chin, the scar under his eye, the heat of his body behind mine. It all sends a thrill through me, but more than that, just a deep sense of longing. I yearn for him. I just want him to come back to me, I don’t care if he has the first aid kit he left for or not. I just want him to be present with me because everything just hurts less when he’s here. The open wounds mean nothing when he’s here. He’s the only reason any of my pain has ever been eased. I need him. I love him.

I start to allow fresh tears to fall, but my eyes are already welded shut from the fat tears I had shed earlier, too heavy to open and crusted over with dried tears because I still can’t wipe my eyes. The new ones gently come and allow me to crack open my eyes just slightly. I’m honestly on the brink of exhaustion, but my body has miraculously found a way to push forward. I’m taking a deep breath, trying to re-center myself. Get a grip on reality. Stretch my fingers and toes, get some feeling back in my aching body, crack my neck as best as I can. It’s not much, but it helps. I’m the only one that can do anything for me now. I start trying to survey the room to a closer extent than I had before, but honestly it’s still the same, too bright, all white room. I guess I can see a vent in the top right corner, but it’s too small for me to even think about escaping from. Not to mention, I can’t see a camera, so it must be in the corner behind me, watching, recording my every move. I grumble. There’s also the two way mirror, that I assume has had at least three people on the other side of it at all times. I’m completely under thumb.

I sigh, there’s not much I can do in this situation, and this dumb collar is still canceling my quirk. I’m chained up and defenseless. Fucking great. The door scrapes open again and I startled to see Eraser Head quickly invade the room, that wild look in his eyes again. The tips of his hair are flicking back and forth angrily, but not like it was before when he was erasing my quirk, more like… he’s just worked up. He’s breathing deeply, standing up straight and crossing his arms, a full 180 from his calm, gentle demeanor he had earlier. He’s actually quite intimidating like this and I start to shrink into myself, not knowing why his mood has changed. I didn’t do anything. He looks to the door and reaches out to flick his wrist in a ‘get the fuck over here’ motion. Detective Aiko comes into the room and unlocks my cuffs, releasing my arms from the table. He seems reluctant and I’m insanely confused by this sudden turn of events. My eyes are wide and I look to Eraser Head again, confusion evident on my twisted up face. “I’m taking you to the hospital. The collar will stay on and I will cuff you down when we get there.” He says it all so blankly and I’m even more confused that I was before he answered.

Detective Aiko doesn’t look up, he just grumbles out a gruff, ‘bad fucking idea’ before moving onto the straps at my torso, allowing me to pull away from the chair just a little bit. I struggle to force my muscles to keep myself upright, wanting to slump over and crumple to the floor. He undoes the one at my lap and I barely feel it because my entire bottom half has gone numb at this point. He lowers down further and unlocks the cuffs at my ankles, fully freeing me from the chair. I’m immediately elated to be liberated once again, getting overzealous and springing from the chair. Blood rushes to my head and my numb legs remind me how bad of an idea that is because I tip forward, falling into the metal table, the wind knocked from my lungs. I let out a wheeze and feel strong hands pull me back up onto my feet from my shoulders.

Eraser Head wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me flush to his hip to support my weight. I can feel his hero muscles swell as he pulls me off the table, shifting so we can shuffle towards the door. I’m still dazed and weak, trying to work with his movements instead of against them, but my legs can barely hold myself up and he ends up dragging me along with him more than anything else. My head is right next to his shoulder, tucked tight to his body and I press myself closer, nuzzling my cheek onto his collarbone. He feels so good against me. I’m so woozy, I feel like I’m dreaming. This all could be a mirage, I am dehydrated as hell. But it feels so real and so good that I just submit to it immediately. I press even further, trying to get up to his neck. Trying to be closer. The moment crashes around me in an instant as cuffs fall around my wrists. Damn. It’s Detective Aiko standing behind me, cuffing my wrists together and ruining the moment I was just having with Eraser. I glare up at him and he just ignores me, squeezing the cuffs tighter, too tight. I yelp, but he just looks over to Eraser Head like, ‘Really?’. Eraser grunts and holds his hand out for the key, he still has that wild look in his eye and I realize now that it’s pointed at Detective Aiko. HE’s in the doghouse, not me. Well, I am still arrested, but it doesn’t really feel like it when Eraser Head is personally escorting me to the ER, cuffs or no cuffs. Detective Aiko drops the key into his outstretched hand with an eyeroll.

Eraser Head spins me around, so I’m facing forward. My head is still dizzy, but my legs are starting to get some feeling back and I’m able to stand on my own now, even if I am a bit wobbly. He pulls me close to him again, gripping my bicep with one hand and supporting my weight with a hand on my hip. He’s taller than I remember him being. Glancing over my shoulder, I have to look up at him. His jaw is set, clenched with the anger he’s trying to hold back, silently seething. He’s still eyeing Detective Aiko with a menacing nature, I know his quirk is eye related, but it seems he also has a natural affinity for staring anyways. I watch him tuck the key into his front pocket, then grip my arm again, his hands are so large. I gulp, now realizing my ass is basically pressed up to his hip. He’s still taller than me, it's more like his thigh, but that doesn’t change the fact that my ass is on this man. My mind goes crazy as he holds me there, having some kind of stare down with Aiko. Neither of them has moved, but after a moment the detective shifts back with a grumble. Eraser Head grunts and guides me forward, supporting me as we exit the interrogation room.

Eyes follow us as Eraser Head leads me out of the room and down the hall. The receptionist at the front desk gasps when she sees me walking (semi) free. I can tell they all know who I am. I can tell they’re all scared of me. I don't need my quirk for that. I take advantage of the tense scene before me and grin, lurching forward at the woman sitting at the desk. Eraser Head is still gripping me firmly, so I don’t make it very far before he yanks me back to his body, but I do make it far enough to scare that bitch gawking at me. She screams and drops the phone receiver in her hand, stumbling backwards. I didn’t really expect such a dramatic reaction, did she really think I was gonna rip her head off or something? I’m fucking handcuffed… and doesn’t she fucking work at the police station? She should be used to this by now, why is she so fucking scared? Dramatic bitch.

Eraser Head pushes me forward, obviously still riled up from previous events. I stumble forward a bit, but his grip on me is so firm I couldn’t fall if I wanted to. We continue walking through the waiting lobby, until we reach two large glass doors. Outside the doors, it’s day time, probably late afternoon by the look of the sunlight. I take a deep breath, ready to take a step out those doors, ready to leave this awful fucking place, full of these awful fucking people. Eraser presses the handicap button and the door swinging open, the air is warm as we step out and it’s a little joy in this shitty situation that I bask in for a moment. When we step onto the sidewalk, I look up at Eraser Head. This protective stance, the hand on my hip, if I just ignore the handcuffs it’s like we’re a couple on a stroll. I smile up at him, thinking about how sweet he looks with his hair catching the late afternoon light. It’s golden hour and it settles on him nicely, highlighting his stark features. His eyes flick down to me and an expression of genuine surprise passes his face for a split second. He looks away quickly, a blush coating his cheeks, but his face returns to its stoic default.

We continue like this for a moment until we come up on his vehicle. I’m not sure what I expected, but a small wave of sadness washes over me as he opens the rear door, shoving me into the backseat. I didn’t really think he would put me in the front with him, but this feels so… impersonal. I guess that’s what we are. Impersonal. I mean, I don’t even know his last name. I slouch into the black leather of the car and pout to myself, feeling defeated. Eraser Head buckles me into the seat, leaning over me with his whole, big body. Heat floods my stomach and suddenly I’m feeling something… else. I huff, breathing in his scent, I can still smell the bergamot on him, but the other scent on him still eludes me. It’s sweet and musky, almost earthy. He pulls away before I can breathe in again, shutting the door on me, boxing me into this car alone again. He’s in the driver’s seat about 4 seconds later, but the silence of being alone again still stands out to me. I shake my head, and try to focus on the sounds of the car as he roars the engine to life and pulls out of the parking lot.

Thank you for reading! :)

I love reading yall’s comments so please leave a note for me! (see that double entendre hehe im so smart) 

but seriously, thanks for the love and the followers especially for only one fic

(also I hope u all can tell how much I fucking despise the cops for this chapter)

#Entrapment #YOU GOT OUT! #kinda #i would genuinely throw hands at aiko so just know im fully about that life #gratatatataaaaaaa #acab #aizawa #aizawa shouta #bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #mr aizawa #bnha #bnha oc #bnha x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #fanfiction #fan fic #my hero fanfic #mha fanfiction #fan fic author

[sapphire-strikes]

Okay first your ending to that story was *mwah* perfect 👌. Second I remember you saying one time you didn't know whether to make Pabit sentient or not. What if he was and FK and Kamal freaked out seeing it for the first time and Boris just was kinda like "I thought you guys knew." I feel Pabit would be a second pair of eyes for Boris such as at "beddy time" if he was fast asleep and say FK/Kamal managed to get by and Pabit pops up yelling whichever one was up.

I've been meaning to write some about Pabit for a while but I was never quite decided on whether or not I considered him to be his own person (much like the Carlas) or just a regular puppet. There's something really endearing about him being a mini mischievous version of Boris though and I think there's a lot of potential for the dynamic between Him, Boris, the FK and Kamal.

• In the event that Pabit really was alive, it was another one of those things Boris just never got around to bringing up. Everyone already knew about the Carlas and much like his shadow form, he just never really questioned the strangeness of it all.

• Honestly, Kamal probably knows or at least suspects something. He was freaked out enough by the Carlas so he just avoided the subject of the puppet all together. Sometimes self care is pretending your roommate isn't keeping a sentient puppet replica of himself in your house.

• That brings us to Pabit himself. The cheeky, attention hungry, smile happy puppet of Boris Habit.

• When Pabit speaks his voice is higher than Boris' and lacks the Russian accent. Pabit is capable of moving and talking on his own but his voice is actually one Boris is capable of doing himself. It's unknown whether Boris is good at mimicking Pabit or Pabit speaks that way because that's the voice Boris gave him. Probably the latter.

• Even if you knew Pabit was alive it would be hard to tell sometimes whether Boris was talking through Pabit or Pabit was talking himself. The difference usually being that Pabit is much more expressive when he's talking on his own.

• Pabit is a little mischief maker but he's desperate for attention and interaction. Most of the time he's happy to let Boris puppet him around when in front of people but he's desperate for the opportunity to talk to them himself.

• He already loves you and Kamal but Boris prefers not to let him alone with either of you and has asked him not to interact with anyone when he's not around. Boris knows what a troublemaker he can be and doesn't want him to do anything to annoy his friends.

• Despite his unhappiness with this rule Pabit does listen to Boris most of the time but still finds little ways to interact with the people he grows attached to.

• Maybe the keys that you'd lost reappeared out of nowhere, setting inconspicuously next to the satisfied looking puppet. Sometimes when you leave papers on the table you come back to see them adorned with little doodles of flowers, pictures of Boris and even Pabit himself. Most of the time you chalked this up to Boris trying to be sneaky.

• On the other hand, Kamal's things tend to go missing when Pabit is bored, resulting in Kamal marching right into Boris' room and fishing them out of the puppets arm hole where they had been stashed. Gives Pabit the "I'm watching you" hand motion as he walks backwards out into the hall.

• One day you stumbled upon the puppet sitting innocently on the living room coffee table unsupervised. Giving into your base instincts you slipped it onto your hand.

Maybe that was an overstatement. It was a pretty big puppet so you just placed it over your forearm. The inside was clearly made for much bigger hands but you were still able to slip your fingers into the right spots and make it do a little chomping motion. You giggled then gazed down at the little replica of Boris, "You're a cute little guy aren't ya? Boris really did a good job on you." If you didn't know any better you could have sworn it was smiling wider than it was before.

When Boris walked in on your little playtime you lifted one of Pabit's little arms to make him wave, "Boris, we were just talking about you!" You remark jokingly.

Boris looked shocked at first but his expression soon softened when he looked down at the puppet on your arm, "Oh really? I'm sure he had a lot to say."

"Nah, I don't think he's much for conversation"

"You have no idea how wrong you are" There was a clear trace of exasperation in his voice that caught your attention.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Oh? Ah, never mind" He waved you off "It's about time for him go back to 'bed' anyways. I just finished cleaning his stand so I can put him back in my room now". You nodded and Boris reached for the puppet on your arm, gently attempting to pull it off. As soon as he did however you swear you felt something resist and the puppet stayed put on your arm despite his attempt to remove it.

Boris retracted his grip in surprise to stare at the puppet. It all happened so fast you weren't sure what really just happened but Boris looked like someone had just walked into his flower shop and smashed his prized tooth lilies. His expression shifted to annoyance and he crossed his arms, "So you're going to be like that? You know if you can't behave, I won't bring you out to play with Y/n and Kamal anymore."

Now you were the one that looked shocked. Was he talking to the puppet? I mean, he always talked to the puppet or through the puppet, usually both at the same time, but this was different. "Boris, what are you talking about?"

It seemed like Boris had finally remembered you were there as he sighed and looked disappointedly down at his felt doppelganger. "Oh it's nothing, Pabit is just being stubborn." His expression finally settle back into a smile, "Though I am a bit surprised. He usually never even lets other people put him on but I guess he always has been pretty 'attached' to you." He covered his mouth to laughed at a joke that only he seemed to understand.

You were still confused but Boris seemed to be acting normal again so you decided to brush it under the rug. You moved to pull the puppet off your arm yourself and it came off with no trouble. When you handed it to Boris he stared at it for a second before letting out a relenting, "Oh, very well" and slipping it on himself.

He turned to you with Pabit and smiled, closing the distance between you by holding the puppet out closely to your face, "Goodnight, Y/n!" It spoke cheerily. It then reached out, held onto your face and pressed it's mouth to the bridge of your nose. Letting out a drawn out, "Mmwwah!", sound before being pulled back to smile at you proudly. After saying your goodbyes both Boris and Pabit headed off to bed.

• You had to smile, Boris could be so silly sometimes. You'd have to ask him later how he got the arms to move without the wires.

• Not long after that you found more of those silly little doodles decorating the pages of the notebook that you'd left on the table. The scribbles depicted you and Pabit together with the puppet happily hugging the side of your face from his place on your arm.

• I can absolutely see Pabit being Boris' little tattletale. Kamal has caught on enough to move the puppet out of the room before doing something he doesn't want Boris to know about but you on the other hand don't catch on for a while.

• You cut your hand pretty bad one day and Boris asked you how it was later that evening. Even though you were home alone when it happened and you hadn't mentioned it to anyone.

• How did Boris know that you didn't eat breakfast this morning or that you snuck out of bed last night to watch tv? Boris's only explanation is that he "has his ways" but he's too busy lecturing you for you to press him further.

• One night you successfully snuck out of bed again and thought you were in the clear. What you didn't notice however was the puppet that seemed to get closer and closer to you each time it was out of your line of sight.

By the time you finally noticed it it was sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. It actually caused you to jump when you turned around to see it almost directly behind you but quickly regained your composure and laughed it off.

Picking it up you turned it around a few times before placing it over your hand like you'd done once before. Feeling confident in yourself for your successful escape so far you decided to play around a bit. "You really spooked me, little guy! How'd you get out here huh? Did Boris forget to take you to bed?" You asked jokingly.

The puppets felt eyes stared up at you lifelessly and you let out a small laugh. "Hey now, don't look at me like that. You'll keep this between the two of us right?"

"...."

"Good boy, knew I could count on you!" Maybe you were just tired but you could see how Boris had so much fun with this. It was childish sure but you were certainly entertaining yourself.

Once you were satisfied with the puppet’s "agreement" to keep quite you moved to take it off your arm. "Okay, I've had my fun. So, you want to watch TLC or Cartoon Network?" You asked, not expecting an answer as you set the puppet back on the coffee table.

What you were expecting even less however was for the puppet's expression to shift to a scowl as its little arms wrapped around your hand when you went to pull it away.

"YoU shyOuld bEe in Bed!"

• Boris jumped up in alarm and Kamal fell out of bed at the scream that sounded from outside their rooms.

• You had literally thrown Pabit across the living room in surprise and were currently frozen in shock as it picked itself up, brushed itself off and hopped its way back over to climb back up on top of the coffee table.

"W-what did you just say?!"

It crossed it's arms and cocked an eyebrow at you as if sarcastically asking 'did you really not hear me? '. "I saYeD; u shYould bee in bEd! StAying up lAyte is bad 4 yor smile!"

"I.."

There was a long moment of silence between the two of you as the puppet looked at you expectantly. After a second you finally found the strength to speak, taking a step closer once you decided that it didn't really seem dangerous. "...You can talk?"

Your question seems to surprise it a bit and its angry expression shifted to one of pride. "I cAn do a lott moore than thyat!" It pointed at the sides of it's cheeks as it gave you a big smile. You went silent again and the puppet seemed to be inspecting your face, it's smile fading when it focused on your own worried expression.

"Sea? U stAyed up 2 layte and now you R all frowny :-(" It made it's way across the coffee table to where you were standing and hugged your knee. "It's okee! I'm hear 2 mayke u happie so tUrn thyat frowny upside downy!"

This wasn't exactly comforting considering that the puppet itself was the cause of your fear and you were quick to jump away when it touched you. This action was quickly followed up by guilt however when it looked genuinely surprised and then hurt by your rejection of its affection. It seemed as if it was about to speak again when Boris and Kamal both came clamoring out into the hallway.

"Kid, what happened?! We heard a scream is everything okay?"

They were both quick to approach you and check you over but your eyes were still locked on the puppet who was now looking at you sadly. Their worried questions were soon answered when they followed your gaze to the puppet sitting on the coffee table.

Boris was quick to gasp and lift the puppet up by the back of its coat like you would with the scruff of a kitten, "Pabit, did you wake them up?!"

"No, I folloWed thyem out here! " The puppet waved it hands in front of itself in defense but it seemed to forget about Boris quickly when it's eyes fixed of Kamal. "Oooh, hi, Karmal!" it yelled as it waved excitedly at him. Kamal responded by running a hand down his face.

"Oh, boy... Hi, puppet--Pabit, I mean..." The puppet seemed pleased by his acknowledgement but its attention was pulled back to Boris who seemed to be telling it off about something. You'd moved to almost hide behind Kamal who placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, "You okay?"

"I'm fine, I just...It can talk?" You looked at him for answers and he gave you a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

You were both pulled from your little moment of understanding by the voices that were being raised beside you.

"You shouldn't have scared them, Pabit" Boris's tone sounded disappointed.

"Eet wAsn't on porous, I swears it! I just wanTed 2 makE sure they waz gEtting enough syleep!" The puppets eyes moved back to you and it shook both it fists, "Y/n, yous been stayiNg up every nyight and knot geTting up 2 smile!"

"It said my name.. " Was your only response as you continued to shield youself behind Kamal. Your fear once again caused the puppet to deflate, it now hanging limply in Boris's grip with it's arms crossed as it looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry if he scared you, Y/n" Boris finally spoke to you.

"It's...it's okay, it just surprised me that's all..." You finally stepped out from behind Kamal. "How long has it been...alive?"

"Oh, since I made him." Boris answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "He doesn't usually talk to people unless I'm around though."

"I see..." Boris seemed to finally be taking note of your discomfort and said he was going to take Pabit aside for a moment, leaving you standing in the living room with Kamal.

"Yeah, the little guy used to cling to my leg when I’d work around the office back at the Habitat."

"So it really has been alive this whole time?"

"Yep, been dead silent since my fight with Boris though. First time I've seen him up and about since then. Been totally inanimate around anyone but Boris I guess. Until, now at least. Guess you have a knack for bringing things out of people and puppets!"

You both laughed and you turned to him quizzically, "Okay, but...how?"

Kamal raised a hand to stop you, "You think I got the know-how to answer that?" He smiled at you again "That's just more of Boris and I don't think even he could answer you to be honest."

"Heh, I guess you're right." You relented and Kamal wrapped and arm around your shoulder, offering you a comforting pat.

"Ahem"

You both looked in the direction of the cough and there stood Boris, holding something behind his back. "I had a talk with Pabit and I believe the two of you got off on the wrong foot. So..." He was looking at you hopefully and when you didn't look hesitant he took a few steps closer to you, "There is someone I'd like you to meet!"

You already knew what was about to happen next when he pulled the puppet out from behind him. The puppet fit perfectly over his forearm as he held it out to you. It was a very familiar sight but with much different implications since you now knew his little secret. Pabit himself looked to be a mixture of annoyed, nervous and sad and it refused to look directly at you despite your close proximity.

There were a few second of silence before Boris gave his arm a small shake, "Go ahead and introduce yourself, Pabit!", he whispered. Pabit remained silent, crossing his little arms once again and keeping his gaze fixated on the floor. "Pabit?"

The puppet muttered something under it's breath that none of you could make out. "What was that?" Boris asked

"I sayed; we already knows each other..." The puppet spoke out again more clearly. Clear enough that you could make out the hurt in its voice.

Oh, so that's what this was about. Thinking back now, you guess he was kind of right. The amount of times Boris brought out that puppet to cheer you up or just mess around were immeasurable. It was weird to think about; during a lot of the special moments you shared with Boris, Pabit was technically there too. He knew you at least, probably almost as well as Boris and Kamal did.

Before Boris could respond you spoke up, "I guess he's kind of right." This seemed to catch Pabit's attention and he finally looked at you again. "I'm sorry for throwing you, Pabit. I hope you can forgive me and hope we can...talk more in the future?" You gave a nervous smile and Pabit squinted at you suspiciously for a moment.

"Off course!" Boris let out an 'oof' when Pabit pulled his arm forward so he could hug your face, making the extra effort to rub his cheek against yours. "I still Luv u, Y/n!"

The shock must have finally been beginning to wear off because you were able to stop yourself from jumping away this time. You even reached up to to pat his head, “I uh, love you too, I guess?” Your words were spoken with uncertainty but they seemed to make Pabit happy as he let out an excited squeal and continued to cuddle your face. 

It was definitely a strange sight to behold; three people standing in a dimly lit living room with one of them holding out a puppet that was hugging one of the others faces. Boris was using his free hand cover his mouth as he smiled widely and Kamal was standing behind you with a tired but content look on his face.

• Now that you knew about Pabit, Boris loses him as a spy but gains him as a guard dog. Now there are two of them lecturing you about staying up late.

• Unlike Boris though you can actually bribe Pabit to stay quiet with cartoons, candy or just bringing him along if you're going somewhere. Now Boris is disappointed in both of you. 

• Pabit doesn't need to sleep but he can if he wants to. It's a little creepy because if he doesn't close his eyes beforehand they'll stay open. When sleeping he basically becomes a regular inanimate puppet until he wakes up.

• If you put him on he can actually prevent you from taking him back off. Tends to do it just to play around but lets go if the person whos arm he's on gets angry at him.

•Loves being used as a teddy bear. You feel something crawling up through your covers in the middle of the night and almost have a heart attack? It's just Pabit coming for snuggles.

Thanks so much for the request! Sorry, everyone, for the lack of content I appreciate all the requests I’ve been getting I’ve just been super busy lately so I appreciate your patience!

#smile for me #boris habit #dr. habit #pabit #reader/flower kid #sfm #Got that last one from a comic I saw ages ago #but I can't for the love of God find it #Still undecided on whether or not I consider this 'canon'

[summerwritesfics]

🎧Song Inspired Shorts - Haunt Me

Pairing & Characters: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 875 Words Rating: Mature Content/Warnings: Paranormal AU, Human/Ghost relationship, Death, Grief, Implied Murder, Mention of blood, Séance, Ouija board, Ambiguous ending Song: Haunt Me - Wednesday 13

Song Inspired Shorts Masterlist

Sitting in the dark, Drinking my own blood, And a voice, it whispers, "Hello my love", Haunt me, haunt me like you used to, Won't you scare me, oh, Haunt me, haunt me like you used to, I love you best when you scare me to death

The house was silent aside from the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. It only served to emphasize the loneliness that Hanzo felt. Once this place had been a home, full of love and life, but all that disappeared a long time ago.

Kuai Liang was dead, and on that day, everything else just seemed to go with him.

He strode through the darkness, not bothering to turn on any of the lights. He knew the house enough to be able to navigate to his destination without running into any objects. Even in his own self pity, he was still meticulously clean. If Kuai were still here, he wouldn't dare walk around in the dark, the other man constantly got distracted in the middle of tasks and left the strangest objects just lying around the place. Hanzo had often accused him of secretly trying to kill him by making him trip and break his neck. He chuckled despite himself, remembering Kuai's declaration that if he were trying to kill Hanzo he'd be a lot more upfront than that.

Little had either of them known that it would be Kuai who was claimed by death first.

His laughter faded. Still he'd made it to the back room, where he'd cleared out almost everything besides an old coffee table that was a wedding gift from Bi-Han. It had been a good will gesture, he and Hanzo had never exactly seen eye to eye, and the attempt to mend that had meant the world to Kuai. It was perfect for what Hanzo was about to attempt.

He placed down the canvas bag next to the table, before settling himself down, legs crossed on the floor. Opening the bag, he took out a wooden box. Carefully opening it, revealing a board that lay within, he took it out and unfolded it onto the table. He'd been warned by the vendor to not use the Ouija Board alone, something about dangerous spirits using the board to communicate, but he couldn't do this with anyone else. He needed to do this alone.

He set the planchette down next to the board, avoiding placing it until he was ready to start. He placed the box to one side, before diving back into the bag. He pulled out two packs of candles, one blue and one red. He had intended to just use the blue ones, given that was his beloveds favourite colour, but the previously mentioned vendor had insisted that spirits were drawn to red candles. It sounded ridicules in Hanzo's mind, but he'd gone along with it just in case it was true. Even if the colour red still left him feeling uneasy.

Red. Like the blood that had covered the bedsheets the day Kuai had been stolen from him.

He shook his head and buried the memory. He took the blue candles out first, arranged them around the board, before reluctantly taking the red ones and placing them in between the gaps. Satisfied, he reached back into the bag, placing down the box of matches next to the planchette. The bag now empty, he discarded it, reaching instead for the necklace around his neck. A pair of wedding rings, the rings he and Kuai had exchanged on their wedding day, his embedded with a sapphire and Kuai's with a citrine. He traced the golden bands with his thumb, eyes trained on the citrine, remembering how easily it slipped onto Kuai Liang's finger.

He placed the necklace just above the Ouija board, reaching for the matches. He struck one, quickly using it to start lighting the candles. Everything now set, he reached for the planchette, placing it down in the middle of the board, placing his hands loosely on it. He tried to remember what the vendor had told him to do, but his mind was drawing a blank.

On top of that, he got the sudden feeling like he was being watching.

Taking a deep breath to ignore the feeling in his chest, he opened his mouth to ask, “Are there any spirits present?”

Silence.

He stared at the planchette with an uneasy silence, waiting for it to move. He closed his eyes, unsure why he'd even believed this would work in the first place. It had been silly of him to believe that he could speak with his husband from somewhere beyond the grave.

Then he felt something, something that felt like ice-cold hands covering his. He opened his eyes, there was nothing there but the feeling persisted. Then the planchette started to move. He felt his heart beating in his chest, watching as it along with his hands were moved towards the letter “h”. He wasn't doing this, even subconsciously he wasn't doing this. He withdrew his hands and the cold feeling disappeared, but still the planchette slowly made it's way towards the letter “e”.

He watched, as it continued it's movements, slowly spelling out a sentence. It took all of Hanzo's strength to continue to follow and not let his mind drift away out of shock.

The planchette finally finished it's journey, and Hanzo had to blink the tears stinging his eyes away as he realised just what had been said.

“Hello, my love.”

#Mortal Kombat #SubScorp #Sub Zero #Kuai Liang #Scorpion #Hanzo Hasashi #🎧song inspired shorts

[glorious-blackout]

Self-Indulgent Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino/Simulation Theory Crossover Fix-It Part Two:

@rock-n-roll-fantasy Turns out I can’t chastise you too much for not feeling satisfied with your own work because I’m not sure I’m ever going to be happy with this part 😅 Hopefully I’ve been able to (mostly) salvage it from its messy first draft form. I’ve been editing Part Three in tandem with this one so hopefully it won’t take me too long to finish that off as well. With all that preamble out of the way, I hope you enjoy this part 🥰

Part One

Original Fic

**********************************************************

Alex awoke to the sight of gentle sunbeams drifting through the window, highlighting floating dust motes as golden light cascaded towards the floorboards.  

It was as warm as the clear skies outside would suggest. The logs residing in the extinguished burner had been reduced to mere blackened husks surrounded by papery strips of ash. Judging by the growing discomfort caused by the many layers covering Alex’s frame, the warmth they once provided was no longer an urgent necessity.  

It took a couple of seconds for his surroundings to make sense. The unfamiliar sights and smells of the seaside cabin left him drifting in confusion, unable to remember how he wound up sleeping on the floor among a pile of sweaty bedsheets. It was only when his subconscious noted a rather significant absence that the events of yesterday resurfaced with a jolt, and he found himself torn between slipping back into a dreamless slumber and lurching to his feet in search of Matt.

Because Matt should have been there, shouldn’t he? A scattered mess of tangled bedsheets remained in the spot where he had been lying last night, but when Alex placed a hand upon their surface he found that they had grown cold. The cabin remained quiet with the exception of occasional footfalls as someone pottered about behind him, but they sounded far too heavy to belong to Matt. On top of that, Matt’s lurid jacket had been left in a heap atop the pile of sheets, the mass of LED panels dim and lifeless in the absence of power. Alex knew, or he assumed he did, that if Matt had any intention of leaving then he would have woken him first, but much as he tried, he could not remember any attempts to rouse him.

The growing heat was getting to him. Alex groaned in discomfort as he became acutely aware of the sweat gluing his jeans to his thighs, and he kicked wildly at the sheets which had entrapped him overnight. The downside of lying on a firm wooden surface with little padding made itself evident as he sat up, noting every new ache across his body with a groan as the room span in the wake of his sudden movements. Only when the world stilled and the nausea settled in his gut did he acknowledge that he appeared to be the last one up. The only person remaining in the cabin besides himself was a well-rested Jeremiah who - despite being at least two decades older than Alex - appeared to have more energy in that moment than the younger man could dream of having.  

Jeremiah had noticed his tortuous awakening, if the amusement glinting in his eyes was any indication. Alex’s discomfort must have been clear as day, for the older man immediately wandered towards the stockpile of water and freed one bottle before chucking it in Alex’s direction. The action was followed by the suggestive rise of a finger to Jeremiah’s lips, leaving Alex with the distinct impression that his partner would hardly appreciate this gratuitous sharing of supplies.  

Not that George appeared to be here either.  

Alex barely had time to be thankful for George’s absence, for his attention was immediately drawn to the precious bottle in his hands. It occurred to him that his sluggish, pseudo-hungover state could have more to do with the fact that his mouth was as dry as a desert than he’d previously appreciated. Without a second thought, he ripped the lid from the bottle and gulped as much of the lukewarm water as he could manage in one go. He could hear a distant chuckle over the sound of liquid cascading down his throat, but any self-consciousness over what he must look like left him in an instant. He was parched and sore and far too overheated for comfort, and he’d emerged less than twenty-four hours ago onto a planet that had been ruined beyond repair. Shame was hardly an emotion he had the energy to experience.

The bottle was completely drained in record time, and Alex closed his eyes in quiet satisfaction for a moment. Only upon opening them again did he remember what had roused him with such urgency, and he cast his eyes around the cabin as though Matt could somehow be concealed within its walls. The sheer impossibility of this notion became obvious quickly, given how small their living space was, but even the outside world seemed far too quiet for his liking.  

George’s absence was equally unexplained, and Alex started to wonder if the two were linked. Much as he liked and implicitly trusted Jeremiah, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy about George. The man had made no secret of his dislike for strangers the second he set eyes upon the pair of newcomers. At one point his manner had even evoked echoes of Murphy, which was hardly a marker of good character in Alex’s book. Admittedly, he knew that Matt had encountered and ultimately defeated worse foes than a grumpy middle-aged man, but it appeared that finding himself exposed to this unfamiliar world had taken hold of Alex’s nerves and dialled them up to eleven.

A fact which must have been blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes.  

“Yer boy’s alright, don’t you worry,” Jeremiah announced out of the blue, chuckling with mirth when Alex turned to him, wide-eyed and more than a little frazzled. Mornings had never been his strong suit, and this one was proving to be especially strenuous. Jeremiah, on the other hand, looked perfectly serene - or as serene as a grizzled survivor could look anyway. He had been in the process of strapping himself into a pair of thick walking boots before Alex’s panic had become too blatant to ignore.

“George was all fer kickin’ ya out, but yer friend made a case fer ya hangin’ around and earnin’ yer keep,” Jeremiah explained further, heaving a sigh at the mention of his partner’s lack of hospitality. Alex felt a sliver of fear creep up his spine at the prospect of having to leave their newfound shelter so soon, followed by a spark of gratitude over the fact that Matt had apparently wrangled his way out of an early eviction. “I woulda been happy with ya stayin’ regardless, but a little extra help would be nice I s’pose. They headed off about an hour ago. George always likes ta head out before the sun grows fierce.”

“Oh,” was all Alex could say, unsure whether he should feel reassured or not. At least he finally had an explanation for Matt’s whereabouts, though he imagined it would be easier to take comfort from that if he hadn’t been paired with the very man who’d wandered into the cabin wielding a shotgun last night.  

The unspoken implications of Matt’s bargaining tactics weren’t lost on him either. “Take it I’m joining you then?”

His phrasing made him come across as far more reluctant than intended, though if Jeremiah took any offence, he was gracious enough not to show it.  

“Only if ya fancy it,” the older man said with a bashful shrug. Alex couldn’t help but wonder if he could detect a trace of disappointment in the man’s otherwise cheerful tone, and an uncomfortable sense of guilt coiled in his gut. “Ya could always cook dinner or give the place a bit o’ a scrub if you’d prefer?”

The proposal was almost tempting. Casting a glance around the cabin was enough to assure Alex that the place was hardly in need of an intensive cleaning session, and no doubt he could whip up something edible from the extensive stockpile of canned goods their hosts had amassed. Staying here on his own would give him time to unwind. Time to breathe. He could take a stroll across the beach and let his body sink beneath the waves, just for a little while, until any trace of lingering doubt vanished from his mind and he allowed himself to accept the fact that he had made it home.  

Only, the longer he dwelled on it, the more obvious it became that spending the day alone would be a terrible idea. In Jeremiah’s company, he would at least be provided with a distraction. Someone to bounce conversation off of; someone who could offer valuable information about this world which had become so alien to him. The alternative would inevitably result in his mind subjecting him to cruel imaginings regarding the fates of his loved ones, and he knew full well that his sanity was hanging by a thread as it was. Subjecting himself to loneliness was not a good idea right now, no matter how enticing the notion may seem at first glance.

“Best not,” Alex conceded, masking his inner turmoil behind a weak smile. “Me mates always say I’m hopeless at cookin’. Doubt me mum ever rated my cleaning skills either, come to think of it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jeremiah said with a faint chuckle, wearing an expression so carefree that his eyes were practically twinkling. He broke eye contact for only a moment, as he gathered together an old hiking rucksack and a pair of ancient fishing rods, before turning his attention back to Alex. “You ever been crab-fishin', lad?”

He had. Bitter melancholy cascaded over him as the question transported him to seaside holidays from his youth; back to lazy afternoons sat by rocky piers as his dad patiently taught him the process of fishing for crabs. As he remembered it, he always found the venture exciting for a solid half-hour, before deciding that his bucket was better-suited to building sandcastles on the nearby beach. Of all the things to be consumed by nostalgia for, he’d hardly expected crab-fishing to be one of them, but he supposed in this day and age he was doomed to become wistful about every aspect of his former life.

“Once or twice,” Alex admitted eventually. “Not since I were a kid though.”

“That’s alright,” Jeremiah said, beaming. “I ain’t had the chance to show someone the ropes for a while. Could be fun.”

With that said, he gathered his equipment together and disappeared out the door, leaving Alex on the floor with sleep clinging to his eyes and what was likely a serious case of bed-head. It struck him that Jeremiah may have expected him to follow, and with some reluctance he rose to his feet, pointedly ignoring the growl emanating from his stomach. Some food would hardly go amiss before setting off on what promised to be an intensive trip, nor would the chance to shed his sweat-stained clothes. He would not be surprised if such luxuries were denied, however. Judging by the bright sunlight beyond the window, he had likely wasted a significant chunk of the morning already, and he would no doubt be pushing his luck if he attempted to bargain for more time.

Or so he thought. While in the process of shedding his cotton jacket, Alex started as Jeremiah popped his head in the door once again with a jovialness which seemed as instinctive to him as breathing.

“You grab some breakfast now,” he ordered. While Alex doubted the man had the ability to sound stern, his tone was firm enough to convey that the demand was far from optional. Jeremiah motioned towards the extensive food stockpile with a quirk of his head – the ‘take what you like’ remaining unspoken – before pointing towards a narrow cupboard which rested beside one of the neatly-made beds. “If yer wanting a change a’ clothes, there’ll be some in that cupboard there. Can’t promise we’ll have any in yer size, but maybe you’ll get lucky. Just grab me outside when yer ready and we’ll head out together, sound like a plan?”

Once again, Alex found himself struck dumb by the man’s generosity, and all he could offer in response was a single nod. This seemed to suffice, for Jeremiah returned the action with a cheerful grin before disappearing again, whistling a jaunty tune as he went. Alex’s eyes remained pinned to the door for only a moment, until he grew tired of standing awkwardly in the middle of the room like a startled deer. Feeling empowered by Jeremiah’s offer, he made quick work of filling his belly with leftover soup and rifling through the assorted mass of clothes which had been stored away, searching for something which didn’t carry an overpowering stench of sweat.  

The heat was already beginning to grow uncomfortable by the time they headed off. Alex had settled for a crumpled cotton shirt which felt more like a tunic on his slight frame, while choosing to keep his torn jeans in favour of the gaudy oversized shorts which served as his only alternative. Overhead, the sun gradually made her ascent as a colony of gulls circled the gentle waters below, squawking shrilly in vague perturbation. Treading along the sandy path towards town felt like wading through hot treacle; the air so stifling that only the breeze offered any reprieve.  

Alex was grateful for the bottles of water Jeremiah had packed in his rucksack, though he knew deep down that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself once he took that initial desperate sip. Perhaps if the agenda for the day really did involve sitting by the shore fishing for crabs, he could fling himself into the cool waters once the heat became unbearable. It was already consuming all of his willpower to avoid sprinting towards the waves as they drew closer to the smoking remnants of an abandoned resort.

The trail eventually led onto a vast car-park which stemmed from what was once a rich seaside promenade. Only two vehicles remained, strewn haphazardly across fading white lines on the cracked tarmac. No doubt they had been rotting there for years, judging by the shattered windows and rust-eaten exteriors; any attempt to drive them now would be the ultimate exercise in futility.  

Jeremiah led him onwards, the route ahead seemingly memorised. Alex held his tongue as they wandered along a road lined with blackened, long-dead palm trees and gutted stores which sported naïve signs declaring a temporary closure. Though there was no sign of active fires, the smell of smoke lingered heavily in the air as they passed the ruins of what must once have been a bustling resort, accompanied by another, fouler stench which Alex could not place. Occasionally they would pass by abandoned cars or overturned buses, but no evidence of humanity remained even in the form of charred corpses. Alex had steeled himself to endure that much at least, but it would appear that fate had decided to spare him from that sight.  

Not that the remains of his old home were any better. Alex had known this walkway once. During their earlier trips to LA, he had strolled along the seafront with Jamie and Matt by his side, nibbling on ice-cream and joking that moving out here wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. The city had seemed so exciting and untouchable then; an exaggerated form of reality which didn’t play by the same rules as the rest of the universe.  

Those qualities clearly hadn’t protected it from being reduced to a burning husk.

He was grateful when Jeremiah finally steered him away from the shattered resort, strolling towards the sandy beach instead. Their journey ultimately led them onto an elevated wooden pier which stretched beyond the shoreline and into the depths of the water. The structure creaked awkwardly with every footfall as they strolled towards the far end, and Alex allowed himself to breathe again as the thick stench of smoke made way for the tang of salt. The sun remained as punishing as ever but her effects were dulled, somewhat, by a cool sea breeze which ruffled his hair and kissed his sunburnt cheeks. As they approached the very end of the pier, Alex gazed into the lapping waves below and grinned as he envisioned himself diving beneath the surface and letting the cold seep into his bones.

His guide promptly got to work setting up their equipment, content to let Alex watch as he talked him through each step. A rudimentary fishing line was shoved into Alex’s hands with the hook dangling precariously from a flimsy piece of string, before Jeremiah dug through his rucksack and freed a partially squashed tin of sardines. Jeremiah wasted no time peeling the tin open and tearing one of the unfortunate sardines into two, skewering one half onto the hook of his own line before handing the other to Alex and informing him to do the same. Alex obeyed, managing not to screw up his face at the texture as he cracked a wistful joke over the days his dad would tell him to use bacon instead. Jeremiah simply guffawed, before informing him plainly that if - by some miracle - they ever stumbled upon edible bacon again, the crabs sure as hell weren’t getting a slice.

“Right, just pop the line in the water there,” Jeremiah ordered once they were ready, leaning over the wooden barrier to cast his line into the waters below. Alex did the same, keeping his distance so as not to get their lines caught in a tangle. The hook dipped beneath the surface with a subtle splash, the waters just murky enough to conceal it from view. “Crabs have a good sense a’ smell, they’ll latch on quick. Once ya feel ‘em tuggin’, ya pull ‘em up gently. Keep yer hand steady now, or the damn things’ll smash against the pier and escape.”

Alex nodded and turned his head towards the drifting line, waiting for evidence of a subtle tug. Memories of boyhood holidays by the seafront flooded back to him as his attention was consumed by the shifting waves. He recalled his father feeding him instructions in the same, easygoing manner that Jeremiah himself had adopted. He remembered the excitement of pulling on the line and spotting a crab dangling on the end. He remembered gathering his prizes in a bucket and carrying them from the pier to the shore, only to tip the bucket onto its side and watch as his crabs raced towards the waves; cheering on his favourites and ultimately chastising them when they dawdled. Alex doubted that any catches today would be so lucky. Childish games hardly had a place in the world anymore.

Soon enough, Alex began to experimentally raise his line only to find unlucky crabs nibbling at the remains embedded on the hook. Following Jeremiah’s guidance, he raised the line upwards with a gentle hand, wary of the slightest breeze which could dislodge his prey from their perch. Despite his best efforts, one or two did end up diving beneath the waves, having devoured the sardines and escaped for freedom, but for the most part he was able to ease his catches over the railing and dump the stunned crabs into the bucket Jeremiah had provided. Neither of them were particularly chatty while they worked, but Alex did catch sight of the other man’s lips curling upwards once or twice.

“Who knows?” Jeremiah said, shortly after Alex teased his third disgruntled catch of the day into the bucket. “If yer any good at this, I might take ya out on the boat one o’ these days. Haven’t had a good shipmate in a while.”

There was something wistful in the man’s tone, and Alex thought he could see a trace of sadness in his gentle blue eyes as they stretched across the waves. Alex followed his gaze and allowed himself to imagine a quiet trip on a fishing boat, with the shattered remains of LA so far behind him that he could pretend it no longer existed in that state. He imagined the crisp sea air washing over his skin and the tales Jeremiah would tell of his past life as a humble fisherman. Such a quiet fantasy to latch onto, and yet it made his heart ache all the same. The fact that it was even a possibility felt like a novelty after all those years stranded on the moon.  

“I think I’d like that,” Alex said, throwing Jeremiah a shy smile which the older man eagerly returned. A trace of sadness still remained and Alex could feel his own longing for a simpler past tugging at his heart, but he cast such feelings aside and turned his attention back to the task at hand.  

The sun grew hotter as the day wore on, but Alex found he no longer minded. The routine of fishing gave him something to focus on beyond the sweat trickling from his brow, and the occasional splashes from particularly vigorous waves provided ample relief. Jeremiah had finally relented and retrieved the bottles of water from his rucksack, and they cracked them open and said ‘cheers’ as though sharing a particularly cool beer. From the way their faces crumpled with relief, one could be forgiven for assuming they were enjoying something far more luxurious, though Alex had to concede that a couple of ice-cubes wouldn’t have gone amiss.

For the most part they remained quiet and focused, though after a couple of hours Alex decided to try his luck and threw some general questions in Jeremiah’s direction. Not enough to pry into the man’s private life – he doubted they were friendly enough for that – but enough to get a general gist of what life had been like in recent years. The events that transpired after his hand slipped from Miles’ grasp remained a complete mystery to him; a fact he had to be careful to conceal so as not to betray his overwhelming ignorance.  

Not that the older man seemed to notice. He was quite happy to chat away while Alex listened intently, gathering clues as the conversation went on. He learned that Jeremiah had always lived by the sea and that his earliest memories revolved around going out in fishing boats with his mother. He learned that he had known George for upwards of thirty years and that the pair’s fondness for each other had survived in spite of George’s hatred of the open water and Jeremiah’s general dislike of hiking.  

Perhaps most importantly, he learned that the world had started to fall apart only five years prior. Jeremiah and George had fled to the coast alongside thousands of other evacuees as wildfires tore through the forests before ultimately claiming every town and city in their path. The actual disintegration of humanity had stretched over several endless months, heralded by one disaster after another, but Jeremiah had stubbornly waited it out while the other evacuees fled towards hope which grew slimmer by the hour. At one point, he said, the beaches had been so overrun with desperate city folk that you could barely move without trampling on some poor sod who had stumbled to the ground. Many had fled as soon as hopeful stories cropped up from elsewhere, though Jeremiah could only conclude that the vast majority had wound up running to their deaths.

No doubt that knowledge had weighed heavily on Jeremiah’s mind once. Even now it appeared that he had little desire to dwell on it, for the conversation staggered to a halt and the older man simply returned to his task with a weary sigh. Alex was grateful for this, despite his curiosity. Had he pried any further, Jeremiah may have turned the tables on him and started demanding explanations he simply didn’t have. He doubted this world-weary survivor would appreciate being told that Alex had only lasted this long because his mind and body had been ensnared by a monster with the ability to create alternate realities at will. No doubt that if Alex - and by extension Matt – had been forced to experience the apocalypse at face value, they would have met the same unfortunate fate as the desperate souls who’d gathered on the beach to escape the rising flames.

On the other hand, Jeremiah seemed like the type of man who was always destined to survive such a disaster. Watching him go about his work in silent concentration gave Alex the distinct impression that, overall, his life had barely altered in the wake of the apocalypse. Perhaps certain aspects had even become easier. In many ways he seemed like a relic of a distant past, fixated only on surviving day to day while enjoying simple pleasures as and when he encountered them.  

Alex couldn’t help but wonder if he would be able to achieve that level of contentment too, many years down the line.  

By the time the sun began to dip, the bucket was threatening to overflow as their catches wrestled each other in a bid to reach the top. Alex carefully guided the line containing his last helping of sardines upward, watching as an unsuspecting crab latched onto its last meal with vigour. It had been several hours since he’d lost a catch to the waves below, and his patience served him well as he eased the line over the wooden barrier and roughly shook the crab free, clumps of meat still clenched in its jagged claws as it tumbled into the bucket. Despite the lack of facial expression, Alex got the dimpression that the creature was regarding him with a look of utmost betrayal once it had recovered from shock.

The heat had begun to settle, for which Alex was grateful. His bottle of water had long since been drained and he could easily envision the cherry-red hue his cheeks had acquired over the course of the afternoon. Goosebumps rose along his bare arms in the wake of a cool breeze and he found himself wiping sweat from his brow less frequently as the hours wore on. Concluding that his efforts for the day had been enough, he rested his back against the railing and let his eyes slip shut as an icy spray splashed across his back.  

Jeremiah too appeared to be winding down. The man had discarded the empty tin into the depths of the water once the last clump of meat had been salvaged, and was in the process of enticing a rather stubborn crab over the precipice. Alex watched intently as the creature twisted awkwardly on the line, claw caught on the dangling hook. Before it could plunge to the depths below, Jeremiah shot out an arm and caught it mid-fall, dumping the creature alongside its friends before it could nip at his hand. With their last victim finally ensnared, Jeremiah took a moment to assess their yield before securing the bucket with a plastic lid and collecting their equipment into a neat pile.

“Not bad!” he announced with a wide grin hiding beneath his bushy beard. The sun had darkened his cheeks to a fiery red and his wild locks had been flattened under the weight of damp sweat, but the discomfort did not seem to bother him in the slightest. “Not bad at all. Ya might survive the apocalypse yet.”

His words were followed by a wink which made Alex laugh despite himself. They took a moment to simply enjoy the cool sea air; the gentle rush of waves lapping beneath their feet as the first traces of orange and pink spread across the darkening sky. With this view stretched out before them, it was easy to pretend that everything was normal. Alex could almost convince himself that the world was truly as peaceful and unbroken as it appeared, and that his home was still waiting for him mere miles away. He knew it was dangerous to get lost in thoughts like that. He knew they would only bring further pain in the long run, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. If reality insisted on being awful then he felt he was owed time to indulge in fantasy.  

He’d become well-practiced in that particular art after all.

The moment passed. Jeremiah packed away the twin set of fishing lines and secured his rucksack before throwing it over his back, while Alex lifted the weighty bucket and set off in pursuit as the older man led the way.  

The trip back seemed considerably more bearable in spite of the exhaustion creeping into his bones. Perhaps seeing the devastated remains of civilisation had been like tearing off a plaster, to the point where even the foul smells lacked the ability to horrify him. The promenade seemed shorter than he remembered and evidence of ancient tourist traps soon dwindled to make way for the slender walkway which would lead them back to the cabins. By the time they were on the home-stretch, the sun was beginning to sink beneath the glittering blue waves and the sky was ablaze with tangerine streaks.  

It occurred to Alex that he had officially been back in the real world for over twenty-four hours. Long enough to convince himself that perhaps this wasn’t a cruelly elaborate dream after all.

George and Matthew were still nowhere to be seen by the time they reached the cabin. A sliver of discomfort eased its way into Alex’s gut at the pervasive quiet which greeted him. Jeremiah didn’t seem particularly bothered by their absence, however, and was quick to assure him that George rarely made it home before he did. This didn’t strike Alex as being particularly heartening, as surely having an extra pair of hands would have made George’s role considerably easier, but he elected not to mention it. Instead, he allowed Jeremiah to take the bucket from his hands and gladly agreed when the older man suggested he go outside and start a campfire, as it turned out he had little desire to watch the unfortunate crabs meet their fate once Jeremiah started preparing dinner.  

Starting a campfire was a considerably easier task than Alex had expected. The fact that George had amassed an impressive quantity of lighters and matches certainly helped, as did the abundance of brittle branches which lay scattered across the beach. George and Jeremiah had already created a tiny nook for such a purpose; the remains of previous campfires lay scorched and blackened within a ring of scattered logs which provided adequate seating. Childhood memories of countryside holidays once again proved fruitful as Alex got to work, and before long he found himself warming his hands above crackling flames as a mere spark succeeded in setting his collection of sticks alight. The sky above provided a similar fiery glow, with scattered grey clouds giving the impression of smoke drifting among orange embers. Content with his task, Alex settled against one of the fallen logs and simply gazed at the sky as exhaustion and hunger took hold and the fire bathed him in pleasant warmth.

It wasn’t long before an orange glow emanated from the cabin windows. Shadows were visible from within as Jeremiah set about preparing their evening meal, his large mass occasionally passing by the window and blocking the firelight from view. Bored of the sky, Alex directed his attention towards the resort, keeping his eyes peeled for a pair of returning travelers. He knew deep down that he should take comfort from Jeremiah’s lack of concern, yet anxiety clawed at his throat regardless. Matt and George had been gone far longer than Alex had even been awake. Given the late hour at which George had arrived home last night, his mind filled with images of Matt in nothing more than a t-shirt and jeans, slowly freezing as George plowed on in thermals and a snug jacket. The chill was nowhere near that fierce just yet – if anything the breeze was a pleasantly cool balm after the earlier scorch – but Alex knew from experience that it would not be long before the cold was creeping upon them like an icy specter.  

Such fears were unfounded of course, though that did little to calm the sense of relief which gripped him as a trio of shadows appeared on the horizon. Midnight’s slender form was unmistakable as she was led by the reins by a much smaller shadow, both of them tailing a hulking giant of a man. The leader plowed on with little regard for his companions, but seeing as Alex had envisioned Matt being left for dead in a ditch somewhere, he was willing to take the fact that all three had returned as a sign that George didn’t completely hate the idea of company.  

George appeared to change course as soon as he noted the smoking campfire, detouring away from the cabin towards the small nook where Alex had settled himself. As much as he knew his feelings were irrational, Alex couldn’t help but squirm as the older man approached with his lips set in a grim line and eyes narrowed to grey slits.

“Your friend’s an idiot,” he announced with zero preamble, before turning on his heel and storming off towards the cabin. His stuffed rucksack weighed him down as he went, giving him a hunchbacked appearance which Alex may have laughed at if he had the courage. He valued his life far too highly for that however, and settled instead for turning to the approaching figure of Matt in stunned silence, hoping that he may be able to provide some form of explanation for their host’s wrath.

In contrast to George’s simmering anger, Matt looked positively chuffed as he approached with a stoic Midnight in tow. It struck Alex then that this was the only time he had ever seen Matt wearing normal clothes. The bright red jeans still clung to his legs and no doubt his trainers were the same shiny monstrosities from before, albeit thick mud had since claimed every inch of their surface. Instead of shimmering neon decorating his torso there was only a white t-shirt, however. His face was faintly pink and his arms were tanned from the sun, a paler outline just visible beneath the fabric as he tethered Midnight to a log, but his ridiculous sunglasses were nowhere to be seen. One could almost mistake him for ordinary in this light.  

They would be wrong of course, but Alex wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking it.

The source of Matt’s joy and George’s displeasure became obvious soon enough. Once he’d overcome the distraction of Matt looking like a normal person rather than a reality-hopping outlaw, Alex’s eyes widened as he set his sights on the acoustic strapped precariously to Matt’s back. His excitement was clearly obvious, for Matt halted his delicate strokes of Midnight’s mane in order to flip the guitar round his torso until it was perfectly balanced in his hands, his long fingers resting over the delicate strings.  

The instrument had clearly seen better days. Its once sleek mahogany surface was tarnished by scuff marks and scratches, and the strings would ideally need changing before any attempts were made to play them, though that didn’t dissuade Matt from carefully tuning them as he came to sit by Alex’s side. The neck was intact at least, though Alex had heard enough rumours of Matt’s onstage antics to wonder just how long the poor thing would survive. Not that he could talk, considering how many roadies he had pissed off back in the day due to his flagrant abuse of microphone stands.  

“George thinks you’re an idiot for rescuing that thing, by the way,” Alex informed Matt with a playful smirk as the man started to play a classical melody. The tone was surprisingly pleasant given that the instrument likely hadn’t been touched in years, and Alex’s jibe did little to distract Matt from weaving a complex improvisation with ease.  

“Oh I know,” Matt shot back with a wicked grin, letting the melody fade out before amusing himself by strumming simple chords instead. “He wouldn’t shut up about it the whole way back. Kept going on about the fact that his excursions are about searching for food and medicine and stuff that’s actually ‘useful’. Don’t think he appreciated it when I told him that life without a guitar isn’t worth living.”

“He’s not a connoisseur of music then?” Alex remarked. “You know what, I’d never have guessed.”

“Nah, doubt he’s whimsical enough for any of that nonsense,” Matt agreed, his smile softening as he raised the ragged guitar-strap over his head and settled his new love gently by his feet. A small carrier bag joined it on the sand, in which Alex could see a collection of t-shirts and likely outdated packets of paracetamol, but it seemed Matt had spent more energy carting the guitar back than salvaging anything George would consider valuable. “He wasn’t so bad though. I mean, he clearly didn’t like the idea of me tagging along, but he started to open up a bit once we got going. Stopped treating me like I was invisible anyway. I bet he’s a real softie once you get to know him.”  

As much as Matt’s words dripped with sarcasm, something about his sincere smile implied that on some level, he believed what he was saying. Whether that was merely naïve optimism or an acute observation based on his time with George was unclear, but Alex was willing to take it as a somewhat reassuring sign. Perhaps their host really was a mere grump as opposed to the dangerous menace his imagination had concocted.

Any retort died on his tongue as he spotted Jeremiah and George approaching from the cabin, each sporting a pair of steaming bowls. The aroma of rich soup grew more enticing as they came closer, and by the time Jeremiah carefully eased one of the bowls into Alex’s waiting hands his mouth was watering as his stomach growled with hunger. The creamy soup closely resembled the seafood chowder from the night before, with the exception that this one had been created with crabmeat alone. Any guilt over the fate of his unfortunate catches vanished in an instant as Alex inhaled deeply before digging in with only slightly more tact than the night before.  

They ate in relative peace, the quiet broken only by the crackling fire and the hushed voices of Jeremiah and George as they compared notes from their day. Despite George’s intimidating approach upon returning to the cabin, he showed little animosity towards his guests as they sat by the campfire. Alex could even have sworn that he’d given Matt a friendly nod upon handing him his bowl. Jeremiah remained his usual jovial self - which was considerably less surprising - and even asked Alex if he wanted seconds once his bowl was empty, to which he politely declined. As delicious as the soup was, everyone seemed to agree that it was far too filling for the notion of second portions to be entertained, and so they simply sat back once all four bowls were polished off, feeling full and sated.

It wasn’t long before the sun finally dipped beneath the waves and deep blues permeated the sky. Any remaining streaks of tangerine were banished in favour of an ever-darkening canvas dotted with glowing stars. The breeze started to carry the threat of ice with it, sending a shiver through Alex’s frame whenever it beckoned, but the heat from the flickering flames provided ample protection for the moment.  

Without prompting, Matt lifted the rescued acoustic and started to strum absent-mindedly at the strings, frowning at every imperceptible error and twisting the tuning pegs until the rich sound satisfied him fully. He seemed entirely ignorant of his audience, closing his eyes and losing himself to the music once it overcame him. His fingers danced elegantly across the strings, unleashing a gorgeous Spanish-inspired piece as though he’d been performing onstage only yesterday. Perhaps Alex would have been slightly jealous once upon a time, but for now he was content to simply watch with a small smile tugging at his lips. The piece eventually faded into the distantly familiar chords of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’,  and Alex spotted Matt opening his mouth a couple of times as though intending to sing before ultimately deciding against it.  

The final chords sounded abruptly as Matt opened his eyes and became aware of the three sets of eyes fixated on him. Nobody said a word, perhaps too enthralled to urge him to continue, but his eyes met Alex’s and he smiled before freeing himself from the strap and handing the guitar over. It lingered between them for several seconds as Alex gaped at it, torn between desperation to lay his hands on a real guitar and terror at the possibility that his skills may have left him. Even if his experiences in the hotel counted for anything, he still spent upwards of five years relying mostly on piano, with the guitar being reserved for special occasions or more energetic crowds.  

Ultimately, the itch to play again overcame any self-consciousness. He took the instrument in his hands with a degree of reverence before letting it rest in his lap. For a few moments his fingers merely ghosted over the frets as songs battled for dominance in his brain; everything from his own work to David Bowie screaming to be played while his hands remained stock-still. When he finally did begin to play, the song remained a mystery even to him. He took a moment to simply adapt to the instrument and the sensation of playing again, grateful that his muscle memory appeared to be serving him well, and a shy smile crept over his face as the familiar notes of Leonard Cohen washed over the small gathering.  

The urge to sing wrestled with him too, but he crushed it down and focused on the simple act of playing the chords to ‘Is This What You Wanted’. A sharp ache pierced his heart like an arrowhead as the music transported him to a summer he’d never wanted to end; to non-stop laughter and the sweet sensation of looking across the stage to find Miles smiling back at him. He imagined that even if he wanted to sing, he would find himself choking on the words and butchering the song in the process, so the stripped-down instrumental would have to suffice.  

Or so he thought, only to be proven wrong the instant a rich baritone voice joined the fray. Alex’s fingers stumbled for only a millisecond before he recovered himself. He looked up to watch as Jeremiah sang along with his eyes closed, a wistful smile playing across his lips as the music seemed to transport him back to a distant past.  

His voice could hardly be called perfect on a technical level, but that only made it more beautiful. His tone was rich – the imperfections adding more character than polish ever could – and his raspy vocals added a maturity that Alex doubted he would have been able to capture himself. He grinned when Jeremiah opened his eyes and winked at him, before turning his attention fully to the acoustic, ensuring that each note landed perfectly so as not to ruin the impromptu performance.  

The air was broken by an excitable whoop and applause from Matt once the final notes faded into nothingness, and Jeremiah chuckled before giving the gathering a little bow. Alex’s heart was so lifted that he thought nothing of shedding the acoustic and offering it over to George, who happened to be closest to him. In keeping with the man’s earlier attitude, he simply refused with a shake of his head, though in the flickering firelight his eyes appeared softer than Alex had ever seen them. Undeterred, Alex simply shrugged before handing the guitar back to Matt. His friend seemed to have been rejuvenated by his and Jeremiah’s unconventional duet, and once the guitar was back in his hands, he launched into an excitable interrogation of the older man, employing his usual scatter-gun delivery in the process.

The pair quickly bonded over a shared love of Nina Simone and especially Tom Waits. Before long, Matt was launching into the guitar chords of ‘Blue Valentine’ while Jeremiah effortlessly sang the vocal, capturing the precise gravitas that such a song demanded despite the smile lurking on his jolly face. Alex contented himself with simply sitting back and watching, before turning his eyes to George.  

The man had been conspicuously quiet all night. Alex wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to find on his face, though he would have bet money on detecting a certain degree of disapproval resting upon a deep frown. What he wasn’t expecting was the unmistakable fondness radiating from the man’s eyes as his gaze lingered heavily on Jeremiah, nor the gentle smile tugging at his lips as he fought to keep his expression neutral. Any tension which had gripped his bulky frame had melted away and he seemed positively relaxed, in sharp contrast to every interaction Alex had shared with him. The sight made him wonder if Matt’s earlier assessment could be closer to the truth than he had previously appreciated. At the very least, it appeared that Jeremiah was George’s sole weakness, and the sight tugged at Alex’s heart in a manner which forced him to avert his eyes.

They continued their back-and-forth with Matt and Alex taking turns on the guitar while Jeremiah took up vocal duties, until the fire started to die within its nest and the night’s chill chased them all back towards the cabin. Thankfully their temporary home had been gradually warmed by the log burner and Alex wasn’t forced to relive the bone-chilling sensations of the previous night. A strange wave of contentment gripped him by the hand and settled in his chest as he laid down and rested his head upon the folded jumper which served as his makeshift pillow. He was still exhausted from the day’s trek and a degree of uncertainty remained over how long he and Matt would be able to remain as guests, but none of that mattered.  

In contrast to the fear which had consumed him the night before, the pervading feeling which claimed him as Jeremiah bade them all a sleepy ‘goodnight’ was that, somehow, the future might not be entirely terrible.

#does this sequel already have a title? yes #am I still going to insist on giving it that overlong intro every time? also yes #arctic monkeys #muse #Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino #Simulation Theory #my fic

[intubatedangel]

Out of Body: Chapter 3

Didn’t really feel like writing much of a resus scene after recent events, but I already had some stuff written so I worked it in where I could while expanding the story a bit more.

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

************

Jane The ambulance swung into the emergency bay of the major trauma centre, stopping a few feet beyond an assembled team of doctors and nurses. They were already in blue surgical gowns and with the coordination of professionalism and experience, they spread around the back doors and pulled them open, dragging the gurney out. Dave was still pumping the ambu bag while Jane, her sweat slicked fringe sticking to her forehead, handed over the IV bag and monitor to waiting hands before the team ran inside. “What have we got?” The trauma lead asked as he ran his eyes across Laura’s restrained body. His eyebrows raised slightly at the improvised chest tube. “Laura Beckett, 23. Involved in an RTC, sedan vs motorcycle. Fractured femur, query dislocated hip and knee. Fractured wrist as well. Multiple broken ribs and punctured lung, leading to severe haemothorax. Resulted in cardiac arrest, downtime of approximately 25 minutes, reversed after the pressure of the haemothorax was relieved. BPs still low and O2 sat’s barely over 80. Currently sinus tachy at 120.” “Beckett?” The doctor asked, not asking the question out loud. Jane simply nodded. “Ok, lets get her inside, fast beep radiology we need to get a full trauma series ASAP. Let’s get a proper chest tube in, get her on the vent and pack the rapid infuser with TXA, platelets and 2 units of O-neg.” “She’s A-positive.” Jane cut in. “Good, lets get 6 units of that up from the blood bank. Get in touch with cardiothoracics, orthopaedics and neuro for consults.” The rest of the team confirmed their orders as the gurney was pushed into the primary trauma room. After a 3 count Laura was lifted across onto the table, a flurry of action surrounding her as doctors and nurses perform the assigned tasks. The lead eased Jane back. “We’ve got it from here Jane.” She shook her head defiantly, but her voice came out in a whisper. “I’m not leaving her.” “You’ve done your job. And done it well, but you can’t help her in here. Go get cleaned up, you’ll be the first to hear when we have any news.” Jane lingered for a moment, gazing at her sisters body as nurses rapidly stripped away her clothes, discarding them into a bloody heap in one corner of the room. Then her shoulders slumped and her head bowed as she retreated from the trauma room, discarding her gloves into a bin. Dave tried to catch her attention, but she ignored him, heading towards the ladies restroom while pulling out her phone. Ashir Ashir sat at his desk, much of the room shrouded in the late-night darkness. The desk itself was lit by a powerful lamp that starkly highlighted thin tendrils of smoke as they were drawn into the small extraction unit mounted in the window. He peered through the microscope, gently applying more solder to the electronic circuit board he was working on. It wasn’t work that needed to be done right now, but he needed something to occupy his mind. He made a satisfied grunt and shifted the microscope out of the way. He leaned back, stretching and rubbing his eyes, while spinning on his chair. His gaze fell on the other desk in the room. Laura’s desk. It was cluttered, stacks of newspapers, photographs and journals were strewn about in a system that Ashir couldn’t recognise, but his journalist roommate seemed perfectly at home with the mess. The pin board hung on the wall behind the stacks was a different story. It was laid out like a true conspiracy theory board. Over a dozen profile pictures formed the centres of different sections and various colours of string linked articles and reports in a web that looked chaotic at first glance. Looking closer, and with only a small amount of guidance, it began to come together into a cohesive whole. Ashir sighed. He really hoped his roommate was wrong about all this. But even he had to admit the evidence was compelling when presented in the way she had laid it out. That was part of what worried him. She should have been back by now. Or at least have dropped him some form of message. At least she’d told him where she was going. He’d been able to get his own backups into place. She’d probably kill him if she knew about them. As that thought crossed his mind his phone began to ring. He let out a relieved sigh as he prepared to make his concern clear. That was when he saw the caller ID. His hand trembled as he answered. “Ash you were right. She’s in over her head.” Jane’s voice was tight. “What happened?” Ash was already on his feet looking for his keys. “She’s hurt Ash. She’s really hurt.” “I’m coming down there.” He pulled on his jacket then flicked off the light. “Hurry Ash.”

Laura

I heard the noises first. Alarms sounding. Orders being given. I opened my eyes, once again struck by seeing the world in that strange brightness. A nurse was above me, rocking backwards and forwards, her ponytail flicking to and fro with the motion, until she paused for a brief moment. I followed her arms, down to her hands that rested in the slight valley between my breasts.

“Still nothing, resume compressions.” Someone said. The nurses hands suddenly disappeared into my chest. CPR, I was getting CPR again. My heart had stopped once more. The way the nurses compressions passed through my ethereal form was still incredibly disconcerting, so I sat up and looked around. Doctors and nurses surrounded me, but there was a gap at my feet. I managed to scooch past them without passing through anyone, then turned to look my body.

I was naked on the table. And I didn’t look good. My chest was heavily bruised, with tubes sticking out of either side, Jane’s impromptu effort having been replaced by a proper chest tube, an identical one mirroring it. My broken arm and leg had both been splinted and bandaged, though the bandages were already stained through. A urinary catheter had been placed. I was slightly glad I hadn’t seen that happening, someone touching me in such an intimate place.

A large bore IV was in my leg, with other lines into my arms and another one near the base of my neck. Blood and saline were flowing into my body, though as I watched, a nurse pushed some drugs into the central line.

The ecg wires trailed across my chest, leading to a monitor that hug above the trauma table. The line on the monitor was flat. I looked down at my chest, seeing my lifeline still strong and thick. I also saw that my ghostly form was naked too. I instinctively tried to cover myself, despite no one being capable of seeing me.

I looked around for my clothes, shredded and discarded into one corner. I reached out to them, but of course my hand passed right through them. But there was something. A strange feeling, almost like a memory of sensation across my whole body. I reached out again, letting my hand linger within the bundle. The sensation became stronger, growing steadily, and it was almost like I could feel the clothes on me.

I took a deep breath, recalling the meditation techniques my therapist had taught me years ago. How visualising a result can help it happen. I had no idea if it would work, but I’d rather not walk around naked, even if no one could see me. I tried to hold on to the memory of my clothes as I pulled my hand out. I could still feel the clothes on me, and focused on that feeling, blocking out everything else. Slowly, I let out the breath and opened my eyes, looking down at myself. I was clothed. My dark grey t-shirt and similar coloured pants were whole, despite their real counterparts being little more than shreds before me. My black hoody was also on me, unstained by blood like the genuine article.

“We’ve got V-fib.” Someone shouted, dragging my attention back to my body. The alarm had changed, it was familiar enough that I knew what was going to happen next. A doctor, fully gowned and masked, held a pair of black paddles down against my chest. “Clear!” He said, a moment before my naked body jerked on the trauma table. I cringed at the way my legs spread slightly.

“No change. Let’s do another minute of compressions and shock her again.” A nurse immediately had her hands back on my chest, pressing it down, seemingly quite easily. Given how petite the nurse was, my ribs must be really soft.

It was almost enough to turn my stomach, and I instinctively took a few steps back. There was a momentary feeling of resistance, and suddenly I couldn’t see anything. I paused, realising that wasn’t quite right. I could see, there just wasn’t anything too see. Except the papery texture of the back of the plasterboard sheet in front of me, and the treated timbers that were the drywall studs. I was inside the wall. I took another step back, emerging into a corridor.

It was a quiet corridor, empty except for a cleaner at the far end. Yet I could still hear a voice. Quiet, but clear. It was counting. “15…16…17…18…” I grimaced slightly, then plunged back through the wall. The nurse was still pressing down on my chest, and she was mouthing the words, but more to herself. She wasn’t shouting by any stretch, in fact I would be surprised if her words would even carry to where I stood.

So, I can still hear what is happening to my body. Helpful. I glanced down, concentrating slightly to look at my lifeline. It was still strong and steady. How far can it stretch? I remembered Keith telling me to stay close, but the lifeline was thin then, insignificant compared to the almost cable thick line I could see before me now. I made up my mind. I strode across the room, towards the doors, unable to stop myself from hesitating just slightly before I walked through them. Again that slight resistance, more a reminder the wall was there, than something really stopping me, tugged as I passed through. And then I was in a different corridor, busier, but still quiet.

 I looked around, hoping to see Jane, but she was not there. I walked down the corridor, trying to figure out precisely where I was, or where I should go. I glanced at the signs, but most of them were mainly just numbers, hanging in front of cubicles or other offshoot corridors. Coloured lines were on the floor, branching out down the corridor behind me. Presumably, I thought, they must all come together at one starting point. I followed them back, dodging a nurse pushing a young man in a wheelchair, a large boot on his foot. Neither of them payed me even a sliver of attention.

 “Ok, that’s a minute. Let’s shock her again.” It was the voice of the doctor working on me. “Clear” he said a moment later. I stopped walking as I wondered if I was about to be wrenched back into my body. “Still no change. Load her up with epi, bicarb and amiodarone.” I considered going back, but my lifeline hadn’t changed. I was close enough to see the name plate on the nearby doors, ‘Reception’. Seemed like a sensible place to look for my sister.

I passed through the door and immediately sidestepped out of the way of a porter. It was much busier in here. I retreated to an out of the way corner and looked around for Jane. I couldn’t see her anywhere and was beginning to wonder if she had abandoned me and gone back to work when I saw a high-vis jacket come around the corner. It was her partner. Dave. I remembered. He held two coffee cups, putting them on a counter before reaching for his radio. I crossed the room, weaving around nurses and patients, cringing when a small girl ran through me.

Dave was already mid conversation. “…anks for sorting it. I’ll tell her then I‘ll run the rig back to base.”

“How’s she doing?” A voice said from the radio.

Dave blew out a breath between clenched teeth. “Honestly, not good.” He seemed to stare across at a pair of doors across the room. Toilets. “I mean, it is her sister after all, how many of us would be alright after seeing someone we love in that …” I left him behind as I crossed the room and plunged through the wall into the ladies restroom.

Jane stood there, leaning over a sink. Her high-vis jacket lay on the floor at her feet. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edges of the sink. She was murmuring to herself, enough to earn a sideways glance from another woman who quickly scurried out.

“…stupid. Stubborn. Why couldn’t you just listen to me. I begged you. ‘Don’t go after him.’ But you didn’t listen. You never listen.” As I stepped closer, I could see her aura. There was a bubbling of red, but it was mostly that sickly green. As the door swung shut behind the fleeing woman, Jane let out a great shuddering sob, and tears began to fall from her face. I reached out, but my hand passed through her shoulder.

I could still hear the distant sounds of the attempt to resuscitate me. A third shock delivered. “Back in asystole. Ok, hang another round of blood products and chase up the surgical consult, if we don’t get anything back in two minutes we open her up down here.” That sounded just delightful. I glanced down at my lifeline, but it didn’t look like it had diminished.

That’s when I noticed the traces of red in the sink. Blood. My blood. As if to distract herself, Jane washed out the bowl of the sink, tears still dripping as she took deep steadying breaths. I’d seen her do it before. Fighting to assert an iron control over herself. It had always driven me crazy, especially after what had happened to Mum and Dad. But then, something happened that I had never seen before.

She lost.

Her whole body was wracked with sobs as she sank to the ground against the wall. Her hands covered her face and she drew her knees up tightly. I didn’t know what to do. So I sat down beside her. For just a moment I passed into the wall, but I grabbed that moment of resistance, held it my mind for a few seconds, and suddenly the wall felt solid. I leaned back against it, looking at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I whispered. As expected, she didn’t respond. She continued to sob, and I could see tears leaking out. I sighed. “It was him. If you can hear me at all, hear that. It was him. Patterson. I was right. He’s a murderer, and he tried to kill me. Just like he killed them.” I could feel the anger building. I turned to look at her, as she lowered her hand, her sobs easing. “It was never your fault Jane. It was always him. He had mum and dad killed.”  

#resus writing #resus #cpr #defib #out of body